#what a time to be alive!! surrounded by art that sparks joy!!!

[mu-qingfang-stan-account]

ITS HERE... MY GOUACHE PAINTING FROM @itsc !! it has been rainy here on account of November and my mailbox is nooooot super waterproof so i have been checking the mail twice daily in a state of Frenzy and Worry but! it is sunny today! so the boys are HOME SAFE (and were packaged in a little plastic bag anyway, which i immediately tore into like a rabid squirrel). dunno yet where im going to hang it up so for now the frame is just sitting at my desk where i can gaze at Them on the daily <3

[jc-martin-og]

"Clover Dye"

A painter from the heart, that has dreams made out of peace. In a room full of cracked portraits as she paints with ease.

Yet his broken heart weighs heavy and the smiles she paints are multi-layered.

All she has left on her shelf are nothing but paintings in blue. From what was once a great collection levelling in green.

.

She paints her inner sadness, deep within. Even if they called her deranged, as it’s the only way to make happiness she'll win.

As the art that she creates pulls her through, none could explain her change.

Joy was seen upon his face, even when her mind was so wronged and without a place. Beauty and chaos, abstract strokes forlorn.

.

She's made of steel, fiery and brave, the brush strokes that she uses soothe her pain.

Smiling she’s known the world where she lives; all in grey, yellow, and red. To keep the demons at bay; alive, strong, but free of dread.

With brush in hand, she takes up the challenge. Art releases all that she is feeling, though with her life, she knows the balance.

.

But deep down, she knew her time would come, as her weary heart broke itself once again. For years she toils with fervour and fire, colours that blaze and sparks that fly.

But fate has dealt her a dire, dire desire. For her life to end with a gentle, calming sigh. Upon her canvases appear brilliant dyes.

A passion stoked as her last goodbyes, for a life's art-work splendid, unforgettable, and mourned.

.

To her last destination, she proceeds to move forward. The time she’ll spent there will be all but a wish.

She explores against the streams of fate. Eventually, she'll take her leave and take flight.

To a location on the horizon, so bright, that’ll look out of a dream. Within a field of clover green, the painter stood in awe from what she sees. Bathed in sunlight all around, each petal shone so bright and sound.

.

Searching for her muse, discovered beauty she could not refuse.

A work of art made to last eternally in the canvas’s frame of her mind.

Enraptured by its serene sight, only the painter found perfection in its light.

.

The painter lay leased in a cloverfield, gazing up at the distant sky and smiling with joy. A life of beauty and colour, so avidly pursued.

Led her to this moment of peaceful, contented repose. She felt blessed; surrounded by nature at its finest. Taking her last breath with joy, as her hearth casts its last beat.

For she knows she found her perfect place. In a painting that rests in the heart of the field where she may rest as well.

.

All of her love for life and the beauty in this world, had culminated in one single glow.

Yet in her demise the clover bloomed, in a field so beautiful that zoomed.

The sadness erased, gone in a jiff. As in death she found her perfect bliss.

Original date of publication: 17/03/2023

Made using MediBang

[wander-whimsy]

Hi birthday boy,

As another year rolls around, I find myself reflecting on what it truly means to celebrate this day—not just as a marker of time but as an opportunity for growth and self-love. The biggest act of self-love is to live for myself, not for the expectations of others.

In the hustle of life, it’s easy to forget what we genuinely desire. We often prioritize what others think, what they want us to do, or how they believe we should celebrate. But this year, I want to break free from those expectations. It’s time to embrace the joy of living authentically.

I’ve always dreamed of attending that art class, the one I’ve postponed because I worried it wouldn’t be worth it or that I’d look silly. But what if it’s precisely that experience that sparks my creativity? I’m ready to immerse myself in new experiences, even if it means going alone.

Listening to my favorite song on repeat? Absolutely. There’s something profoundly healing about surrendering to music that resonates with my soul. I’ll revel in the lyrics and melodies that lift me, allowing myself to be fully present in those moments.

And that movie I’ve been dying to see? It’s time to buy that ticket. I don’t need someone else’s company to enjoy a story that moves me. The thrill of popcorn and a big screen can be my own indulgence, a gift I give to myself.

Going to concerts has always ignited a spark in me, too. The energy of live music, the feeling of being surrounded by people who share my passion—it’s electric. This year, I’ll seek out those shows that make my heart race and dance like no one’s watching. I’ll let the music wash over me, connecting deeply with the moment.

Let’s not forget the places I’ve dreamt of visiting. Traveling doesn’t have to mean sharing it with others. Exploring new landscapes and cultures, tasting different foods, and experiencing the world on my own terms can be liberating. It’s about stepping out of my comfort zone and into a life that feels vibrant and alive.

To detach from the expectations of others, I must first embrace my own desires. I’ll remind myself that it’s okay to say no to plans that don’t serve me, to choose solitude over obligation, and to prioritize what truly makes my heart race. By recognizing that my happiness doesn’t hinge on others’ approval, I reclaim my power.

So here’s to living truly, to diving into experiences that resonate with my spirit, and to celebrating this birthday as a commitment to myself. May this year be filled with moments of joy, creativity, and adventure—done freely and unapologetically.

With love and excitement,

John Rick

[eight-house]

The Moon Signs in Bed

MOON IN ARIES

Aries’ passion is immediate; love and desire do not build up gradually, but begin  full force and proceed with high intensity. In the bed- room, you enjoy taking the lead, and go after what you want with intensity and determination. Between the sheets you’re a fiery lover—easily aroused, with physical desires that urgently demand satisfaction. You have a strong appetite for anything new and innovative, and a talent for keeping the spirit of your love alive and thriving. You’re open to trying anything that is fun and adventurous—at least once. Although your sexual needs are high, intimate involvement with one person may become a source of conflict, because you require a great deal of personal freedom. It’s often easier for you to commit yourself physically than emotionally, so you deflect what you’re feeling into your sexuality. Then you deal with your emotions on that level, instead of confronting them directly. For you, a successful permanent relationship needs to be based in friendship as well as in love and romance.  

MOON IN TAURUS

Your needs and desires are simple and of a practical, physical nature. Highly physical, your enjoyment of lovemaking is direct and unabashed and all types of physical contact appeal to your strongly sensuous nature. While you have no trouble drawing your lover to you, you actually enjoy being seduced. Initially shy, you  become a sexual dynamo once aroused. For Taurus the neck is a major erogenous zone, and you welcome slow, sliding kisses along your neck as a prelude to love- making. Your personal recipe for love consists of equal parts passion and romance. However, while romantic, you don’t overlook the realities of life. No matter how passionate, hasty couplings in bleak, uncomfortable places hold little appeal for you. The bed partner who sets the scene with candles, music, and flowers, and plies you with delectable goodies such as exotic fruits, chocolates, and fine wines truly knows the surest way to your heart.

MOON IN GEMINI

More mental than emotional or physical, your major erotic zone is between your ears. You get off on fantasizing and talking about sex. Your aversion to boredom makes witty banter and subtle promises of previously untried bedroom techniques the ideal come-on from a prospective lover. You expect sex to be fun and prefer making love in unusual places. Risk provides an added thrill, and the possibility of getting caught in the act fuels your erotic imaginings. Even at home, you dislike having your lovemaking confined to the bedroom. Variety and change stimulate your desires, and you’re willing to try anything new or different. Since you love gadgets, sex toys and devices are a welcome addition to your erotic activities.

MOON IN CANCER 

In an intimate union, the intensity of your sexuality is directly connected to the depth of your feeling for your companion. The act of love can carry you to incredible heights or leave you feeling deflated and let down. Sex for its own sake is just not your style. In the bedroom, your approach is romantic, sensual, tender, and always considerate of your lover’s wishes. You long to be courted and love to kiss and cuddle between the sheets. In intimate moments, you’re shy and sensitive, but in your dreams, you’re bold, imaginative, and audacious enough to take risks that you hesitate to pursue in reality. Your ideal bed partner coaxes you out of your shell, and gets you to reveal your most erotic imaginings. When acting out your secret fantasies, you engage your entire being in an exotic game of joyful seduction.

MOON IN LEO

Love is your ultimate aphrodisiac, and your idea of the perfect turn-on includes tons of affection and admiration. As a lover, you’re not a big fan of subtlety and believe that actions really do speak louder than words. While aggressive and dramatic in the bedroom, you’re never crude or boorish. Your sunny, romantic idealism permeates your lovemaking just as it lights up every other area of your life. Physical intimacy makes you feel alive and fulfilled, and your sexual prowess and ability to please your lover are exceedingly important to you. Because your plea- sure-seeking instincts are strong, you’re eager to experience all the joys lovemaking has to offer. Your sex drive is greatly enhanced by the comfortable accoutrements of the good life, and you get off on being pampered and wooed luxuriously, as befits your regal, leonine status.

MOON IN VIRGO

Because of its introverted aspect, Virgo is not a very sexual position for the Moon. Even when your deepest feelings are engaged, your shyness makes it hard for you to be demonstrative. You want a close union based on mutual respect and affection, and appreciate the refined elegance of beautiful, tasteful surroundings. Getting physical with your lover allows you to relax and forget about mundane worries. Since pleasing your mate is foremost in your mind, once you feel comfortable with your bedmate you make an amazingly skilled, generous bed partner. When you find a new way to gratify your lover, you hone the technique until it approaches perfection. While not the most exciting lover, you’re definitely one of the most considerate and obliging. Moreover, like a fine wine, your sensuality becomes richer with age and experience

MOON IN LIBRA 

Your approach to lovemaking is glamorous and alluring. You appreciate the intri- cate rituals of old-fashioned courtship, and enjoy being wooed with finesse and sophistication. Sex and romance are intertwined in your mind, and you prefer artful seduction to a carnal free-for-all. Your erotic sensuality emerges most readily in a sumptuous setting that engages all the senses. Luxurious bedding, sultry nightwear, soft music, flickering candles, and fresh flowers add the requisite spice to your lovemaking. A special night dedicated to love, in a romantic setting with moonlight and whispered words of adoration, serves as a genuine turn-on and affectionate gestures and loving words draw out your passions and get your sexual juices flowing.

MOON IN SCORPIO

Imbued with a smoldering sexuality, when you turn on your sultry charm, few can resist you and, once you get going beneath the covers, you have tremendous staying power. Your passionate lovemaking requires a dynamic bed partner with physical stamina equal to your own. Your innate fascination with sexuality inspires numerous fantasies of erotic seduction. Acting out these scenarios with your mate provides an outlet for your active imagination in addition to being a guaranteed turn-on. An extremist, you equate sex with power and control, making you a de- manding, but wickedly delightful lover. You intuit your partner’s secret desires— and make them come true. Sharing your lusty thoughts with your beloved serves as tantalizing foreplay for steamy nights of intense lovemaking.

MOON IN SAGITTARIUS

Your sex drive is strong, but erratic. At times, your bedroom style can be wildly experimental, and you’re always eager to explore new ways of expanding your sen- sual horizons. Physical attraction sparks your interest initially, but it takes intel- lectual stimulation to hold it indefinitely. Spontaneity, fun, excitement, and adventure turn you on and matter more to you than grand passion. A short getaway is relaxing, and camping, hiking, and making love under the stars reinvigorates you. Your natural exuberance, candor, and lack of guile in the bedroom allow you to express your sexual desires openly. More interested in action than fantasy, having sex in different locations—at home and otherwise— is a real turn-on for you. Why be restricted to the bedroom when there are so many other appealing places to make love?

MOON IN CAPRICORN

When aroused the strongly sexed lunar goat is capable of intense and sustained ardor. Where lovemaking is concerned, you like to take it slow and get it right and you work at love with the same diligence and dedication that you apply to other areas of your life. Your style of lovemaking, while respectful and refined, tends to be no-nonsense and you consider coquettish games a waste of time. Nevertheless, whatever you lack in the romance department, you more than make up for in skill and sexual prowess. Despite your down-to-earth attitude toward sexuality, you can be vamped and seduced. Your ideal lover knows how to lure the horny goat out of hiding by creating an atmosphere of sensuality where you can relax and give full rein to your many erotic desires. 

MOON IN  AQUARIUS

In the bedroom, you’re daring and unconventional. A genuine nonconformist, you’re sexually uninhibited and predisposed to experimentation; if something sounds fun, you’re willing to give it a go. You exude a sex appeal that positively crackles with electricity, and you believe that nothing is too far out as long as it pleases both partners. However, no matter how much you enjoy making love, you always keep your wits about you and never allow yourself to be totally swept away by passion. Lovemaking has little meaning for you unless it truly engages your mind along with your body, and you respond as readily to verbal suggestion as to physical stimulation.

MOON IN PISCES

For the fish, love and sex are irrevocably intertwined, and nothing gets your attention faster than an old-fashioned romantic courtship. You want a lover who quotes poetry, scatters rose petals, and makes all-consuming love by candlelight. In turn, you enchant your lover through subtle seduction, and your unpredictable nature makes you endlessly fascinating. In bed, your aura of vulnerability brings out your partner’s protective instincts. Although you love to kiss and cuddle, the physical side of sex matters less to you than an emotional connection with your lover. Even so, you’re no slouch between the sheets. Prepared to give your all, you readily set your own needs and desires aside in order to satisfy those of your bed- mate

[julibellule]

Evening Lights

Read on my AO3

Relationship : Tenth Doctor x Rose Tyler

Summary : Telepathy can be a hard thing to adjust to when you are a human novice. When the Doctor and Rose embark on a tour bus to visit a waterfall made of sapphires, her new heightened senses will be put to the test - Midnight rewrite

Rated : General

Chapter : 03/??

Words : 1498

From the story: A Midnight’s Interlude

Author’s notes : A deep journey into the spiritual symbolic of the episode. My own take on telepathy, the universe, and our true design within the cloth of life.

—————————

Read chap.02 - Midnight (K)

The next moments went by without Rose noticing. She let herself be guided by the Doctor’s long strides and soft pulls on her arm. Drifting into her thoughts, she couldn’t grasp the subtleties behind what had just happened. What she’d seen and felt… this was a lot more than telepathy. It had nothing to do with reading someone’s thoughts or feeling someone's emotions. She just experienced the very fabric of the universe coming alive.

Rose vaguely remembered experiencing something like this once: A long forgotten memory from a few years ago, when she shared her soul with the heart of the Tardis. A moment suspended in Time, a Time where everything was related and everything had its purpose.

The Doctor had explained what happened after she absorbed the Time Vortex. How she became one with the web of the universe and have been able to pull on strings, project her intentions and change the matrix of it all to her own whims. Was this what was happening right now? Some kind of relapse from what the Doctor called the Bad Wolf?

“Rose,” the Time Lord was looking down at her with a warm smile, “you seemed far far away from my present.”

Rose frowned. They stopped walking and he was now watching her with expectant eyes. She brushed a lock of hair from her cheek with the back of her hand, forcing herself to come back to the here and now. “Your present?”

The Doctor chuckled, nodding his head toward their destination and Rose smiled when she saw what he had planned for her.

Two valets were opening two huge white doors, while another one walked towards them. "I am sorry. The sun is almost set." The man apologized. Rose's eyes went big as she took in the view behind the now open doors. 

Rainbows, everywhere. A hallway of light and majestic colors, shimmering and inviting. She couldn't help it, taking a few steps inside, totally missing the conversation between the butler and the Doctor. This trip was full of wonders. 

She understood right away that this was a tunnel, carved inside the diamond crust of the planet, and the angle of the sun's rays were playing with the surface, refracting rainbows of light inside. With every step she took there was a different color beaming in her eyes.

Rose was watching her hands, now blue and green, when the Doctor caught up, all smiles and excitement. She laughed with him, a spark of joy bubbling through her being, and she knew this wave of happiness was coming from him. 

He was bouncing on the sole of his shoes, hands in his pockets, face yellow and orange with the lights. The boundless delight he was feeling at Rose's awe reverberated off him like the rays of colors surrounding them. 

She approached the wall to lay her hands on the cold stone's surface. Her fingers followed the patterns and ridges. "The walls were carefully carved that way to capture the light at a certain angle. This whole cavern is a work of art and ingenuity."

"How did this happen, though?" Rose lifted inquisitive eyes to his face. He was so close as he laid his right hand on the wall next to hers. "A whole planet made of diamond.. Diamonds in space.." she whispered in awe.

The Doctor laughed softly. "It's not such a rare occurrence, Rose. There are a lot of diamonds in space. Carbon is one of the five elements easiest to find in most galaxies. Put some pressure on it and you have diamonds. It is well known that it rains diamonds on Jupiter and Saturn."

"Don't think she would've survived it." He smiled at Rose's pout and decided to change the subject. "The diamond on Midnight has a bluish tint because of the strong emission of boron from the X-tonic rays of this sun." The Doctor started to explain with a twinkle in his eye. "On earth, the tint of diamonds are more of a yellowish-brown. I’d really like to visit the sapphire waterfalls while we are here." He winked at her and his excitement made her giggle. "That’s how it’s called, even though they are not really sapphires, more like dark blue diamonds. They are made of compressed carbon, not of a crystalline form of aluminum oxide like real sapphires."

"Really?" Rose followed the Doctor as he pushed himself off the wall and continued their walk through the tunnel. Rose was wondering where their walk was leading them. "I didn't know that. Mom would've loved to see diamonds fall on Jupiter!"

They walked through the tunnel of thousand colors for a minute or two before Rose could see an opening in front of her. The tunnel changed into a cavern a few feet away. She felt giddy and almost squealed, impatient to see what the Doctor had in store for her. But she calmed down a bit, not wanting to interrupt the Time Lord's rambling. He was so excited to teach her the science behind rocks formation and she felt a bit guilty that she'd lost track of what he was saying.

"Diamonds are so hard because of the covalent chemical bond between the molecules. That's when the atoms are so compressed together that they end up sharing their electrons. Makes it hard to break them up." There was a slight hesitation and Rose felt a slow rush of uncertainty coming from him as he continued. This sounded important. "It can also be called a.. a sigma bond.. one of the strongest bonds for diatomic molecules."

Rose stopped in her tracks, which pulled on her joined hands and made him stop as well. His eyes were wide with emotions as she made him look at her. 

"Sigma." She asked numbly, suddenly understanding what he was trying to tell her. A sigma bond.. one of the strongest bonds.. "Wasn't that your nickname at the Academy?" She shot him a tongue touched smile to try and lift the intensity in his gaze. It didn't work.

Rose and the Doctor jumped at the Maître D clearing his throat beside them. "I'm sorry sir," he said at the Doctor before turning towards Rose, "Madam. You must be the Doctor and Rose." He was looking at his clipboard but Rose couldn't take her eyes off her bondmate. She could still feel the roll of emotions rushing to her, a kaleidoscope of sacred feelings pulling her to him as if they were caught in a nexus of their own. 

He didn't answer, just pursed his lips, clearly trying to reign in all the love he felt for her, all the desperation at the fear of losing her someday. A bond between the molecules.. Makes it hard to break them up.. Was this why he brought her here, on their first trip after their bonding. A wonderful analogy between the atoms of this planet and the link in their mind, the tied vibrations of their souls.

She wasn't ready to let go of it yet. But the Time Lord turned toward the short man, taking a deep breath and roughly scratched the back of his head with his free hand. The moment was broken, leaving Rose slightly panting and the sound of heart beating in her ears. She wondered if she'd ever get used to the hypnotic pull their bond could have on her.

"Yes, that's us, the Doctor and Rose." The Doctor said in a sigh.

The Maître D nodded and started walking them towards their table. That's when Rose realized that the diamond cavern was actually a restaurant. "I am sorry that you arrived so late. You missed the evening show. The sun is completely set now." He explained.

Rose looked towards the tunnel they came from and all the rainbows were gone, the artificial light now coming from alcoves in the stone. That's when she understood that the whole cavern/restaurant must be the same as the tunnel was when the sun hit the right angle. She was a bit sad that she missed the experience of eating surrounded by such lights.

The sadness faded away quickly though when the Doctor smiled at her, pulling a chair out from under their table so she could sit and landing a soft kiss between her left cheek and her ear as she sat down.

Next chapter coming up soon!

[chaosciara]

where the arch meets

I have not read King of Scars so I do not know anything about the plot therefore some information about Nikolai could be outdated. This is also the first time I've ever written for this fandom so hopefully I did the characters justice. My friend and I watched S&B and were talking about ships and I said I wanted to see Kaz and Nikolai together which then prompted whatever the hell happened here, please enjoy!

CW: mentions of blood, mentions of gambling

There are no spoilers for the S&B show

masterlist; my links

[image has alt text]

Kaz stares out the window, a glum look on his usually stoic face. Ketterdam was alive, unusual joy spinning itself in the streets as the city busies itself for the arrival of the one and only King Nikolai Lantsov. The festivities of the "Peacekeeper" as he had been so lovingly named, had started three long days ago. Every day that Kaz wakes up to popping streamers, and the litany of ballads associated with the King's ever growing list accomplishments, is a day his stolen peace gets ripped from beneath him. He's not even sure why the King is so popular. He can't say he was anywhere near impressed enough at their brief meeting to warrant the five different ballads about those hazel eyes alone. Kaz looks down at the papers littering his desk, crow club books and bank statements for his various 'assets', communications between the various councils in Ravka and Ketterdam, and the most recent letter from Inej, smelling of the sea.

Their friendship is something of a mystery to the world but between them she is the rock that kept him steady. Even now, with her sailing the high seas content to her freedom, he can feel the unwavering quiet of her. Briefly, he wishes she were here. She would make him laugh, tell him to stop being so glum about the brown-eyed, blonde haired king if he insisted on doing nothing about it. He wouldn't let his amusement at her teasing show, but later in the safety of his room, this room, he'd let a rare smile show. He misses their quiet friendship most of all. But she is happy on her ship with her crew and he has shit to do. He always has shit to do.

The thought, stark and unwelcome, snaps him back to the present. A scowl replaces his faraway look as he shuts the window to the new round of baudy tunes drifting up and straight into the headache knocking at his skull. He sits back down harder than he intended, and winces at the pain that lances down his back and into his leg. He can hear Nina, chastising him for not putting on the salve, for not resting. But he doesn't have the time. He can't do something as normal as rest. He has a city to run. Or at least the underbelly of a city to run.

The statements stare at him but the numbers swirl like melting ice-cream in a bowl, and he wants to throw the pages in the fire in frustration. But he has never acted on emotion, and he will not start now. So he pushes away from his desk, cane already cool under his fingertips, and makes his way to the floors of the crow club.

The passage muffles the sounds of chips cluttering on a table, and glasses set down hard on the wood, and shouting when someone wins, loses, almost gets decked for supposed cheating. But as soon as he steps past the doors, nodding at the two guards he'd posted at this entrance, all of that chaos surrounds him. There is no hush as he steps into the room, no blanket of fear or anger or anything. They don't even know he is there. They won't until he makes himself known. Spending years with his Wraith had taught him some things, even with the click of his cane. He looks to the corner expecting to spot Jesper; his heart, as it had done every day since they had all parted ways, clenched upon seeing the empty space where his sharpshooter was supposed to be. The disappointment doesn't stop his eyes from travelling to the table closest to the kitchens— or as the Nina lovingly called it, the muck hut— where Wylan was usually hunched over notebooks or losing to just about everyone, except maybe Inej, in a game of cards.

He misses them. He'd never tell them, would never let it so much as flash across his face, but he couldn't stop his heart from the same onslaught. He felt it every day. Every time he looked to his window and Inej wasn't perched atop it. Every time he walked to the gambling tables and Jesper wasn't leaning over it, brown eyes shining with hope. Every time he wandered the corridors of the club hearing Wylan's flute. When he decides to put salve on it's because he hears Nina's voice, sees her frown, as she tries so hard to heal them. He even misses Matthias but that is a road he doesn't allow himself to go down. A failure he cannot yet acknowledge. His trip down memory lane ends abruptly when a man with a hood over his eyes, shadowing his face, steps up to him.

"You Kaz, Kaz Brekker?" The voice is rough, almost too rough, but the lilting accent is familiar. Before he can place it the man is talking again.

"I want to speak with you, about a deal."

Kaz tilts his head, resting gloved hands on his cane as he takes the figure in. "Liar."

The man sputters jerking back, and just briefly he catches a glimpse of golden skin and something shiny pinned to his coat. "It's urgent!" The man's voice is not so rough, and that accent, charming in a way, bleeds through more and more.

"I'm not available for deals." It is not true, but he wants to see how they'll react, what they're capable of if he says no.

"You'll like this one." The roughness has been replaced by arrogance. And the world opens wide for Kaz.

"Come," He turns, already limping towards the doors and his rooms beyond. "Don't say anything until we're behind closed doors"

It takes them exactly one minute and twelve seconds to get to his study. As soon as he hears the door click behind him, he lifts his cane and with brutal precision he rips through the clasp at the man's chest and watches the coat land in a heap on his wooden floor. Letting the crows head of his cane fall back into his hand he finally looks up. "What are you doing here King?" The question holds more exhaustion than he's willing to admit.

"What?" The King of Ravka grins, beautiful and bright and full of arrogance, "You aren't happy to see me?"

And Kaz wants to tell him no and piss off and leave me alone, but his heart is pounding and there is blood rushing between his ears and he doesn't really remember what breathing does, how it works. Because this is the first time he's ever seen Nikolai. When they met all those years ago he was Sturmhond, the privateer. Since then Kaz has only seen posters, and art. But none of them, not a single one, has ever done the king justice. He is........ he is magic.

"Oh come on," The blonde is laughing. It sounds like water. It sounds like peace. "You can't expect me to act like a stranger after all the letters we've sent." Yes, the letters. The updates King Nikolai had requested about Ketterdam, about the barrel, about the illegal smuggling of grisha to work as slaves. Those letters. "What?" The King looks at him speculatively, amusement sparking in his hazel eyes— they suit him so much better than the green of Sturmhond. "Volcra got your tongue?"

“Didn't know you would be in town," Kaz manages to grind out. He hopes it sounds like irritation and not infatuation.

"The six million posters and seven ballads about my adventures aboard the Kingfisher were not notice enough?" That grin is back. It is ruining him. "Oh dear, next time I'll be sure to add floating parades to the mix."

"That's tomorrow." He glowers. He doesn't think the blonde could get anymore insufferable. He is wrong.

"Do you have plans to attend then?"

He ignores the question, the tease. "What are you doing here Lantsov?"

"I'm here for the festival Mr, Brekker."

"I mean here." He motions to the room, to him. "What are you doing in the Barrel, in my club—" He wants to say 'in my room'. He catches himself.

"I came," Nikolai steps a little closer. There's still do much distance between them, practically an ocean, but Kaz can feel the tension wrapping around his lungs. He wants out. He wants closer. He wants, he wants, he wants....... "To visit a friend Mr Brekker. I don't exchange letters detailing my failed attempt at diving through the sky with just anyone." Oh saints he's going to die. He's never going to survive this. His face is a brick wall, a crack where his frown breaks through.

"You are a busy man King, busier even, than i am." He wants to applaud himself for the steadiness of his voice. "I doubt that you had time to just pop by. So what do you want, Nikolai?"

There is a flash of something in those beautiful eyes, and he wants to chase it to the ends of the earth. "Must we always have an ulterior motive?" The voice is quiet, but it is filled with curiosity and emotions Kaz doesn't have the ability to unpack. "Is it not good enough that I wanted to see you Kaz."

The Underboss of Ketterdam becomes a rain, becomes wind, and earth, and gold. He sits down on his desk, uninterested in the groan of the wood as it tries to carry his weight. Nikolai looks at him, soft and open, all that charm hidden- packed away for a moment far removed from this one. Somehow the distance has shrunk between them until there is only two steps, maybe three before their bodies can collide. He knows Nikolai would not come closer, but some part of him wants the king to try. Wants to see what would happen. He shoves that part so far down it got to hell before him.

"Say something," The blonde whispers.

"How long till they realize you've snuck off?" The bark of laughter that escapes the king is like jurda straight into his bloodstream.

"We have an hour tops."

"Let's go." He throws a new hood, midnight blue and embellished with golden thread, at him. It's his own. He doesn't have time to find another. Nikolai puts it on, fastening the small gold clasp at his front, and Kaz has to remind himself to breathe when he sees how beautiful those colours are against that golden skin. It looks a thousand times better on Nikolai than it ever had in him.

"Where are we off to then?" The blonde asks, his familiar charm steady through his features once more. "You're not intending to kidnap me and sell me to the highest bidder are you?" Before he can even start to ignore the question Nikolai is carrying on. "I have to tell you I won't make a very high bid. I seem to have botched myself a little when I turned into one of the Darkling's little pets. I think my di—"

"Shut up will you," He snaps, black eyes scanning the club as they walk through it.

"A little tense Mr Brekker," He can hear the grin. He doesn't know whether he wants to slap it or stare at it. He keeps walking.

They're outside and it's just started to drizzle and he has the brief thought that maybe he shouldn't be making the king of Ravka gallivant in the rain. But then he catches a glimpse of Nikolai's expression, full of wonder and glinting with excitement and he can't turn back even if he wants to.

"Kaz," Saints he loves the way the blonde says his name. "I really think it's better if I know where we're going, sake of safety and all that."

"We're going to the docks."

"You're not intending to drown me, are you?" There is no concern hidden behind the question, only delighted amusement.

"If I had intended to be rid of you Nikolai," Kaz turns his head, stares at the man, "I would have done it the second you walked into my club."

"Even though you didn't know it was me?"

It's his turn to smirk, and he revels in it. "I know everyone that comes into my club, King." The title reverberates in his throat. He catches the flash in the royal's eye.

"Why are you taking us to the docks?"

"I want to show you something, privateer." The strangled noise he hears in answer makes him force down the smile threatening to erupt.

The rain is at that awkward stage where it's more than a drizzle but less than a downpour. The kind that seeps into your clothes, makes your bones wet before you can even feel it on your skin. But they're almost there, he can see their destination clear in front of him. They are quiet, a rare thing for Nikolai he thinks, as they walk. Every now and then he glances to his companion who is always staring at the world in wonder. Like every corner produces a new kind of thrill. Like he'll be able to collect them all and bottle them for his journey home.

"Why are you staring at my pretty face?" The subject of his hidden amazement asks. "You've never been one to appreciate beauty Mr Brekker. If you did you'd have commented on my lovely violet wax seals at least once." He fights the urge to roll his eyes at that. The wax seals were the least interesting thing about the letters. He usually ripped them open like a mad man, clawing for the content inside and reading it as if it were going to disappear before he could get to the, 'fondly, Nikolai Lantsov' at the end.

"I have more interest in the contents inside."

At that the King does roll his eyes, "Oh yes, the ever so interesting reports about dock lookouts and safe grisha arrivals."

"It's my business."

"Mhm" Is all the blonde has to say.

They step onto the docks, and the tap of his cane, louder, more prominent on the wood, rings slightly in his ears. It's a comforting sound. One he has come to rely on to keep him steady. Especially when there's a king walking in stride with him, a king who kind of looks like the sun just before it disappears over the horizon. A king who scents his letters with lavender because he wants people to know calmness. A king who has never touched him but always stands close enough that he can feel the heat of him.

He recognizes the marker that tells him they're in the right place and then he motions for Nikolai to stay behind him. "Its small so we'll have to be close together." He says quietly.

"Are you okay with that?" The question is so gentle, so full of worry it almost buckles his knees.

"I'll manage."

"Kaz," He sounds hesitant, he sounds worried. "You don't have to force yourself to do something for me."

"I'm not, now come on before it disappears." And then they're stepping into an alcove only slightly bigger than a coffin and they're so close and there's so little air. But still Nikolai is not touching him and the leather of Kaz's gloves is warm against his skin. There is no part if him exposed to the elements, except his face. He takes one breath, takes two. The king is looking at him with concern, it is swimming in his features.

"Look up." Together they tilt their heads, and as the weak sunlight, bogged by rain, sinks to the floor the gems buried in the stones of the roof above them come ablaze. Crimson reds, and sapphire blues, and forest greens, and golden yellows. The light fractures and morphs and dances around them, like coloured stars.

He had discovered this wonder in a burning rage, trailing blood down the docks. He'd beaten up a man who betrayed their gang- dirty work for the boss- but half way down the docks he'd thought he was being followed and he slipped into this little alcove. He comes back every chance he gets.

"This is—" For once King Nikolai Lantsov is speechless. "How did you even find such a thing?" The hood had fallen off his head when he looked up so every angle of his face is on sharp display. The miserable lighting only made him more golden as if he was defying the weather simply by existing. And the gemstones reflected in his eyes, turning them every shade of rare rainbow. One of three Kaz had ever seen in Ketterdam.

He just raises a brow. "We should be getting back, I'm sure they've already sounded the alarm."

The blonde snorts, "They're used to it by now."

"Oh you sneak off to visit all your friends?" They step out carefully, making sure not to disturb the structure or get caught in the act.

"Feeling less special?"

"Wondering if maybe you should pay your guards more."

They bicker all the way back, about everything, trading wit and meaningless insults in equal measure. Kaz insists on dropping Nikolai off at his lodgings and Nikolai insists he doesn't have to despite leading them towards the building he's staying in. When they finally arrive, it is with a sense of longing for more that settles between them. More time, more laughter, more traded quips, just more.

"Goodbye Mr Brekker." The King bows his head.

"Nikolai." He nods.

"Come visit me in Ravka soon." It's the line he prints in every letter, no matter how far apart their replies are, or how many other things they have going on. Kaz never acknowledges it. He won't put that kind of hope into them. He must stay here. He must work.

But today, with happiness bubbling under his skin, he cant help but let loose a small smile and a dangerous promise. "I'll try."

And fading under the bustle of people is a small golden plaque on the floor of the alcove. "To those we love, and love unconditionally." A bigger promise, one that has lasted through time itself.

"That's all we can do Kaz," Nikolai smiles. "We try."

[starfighter10]

tlou2 opinion

So I really had to share my opinion(rant) on the last of us part 2 and boy I have a lot to say. I am gonna dwell deep into this one, so bear with me if you can and want to

 But before that I have to share the feelings I hold for tlou1.Back when I finished tlou1, I knew I experienced something truly magical. I was pleasantly surprised by the beautifully crafted story, the execution of the characters, the music, the gameplay , and the effort that went into shaping the journey of the game,the character arcs and bonds. You could see and experience the uniqueness and passion that went into the first project. This game immediately became a favourite of mine.

When tlou2 was announced, my expectations were skyhigh,was elated to continue Joel and Ellie's journey and how it unfolds. The bar set by the first one was exceptionally high and probably impossible to achieve, but I had trust and faith in naughty dog, thought they couldn't go wrong with this one. After experiencing tlou2 , I am speechless.... not in a good way. I have no words to express my disappointment,frustration and anger I feel right now. I don't even know where to begin.... the absolute mess of a plot, the original characters being blatantly ignored, retconned and disrespected in favour of new bland characters, the plotholes in the story, the false advertising and marketing, naughty dog's hubris, making a complete mockery of your fans who are paying money to play something but getting baited for something else. I am utterly heartbroken and angry.

The plot - the driving force of the game is over ambitious, lazy,sloppy and nihilistic. It felt forced. Naughty dog bit off more then they could chew with this one. Tlou2 could have gone several ways in terms of plot with the existing characters, yet we get the cliche revenge plotline with the character abandoning the quest altogether to realise revenge isn't the answer. This trope has been done several times before, with more finesse and better execution. The writers aim for the " Ellie breaks the cycle of the revenge" but it really fails to achieve this as she blatanly annihilates several characters,npcs along the way in quest of her revenge. The damage has been done practically speaking. According to naughty dog's logic , I should expect Nora's sister or a random npc's friend/relatives in tlou3 hunting down Ellie in their revenge quest. Also Abby's quest literally does nothing for me. This character was so poorly written, executed and shoved down our throats, I didn't have any sort of attachment or empathy for her. I simply don't care about this character.

The circumstances that lead to Joel's death was out of character as well. Since the trailer drop in 2016, I was prepared for his inevitable death. Thought he would probably go out like the badass he is, maybe sacrificing himself for Ellie/tommy. The Joel I know from tlou1, a hardened survivor who has fought tooth and nail to survive the past 20 years would NEVER end up in a situation like that. Joel was intensely alert, critical,clever and intuitive. The argument here may be that he has softened in Jackson, but I feel at this point this should be 2nd nature to him. Something that is automatic. Yet the writer's now want you to believe he is a dumbass who would trust a group of strangers, make small talk and introductions and end up in a situation like that. One of the bigger issues was the constant reinforcing that Joel wiped down the fireflies in cold blood and doomed humanity for death by robbing them of their cure for survival,Ellie believing the cure would have been a guaranteed sure shot success ..... WHY? This retcons the first one completely. The beauty of the tlou1 was it's moral ambiguity and uncertainty. We were constantly hinted that fireflies is a mess of a group whose agendas weren't clearly known, whose actions caused the sacrifice of many people for the sake of a slight possibility of a cure.They were power hungry and were cruel enough to send a 14 year old girl to her death with no remorse,consent or any proper investigation or medical research. Joel initially negotiates to find someone else, gets shut down immediately, gets his means of survival snatched and was practically marched to his death. He had no option but to wipe clean these people who planned on killing someone dear to him, for something that is uncertain or in vain. And yes this was a selfish decision on Joel's part, and that was the beauty of it. The moral ambiguity. He was right or wrong or both - open to your interpretation. BUT NOW NAUGHTY DOG WANTS TO TO ERASE ALL THAT DEVELOPMENT. The active reinforcement that Joel was a cold, ruthless murderer who killed fireflies and deprived humanity of its cure? Trying to erase the fact that he was surviving and trying to keep his dear ones safe in this cold, brutal and unforgiving postapocalyptic world. So that we sympathize with Abby and enjoy golfing the tf outa Joel?. Ellie seems like a different character in this one, but again this character is immediately pushed to a whirlwind of traumatic events right from the start of the game. I missed her spark of joy,humour and enthusiasm. The treatment of the main chatacter in her own game is utterly cruel and disappointing, and seemed unfair to me. By the end, Ellie is broken beyond repair. Though she thematically chooses to be the better person and gives up on her vengeance and hate, she still manages to be on the losing side as she ends up losing her father figure which was her closest bond, loses Dina and the kid , she doesn't have her community, her people, her fucking fingers as well. Why? So Ellie could suffer a little more and be unable to do most important thing that bonded her to Joel. Not to mention she loses her switchblade too, her mother's final memory. Surprised that ND spared her mother's letter . Feel her pain and despair. Why does Ellie get such a shitty,depressing, worthless, futile and a hopeless conclusion while Abby not only gets her revenge successfully, forms a close bond in Lev and gets to escape possibly to a fresh start. Ellie? Nah she gets to suffer alone. Her BIGGEST FEAR has become a reality by the end. The least they could do is let Ellie have some solace and calm, surrounded by her loved ones on that farm,her trying to recover from her trauma slowly but surely, it's what joel would have wished for. But no, she is left all alone, absolutely traumatized, all by herself with nothing to look forward to. Oh and tommy is whole new character in every scene. So keep your eyes peeled for various versions of tommy throughout. The character inconsistencies are ridiculous.

The gameplay, beautiful sceneries, and new characters like dina and jesse are few of the positives of game - leaning more towards Jesse. Dina felt perfect for Ellie and Jesse did manage to lighten up few of the moments. The space shuttle cutscene, the museum flashback sequence, ellie and joel's flashbacks were the only parts that remotely captures the magic and beauty of tlou1. I got emotional watching them. The space shuttle sequence hits you with the feels. Joel slaying a bloater with a machete was cinematic art. (Hot too)

Abby... the forced deuteragonist, is an utter failure of character execution. Her character was forced onto us, felt hasty and lacked real build up. She starts off on the wrong foot by killing one of the most popular characters. If ND really wanted this character to work, the only possible way would have been to play her point of view and backstory prior to her mercilessly killing and torturing a guy who just saved her life. What was ND thinking? That a few hours of her pov,forced out of the blue background story, her getting to play with dogs while ellie has no option but to attack the dogs, the abby-lev bond which is pretty much discount or the walmart version ellie and joel would be enough to side with her over ellie and joel???? The part where they force you to play as abby against ellie? It made me sick. I felt cheated and disgusted.

The false advertising to make us believe joel is alive and good? That this is an ellie and joel centric game?To tug at your heartstrings like this. A complete mockery of the fans who waited 7 years to see their favorite characters get horribly treated,retconned, disrespected and thrown under the bus in favour of new unlikable characters. Butchering the heart and soul of the last of us - Joel and Ellie's bond. The fact that these two don't even get a heart to heart before his death, that Joel dies uncertain of ellie's future, maybe thought he could not save Ellie in those final painful moments, that she had never forgiven him, Ellie never getting her closure with Joel, or really getting to tell him how much he meant to her.... all these thoughts legit made me shed tears. Broke my heart. This is how much ND wanted to honour and respect ellie and joel.

The game's conclusion is hollow, futile, worthless and depressing. And in my opinion, this is non canon. This is the only way I can cope with this unsastifying conclusion. It is immaturity I guess... but I will feel better about it.

Though I utterly despise tlou2, tlou1 will continue to remain one of my favorite pieces of work in fiction. JOEL FUCKING MILLER WILL ALWAYS BE THE BADDEST BITCH AND NOTHING WILL CHANGE THE LOVE I HAVE FOR HIM.

If someone actually read it all the way, thank you for your time and effort. Really needed to rant and let these negative emotions out.

[sisterpiranha]

The Art of Snake Charming, ch. 7

Pairing: Lawrusso, Daniel Larusso/Amanda Larusso (at the start, I mean, they are engaged)

Summary:  Johnny is a stripper. Daniel has a bachelor party. Louie is an idiot.

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 7

The sun was shining over Daniel’s face when he woke up with a start. He had been dreaming of Johnny and the kiss that, even hours later, still tingled over his lips. In his dream, however, things hadn’t ended with a kiss. Flashes of pale skin against his darker one warmed his cheeks and made his heart beat faster. He waited for the guilt and shame to strike him at any moment, but, strangely, they never came.

For the first time in some time, he felt comfortable with himself. He felt like for the longest time he had been putting on a show. As a teenager, he had a very clear picture of what his future would look like and, for years, he had been working to make that future a reality. And he worked hard to become the version of himself that belonged to that future. Without realising it, he had been trapped playing a character of his own making and it had been wearing him out. But at that moment he felt like his old self, like the kid he had been training with Mr Miyagi all those years ago.

His contentment, however, was fleeting. When he turned around to Johnny, planning on offering breakfast, the other side of the bed was empty. The sheets still smelled like him, and there were grooves where his boy had laid, but the space was cold. Johnny must have left it some time ago. Daniel strained his ears trying to detect any sound, the smallest sign that the blonde was still around, but there was nothing. 

This won’t end up well for me, because I know that if you ask, I won’t be able to say no to you.

Daniel grabbed the pillow Johnny had used and buried his face in it, surrounding himself with the other man’s scent. It was all his fault, he had pushed too far the night before, just because of his selfish desire to keep Johnny close, not to lose him again. He felt a knot in his throat and couldn’t suppress the sobs that racked his body. He stayed like that for half an hour, until there were no more tears left in him and the wound in his head throbbed painfully.

Slowly, he made his way to the bathroom. He took his bandage off gingerly and then went to take shower, washing carefully the dried blood around the wound. Once he finished, he put on a new bandage and got dressed. Daniel felt empty and drained. He performed every action automatically, going through the motions of taking his meds, making the bed, preparing breakfast. 

A loud ring pulled him out of his stupor. Had he given his phone number to Johnny?

“Hello?” 

“So, he is alive!” A cheerful voice said on the other side.

“Amanda, hi.” Normally, hearing her voice filled him with joy, but today it was nothing but another reminder of what had happened the previous night.

“So, an interesting thing happened. I got a call from your mother complaining, to me, mind you, that you hadn’t called at all her yesterday. I explained that after the bachelor party you were probably too hungover to get out of bed, but she didn’t seem to believe that was possible for her perfect little angel.”

“I don’t think she used those exact words, but yeah, I was definitely not feeling up to it.”

“Well, call her now, so she won’t keep badgering me.”

“Fine. How was your party?”

“Good. But I know you don’t want to hear the details, so I’ll spare you.”

“I’m glad.”

“Are you ok? You sound a bit down.” Amanda sounded concerned, so Daniel tried to put a little more energy in his voice.

“I’m fine, just tired.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, at least we have this week off. Not that I’ll be resting much, there’s so much to do still!”

“Do you want me to help?” he asked, half-heartedly. 

“Not if you’re going to come here and say that you don’t care one way or the other when I ask for your opinion, or complain about how expensive everything is. Besides, I want you to check the papers I gave you last week. I think the proposal is worth considering.”

“Is this the best time to do it? With the wedding and all, what’s the rush?”

“We have been talking about opening our own dealership for years. We have the money, believe it or not, I’m not spending it all on this wedding, and we have been sitting on our hands for far too long. This is our chance.”

“I just don’t see why we have to discuss it now.”

“Because he needs an answer. He has the money and wants to invest, he won’t wait forever.”

“I don’t see why he can’t…”

“Is this because he is my dad? You know that he’d be a silent partner, we’d still own the majority of the business. 

“Of course it’s not that.”

“Just go over the proposal, Daniel. We need an answer for Wednesday. This could change our lives.”

“Right, yes, I will,” he conceded. 

“That’s all I wanted to hear.”

“You know I love you right? And I want to make you happy?” 

Amanda laughs.

“Of course, where is this coming from?” 

“I just wanted a reminder.”

“Are you sure everything is ok?”

“Yes, everything is fine,” he assured her. “Want to have dinner tonight?”

“I can’t, remember I’m meeting with some clients. I’m buttering them now, so I can get them to jump ship when the time comes. Tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“Great. I have to go. Check the proposal! And call your mother, for god’s sake!”

“I will, goodbye Mandy.”

“Bye! Love you!”

The line went dead. With a sigh, Daniel dialled his mother’s number. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, Ma.”

“So, he is alive!”

“You know, for all you dislike Amanda, you two are not that different.”

“I don’t dislike her. I just don’t think she’s right for you. There is no spark between you.”

“There’s plenty sparks.”

“When your father and I were about to get married, we couldn't get our hands off each other.”

“Ma!”

“And you are spending the week apart? I don’t understand it?”

“It’s not the same, Amanda and I have been together for a while. And she’s staying with her sister because the wedding is going to be there, so she thought it would be more practical.”

“That’s another thing, what’s wrong with a church wedding?”

“Ma, we went over this already.” Suddenly, something under the coffee table caught his eye: an envelope with the word ‘Johnny’ written on it. The same envelope he had taken to The Slammer the night before. “Look, Ma, I gotta go. I’ll call you later, ok?”

“Daniel!”

“Bye.” 

Daniel hung up in a rush and went to retrieve the envelope. The money was still there. Had Johnny dropped it? 

In less than a second, he had his keys in hand and was heading for the door. Before he could leave, however, it occurred to him that he had no idea where Johnny lived. He guessed he could take it to the club, but was Johnny even working that night? He hadn’t said. He could also wait in his apartment. Johnny knew where he lived, so maybe he would come by once he realised it was lost. But maybe he would think he lost it somewhere else. Taking it to him would be the best thing. But how?

Carmen.

Of course, he could go back to the hospital and ask Carmen the address. Suddenly, Daniel’s chest felt less heavy. With a new determination, he left the apartment. 

The drive to the hospital was uneventful. All his thoughts were focused on his task. When he arrived, he went straight to the nurse station. The same nurse as the night before was there. He looked at him in surprise, but before he could say anything, Daniel spoke.

“Hi, I’m looking for a nurse who works here. Her name is Carmen.”

The man looked at him suspiciously. 

“I’m afraid I can’t give you any information about employees.”

“Please, I need to talk to her. It’s urgent.”

“Sir, I’m afraid that’s impossible. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I understand. Look, you don’t have to tell me anything. But once I leave, could you tell her that Johnny’s friend Daniel wants to speak to her? I’ll be in the park across the street. Please?”

The man’s face remained impassive but Daniel didn’t push. He left the hospital and sat on one of the benches thinking about his next move. If this didn’t work, then he would have to try that night at the club. And he didn’t think he could face Johnny’s dancing one more time. Not now that he knew what his lips tasted like and his brain might start to wonder about the rest of his body. He blushed just thinking about it.

The park was practically empty. Most children would be at school at that time, so it was mostly adults enjoying the sunshine and the outdoors. A woman was sitting against a tree, reading a book. She made Daniel think of Amanda and a pang of shame wrack his chest. Whenever he had imagined the future, he had pictured someone like Amanda by his side, beautiful, smart, witty. Someone who would help him build the successful future he had always wanted. And now Amanda was planning their wedding while Daniel chased a man he hadn’t seen in 17 years. 

Maybe Johnny had been right in leaving him. This between them, whatever it was, it had to end. He couldn’t risk the future he has worked so hard on, and just for what? He would talk to Johnny one more time, give him the money and that would be it. 

Not for the first time during the past few days, Daniel wished Mr Miyagi had been there. He was sure the man would have some perfect wisdom to help him make the thoughts on his head make sense.  

Someone calling his name made Daniel turn. Carmen was running towards him. 

“Daniel! What happened? Is Johnny ok?” She asked, almost out of breath. 

“Carmen! Thank god! Yes, sorry, everything is fine. Sorry to make you worry.”

“Julian said you needed to talk to me.”

“Yes, it’s just… Well, Johnny forgot something at home, I wanted to give it back.”

“He spent the night with you?” She seemed surprised.

“Nothing happened! He was just looking after me.”

“Of course,” she said, but there was a tinge of disbelief in her smile. 

“Would you mind giving me his address?” 

Carmen crossed her arms and looked at him carefully as if he was studying him. After a moment she nodded and asked him for a piece of paper. Once he had written the address he handed it to him. But when he took it, she didn’t let go.

“Daniel, promise me you’ll be careful. Johnny is not as tough as he looks. I don’t want to see him hurt.” Her voice was soft, but there was a very subtle threat underneath.

“I promise, Carmen. I don’t want to see Johnny hurt either.”

“Good,” she smiled and let go of the address, “I have to go back. Good luck.”

“Thank you, Carmen.”

Daniel almost ran to the car and started the engine, all the while his heart beating wildly in his chest.

He barely noticed driving there, but soon he was parking the car in front of Johnny’s building. He was surprised to see that the place was fairly close to the club where Johnny worked. It reminded him a bit of where his mother and he had moved when they arrived in Reseda. The hallways looked shabbier, though, the wallpaper on the walls was peeling, and some of the lights were not working. 

Finally, Daniel arrived at apartment 15 and he stood frozen looking at the number. He could hear faint sounds coming from inside and for the first time, it occurred to him that Johnny might not be alone, that Robby might be with him. The knot in his stomach that always appeared whenever Robby was mentioned made itself known again. There was no other way, however. He’d just have to hope that Robby would give Johnny and him some privacy to talk. Would the man have heard of him? Johnny had talked to Carmen about him, would he had done the same with Robby? Would he have come clean about what had happened the night before?

Daniel finally knocked, resigned to the possibility of having the door closed in his face. 

A few seconds later, the door opened and Johnny was there, his appearance took Daniel’s breath away. He was barefoot, wearing a pair of soft sweatpants and nothing else. His hair was wet, and small droplets fell from it to run down his chest and below. The sound of a TV could be heard in the background. It sounded like morning cartoons.

“Larusso,” he said, surprised, closing the door slightly so Daniel couldn't see inside. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“I went to the hospital and asked Carmen for your address. You forgot this.” Daniel said, handing Johnny the envelope.

“You did all that just to give me this? You really didn’t need to…”

“I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Johnny said and Daniel could see he was tightening his grip on the door handle. 

“I know you’re probably with Robby, but I’ll just be a few minutes, please. We can go to my car.”

Johnny turned his head to look inside and then looked back at Daniel.

“Look, now is not a good time. Maybe we can arrange…”

“Dada?” A voice sounded behind Johnny.

“Johnny?” Daniel said confused, but before he could say something else, a small face appeared squeezing itself between Johnny’s body and the door, a pair of big green eyes stared at him with curiosity. 

Johnny sighed and scooped the boy in his arms making him giggle.

“Hey buddy, did you finish your apple?” the blonde man asked in a tone he had never heard before. The boy smiled and nodded, but then threw a look at Daniel and hid his face in Johnny’s neck.

“He’s shy with strangers,” the man said in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

“I don’t understand, is he Migui? Are you babysitting?”

“Carmen’s son? No, he’s at his home.”

“Then who is this.”

The boy raised his head to Daniel again, eyes almost obscured by a fringe of dark hair.

“Larusso, this is Robby. Robby, this is dada’s friend, Larusso.” The boy made a noise that could have been an attempt to repeat his name, but Daniel was too shocked to notice.

“Robby? I don’t…”

“He’s my son.”

[theaurorfileshq]

C R O W   F A L C O N E R - Q U I N N  /  A U R O R   R E C R U I T

AGE: Twenty

BADGE NUMBER: U99F87

BLOODSTATUS: Halfblood

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Trans Man, He/Him

IDENTIFYING FEATURES: magical warding tattoos, tattoo of a Kestrel over his heart, tattoo of a cypress tree on his right side, tattoo of a door surrounded by ancient ruins on the left forearm, Two tarot cards on his right forearm (The devil and the tower reversed). Red sunglasses, so much fucking neon everywhere, a pink acid wash denim jacket covered in patches.

STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:

(+):  Spiritual Medium, Divination, Winning Personality.

(-):   Combat Magic, Overly Emotional, Flawed Decision Making Skills.

BACKGROUND:

Crow comes into the world first. It speaks to his natural inclination to rush into things head first, damn the consequences. He’s followed closely by Kestrel. Cooler, calmer and collected. She sticks the landing a hell of a lot better than he does. They’re inseparable from their first moments alive, because of course they are. They’re like their father and Aunt Athena, attached at the hip, two parts of the same whole. Crow is pretty sure that they never would have survived without each other, but that’s just because they’ve always been together. Objectively, either of them would have been fine as individual entities. Cypress Crow and Hades Falconer-Quinn were good parents, after all. Loving, kind, patient. So damn protective that it hurt.

They had good reason to be protective of their children, their twins, their bundles of joy. Maybe it had been foolish of them, but they never expected their own gifts to be passed down to the next generation. Their talents descended on them in subtle ways. Kestrel always knew what her brother was thinking. Crow was seemingly normal until he woke up screaming about the ghost who lived in his bedroom. He feels bad for screaming, later. She was a nice ghost, after all. She just surprised him.

The worry on his father’s face is clear, when the ghosts begin playing up. As far as Crow can remember, he always had a careful childhood. Slightly more careful than Kestrel, who took that little thing called Legilimency in hand with an endless kind of grace. Crow had always been the more delicate of the two, the one who was coddled and minded and fretted over. Even Kes took a turn in it, mimicking the fretful behaviour of their fathers as children do. Crow has to be sheltered, taught how to cope with the very scary things that linger in the world, the voices and the specters that might make themselves known to him. Aunt Athena and Uncle Sol crafted wards for him, delicate spellwork that would keep the ghosts away, as much as they could. It dulled them to the quietest litany of lullaby whispers, voices drifting by on the wind that could be easily ignored. He overheard Cypress, one night, talking about how he didn’t want Crow to suffer through the same things he had in his life, haunted and sleepless and fraught.

The thing is, Crow was always kind of a wildcard. He wanted to run fast and take risks. He wanted to be the center of attention. He wanted to take risks. More often than not, he got himself and Kestrel into trouble. Crow spends far too much time focusing on the things he isn’t allowed to do, finding ways to bend the rules as far as they’ll go, figuring out how to break them as best he can. He has a wild heart, he can’t be penned up, he chafes under the weight of worry. The ghosts are so carefully kept away from him that he doesn’t even realise how bad things can be.

He plays around with rebellion, in his teenage years. He smokes a cigarette, and coughs his lungs out, and makes himself keep going because Alexander Hernandez  is there to slap him on the back and give him a warm smile. He does things at school that he knows he probably shouldn’t, pulls harmless pranks and spends way too much time on his phone. Aster and Kestrel share long suffering looks about him, but Becca thinks that he’s funny. Lots of people think he’s funny. And isn’t that the most important thing? People like him, they smile at him and they share in his jokes, even though sometimes he talks too loud or laughs for too long, even if sometimes they might be laughing at him more than laughing with him.

He becomes something like a nightmare of a child, melodramatic and moody and unlikely to listen to anything that his dad’s say. During the summer before school, he really does fall hopelessly in love with Alexander Hernandez –– he’s seventeen already, and he lives in the old house by the graveyard, which is problematic for reasons that Crow doesn’t even consider. He laughs when Crow tells him that he thinks his house might be haunted, and kisses him until he doesn’t care enough to listen to any restless spirits with their whisper quiet voices. Looking back on it later, Crow will know that Alexander wasn’t a very good boyfriend. That he was thoughtless, and pushed too hard, and in the end left Crow feeling empty inside. At the time, it seemed like the end of the world when Alexander broke up with him the night before they went back to school. It left him heartbroken, tender around the edges, and he’d run away to Marleigh’s house to cry about it.

Sixth year feels like the time when a lot of things fall apart. Something about him feels caged and caught and stifled, when he gets to school that year. It makes him want to run too fast and take too many risks, it makes him want to push the boundaries and break the rules. His dads put up careful wards around him all the time, but Crow is foolish, and he’s pretty sure that they’re useless. It’s his own responsibility to keep them up as best he can, while he’s at school. He really doesn’t think anything bad will happen if he lets them drop. Of course, nothing but bad things can happen. Ilvermorny is full of ghosts, he realises. More than he knew. Not the blatant one’s, but the kind that linger in dark corners. The ghosts from the Hernandez house follow Alexander and his brothers around the school. Their mother and eldest sister. It seems like there are more ghosts than real people, sometimes, and it leaves him raw and scared and strained, stretched too thin about everything he has to know now.

His mind is an open door, and the bad things have a way in now. He’s too scared to tell anyone that he messed up. That he can’t build the wards back up from scratch. That he underestimated what Cypress meant, when he said these things could break you. He almost tells Becca, but she’s got her own issues. Her and Aster explode in some kind of drama, and it rips their little group asunder, leaving him feeling stranded without a raft for a moment. He almost tells Kestrel, but she’d tell their dads, and Crow feels stupid enough already for getting himself in this mess. He pulls away instead, retreats a little, and goes back to talking too loud and laughing too hard. His grades plummet, and he doesn’t sleep, but he tries to keep up the act as best he can.

Crow forces himself through packs of cigarettes, and finds that they really do help with the nerves. He goes to a secret party, held by one of the seventh year students, and takes an offered drink, and finds that that helps even more. Kissing boys quiets him down, inside, makes it quiet for just a moment. It’s a vicious cycle that he lets himself get lost in, a mask he slips on even when the hopelessness throbs up inside of his chest. He smiles his smile and most people don’t notice when it’s strained. It falls to Kestrel to worry, in the absence of everyone else. That look on her face like she wants to make him behave himself, like she knows he’s falling apart, like she wants to worry at his edges until they grow less sharp and he can stop cutting himself on them.

He isn’t proud of the way he pushes her away. Of the way he runs from the problem. It’s easier to get lost. Easier to make himself something else. Easier to feel like things will never get better. Crow knows that honesty would have ended it sooner, knows that Kes can feel every hopeless spark of fear and panic and pain inside his chest. In the end, enough is enough for her, and she does tell their parents what’s going on.

They pull him out of school, and he spends days curled up with his head on Hades’ lap, avoiding Cypress eyes. He feels like a failure, like he’s thrown all of their protection back in their faces. As much as he’s chafed under their care, his parents have always been his heroes. He lets Cypress hold him close and shoo away the ghosts, and takes comfort in the warm embrace he always loved as a child. It’s slow work, rebuilding the walls that had taken years before, tidying everything away as best they can. Cypress kisses him on the forehead, and helps him get back on his feet, and takes him to get the same magical warding tattooed on his skin as he has himself. He laughs, when Crow asks him if he can get a normal tattoo as well, and it’s a thrilling return to form for both of them.

He goes back to school, gets back on his feet, and carries on with his life. He learns to control everything as best he can, with his new wards and his new understanding of how dangerous things can be. He learns the art of things, dedicates himself to understanding the universe, and thinks a lot about his dads. They’re still his heroes. They’re a lot of people’s heroes, when he looks at it closer. Neither of them are active aurors anymore, out in the field. But Hades teaches at the Salem academy, and he’s old enough now that he can get Cypress to tell him stories. He’s seventeen when he decides he wants to be an auror, a little bit because of them, a little bit because that’s what Becca is doing, and he doesn’t know how to exist on his own. Mostly, he wants to help people. He doesn’t have any delusions of grandeur, doesn’t think he’ll be the smartest or the best. But he knows that someone like him can change the world, if they do it right.

He follows Becca to New Orleans, like a shadow she can’t shake off. He parties too hard, and works harder at the academy. Sometimes, he introduces himself, and people talk about his dads. Falconer-Quinn? Like the one that solved the Pelican Island Killer case? He always has to laugh that off, but sometimes it feels like a legacy that’s too heavy on his shoulders. This career runs in his blood. He knows that Becca must feel the same. That Aster must, off at Salem, sporadically replying to the letters he tries to write to her. The Crow Falconer-Quinn brand solidifies more as he moves through the academy, and he gets better at being something bright and beautiful, eye catching and far too often glitter stained. Embarrassingly, he sleeps with too many of his classmates, and gets his heart broken a few times more. He still drinks too much, but that doesn’t matter, because for the moment it feels like him and Becca against the world.

He must do something right at the Academy, because just a couple of weeks after graduation he gets the offer from MACUSA. Central Squad. Just like his dad’s. He’s proud, and a little scared, and devastated for the time that he’ll be apart from Becca after all these years. He wants to do a good job, but he feels high strung and strange when he starts in June. Crow imagined that working under Aunt Cassie would be fun, but it leaves him feeling stifled and fifteen again, and she clearly worries too much about him to put him in harm’s way. She throws him lowball cases, and freaks the fuck out when one ends up being more intense than anybody could have realised. It’s your run of the mill cursed object case, telekit covers that someone fucked with for the hell of it. Officer Micheals is a pro when it comes to curses, an up and comer on the squad. It’s not his fault that he ends up at Calderon Memorial Hospital, minutes after he manages to bring their bad guy in. Not his fault that Micheals practically got blown up in front of him, leaves him wide eyed and shaking and scared.

Aunt Cassie, of course, has to find something to do with him. She tells him that he’s good, of course he is, but she can’t stomach making him do anything like that again. The transfer to Pacific Squad comes a couple of weeks later, and they make it clear that it isn’t a punishment. So he does what Crow Falconer-Quinn does best, and tucks all the damage away. He covers it up with the glitter, and the bright colours of his clothes, the smiling and the jokes. He drinks himself into oblivion a little more, and tells all his friends on Pacific Squad that they’ll have to get used to the idea of coping with his presence when he starts there.

[art-thropologist]

A Portfolio of Recovery

If you’ve been following my entries, you’ll know that I recently had to go through some medical treatment. I am at a point now where I am willing to share some of the products of the art therapy that went along with that process. With each piece I’ll explain the prompt or the intention behind it and how I interpret the visual cues.

Please note that I will be talking about eating disorder behaviors, body image, and trauma. I use vague terms, but if these are triggering topics, then do not read. If you are in need of help with an ED, NEDA can get you support.

“Timeline” (2019). Color pencil on paper. Prompted.

The only instruction was to create a timeline that represents the development of my body image. Instead of using text I felt more comfortable conveying sentiments through line and color. The horizon line in the center represents the neutral base while rises indicate positive emotions and declines are negative. The timeline is divided into five stages with vertical lines; infancy, lower school, middle school, high school, and college. 

The main colors change as my favorite color changed over the periods, but also reflecting other experiences. I began with blues and yellows as a toddler. Open and wide like a shining sky. I was a happy kid. Who didn’t think themselves invincible back then? I first started having issues with self worth during Elementary school. I was picked on for being ‘dumb’, bullied for being too emotional. Most of the time I was told to ignore the bullies. That doesn’t work. So then I was told not to react. That didn’t work either. It just taught me that I was the one causing issues. I began suppressing displays of emotion. I liked myself, but I figured that I was just always going to be someone else’s punching bag.

Middle school was supposed to be a time of growth. You finally become a teenager. In my case, you have a bat mitzvah and are then an adult to the community. Kids were still relentless in bullying. Add in tween hormones and angst, and you have a powder keg. I hit a growth spurt but I didn’t ‘measure up’ to the other girls. When my parent’s got divorced I blamed myself even though there was nothing I could have done. I felt buried under the pressures of being the perfect daughter as shown with the brown curve. My sister (only 3 years older than me) was my parent; waking me up, getting me to school, taking me to Hebrew school, getting me dinner, etc. Over this period I was forced to become self-sufficient. I had to. I was complimented a few times for being so adult for my age. I latched on to that as a way to build up my self worth. If i couldn’t be pretty, at least I could be mature. I was looking forward to high school as a promised land of new beginnings.

I guess I got what I wanted.

I’m not going into details about what happened. It was a traumatic event. That’s all you need to know. But it left me angry, broken, grieving, and hateful. Once again, I blamed myself even though what happened was in no way my fault. The way I was treated as a result only tore my self worth and body image to shreds. I was ugly. I was at fault. I wasn’t worth caring. I wasn’t good enough. Several years of therapy have let me process a lot of this period in my life. It was the start of my ED behaviors as I tried to make myself worth caring about. Black tainted my experience through a series of deaths. My lowest point was when I realized that I would be the next one if I didn’t get help for my ED.

Hope is purple to me. I began seriously writing in high school (nothing good. Nothing you write in high school is good. You think you’re the next Harper E. Lee or John Green with these big themes that you really don’t understand yet. But it was a way to get some of these big emotions out.) It gave me something to value about myself when I was still belittled as ‘stupid’. When I started college I began to get therapy for anxiety and my ED. Since then I’ve been building myself again. I am stronger. I am a survivor. I do not exist for the approval of others. It sparked a new light, a new fire for me.

“Dance” (2019). Colored pencil on paper. Free draw.

The three overlapping figures represent different dance styles that I’ve done. Red is Hula/Shawl. Green is Irish Step. Blue is Judaic Circle. It all overlaps to me.

“Movement” (2019). Oil pastel on paper. Prompted

Visualizing a group exercise where we were passing items across space. I’m the blue.

“Animals” (2019). Colored pencil and watercolor on paper. Prompted.

Draw three animals. The first is how you think others see you. The second is how you see yourself. The third is who you want to be.

Owl. The wise one. Solitary. Nocturnal. Independent. An omen maybe.

Salmon. Swimming upstream and trying to overcome the currents. Needs others to survive.

Fox. Cunning. Sleek. Adaptive. Wild.

I like the insular style of Tomm Moore and definitely took inspiration here. I wanted all of the animals to be connected in some way, so that style seemed best suited to that.

“Pondshore” (2020). Oil and chalk pastel on paper. Prompted.

What stood out the most during a walk outside?

“Nature walk” (2019). Crayon and oil pastel on paper. Prompted.

How did the nature walk make you feel?

I felt movement from the trees blowing in the wind, the grey sky over head, and my own body.

“How rare and beautiful it is to even exist” (2020). Pencil on paper. Prompted.

Create a mandala.

I pulled on the Tomm Moore style again with all of the components flowing into each other in some way. There are birds flying into the distance, a vine that becomes a raging sea, a woman before a fire, a sun in the sky and a half moon setting. Yes, the title is from Saturn by Sleeping at Last.

“Lyric” (2019). Colored pencil and pencil on paper. Prompted.

What inspires you?

I use sinuous lines of lyrics create my figure. I’m inspired by music and these are songs which have stuck with me.

Blue: “Hello, I've been waiting for you/ I didn't know if you'd recognize my voice/ Cause I've been whispering your name and I've been imagining this day hoping that I’ll say/ Welcome home/ Welcome home. (“Welcome Home” by Joy Williams)

Orange: “Well, I've been deep in this sleeplessness/ I don't know why/ Just can't get away from myself/ When I get back on my feet I'll blow this open wide/ And carry me home in good health” (“Who Do You Love” by Marianas Trench)

Red: “This is gospel for the fallen ones/ Locked away in permanent slumber/ If you love me let me go/ 'Cause these words are knives that often leave scars/ The fear of falling apart” (“This is Gospel” by P!ATD)

Yellow: “How do you write like you're/ Running out of time?/ Write day and night like you're/ Running out of time?/ Like you're running out of time/ Are you running out of time?/ How do you write like tomorrow won't arrive?” (“Non-Stop” from Hamilton)

Purple: “When I die/ I don't want to rest in peace/ I want to dance in joy/ I want to dance in the graveyards/ And while I'm alive/ I don't want to be alone/ Mourning the ones who came before/ I want to dance with them some more/ Let's dance in the graveyards/ Gloria, like some other name/ We kept on calling ya” (“Dance in the Graveyard” by Delta Rae)

“Billowing out a River from My Lungs” (2019). Watercolor, colored pencil, and oil pastel on paper. Free draw.

I’m actually working on a newer version of this. It was just something to explore mediums and a bit of meditative practice.

“Emotions (Sadness, Creativity, Loneliness, Hope, Grief, Sonder)” (2019). Watercolor on paper. Prompted.

Pick six emotions and represent them.

Sadness is dark to me, heavy, and spiraling. It’s a whirlpool that drags you down.

Creativity is spontaneous, bright and orange like flowers. I tried to convey that with different strokes and a golden spark in the corner. 

Loneliness is hard and harsh absence. That feeling of emptiness despite being surrounded by love and compassion.

Hope is green, a path in the forrest that is moving upward, forward.

Grief is red and raw at first and then the longing fades in, dark and deep.

Part 2 is coming soon

[godofsunandselfies]

When Apollo woke, his first thought was that everything was a dream. It couldn't be real. After all, he remembered fading. He remembered the weakness of his limbs, how his strength just faded away with every breath, with every word that he said to... to...

He furrowed his brows. Was someone with him when he faded? (Tears running down a face - a face he loved and made his days brighter. Arms held tightly - silently begging him to stay. He hated seeing him cry.)

He couldn't recall.

Slowly he sat up; his skin registering the familiar chill of Olympus's stone floor. This was not a dream, he was beginning to realize. The realization only strengthened as he took in the room - the throne room- where his fellow Olympians were too, gawking, amazed at this miracle. Some, namely Hermes, had even taken to running across the room, embracing others as he cried in jubilation. Ares and Aphrodite sat clung together (and for some reason the sight tugged at his heart). Demeter and Hestia were smiling and rejoicing. Even his father and step-mother seemed go be sharing a rare moment of honest affection with one another.

They... They all lived. They had returned from...well... nothing. It was nothing short of a miracle.

Just as he found his feet, a weight slammed hard against him, near sending him careening back to the ground. He smelled the scent of nature - of dew-speckled grass fields and a forest of cypresses - and he held tight, a bright smile spread wide across his face. "Artemis! "

She pulled away from him, but only enough for them to truly see one another, not at all leaving the embrace. Not yet. There were tears in her eyes - tears of joy and relief. "Apollo, you're okay."

He nodded, and even he could not help but tear up. "Yes. Yes. I'm okay. I'm alive. And so are you. "

His words only seemed to make his beloved sister sob, and he felt sorry for it. Then she slapped his chest, hard.

"Agh! What was that for? " He recoiled from her, shocked.

Artemis glared at him. "For not coming home when everything... when everyone started to... " Fade was the word, but she could not bring herself to say it, to recall those times. Apollo didn't blame her. "You risked your life, choosing to stay out of Olympus. It would have made you fade faster! You... I didn't even know if you were already gone or not and I... "

He stopped her from speaking any more when obviously the memories only brought her more and more pain. Embracing his sister again, he shushed her as she cried. They clung tight to one another. Glad and relieved to be together once more.

"I'm sorry," he said in a hush, though he knew an apology likely would not be enough for leaving her be in what they had all feared to be their final moments in existence. "I'm sorry I made you worry. I'm so sorry I left you alone but... I had to be with... "

His words faltered as did his thoughts. Who did he had to be with? Who did he choose over his own sister - his twin? His mind hazed. He couldn't recall. (And his heart ached so much. Why?)

Artemis regarded him with a look of concern. "Apollo? Are you alright? "

"Oh, uh" - he shook his mind free of the odd thoughts - "I'm fine. Just... Just still in shock, I guess. "

She nodded. Believing his words, she then went on to grab his hand and lead him out if the throne room, babbling excitedly on wanting to see how much the world had changed in their absence. He allowed her to drag him, but only because he still... he still couldn't understand.

Why did it feel like something was missing?

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

A millennium. They had been gone for a millennium. A thousand years had passed while they slept in the void.

Apollo's heart ached as he stood in the heart of the city - the capital of the new point of power of civilization, and where Olympus now resided over - surrounded by strangers who spoke in a strange language in this new strange world.

I wonder if he's okay, he thought, only to frown, confused. Just who was he thinking of?

The ache in his chest grew stronger every day.

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

Apollo fell back into his old ways. He roamed the changed world and marveled at its innovations - at the art, the music, the poetry! And he quickly learned that it was because of art that he and his family, as well as the other gods, had been restored. (Something both he and Dionysus were quite smug over.)

He also fell back to his norm of socializing with mortals - making friends; inspiring some and healing many (though prayers were close to nonexistent now, he still felt the need to do his work). Chatting and flirting as he did in the past.

But it...wasn't the same. Not really. When he found a mortal he fancied and pursued then as he does, it felt... wrong. Like he was making a grave mistake. That he was betraying something (someone).

None of his relationships lasted long. Not unusual for him, but this time, it's him who walks away. The relationships rarely last long enough to sire demigods.

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

He fell in love again.

A sweet young woman - Mary. While to most she was nothing more than a peasant girl in the middle of nowhere, to Apollo he saw a spark. She was curious... so curious of the world beyond her little home; her little village with such a long name. (An eagerness to learn; bright eyes they should be blue... It just drew him in. Familiar.)

It was his music that caught her eye to him. He had played a rather somber piece - the tragedy of two lovers whose love was ended by Time.

He adored her and spent spring and summer at her side. He spun her stories of, well, himself... The "myths" of the Greeks - both the known and the not.

But... It still felt wrong. He loved her. He did. (Did he? Or did he love how much she reminded him of him?) He cared about her. Wanted to see her happy.

She wanted to see the world. Perhaps he could give it to her - whisk her away...

Why did the thought make him so cold with guilt? Why did he feel this way?

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

He left her. He just....

It didn't feel right to be with her when it was clear he did not feel quite the same as she. It was likely she knew. Her eyes... She always looked at him with such sadness. Like she knew something that he didn't and...pitied him for it.

A day before he left, Mary had asked him, "Who was the song for? "

"I don't know what you mean," he had laughed.

Then her eyes had that look again, and his heart ached, like a knife had embedded itself deep. "The song you sang when we met? The one about the lovers separated by Time... It's obvious it's a story about you and someone else. And that the song is, well... It sounded like you were singing to them. "

He had no answer for her.

He couldn't stay after that.

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

"Where are your bracelets?"

"Hmm? " Blinking out from his daydream, Apollo regarded his sister with a lazy turn of his head. One that earned him a particularly annoyed look form her. "I'm sorry. I didn't quite catch that. "

Her eyes rolled. "Your bracelets. The ones we made for one another." She held up her hands, showing off the two bracelets that were adorned on each of her wrists. Each a simple band - one gold and bearing a slightly lopsided sun; and one silver, this one with a crooked crescent. "I've been meaning to ask about them. Noticed you haven't worn them since, well... " She shrugged. And he knew what she was getting at. The day they "woke up".

"That's silly. I always... I always wear them." Yet when he pulled back the sleeves to his shirt, he found his right wrist, where his gold bracelet should be, bare. His brow burrowed. "I... What? Where are they? "

How could he have not noticed that they were gone? It's been years since they all had woken from that place of nothing!

Artemis sighed. She looked disappointed, and hurt. It only made him feel worse.

"You lost them, didn't you?"

"No, no, I... " What was there for him to say? He... He couldn't remember what happened to them. "I... I suppose I did. "

"It's okay," said Artemis; though Apollo certainly felt otherwise. "Bound to happen at some point. You always had a bad habit of losing things. Oh! Like that time when--"

And she prattled on with her story about the "good old days". Seemed that was all everyone ever did since the woke.

As he listened, Apollo heard a voice in his ear. At first, he figured it was a rare follower - someone who still believed, if only a bit, in them. Likely it was some hopeful artist or desperate doctor seeking out his aid. But then... Then the voice, a man, started to just... go on and converse with him. No prayer. No pleas. Just... a conversation.

It was so strange. The voice... He sounded so familiar. (And his heart ached and ached with every word he spoke. Practically crying out to this strange man.)

He couldn't help but laugh, amazed, as the man began to list his titles. He was impressed. Whoever this was, he knew his stuff.

Then...

“I miss your birds. My birds,” the voice chuckled. “Got chased out of town for trying to raise a few. They call ravens a bad omen now, but I see they’re still looking out for me."

It all came crashing down on him, slamming into his head like a lightning strike. Years - centuries worth - of memories flooded his mind. And he remembered.

A smile that made his heart flutter; a voice that filled his days with laughter and love. A face that could brighten even his worst days... and a pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

He remembered the silly circumstances of their first fighting. (Picking up a snake with his bare hands? What a silly mortal.) He remembered the painful struggle with how he felt about this wonderful man - how he had ignored how much he loved him; so scared to be hurt - and the absolute joy that flooded him when he told him "I love you". He remembered how he feared losing him to a prophecy that kept them apart... And he remembered the pain, the despair, when he left him, faded - the feeling of his arms around his neck, his body beside his, the last he felt before disappearing into the void.

He remembered. He remembered Kleitos.

"How could I have forgotten?" he gasped, breathless and with tears pooling his eyes.

Artemis sat up from her throne. "Apollo? "

But he ignored her. He sought out the raven his Kleitos spoke to and, with a quick gesture, gave a command for it to go to him. Then, ignoring yet another call from his sister, he went to him in a flash of bright light.

Opening his eyes, Apollo found himself on a path leading on to... well... he wasn't quite sure. But where he was didn't matter. What did was the man standing just a foot away.

The clouds parted for this moment, and the sun shone brighter. As it should, Apollo thought, a watery smile on his face. He was with his love again.

When he had woke on Olympus to find the world unfamiliar, so completely changed, he felt incomplete - that something was missing. Now, Apollo knew. He found that missing piece.

Apollo felt whole again.

Blinking back his tears, Apollo called out to the love of his life:

"Hopefully, I'm not a bad omen myself... "

[kvjff-blog]

Joshua Ojonuba

Professor Robert Lunday

ENGL 1301

10 October 2019

The Beautiful Game

Two sprained wrists, at least four ankle sprains, couple of cuts and at least a dozen splinters: those are just some of my injuries over the last six or so years of playing competitive soccer. My injuries are on the minor side as many others suffer worse injuries that often require surgeries and months of physical therapy. Professional soccer is played by approximately two hundred and fifty million players in over two hundred countries and dependencies all around the world, making it the world's most popular sport. This does not include the millions more who play for fun, in semi pro clubs, and in amateur leagues all across the world. It would be almost impossible to imagine the amount of injuries they sustain as well as the extent of them. Seeing as the consequences and pain are so substantial, the question as to why so many people like myself play and get influenced by this sport on such a grand scale. The answer is: I don’t know, I don’t think anyone know to be fair. We all just play no matter the cost; the game is all. I remember reading an article about Ada Hegerberg, who is regarded as one of if not the best women’s soccer players alive. In the article she was asked why she even played since she had opted to sit out the women’s world cup for her country. She responded, "Playing football can be damn harsh, but every day is a fight.” reading this the first time I thought to myself, if it is as harsh as you say why not just quit playing? As I look back now I am able reflect on her statement, and I realize that we are similar. Never once while I played did I think about quitting, through the many injuries, through the long draining practices, through the failures and let downs, I fought through. Like Ada and many others I kept on going necessarily because I wanted to but more so because I had to; quitting never seemed like an option as least not one that crossed my mind.

Soccer has been a major factor in my life probably ever since I was a little baby especially after experiencing the major soccer atmosphere in Lagos, Nigeria, where I was born and raised. In fact my earliest memory of the sport was maybe in 2006 during the world cup. It was the qualification stages against Angola, and Nigeria desperately needed a win to qualify for the most famous and prestigious tournament in all of sporting history. When I was a kid in Nigeria, power outages were extremely common as Nigeria was and still is going through a power supply crisis. So it came as no surprise when suddenly in the middle of the game there was a power outage. Because this was an everyday occurrence we had a phase for it - “down nepa”, and when the lights would come back up we would yell “up nepa”. I had never witnessed a sense of community like I saw that day. As soon as the power went out, we immediately rushed out to the industrial generator out back like we always do. After about five minutes of tussling with the generator, struggling, trying to get it started, there was finally a spark visible through the window of the back room. By this time there had been a crowd formed behind us, seemingly the entire neighborhood was behind us cheering at the sight of light. Apparently we were the only household with enough gasoline to power their generator. “Ta lo fe wo ball”, my aunt said in her native Yoruba; she was asking who was ready to watch some ball or football. Which brings me to the question of why it’s called soccer in the U.S.A instead of football like it is everywhere else in the world, it’s like Americans always have to one up everyone else; anyway, I digress. Seeing as we were the only household with power and our TV was definitely not big enough for the magnitude of people that had now gathered expecting a game of soccer. Luckily one of the families in the neighborhood had a flat screen which in retrospect could not have been very big but it was definitely bigger than anything we or anyone within maybe the next three miles did. With our always reliable generator and the newly found TV, we were all ready to witness Nigeria do us proud and make it to the world cup for another year in a row. Even though the rest of the game was boring and disappointing with Nigeria losing one to zero to an admittedly much stronger and experienced squad in Angola, the moment of community and coming together is what makes it a memorable. Year after year, game after game, support poured in from all over the neighborhood. Nigeria vs. Ghana, Nigeria vs. Argentina, Nigeria vs. Brazil, Nigeria vs. Mexico, every lost seemly just as enjoyable as a win. These are the memories that I’ll keep forever, the memories of love, joy, peace and innocence during a time that would otherwise be considered bad or at the very least not ideal.

There is a famous quote that I along with numerous other soccer fans have heard that goes “you play soccer anywhere, you play soccer everywhere” the phase actually says “football” but for the purposes of this we’ll say soccer. The game is simple, right? Score and do not get scored on. The Truth is: yes, it is simple; but the difficult part is what’s left unsaid, the little things that make the game just so beautiful. The buildup, the passionate moments, the joy, the rivalries; these are all things that every fan and player all across the world can relate to. They have been numerous stories of soccer saving communities and bringing people together because as they say no matter how you’re raised or what culture you subscribe to, just like people are people soccer is soccer always. I remember reading a story about one of my favorite soccer players ever, Didier Drogba; unfortunately people from Africa are used to hearing stories of and even experiencing war or civil unrest. Even with him being from the Ivory Coast, where they had gone through extreme civil unrest, he was always representing his home country. "Come to Abidjan, Alex. You will not be disappointed.” he was quoted as saying to a reporter asking about his native country.   Civil war had been happening for five years in the ivory coast when, right after leading his nation to the 2006 World Cup finals in Germany back in October 2005, he picked up a microphone given to him by a reporter in the dressing room and, surrounded by his team-mates, he fell to his knees live on national television. He begged both fighting sides to lay down their guns and, within a week, his wish had been granted. "It was just something I did instinctively," he said. "All the players hated what was happening to our country and reaching the World Cup was the perfect emotional wave on which to ride." Didier Drogba proved exactly what I have been saying about the power and passion soccer brings into the lives of its fans. In front of everyone in the world and his native people, he got on his knees and pleaded for peace. I can’t think of any other sports that could possibly do that, five years of deadly civil war, ended just like that. As a fellow African watching this unfold on TV, this further inspired me as well as other young African kids to play.

In 2011, when I moved to Houston, I went from merely watching soccer being played to actually playing it. Besides the occasional after school sessions of just the kicking of a peeled over leathery ball, I was never able to fully experience the true essence of the sport. Because not only was it hard to find a suitable environment to play but finding a ball was also almost always impossible as well. Going into middle school I knew that although we did not have a proper team I wanted to be a soccer player, if not professional (I knew at this point I surely could not be a professional player) then at least I could be competitive within the local club or school scene. After I somehow survived three long years in middle school without a sport to play it was finally high school and I would get a chance to play. Quotes like Tony Adams’ - “Play for the name on the front of the shirt, and they will remember the name on the back” played back over and over in my head. At the time it almost seemed like making my high school JV b team was at all comparable to the years of years he spent on top of the sport.

Who is Tony Adams, you may ask? Well my dear, dear reader, Tony Adams is without a doubt the best captain arsenal football club has ever seen in all its 133 years of being a top tier team.  He was not only one of the reasons I became an arsenal fan but he influenced almost every part of my soccer career. I found myself studying almost everything he did in his prime, looking to emulate even the slightest bit of success from his greatness. I guess looking back now I think it’s clear to me that I desperately wanted to become someone better than I was. Someone more confident, more secure, maybe even just someone different than I was. I essentially tried copying every aspect of his playing style, even incorporating his celebrations as well. If I’m being honest I still sometimes have that feeling of wanting to be someone else other than myself, although not as much as I used to. Honestly I believe playing competitively really forced me to legitimately discover who I was and be comfortable as myself. That being one of many reasons why I would recommend everyone participating in some kind of sport or physical activity. Not to mention the atmosphere and relationships I created along the way.

I find that there is a certain unique sense of community with soccer that just isn’t present in any other activity on the planet, or at least not one I have participated in. Now I do not claim to be some sort of super athletic multi-sport champion but I have played my share of sports and been in quite a few communities. I have played basketball and football, been involved in concert band, art club and even science club. In my humble opinion, in terms of love and support expressed in each community they all pale in comparison to this beautiful beautiful game. In fact the only good comparison that I’ve found seems to be within the jujutsu and kickboxing community which oddly enough is less violence orientated as you would think by just taking a glance in. predictably I have been enjoying the martial arts mainly for the community to the point where it has begun to be almost a religion like soccer was and still is.

Soccer or football (as it’s more commonly called in other countries) is of course a way of life in almost every country all over the world, but more than that I would say it is a religion of sorts. The U.S. is one of the very few places soccer is not hallowed so it is perfectly understandable that some people do not understand the extent of the love people have for this sport. This is the part where I would try drawing a connection to another sport, American football or baseball maybe? Truth is I would hesitate to compare soccer worldwide to any sport as a matter of fact, not just popular American sports. In my experience American football and baseball defiantly have an extremely loyal fan base, but the fans are naturally fickle at times even sometimes changing and switching over between teams. However soccer fans, real soccer fans at least, are often born into their respective team and stay loyal all the way till death. Just like any other religion switching over to another religion (or club in this case) is highly frowned upon and potentially even dangerous. Like most all religions throughout the history mankind, intense rivalries are an ever present theme usually dependent on proximity to the rival club as well as any minor disagreements that may or may not have occur somewhere buried deep in the history of both clubs. As an arsenal fan, of course I despise our rival club, the Tottenham Hotspur, although I will admitted that there are a couple of Tottenham players I enjoy watching and sometimes even root for. I think the first time I ever thought of soccer as like a religion was when I randomly ran into a you tube video comparing Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo, two players widely considered two of the best to ever play. The video creator spends the beginning portion of the video comparing both their stats for the past 12 years as well as their respected following. He then goes on for what seemed like eternity talking about sportsmanship and how well they have both individually represented the sport. Finally, at the end of the video, he comes up with the conclusion that although the two players are absolutely the best to ever lace up their boots and step onto the field, Messi is the greatest. In his words, “Messi in all his glory is the God of football, with Ronaldo sharing his glory as Jesus or Muhammad”. This seems to have stuck in my subconscious, only revealing itself now after a couple of years after going mainly unnoticed by me at the time.

Before I started writing this memoir I would have never thought that I had this much to say about soccer especially since it is not as much a part of my life as it’s been in the past. I guess in a lot of ways I have changed and evolve into what I would consider a better, more self-actualized version of myself. With that being said, I think it makes sense that soccer isn’t as important to me; it has served its purpose in my life and I’m sure it will continue to. I am forever grateful to this beautiful game and all the wonderful memoirs it brought into my life.      

 Afterword.

The honest truth is at the beginning of this memoir I was not really going to try as hard as I maybe could have. I was procrastinating, only waiting till the last minute to finish each installments that was due. I think I was thinking about it just as a class project I just had to get done instead of an interest project. After the turning in the first installment of this memoir and getting back the feedback, I began using my free time to write and combine the texts. It is amazing how much I've retained over my many years of playing and watching soccer. it was really interesting bringing back the memories and ideas I had lodged somewhere in my mind. I think by actually caring about this project and the subject, I was able to not only dive deeper but also articulate better.    

[hermeticimp]

Underwater Ariel’s Your Eeveelution Tarot Spread - My Results

Hey! I’ve been meaning to do with this one for awhile and now I finally have the energy to sit down and do this. Eevee has always been one of my favorite Pokemon, so when I saw this spread by @underworldariel, I was ecstatic to try it!

I used both of my decks again in this reading: The Linestrider Tarot and The Arcana official tarot deck. Below is a picture of the cards.

Eevee - Current me 

I drew The Tower (L) and Six of Cups (A). Right now, I’m in the midst of massive changes and revelations. I’ve been delving more into my spirituality, which has forced me to come to terms with a lot of issues. It’s been intense and I’m still finding my path, but I know it’s for the best. I’ve already started to see some of the benefits. My revelations have lead me to explore my past, both in regards to past lives and past memories. Some unbidden feelings have been drawn up, but most of the past reminders have brought me joy. I know that exploring my past is a key to growth. I have to deal with past problems, confront them, and let them go. My personal history is important, but making sure I change from that past is equally so. 

Jolteon - What sparks my energy and revitalizes me?

I drew  Two of Wands (L) and Four of Wands Reversed (A). My spark lies in growing more independent, starting new endeavors, and cleansing my life of things that may be holding me back. Lately, I’ve been spending more and more time considering what I want versus any expectations of what I should do. I’m pursuing a path that best suits my needs and interests. I’ve always been rather indecisive and worried about how others might feel about what I do. All that’s done is made me doubt and ignore myself. I’ve been feeling a lot more energetic and excited since I’ve turned away from that. That’s led me to start deciding what it’s time for me to leave behind. It make shake up my stability and old habits, but hey, out with the old, and in with the new. 

Flareon - What inspires your drive and passions? 

I drew Four of Pentacles Reversed (L) and Eight of Cups Reversed (A).  My drive and passions are inspired by material desire and trusting my instincts. Let’s face it: I enjoy beautiful and new things. I like to surround myself with things that either remind me of myself or of the beauty of the world. It’s my way of dealing with my fears of the world and my own insecurity. It’s a trait I have to work on though because it can lead to danger if I end up overspending. Beyond earthly pleasures, developing my intuition is a huge driving factor with me. I want to push this ability to its full extent, but at the same time, I know I shouldn’t let my passion get ahead of me. I’m working at the right pace for me and I’ve seen plenty of results. I’m just excited to see where I’m going to end up. 

Umbreon - What’s the shadow side of you that nobody sees?

For this, I drew Strength Reversed (L) and The Devil (A). How apt, is the first thought that comes to mind for a question like this. The side of me that nobody sees my inner strength and my perceptions. I am a strong person. I know this for a fact. Even when I get hit with my depressive episodes or anxiety, I know I can handle it. People tend to underestimate what I can and can’t deal with. It’s rather irritating to be seen as capable in one scenario, but needing to be treated like a child in another. I’ve dealt with a lot of crazy shit on my own, shit that set me down to the depth of my spirit in despair. But guess? I’m still hear, kicking and crawling my way back up every time. The flip to this is that everybody doesn’t see just how much I can doubt myself and how dark my mind get. I can hurt myself like nobody else can. Overcoming that has been part of my journey to hell and back. I have so many self-imposed boundaries that have hindered me. No one has seen just how desperate and dark they’ve made me and they never will. Slowly but surely I’m ripping each of those boundaries apart. Only time will tell what will happen then. 

Leafeon - How am I blossoming and growing? 

I drew Queen of Pentacles Reversed (L) and Nine of Pentacles Reversed (A). Right now, I’m blossoming into someone who is more compassionate, loving, understanding, nurturing, and productive. This period in my life has given me plenty of opportunities to expand on my skills and outlook. The more I experience and come to understand, the more my nurturing side evolves. I’m aligning with the Universe and opening my heart. I’m coming to understand what I’m capable of and how to achieve that. This is a time for me to work hard and push forward, to embrace my prosperity. I must also be careful not to be so preoccupied with my moving forward and avoid the relationships that important to me. Those are just as vital to my life as anything else.

Sylveon - What is my magical talent on Earth?

I drew King of Swords Reversed (L) and The Chariot (A). My magical talent lies in my intellect and drive to succeed. Even if I may not necessarily consider very ambitious, I know what I want and I go after it. I utilize my logic, strength, courage, and wisdom to explore my desires, see what’s feasible, and implement a method to achieve it. I’m in control of myself and my destiny. Sometimes, that also means knowing when to let go. As good as I might be at being rational, I also know that cultivating my intuition is equally important. I’m aware of when and where to use one or the other and when to use both. I’m here to succeed at my mission and use what I learn to advise others. That’s where my truest abilities lie. 

Glaceon - What’s something that I need to ice out of?

I drew Death (L) and Page of Swords (A). Something i need to ice out of is holding onto the past and letting others dictate my path for me. This theme has already come up. I’ve let so many things from the past remain unresolved and as a result, they’ve dragged me down. Finally learning to make peace with them will let me move on. I also feel Death is telling me that, even though I’m experiencing changes, I need to realize i’m not really becoming someone else so much as I’m becoming who I already am. I need to let go of the idea that I’m changing into a radically different person. All the messages I’ve got lately is that everything I need are the things I already have. I’m not being told to do anything but trust in myself and what I can do. I’m not being told I need to become a new me. This message resonates deeply. I already understand so much... I’m just letting insecurities cover that up. The Page is reminding of that along with not letting others hinder me. Spiritually, I’ve been wanting to post more here about my own ideas. However, I see how judgmental people can be, which makes me hesitant to. The Page is telling me to ignore that. I know how I feel and why. I understand my beliefs better than anyone else and they come from a place of deep reflection, research, and intuition. I don’t need to worry about those who might criticize me, but to focus on saying what I need to and knowing who needs to hear it will. 

Espeon - What’s an innate fact of me that my soul knows?

I drew Wheel of Fortune (L) and Ace of Pentacles Reversed (A). An innate fact that I know on a soul level is my ability to take things as they come. Or in other words to go with the flow. Now, this isn’t to say that I just passively accept things as they come. It means that I know how to adapt to the circumstances that have come at me. If there’s one thing I’ve never doubted much about myself, it’s my resiliency. When dealing with things, people have told me how admirable it is that I’m still a loving and strong person despite what I’ve gone through. I kind of shrugged it off, usually because I felt it was nothing special. Others have dealt with far, far worse. It’s just how I am. Nonetheless, it’s something I appreciate. Even in the lowest moments, there is a part of me that knows that it’ll blow over. I’ll get through it, just like everything else. My episode will pass, these horrific memories will pass, the exhaustion and self hate will pass. I know how to adapt and survive no matter what the circumstances are. 

Vaporeon - What is something that is powerfully fluid about me?

I drew Nine of Swords Reversed (L) and Page of Wands (A).  And now we come to the very last set. My mind and energy are incredibly fluid. I’m a naturally anxious person. I have GAD. My mind runs at a mile a minute and it can be a Herculean task to get it to calm. However, it’s something I can work with. Even at my worst, I know how to adapt and still get what I need to get done completed. Whether it be school assignments, basic chores, adventuring, emotional turmoil or whatever, I know how to work with it. The human mind is capable of some incredible and unbelievable things. When I despair, I channel it into my writing, my art, or my musical skills. It’s something I can transform into something positive instead of just letting it eat me alive. My energy is similarly adaptive. I have intense highs and lows, which I work with. Understanding how these aspects of me work allows me to accomplish my dreams. I dash forward in my bursts and fall back in my lows. It’s what keeps me working my way up. 

So those are my eevelutions in full. I had a lot of fun with this! Spreads like this make me want to delve more into pop culture magic, tarot, and self reflection, so thanks to April for creating and sharing this! I’ll have to try my hand at this kind of thing sometime in the future, maybe pretty soon~. 

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of Marvel: Week of August 21st, 2019

Best of this Week: Tony Stark: Iron Man #15 (Legacy #615) - Dan Slott, Jim Zub, Juanan Ramirez, Francesco Manna, Edgar Delgado and Joe Caramagna

Tony Stark may not be the man he says he is anymore.

Since the landmark 600th issue of Iron Man, Tony Stark hasn’t been entirely sure that he is actually himself and not just a strange collection of nanobots and machines strung together in the form of the billionaire tech wizard. After the horrible incident surrounding eScape, Tony Stark’s virtual reality world, leads to the deaths of a few people and millions or more in property damage, Tony has to take the stand and address what exactly happened. 

He’s grilled pretty thoroughly on what an AI is and how much was his responsibility vs. how much can be blamed on Controller, the supervillain who hacked into the supposedly secure network and caused all of this damage. Overseeing the hearing is a surprising character from another mechanical superheroes past. Senator Miles Brickman, a character that originally appeared as something of an anti-machine/anti-AI character in the pages of Machine Man’s original series, it livid and irate at Tony Stark. Showing a bit of prejudice in his questioning, he asks has Tony Stark ever made any changes to his body using technology, then follows by asking “Can you prove that you’re not some form of artificial intelligence?”

Tony initially tries to dance around the question, but upon being reminded that he’s under oath, reveals that it is actually quite possible as his body was put back together cell by cell while he was in his coma. This shocks everyone, from Rhodey to Bethany Cabe, his head of security at Stark Unlimited, and even his brother Arno Stark who is watching the hearing from his office at Baintronics, the rival technology company.

AI Tony calls for a recess after a few snarky lines as we cut to Vision and Wonder Man arriving at Avengers mansion, thinking they’ve been called to assist in Tony’s hearing. Immediately some red flags might want to be set off with the characters involved, especially when Jarvis lets them in and soon after betrays them with a large piece of metal embedded in the back of his head with a familiar design. 

Things start to heat up as Brickman produces the Tony Stark AI that was used by Riri Williams while Tony was in a coma and asks does this fully functioning, autonomous copy have legal rights and responsibilities. What makes me so uncomfortable about this scene is that it plays on the fear of the unknown.

Brickman has tried to have Machine Man destroyed in the past and even knowing that Tony Stark has saved the world in the past, he’s not willing to consider that he still has right once it’s admitted that he may not be fully human anymore. In a way it mirrors some of our own discussions as it pertains to AI and whether or not we’ll allow them autonomy once they become advanced enough for it. There’s a whole discussion for sex robots that no one is qute ready for just yet.

The Wasp, Janet van Dyne, flies through a robot protest on her way to meet Tony for lunch and catches him talking to Tony AI. Tony AI agrees to be loaded into the Iron Man suit and they all fly off when suddenly they’re met with a gross amalgamation of Vision and Wonder Man fused together. Ramirez’s art makes him look so horrifying with only half of Wonder Man’s luxurious hair and cracking skin that’s as red as Vision’s. He rushes at Tony in a rage and promises to rip the human and AI halves of him apart, displaying an anger that neither character has ever presented. 

In the middle of their fight, Jarvis appears and zaps Janet, who was knocked out of the fight during the initial rush. He places her in his pocket and leaves thereafter. Tony and WonderVision continue their fight, destroying the robot protestors in the process. Tony realizes that they only way to stop them is to use a localized EMP which will also kill Tony AI. The technological Tony isn’t fazed and just tells Tony to kiss Jan a bunch and feel vaguely bad about it later.

Unfortunately, this leaves Tony in the middle of the carnage. He’s surrounded by broken robots, likely to take the blame for all of it and realizes that Jocasta was right, he only sees everything as data. He breathes a small sigh that he’s still alive and that WonderVision didn’t take Janet… until he can’t find her. We then cut to the surprising return of The Avengers greatest enemy as his new gambit to destroy Tony Stark and spark a new machine age is in full effect.

What I liked most about this issue is that Tony’s mistakes really catch up to him in a bad way. He’s always managed to skate by the skin of his teeth when his machines have gone haywire. While Brickman was being an asshole for the trial, he made a good point in that we don’t quite know if we can trust this Tony. Given what we as the audience know thus far, he’s falling hard. Almost going back to the drink, questioning his own existence, not even having the trust of the brother that’s been by his side since his appearance in the mid 2000s (in this universe).

And that ending, finally seeing the seeds of what’s been sewn for months now starting to take form, is always fun. I had wondered what happened to this character since Infinity Wars (2018) and I can’t wait to see where exactly this story is going to go and what the repercussions of that event will be. I also can’t wait to see how exactly he’ll scar Tony and his extended family now that he’s returned. High recommend!

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

Things were looking up for Otto Octavius. He had found a nice woman and was slowly falling in love, he had mended fences with Anna-Maria in a way. After the events of War of the Realms, he was a respected and loved hero in San Francisco and then it all came crashing down.

Runner Up: The Superior Spider-Man #10 (Legacy #43) - Christos Gage, Mike Hawthorne, Wade von Grawbadger, Jordie Bellaire and Clayton Cowles

After taking the lovely Emma on a swing through the city, The Spider-Man of San Francisco goes on to visit the child he saved all the way back in issue #4 and help his new adoptive parents get custody of him. These small moments of warmness are a far cry from the maniacal nature that we were once accustomed to from Octavius. Bellaire colors most these scenes in a nice, warm orange. Giving us this feeling of joy and some happiness for Otto… at least until he’s discussing having a child with Emma and she alerts him to the news report that asks if the SF Spider-Man is really Otto Octavius. 

Things start to spiral even further as Spider-Man is interviewed and dances around the question and the Brothers Grimm acknowledge that he hired them for some temp work if they went straight, alluding to the first arc of the book. Otto is furious, Anna-Maria gives him snark and Emma tells him that he needs to face things head on, getting in front of it all. He can prove that he’s changed. Unfortunately, Anna-Maria brings up the kid as an example of someone who he’s helped and he swings to the apartment to find the foster parents angry and the child sad that he lied. Normally Otto wouldn't think twice about lying to someone or omitting information, but looking into that child's eyes as he began to cry, Otto reveals that he lied because he wanted the kid to like him and they hug. 

Soon after, Otto is called back to Horizon University where he is known as Professor Tolliver. Max Modell is waiting for him as he's received an email telling him that Tolliver is actually Otto Octavius. Surprisingly to Otto, Max already knew. Max Modell may act like a goof, but he's not considered one of the brightest minds in Marvel for no reason. He ran a DNA test to confirm soon after his emergence and gave "Tolliver" a chance to prove himself a changed man and given that he has, he's been trying to help clear his name. 

With Max's security footage and his own enhanced suit, Otto is able to determine that it was actually Spiders-Man that sent all of the incriminating data to everyone. Once Spiders-Man realizes he's caught, the thousands of spiders that make up his form reconstitute until Ock defeats him and compresses the former Peter Parker's consciousness into one Spider-Body. After some pushing, Spiders-Man reveals that it was Norman Osborn's idea. This Norman Osborn, however, is from another dimension where he's the Spider Totem and his main enemy was a Green Goblin Peter Parker, if I remember right. 

Spiders-Man also tells Otto that Norman is in his own dimension, safe from harm. During the events of Spider-Geddon, the Web of Fate was destroyed, making dimensional travel much harder for Spider people. Octavius hits a wall until Anna-Maria comes out that she's saved a bit of Terrax's energy from the first arc in the Living Brain robot, in case Otto ever reverted. This makes him sink even lower, but ultimately he understands and tries to use the power to make a portal...only Norman planned for this and over loads the machine, causing it to destroy the building almost killing everyone inside if not for Otto. 

Otto manages to save Max and Anna-Maria, but is swiftly defeated and left for dead by Norman who was there the entire time. When Otto asks why Norman is doing this, he responds in the most Norman Osborn way possible by saying, "You insulted me."

Just when Otto Octavius was finding his place in the world as a hero, forces mostly belong his control have made their move in an effort to derail him. Otto finally seems happy, even helping out a young child that he absolutely has no obligation to and starting a budding new relationship with an older woman that's just as smart as he. Things were going well, he even got a key to the city for crying out loud!

But, as fate befalls all Spiders, his terrible actions in the past are coming back to haunt him. Who's to say that Mephisto doesn't have a little bit of a hand in this as well? We can only hope things turn out well for Otto in the end, but not before Norman makes things much, much worse.

[dxmedstudent]

Weird Asks that Say a Lot  Meme...

My friend the wonderful @meanwhileonwednesday suggested I fill out Every even number for the 'weird asks that say a lot', so here I am. Thanks, friend! XD

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

Chocolates.

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

At my first school? Artistically talented and perceptive (one teacher was very vividly impressed by my grasp of duck anatomy at like 5 years old). Then there’s the teacher at my new school who thought I had special needs because I was withdrawn (I was being bullied by most of the class, really); she was a new teacher and not really equipped to deal with that. By the end of primary school, I went back to being commended on my work ethic and smarts and artistic ability.

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Hmmm I think my work clothes are mostly a formal/preppy mix. With a little bit of boho thrown in, particularly when I’m at home.

8. movies or tv shows?

I prefer movies, because they represent a lot less commitment (America, please stop giving everything like 17 seasons, I beg of you!), however TV show episodes are shorter and easier to slot into your life than a full movie.

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

I was generally awful in PE. I liked benchball, can’t say that I was good in it, being yet another game where being short doesn’t do you any favours.

12. name of your favorite playlist?

Either my Kickass playlist, or my Reflective playlist.

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

Starburst.

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

Curled up, on my side, in a nice big armchair with my legs hanging off the side. Surrounded by pillows, and probably a cat or two.

18. ideal weather?

Picture this: it’s a sunny day; warm but not too hot. Maybe around 24 degrees celsius. There’s a warm breeze; it’s not stifling, and it’s not cold enough to make you shiver. The trees rustle with the sound of the wind; change is in the air. You can go out in short sleeves, perhaps with the thinnest of cardigans if like me your metabolism basically died 300 years ago.

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Depends on what I’m writing. I am the kind of ineffectual person who starts to write tings in a notebook, but also a couple of word docs. I have post- it notes for important things. I document ideas for my comic in a note/sketch book. I love doodling in my sketchbooks.

22. role model?

I never really had one, growing up. I guess the closest I’d get is David Attenborough.

24. favorite crystal?

My birthstone is ruby (which is red; my favourite colour!) however I also love opals; I love their irdescent (OK, opalescent, technically) sparkliness and the way they shimmer with lots of colours. I don’t see why everyone prefers massive diamonds when opals are like... so much cooler. I I don’t actually own any, but maybe one day I’ll be able to buy myself a nice one.

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Go for a nice long walk, take lots of pictures, have a picnic in the park. No, I lie, my favourite activity is roping someone I care about into doing it all with me, and having even more fun. 

28. five songs to describe you?

Home - Ellie Goulding Fight Song - Rachel Platten Working Woman’s Blues - Valerie June Alive - Bird Set Free My Medea - Vienna Teng

30. places that you find sacred?

Already been answered.

32. top five favorite vines?

Alas, hard to name off the top of my head. I mainly know vines from various compilations.

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

Right now? Thankfully none of them.

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

That’s impossible to say! Memes were a thing before internet memes became a thing. I’d say that ‘S’ shape we all drew in primary school? Nursery rhymes? Who knows.

38. lemonade or tea?

They don’t usually compete for my love, but i have tea more often than lemonade, purely due to availability reasons.

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

Some students climbed onto the roof.

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

Honestly? Skirt pockets. But being a woman, jacket pockets are usually woefully ineffectual and small. Trouser pockets are a bit better, but again usually small. Whereas if someone puts pockets on a skirt, they make sure they are actually proper pockets!

44. favorite scent for soap?

Maybe honey, or roses, or jasmine.

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

A baggy pair of PJs; I’m a dress for comfort kind of girl. Particularly since the places I’ve lived haven’t always been great in the heating department. I’ve been known to sleep in a hoodie when it gets cold.

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

I would like to be a berry, or maybe an apple. Something pinkish red. Sweet, and a little sharp.

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

Probably my little brother astounding me with how grown-up he is about things. He’s pretty awesome. Or my mum just saying something wildly, hilariously inappropriate XD

52. favorite font?

I love the Komika font family for my comic. I used to use Bookman Old Style, Book Antiqa, Georgia or classic Arial for essays and things like that, when they didn’t specify Times New Roman.

54. what did you learn from your first job?

Always call the med reg if you are stuck, be nice to the nurses and always help each other. OK, I did lots of volunteering in hospital before FY1. In which case my

56. favorite tradition?

My family/culture have a specific tradition on the morning of an exam/interview/life event where you fill a cup with water and a couple of plant leaves (Slavs love putting greenery into everything). You place it at the threshold,  and give it a good kick it with your dominant foot. It symbolises your knowledge flowing, and I guess it’s a good luck charm.. You also aren’t meant to look back (literally); because you should be focusing on the task at hand. As a kid it was a comforting good luck ritual, and I don’t think I ever really grew out of it.

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

I’m proud of my artistic skills, modest though they are. I enjoy creating, and I enjoy that I can make things to cheer up my friends, or things that people here can relate to.

By extension, I’m good with my hands, and that usually translates to picking up procedures and things like that pretty quickly at work. And yes, I love being able to get that cannula in (especially if it’s on the first go!)  when nobody else can. It’s a tiny, tiny thing, but it sparks a little joy. I can develop good rapports with people; which means I can help them to confide their problems, and can help them to feel better or to address things that are bothering them. It’s really mostly about listening and not being judgemental. I am proud that I can sometimes make people feel better, and feel listened to. I’m proud that I learned to try to work through my feelings. As a young person who was really quite stressed, I somehow learned how to apply what’s basically CBT to keep myself relatively sane, and I think it’s helped me a lot. It was only much later that I realised it was basically CBT when I was comparing notes with friends actually going through those kinds of therapies. I’m not perfect at it, and my mind tests me on a regular basis, but it helps.

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

I don’t know what I’d like to be in? Maybe a Ghibli film. I think I’d like that.  When I was at school, a close friend of mine just turned around and said “OMG, you’re just like an anime character”, to fervent agreement from my peers. I guess they meant one of those chirpy, ditzy shojo anime characters. I can still see myself as some shojo series heroine; frantically trying to keep it together under the pressures of magical girldom, being romantically inept, trying to fight off the baddie of the week whilst learning lessons about getting along with each other, being helpful and not being mean.

62. seven characters you relate to?

Right now? Sophie from Howl’s moving castle, Princess Carolyn from Bojack Horseman, Miranda Otto from D. Gray-Man, Elinor Dashwood from Sense and Sensibility, The Red Blood Cell from Cells at Work, Kiki from Kiki’s delivery service, and Aggressive Retsuko.

64. favorite website from your childhood?

I used to love looking at other people’s art on Elfwood or Deviantart.

66. favorite flower(s)?

Today I’m feeling the answer is lilacs.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Ugh anything bitter.

70. left or right handed?

I’m ridiculously right handed, but I’ve learned to use my left hand more effectively because of procedures etc. I’m really good with my hands, but my right hand takes over like 80% of the work.

72. worst subject?

PE in school, biochemistry at university.

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

At home, maybe a 3, because I don’t see the point in suffering needlessly. However at work I’ll do whatever it takes to keep functional including taking pain relief before it gets bad because I don’t want to have to deal with pain and an on-call. I’m not sure if the scale is logarithmic? I’d rate the worst pain that I’ve had 5 ot a 6, and that made me vomit and curl up into a ball and basically unable to do anything. But I can imagine pain that’s much, much worse than that was, so perhaps I just can’t thin

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

This kind of new potato salad my mum makes with onions. Raw onions are totally a trigger food for my IBS, and any time my mum feeds me anything full of onions, she’ll tell me I can take them out if they upset my tummy. And every single time I’ll pile even more onions into my plate because there’s no way I’m letting my gut dictate my life. Turns out, I’m even more stubborn than my IBS; I just don’t want to give up some of the foods that set things off. My GP once recommended a FODMAP diet, and having had a look at all the stuff I’d have to cut, I resolved I’d only start cutting things if my symptoms got really bad.

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

Honestly, I have no pretentions to snobbery. The best coffee is the one you get when you are about to collapse on a night shift, even if much, much better coffee exists in the world. And the best sushi is the plain supermarket one you get between on-calls to treat yourself, even if the one from a good restaurat is so much nicer.

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

I wear a lot of jewel tones, but I also wear a lot of earth tones, and I don’t really see them as being in competition. Rock all the colours!

82. pc or console?

Phone. XD I don’t play much on either, mainly due to time. Phone has the benefit of being in my pocket when I’m at a loose end on the bus, or at my parents’. I don’t sit down and make time to play, I play games in the stolen minutes here and there when I don’t have much to do.

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Classical music radio in the office (because it’s the most neutral), retro stations in the car (or whatever your guests would like), and podcasts at home when you are by yourself.

84. barbie or polly pocket?

I didn’t have a real Barbie (fairly sure ours were knockoff dolls) but I do have fond memories of making outfits for our toys. Though our favourites were always various little animal models who got into all sorts of adventures.

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Cookies, but it’s a close call. Really, I’d have to say biscuits, since I eat those more often than either of the above.

88. your greatest wish?

For myself? To be happy. For others? Ditto. 

90. luckiest mistake?

Getting into my first degree. Feels like I fell into it, but it set me off on a great path, and I don’t regret that my initial path was far from straightforward.

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

All of the above.

94. favorite season?

That kind of Spring-Summer interface when all the plants are in bloom, and the weather is warm but not too hot, and the days are long.

96. desktop background?

Arietty’s bedroom from the Ghibli Borrowers film adaptation. I’m a sucker for ghibli aesthetic; usually because my rooms end up similarly haphazardly adorned with cool things. 

98. favorite historical era?

Every era has its own awesomeness. I feel very fondly for the regency period because of all the books I’ve read set in it, likewise the Victorian period. Though both aren’t without their problems. I realised that I style my hair like a Victorian; centrally parted with a neat, low bun at the nape of the neck. XD

I think that might be all the questions! Phew!

[average-guy-reviews]

The Warrior 2022

This is the tale of a young Doctor, Satya, coming to Kurnool city to start a role as an intern in a hospital. He crosses paths with a group of men who work for Guru, who is the crime boss that runs pretty much everything, and everyone, in Kurnool. This is the story of what happens next.

I am in no way an expert in cinema, and most definitely not in the cinema of South Asia, so some of this review will only be based on my limited experience of watching movies from that region.

That being said, I think, it is widely known that South Asian cinema has expertise in a very specific style of movie making, and this matches my own experience of watching these films over the years. It uses big choreographed song and dance numbers, usually peppered throughout the films, and when there is violence and fighting it is hyper-stylised and doesn't hold back. This is done in a way that western movies simply can not match, and i have to say it is better because of it.

The Warrior does not skimp on either aspect of this and, honestly, it is a glorious film. The cinematography is brilliant. The film is vibrant and full of action, as well as moments of extreme pathos and comedy. Admittedly I watched it through the eyes of a very western man. I don't know how this film has been received in its home territories and surrounding areas, but I hope it was looked at well.

The two main characters, Satya and Guru played by Ram Pothineni and Aadhi Pinisetty respectively, have decent arcs and are both fully fleshed out. Satya is a young, naive doctor who finds himself in a situation he would never have expected to have faced and does what's needed to overcome it. Guru is a literal moustache twirling villain in the best possible way. Despite him being a violent crime lord I really liked the way he came across on screen.

The main love interest for the protagonist is the whistling radio DJ Mahalakshmi, played by Krithi Shetty. It is her and Satya that dance in the big numbers, and both of them flow across the screen showing a multitude of dance styles as well as singing. I absolutely loved the dances and it was a nice change to watch these moments of joy, elegance and pure passion for the arts, as they appeared at various times.

Kurnool city is almost a character in itself, alive with the hustle and bustle of daily life. It looks incredible on film, but shows all aspects of life there as the cameras move around. I'll be honest that I had to google to see exactly where it was as it wasn't a city name I was familiar with, and that is something I'm almost annoyed at myself for having had to do.

Can I honestly say if this is a good film? I'm not sure if I have that ability, but what I can say is that i enjoyed it immensely and will, if it is in the cinema long enough, be going back to watch it again. There were moments I hid behind my hands, moments I cheered, and moments of 'holy shit'.

I do need to mention the run time though. Overall it is nearly three hours long but, doing something western cinema stopped doing years ago, there was an intermission about half way through. A great time to go to the bathroom or get fresh snacks. Despite the intermission the run time didn't seem too long, and I could have sat through the whole thing in one go.

Because of all of that I'm giving it a 9/10, with a full recommendation to go watch it, with a caveat that it is subtitled so just be aware of that. It has sparked me to seek out more south asian cinema in the very near future.