#this THIS!!!! is what loss of innocence stories are composed of!!!

[these-are-the-first-steps]

Ok so I think I figured something out, bear with me here. The core of the reason why the new Star Wars films fell so flat was because they forgot that it was a loss of innocence story. It starts out in the beginning as Rey ripping the band aid off of her life and thus beginning her loss of innocence. But because they forgot that in the second movie, the thread gets dropped completely and they're directionless, and they have no idea where they're going story-wise. This is why by the third movie, nothing fucking makes sense anymore and everything feels like a wild stab in the dark. The story is no longer about rey's loss of innocence because they've completely forgotten the theme that was supposed to happen here. By the third movie, the story has swerved so far away from what we were supposed to be talking about that of course at the end when she's standing exactly where she fucking started saying "her" name, the entire thing is incomprehensible because this was supposed to be a loss of innocence journey and instead they just plopped her exactly back where she fucking started having literally spun their wheels and gone nowhere for three fucking films.

Sorry if the formatting is a mess, I used speech to text bc its late and im tired but do you get what I mean here?? About why and how this whole trilogy failed now??

[shixcherie]

Who’s Gonna Tell Her ? | Kim Hongjoong ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

Navigation | Kinktober List

☆Day 24 : Virginity loss

↬ [ Synopsis ] : After a grand festival, a blissful night of Phoenix Kingdom’s rice wine, and sweet encounters with Prince Hongjoong, will you, the Dragon Princess, be able to resist him or will you surrender completely as he takes your innocence? Is this the end, or are wedding bells about to ring?

☆Word Count : 5.07k ☆Genre : Smut, Angst, a long plot, Historical Au. ☆Pairing : Prince! Hongjoong x Princess! F.Reader

☆☆☆WARNINGS : mdni!, Pure smut(18+), with some plot, Historical setting, pretty descriptive settings, virginity loss, neck kisses and bites, nipple play, fingering (fem recieving), unprotected sex (be responsible honey), both Hongjoong and y/n's kingdoms are close friends, mentions of alcohol, fluff at the end, romance.

NOTE : Day 24 is here for you as well. I am grinding hard to catch up because I was busy with exams so now I am working hard to finish this kinktober on time.

This story began when I was watching The Apothecary Diaries, so the setting is inspired by the show. A royal backdrop is new territory for me, so please forgive any mistakes as I try to immerse you in the Phoenix Kingdom and its grandeur.

Also, I’m officially declaring Ryujin as my best friend 😁🥺—she’ll be making an appearance as Y/N's bestie in every fic (fight me if you disagree)!

And one more note: I’m writing a virginity loss kink for the first time, so I aimed to portray it respectfully for both characters. Any rookie mistakes, feel free to enlighten me in DMs or comments!

"Y/n, who are you most excited to meet at this banquet ?" your twin brother Felix nudged as your carriage neared the Phoenix Kingdom. Your Dragon Kingdom, one of the Phoenix Kingdom's oldest allies, had maintained close ties for years and was always invited to the extravagant event the Firebird Kingdom held each year.

The Rising Fire Festival was a grand celebration hosted annually by Phoenix Emperor Seonghwa to commemorate a successful year. He invited friends and close acquaintances, including your brother, Emperor Bangchan.

“I’m excited to meet everyone, Felix. Why are you asking that specifically, though ?” You narrowed your eyes at your twin playfully. “I’m excited to see Prince Wooyoung and my best friend Princess Ryujin from the Tiger Kingdom, and also Princess Yeji from the Crane Kingdom as well. So, there are a lot of friends I’m looking forward to meeting.”

“What about Prince Hongjoong ? Aren’t you excited to see him ?” Felix teased, knowing about your tiny crush on the Phoenix prince.

“Oh, yeah! He’s going to be there as well, right… I’m looking forward to seeing him, too. It’s been a while.” you replied, trying to stay composed and not fall for Felix’s teasing, though your face betrayed you as a red blush crept up your cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah, sure… who are you kidding ?” Felix continued to tease. “Just don’t jump into his arms when you see him.”

As the redness on your cheeks intensified, you shot back, “Shut up, Felix. I hope Princess Lia ignores you the whole evening. That’ll be enough to punish you for teasing me.” you teased, reminding him of his fiancée, whom he was set to marry in a few months. Felix pouted at you.

You wished for the ride to end soon, eager to escape your irritating twin, while Hongjoong’s face crossed your mind, bringing a smile to your lips. You really couldn’t wait to see him.

The alliance between the Dragons and Phoenixes spanned decades, beginning when your father and Seonghwa’s father were close friends, sharing resources and enjoying hunts together. Seonghwa and Bangchan had continued the friendship, maintaining a close political bond and sharing resources.

The carriage finally came to a halt, pulling you from your thoughts as you looked out the small window and took in the grandeur of the Phoenix Kingdom. A footman helped you and Felix out of the carriage, and as your eyes sparkled at the breathtaking scene before you, you saw Felix mirroring your expression.

The “Rising Fire” festival of the Phoenix Kingdom glowed with splendor unlike any other. The palace grounds had been transformed, each corner adorned with golden lanterns and flowers in fiery hues, symbolizing the warmth and power of the Phoenix King, Emperor Seonghwa. This grand event gathered royals from allied kingdoms, each arriving to pay their respects and express gratitude to the ruler of the Phoenix Kingdom.

As you and your brothers entered the vast palace courtyard, you couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty surrounding you. Your elder brother, Emperor Bangchan, walked proudly in the center, his dignified presence impossible to ignore, while your twin brother Felix, on his other side, wore a sweet grin, his eyes darting around to take in the sights while also looking for his fiancée, Princess Lia. The royal guards, dressed in red and gold armor emblazoned with phoenixes, bowed deeply as your party approached, adding to the already festive atmosphere.

Inside, the grand banquet hall was bustling with nobles and royals, all dressed in their finest attire. Towering red pillars carved with phoenix motifs seemed to dance in the flickering candlelight, while golden banners embroidered with images of mythical creatures soaring through flames served as tributes to Seonghwa and the powerful lineage he represented.

Emperor Seonghwa shone like a true Phoenix in his richly embroidered attire, his captivating smile greeting everyone with warmth. You and your brothers went ahead to greet him, though your gaze drifted toward his younger brother, Prince Hongjoong, who was nearby, keeping a group of princesses entertained.

A tiny spark of jealousy glinted in your eyes as Felix noticed and snickered, drawing your attention back to what Seonghwa and your brother were discussing.

Hongjoong, dressed in deep red robes embroidered with gold and black phoenixes, was the picture of royal elegance. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as he greeted each guest, an ease only years of practice could give. Girls whispered and giggled like admirers as he passed, casting flirtatious glances his way. While respected for his loyalty to the Phoenix Kingdom, Hongjoong had a reputation for enjoying the luxuries of royal life, including the attention of many his admirers.

When his gaze finally met yours, he politely excused himself and made his way toward you. Seeing him approach, you quickly excused yourself, grabbing Felix to head toward the food area where your other friends were. You needed Ryujin to hype you up before facing Hongjoong.

“Y/n! Over here!” Your best friend, Princess Ryujin, called from the drinks section. You spotted Wooyoung next to her, deep in conversation with Yeji and Lia, while stuffing his face with food. Typical Prince Woo. Felix’s eyes lit up as he spotted Lia in her beautiful attire, and with that, he left your side to greet her.

“Ryujin!” You hugged her, whispering, “Save me, please. Hongjoong is coming this way.” Ryujin chuckled at your cry for help but nodded, as you smoothed your dress, greeting Wooyoung and Yeji while anticipating Hongjoong’s arrival.

From the corner of your eye, you saw him greet your brother before heading toward your group, his strides confident and relaxed, a smile growing on his face as he approached. Greeting each of your friends, he finally turned to you. You exchanged a nervous look with Ryujin, who responded with a cheerful grin.

Hongjoong’s gaze lingered on you with a hint of something more than polite curiosity, his eyes sweeping over you appreciatively. "The Dragon Empire's beauty is not just in its landscapes, it seems. You look beautiful, Princess Y/n." he said with a smirk, letting his gaze drop to admire your attire. Your gown was a deep, shimmering emerald with golden accents featured intricate dragon embroidery symbolic of your empire, with scales that seemed to shine in the candlelight. "You wear your heritage with elegance, Princess. It suits you perfectly."

“Thank you, Prince Hongjoong,” you replied politely, bowing slightly to the young prince.

“I hope our celebration has been as enchanting as you expected, Princess,” he continued, his tone dropping slightly, just enough for you to notice. “The Phoenix Kingdom holds this celebration every year to remind us all of our alliances and shared prosperity.”

You met his eyes, feeling a thrilling spark. "It certainly lives up to its reputation," you replied, smiling. “The Phoenix Kingdom is beautiful, and the hospitality here is… unforgettable.”

“Then I am glad,” Hongjoong replied, his smile deepening. “Perhaps I can make it even more memorable for you, if you’ll allow me.”

Felix chuckled softly beside you, exchanging a knowing glance with Ryujin and the others.

“Perhaps our Dragon Princess would enjoy a dance. I heard you’re a great dancer, Prince Hongjoong,” Ryujin teased, her eyes flicking between you and Hongjoong as everyone awaited his response.

As musicians began to play an elegant melody, Hongjoong offered a cheerful, pearly smile and extended his hand. “Whatever the princess wishes, the princess shall have,” he said warmly. “Would you join me for a dance, Princess ?”

Accepting gracefully, you took his hand and stepped onto the dance floor, while your friends stepped back, leaving you and Hongjoong to the moment. The night air was thick with the scent of sandalwood incense and plum wine, the celebratory atmosphere almost intoxicating as you immeresed yourself in the beautiful moment.

Your heart skipped a beat as your bodies moved to the soft melody, your hand resting in his soft yet firm grasp. All eyes turned to watch as the two of you glided together. It felt as though every step brought you closer, both in movement and spirit.

The celebration continued around you, filled with laughter and joy, yet in that moment, it felt as if you and Hongjoong were the only two in the room. The flickering lanterns cast golden shadows across his face, highlighting his dark eyes and the slight smile playing on his lips.

Leaning in close, he murmured, “You may find that there’s much more to the Phoenix Kingdom than what meets the eye, Princess. It’s changed quite a bit since you and your friends last visited.”

You glanced up, warmth spreading within you. “I look forward to discovering everything it has to offer, Prince Hongjoong.”

“Perhaps we could all enjoy some quiet time in the gardens once the party ends. We could reminisce over a few drinks like old times. Do you remember when we used to play together in the gardens as kids ?”

“I do,” you replied, holding his gaze as a beautiful smile crossed your lips. “And I’d love a chance to wind down after all this excitement.”

As the night deepened, the celebrations spilled over into the cherry blossom gardens, where you, Felix, Hongjoong, Wooyoung, Ryujin, Lia, and Yeji found a cozy spot beneath the canopy of plum trees. The soft glow of the nearby lanterns cast a warm light over your small group as laughter and clinking cups filled the cool night air.

Hongjoong had brought out several bottles of the Phoenix Kingdom’s finest rice wine, smooth and sweet, and as each of you raised your cups in endless toasts to family, friendship, and adventures, the hours began to blur while the night enveloped you and your friends.

Felix was in rare form, laughing heartily as he exchanged stories with Wooyoung, who matched him drink for drink. Ryujin, Lia, and Yeji joined in on the fun, each sharing mischievous grins and occasionally teasing you, which made you all laugh even harder.

The conversation flowed easily, and so did the wine, the scent of which mingled with the night air. Inhibitions slipped away as the night wore on, and with Hongjoong’s shoulder brushing against yours every now and then, butterflies rumbled in your stomach too hard to ignore.

You lost track of how many times Prince Wooyoung and Felix refilled your cup. The night turned into a beautiful blend of laughter and music. It all felt like a dream with Hongjoong beside you, his hand resting on yours, fingers grazing over your knuckles. It sent a thrill through you, though you were too lightheaded to think clearly under the influence of the wine.

Everything started spinning around, and you wanted to lay down, so you attempted to stand up in order to leave for your room.

“Y/n, sis, sit down. You will fall.” Felix tried to stop you, dragging you by your hand to make you sit.

“I want to lay down, Lix.” you said, using the nickname you only employed when you were too tipsy. “I want to go to my chambers.” You started to leave when Hongjoong stood up as well, smoothing his outfit.

“Don’t worry, Prince Felix. I will show her to her chambers safely. I am feeling sober.” he assured your twin before taking your hand with one while his other hand held your waist.

When you finally stumbled back to your room, memories of the night floated through your mind in fragments, but one memory felt clear, too vivid to ignore. In it, Hongjoong was close, his touch warm and possessive, as if he were holding onto something that already belonged to him. The memory left you feeling breathless, heat still lingering as you drifted into a deep sleep.

The next morning, you awoke disoriented and drained, your head throbbing with ache, all thanks to the uncountable glasses of wine you had drunk. Something felt different, but you couldn’t put your finger on exactly what had happened. You rubbed your temples, trying to piece together the foggy memories of last night but miserably failed to do so.

As you slowly gathered yourself, a memory emerged in your mind with faint clarity. A dream that suddenly made you feel hot all over.

The dream of Hongjoong. A dream of his touch, his hot breath against your skin, the feeling of surrendering to him entirely. It had felt so real, the sensation still lingering as if it were more than just a dirty play of your imagination. Something felt lost, but you couldn’t figure out what while it ached all over your body.

But surely, it was just a dream... a wet dream at that… right… wasn’t it?

Pushing the thoughts away, you took a long bath and dressed up to join everyone for breakfast in the garden. Everyone else acted normally, and as you joined Felix and Bangchan at the table, you noticed how your brothers and the others exchanged careful glances. They wore pleasant smiles, but you could sense something unspoken between them, a cautiousness in their words around you.

Ryujin, usually one to joke with you about anything, seemed unusually silent and almost… reserved. It felt as if there was a secret flying around in the air, one that you weren’t aware of yet. Though you brushed it off as a drunk night of chaos, an unsettling feeling settled in your stomach.

Three more days passed, and the Phoenix Kingdom’s celebration continued in a grand crescendo, yet you couldn’t shake the sensation. Every day confirmed your doubt that everyone around you was hiding something.

You noticed the subtle glances Hongjoong gave you whenever you crossed paths, they were soft, with something deeper behind them...almost an apology. But he never approached you after that night, as if someone had put up a restraining order against him talking to you. He would excuse himself whenever you were in the vicinity, not sitting next to you while eating. His behavior had taken a 180, and all of this was hurting you while suspicion clouded your mind.

The others’ reactions only confirmed your suspicion that something had happened. Felix and Bangchan were more protective than usual, their attempts at behaving normally now filled with discomfort, as if they, too, were concealing a secret. The words they exchanged about you whenever someone talked about your marriage were extra cautious, stacking up with compliments and creating white lies about your skills and personality. Why were they doing this? You had no idea. But it did feel uncomfortable seeing your brothers act this way.

On the fifth evening of your visit, you wandered through the palace gardens, seeking some quiet alone time among the cherry blooms as you enjoyed the sunset, basking in its warm rays. The gardens had become your place of calm as your discomfort only grew from the unusual behavior of your friends and brothers. You let your mind drift over memories of that night.

And then, like a tidal wave crashing into you, the memories hit, sharp and extremely clear. Flashes of sensation returned: the warmth of Hongjoong’s hands against your skin, the intensity in his eyes, the feeling of giving yourself to him. Everything rushed back, overwhelming you with clarity.

It hadn’t been just a dream. You remembered now, each detail too vivid to deny as the truth sank in. That night, you had surrendered to him entirely, your virginity lost not in some wet and dirty dream but to the man who had held your hand as he returned you safely to your chambers, the man you had feelings for, which you had covered up as a simple crush in front of your brother Felix. You had lost your virginity to the man of your dreams.

~ the wild night ~

You stumbled, your balance wavering as you tried to navigate the dimly lit corridor. Hongjoong, partly sober himself, held you steady, guiding you to your chambers with a firm grip on your arm and waist. You felt a rush of warmth spread through you at his touch as you made your way back to your room, the air thick with the unspoken tension of the evening’s dance, light yet open moments, and his playful touches that almost pushed you to do something impulsive.

As you reached your chambers, a sudden surge of boldness overcame you. Without thinking, you pulled Hongjoong into a deep kiss. His surprise quickly turned into reciprocation, and before you knew it, he was pushing you gently back into the room, the door clicking shut behind you.

The moment the door clicked into place, an electric tension filled the air with unspoken desires. His eyes darkened, filled with a mix of surprise and hunger, as he pressed you against the cool wood. You could feel his warmth radiating against your body, every inch of you igniting under his touch.

As the kiss deepened, his hands tangled in your hair, holding you captive while his other hand slipped around your waist, pulling you closer. The world outside faded away, and all that remained was the taste of him—sweet, intoxicating, and utterly addictive. Your heart racing in sync with the wild pulse of the moment as each kiss ignited a fire within you, urging you to explore and surrender to the heat building between you.

He broke the kiss, breathless, and looked at you with a smirk. “You know how long I’ve been waiting for this ?” he murmured softly, brushing his lips along your jaw.

A smile tugged at your lips as you replied softly, “Maybe not as long as I have.”

His breath came in ragged gasps, and you could sense the same desire mirrored in his gaze and in his fiery urgency to have you right then and there.

The world outside faded away as the room began to fill with your soft moans as his lips traveled from yours to the soft skin of your neck. Each kiss sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that demanded more. The heat of the moment enveloped you both, and in a frenzy, you began to undress, fingers fumbling as clothes fell to the floor.

His hands moved hungrily over your body, exploring every curve as he peeled away the layers of your body. A low growl escaped his throat when he caught sight of your bare skin, his eyes darkening with desire. You felt bold, a rush of confidence coursing through you as you returned his passion with equal fire.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rough with admiration.

You felt a flush creep up your cheeks, looking away for a moment before meeting his gaze. “You make me feel that way.”

With a tender yet urgent motion, Hongjoong lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed. He set you down gently, but the intensity of his gaze held a promise of something much more. As he worshipped your body with his lips kissing a path down your chest, igniting a fire with each kiss. When he reached your nipples, his mouth took your soft breast, swirling and teasing, drawing soft moans from your lips. You could feel the heat radiating between you, his eyes dark with desire, mirroring the need that made your core ache while dripping and begging to be attended.

“You taste as good as you look,” he murmured against your skin, his eyes lifting to meet yours, sparking with heat.

Your breath caught as you replied, “Then don’t stop.”

Every flick of his tongue sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you gasped, arching your back instinctively, wanting more. Hongjoong’s hands explored your sides, fingers tracing the delicate curve of your waist as he savored every inch of you. The air was thick with tension, your breaths mingling as he reveled in the power he held over you, and you could see the raw hunger in his eyes. Each suck on your sensitive buds made you ache for him, a desperate need building down south.

When his mouth found its way lower to your dripping core, the sensations became even more overwhelming. His fingers slipped between your thighs, teasing and prepping your core as his tongue danced expertly between your folds. Each flick and swirl sent electric jolts of pleasure coursing through your body,pushing you closer to the edge with every sensual lick.

He pulled back just for a moment, smirking up at you. “You’re perfect, you know that?” he whispered, his words fueling the fire within you.

Flushed and breathless, you looked down at him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Then don’t stop now.”

As he devoured you, his fingers plunged into your ass igniting a new wave of ecstasy. The combination of his warm mouth and skilled fingers moving intensely inside your asshole brought you closer to the brink, each thrust and swirl sending you spiraling into blissful oblivion. You whimpered beneath him, gasping for breath as waves of pleasure crashed over you, nobody had ever made you feel like this. Nothing ever had felt this good. The bliss that Hongjoong brought to you made you wonder in you are willing to loose your virginity to him.

The world around you began to blur, and all that existed was the electric connection between you and Hongjoong. Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, he pulled back, his eyes dark with desire.

“I want you,” he murmured, his voice deep and gravelly as you nodded at him giving your approval. With that, he positioned himself at your entrance, his gaze locking onto yours. You felt a rush of vulnerability as he entered you, the realization hitting him that you were still a virgin. But the way you whimpered beneath him, your hands pulling him closer by the neck deeper into you, ignited a primal urge within him.

His signature smile remained as his eyes held yours, and you gripped his shoulders as his tip pushed through your walls, stretching you exquisitely as he finally bottomed out. He paused, letting you adjust to his length. You gasped, nodding for him to continue, and the way you begged beneath him, urging him to go deeper, drove him wild.

With your permission, Hongjoong began to move, each thrust slow but steady, reaching deep, hitting that perfect spot.. Your vision fogged up as stars shined while your body was consumed with pleasure as he drove into you, his pace intensifying, while his lips found yours again. With every thrust, he pushed you closer to the edge, and you could feel the climax building, waiting to erupt like a angry volcano.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered against your lips, his gaze filled with awe.

Hongjoong’s pace quickened, his thrusts growing deeper, each one hitting that just spot inside you.His lips pressed against yours, swallowing your gasps as the pressure built up fast, and each movement pushed you until you couldn’t hold back anymore. It was a blend of sweet agony and euphoric pleasure as he pounded into you with intense hunger and lust. You felt yourself losing your virginity to him, each thrust erasing any remnants of your innocence.

Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly, fingers digging into him as the building tension finally snapped, as you melted around him, your body coming undone as waves of pleaure washed over you. You came hard around his cock , pleasure consuming you completely as you clenched around him, your body trembling in his arms. Hongjoong’s name slipped from your lips, mingling with the breathless moans he drew out of you, his hips never faltering as he rode you through the high.

The night became a blur of pleasure, each moment more intoxicating than the last. You were lost in a sea of sensation, your moans mingling with his deep groans as you surrendered completely to the wild passion of the night.

~ ~

You stumbled, catching yourself on a stone bench as the truth sank in. A mix of embarrassment, confusion, and something deeper washed over you. Now everything finally made sense—why everyone was behaving so cautiously around you. From your brothers to your best friend Ryujin, everyone.

Do they all know? Does Hongjoong remember the night? If so, why is he suddenly avoiding you? Do your brothers know? Is Emperor Seonghwa aware of it as well?

To be honest, you didn’t regret losing your virginity to Hongjoong, especially since you had dreamed of marrying him in the future. Given your kingdom’s close alliances, that possibility felt within reach. However, you couldn't shake the worry about what was running through Hongjoong’s mind.

“Y/N! Why are you here all alone?” Ryujin’s voice pulled you back to reality.

“Ryujin, I’ve done something terrible, something a princess should never indulge in,” you confessed, your heart racing. “I lost my virginity to Prince Hongjoong.”

“I know,” she replied softly, a hint of understanding in her eyes. “We all know, Y/N. The maid found you both in your chamber… naked.” Her hand gently caressed your back, offering comfort.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me? And why is Hongjoong avoiding me now? Does he regret that night?” You felt the weight of your confusion pressing down on you.

“We wanted to give you time to process everything. Emperor Seonghwa instructed Hongjoong to keep his distance until you remembered the night, so he wouldn’t risk hurting you. Plus, he wanted to protect the decade-long friendship with your brother,” she explained.

Suddenly, everything began to click into place.

With that information, you dashed through the corridors, your heart racing as you made your way to Felix's room. Throwing open the door, you found Emperor Seonghwa, Bangchan, Felix, your mom, and dad all deep in discussion. The atmosphere shifted as they turned to you, surprise washing over their faces.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Felix asked, concern knitting his brows together as he stood up to reach you.

You hesitated, the weight of your revelation heavy on your chest. “I, um… I need to tell you something important,” you stammered, your voice shaking. “I… I might have… lost my virginity to Prince Hongjoong.”

A profound silence enveloped the room, your confession hanging in the air. To your astonishment, they exchanged knowing glances before Seonghwa spoke.

“We already knew,” Seonghwa said gently, a hint of warmth in his eyes. “And we support you both. My brother wants to marry you, Princess Y/N.”

“What?” you gasped, your heart racing. “But… why? Is it out of pity? I don’t want him to feel obligated.”

Bangchan stepped forward, his expression earnest. “It’s not pity, Y/N. He genuinely cares for you. We all believe he’s serious about his feelings.”

Your mother chimed in, her voice soft yet reassuring. “This isn’t just a whim for him. Hongjoong sees a future with you, and he’s willing to stand by you through everything.”

“But what if it’s just because of the situation? I don’t want to be a burden.” you replied, uncertainty swirling inside.

“Y/N,” Felix said, his voice steady, “Hongjoong is a man of honor. He wouldn’t propose if he didn’t truly love you. Trust in that.”

“I second that, Princess. I wouldn’t have entertained this matter if my brother hadn’t specifically requested it. He does see a future with you as part of it, and we would love the Dragon Princess to become a part of the Phoenix family.” Seonghwa assured you with a warm smile.

You looked around the room, seeing the sincerity in their faces. The weight of your fears began to lift, replaced by a flicker of hope. “So...you all approve?”

“Absolutely,” your dad said with a nod. “We want you to be happy, and if Hongjoong makes you happy, then that’s all that matters.”

Bangchan stepped forward, his expression serious. “Y/n, you need to meet him. He’s waiting for you in the cherry blossom garden. He has something important to say.”

You hesitated not fully sure if this was out of pity or he genuinely felt something for you.

After a moment of contemplation, you nodded and rushed outside. The cherry blossoms danced in the gentle breeze, their petals swirling around you as you approached the standing figure. Hongjoong stood under the trees, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and determination.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice soft yet steady. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Prince Hongjoong, before you say anything.If you want to marry me out of pity to save me from embarrassment, then I don’t want it!” You spoke with sureity, you loved him, but didn’t want to burden him with your responsibility.

“I would never Princess. You are not a burden to me. Infact, the exact opposite. You are a responsibility I’d happily bear. For the rest of my life." his hand carassed your hair, hoping to provide some assurance. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper, unfolding it delicately. “I wrote something for you.”

With a deep breath, he recited the haiku he has written for you :

Under starlit skies,

My soul finds its home in you,

Unending, pure, true.

You felt warmth spread through your chest as his words wrapped around you, erasing the doubts clouding your mind. His gaze locked onto yours, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable.

He stepped closer, taking your hands gently. “Y/N, look at me,” he said, his voice steady and gaze intense. “I would never propose out of pity. You’ve captivated me in a way no one else ever has. What we shared was real, and I want to honor that. I see a life with you and its not out of duty, but because I truly love you. So, will you marry me?”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his confession touched the depths of your heart. The fear of embarrassment faded, replaced by the overwhelming realization of his love for you.

“Yes,” you whispered, heart swelling with love. “I accept your marriage proposal, Hongjoong.”

A radiant smile spread across his face as he pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you while cherry blossoms swirled around, creating a perfect backdrop for your future.

In that moment, beneath the blooming cherry blossoms, your destinies intertwined, sealing your love with a promise of forever.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

Disclaimer : This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

© ShixCherie.

Tag List : @star-my | @pixie0627 | @astuteataraxy

[oftenderweapons]

Bourbon Bossa Nova | MYG | Pt.1

This story is part of the Blue Crush Collab

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (nicknamed Sunny)

Wordcount: 7k

Rating: 18+ (This part is pretty innocent, but Part 2 will feature mature content)

Genre: strangers to friends to lovers, composer!Yoongi x lifeguard!YN

Content warning: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sexual thoughts. Allusions to death, child abandonment and family loss.

Synopsis: when you start your summer at Honeycomb Cove, you're only expecting sunshine, waves and annoying teenage bravado as you work as a lifeguard. What you don't expect is Min Yoongi. He wasn't expecting you either. Soon your morning walks are your favourite part of the day, until you realise it's not really the walks, maybe it's always been him you are, after all, waiting for.

Shoutout to the incredible folks who helped me find courage to keep believing in this fic - and finally posting it. To Mars (@joheunsaram), To Bells (@youtifulhobi) to Yannie (@ressjeon), my power squad who believed in this fic (and in my writing skills) more than I did. Here's to me finally breaking my dry spell!!! And to some of my old and new supporters and cheerleaders @lelegzem0, @aanncchhuu, @blushingatyou and @percheee (other people are most definitely in this list but Tumblr is limiting my access to previous notes so I can't find you all) You folks are part of the reason I'm still rolling in the dust here on Tumblr

Part two out now!

Here's my masterlist, just in case you're new

Also: disclaimer! (very important, I should have put this first) I'm not Brazilian, and I have very little familiarity with Brazilian culture, but I really wanted to do a shoutout to this incredible country, its people, its art and its music. If you have any notes you would like to leave regarding Antonio's characters and Yoongi's attachment to Brazilian culture, you are the most welcome, both here in the comments and in my blog. I'd love to learn more 💜

Enjoy the fic!!!

May is a great thing. Flowers everywhere, the smell of sunscreen starting to spread in the air, orange dawns, hair getting frizzy with salty air and too much time in the water. Sand under your toes, loose linen garments, wearing a sports bra and a pair of shorts all the time, throwing an oversized sweater on when the night gets too cold, the smell of citrus and geranium to keep mosquitoes away. 

Early summer is great. Way better than midsummer and August. May and mid-September had always been your favourite times of the year: the beginning felt like sparks starting to burst, and the end felt like the natural conclusion of things, that languid nostalgia sweeping in gently, like the soft wind ready to carry in autumn days and blow the leaves away. 

The smell of rosemary and lavender and juniper accompanied you to the beach as you walked down one of the side alleys. 

“Good morn’ Earl!”

The old man turned to greet you as he kept watering the hibiscus bushes before the sun became too blinding, burning the poor flowers. “Morning Sunny!”

“Remember your heart pill!”

“Sure! Already took it!” Earl shouted back, his voice bubbly and bright. 

You waved at him as you kept walking, ready to meet your next friend. “Hello Rosa!”

“Hi Sunny!” 

The old lady already had her cocker spaniel on a leash, ready for her morning walk. “When’s Mindy coming around this year?”

“Mid-July. And she’s taking her children too!” The woman looked ecstatic about her daughter visiting. 

“That sounds amazing! I really have to rush, bye Rosa! And bye Lemon!”

“Lemon say bye!” Rosa told her dog, making her bark just in time before you started your jog. 

Being a lifeguard was great. It was the life you had always dreamed of. You had always worked out to fit in the lifeguard guidelines requirements, and a good ninety percent of your decisions had been oriented to making sure that you could be a lifeguard from the second week of May to the first week of October — that is the entirety of tourist season. Once autumn arrived, you would resume working at the retirement home: it was only your second year with that working arrangement, and you weren’t sure it would work at first, but your grandmother being the godmother of the director of the elderly institute guaranteed you would always find a spot working there; plus, they were also constantly in need of an extra set of hands, especially if those hands came with a degree in nursing. 

You’ve always known you wanted to work in elderly care just as much as you’ve always known you were made to be a lifeguard. Your parents were worried over the sort of sacrifices and strains that such an occupation would entail: all the caregiving, and the cleaning and the affection you spend on people you’re inevitably going to lose; yet it felt natural to you. Sure, some people can be antagonistic and diffident, in some cases you end up being more of a nanny than a nurse, but most of the time, it’s worth it. After two years in this field, the ups are definitely brighter than the darkest lows, and you’re under the strong impression that it will keep being so. 

Back to the glorious morning in front of you, you took off your flip-flops as you reached the best place in the world: the golden beach of Honeycomb Cove. Smiling, you fixed your cap on top of your head and walked to your tower, depositing your stuff in the cabin before going for your morning run. As you were opening the umbrella, taking in the blue infinity of the ocean before you, you spotted an unfamiliar figure below, a big fisher hat on its head, a long-sleeved white shirt covering its arms, a stick in one hand while the other was pressed to his lower back in a fist. 

“Hi, hello there!” you greeted, a wide smile for the small, old man walking on the shore before your tower. The bizarre figure lifted his head up, eyes squinted, his button nose curiously pointing about as he looked for the voice. 

“Over here! Good morning, sir!” You waved energetically at him, the man frowning — not that you could notice that, because of the distance and the hat. 

“Morning?” he greeted back in confusion before continuing his walk. 

Yoongi was extremely confused when he heard the voice. His night had been too long for him not to suppose he was hearing voices. Maybe his time had finally come and that was the call of some deity summoning him to whatever comes after the struggles of the living. 

What he didn’t expect was for the voice to call again, this time the source clearly identifiable. He squinted at the lifeguard tower and offered a small wave in greeting. 

She — that had to be a she — seemed to be set alight in sunlight, the early morning light making her glow in something brighter than gold. 

He had a precise image in his mind for a second, something his grandmother had told him when he was a child. Something like mythology, like Achilles’ halo of hair, or Helios who carries the chariot of the Sun. 

He shook his head and continued walking, turning around only once he was several feet ahead and her long legs had carried her in the opposite direction, her wide strides amazing Yoongi, who could just stare at her golden, looped locks bouncing as she played with the back-and-forth of the tide, running along it. 

For a second, Yoongi thought of The Girl from Ipanema, shortly before remembering all the controversies behind it, and how much his grandmother hated the song because of “the male gaze”. With chastised pupils, he let his gaze fall back to the fragments of seashells at his feet, the distant fall of her feet meeting the sound of the tide calling to his ears in a hypnotizing beat. 

All the way back to his home, Yoongi let it ring and echo through all the empty halls of his brain, until he could finally — although artificially — recreate it in the calm of his home, and let it resonate through its corridors.

Yoongi would define himself quite a reserved man. He had his home — an old Victorian-style house in the more quiet and deserted part of the bay, too inhospitable for tourists, still linked to the naval history of the cove. He had renovated the house after his grandmother had left it to him, replacing the old wooden axes with new, not rotten ones, repainting the walls and repolishing the floors, installing soundproof panels on the room he had decided to turn into his studio. 

It had only been a short while since he’d moved into the beach house; his college in San Francisco and his scholarship and research in New Orleans had sent him spiralling between opposites, diving deep into sounds he wasn’t entirely familiar with, and in a bout of homesickness and confusion, he’d decided to return to his true roots, to his true north. 

Here he could daydream of green hills and golden beaches of a faraway place that he could only imagine through the saudade of an old immigrant. He could feel the beat of that city that was nothing but an overgrown village, the roaring of cars on dirt roads, and that open-armed man that seemed to be every man, every woman, every human being in that open-armed city — that all-forgiving man that seemed to welcome strangers, with their weary feet and guilty souls. 

He knew the place that inhabited his wildest dreams, his most romanticised visions, no longer existed. It had been erased by decades of progress and politics and human greed. That place where all his bedtime stories took place was no longer, and maybe it had never been. Yet Yoongi longed to reach that all-forgiving stone man and feel, just feel how the rolling waves carried all the nostalgia and the sins and the tears of those lost souls that reached a new land hoping for fortune and maybe a brand new start. 

He too was something in between worlds. Son of a woman adopted by a foreigner and a man lost in time, somewhere. And there was nothing more foreign to him than the woman who had raised him, the same woman who had given him the house he was living in. He had always been drifting in something somewhat estranged. His mother had been a nobody, abandoned before an orphanage, the only known facts were her name — Moonbae — and that she had been abandoned as the last of sixth children, her family too poor to afford her. As a twist of fate, she had then been adopted by an American anthropologist — Yoongi’s grandma — who had always respected her will to stay away from her past. Still, loss persecuted her, her loving, if a little taciturn adoptive father passing due to a mysterious disease somewhere in Guatemala. 

It took several years for Beatrice and Moonbae to settle in the old colonial house in Honeycomb Cove; Trice had returned to her great-grandmother to assist the incredibly old lady to her last breath. Needless to say, she then inherited the house. The women lived sheltered, quiet lives until Moonbae got pregnant. A summer fling, that was all it was, the man a fleeting tourist who took a risk too many, fathering a son he would never take care of. 

His absence was filled by someone who looked the exact opposite of the little moonbeam of a child, laying pale and tranquil in his cradle, lulled by strange, exotic songs that his grandmother had perfected for him. 

Beatrice fell in love with a man who became everything to Yoongi — someone Moonbae never approved of, so much so that she decided to leave town when her son was maybe four years old. She never returned. Beatrice never looked for her either. 

Antonio was eighteen years younger than Beatrice, his skin a rich cinnamon shade, his accent so thick that it took a while for Yoongi to decipher the heavy Brazilian cadence in the man’s English. 

Yoongi preferred when Antonio spoke Brazilian Portuguese, anyways. By the time the boy was fourteen, he and his acquired grandfather easily conversed on the wooden patio, drinking lemonade, a guitar in the man’s arms. Antonio taught Yoongi everything, the boy so taciturn, so eager to listen, that the nationless musician let all his woes and nostalgia pour out. And maybe the man was no citizen, something in between an exile and a fugitive, but in that old house, he found a home, with Trice constantly refusing to marry him and loving him like a madwoman at the same time. 

Yoongi doubted love like that could exist anymore. A love so strong that when she had passed, Antonio had magically drifted away together with her a few months after, disregarding his significantly younger age. What the not-so-old man would never say was that he passed in tranquillity, knowing that he had taught his spiritual child all he had to offer. 

And just so, Yoongi won a scholarship, all because of the easy, wordless afternoons when Antonio taught him to play three instruments and speak that language that reminded Yoongi of his old cat, Sweeper, and the way he lazily rolled around in the sun. 

Now he was just a young man graduated from a prestigious music academy in San Francisco, two of his compositions had been featured as soundtrack in a couple movies, and he was already producing for a small recording studio specialised in chamber music. He didn’t make much money out of it, to be true, but sometimes he managed to have an extra income with royalties, and he was currently composing his first mixtape — for which a studio had already contacted him, and the fact that Antonio had introduced him to some of the most influential artists in the San Francisco scene had quite definitely jump-started his career. 

He was living a cool life, the kind of life he had always seen himself living. He worked at night and finished his day at seven am; then he would head out for a walk, when the sun was still gentle in summer and when it would be barely up in winter. And next, he would sleep. Wake up around five pm. Get some food ready and start all over again. He’d returned to Honeycomb Cove only six months prior, so he hadn’t yet entirely reconnected with his local social circle, plus most of his friends were still in college, which meant that it wasn’t that easy to arrange a get together. But to be true he was quite excited about Seokjin being back in town and spring break approaching. By summer come, they would all be a great team again and he would feel like he had all the time in the world. 

His musings were interrupted by the doorbell. That had to be his pizza. It was almost eleven and Gerry, the old Italian man who owned the pizza place at the end of the street, always knew that Tuesday night meant late night pizza for Yoongi. 

He grabbed the money — already perfectly calculated so he could pay for the pizza and leave a tip for the delivery boy, Pippo. But tonight it wasn't the delivery boy knocking at his door. As he opened it, he found a wondrous mass of blond curls right in front of his eyes. “Oh, hi!” 

“Hey!” The voice sounded chirpy, familiar. 

A sudden breeze pushed the stranger’s perfume past the doorway, the scent crashing over Yoongi like the surf. God she smells good, Yoongi thought, lips agape as he stared at the woman in his doorway. It was a mix of coconut and papaya, the scent overpowering the tasty smell of his pizza. 

You put on your friendliest, warmest, brightest smile, then said: “We met on the beach right? You must be Min Yoongi. I'm _____. Gerry said you always dine alone and told me you could use some company.”

“I'm not a charity case,” Yoongi replied before realising how rude he'd just been. 

“Well, that's a funny introduction, Not A Charity Case. Is that the name you chose to go by? Like Jenny From The Block?” You shook your head and looked away. “What told you it's not me who could use a friend. May I?” You asked, pointing at the door, asking if you could enter. “You can ask Gerry. He sent me. I've just arrived for the season and I could really use a friend. He told me you're a good person and you're always alone too.” 

Yoongi was almost outraged by your insolence. Were you always so blunt? He was also confused: what kind of setup was this?!

You passed him the pizza and he lifted the lid, checking that it was actually his and that you weren't an imposter, or a serial killer. 

'Take the golden retriever girl. She needs a smart friend. -G,’ read a note left inside the box.

“Yeah, I’m Yoongi,” he said, almost defeated. “Come on in, then.” If he found his house entirely stripped of anything worth money, he would sue Gerry. 

“Oh. Thank you.” You flashed him a grin. 

Yoongi's knees almost caved. What a smile. It was like… like staring at the sun. But in a good way. It was like a blue sky. Soothing. Serene. Cloudless, pacific. 

You placed your own pizza box next to his on the counter while at the same time you looked around. “Wow, your house is so pretty. Your family lives here?” 

Yoongi opened his pizza and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “I don't have a family anymore.” 

You froze. “I'm sorry.” You were already failing at this. That's why your friends all had fake teeth and a medical record thicker than your cookbook. Not to mention the average age.

“It's okay. I got used to that. You should be the lifeguard, right? Wait, would you like some beer?” 

You shook your head. “I'd like some water please.” 

Of course you would, he realised. You had to be one of those health freaks. He could already anticipate how easily he could make you run from him with his suicidal diet. 

He placed a glass beside your pizza box before sitting down and getting ready to dig in. “I still owe you the money. From the pizza.” 

“I already paid for both. I thought that since I wasn't bringing you a housewarming present, I could at least buy you some food.” You took a slice and started eating up, humming and nodding at the taste. “I get why he works so much. This pizza is heaven.”

“Yeah. All the kids here grew up on sunshine and Gerry's pizza,” Yoongi mentioned casually. He liked that you talked with your mouth full. He did, too. Beatrice had never liked that. 

“Are you from the neighbourhood?” He asked before wolfing down another slice. 

“Kinda. I live a bit farther into the mainland. I used to come here on holiday when I was little. With my parents.” You took a sip of water as Yoongi learned one more thing about you. 

“I thought so. I don’t really remember you from growing up, and me and my friends know all of the locals.” Yoongi studied your face, trying to dissect any detail that could make you familiar. 

“I see. You’ve been raised here, I assume?”

“Yup.” The silence is heavy, but at least you can distract yourself with food. “So, lifeguard? That your dream job?” He said it sarcastically, almost evilly before he realised you were nodding eagerly and happily. 

“My great-grandpa was a sailor. I've always wanted to live by the sea.” You munched on the crunchy crust, Yoongi blinking rapidly. 

Making fun of you felt like shooting a dead body. There was no use — and no mercy — in doing that. “Shouldn't you be in college or something?” 

“I took nursing school. And I'm old enough to be out of college.” Yoongi’s tone had really made that sound like an insult, but you tried your best not to assume the worst.

Yoongi tried to get on his better behaviour. You were a new person, you wouldn’t understand his sardonic tone. “I'm sorry,” he said, contrite. 

“For what? Me being a certified nurse and a person in charge of other people's lives? I know I look stupid, no need to rub it in.” You arched an eyebrow, rather fed up with the weirdness of this exchange, of the man sitting before you. You stood up and closed the box of your pizza, still half uneaten. “Sorry I disturbed your night. Enjoy your meal—” 

“Wait, no! Don't go, please.” He didn't know what suddenly convinced him to make you stay. “I was a dick, I'm sorry, let's start over.” 

You hesitated for at least three seconds and then, despite your better judgement, you sat back. “I'm ____. But my friends call me Sunny. It's my middle name. Really. My parents thought it funny.”

It suited you so damn bad. Yoongi wanted to bask in your aura in a hammock with a slight breeze and a samba playing in the distance. “It's a really nice name. It really suits your appearance. And I mean that as a compliment.” 

You breathed out the tiniest laugh. 

“I'm Yoongi and that's the only name I have. We don't use middle names.” He relaxed once you opened your box once more. 

“Where is it from?” You asked, recognising the name being foreign. 

“My mom's name is Korean. She picked a Korean one for me too. Just to remind me we're not entirely American.” He was vaguely bitter about that. Maybe just indifferent, you told yourself. That must have been tough. 

“That's interesting,” you mused, drinking some water. “How old are you?” 

Your question was naive. Childlike. “I'm twenty-three. And you're…?”

“Twenty-four. Twenty-five in a couple weeks.” You smiled and he was once more lost in how radiant you looked. 

Once you were finished eating, you rinsed your hands at the sink, helping him get rid of the boxes before shyly following him as he moved to the living room. 

“Wow.”

“It's a bit overwhelming, I know.” He looked around, analysing the room through a stranger's eyes. “My grandma was an anthropologist, my grandpa too, though I never met him. She travelled a lot and always brought back fancy things.” 

“What's this?” you asked, watching a strange fork of sorts. 

Yoongi sat down and grabbed a bizarre little stick, no bigger than a pen, with a large ball at the end. He hit the fork, a soothing, metallic sound coming out of it and the box at its base, amplifying the cold dong. “It's a diapason. It gives a specific note. This one sounds like la. Or A, whatever notation you prefer. We use it to tune instruments like guitars.” 

You nodded. “That's interesting. I like it.” 

Yoongi chuckled. “It's very soothing, right? It resonates at a frequency that has positive effects on humans. My grandma used to play it when I needed to calm down as a baby.” 

Thinking that the coarse man before you had been a baby felt baffling. “And it still relaxes you?” 

“It does. But I think it's more of a reflex. I think they trained me. Like Pavlov's dog… Wait, was that Pavlov?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a giggle. 

“Sometimes I think I was a strange experiment. That's what happens when you have two scientists in your home.” He shrugged with a funny grin on his face, his cheeks going puffy as he did so. 

“It's okay. You lived through that. You're not doing bad for a lab rat. You could be having bald spots by now,” you joked, almost expecting him to get confused or disgusted. Instead he laughed. 

His laugh was so soft. He actually looked soft, with his gums out, his cheeks puffed up, his nose curled up cutely. Yoongi was cute. Very much so. 

“So, what do you do for a living?” 

He blushed to his ears. “I'm a musician. And a producer.” 

“Wow. That sounds cool! How does that work?” Your voice was filled with wonder, making Yoongi understand that after all it wasn't like you were dumb. You were just unashamed of not knowing things. 

“I make songs. Spend too much time on the computer fixing songs for other people. And then spend a little bit of time with my instruments, going through riffs and melodies, finding little things that inspire me for longer songs or pieces.” Yoongi stopped himself from dumping all of his artistic worries over you. 

“You studied at UCLA?” you asked, knowing that was the best place for a person like him. 

“Actually, no. My grandfather got me into an academy in the city. I mean, my granny's boyfriend,” he corrected himself. Considering Antonio his grandpa had always come natural to him, but he'd never substituted himself for Trice's husband. 

“It's so cute that she found a boyfriend. You mentioned your grandpa passed so I guess she met the guy after?” You posed the question gently, wording it accurately. 

Yoongi nodded. “Yup. I was a toddler when they met.” 

You hummed. “With all respect to your grandpa, I like when old people find a partner — or at least, someone meaningful to them. It brings a lot of joy and newness in their lives. Partnered old folks have a way less lonely life. And it seems they live longer too! I read a paper for a course back in college.” 

Yoongi was pleased to receive confirmation of you being an old people's person. Hopefully you also hated kids so he could actually deem himself safe. “So you actually liked nursing school.”

You bobbed your head enthusiastically. “I’ve always liked the idea of working in a retirement home. Old people have so many stories and so little audience. I like staying with them, helping them write memories they can pass to their overly busy children and grandchildren. And they learn about technology, they play cards. They crochet! Isn't that amazing?!” you exclaimed with a radiant look on your face. 

Yoongi realised you were a genuinely generous person. You reaching out to him wasn't just Gerry forcing you to Yoongi's place, but hopefully you needing a friend. It really seemed you could use a pal your age. “And how does that pair up with your lifeguard position?” 

You shrugged. “I've always loved the beach. And splitting it with caregiving helps me from taking nursing too seriously. It helps me worry less about people… passing, you know.”

Yoongi nodded. He hadn’t thought about what it means taking care of someone day after day after day, and then suddenly they’re gone. He also thought about the different weights of a job: probably that was the same reason why it had taken him so long to work on his music while delivering piece after piece for commission. He had lost the passionate side of it.

“So, your granny's boyfriend got you into a music academy and then?” 

Yoongi smiled, then he started telling you everything about that. 

The two of you talked way deep in the night, the initial strangeness turning into easy chit-chat about school, life, family and work… It was almost one in the morning when you realised it was time for you to go. Once Yoongi noticed how long he’d been talking to you, he blushed and understood it was time to say goodnight, no matter how warm and welcome he felt at your side. 

He accompanied you to the door, then stood on the porch, waving at you before wondering whether he should accompany you home. “You’re staying here in town, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’m just five minutes away from here. I have my bike.”

“You don’t want me to drive you?” He rubbed the back of his neck as he waited for your reply. 

You shook your head. “I’m okay, don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”

Yoongi realised the reason why he felt sad about you refusing was exclusively because he wouldn’t be able to spend more time with you. He was struggling to let go, after only a couple hours of chatting, and at least half of that being awkward acquainting with someone new. 

And to further increase his struggles, he could almost hear Antonio scolding him for letting go of someone that made him feel good. “Will I see you tomorrow morning at the beach?”

You were ready to leave when you heard Yoongi’s question. It sounded vaguely insecure, as if he was testing the waters. “Come meet me at seven. I’ll be there.”

Yoongi nodded to himself. He should have asked for your number. Stupid social anxiety. 

“Goodnight Yoongi!” You waved from the gate before leaving.

He stood there, arms crossed, shrinking inside his striped polo shirt, its long sleeve doing very little in keeping him warm. So unexpectedly his night had changed. He thought about the percussion riff he’d jotted down that morning around nine, laying in bed, sleepless. For all he knew, you could have possibly changed his life. 

He would remember tonight forever. 

The following day, Yoongi left his house at six forty-five. You had given him a when, but not an exact where. He was nervous. And he was somehow hoping that seeing you in broad daylight would somehow lessen your magic. 

How wrong he was. 

He waited for you at the feet of your tower, leaning against it nonchalantly while he almost ran to get there in time. Watching you arrive in sunglasses and a white sundress was definitely something. You looked like the kind of girl that could have starred in Dirty Dancing. 

“Good morning, sir!” you greeted, waving. 

“Stop treating me like an old man,” he complained, however you heard some irony in his voice. 

“Not my fault you behave like one!” you bit back, amused and maybe a little cheeky. “Hello Yoongi,” you tried again, more calmly now that you were standing before him. “I’ll go get changed quickly so we can go on a walk.”

He nodded and looked at the horizon before him, his ears blushing at the thought that you were half naked just a few steps away. You looked so lean and fit and tall and he was… He was struggling not to let his mind run wild. After all you were just a prettily shaped woman. No more, and no less. 

All the months that had passed since he’d last slept with someone weren’t a valid reason for him to think of you half naked.

“Let’s go!” you exclaimed, basically throwing yourself down the stairs and taking a few small jumps on your spot — like a golden retriever too excited about going out. You started with a jog, only to watch Yoongi’s panicked look. 

You exploded with laughter. “See, I told you! You’re an old man!”

Yoongi hid his smile with a pout before catching up with a few quick steps. “Do you need to run or can you just walk?”

“I’ll walk in the water. Helps me burn more energy and work on my stamina,” you replied, entering the water to the point it reached your knees. “You can walk on the shore. Did you sleep well?”

He looked away.

“Oh, right. You work at night. So— Did you… produce?” You looked down, careful about not splashing him. 

“Oh, yeah. The conversation with you was very inspirational,” he conceded. He hadn’t worked half as much in the last four weeks. Listening to the little riffs and chords hidden in your voice was like experimenting with a new genre. It was as if he was building a new theme for you. Something that signified your presence, but at the same time conveyed the fits and starts of meeting someone new, and getting to know them, and discovering something new about oneself from all the analogies and differences they could see with the other person. As much as he was composing about you, about the little bits he’d learned about you, he was in some way also composing about himself. 

The process had been thrilling and once he’d finished the first, roughest draft, at dawn, the music felt so vibrant that it could properly and proudly accompany the rise of the sun. It was of course still only a draft, but the way you’d talked deep into the night, the way you’d circled around things until they’d come out right, had inspired him to give it all a try. It didn’t need to be perfect, it only needed to work. And work, in the end, it did. He only wished he had sampled a piece of your conversation — that joke about him being a lab rat… the laughs that followed. It would have been great for a skit. 

“You know, I really wish I could listen to your music. I'm kind of curious about what such a quiet person considers noise worth listening to.” You looked at him. “After all, music is just very tidy noise right?” 

He smiled. “Yeah, I would agree to that.” He looked at the seashells on the shore. “I'll make you a playlist. I'll include random stuff I like listening to.”

“Oh, I'd love that!” you replied enthusiastically. “We can make a playlist for our walks!” 

Yoongi’s ears perked up at that: “walks”, plural, which meant you would do this again, soon. He was pleased at the way you had so casually hinted at creating a routine. He had someone to share music recommendations with. Someone who would maybe recommend pieces to him in return. He realised he was excited about this. So many new sensations, and none of that as unpleasant as he’d thought. He could get used tho this.

Once the two of you said goodbye, he realised he couldn't go to sleep. He was too excited about making a playlist and sharing it with you. Walking with you in the gentle morning sun. Hearing you laugh. 

Yoongi understood: he was making a new friend. 

Having walks with Yoongi became extraordinary. You started associating him with the tender colours of the shyest sunshine, and the sweet cotton scent of his shirts in the gentle morning breeze. The way his soft locks danced in the ocean air, tangling together, the way his cheeks turned into little ice cream scoops when he smiled at you as you greeted him good morning. 

Likewise, Yoongi started adoring sunshine. You ended each of his nights, bringing him into the reign of soft morning light, introducing him to a brightness he'd always much preferred doing without. Truth was that his ears had become acquainted with your vintage summer bops, with the way your steps would automatically sync up with the beat of Pumped Up Kicks when the song started playing, and your little blonde baby curls would end up bouncing by the time the first chorus came around. Sometimes you looked like one of those strange horses trained to match the rhythm of music. Dressage, wasn't that? 

And then, you loved his calm acoustic ballads, the relaxing guitar riffs that accompanied the rise of the sun. 

Once your shared routine of morning walks was sufficiently cemented, you trained him, like a stray cat, to stick around some more after your walk, convincing him to join you for a morning snack. You always brought him iced coffee and a peach jam sandwich while you drank your aloe and matcha drink before indulging in an avocado toast. He liked your mornings as much as you did. You also probably liked each other too. 

Your perfect sunny streak was tainted only by a mildly cloudy morning, during which Yoongi showed up at your tower anyway, an extra sweater on top of his long sleeved shirt. He knew you'd probably be cold. 

The striped black number seemed to be big enough for you to fill it up comfortably. After all, you were half a head taller than him, and your arms were significantly longer. At least by three or four inches, he had to admit. 

When you showed up, you looked drowsy, your hair was half low and you were carrying a different bag from usual. “Morning old man,” you called, placing your bag at the feet of the stairs. 

“Morning, Sunny. Wait. Are those actually knitting devices in your bag? Wonder Woman ____ knits?” 

“Shut up. Linda taught me. It's just something to share with the ladies at The Orchard,” you justified yourself. “We'll see if you still joke about that once you get your soft, handmade cosy sweater this winter.” 

Yoongi blinked, suddenly realising his expression had been shifting to a pout. “Are you still going to be around this winter?” 

You invited him upstairs, avoiding the question for now. Could you wait from September to May to see him again? Could you go so long without him? 

As you picked up a half knitted torso from your bag, pressing it to his face, you realised you couldn't. You also realised you had made a naive mistake. You had thought you were domesticating a stray but in the meanwhile you had opened him your home, your heart. You had invested your time in him and that made him much more than a stray. You were giving him a forever home.

“Is this for me?” he asked innocently, gently, rubbing his face against the soft, airy fabric. 

“It’s alpaca wool,” you commented drily. You already knew you would give up on your long-term dream sweater only to see him all fluffed up in the pastel mesh of colours. You smiled as he pressed it closer to his face.

“So soft,” he murmured, nuzzling up against the small piece of knitwork. The moment he opened his eyes, you realised his nose was just a tiny bit red from the chilly breeze coming from the sea, carrying a storm in its wake. His cheeks were rosy and puffy, his eyes big and dark. And his eyelashes, so dainty and insanely… flirtatious? He looked like he was seducing you for the slowest of seconds. 

You looked away, cheeks aflame. “Let’s go. Before the rain comes.”

Yoongi startled at your tone, cloudy for the first time since that night when you’d known each other too little, and he’d been unforgivably too sarcastic. He followed you like a confused pet down the stairs, then grabbed his earpods and passed one to you. 

You were especially thankful for the music now that your thoughts were too scattered for you to form sentences and make some conversation. 

“It will rain in a bunch of minutes,” Yoongi commented. “There’s no use walking today.”

You ignored him. Would he leave if you agreed with his statement? Would he think walking was pointless, and therefore there was no reason for the two of you to spend any time together today? Too lost in trying to find a meaning to how sad you felt at the thought of being apart, you didn’t realise a raindrop had hit your nose. 

The storm was coming. 

An angry guitar riff came on, The Neighbourhood blaring from the earphone as Yoongi grabbed your hand. One drop followed the other, his hand around your wrist as he tugged at your arm, running fast, faster, to a speed that felt ridiculous considering how lazy he always was. 

‘I’m going back to 505, if it’s a seven-hour flight or a forty-five-minute drive. In my imagination you’re waiting lying on your side, with your hands between your thighs, and a smile…’

You ran, faster, short of breath, the music carrying you across the sand. You didn’t even realise you were trusting Yoongi completely, even as he led you past your tower, even as he kept running while the downpour broke loose, even as The Beatles came on, singing about jars by the door and lonely people, even as the morning got so dark, the sky like a purple shiner after a rowdy pub fight. 

You kept running, Yoongi panting as the two of you finally recognised the fence of his house, the tower barely visible behind the thick cover of rain and mist. “Come on!” he gasped out. 

You kept running until you were under his porch. “What the hell, Yoongi! Why didn’t we stop at the tower!?” you scolded him, barely alive, barely breathing — how had he worn you out like this? He was way less trained than you, and yet he’d managed to run by your side, keeping your pace, ending up winded, sure, but in way better a state than you’d thought he would be.

He shook his head, bent in two, his hands gripping his knees. “I was distracted! I wasn’t thinking!”

You shook your head, too busy pulling oxygen into your lungs to fight him back. After a few breathless minutes, you sat down on the first step of the staircase. “You knew it would rain. Why did you come?”

Yoongi felt called out all of a sudden. “I— I thought you were expecting me to come. I don’t have your number so I couldn’t text you. Or call you.” He sat down beside you, his hands pressed in between his knees. “I didn’t want you to worry or think I had forgotten.” He took in a large breath. Somehow the little effort of a confession required way more air than the makeshift marathon under the storm — it was definitely shorter than a marathon. Probably not even a tenth of it. He just knew that was the longest and the fastest he’d ever run, but you were running, and you were so majestic and he just wanted to be part of it. 

Yoongi paused, gathered his courage, then murmured, “I didn’t want you to feel lonely.”

You recognised the guitar strums immediately, the song changing once more. You looked at Yoongi, Hozier’s soft voice crooning at your ear. “What about you? Were you feeling lonely?”

He looked away, too shy, too old, too used-to-it to admit it. He had no right to feel lonely when you weren’t around. He had been alone for so long, but loneliness? It had been a stranger to him until he’d learnt your name. “I don’t—”

You pushed his hair off his face, your index finger casually following the handsome curve of his jawline. “Yoongi?”

He finally turned to look at you, once more innocent in the way he seemed to seduce you. He looked so pure and for the first time you felt so desperate to taint him. You needed him to look normal and mundane and you prayed for your crush to fade, for his sinless charms to be washed away so he would show his true colours, because no man should be allowed to be perfect the way he felt perfect to you. 

“Yoongi,” you whispered, your heart tied up with pining.

‘Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do.’

You hadn’t realised your eyes were closed until it was too late, the lyrics making you open them only to notice Yoongi leaning towards you, his lips protruding in the most imploring pout you had ever seen. 

You were ruined. 

You tugged the earpod off, almost throwing it to the ground before hollering a ‘see you ‘round’ and running off in the cold rain. 

Yoongi, confused, afraid, sat on his porch as he watched you disappear. 

Part 2 will be out now!!

[cosmerelists]

Favorite Musicals of Each Order of the Knights Radiant

We’ve already considered their favorite boardgames. But what about when it’s time to go to a musical? Which musical is preferred by each order?

1. Skybreakers: Les Misérables

They think Javert is the protagonist.

Szeth: Is it not strange that the musical continues for so long after the death of the protagonist?

Nale: Ah, but it is only thus that we see the real tragedy.

Nale: As all of the lawbreakers go on living, without punishment, due the the lawman not being willing to fulfill his duty.

Joret: It’s so horrifying.

Cali: Yes, hence the title.

2. Bondsmiths: West Side Story

It’s about two warring gangs being brought together.

Dalinar: Although it is sad, it is nice that it ends with all of the previously estranged people bonding over their loss.

Navani: And it really is through music that two warring sides can be brought together--perhaps even feel love for each other.

Dalinar: Yes. 

Dalinar: Wait, what? 

3. Edgedancers: Little Shop of Horrors

Or at least, it’s Lift’s favorite.

Lift: I dunno why Wyndle doesn’t like it--it’s about a plant!

Lift: A hungry plant too, so it has something in common with both of us!

Wyndle: I--

Wyndle: Never--

Wyndle: That--

Wynde: IT WAS SO HORRIFYING, MISTRESS!!!

Lift: It’s kinda in the title, dude.

4. Stonewards: The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee

They were surprised at how invested they got.

Badali: It may not be warfare, yet the efforts of these children are so inspiring.

Zu: They truly do fight until there is only one standing.

5. Elsecallers: A Little Night Music

Jasnah just thinks it’s neat.

Jasnah: I have to respect the effort of composing each song in 3/4 time.

6. Lightweavers: Phantom of the Opera

It’s about art, tortured souls, disguises...

Gaz: I gotta feel bad for the Phantom.

Shallan: What, because his love for Christine is doomed?

Vathah: Because it would suck to live in a sewer?

Gaz: Well sure.

Gaz: But also that one-sided mask.

Gaz: He must always feel like there’s something there in the darkness, something just out of his sight.

Shallan: ...

Vathah: ...

Gaz: N-Not that I would know anything about that, ha ha!

7. Truthwatchers: Lion King

They went for the costumes and ended up being  blown away by the story.

Rlain: If Simba had just told the truth about his father’s death, all of that could have been avoided.

Stump: Yeah, well, kids are pretty stupid sometimes.

Renarin: Although by running away, Simba did get to be raised by two awesome gay dads, so that’s nice!

Stump: ...

Renarin: What?

8. Willshapers: Scarlet Pimpernel

It’s about rescuing innocent (?) aristocrats from being imprisoned and guillotined!  

Eshonai: It is truly inspiring to see a group of humans working so hard to free other humans before their unjustified deaths.

Venli: That Madame Guillotine song is really catchy though.

Eshonai: Yeah, you almost can almost understand the killing there.

9. Dustbringers: Wicked

They appreciate the overall message.

Malata: Yeah, there really are two sides to every story!

Ral-na: And just because a power is popularly deemed destructive, that does not mean it is so.

10. Windrunners: Also Wicked

Although their reasoning is...different.

Bridge Four, in their barracks: SO IF YOU CARE TO FIND ME / LOOK TO THE WESTERN SKY

Bridge Four: AS SOMEONE TOLD ME LATELY / EVERYONE DESERVES THE CHANCE TO FLY!

Bridge Four: AND IF I’M FLYING SOLO / AT LEAST I’M FLYING FREEEE

Bridge Four: TO THOSE WHO’D GROUND ME / TAKE A MESSAGE BACK FROM MEEEEE

Bridge Four: TELL THEM HOW I AM DEFYING GRAVITY / I’M FLYING HIGH, DEFYING GRAVITY!

Kaladin (wiping away a tear): It’s just such a good song.

[anyaeras]

A twisted love story || W.Maximoff (Part One)

Pairing || Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary || Wanda falls in love with Starks intern, who due to their past is very bright and soon becomes an avenger, growing closer with Wanda during their time together. Wanda would like to keep them close

Warnings || long ,, fluff ,, angst ,, child testing ,, memory loss ,, nightmares ,, slightly possessive Wanda ,, leading to dark!wanda

Master list

Part 2 (coming soon)

──────────────────────

New York was the city that made dreams come true, it was the city that never slept and it was the Big Apple, it was even home to many of the worlds greatest heroes the avengers.

Y/n was young and the very bright person they worked extremely hard to get closer to their dreams, moving to New York City wasn't easy for the young adult they left a lot of their family behind and lost a lot of support, yet after awhile, and many long, tedious hours they were able to get into a stark internship while it was a little confusing, there wasn't much information on what they were really looking for, and it honestly it seemed a little out of the ordinary. It wasn't a hard job if you think about it, now you didn't get paid but you got the experience, three days a week you attended the avengers tower from 2pm to 5pm.

They had been going to the office on this schedule for a while now, and Wanda Maximoff had it marked down in her calendar, it seemed whenever y/n was in the building, so was she.

Y/n was in the office running around with stacks of boxes, trying to get to where they needed to be as Wanda watched from a distance, leaning up against the desk, not too far from y/n's traveling path. Wanda perked up when she noticed The internal starting to stumble boxes, slowly slipping away, as they try to compose their balance, the witch was quick to hop in using her powers to hold the boxes in an upright position, red wisps floated in front of the young adults face, which allowed them to regain their balance, y/n began coming down from the shock of nearly falling, before observing how the boxes were afloat.

"Falling for me hmm?" Wanda joked as she slowly set the box's down into y/n's arms correctly, as you laughed softly at the scarlet witch's statement while feeling embarrassed for yourself, what caught you off? Guard was the scarlet witch, who is feared by so many yet in this moments, she seemed so kind. y/n saw her sweet and pleasantly warming, now Wanda, on the other hand, saw this is an opportunity.

"Hey, if you ever need some help around here, I know dealing with everyone around here can be a pain, feel free to ask for me or my assistant" Wanda stated with a soft yet very fake innocent smile her words were coated in a dimmed Sokovian accent, after the quick interaction, Wanda had left allowing y/n to continue their work, slipping into the elevator to go back to the avengers only section of the tower, yet along the way, Wanda bumped into a fiery redhead.

"Is stark's intern your new little play thing?" The Russian asked in a humorous way, almost laughing at the Sokovian, yet the scarlet witch only gave a small huff in an "as if" sort away as a reply.

"I don't want them Natasha" I want to lied even with a knowledge, Natasha, being a well trained widow, who could definitely see through the lie, but either way, the subject was dropped for the moment, well until it wasn't...

Meanwhile y/n was running around moving boxes and sorting out stuff inside some of the labs, at one point they found themselves working with some scrap parts that were laying around just for fun, yet those few minutes of free time seem to get away from them. They were pulled away from the project by the sound of the big boss man, stark.

"a little late for you to be hanging around" Tony said in the question like manner, looking down at his naked wrist, as if he had a watch on to prove his Point.

"Oh sorry I totally lost track of time, I didn't even realize I was off the clock" y/n quickly responded justifying their actions. The older man didn't seem to care too much. He came over, peering at what you had put together in your time in the honestly extremely outdated lab.

"so it seems like you've been working. That's good I don't pay bright minds for nothin" stark laughed at his own comment, y/n had thought about mentioning that they are an unpaid intern that HE had hired, but y/n just brushed it off y/n went on plugging in the small robotic looking box they had made in your now not so free time, Tony watched curiously from behind y/n, as they begin to connect the small box to a computer nearby opening up a few different software's until they found the correct one, moving over to stand off to the side, allowing the avenger behind them take a look at the device, y/n started to explain the device was a traveling AI. It could fit the needs of the carrier at any moment.Might they need a nurse or a genius war strategist, at this point if this box got a physical body, it could become its own superhero, and be a great weapon. The explanation managed to render Tony speechless.

"You had no plans or prior research building this?" He asked almost speaking to himself as he questioned getting only a negative response from the intern in front of him

"And you've never made this before?" He asked again getting the same response.

"Come with me" the broad statement from Iron Man caused y/n not to move, thinking about what he just said over in their mind, taking it an entirely different way.

"Not to my damn bed. I got a wife and pepper honestly isn't one for a threesome, well, at least I don't think?" He question himself before shaking it off.

"Anyway follow me newbie" this time y/n got up following Tony throughout the avengers tower and pushing through a set of glass doors into a very nice office.

"Furry. This is the one we're gonna keep it." Was all that Tony said to the one, and only Nick fury who gave a raised eyebrow as a reply back to the avenger. Y/n made eye contact with the man across the desk momentarily before breaking the contact looking back at Stark in pure confusion.

"Why?" the question was about you yeah, it wasn't directly for you to reply to.

"Their a genius, much brighter than banner, skilled in medical as well and war strategy I think they would be a great asset" Tony said in a matter-of-factly manner leaving y/n with a

Proud feeling in their chest.

Nick finally turned his full attention to y/n aiming a question.

"Where are you from, and do you know what you got yourself into?" Y/n didn't fully understand exactly what was asked yet they spit out a nervous reply.

"I'm from the Midwest, now living alone in the city, I wanna go back to school, oh and about the last thing I feel like I'm going to find out." Y/n replied keeping their past to themself on purpose while also trying to sound confident in their reply. They gained a small smirk from furry which the stamens "show them around the tower" was also received; and like that y/n was being pulled away into an elevator going to the locked section of the tower, the doors of the elevator opened in the center of a elegant kitchen and if you looked over to the right a rather large and gorgeous living room.

The two women who were still having a conversation at the kitchen island, both looked up moving to see who came threw the elevator doors.

"I picked the newbie, if one of you can show them around that'll be great I'm busy" Tony said quickly before wondering off into the large area, leaving you with the two women, which the dark red headed widow had chosen to also excuse herself, leaving y/n once more with Wanda Maximoff.

"Looks like you're stuck with me" the witch laughed while y/n face lost color, they didn't want wanda to think they didn't wanna be shown around by her, they thought Wanda was 'pretty cool'

Wanda prompt you to follow her through the large hallways of the tower, while all the doors looked the same y/n was sure they would find themself getting lost around here.

Wanda opened one of the many doors on the right side, moving off to the side allowing you to move inside the large suite.

"My room is right next door if you need anything and I mean anything feel free to come find me Дорогой, oh and I'm sure Tony will have your important belongings here shortly" wanda told them, before leaving y/n to settle in for a few moments.

While looking around y/n must've gotten distracted, like always losing track of time as next thing they know, their door was reviving a harsh knock, which followed by multiple agents bringing in some box's holding items clearly from y/n's now old crummy apartment, no words were exchanged as the group of agents left the box's and went on with their day.

Y/n began to take things out, placing them around the room as everything felt so fast, they were meant to just try and get a start, not become a part of this team of heroes, that's no all, they live with some of the coolest people know, like the girl who's room was only one door over...

Items now sat on selves, the bed was changed to their old bedding, it made the suite feel much more home like. Finally getting through all the box's of clothes, y/n was able to change into more comfortable clothing having no plans to leave the room, honestly they weren't to sure where to go if they did leave.

Y/n was sat on the very large bed, with their laptop pulled up trying to figure out the wifi password.

"It's 'Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist' the password" a witch said from the doorframe. Causing y/n to jump from sudden sound of her voice.

"Sorry I didn't mean to scare you" wanda apologized welcoming herself into their room, not like y/n really minded.

"Here let me see" wanda typed in the long narcissistic password password into y/n's laptop, causing it to go back into their Netflix showing the continue watching page which the witch didn't miss picking up on all the roma-coms they had been watching.

"You like sitcoms?" Wanda asked relating it back to herself

"Yeah they make life seem so much better" y/n explained as Wanda knew completely what they meant.

"You know, sitcoms are my favorite, I grew up with them" the witch recalled fondly of the past, before the bad came into her life.

"Actually I came here to invite you to team movie night, we have a movie and team bounding night every week, and as you are now apart of this teen we want you to join us?" Y/n agreed to come to the movie night. Standing up wearing only comfy clothes, which hugged their body so nicely causing Wanda to struggle as she was trying not to stare.

Wanda who was in a tang and grey sweat pants lead y/n back to the large living space they had saw earlier, yet this time multiple other avengers where sat on the multiple sofas in the area, Wanda sat down on a loveseat which was off to the side, yet still had a good view of the large television, using her arms to motion for y/n to come sit with her on the seat, as by this point wanda would be who they were most comfortable with, as they have shared moments and multiple conversations.

"My pick!" Peter had said, yet he'd been wanting to see a new horror movie, giving no one any heads up, just pulling up the movie and clicking play, to which y/n would soon find out, they were going to regret coming to 'team bounding'

Y/n tried to play it off like they were so strong, trying to no show they were completely terrified of the movie, while Wanda wasn't even trying to listen but y/n's thoughts were loud, as well as their body language, at any jump-scare y/n would flinch, the Scarlet witch didn't pay much mind leaning over to the other side of the shared loveseat pulling y/n into her side, providing some comfort, as well as embarrassing the young newbie, the black widow shot y/n a small smirk, soon moving to give Wanda an 'i told you so' kind of look.

The witch ignored the widow, focusing on calming y/n down, yet nothing seemed to work, she took a mental note that horror movies may not be aloud for a while at team movie night before quietly taking y/n's arm, gaining their attention before motioning for them to come with her, leaving the team to their movie, as they payed no mind to the two of them leaving.

"We could've stayed, the movie wasn't that bad" y/n said trying to act nonchalantly about it, knowing Wanda pulled them away due to their reaction to the film.

"No. Come let's go to my room" wanda left no room for argument, she was already protective over the new member, feeling a pull towards them. Well not like this attraction was new, not to Wanda at least, but it was just beginning for y/n.

Wanda opened up her rooms door, and it looked nothing like yours, much more settled in, the red accents inside the room reflected her personality much more than your bland room reflected yours, she went straight to the bed, motioning for you to join her on the other side, sitting crisscross on the bed, reaching for the remote before putting on one of her favorite sitcoms, which you both found much more enjoyable than the horror movie out in the living room.

"Sorry about movie night, I didn't mean to ruin the team bounding" y/n stated once more still feeling bad for pulling Wanda away from her team.

"Y/n it's okay, I'd much rather watch sitcoms and I enjoy watching them with you" She replied reaching to pull y/n into her side, wrapping her arms around the new team member enjoying the shenanigans of the show.

"Thank you" y/n mumbled out, slowly getting more comfortable with the women, which the acknowledgment made Wanda smile softly to herself, as she could feel y/n began to drift off.

The witch didn't move allowing y/n to rest after a very long day, it was like their life changed, and even thought the witch didn't know much about y/n she felt so attached to them.

Eventually wanda fell asleep to the show still playing and y/n still lying on her side, an arm was wrapped around them for the time being.

Wanda woke up around two in the morning, due to movement in the bed, after a moment of regaining full consciousness, she realized it was y/n who was thrashing around in the bed, clearly in distress.

"Y/n, y/n honey wake up" wanda tried softly shaking y/n trying to pull them out of their dream without causing them to panic to much, yet nothing seemed to be working, Wanda was trying not to panic herself, ended up using her powers seeing inside she was prepared to see the horror movie from that night, yet was met with much worse, Wanda was able to pull y/n from their nightmare, y/n jumped up with a jolt, clearly still in a panic.

"Y/n, y/n it's Wanda? You're at the tower. You're safe" the witch kept repeating, trying to ignore what she saw until you were calm.

"I-I'm sorry..."

"No, don't be y/n we all have bad dreams...would you like to talk about it?" Wanda kept her words in a hush tone, not wanting to be too loud at the late hour of the night, well more so early hour of the morning.

"I didn't mean to wake you up, I just get nightmares sometimes, and I know it's silly" y/n explain yet the other women just shook her head.

"I get nightmares, and so do many of the other avengers, it's not silly, it's just how your brain works when it's meant to be turned off" she explained to y/n trying to still comprehend what the dream was about.

"Y/n, i do have to ask though, do you remember what the dream was about? Because I couldn't wake you, not without my powers at least" the explanation would force y/n to recall what they saw only a few moments ago, flashbacks of their life, the truth about them, why they were so smart, why they seemed to be doing alright for themself even with such drastic changes in life.

"It was about my parents, well the people I lived with...see I was adopted at a young age as far as I'm aware, I don't know much about my past, I can't remember any of it, but i became the child of two scientists, I was their ginny pig, the test subject, I never went to a public school, the women homeschooled me, while the man watched how my brain was changing every hour of the day. It wasn't all bad, on my birthday they would always make me a cake and we would spend time like a family, but the next day it was back to the test, and all the labs, it was becoming to much, I was beginning to react poorly to their test, and one day I snapped I never learned how to fight but I did, I fought like hell to get away from that cabin up in the north, and it took a lot of time for me to get here...now here I am" y/n ranted out to Wanda, who was sat a little flabbergasted, while also she was livid, not at y/n but at the people who made their life so hard for so long...how could you do that to a kid.

"I'm sorry, please I can go that was a lot" y/n panicked now when the witch didn't give a reply, yet wanda was quick to hush them, pulling them into her arms letting them relax, and for once feel safe.

"Y/n as long as you're here, you'll be safe, This team, and me alone wouldn't let any one hurt you..ever." Wanda whispered into y/n's ear, her fingers ran through their hair, softly soothing them, prompting them back to sleep, still in the women's strong hold.

Waking up the next morning y/n was still passed out, sleeping soundly on the left side of the bed, Wanda got up to go get some coffee, making her way to the kitchen, she was met with the one and only russian red head. The black widow, with her signature smirk

"I'm pretty sure this is when I say...what is that saying? I told you so." Natasha poked fun at the witch, who clearly wanted more than just a friendship with the newbie, more than even romantics Wanda wanted y/n as hers, and hers only, she would protect y/n, and no harm would ever reach the newbie again....

"Wanda?" Y/n mumbled coming out of the witches bedroom, in the early hours of the morning

"Out in the kitchen" wanda called back, soon being met with a sleepy y/n, their hair messy, as they came over clinging to the witch, who by this point she couldn't even deny y/n to the other team members, they two of them became a thing rather quickly, the two of them had so much potential, getting out of this town, Wanda could make y/n a great spouse, they could have kids, the ideas bagan to flow in Wanda's mind, hoping she could fill y/n's head with the same thoughts.

that's not the end of this twisted love story thought? Is it?

[lets-try-some-writing]

I like writing little stories and snippets of things I like and alot of your TFP work I really like, but this AU was what finally got me to send in an ask, so how about this for a prompt? (I'm new to the TF Fandom so please excuse my excited rambling)

In your Innocent Abominations AU, what if - in a bout of strength and clarity - Orion/Optimus fights back against the Matrix and gets through to Megatron, Bumblebee, and whoever else might be there? (Like Elita One, Ratchet and Drift (if they came to visit), Grimlock, the Humans, etc.) He begs them - mainly Megatron - to remove the Matrix, this accursed power that's willing to kill sparklings that have no clue about their origin, that haven't done anything wrong. He even reasons that since the Emberstone, Quintus Prime's artifact and thus a creation of Primus, had created them. Despite their Earthly origins, they were still Cybertronian. But the Matrix is having none of it, actively trying to suppress Orion/Optimus again so it can fulfill its duty. 

Megatron asks who's who, if he's Orion Pax or Optimus Prime. To which Orion/Optimus says they are one in the same, just that the Matrix would offer wisdom and influence his decisions. And now the Matrix was in fill control, or trying to have full control.  A puppeteer forcing Orion/Optimus to watch as his frame attempts to slaughter innocent sparklings. 

As his strength is weakening, he bears his spark chamber and begs for the Matrix to be removed. To free him. To silence these overwhelming voices in his head once and for all. And just as the Matrix is about to smother Orion/Optimus for good (what good is "the perfect host" if it doesn't listen?), Megatron rips out the Matrix, shoves it into a container that silences its commanding whispers, and the Prime collapses from exhaustion. Optimus retains his Primely frame - the reformatting he went through when he accepted the Matrix was permanent - and his spark chamber is damaged, but his spark itself remains intact, having physically rejected the Matrix from his frame. 

But the Matrix was successful in one thing, it sowed a seed of doubt in Optimus' mind. He just hopes that despite the Terrans being of Unicron, he made the right choice in sparing their lives. Seeing the sweet Innocent Abominations sparklings happy and alive - not scrapmetal beneath his axe - was all the more relieving and could put his warring mind to rest.

It was finished. He was free. But at what cost?

I love this prompt thank you.

Previous part here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

The voices grew louder with every passing cycle. Optimus knew deep in his spark that he was hunting sparklings, but he found he simply didn't care. For weeks he stalked, his remaining inhibitions stopping him from progressing further than a few feet out from the tree line once a few warning shots were fired. Megatron and Bumblebee always stood in his way, and while the Matrix wanted the Terrans dead, it did not demand the loss of life of his own kind. There were so few of them. He could not risk killing those that remained.

The parts of him that were untouched by the Matrix grew quieter, and soon enough, he found himself no longer fighting back against the Matrix's demands. Beings not born of the Well were not Cybertronian. How could they be? They were not touched by Primus, they knew not the trial of emerging from the Well and the struggles of living on Cybertron. So many long nights he fought with himself, until at last, something in him was silenced and it did not cause him any distress to imagine killing the Terrans. The pain hung in every cable still, but it was no longer the unbearable agony that caused him to try and tear his plating off.

The itch, the urge, was impossible to ignore. But now that he had his mind? He could handle things more... delicately. The Matrix hummed in affirmation as he stepped out of the tree line one dark night, for once completely composed. Megatron and Bumblebee raised their blasters and the Terrans emerged from their resting place in horror. They did not know the details, but they knew enough to be fully aware that Optimus was no friend. Not while his optics shone a pure white.

Optimus: Megatron, Bumblebee.

Megatron: Stay back Prime!

Twitch: What's going on? Optimus, are you alright?

Bumblebee: Don't go near him! That's not Optimus, not anymore.

Optimus: That is where you are mistaken. I was foolish for failing to listen to the Matrix. It only caused me pain because I refused to adhere to it. But now-

Megatron: Save it! My old foe would never sink so low as to slaughter sparklings!

Nightshade: Slaughter...

Bumblebee: All of you, back inside.

Hashtag: No, we are staying here. We are family. And if Optimus isn't right in the head, we are going to deal with this together.

Optimus: How very noble of you abominations. If there is truly any touch of Primus in you, come to us willingly. Your deaths shall be swift.

Twitch: Why do you want us dead? I thought we were all Cybertronian!

Optimus: You wear our faces, you act like us, but you are not of us. The Matrix says this. Parasites, all of you. It is for the benefit of all that you perish by our blade.

Megatron: Stop this Optimus!

Optimus: There is no halting the inevitable. This is our only attempt at diplomacy. Give us the Terrans now and they shall die without pain. Deny us and we shall inflict as much damage to the surrounding life forms as necessary to accomplish our goals.

Megatron: This isn't you! Fight back against that Primus forsaken relic! It does not control you!

Optimus: You will not give us the Terrans... how very disappointing.

Optimus glared, but he did not fight. His voice rang cold, his expression so frigid that there was no room to even imagine what he was thinking. As he turned to walk away, his frame did not sway with any sort of life. He moved with calculation, like a true machine. Megatron almost fired on him, but he could not bring himself to for both the political havoc it would bring and due to the simple fact that he had no desire to see his old foe slaughtered. Bumblebee hurried the Terrans back inside and quickly called in all Autobots who were aware of him being on Earth and fully functional.

Arcee and Elita-1 were informed with haste. Starscream was called in, and he came without complaint the moment the situation was explained. Grimlock arrived without question as soon as Bumblebee notified him of the potential danger to the Terrans. Soundwave was kept in containment but on standby. An agreement was made that he would defend the Terrans if it was required, and in turn, he would be allowed to walk free afterwards. Megatron was willing to take no risks when it came to the Terrans and the unstable Prime. Bumblebee could only do his best to keep everyone calm as the children were forbidden from leaving and the Maltos carefully extracted. It was too dangerous to move them, not when Optimus could be lurking. And so instead they remained at home and the available Cybertronians constantly stood watch. There was always someone on guard, regardless of the situation. G.H.O.S.T were kept out of the loop through careful artificial orders and recordings.

As such, they did not react when Optimus Prime failed to return to base. None knew where he was, and for weeks, he remained completely off the map. Their fears grew, until at last, Optimus returned.

It was a sudden affair. The Terrans were milling about the Malto property and the children were sitting with them, watching Thrash play with Jawbreaker. Then there was a distinct sound of pedesteps, and Starscream who had been keeping watch that day, leapt to the air with his blasters ready as the lost Prime came crashing out of the tree line. Optimus was all but feral as he flew forward, his optics blazing white and his axe coming down hard into the ground where Thrash had been mere moments before. Starscream did not hesitate to throw himself into action, rocketing down and grabbing the Prime around the neck to by the Terrans time to flee while the others arrived.

Optimus flung Starscream off his back and slammed the seeker into the ground, causing him to scream in agony as a wing broke under the hit. The Prime did not waste a moment in rushing toward Nightshade who stood their ground, their optics cycling in fear only dulled by conviction. He charged like a rabid animal, his mind long degraded by the Matrix as he threw himself into action. Nightshade dodged the worst of it, only receiving a minor slash to their left arm. Twitch flew in to attack with her blasters, drawing Optimus's attention away while Jawbreaker rammed the Prime, sending him sprawling as he practically frothed at the mouth.

He rationalized his weeks hiding by saying it was for the best. Phycological warfare and all that. But in reality, the small parts of Orion that remained cried out and did their best to push forward morality to subvert the logic. He wandered for so long as a desperate attempt to prolong the Terrans lives. Now all that remained was wild wrath that did not even belong to him.

Elita arrived with Arcee and they wasted no time beating the Prime into the ground, tying him down like a wild boar. Starscream was tended to and the Terrans stood around in fear as Optimus snarled, screaming obscenities' and strange prophecies to the stars. Too weakened by weeks of wandering without reasonable energon rations left the Prime unable to do much when Grimlock arrived and kept a pede on his back to ensure he couldn't escape. He snarled, he bit his own derma, and by the time Megatron arrived, he'd damaged himself enough on the ground that his face bled from a thousand small cuts.

Something changed in that moment though. As Megatron drew near and Optimus was heaved to his pedes and held in place by Grimlock, Optimus stilled. He fell eerily quiet for the first time since he came bursting free from the forest. Those who were gathered feared he would attack, but instead his voice came out so softly as to be a whisper.

Optimus: Take it away. Make it be silent.

Megatron: Who am I speaking to? I refuse to be manipulated by that Primus forsaken relic.

Optimus: You speak to Orion Pax, I who then became Optimus Prime.

Megatron: How-

Optimus: We are one and the same. The relic merely awakens the Prime, it does not make us.

Megatron: Then we can remove it.

Optimus: Yes. Take it away. Make it be silent. Remove it before it silences me. I don't want to kill them. Please don't make me kill them...

Optimus spasmed in Grimlock's grip, his optics flaring as his voice turned to static. His plating folded away and revealed his spark quickly being smothered by the relic within him. Megatron did not waste a moment in dragging the Prime to the ground and reaching in to rip the relic out. It burned him, sending power flooding up his arm and into his frame. He screamed as his servos wrapped around the relic that was clasped around Optimus's fluttering spark. But with a burst of strength, he tore it free with an agonized scream from the Prime on the ground.

Before anyone could stop them, the Terrans hurried forward and checked on both downed mecha. Megatron got up with a few new electricity scars, but he was fine. Optimus for his part remained prone, his frame falling still. His spark still blazed, but it was weak. He was taken away and held in restraints, the Matrix boxed away and hidden until Optimus woke and they could decide what to do next.

But when he woke, Optimus was... different. He was still very much a Prime in frame and mind. He had the programming and he still remained the same in personality. However, as he recovered and revealed himself to be ordinary, no longer plagued by madness... he looked upon the Terrans differently. At first the gathered Cybertronians worried he was still maddened, but when questioned, he only had one thing to say.

"They are young, they are no threat to us. However... despite the lack of the Matrix poisoning my mind, I fear that they may not be pure. I could never harm them, not now. So if they really do become the threat the Matrix warned me of... I do not think I would have the strength to fight back."

With time, he returned to his normal activities, and the fear abated. He spoke with the Terrans normally, teaching them under supervision. He continued acting as Prime. But deep beneath the surface, he questioned.

And unbeknownst to anyone, when the Emberstone was used to restore the fallen, Optimus felt the all familiar call once more. The call that summoned him to receive the mighty relic of old. It was back, and this time, it was not loving.

He could ignore it. The call never grew stronger. But whenever he passed by the container the Matrix was held in, his spark flared in pain and fear.

It wanted him back. It still wanted the Terrans dead.

[themosleyreview]

The Mosley Review: Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes

What continues to be fascinating about this franchise is the amount of humanity that is found in the world of the apes. The amazing Caesar trilogy brought us a fresh take on the franchise that focused on the apes rising as we watched humanity fall and how much of our worldly views influenced how they would live among us. That made his trilogy special and set up a future that was ripe for exploring. This film carries that same torch and takes a very natural turn that is familiar and special in its execution. The idea of what Caesar fought for and believed in was on display of apes living together in peace, but the idea of one ape twisting his word to something more sinister was fun to watch and added that layer of drama that kept me invested. I honestly could've just watched the apes live in their village and be satisfied. The adventure doesn't take long to begin and where we are taken was essentially a rescue mission and along the way we learn what has happened many generations after Caesar. Where the film benefits is in the apes of course and when the humans are introduced it becomes a balancing act between the retrieving of the main characters' family and the humans slowly trying to reconnect with each other. It works for the most part, but there are moments where I wished it followed just the apes.

Owen Teague takes the lead as Noa in this new story and I loved his performance. He delivers so much warmth and innocence through his eyes and the compassion he has for his friends and family. I liked that he was constantly learning about the world beyond and above his village. As the film progress, he matures quickly from the young boy type to a man fighting for his clan. Its a classic coming of age story for a young warrior that works everytime. Lydia Peckham and Travis Jeffery were great as his friends Anaya and Soona. You feel the tender care and building of a relationship between Noa and Anaya that was sweet. The bond between Noa and Soona was fun and their banter in the beginning was great. I wouldn't mind another adventure with just the three of them together. Peter Macon was excellent as Raka and I loved his jovial nature. He was a wealth of knowledge that Noa needed to see and hear about and I loved the time we spent with him. He highlighted the real ideals of Caesar and he even felt like a preacher more than a historian. On the human side, Freya Allan joins the franchise as Mae and I thought she was great. The survivalist nature of humanity always bounces between the background and foreground in these films and she was no different. She didn’t take up space and I liked that for the majority of the film she was silent and showed off her physicality in conveying emotion and thought. William H. Macy was fun as a more dare I say, domesticated human to Proximus Caesar, Trevathan. He was so defeated, fearful and yet at ease with giving up the thought of the before apes ruled. He gave a different yet familiar view of stockholm syndrome. Speaking of Proximus Caesar, the very underrated and outstanding Kevin Durand delivers an incredible and dominating performance as the antagonistic king. He exudes power and ambition as the one thing he desires is yet a few feet from him. He had a vision even if it was a cruel and sometimes violent one. Through him and thanks to Trevathan's teachings, you see a complete mirror of how the Roman Empire created civilization, but in ape form.

Composer John Paesano brought to life this new look at the world in a very emotional and epic way. His score elevated the pain of loss during the bridge scene and highlighted the tension when Noah meets Proximus. Visually the film is as stunning and rich as the previous films and the CGI used to bring the motion capture performances to life is some of the best this franchise has ever seen. As I've always said since the beginning of the current wave of Apes films, I care more for the apes than the humans. If this film was solely following the journey of Noah and no humans were in it, I would be even more happy. This was still a great entry to the franchise and Director Wes Ball has done an incredible job bringing us back to the Planet of the Apes franchise. Let me know what you thought of the film or my review in comments below. Thanks for reading!

[liyazaki]

lessons in survival & innocence lost

I can turn it on be a good machine I can hold the weight of worlds if that's what you need I can do it- I'll get through it…

-human, christina perri

I knew GAP was smart. I knew the writers had an expert handle on the story they set out to tell, because they've been telling it exceptionally well.

I did not expect them to give us a scene that was almost brutal in how quietly and accurately it portrayed the lengths people will go to cope- to survive- living under abuse.

I wrote last week:

"when we first meet Sam, she just seems like a cold, aloof, ever-composed high achiever. the more we learn about her past, the clearer it becomes that this was by design, not by choice."

the writers had already given us enough to piece together why Sam is the way she is, but this scene really pulled back the curtain in heart-wrenching, crystal-clear fashion.

teenage Sam skips into the room, carefree & enjoying being with her sisters. she wistfully watches Nueng on the piano, playing with a borderline-terrifying smile on her face.

Nueng catches Sam smiling & asks:

Sam responds simply, innocently: because Nueng is, of course. if her sister is happy, so is she.

a quick note on Nueng's smile: Mind really going in with her facial expressions here felt so intentional. it's obvious to us that she's forcing it, but Sam in her youthful naivete has no idea. she still sees a smile for what it is, for what it should be: joyful, happy, and most importantly- honest.

it was such a smart move on the writer's part, adding to the weight of the moment that comes next.

Mind's expressions here are the definition of "a picture's worth a thousand words."

the smile fades away, replaced by a melancholy, world-weary expression. like she knows what she's about to do, and the effect that it'll have on Sam, but that it's for her own good.

right or wrong, cruel or kind- in her mind, it'll help Sam survive.

Song pipes in first, though: she knows why Nueng is smiling like that, and what it really means.

Nueng explains that it's a ruse: she's actually under a lot of stress, so she's tricking her own body by smiling.

Nueng’s explanation (understandably) isn't enough for Sam. she doesn't have any concept yet of faking emotions, let alone why anyone would do such a thing- so she questions Song about it, too.

Sam’s still processing Song’s response when Nueng walks up, placing a gentle hand on her head. the weariness is back as she tells Sam she can do this, too.

the look of wide-eyed, innocent worry on Sam’s face when she asks “how?” nearly broke my heart in two.

this is all new to Sam, but she trusts her sisters. this must be an important thing that she learn to do, right? and these behaviors have to be learned- either out of necessity or through loving, misguided instruction, like we're witnessing here.

it was like watching a slow-motion car crash: you know the impact is coming and it’s going to be awful, but you can’t look away.

I desperately wanted to shield Sam in this moment- to keep her from learning how to twist and contort herself into something she isn’t to survive the environment she was born into.

Sam parrots back Nueng’s advice at first before confusedly asking, “what if I’m happy? can I smile then?”

Nueng doesn’t hesitate: “if you smile, you lose.” and I’m on my knees, thoroughly gut-punched.

the final nail in the coffin: Nueng telling Sam that she wants her to do that.

Freen then gives us a masterclass in loss of innocence via expression alone. we can see Sam’s light diminishing right in front of our eyes, fading into the schooled, emotionally numb look we know so well for the first time.

it’s equal parts brilliant and unbearably awful.

I can fake a smile I can force a laugh I can dance and play the part if that's what you ask give you all I am…

this scene powerfully illustrated the pain desperate people will force themselves to endure in order to survive, while passing that brokenness down to the next generation. beyond the inexcusable abuse that prompted it, the real tragedy is that it’s being passed down out of love.

there was zero expository dialogue here. witnessing Sam being brought into the warped, broken fold 'for her own good' was plenty.

it was paradise lost; it was the twilight of innocence; it was the continuation of the cycle. and it made Sam’s openly-expressive, incandescently emotional vows in the wedding scene all the more meaningful.

love, in the end, finally broke the wheel.

side note- not to nitpick but I'm gonna: I really wish they went with the actress who played young Sam for this scene rather than Freen. Sam clearly knew how to force an expression much earlier, so having Freen play this scene felt like a continuity error, even though she knocked it out of the park.

exhibit a ⬇️

[i-will-cry-you-a-river]

A sequel to this story

@swagphilosopherdragon ask and you shall receive.

He knew Lan Xichen was too dangerous for a pretty little beta like him! His Da-ge's friend was a menace to his innocent little heart. How could anybody expect him to handle the situation without falling even deeper in love with Xichen-ge, when the alpha was just so damn sweet?!

He indulged Nie Huaisang so much; whatever the fake omega asked from him, he got it. Nie Huaisang wanted to cuddle? Cuddle they did. He wanted chocolate-covered strawberries in the middle of the winter? He got the freshest, sweetest, most decadent chocolate-covered strawberries. The pillow they gave him was too hard? Lan Xichen personally gave him his own pillow.

The only thing Lan Xichen did do was to talk about the fact that Nie Huaisang - for all of his sweetness, dainty looks, and pampered lifestyle - was not, in fact, an omega. Lan Xichen bought him, paid for him so much that he literally became the World's Most Expensive Omega. Yet it didn't seem to bother him that the omega scent that should cover Nie Huaisang faded into the smell of-

Nie Huaisang wasn't sure how he smelled, if he smelled at all, but he was definitely not an omega.

And it didn't seem to bother Lan Xichen at all.

It was maddening.

The alpha was maddening with his sweet smiles and blank looks. Nie Huaisang adored him.

"A-Sang," Lan Xichen approached him with a determined gleam in his eyes. Uh-huh, Nie Huaisang thought, wincing at the tone. "Can we talk?"

"Yes, Xichen-ge?" He chirped with the sweetest voice he could muster, smiling softly with the smile Meng Yao taught him. "Is there something I can help you with?"

The alpha didn't say anything for a while. His gaze was uncharacteristically intense and resolute, yet his touch was gentle like a flower petal. He gently cupped Nie Huaisang's face, his thumb tracing the soft curve of his cheek.

"A-Sang, Huaisang..." Lan Xichen began his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down Nie Huaisang's spine. He was a very very very dangerous man... "I thought we didn't have to talk about this, but Da-ge seemed to think otherwise. He advised me to approach you, because you might think..." He seemed to be at a loss for words. Something fluttered in Nie Huaisang's chest, a mixture of anticipation and dread. It would either be the thing he wanted-

Or something that could break him.

"What is it about, Xichen-ge?"

Lan Xichen's gaze bore into Nie Huaisang's. The weight of the unspoken emotions hanging in the air, beginning to suffocate the fake omega. "I don't care about your secondary gender. It doesn't matter to me whether you are a beta or an omega... It never mattered to me. I didn't want an omega - I just wanted you."

A blush crept across Nie Huaisang's cheeks at the uncharacteristically passionate words from the usually composed and polite man.

"You..."

Nie Huaisang was a master at expressing emotions he didn't feel. He was a professional at being vulnerable and delicate. His carefully cultivated helplessness defeated even Da-ge and Meng Yao, the two beings on Earth who knew him better than to fall into his trap.

Yet the soft doe eyes and hopeful look on his face were all real for once.

"I love you. I always loved you. I have known you for a long time, and I wanted you for myself. I knew you were a beta; I would have been the first person Da-ge would have cried to if you had presented as an omega. We both know he wouldn't have handled it well. He is already overprotective, he would have killed all the alphas trying to court you were you an omega." They both snickered. That was true; Nie Mingjue was very protective of his little didi, and did not like it when he went out with alphas. Were he an omega, he would have been imprisoned in the Unclean Realm, Da-ge's safe house in the middle of nowhere.

To know Lan Xichen knew he was a beta, and he still... he still wanted him. He still bought him. He still kept him.

It was a heady feeling.

"So... you knew about the Plan as well, didn't you?"

"Not really," Lan Xichen confessed with a rueful smile. "I really thought you were in trouble. Speaking of trouble..." A dangerous look crossed over Lan Xichen's face.

Nie Huaisang took a step back, suddenly feeling like in the presence of a predator. "Uh-huh... It wasn't my idea! I didn't... I'm not... I-"

"Sure, you didn't," the alpha let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. "We'll talk about it later," he promised, a hungry look on his face. Before Nie Huaisang could do anything (not that he wanted to!), Lan Xichen leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss that spoke about years of yearning and want and need.

The only thing Nie Huaisang could do was to respond with similar passion and yearning. But there was nothing he would have wanted to do more than to kiss Lan Xichen.

His alpha.

[thevisibilityarchives]

Dune: Part Two (2024), Denis Villeneuve

BIPOC

Dune: Part Two and the Discussion of MENA Representation

Review Link: https://www.rottentomatoes.com/profiles/ratings/WYdFQDHR9tGJf9wiWXh8ZFR8iGGCaLHwBhawIZ0ubbCexiapiJVTWOFeeCzdIpjhmXFp4u11CYNTl4fOPSWQfkWC6bIb6SyBFVXfO4TZzc4m/movie

Following its much-anticipated release, the long-awaited second installation of Denis Villeneuve’s Dune adaptation has proven itself a sci-fi spectacle that must be experienced to be believed. 

It’s an outrageous combination of awe-inspiring cinematography, adept writing, and the talents of an all-star cast topped off by a score by veteran composer Hans Zimmer. The result: a feast for the senses that presents the stark realization that films on a scale this epic only come around once or twice a generation.

For those unfamiliar with the source material, the full extent of how truly epic this is may be lost. Part of the beauty of Dune is that Villeneuve simplified the story in such a way that it can be understood by moviegoers with no connection whatsoever to author Frank Herbert’s novel, or ever-having-seen the adaptations by David Lynch or SyFy (f/k/a Sci Fi). Within this simplification, the story of Dune doesn’t become reductive, nor are essential plot points lost. Like all adaptations, there are components lost, however even compared to Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings it can be argued that fewer creative liberties have been taken, and the ones that have been are worthy of discussion. 

Some of these changes are adaptations inherent to the modernization of source material written by a white man in the 1960s. While science fiction has arguably been a haven for progressive ideas, it still faces the limitations of the author's society and the popular sentiments of their time. 

Environmentalism, non-traditional relationships, the loss of innocence, and the power of femininity are all topics brought to life by Frank Herbert in his original novel–adeptly at times, sloppily in others. Decades later, Villeneuve irons out some of the flaws: the white savior narrative, the depiction of women, and the dreadful attempts to depict witch children.

These changes along with the skillful dedication to a remarkable piece of science fiction create what will undoubtedly be looked upon as a classic in due time, yet has been met with some degree of controversy for its depiction–or lack thereof of one group. 

Created in their image, the Fremen were shaped after those of the Middle East and North Africa (MENA), with the Islamic faith making up aspects of their religion and the Middle East serving as the very essence of Arrakis. Yet in casting, MENA actors were notably absent from these roles, and the focus on much of the Fremen culture was notably absent, leaving many to question why.

Dune’s Roots in the Middle East

Written in 1965, Dune is considered one of the most remarkable science-fiction books of all time. Part of this significance is because, in 1965, it was a book that attained popularity while being so fervently against the cliches present in normal bestsellers: moral absolutes, Eurocentrism, and Western imperialism. 

For over a decade, we have now come to cherish and normalize media that centers around morally gray and ambiguous characters. We actively seek out things that de-center white, straight, and cisgender narratives. Yet in 1965, a world wherein the United States had barely de-segregated, homosexuality was outlawed across most of the world, and Christian colonialism efforts still ran rampant across many nations? A book challenging the status quo was impactful. 

The representation of MENA culture is intrinsic to everything that Dune is, from its language to its scenery to the music present in Villeneuve’s adaptations. Set primarily on the desert world of Arrakis, Herbert based the topography of the planet on regions of the Pacific Northwestern United States, yet its allegorical implications are clear. 

Arrakis is home to melange or “spice”, a heavily-coveted resource that grants extended longevity, bestows metaphysical abilities, and fuels interstellar travel. The latter is perhaps the most commercially beneficial of the three, and drives colonization of Arrakis, as well as the oppression and subsequent eradication of its Indigenous peoples.  

Within his writing, Herbert created a clear mirror of our own world: a desert region, plagued by war, aggression, and despoilment of the environment all for the sake of natural resources. In our own world, that resource is oil, and our Arrakis is the Middle East. 

Arriving just as environmental advocacy began to take off in the 1970s, The History Channel states “Many environmentalists interpreted Dune as a critique of the oil industry, with Herbert’s friend Willis E. McNelly writing that the empire’s reliance on spice can “be construed as a thinly veiled allegory of our world’s insatiable appetite for oil and other petroleum products” (Greenspan 2024). Perhaps more salient are the linguistics of Dune, which are directly composed of Arabic words. Throughout the book, both the Fremen, the Indigenous peoples of Arrakis as well as other factions of the world are described using Arabic language. Manvar Singh writes:

“The language with the greatest influence in “Dune” is Arabic. In the novel, the Fremen use at least eighty terms with clear Arabic origins, many of them tied to Islam. The Fremen follow istislah (“natural law”) and ilm (“theology”). They respect karama (“miracle”) and ijaz (“prophecy”), and are attentive to ayat (“signs”) and burhan (“proof”) of life. They quote the Kitab al-Ibar, or “Book of Lessons,” an allusion to the encyclopedia of world history penned by the fourteenth-century Arab historian Ibn Khaldun. Central characters are dignified with Arabic names. The colossal sandworms are called shai-hulud (“thing of eternity”). Paul Atreides’s sister is Alia (“exalted”). Paul himself is known as Muad’Dib, an epithet that resembles the Arabic word for teacher (mu’addib), and he is fabled to be the Lisan al-Gaib, translated in the book as “Voice of the Outer World” but which, in modern Arabic, means something closer to “Tongue of the Unseen.”

Then of course comes the music, composed by industry titan Hans Zimmer who broke his longstanding alliance with director Christopher Nolan to focus on Dune and Dune: Part Two. In creating his score, Zimmer explored a full range of instruments in a way he claimed he had not since scoring The Lion King. Utilizing vocalists, an array of culturally diverse instruments, and spending ample time listening to the sounds of the desert, he synthesized the music together to intentionally create a soundtrack intended to mimic the experience of a spice-induced trip in a desert sandstorm, embraced by the energy of the divine feminine. 

An Absence of MENA

With the depth of these roots in Middle Eastern culture, it would stand to reason that Dune would feature a sizeable cast. In addition to the Arabic language, Fremen religion heavily mirrors Islam, and while there are certainly Caucasian converts–we are focusing on a war for Arrakis and its Indigenous peoples.

Upon first glance at the Fremen in the first installation of Dune, we see a spattering of brown and black faces. Most notable are actress Zendaya who is biracial, and Javier Bardem, who is Spanish. Further introduction to the rest of the Fremen reveals similar casting choices among billed actors. 

It’s straightforward: “Despite the film's obvious inspirations, there are no leading actors of Middle Eastern or North African heritage.” (Shah, 2024) 

And why does this matter? When we beg the question of the difference between appropriation and appreciation, the deliberation includes questions about participation. Without the participation of the cultures involved, representation warps into fetishization at best, and appropriation at worst. 

Dune is a tale that warns us about the harms of colonialism, environmental despoilment, and religious extremism. Villeneuve’s version takes care to approach the topic of colonialism with extra caution, approaching painting the Fremen not as a singular unit that can easily be converted by the right white savior, but as a multitude of people with different beliefs. Some fundamentalists believe deeply in their faith and follow the direction of Paul and the prophecy instilled (falsely) by the Bene Gessirit. Then there are the detractors like Chani who have seen attempts at colonialism before, and who shy away from religion for that exact region. They reject Paul’s so-called place as the Chosen One–and any outsider who should lead them. 

To make these changes shows consideration on Villeneuve’s part. To fail to recognize the importance of casting actors of Middle Eastern and North African descent in a story directly inspired by a culture based on the Middle East and North Africa shows a distinct lack of it. 

A New Decade of MENA Representation

So, why such a prolific absence of MENA representation when it would truly make an impact? We need to examine two factors 1.) the overall distancing from Islamic culture within Villeneuve’s adaptation, and 2.) how filmmaking in a post 9/11 world has changed the representation of Islamic characters. 

As an adaptation of Herbert’s novel, Villeneuve takes the traditional liberties with the source material that a director is known for in bringing a book to the big screen. The core tenants remain, and many of the most important phrases and elements are retained. Yet to make the adaptation accessible to audiences unfamiliar with previous adaptations or the book it has been simplified. 

This simplification allows Villeneuve to pour energy into enhancing other aspects of the film. He drastically expands upon the female characters within the film, giving them purpose outside of appeasing Paul, bewitching men, or narrating his life.

With adaptation comes a loss of the “finer details”. In addition to the distinct lack of MENA actors, there is a drastic reduction in the language, and of course, scenes depicting Fremen's way of life and culture. These include rites of inheritance, polygyny (not to be confused with polyamory), and the decidedly not-Islamic-inspired ritual orgy that occurs following Jessica’s confirmation as the new Mother Superior of the tribe. 

These departures (the orgy notwithstanding, undoubtedly shed without a thought to maintain the film's PG-13 rating) are but a few of the cultural aspects sanitized from a story showcasing Arabic inspiration. Though it’s impossible to diminish it completely. Looking back through Villeneuve’s background, we can speculate on his reasons for this and perhaps consider whether it was done with intent. 

Following the September 11th attacks, Hollywood faced years of missteps in the representation of MENA characters onscreen, who were then stereotyped in the roles of jihadists, an imminent threat to the West for years to come. It didn’t matter whether the film took place in the past or present, the ideals were functionally the same. 

A notable example is Zack Snyder’s 300, adapted from Frank Miller’s graphic novel of the same name. Published in 1998, Snyder brought the film to life in 2006, where it received mixed critical reviews, and uproar internationally for its depiction of Iranians in the Spartan and Persian Battle at Thermopylae.

Brazilian actor Rodrigo Santoro portrays the antagonist King Xerxes as an effeminate gold-painted and pompous self-proclaimed God-king who seeks to drive forward a kingdom of sexual slavery. Leonidus, portrayed by Gerard Butler and his 300 men stand fierce to beat back Xerxes' soldiers and defend the good people of Sparta from slavery, the injustice of war, and the bleakness of what Xerxes promises. 

Yet the historical inaccuracy is ripe, and rewritten to appeal to Western notions of glory and sentiment. Historian Gary Leupp of Tufts challenged the film, explaining” In short: 300's depiction of the battle of Thermopylae is not merely inaccurate, as any film adaptation of a graphic novel has the perfect right to be. It's what the Iranians say it is: racist and insulting. It pits the glorious Greeks with whom the audience must sympathize against a "mystical" and "tyrannical" culture posing an imminent existential threat. It is, de facto, an anti-Persian/anti-Iranian propaganda film” (2007). In his statement, he explicitly breaks down the inaccuracies regarding the history of Xerxes and Persia versus the representation seen onscreen, which can be found in the citations link below. 

300 was but one example on the big screen. The late ‘00s/early ‘10s was the period of high-stakes television and as well. Shows like Homeland brought A-list performers like Claire Danes onscreen and normalized Islamophobia. Numerous forms of media following the attacks have depicted Muslims as “extremists, barbaric, insidious, and untrustworthy”. 

What many of us forget about is the very simple passage of time and the birth of new generations. Within a few short years, Gen Z has arisen, all but forgetting the pain and anxiety born of the September 11th attacks and seemingly everything that came with it–after all, none of them can even remember the day. 

In addition to that they are a generation born amidst an era of rapid information cycling and trend generation, and place an importance on publicly presenting their morality on their sleeve. All of this combined means the lessons, hardships, and mistakes of the past–can be forgotten quicker than we can imagine, and expectations to adhere to newly defined ideals of what is politically correct are defined seemingly overnight. 

It can be hard to keep up with. Especially if one is still concerned with the trials that seemed so important–and still are–ten years ago. Given the thought Villeneuve put into expanding upon aspects of Dune, it is difficult to imagine he didn’t put thought into how issues of problematic representation of MENA could arise. 

Ali-Karjoo Ravary writing for Al Jazeera pointed out during the release of the first installation of the film that the brand marketing changed up some of the wording of the film, stating “a crusade is coming” which marked an intentional difference from the book’s statement of “a jihad is coming”. Wording matters, as “Herbert’s nuanced understanding of jihad shows in his narrative. He did not aim to present jihad as simply a “bad” or “good” thing. Instead, he uses it to show how the messianic impulse, together with the apocalyptic violence that sometimes accompanies it, changes the world in uncontrollable and unpredictable ways.” (2020)

Of course, Herbert’s interpretation is an empathetic view and not one shared by many people with biases against those who pray to any god without white skin. While he tries, Paul ultimately succumbs to his will and manipulates the Fremen into following his aims to declare war on the galaxy. As the Fremen are proven to be some of the most formidable fighters we have seen and Paul’s manipulations are aided thanks to religious seeds planted by his mother’s order, this becomes a jihad in every way. He is the prophet. They are his holy avengers.

To cast MENA actors in these roles would once again fill slots of extreme religious fundamentalists, and this time, ones following a white man–no matter how nuanced the film has been made. Granted, as actors, they have a choice. Choosing representation is better than having none, however, if they had the conversation would likely then become “Dune: Part Two is a stereotype of MENA actors”. 

Is there a middle ground? There is of course, and this is where we notice the overt failure of casting directors in Hollywood. Following the criticism of the first film, Part Two touted its hiring of Swiss actress Souheila Yacoub who is of Tunisian descent. She played the role of one of the Northern Fremen, who stand against Paul’s attempts to co-opt their culture. Yet from the beginning, why not more featured characters? Why not Stilgar, Chani, Jamis, or even a surprise role similar to the one Anya-Taylor Joy played? 

While post-9/11 Islamophobia may have ebbed before the War on Gaza, we’ve entered a time where even the Hollywood excuse for “star power” fails when we remember the global world we now live in. Whether they are stars in their land or Americans with parents or religious heritage, there’s little to no excuse for the continued erasure and diminishment of culture onscreen–and in time Hollywood will come to know it. 

Citations: https://www.rottentomatoes.com/profiles/ratings/WYdFQDHR9tGJf9wiWXh8ZFR8iGGCaLHwBhawIZ0ubbCexiapiJVTWOFeeCzdIpjhmXFp4u11CYNTl4fOPSWQfkWC6bIb6SyBFVXfO4TZzc4m/movie

1. Maxwell D. Post-colonial Christianity in Africa. In: McLeod H, ed. The Cambridge History of Christianity. Cambridge History of Christianity. Cambridge University Press; 2006:401-421.

[nectaric]

Common misconceptions:

there seems to be this reoccurring idea about zeus that says he is unintelligent or rash, and that his sex drive is his main motivation for everything and often leads to dumb decisions. which is extremely frustrating because it could not be more opposite. zeus is literally a god known and revered for his wisdom and sense of justice. his decisions are always carefully calculated. and his trysts with lovers are primarily motivated by either duty or love, neither of which are rash acts of lust but something far more meaningful - or at least purposeful. the more research I do, the more convinced I am of this fact, and the 'big idiot Zeus' trope is suuuper misguided.

i'm doing two because I can. a common misconception for hades is this idea that he is somehow kinder, purer, better than the rest of the gods because of some skewed sense of morality that people apply to them. the 'hades can do wrong, he's an innocent teddy bear' kind of rhetoric. I think it's perfectly acceptable to see the good in him, but using hades as this symbol of perfection is not only inaccurate (he doles out cruel punishments, he cheats on his wife, the same as the other gods do), but it also does a disservice to who hades is. he is not meant to be perfect, he is meant to represent the cold and unforgiving but ultimately fair realm he rules. he's not a teddy bear.

An important headcanon:

zeus is an excellent king. he is charismatic and charming, and knows how to work people to get what he wants with startling success rates. he is incredibly wise and observant, and can read a change in the room or in a person's mood from subtle hints. he can infer what people want or need with minimal clues. he has a very strong sense of justice and an aptitude for discovering what is fair and best for people. he has not been perfect and has made mistakes, but he has also owned up to them and continues to strive to be better.

hades being a deeply emotional and troubled individual who is terrified of letting go of the stoic mask he has crafted for himself is integral to his character. hades appears cold and aloof, uncaring and calm, patient and quiet. he is not easy to anger and few have seen him cry. but internally he deals with a lot of emotion and struggle - trauma, anxiety, a feeling of inferiority, autism and its associated struggles. he has to fight to stay composed all the time, and much of his energy is dedicated to that. which means that in interactions with others, he is often putting on a facade - or, if he does let down his guard, it is a sign of utmost trust.

A useless headcanon:

zeus has kept every fathers day gift his children have ever gotten him.

hades keeps a little journal (multiple journals at this point) where he ranks and keeps track of every movie he's ever watched and what he thought about it. Vertigo is his favourite of all time.

Potential triggers:

Zeus' story includes violence, death, torture, child abu/se, eating dis/orders, SA, and a lot more I'm sure.

hades' story is also full of triggering content, for sure. violence, death, kidnapping, SA, alcoholism, child loss, self h/arm, abuse, and probably more I'm forgetting tbh.

Something you enjoy about writing them:

Zeus is so FUN??? his dialogue is always wittier and snappy, with lots of sarcasm or really bold statements that I always enjoy getting to write. and there's such a variety between his relaxed moments, his moments with family, his moments with strangers. genuinely writing his dialogue is always enjoyable.

I also love writing hades when he's laid back tbh. writing a hades who has let his guard down, who dares to crack jokes or be himself is a lot of fun and I wish I could do it more but SOMEONE makes it difficult

Something you want others to know before writing with them:

zeus is not a punching bag. he is not a character I am willing to let be dragged through the mud or treated poorly to make another character look better. I am totally willing to write him in undesirable ways or acknowledge his flaws and mistakes but I won't let him take abuse and honestly??? neither will he. with that in mind, we can still get deep with it!

hades loves his family. and yes, that includes all of them. he may not be close with all of his siblings or nieces and nephews but he still cares deeply for them and tries not to judge them too harshly. insulting any of them in front of him because people think he hates them is probably a bad move.

tagged by: @kallistcs

tagging: you!!

[mightnotfeelrealbutitsok]

Ok but how do I explain why I love the endings of The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit so much. Often endings are the worst part of a story and I think they're extremely hard to execute. I'm starting to think that having an impressive ending, not anticlimactic or jarring or overly sweet or with too much housekeeping, is what makes or breaks whether a book (or film/show I suppose) is really going to become one of my favourites. Tolkien’s endings are some of the most moving parts of the books and there is no sense that you’re already past the real termination of the storyline or that the aftermath is overly plateaued (happily ever afters are so terribly static). The protagonist’s story arcs end on the final pages so there is no extraneous material after the story - Frodo leaves for Valinor right at the end of the Return of the King, Bilbo returns to Bag End in the last chapter of The Hobbit (I think). Also, the endings pack a thematic punch; they are all about sacrifices for the greater good, and grief being the inevitable counterpart of love, and the relief and affliction that come after toil, and the bittersweetness of loss of innocence. For me the combination of positive and negative emotion makes for the ultimate soul-wringing experience. Like. Gandalf’s quote:

I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.

The shire was saved, but not for Frodo. There’s great achievement but for the sake of it Frodo lost his own chance of happiness in Bag End and going into the West is a relief from his trauma but it also brings grief to Sam who must live on without him and Sam will live the life Frodo was denied because his heroism was a self-sacrifice… In The Hobbit it’s the fact that Bilbo comes back changed; he becomes aloof and thoughtful and an odd ‘elf-friend’ and he starts composing poetry which takes Gandalf by surprise. He returns with a newfound worldliness which has some tinge of sorrow to it, having experienced violence and loss e.g. Thorin’s death, and widened his perspective to understand more than just the comfort of the Shire. It’s enlightening and it’s a sever from who he used to be and the good things are made more dear but that’s due to the knowledge of discomfort and sadness.

[theblondeskywalker]

Hermann Hesse: Demian - The Story of Emil Sinclair's Youth

Genre: bildungsroman Publication date: 1919 Number of pages: 176

A few months ago I decided to start the classics. Not all of them though, just the ones I find appealing enough to read. I explored Demian by accident, and it wasn't Hesse's name that sold me the book; it was this quote on the back.

"Genuine communion - said Demian - is a beautiful thing. But what we see flourishing everywhere is nothing of the kind. The real spirit will come from the knowledge that separate individuals have of one another and for a time it will transform the world. The community spirit at present is only a manifestation of the herd instinct. Men fly into each other's arms because they are afraid of each other - the owners are for themselves, the workers for themselves, the scholars for themselves! And why are they afraid? You are only afraid if you are not in harmony with yourself. People are afraid because they have never owned up to themselves. A whole society composed of men afraid of the unknown within them! They all sense that the rules they live by are no longer valid, that they live according to archaic laws - neither their religion nor their morality is in any way suited to the needs of the present. For a hundred years or more Europe has done nothing but study and build factories! They know exactly how many ounches of power it takes to kill a man but they don't know how to pray to God, they don't even know how to be happy for a single contented hour."

The author's pseudonym was Emil Sinclair, and even though he mentions some parts were inspired by his youth, it cannot be considered as an autobiography.

We follow Sinclair's path to adulthood, but this process is only important from a "spiritual" point of view. The novel doesn't contain many conversations but somehow, in this case it's not bothering - almost like reading a well-written diary. And now I'd grab the opportunity to tell one of the novel's greatest qualities: more than 100 years old, but its language is easy to understand.

Demian's topic is timeless as well. No one captured the loss of child innocence the way Hesse did. The way he shows the "two world" in young Emil's life: one of them is pure, inherently good and safe (his family home) and the other one represents the outside world, full of cruelty and evil. Then a life changing moment happens that ends Sinclair's idealistic bubble - and it taints him too.

The second protagonist is Demian, who's -strictly by the rules- not a protagonist at all, but leaves a life longing mark on Emil. Demian doesn't appear much but when he does, it's important and I was always waiting for him to come back. Hesse gives us a lot of him without ever seeing his point of view, and you can sense his presence even if Demian is physically not there.

We face questions through Sinclair like what holds a society together? What's my own personal path? What's my goal in life, even if I see nothing in front of me? How long the things I've done will affect me? What's faith - if I have one at all? All this with an appearance of Christianity, Nietzsche's agnosticism and Freud's sexualpsychology. However, it's not the author's intention to give crystal clear answers to these questions. It's something you have to find out on your own.

Even I'd recommend it for everyone, this novel is mostly for the outsiders. Maybe it grew close to me because I'm one of them myself, and I feel like my deepest thoughts were put into words. Whenever Sinclair tries to fit in, he fails. He becomes depressed and for decades he couldn't find out why.

The main message of Demian is that we have to learn on our own what's good or bad; and to find out where we belong is often a long and painful experience. But it will eventually led us to our purpose, which is a true gift - considering that majority denies themselves and blends into the crowd.

Overall rate: 10/10

[helloitsalexsworld]

Reading Response #3

Projection: Vanishing and Becoming

Sean Cubitt's thesis transpires a series of origin stories to the phenomenon that we call projection. From Buddha to Melanie Klein, the ideology remains, human psychoanalysis creates and identifies the "reality" in three forms: mythical, archeological, and psychological .

Melanie Klein believed in the ability to project inner life onto external objects as a way for human development to overcome trauma imbedded in the stages of childhood, or "astral projection". This idea creates the hypothesis that within every being there is a certain light or innocence that we all carry, making projection an ideological action.

Buddhist believe that art was composed from reflection due to the projection of light; a story that highlights this is when Buddha asked a young painter named Bihar to paint himself. Bihar a mortal, could not look at the God due to how much light was radiating off , Bihar could not handle the gods direct light. Buddha then suggested that the artist used a waters reflection stating, "The World we see is but a reflection of a reality that escapes it's reflections". This story of Buddha and Bihar share a similar belief of projected light within an inner being.

This similar story also allows Pliny's origin story of the maiden of Corinth who drew the first portrait . She is nameless in the origin story, but it goes that on an evening her lover was to set out for a long perilous sea journey, to remember him, she reaches into the embers of a fire. There she grabs a charcoal stick and traces her lovers outline on the wall to record him one last time. Pliny's story implies the lovers innate death, but the moral of the story is that through lights absence ; shadow highlights the memory.

To finish my piece I write that all these stories have one meaning in common when it comes to projection and becoming. Sean Cubbitt states that the realm of the dead is the realm of absence, and therefore the realm of the silent, colorless line, or that art is the memento mori of the reality. Projection is one of the oldest tools for movement, the projection of fear, loss, sadness , happiness, etc... Projection allows pseudo realities to be translated into three dimensional and two dimensional realities that become perspective. Although within the projection we must ask what distortion is created and how it effects the visible ideology that inevitably will transpire to become an individuals becoming.

[bobgoesw00t]

Top 10 Video Games of All Time: bobgoesw00t Edition (Part 10)

Here we are everyone, the final week of 2022 and as promised, I'm revealing my Top Video Game of All Time. At Number One currently is:

The one game I can never seem to get enough of, Assassin's Creed Origins.

I can't even begin to guess how many times I've cleared this game and it's two DLC expansions, but it's AT LEAST ten times now. The extra year Ubisoft gave the team in Montreal to work on the game was TOTALLY worth it for how everything in the game has been fine tuned to ABSOLUTE PERFECTION.

Gonna start off by talking about the world of Ancient Egypt they created and how GORGEOUS it is. Even the deserts in the game are beautiful and I don't think I've even seen sand dunes created with so much care. Well, I'm running through Bayonetta 3 right now and I'm at the desert world and GOD the sand textures are horrible. And while there isn't any regions with snow, that doesn't matter because of how pretty every section of the game is.

Of course, the music and audio in a game can make or break it and I can safely saw that those two parts don't disappoint. The environmental sounds and the chatter of the crowds truly bring the world of Ancient Egypt to life. I love how the random civilians could be cussing me out and I would be none the wiser, while even the sounds of the birds chirping along the banks of the Nile can make me feel so at ease in a moment of respite. As for the soundtrack, Sarah Schachner hit the proverbial baseball out of the park with the music she composed for this game. Some tracks I want to mention in particular are A Divided Land which plays when you synchronize a viewpoint in some areas, I Walk on Your Water which is the investigation track and Winds of Cyrene, which is the last piece of music that plays while Syncing a Viewpoint in the Green Mountains, Kyrenaika and Marmarica. The last track I mentioned is not only GORGEOUS, but it also has this sense of uneasy calm, that fits perfectly with that point of the game cause Bayek's journey is coming to an end.

Since I mentioned Bayek, it's only fitting I talk a bit about the story, which is one of the best in the franchise yet IMO. Seeing how The Hidden Ones came to be all because of the loss of an innocent child at the hands of some greedy bastards that want to control the world is SO GOOD! Bayek starts his journey wanting revenge and in the process, discovers how fucked up things can get if those in power are left free to run amok with it. And since working within the system didn't work due to the people in power using the shadows, he decides to tackle it in the same way. But of course he couldn't do this alone, and on his quest for revenge, he finds those who share his passion and drive to protect the innocent and makes the brotherhood for them all. It's also sad because as he goes through the ranks of the Order of the Ancients (A.K.A. The Templars before the Templars) his marriage to his wife Aya (who, at the end of the game becomes the key figure in the lore of the franchise, Amunete) gets dragged through the mud as the world they live in will never accept that they truly love one another.

That brings me to by far, the best piece of music in the entire game: Ezio's Family (Origins Version). For those of you who don't know by now, Ezio's Family is a piece of music that was first introduced way back in Assassin's Creed II and has since basically become the "Theme Song" for the franchise, with almost every entry having a version of it. What makes this particular version so memorable is due to the fact that it literally doesn't play in full until THE VERY END OF THE GAME. You hear the first half of the song every time you bring up and equipment/quest/inventory/order menu in the game but it always cuts off before the rest of the song (and the familiar notes) start up. That fact that Sarah created a new version of the song and Ubisoft held it in their back pocket until the very end was the PERFECT way to not only end the game, but show how the Brotherhood started in the first place.

Gonna talk a bit about combat and the DLC a bit now and let me say, combat in Origins in some of the most intense and fun I've ever had in this series. The removal of the "Pair Animation" system with a traditional "Hit Box" combat scheme was the right call. While it's true Syndicate used a different style of combat from the previous games, it still used the old pair animation system, meaning it still felt a tad stale. Being able to dodge attacks at the last second to land the killing blow is awesome, and some of the Overpowered Attacks are brutal. Then you factor in the various passive skills you can unlock that can make combat/gameplay even better. Once you unlock the "Enhanced Predator Bow" skill, being able to pull off INSANE headshots on a target who is on the other side of a canyon by controlling the arrow mid-flight will never get old and not be satisfying.

While I'm thinking about it, I have to mention one of the main reasons this game has my top spot is because EVERY TIME I play it, I discover something new about it. Back in June when Ubisoft released the patch that lets the game run at 60FPS on Xbox Series X/S and PS5, I figured it was the perfect time to run through the game again and I figured out that if you throw either the Sleep or Poison Dart at an open flame, it will ignite the tip and spread the powder on the dart in an area. Now I know this was a thing back in Syndicate, but because it had been forever since I played that game in all of my other runs of Origins, I totally forgot that I could do that. When they put the patch out, I had recently finished a run of Syndicate so that fact was fresh in my mind and I had a little nerdgasm discovering they kept that in Origins.

As for the DLC Expansions, they took the base game, expanded it, and took the story to new places that are some of my favorite ever. The Curse of the Pharaohs one of the better DLC expansions I've ever played, letting Bayek travel to four different afterlifes with each one being different from the last was really cool and really helped expand on not only my knowledge of Ancient Egypt, but also the mythology of the era. The fact that they took the boss fight again Apep (which is one of the highlights of the base game to be honest) and made a whole DLC about it is just GAH, SO COOL!

In conclusion, Assassin's Creed Origins is one of the few video games that I've kept coming back to, LONG after I've beaten it MULTIPLE times not just because of the gameplay, story, music and phenomenal DLC expansions, but also because just when I think I've found everything there is to find in the world of Ancient Egypt, I discover something new that keeps the hooks this game has in my body digging deeper and pulling me back in to see what I can find next. And with Ubisoft having released a patch for the game back in June of this year that lets the game run at 60FPS on Xbox Series X/S and PlayStation 5, plus Assassin's Creed Mirage being a missing chapter in the evolution of The Hidden Ones to the Assassins Brotherhood coming sometime next year, there's never been a better time to give this game of pure perfection a try. Assassin's Creed Origins gets 5 Enhanced Predator Bow headshots out of 5: 5/5.

Quick note before I get to the last batch of Honorable Mentions, if you're starting the game and need any advice, feel free to hit me up with an ask or message and I'll try my best to help you out.

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Assassin's Creed IV Black Flag: Of the first six games in this long running franchise, Black Flag is by far the best with it's MASSIVE open world Caribbean, a lovable protagonist in Edward Kenway, Naval Combat that simplifies and expands on what was present in AC3 and one of the more bittersweet endings in the series.

Assassin's Creed Valhalla:The most recent entry melded the RPG elements from Odyssey with the gameplay of Origins in a perfect way, gave us the badass bitch that is Eivor Varinsdottir, had her meet with the original badass bitch (while also putting the final nail in the coffin on who the canon protagonist of Odyssey is) Kassandra in an awesome crossover, and a Final Chapter that while short, also tugs at the heart strings considering we've spent the last two years with this woman and almost left me balling my eyes out.

[fearsmagazine]

THE EXORCISM - Review

DISTRIBUTOR: Vertical

SYNOPSIS: In an attempt to revive his deteriorating acting career, Anthony Miller, a troubled actor grappling with inner demons, secures the lead role of a priest in a supernatural horror film involving an exorcism. However, what starts out as a promising opportunity soon takes a disturbing turn. The director, in his pursuit of authenticity, subjects Anthony to humiliating treatment, forcing him to confront suppressed traumas from his past. This relentless emotional torment prompts Anthony's estranged daughter, Lee, to seek help from the film's priest advisor, Father Conor. The question arises: is Anthony's suffering a result of his past addictions resurfacing, or has the intense pressure of the film unlocked a portal to something more malevolent.

REVIEW: Structured like a Shakespearian tragedy, the film THE EXORCISM incorporates a movie within a movie, and it's supernatural elements mirror the psychological trauma of the main character. Director and writer Joshua John Miller's haunted memories, particularly those related to his father Jason Miller's role as Father Karras in the classic 1973 film "The Exorcist," heavily influence the film's narrative.

Miller and co-writer, as well as life partner, M.A. Fortin, have crafted a film that intertwines the unsettling tales of the film The Exorcist's creation with the story of a troubled character, Anthony Miller. Anthony is still haunted by the loss of his wife and the dire choices that have alienated his daughter. "The Exorcist" lingers in the background, influencing the narrative but never overpowering it. Unlike many stories about possession and exorcism, this film focuses on the male character, Anthony. His trauma and addictions are portrayed in a way that preserves his humanity, avoiding the cliché of a horror film character. His daughter, Lee, is similarly complex, grappling with her own grief, anger toward her father, and the challenges of adolescence and adulthood. Lee is a wonderfully written character, possessing both innocence and strength. However, I found the character of Father Conor to be disappointing. While he clearly has his own demons, the allusions to his past are not fully developed, leaving his role in the film feeling underdeveloped.

Examining the original film, "The Exorcist," and comparing it to this film reveals striking similarities in the narrative tone. However, the final confrontation seems incongruous with the overall atmosphere of both films, here resembling a bombastic Hollywood blockbuster. This jarring departure from the film's prevailing tone is particularly noticeable when the film returns to its original tone in the prologue.

The film features impressive production values. It captures the essence of "The Exorcist" while maintaining its unique narrative. The subtle integration of technology, such as cameras, TVs, and phones, grounds the film in the present, while elements like locations, set design, and costumes hint at an earlier era. The framing, lighting, and editing contribute to a rich atmosphere that builds suspense and horror, leading to terrifying scenes that rely more on atmosphere than cheap jump scares. The cinematography lends a dark and fairy tale-like quality to the film, enhanced by a subdued color palette that persists throughout, visually indicating a sense of resolution but also hinting at the lingering presence of darkness and evil. Adding to the film's impact, Daniel Bensi and Saunder Jurriaans have composed a captivating score that serves as a vertical element, reflecting the characters' psychological states and intensifying the impact of the terrifying moments.

In "The Pope's Exorcist," released in 2023, Russell Crowe portrays Father Amorth, a character based on a real-life figure. Crowe's performance has its flaws, particularly in his portrayal of the character's Italian accent. Here, Crowe conveys a complex range of emotions, from his earnest longing for a relationship with his daughter to the torment he endures at the hands of the film's director, showcasing his Oscar-winning talent. His performance raises questions about whether the character's actions are due to possession or substance abuse, eliciting empathy and fear from the audience.

Ryan Simpkins also delivers a captivating performance as the character Lee. She seamlessly transitions between innocence and anger, effectively conveying the type of anger that stems from love and loss. Simpkins creates a powerful and memorable character that stays with the audience long after the film is over.

Actor David Hyde Pierce brings a genuine sense of humanity to the role of Father Conor. He portrays a good man who bears the scars of past battles. However, the character could have benefited from more development on the page to provide the audience with a deeper connection.

THE EXORCISM, a meticulously crafted film, pays homage to classic horror cinema by employing psychological elements to unsettle viewers and create a sense of unease. The director's personal connection to the subject matter is reminiscent of Hamlet grappling with his father's ghost, and the film-within-a-film serves as a means to capture and ultimately release his inner demons… or maybe not. While interpretations may vary, the film's unconventional use of characters and overall haunting quality remain captivating, transcending the conventions of mainstream Hollywood horror. The film's essence is encapsulated in Anthony Miller's final line, "It feels like grace," leaving viewers with a hopeful and powerful wish for the future, while acknowledging that darkness and evil persist in the world. Miller and Fortin's THE EXORCISM offers a sophisticated, nuanced and unsettling exploration of the human psyche and evil, leaving a lasting impact on the viewer.

CAST: Russell Crowe, Ryan Simpkins, Sam Worthington, Chloe Bailey, Adam Goldberg and David Hyde Pierce. CREW: Director/Screenplay - Joshua John Miller; Screenplay - M.A. Fortin; Producers - Kevin Williamson, Ben Fast, & Bill Block; Cinematographer - Simon Duggan; Score - Daniel Bensi & Saunder Jurriaans; Editor - Matthew Woolley; Production Designer - Michael T. Perry; Costume Designer - Jodi Leesley; Special Effects Makeup Designer - Adrien Morot; Special Effects Supervisor - Will Purcell; Visual Effects - Crafty Apes, LLC OFFICIAL: www.vert-ent.com/films/the-exorcism FACEBOOK: www.facebook.com/VertEnt/ TWITTER: x.com/theexorcismfilm TRAILER: https://youtu.be/MPmHAiX--Gg?si=uwwikOkQxipm8_iR RELEASE DATE: In theaters on June 7th, 2024

Listen to the Interview with Joshua John Miller & M. Fortin - HERE

**Until we can all head back into the theaters our “COVID Reel Value” will be similar to how you rate a film on digital platforms - 👍 (Like), 👌 (It’s just okay), or 👎 (Dislike)

Reviewed by Joseph B Mauceri