#details like that remind us that silver is compassionate and is loving--but he has to hide it to keep order and to keep himself safe

[hood-ex]

Silver from Treasure Planet is such a good character.

[fancyfade]

Comparisons of the origin of Themyscira/Paradise Island

I do not claim this to be a comprehensive guide, these are just focusing on the origins I have read recently and am most familiar with. Comparison of Golden age (All Star Comics #8 and Wonder Woman vol 1#1) tellings, silver age telling (wonder woman vol1 #105), and New Earth telling (Wonder Woman vol2 #1)

All Star Comics and Wonder Woman vol1 #1 are pretty similar. the main difference is Wonder Woman #1 goes into more detail, and in All Star Comics, men are not explicitly forbidden from entering the amazonian city.*

Here you can see in All Star #8, they take him to a hospital in the city.

After that, we have some basics that are established:

Amazonia is the most powerful nation in ancient Greece and women rule.

Heracles sees this as a challenge and tries to conquer them. HIppolyte challenges him to single combat b/c she knows she is undefeatable due to her magic girdle that Aphrodite gave her.

Heracles tricks Hippolyte out of her girdle after being defeated - but we don't see how. Then, the Amazons are enslaved by Heracles' men and Aphrodite does not help, because she is mad at HIppolyte for "having succumbed to the wiles of men".

Eventually, Aphrodite agrees to help and they overthrow the men, take their fleet, and leave for another shore because Aphrodite wants them to establish a new world of their own and always wear the bracelets fashioned by their captors as a reminder to keep aloof from omen.

Okay, next origin. most of the details will be the same, because it's the same author, just more in detail

This builds on. We get why Amazons were created:

Aphrodite and Ares were at war. Ares has his men who kill weaker men and keep women in slavery, Aphrodite makes the Amazons to be stronger than men and have the power of love. She gives her magic girdle to their queen so they will be unconquerable.

Ares has Heracles go after the amazons and heracles challenges the queen to personal combat. she defeats him and says she will spare his life if he promises to leave and he invites them to a banquet in friendship. After the banquet, he asks Hippolyte to hold her girdle and she says she knows she shouldn't but she can't resist him, and he and his men capture the Amazons.

in this one, Aphrodite comes to Hippolyte the first time she pleads to her, but says she must wear the wrist bands always to teach her the folly of submitting to men's domination.

the silver age comic, Wonder Woman #105, is super weird. It starts with Aphrodite, Athena, Hermes (Mercury), and Heracles visiting baby Diana and giving her powers.

We don't get a ton of explanation but it seems as if the Amazons were just like any other Greek nation and then all the men died?

Anyway, because of this they decide to start building a stout ship that will take them away from terrible wars. they sail around a bunch and young diana uses her powers to save people from disaster, then when getting to Paradise Island they sail through the mists of eternal youth, which Athena tells them will keep them young provided they never leave Pardise Island.

It does not fit well with Golden age or New Earth telling

OK so New Earth telling, Wonder Woman #1 (vol 2).

It starts with Ares and Artemis each proposing ways to make man worship the Greek gods. Ares says through force, Artemis proposes making a new race of mortals, the Amazons, brave, strong, compassionate, to show men and women their place with each other.

The characters involved in the creation of the amazons are: demeter, artemis, athena, aprhodite, hestia, and hermes. they reincarnate the souls of women whose lives were cut short by man's fear and ignorance to create the amazons

artemis tells them their job is to lead humanity, and athena grants them wisdom, she grants them skill in the hunt, demeter makes their fields always fruitful, hestia builds them a city, and aphrodite grants them love. she gives them both gaea's girdle (so there are two copies) which represent the trust the goddesses place in them

man fears the amazons, because they do not control them.

Ares manipulates Heracles into going after the Amazons by offending his ego. Heracles and Hippoltye fight after Hippolyte tries to give Heracles the opportunity to embrace peace, he refuses and gets his ass kicked, she tells him to surrender or die and he pretends to be won over. he and his men trick the amazons and drug them and capture them.

Athena shows up to Hippolyte to say she has failed herself by withdrawing from mankind rather than leading it. Hippolyte says she wants bloody vengeance on Heracles, Athena says not to take vengeance and to cleanse her soul and rededicate herself to "that which gaea gave you" and then she will be free. Hippolyte leads teh amazons against Heracles' men and they kill them all. Hippolyte says no more vengeance after this, Athena has a ship for them to leave on, Antiope, her sister, says she takes nothing from the gods.

The amazons are tasked with guarding the unspeakable evil that lies beneath themyscira due to having forgotten their purpose, and they have to wear the symbols of their bondage as a sign never to err again. the amazons are told to let no mortal man trespass on themyscira.

Anyway, both WW vol 1 #1 and WW vol 2 #1 had the theme of Ares vs one of the goddesses of the Amazons, but it changed which goddess it was. the silver age is the odd one out in the basic set up, but the new earth one is the odd one out in that themyscira has some element of punishment for the amazons.

*even in WW#1, Men are not forbidden from setting foot on Paradise Island and it's not like anything bad happens if they do.

[ramblingguy54]

Sonic & Tails R: A Love Letter To Miles Tails Prower’s Characterization

     Warning: This will contain massive spoilers for the short radio play series of Sonic & Tails R. If you haven’t listened to the radio play yet on Youtube, I’d highly recommend any hardcore Sonic fan who hasn’t seen it check it out. It’s one Hell of a treat.

     For as far back as I can remember in my childhood, Tails’ story of trying to step outta Sonic’s shadow has been such a resonating one for myself. Even when I was a much younger kid playing my Dreamcast, during entries like Sonic Adventure 1 & 2, there was some idea lingering about why Tails just stood out more emotionally in his journey to grow beyond depending on Sonic all the time for help. Now here I am a young adult in my late twenties having such a deeper appreciation of this little two tailed genius kiddo because he’s got an important element that’s made him so beloved for good reason.

     In spite of his genius being a rival to that of Eggman’s high IQ and of course proving to surpass it plenty of times when scenarios boil down to being a high stakes battle, Miles Tails Prower beneath it all is still just like any one of us. We’re all trying to find our place in this world about what defines us for who we are as unique people. He wants to be more than just seen as someone who’s alongside Sonic The Hedgehog’s never say die attitude, but prove he’s plenty capable of standing on his own two feet to protect everything the kid holds dear to himself. Underdog stories, when they’re naturally executed very well, can reel me in so easily. They are very much my bread & butter trope I adore seeing.

     To no one’s surprise, the two Sonic Adventure’s iterations portrayal of Tails’ characterization are hands down some of my favorite writing for the two tailed fox, regarding what the 3D era has done toward him, development wise. It gave him more of an existential struggle to endure like, “What happens when Sonic isn’t around to help stop Eggman? What if I’m not strong enough to accomplish what he can?”, making Tails plight to be seen as an equal all the more endearing when stopping Eggman in his climatic battle against the Egg Walker in Station Square. This here is a great use of a timeless lesson you can apply in life that if you set you heart and mind on anything, there isn’t a thing you can’t accomplish on your own, which is why many fell in love with Sonic Adventure 1 & 2′s writing for Miles Tails Prower’s journey of independence.

     As someone who comes from a large family tree of relatives, I feel the weight of my existence on my shoulders at a number of points more than I’d care to count, admittedly. Seeing Tails struggle with his sense of purpose, in contrast to observing how much Sonic has accomplished with his carefree, yet deeply compassionate attitude, means the world to me in watching another trying to comprehend their value as a whole on how much they matter, overall. This is a big part of why my fondness for SA1 & 2′s quality has never wavered over these years, besides still obviously enjoying most of their game play mechanics. People can try to debate to their heart’s content on whether the Adventure games still hold up in their own eyes, but I’ll always respect them for how they tried to develop certain characters, such as Tails, Gamma, and Shadow The Hedgehog notably, to attempt expanding upon their characters, as well as world building.

     I won’t bother going into a rant about how Sonic’s recent 3D games have butchered Tails’ personality & relatable nature, due to the current writers in charge of handling the cast of characters. More or less, I greatly empathize toward the notion many have already stated about Tails being so cowardly and God forbid, looking at Lost World, downright severely mean spirited. Rather, I’m obviously writing this lengthy post to breakdown why Sonic & Tails R succeeds, where these certain 3D games have greatly faltered in exploring Tails’ emotional dilemmas as an insecure, yet still having the courage to prove himself, talented boy full of hidden potential he doesn’t quite realize, until his back is against the wall in life threatening situations.

“That day, I realized I couldn’t depend on you forever. Not that I can’t depend on you, but like, “What happens when Sonic isn’t here?”, you know?”

     Sonic & Tails R further delves into this fundamental rule of what has defined Tails in Sonic Adventure 1 & 2′s stories of events where Sonic wasn’t there to aid his best bud in taking down Eggman’s evil efforts for global domination, most importantly his fear of defending the Earth without his role model. Besides what I already stated in SA1′s events in Station where he stopped the Egg Walker, as well as the missile Eggman launched from detonating before their climatic battle, Tails watched Sonic blow up in ARK’s capsule presuming him to be dead after Sonic imparted how much faith he has in the kid’s abilities to be truly strong in the face of any foe. Sonic & Tails R manages to use fan service in a way that doesn’t feel like “pandering” for the sake of it, using this past canon material to do more of an in-depth study about Miles’ anxieties of existing without Sonic.

     Wouldn’t put it past them if EmuEmi & crew were using SA2′s Sonic death fake out scene in that space capsule to further add trauma to Tails’ psychological attachment to Sonic, as well as his insecurities of depending on him too much, to boot. While it’s never obviously outright stated in their radio play, I definitely believe they were factoring this element into adding dramatic exploration for why Tails is so self-conscious about the worst case scenario of permanently losing Sonic. Watching Sonic supposedly die put Tails into a deeper state of self-reflection, so I very much enjoyed how they went using these past events to create a thorough exploration about him learning just as it’s important to realize you need to stand up for yourself without using someone else as a crutch all the time, it’s doubly important to remember there’s nothing wrong about asking someone for help when you’re about to be down and out with little options left.

     Sonic & Tails R beautifully builds upon the foundation these two games’ stories left behind years ago, creating new damn great material to explore with the most iconic characters of this cast, Sonic & Tails brotherly dynamic. I’ve been praising Sonic & Tails R out the wazoo for how well it captured Tails underdog story of overcoming death defying odds, but it managed to remind me how simply adorable and outright wonderfully endearing their brotherly chemistry is as a whole. This is a big friendly reminder Sonic isn’t all about being cocky wise cracking character making meta jokes left and right, but he can be plenty capable of showing serious compassion to anyone he values as an ally and friend. This is no greater evident, than with him verbally lifting Tails up in his time of need when he’s self-depreciating his own significance. It can be seen in Episodes 2, 4, and 7 giving Tails motivational pieces of advice.

    Episode 2 In Adabat’s Cavern

-Sonic: Wasn’t it your radar that helped us find these Emerald shards in the first place? How could you be slowing us down when you’ve gotten us this far?

-Tails: But, I...

-Sonic: I could never make something like that. You’re the smartest person I know, Tails. One way or another, we’ll figure this out, count on it.

         Episode 4 In Holoska After Helping Silver Save The Chao

-Sonic: So, what was that back there? At the cave, in Adabat? -Tails: What do you mean? -Sonic: Frozen stiff. Confidence shot. It’s not like you. It was more than feeling like you were “slowing us down”, right?

        Episode 7 Inside The Egg Carrier 3

-Sonic: Let’s split up! I’ll distract them and you can go after the energy source. -Tails: You’re gonna take them on all by yourself!? Let me help, Sonic! -Sonic: No time for this, Tails. Stop overthinking and just go! If I can get their attention, I’ll take the heat off of you and that room you’re going to probably won’t have any security. Take this emerald and I’ll take the other one we have. It’ll lead me right to you after I beat these guys. -Tails: O-Okay... -Sonic: Hold on, Tails! Listen to me. Don’t stop moving and be careful. I’ll be fine and so will you!

     Sonic & Tails R remembers the most crucial detail of their important relationship. One isn’t better than the other and needing to always rely upon that notion for helping one outta a jam, but instead showcases how they’re equals as a team/bros. Sonic may be super fast and strong, however Tails has his intelligence to analyze situations in a different angle Sonic wouldn’t necessarily consider, per say. Which isn’t to say Tails couldn’t put up a fight either, as we’ve seen in SA1 & SA2′s stories where he faced Eggman one on one with no outside help to best him at his own game of wits & strength.

     We get see the apex of this idea through Tails facing Eggman in his super improved mecha walker. Although Tails may get thrown for a loop here at first by Eggman, it’s his villainous speech about winners and losers in their world that ironically does the exact opposite of what he intended. Eggman wanted to crush Tails’ sense of self worth before finishing him off, but all it did was reignite the very lesson Sonic told him earlier before running to distract Eggman’s robotic minions. That said lesson of he’s more than capable of facing dangerous threats

-Eggman: Poor boy. We all have to learn this lesson, sooner or later. In every game there’s no one you can depend on. You’re all alone and you’re either a winner, or a loser. And as you know, loser’s lose all of their lives. Say goodbye, fox!

-Tails: You’re wrong! I can depend Sonic! I won’t let him down! I can’t because...Because he’s depending on me! And because of that I won’t lose to you!

     This radio play strikes a good balance in utilizing the grey moral area about depending on someone vs it being an unhealthy display of attachment derived from serious insecurity. Word’s can’t begin to describe how much I loved this moment to pieces because it’s oh so important for writing Tails’ characterization. If you’re going to tackle him being super self conscious about his reliance on Sonic, then you gotta remember why they are so close to one another to begin with. Sonic & Tails have an unbreakable connection, considering they’ve brought out their best qualities in themselves from being together as individuals. For Sonic, it’s his older brother compassion to Tails to bring him outta feeling melancholy. For Tails, the kid finally understands there isn’t anything wrong with depending on Sonic when he needs it most.

     After all, that’s what a real healthy friendship is all about. Whether you’re giving someone a dose of tough love, or simply a piece of motivational advice, it defines how much you truly care about someone, period. Sonic & Tails have this very same power from their bond, which is why new emeralds form from their compassionate friendship that hasn’t been shaken after all the years they’ve been together. Another detail worth noting is it adds to the lore in an impactful manner when Tikal expresses in Episode 8 about positive connections and thoughts from users of the Chaos Emeralds having a strong will & heart. Using the ideas they had for encapsulating Sonic & Tails’ dynamic to create new emeralds from their love for each other as brothers adds an emotional weight.

“So, Sonic’s not the only one who harness the power of the Chaos Emeralds? I can too!?”

“Yes, you have a strong heart! There is a power waiting to be unlocked within you, as well.”

          I’d always daydreamed about in my childhood seeing Super Sonic & Tails take down a threatening villain, whether it was Eggman or different powerful creature such as Chaos or the Biolizard. You can imagine how fucking giddy I was beyond belief to see this artwork of Episode 9′s cover for the radio play. Tails not only got to have another one on one with Eggman, but a team up with Super Sonic in his own respective Super form? Sign me the Hell up! Talk about an all you eat buffet of good writing for Tails’ journey reaching its climax. Getting to hear this play out, alongside the amazing song of Fly With Me, made it authentically feel like something straight outta if there were an installment of Sonic Adventure 3 being brought into reality, which certainly feels like it now.

     Episode 9 has so much awesome stuff with Sonic & Tails working together in their super forms. Particularly, my favorite scene is at the beginning when Sonic teaches Tails how to navigate his newly acquired speed in his respective Super form. My heart melted hearing Sonic help Tails through it all, while he was overjoyed about how fun this new form is for himself. Wholesome Sonic & Tails content is the perfect daily serotonin for me, easily. It’s an awesome fun fact to know they used a scrapped boss from Tails Tornado segment in SA1 for Eggman’s flying dragon three headed robot in their big final battle, once again using old canon material in a very effective manner to boost the quality of their fan made story.

     It’s been a real thrill to hear Mike Pollock play a straight forward serious Eggman making my day in more ways than one, considering that’s another thing I’ve been yearning for desperately besides Tails being a competent character again. His performance in Episode 9 when Eggman gave that speech about how long he’s been at odds with Sonic & Tails stubborn will power was simply excellent. The moment he told his mechanical dragon to crush them I got serious chills. That’s the Eggman I remember and grew up with. He could be a hammy villain sure, but Eggman wasn’t a doormat that could be swiftly beaten. Robotnik can be considered a serious threat in his own right and this radio play nailed it down to the very letter with how much he predicted their actions.

“Sonic, all I ever wanted to do was be like you. You’re not scared of anyone or anything. I could never be like that. At least, so I thought. I grew from that, but then I got so caught up in trying to prove it that thought it wasn’t okay to depend upon anyone, especially you. I just didn’t want to be that scared little kid in Station Square anymore, but now I understand. It’s okay to depend on your friends. It all means is that we’re stronger together, so the next time Eggman comes back and wants to start any trouble with you, or any of my friends. Emeralds or no emeralds, he’s gonna have to get past me and he won’t!”

Sonic By Episode 1′s End: Aww, yeah! Adventure, here we come!

Tails By Episode 10′s End: Aww, yeah! Adventure, here I come!

Turn your thoughts into power. Be all that you can be.

     The ending legit got me choked up because what of they decided to do for wrapping up Tails journey in a poetic fashion. Having Tails go off on his own separate journey to grow more independence pulled on my heart strings perfectly. Very much so, as I’m transitioning slowly, but surely, into gaining more freedom to go out into the outside world in my own life. Concluding the story, by Sonic & Tails holding onto the two Emeralds their bond had formed from positive energy, due to their powerful friendship, was so heartwarming. This is how you write an overview of what makes Sonic & Tails chemistry work so well as it does.

     Sonic & Tails R’s ending represents while some things never change, like Sonic and Tails bond for each other, it also shows there’s very much a necessity for people to grow, hence Tails’ whole solo journey in the epilogue. People can’t stay in the same place forever and will need go about finding their own path, even if it means saying “goodbye” periodically for a notable amount of time.

     It’s for these reasons I’ve listed in great explanation above throughout this detailed post cement Sonic & Tails R high on my list of favorite Sonic fan projects. They captured the magic of what made the Adventure games so beloved. Gonna be looking back on this passion project for many years to come. Everyone involved in this year long effort of a project dating all the way back Summer of 2020 ought to be immensely proud for how much their hard efforts paid off in the long run.

Thanks for taking the time to read my thoughts here! 

Hope you enjoyed. 

[fernmoss]

Summer, Ruby, and The Hound

I made a previous post about The Hound and how there might be a connection to the fairytale of Little Red Riding Hood. After reading the notes on that post, as well as other posts and speculations, I wanted to make a more in-depth theory. 

Also, there is an enormous chance none of this is right at all, but it's still fun to make theories! 

I am also basing this theory on the Grimm brothers' version of the tale. In the story, Little Red Riding Hood goes to visit her sick grandma, but she is stopped by a wolf who convinces her to go off the path to pick flowers. The wolf beats her to the house, eats her grandma, and jumps into the bed disguised as her grandma. When Little Red Riding Hood arrives, the wolf tricks her and eats her as well. However, a huntsman who passes by saves them.

----- 

The most speculated part of The Hound theories going around is the belief that Summer could be The Hound.

A lot of people pointed this out already, but I'll mention it as well.

In the trailer, we see a shocked expression on Yang's face. FNDM speculated that it could be Ruby getting hurt or Oscar getting kidnapped, but what if it was about Summer? We know that Jaune, Ren, and Yang are going to chase after The Hound, so during that chase, the Grimm could say or do something familiar to Yang. Summer was her mom too. She would be able to recognize if something was similar to Summer.

Of course, this is all dependent on if The Hound can honestly be Summer.

----- 

What we know undoubtedly is that Summer went off on a mission and never came back. We know that she confronted Salem, based on what she told Ruby last volume. And we also know that she was presumed dead because of her grave in Patch.

We can also speculate based on characters and given information. Despite everything, I do believe Raven loved and cared about Summer. Therefore, she had a portal for Summer, but then one day realized it was gone. In volume 3, Qrow mentions that Raven keeps in touch from time to time, so Raven must have told Qrow that Summer's portal was gone, which would be confirmation for Tai and Qrow that she wasn't coming back.

In Red Like Rosses II, the lyrics indicate Ruby believes Summer died, "...was stripped away from me the minute that you died." Summer also sings back to Ruby, acknowledging that she's gone and left Ruby despite never wanting to cause her that pain. She also tells Ruby not to "waste your life in vain." Adding to the evidence that she died trying to confront Salem without any success.

The appearance of the new Grimm is also intriguing. The missing eyes might imply a connection to the silver eyes. We know that Salem used to have the silver-eyed people hunted and killed, like Maria, but she did not want Ruby dead. Salem could have figured out a use for the silver-eyed people, perhaps merging them with Grimm to make an even more sinister and intelligent monsters. There are also the wings The Hound sprouted, which looked similar to the wings Salem has in the opening. They also are different from the wings given to the Beringels, looking more like insect wings than bird wings.

More specifically, I thought they looked like butterfly wings. My yard is a hotspot for capillaries and butterflies, so the pattern on the wings looked familiar. And the way they came out of The Hound reminded me of when they hatch from the chrysalis. The last time we saw a butterfly was during the talk between Maria and Ruby about the silver eyes.

Another interesting detail is the behavior of the other Grimm. We know that they react based on instinct, and in that scene, they were afraid, running away from The Hound. The older and more intelligent Grimm typically lead the younger Grimm, but in this case, they flee before The Hound arrives. What is causing them to fear The Hound? Well, I'm assuming that maybe The Hound isn't purely Grimm, and the others know this and are afraid of it.

-----

Now connecting this all to the tale of Little Red Riding Hood, we have four main characters in the story, Little Red Riding Hood, her grandma, the Big Bad Wolf, and the Huntsman.

After Little Red Riding Hood and her grandma have been eaten, the wolf takes a nap. The Huntsman then passes by and sees the wolf asleep. He tries to shoot the wolf but notices that he has eaten Little Red Riding Hood and her grandma. He cuts them out instead. Once she is free, Little Red Riding Hood remarks on how dark it was inside the wolf and how much it scared her. When her grandma is free, Little Red Riding Hood fills the wolf's stomach up with stones and seals it close. Once he wakes up and tries to walk, the stones kill him.

Now Ruby is Little Red Riding Hood, but she can also fill the role of Huntsman. Therefore, when she is inside The Hound, she can cut her way out with Cresent Rose, a weapon known for cutting Grimm apart. Also, when Little Red Riding Hood mentions the darkness and how scared she was, this might be alluding to the opening.

We see Ruby falling into the darkness, being pulled by Grimm hands. Maybe this is inside The Hound. 

When using her silver eyes against the Grimm, Ruby can turn them into stone.

In the fairytale, Little Red Riding Hood uses stones to kill the wolf. So Ruby might use her silver eyes against The Hound.

Another important part of the tale is the relationship between Little Red Riding Hood and her grandma. In the story, Little Red Riding Hood is adored by everyone, especially her grandma, who always wanted to give her everything. Now, this leads to speculation on who the grandma could be if the wolf is Summer, and Ruby is both the Huntsman and Little Red Riding Hood. Pretty much every character comes to care about Ruby, as she is a kind and compassionate person. Still, the ones who love Ruby the most are her teammates, Weiss and Blake, and her family, Yang, Tai, Summer, and Qrow. 

We know that Qrow has to play some role in all of this. A lot of people noticed that Qrow's voice actor (Jason Liebrecht) is the one voicing The Hound. As pointed out by Luimnigh, it would have been easy for the Grimm's voice actor (William Orendorff, who is also Hazel) to play The Hound as well. Surely letting out a guttural "no" would have been no problem for him. But the choice to make it Qrow's voice actor is exactly that, a choice, a deliberate one. 

There are other signs of Qrow being the grandma. In the fairytale, the grandma is ill, Qrow is recovering from his alcoholism and is currently not in the best place mentally. Ruby and Qrow also share a special relationship. He is not only her uncle but also her teacher and mentor, the one who taught her to use a scythe and be a huntress. Qrow's Amity Arena summary mentions his love for Ruby and Yang is the only thing keeping him going, and it was the hope to protect them from further pain that made Qrow join them despite his misfortune. The wolf tricks Litte Red Riding Hood by disguising himself as her grandma. The Hound could do the same, by being smart enough to trick Ruby into a trap by mimicking Qrow's voice.

When asked about Volume 8, Lindsay (Ruby's voice actor) said that this volume has her favorite Ruby moment, which is a monologue. When summarizing the season, she said, "everything hurts," and "what?" 

The "what" summary seems like a feeling of disbelief to me. Lindsay mentions how much Ruby is affected by her mother's death, and she uses Red Like Roses II to get into character for more emotional moments. This volume has to offer some information about Summer. For Ruby, learning about her mother's fate will cause immense pain, but learning that her mom has been turned into a Grimm? Well, that would be unimaginable and could only be described by a broken "what?"

[miniherodesktales]

Loki and childhood trauma

TW for discussion of trauma, mental health, and ACEs.

[I’m in two minds about whether to publish this or not. It feels a little insensitive to relate a very real problem to a fictional character, on the other hand I think we should all be more aware of the effects of trauma on people - maybe this post will be helpful to some. So, if people do feel this is insensitive of me then I will delete this post.]

It used to be believed that babies and young infants would mostly be unaffected by traumatic situations simply because they would be unable to recall the details of the traumatic incident later in life. If you can’t recall the terrible thing that happened to you then it can’t hurt you.

But we know better now. 

Prolonged trauma can affect an infant’s brain development, having an impact on cognitive abilities, mental health and behaviour.

A child who has been traumatised may, for example, have difficulties regulating their emotions, understanding them, and being too impulsive. They may have problems with concentration and learning.

The silver lining is that professionals are better trained in spotting the signs of trauma in children and can help them overcome the impact of that trauma. It would take an expert to explain how, but trauma can be healed and reversed, giving the kid a better chance of happiness in life.

However, if that child is not helped they grow from being a traumatised child into a traumatised adult.

There is such a thing known as ACEs, Adverse Childhood Experiences. This is essentially a questionnaire or checklist that can be taken to give a score. It includes a wide range of experiences such as neglect, having a parent with mental health issues, witnessing domestic violence, etc. 

The majority of us will have at least experienced one or two ACEs in our childhoods.

The more ACEs you experienced the higher your score will be. It has been shown that those with higher ACEs are more likely to suffer ill health (like cancer), stress, alcohol and drug addictions, and mental health issues. And sadly a lower life expectancy.

Again, the silver lining is that if we are aware of what ACEs are and the long term impact they have on people, then we are better at identifying those who need help and then ensuring they get that help, reducing the negative effects and improving quality of life.

So, how am I relating this to Loki?

Well, of course, he is a fictional character and that character changes depending on who has written the script, but it is generally accepted that Loki is a wounded soul.

Sometimes people will lay all of the blame at Odin’s feet, but I think we have to remember that Loki was probably suffering trauma from before he was even adopted, which would have impacted how he behaved and related to his family later in life. And seeing as Asgard is a tough, warrior society it’s unlikely that they would have recognised that trauma and worked towards healing it.

We know for certain that Laufey abandoned Loki in the cold, to die alone. Which is bad enough for a helpless baby. But we also don’t know what happened to his mother. Did she die in childbirth? Did Laufey execute her for giving him a child that was too small? Either way, it was probably traumatic.

I’ve read somewhere that sometimes people have avoided adopting children who have a history of trauma because they would be unable to cope with the behavioural problems, so they adopt a baby instead, thinking that if they give that baby enough love and happiness the issues can circumvented. 

Unfortunately as we now know, those babies - even much loved - still faced difficulties and challenges in their regulation of emotions and cognitive abilities.

I do believe that Odin and Frigga loved Loki, but that may not have been enough to help Loki with his hurt and pain and trust issues. And of course lying to him and shattering his world was just another bit of trauma to add to the pile.

Loki is an important character to me because he’s a reminder to not judge people too harshly, you never know what they’ve been through or what pain they’re still carrying around. 

And he’s a good reminder that we should be compassionate to ourselves, too. Nobody is perfect and we’re all just trying to function in a harsh world. If you can forgive others then you deserve self forgiveness as well.

[thegoodgayshit]

Luz’s mother really doesn’t want to send Luz to camp. She knows once she leaves, there is no going back. But Luz has a knack for getting into trouble, and one day she stumbles into the same type of people her mother would have preferred she avoided. After helping Luz dissolve her high school bully into dust, Eda and Lilith know right away that this kid is just like them - a child of the gods. So Luz hops on a Pegasus and heads to Camp Half-blood, where she embarks on a dangerous quest that makes her both friends and enemies... and she might even save Olympus along the way.

Chapter Nine: I Kill the National Bird for a Flower Crown

Luz thought Antheia’s flower shop was lovely. It reminded her of those cottages her Mami had always wanted to buy in Vermont. The walls were made of stone and wood planks, all the décor was set in earthy neutrals, and there was a roaring fire stirring some kind of delicious stew.

Luz and her friends were instructed delicately by Antheia to sit in her living room on the soft plush couches. It was behind the cash register and check out, which Luz thought was an odd layout but knew better than to comment on it. Antheia waved her hand around the coffee table and a cup of tea and a tray of cookies appeared out of thin air. Once Luz got over her shock, she helped herself to them eagerly. The tea was perfect: and it was chamomile just like Antheia had said she’d needed. Antheia sat with them, watching them eat and drink with that same easy-going smile on her face.

The place was covered with flowers from head to toe. Some of them Luz recognized, like the pansies in the open window or the tulips (she was pretty sure it wasn’t tulip season) in the hanging basket in the living room. But there were other flowers she had never seen before, and quite frankly, she would have noticed if they did exist. There was an array of what looked like gold roses, a bucket of bronze hawthoria, and on the windowsill… it looked like a group of silver sprouts.

“Is that moonlace?” Willow awed, peeking over Luz’s shoulder for a better look.

Antheia smiled at Willow. “Always nice to meet a demigod with an interest in the beauty of flowers. Yes, before Ogygia was abandoned I went there myself to bring a few samples of moonlace back here. It’s incredibly rare.”

“It’s incredibly beautiful…” Willow sighed, clasping her hands together.

“Are you a child of Aphrodite, dear?” She asked Willow, who shook her head.

“Demeter.”

“Ah, just as lovely,” Antheia said eagerly. “Her children have always been fond of my gifts.”

“This is a lovely shop, my lady,” Gus started, but Antheia tisked gently and waved her hand.

“No need for formalities, Augustus. I am in your debt. You are here to do me a great service.”

Luz looked at Willow and Gus uncertainly, and Gus seemed taken aback. He gently set his tea down on the table.

“Pardon me, Antheia,” he said slowly, “what do you mean by a ‘great service’?”

The goddess looked momentarily taken aback before the smile quickly returned to her face. “Oh, of course, you wouldn’t have been told the full details, after all, I only heard this morning that you would be coming, so there was always a chance you were too preoccupied to put the pieces together.”

Luz looked at her friends again, but before she could open her mouth to comment that perhaps Antheia was mistaken, she had kept going.“My lady always did put her faith in the best kind of demigods, you know. After all, this problem has been going on for so long, and without my sisters to help me, I fear I would be too outmatched on my own.”

Luz was a little dense, but she realized what was happening the moment Antheia spun her hand and her cup of tea refilled.

“Aphrodite offered out services in exchange for the ride,” she said, and Antheia placed a gentle hand on Luz’s shoulders. The gesture immediately filled her with a feeling of warmth she hadn’t felt in so long. Her Mami’s trust, the love of her new friendships at camp, the home she now came to love. There was something else there too, but she couldn’t quite place it. The gesture immediately put her at ease, and she sunk into the couch cushions.

“You need not feign surprise to appease me, child.” She said soothingly, and Luz’s ear tickled as she spoke into it. “I am one of the Graces, an attendant to the goddess of love. I stand for the love and growth of humanity, both flowers and human love itself. I know that a group of kind and compassionate adventurers like yourselves would help me regardless of if you owe my lady. My lady knows this too, or she would not have answered the prayers of her children.”

Luz knew that she and her friends were on a tight schedule, and Antheia knew that too, because now she turned to Gus and Willow, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. Like Luz, they seemed to lean right into the touch, enamored.

“I know you are heroes on a noble quest. Lady Hestia is the fire of Olympus, and without her everything, we know dear will crumble. But my lady has bought you some time, so surely one side stop on your way won’t be too troublesome? In exchange, I will give you something to help with your adventure.”

Luz didn’t like the sound of everything she knew crumbling, but when she looked and her friends she knew their hands were tied. This was the deal the Blight twins had made with their mother, whether they had known it at the time or not. Luz and her friends would have to deal with the consequences.“Alright,” she said, though it wasn’t as confident as she would have liked it to be. “What can we do for you, Lady Antheia?”

She walked to the window, and Luz and her friends hesitantly looked up out it.

“I have stationed myself here, in Mt. Airy Forest,” she said, gesturing to the deep wood. “It is peaceful, but it is not without its pests. I cannot leave my cabin for long as long as the eagle roams the forest.”

“You want us to kill an eagle?” Luz blinked, shuffling nervously. “I’m pretty sure that’s against the law.”

“This is no ordinary eagle,” Antheia said seriously. “This eagle has plagued legends for centuries, and my sisters and I fear it deeply. I would like them to come to visit, but they will not unless this beast is destroyed.”

“The Caucasian Eagle,” Gus said, and Luz spun around to look at him. His voice had risen in pitch, and he looked very nervous. “But it hasn’t been seen in thousands of years!”

“It has returned, and I fear why,” Antheia confirmed. “It was not by the will of Zeus, and therefore it must be destroyed.”

“You want us to kill a white eagle?” Now Luz was really confused.

Willow nudged her shoulder seriously, and Luz quieted. Antheia opened the door for them, and the three demigods headed towards it, drawing their weapons. Aletheia shifted into its sword form, shimmering in the light of the shop.

“The eagle is likely up now, if you destroy it soon, you will be on your way long before the evening hits. If you return, I will have a reward ready for your great service.”

She all but slammed the door behind the three half-bloods, and now that Luz wasn’t all doved up with love magic, she scowled.

“I’m going to kill Edric and Emira when we get back.”

“If the eagle doesn’t tear us to shreds first,” Willow said slowly, gripping her sword tightly.

“It’s not going to be an easy kill,” Gus said quietly, fiddling with his spear. “The Caucasian Eagle was the one sent by Zeus to torture Prometheus. Hercules killed it with a volley of arrows. We’re short on those, so we’ll have to find some other way to get it to come close to us.”

The three of them paced around the forest outside the flower shop, keeping their eyes open for an eagle. But it was quiet on the forest floor, and after almost twenty-minute had passed, Luz was about ready to give up.

“I don’t see this stupid bird anywhere!” Luz groaned, lying down on the grass.

“Luz, be ready,” Gus hissed, looking around nervously. “We don’t know when it’s going to show itself.”

“Well, it hasn’t yet,” Luz shrugged. “Are we sure it’s even around here?”A deafening screech quieted her immediately, and Luz shot up, clenching her sword in her hand in terror. Out of the trees shot a massive bronze eagle, easily with a wingspan of at least ten feet wide. It came soaring down towards Luz, and out of pure instinct she swung, and the bird shrieked, spinning back up towards the sky.  

“Holy Zeus that’s a big bird!” Gus yelped, and he reached over to his watch and clicked it. Out expanded a bronze shield almost identical to the one he’d used during capture the flag. When the bird came rearing back towards him with its massive talons, he deflected them off his shield and Willow stabbed with her sword, and the beast spun, narrowly dodging.

“What do we do?” Willow yelled, and Luz ran to regroup with her friends. The bird soared above them, cawing in fury, and Luz quickly began to feel overwhelmed. It could easily carry off one of them in its talons, and they were sharp enough to cut one of them open right there.

“We need to damage its wings so it can’t fly!” Gus said, just before the beast lunged again. Luz rolled right, slashing up with her sword towards it right as its talons snatched right where she had just been standing. She yelped in pain as the edge of one talon scrapped over her shoulder as she rolled, drawing blood. Once again, the bird managed to dodge both Gus’s stab and Willow’s slash, soaring back into the sky.

They tried, but every time the bird lunged, it would spin and dodge their strikes to its wings. Over and over again, the bird would dive, and they would barely manage to clip feathers. Gus kept insisting they had to hit the wings, but there was no way to do it with the bird getting the height on them. It was starting to feel hopeless.

Then, on one tough lunge, the talon had managed to scrape by Willow’s leg, and knock her off her feet. Willow cried out in pain, holding her leg as it bled profusely, and Luz and Gus slashed angrily to get the eagle away as it soared back into the sky.

They ran to Willow, trying to give her cover. She was trembling next to Gus, clearly trying hard not to cry. The slash was long and deep, and Luz knew just by looking at it she would need stitches.

The bird was circling again, waiting to try and pick them off one by one. Luz felt her despair quickly turn to rage. It might have been the pain in her shoulder or the overall frustration with the way their mission had gotten sidetracked, but Luz was getting angry, and when she got angry, she got loud.

“Hey, you stupid bird brain!” She yelled, putting a little distance between herself and Willow. “Over here!”

The eagle cawed angrily, and suddenly, Luz had a plan. She turned her body so she was facing Gus, and waved her sword up at the bird.

“Come and get me!”

“Luz, what are you doing?” Gus hissed, clutching his spear uncertainly.“Trust me!” She just said, pointing her sword back up at the bird.

The eagle spun in the air, it’s sharp eyes pointing toward her furiously. It tucked back its wings, ready to dive.

“Get ready!” She yelled to Gus, and right as the bird was about to make contact with her, she screamed, “Now!”

There was a clang and a crash as the talons of the bird connected against Luz’s sword, and she pushed desperately to keep the bird steady. Then, the bird screamed, rearing back in agony as Gus stabbed right into its back with his spear, and it let go of Luz’s sword in an effort the fly away. But Luz was quicker, and she lunged, cutting right across the bird’s neck with Aletheia, and the bird quieted, dissolving into dust around her feet.

Luz collapsed onto the ground, panting heavily. Gus stumbled backward and sheathed his spear, walking over to Luz and helping her up. Luz winced, remembering the pain in her shoulder, but a cry from behind Gus quickly halted all her own pain at that moment.

“Willow!”

Luz and Gus kneeled around their injured friend, who was clutching her leg. When she looked up at their faces, she feigned a confident smile. “I’ll be fine, it’s not even broken…”

“Willow this is a deep cut,” Luz said seriously. She knew that her Mami would recommend a hospital. It was deep and still bleeding, and Willow’s hands were now covered in blood.

“It’s nothing nectar can’t fix,” Willow said certainly, and Gus walked around and reached into her backpack and pulled out a canteen from it, uncapping it and pouring some of the contents over the wound.

Luz had no idea what they were talking about and definitely didn’t think Gus should be putting that much water on an open wound. “Gus what are you-”

She closed her mouth at Willow’s happy sigh and watched in amazement as the wound began to close until all that remained was a white scar.

“Nectar,” Gus said to Luz with a smile, letting Willow drink a little from the canteen. She immediately perked up and stood, brushing the dirt off her pants. “Drink of the gods. It cures the wounds and illnesses of demigod’s but you can’t have too much or you’ll burn up.”

Luz didn’t like the sound of that, but Gus didn’t give her a choice. He walked over and poured some over the wound on her shoulder, and Luz felt a warmth flow through her body before he let her drink some. It tasted just like her Mami’s Sopa de Lima, which was strange since it looked just like apple juice.

All at once, Luz’s strength returned, and sure enough, when she looked the wound on her shoulder had disappeared. There wasn’t a scar left behind or anything. Even the scar from her game of capture the flag had disappeared.  

“Lighter wounds tend to vanish a lot faster,” Willow explained.

Gus closed the canteen and walked over to the remaining pile of eagle dust. Left behind was a pile of bronze feathers, and Gus scoped them up.

“One for each of us. Plus, we can give one to Antheia as proof of our kill.”

Each of them took a bronze feather, and Luz put hers carefully in her backpack, excited to add it to her slowly growing collection of war spoils.

The three of them headed back to the flower shop in much better spirits than when they left. Nobody had gotten hurt, and they still had plenty of time to get on a train or bus west.

“Mt. Airy is just outside Cincinnati,” Gus said with an excited smile. “We’ll be able to find a way west with no problems at all.”

“I don’t know, we’re pretty deep in the Midwest…” Willow said with a frown. “There won’t be many trains.”

“Whatever we have to do, we’ll make it work!” Luz said with a smile. “We just killed the white eagle-”

“Caucasian Eagle,” Gus corrected.

“Caucasian Eagle!” Luz repeated. “We can do anything.”

Sure enough, as they walked into the flower shop with the extra feather, Antheia greeted them with an enthusiastic welcome. She walked up and kissed each of them on the cheek, causing Gus and Luz to blush.

“Thank you, my heroes!” She said enthusiastically. “Now my sisters can visit me without being scared away by that hideous bird. My lady was right to favor you. Now, onto your reward…”

She waved her hand, and on their heads, they each received a flower crown, Willow’s adorned with green flowers, Gus with blue, and Luz with purple. They all cooed in excitement, reaching up to touch them.

“The crowns will wilt over time, but while you wear them you will have my blessing. In Ancient times, the Greeks worshiped me for my gentleness and kindness. You will find that people will treat you the same.”

“Lady Antheia, we are honored,” Willow said, and even Luz was shocked, reaching up to gently touch the flowers with her hand.

“Nonsense, I owe you, children, a great debt,” she said, and then like she was just remembering something, she snapped her finger.

“There is a man approaching in a car ready to take you to downtown Cincinnati,” she said with a smile. “He will do this free of charge, but you must not keep him waiting. I understand the seriousness of your quest, and though he is mortal, he will too.”

Luz and her friends all thanked Antheia, and they left her shop with her smiling from the door, waving a gentle hand.

“Good luck heroes, and oh, Luz?”

Luz turned her head while her friends kept walking, and Antheia shot her a knowing smile.

“Aphrodite has favored you above all others, especially on your quest, but your father has not forgotten you. Remember this on your journey.”

Luz blinked, wondering if Antheia could see through her more than she originally thought. Nodding she turned her head and followed Willow and Gus to the rocky dirt path where a yellow taxi was waiting for them.

[fortunatelylori]

Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love now and then

Thoughts on Sanditon finale

It is a truth universally acknowledged that you should never blog in anger. Last night’s Sanditon episode left the entire fandom in a state of uproar. Cancelations have been issued. Curses have been cast and tears have been shed … those were mostly mine, to be fair.

For once I decided not to start furiously typing just as the episode ended but wait out the inevitable momentary fury and return to the episode tonight for a second viewing. I have to thank @and-holly-goes-lightly and @kitten1618x for putting up with my temper tantrums late last night on private chat so all of you nice people wouldn’t have to endure my more volcanic outbursts. Being far more reasonable people than I, they pointed out the grayness in a sea of black and white and made me reconsider the episode.

In addition I would advise anyone to do a second viewing of the episode if you haven’t done so yet. Reason being that your first viewing of something that you are so deeply invested in will always be heated. I could hardly pay attention last night to the scenes I was watching because I was so desperate to get to the ending. On top of that, the reality of what you see on screen will fight with the theory you’ve already made in your head and more often than not you end up disliking canon not because it’s bad but because it’s not what you thought you were going to see.

That being said, after a thorough rewatch, I have to declare this episode as one of the finest finales to a season I’ve seen. I say finale to the season, not the series because as a series finale it would be more than a little disappointing. But if there is one silver lining to take from this episode is that we are getting a season 2. I just can’t see how we wouldn’t.

Now, nothing in life, has any business being perfect and this episode wasn’t either. So I will quickly list what I felt were the major flaws so we can proceed to the good stuff of which there is plenty.

Not sparkers of joy

The pacing and structure

It was somewhat rushed. Scenes jumped from one to the other without much preparation (particularly in the first half) and several things were not addressed. People have pointed to the fact that they did not include a Charlotte/Georgiana good-bye scene which I agree was a mistake. In addition, we were presented with a Georgiana and Arthur that were the best of friends even though in episode 7, Georgiana couldn’t stand him. That’s not to say they couldn’t reach this point but I expected to see that journey, not skip it.

Georgiana, on the whole, was odd. Aside from her rebuke of Sidney and conversation with Charlotte which were keeping in line with what she did in episode 7, the rest of her time on screen was perplexing. She was lively, dancing with everyone, huge smile on her face … this being the girl that refused to leave her bedroom a few days before. Again, not saying she couldn’t get to this stage but where did I see how she did that?!?

The whole Sidney/Eliza situation was resolved off screen which … why?!? First we weren’t given the scene of him sending her packing in ep 7 and now we have no idea how he turned that around to the extent that he got himself engaged to her and with the money to save Sanditon, all in a week.

I mean ok, I get that he’s got but ... OK, OK! He’s THAT hot!

There were other examples of shoddy storytelling but those stick out in my mind the most.

The sudden tone shift

The reason why I reacted so badly to the episode to start with was because for 7 hours I was led to believe this was a fluffy, cozy regency romance in the vein of Northanger Abbey or Emma. Sure, things happen to cause momentary sadness but it all gets resolved in the best way by the end of the episode.

Instead the Sanditon finale marked the tone shift from the fluffy to the angst. We are now firmly in Persuasion/Sense&Sensibility territory. It’s still Austen as I will explain below in more detail but I would have appreciated some warning that this is where we were heading.

The specifics of the cliffhanger

Now this is obviously personal preferences but I do have some issues with the manner in which they chose to separate Sidney and Charlotte. Having Sidney propose to Eliza in order to get the money to save Tom from prison does resolve several issues in a very expedient way: it forces the two young lovers apart; it creates angst and anticipation for the next season; it also allows for Charlotte and Sidney to both be victims of the separation and still desperately in love with each other and wanting to get married.

However, the cost is that Sidney is now in the position of doing to Charlotte exactly what Willoughby did to Marianne in Sense and Sensibility. Sidney is obviously not Willoughby and his motives are selfless. But his actions are a play by play of Willoughby’s betrayal: he pursues Charlotte, kisses her on the cliffs (substitute that for Willoughby taking a lock of Marianne’s hair), means to propose to her and then disappears, only to return engaged when a lack of money force him to choose between love and a fortune. 

He even makes a “I don’t love her” confession, similar to Willoughby’s scene with Eleanor. Of course, Sidney tells Charlotte that not to victimize himself like Willoughby but rather because he can’t bare the thought that Charlotte might think he’s done this because he doesn’t love her. But you can see how this kind of narrative choice can really negatively impact Sidney’s character. 

It’s sad that they chose this cliffhanger, particularly since they didn’t need to. I firmly believe that had they ended on a more hopefully note for Charlotte and Sidney we would have tuned in anyway for season 2. I wish they had had more confidence in their story and in their viewers.

But enough of the negative!

Sparks joy

Theme

I have to say that thematically, they hit this finale out of the park. The most important piece of dialogue in this whole episode occurs between Esther and Lady Denham:

Lady Denham: It is infinitely better to be loved than to love. Especially in a marriage.

Esther: You’re speaking from your own experience or someone else’s?

Lady Denham: My own. Not with my husband, of course. It was long before that. A man called Rowley. Some people said he was the handsomest man in all of Somerset. But to me he was the handsomest in the world. And he knew it!

Esther: What happened?

Lady Denham: He kept me dangling for a while. Trembling. Waiting for a look, for a smile, for a tender word … like one of his dogs. And then he up and married a girl from Gloucestershire, with 50.000. He had debts, of course. Couldn’t have afforded to marry me. Should have been obvious to me at the time but … you know what girls are.

May I just say that Anne Ried’s performance in this scene is a treasure trove of skill and emotion? You can just feel the longing and the sadness this story can still elicit from this seemingly cold matriarch. Lady Denham, like all our characters, is more than she seems. She starts off as a Lady Catherine de Bourgh clone and develops into one of the wisest, mot rational people in the show.

She gives Esther excellent advice and is compassionate when she realizes what Edward has been doing to her.

She also gives us our theme for the finale of Sanditon and perhaps of the whole show. Because her speech doesn’t just apply to Esther and her relationship to Edward. It applies to Georgiana’s heartbreak over Otis and Charlotte’s impeding heartbreak at the hands of Sidney. In even more general terms, it speaks to the heartbreak most Austen heroines experience at some point during her novels: 

Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then. It is something to think of, and gives her a sort of distinction among her companions - Pride and Prejudice

Her whole speech reminded me of what my mother told me the first time I broke up with someone I loved. She said: “No girl can pass through life without having her heart broken”.

The show telegraphs this home by having the Sidney/Charlotte cliff walk follow immediately after this scene.

We are so distracted by the innocent beauty of Sidney and Charlotte being in love and so mesmerized by their first kiss:

That we fail to take Lady Denham’s warning seriously. And, just like Charlotte, we end up paying the price for it

The Austenverse

Lady Denham also clues us in to where exactly we are within the Austenverse. Many people have claimed that episode 8 marked the moment this stopped being an Austen story because Austen novels always have happy endings:

My characters shall have, after a little trouble, all that they desire.

Did you think we were just going to skip the “little trouble”part? Sweet summer children! We’re at the moment where Elizabeth finds out Lydia has run off with Wickham and thinks she’s lost Darcy for good. We’re at the moment where Knightly reprimands Emma for treating Miss Bates poorly and leaves for London. We’re at the moment where Anne is forced to join her father in Bath and believes Fredrick will soon marry Louisa Musgrove.

And finally, and most pertinently since this is what Sanditon is trying to emulate, we’re at the moment where Edward’s engagement to Lucy Steele is made public and he and Eleanor say their final good-byes (supposedly).

Austen heroines are never spared heartache. But it is a depiction of heartache that is not gratuitous. It allows the characters to grow, to understand the true depth of their feelings and eventually to value the good fortune they have when it all turns out for the best in the end.

And no novel drives that point home more than Sense and Sensibility and Austen’s Eleanor character, the suffer in silence heroine who pretends she is fine, all the meanwhile dying on the inside. Kind of like this:

Honestly it shouldn’t surprise me that we’ve ended the season on this somber note. Sanditon visually owes a great deal to Davies’ Sense and Sensibility 2008 adaptation. That mini-series had a somewhat different feel to usual Austen productions, particularly in comparison to the 1995 Ang Lee film. It was darker, grittier and had a bit of a western feel to it than Sanditon reproduces to great effect, I think.

So it’s quite understandable, in retrospect, that Charlotte’s character arc would see her start off as a Marianne type character (open, romantic and impulsive) and slowly turn her into Eleanor by the end of the season.

In order to make that transition complete, a lot was asked of Rose Williams and she manages to convey the transformation in one breathtaking shot:

I am deeply, deeply impressed with her acting in this episode, and particularly in this scene. You can literally feel her heart breaking and see the mask that will dominate in the church scene fall into place.

Which brings us to Sidney …

I’ve said it a million times and I can’t help but say it again: Theo James OWNS this character. I don’t know if he simply hasn’t gotten the proper material in his career until now or if there’s something special about Sidney that resonates with him but his acting is so spot on that even when Sidney breaks Charlotte’s heart, behaving like Willoughby as I’ve said, you can’t hate him.

Not when he is the same man who gets chocked up as he tries to propose to Charlotte:

Not when he’s the man who tells her this:

Sidney: I have never wanted to put myself in someone else’s power before. I never wanted to care for anyone but myself.

And not when, with just one look, Theo James is able to convey Sidney’s despair and pain. How can you hate him when he’s clearly breaking himself into tiny pieces over giving Charlotte up?

And how the hell can you hate him when you can hate … this clown instead?

Oh, sorry I meant …

Words cannot describe how much I loathe Tom Parker. Well actually, my new fictional mum comes close to enunciating our common and general distaste:

Lady Denham: I will see you in the debtors prison! I will see you in the poor house! Where are your promises now? Dust and ashes! You might as well have lost my money at the gaming tables! You despicable man!

If only Lady D would have been allowed to go forth with her threat and hand Tom over to the debt collectors. How much happier everyone would be right now!

Unfortunately the Parkers are far too nice for their own good. They all jump in head first, trying to save this sorry excuse for a man. Arthur even offers up his entire inheritance. Tom refuses … Not because he thinks it’s not right for his youngest brother to risk his entire life’s comfort for his unworthy clown’s ass but because … IT’S NOT ENOUGH MONEY!

Tom Parker has amassed 80.000 pounds worth of debts. Luckily Google allows me to illustrate to you exactly what 80.000 pounds meant in 1820s era England:

80.000 pounds could have paid the wages of an immortal skilled worker in perpetuity!!!! And this MORON decided not to ensure it … Apparently, Kris Marshall has said that Tom is the Regency’s version of Steve Jobs … I assume Steve Jobs too let his younger brother prostitute himself for his benefit, after already taking a 3000 pounds “loan” from him and thinking up ways of spending his baby  brother’s inheritance on top of that … Oh, wait! Steve Jobs was a visionary who died a billionaire. Take several sits, Kris!

What really irritates me is that everyone is very quick to absolve Tom of any blame, jump to his defense and in due course Tom, himself, decides he should not be so hard on himself, which is why he is ecstatic when Sidney returns to Sanditon, with the news of his engagement. This is what comes out of Tom Parker’s mouth:

Tom Parker: This is excellent news! Oh, Charlotte, glorious news! Sanditon is saved!

So he knows full well that Sidney has asked Mrs. Campion to marry him in order to save him and he is perfectly willing to let him go through with ruining his life. The saddest part is that the rest of the Parker family goes along with this lunacy.

That includes Mary who already knows that Sidney and Charlotte are in love. Kind and sensible as she might be, Mary decides to turn a blind eye to Sidney’s sacrifice and Charlotte’s pain in order to have her husband safe. And it shouldn’t come as a surprise since she’s the one that told Sidney this back in episode 1:

Sidney: And tomorrow is the famous ball, is it not?

Mary: Tom has been in such a state about it! You will do all you can to help him, won’t you?

I thought I’d mention this since everyone seems to be under the impression that Sidney sacrificing himself for Tom now is a sign of the growth of character Charlotte inspired in him. But it actually isn’t.

Both Tom and Mary make it very clear early on that they relay on Sidney’s help. He’s sort of the third member of their marriage (they do have a painting of him in their entryway) who is there to ensure Tom’s ass is saved from the fire of his own making. And both Tom and Mary are complacent in this.

Sidney choosing to marry Mrs. Campion over Charlotte isn’t a new development in his dedication to his family. It is the end result of years of emotional blackmail and dependency Tom has dished out, and Mary has, most likely unconsciously, supported.

And all of that spells disaster for Sidney who is left closing the door to the coach that will take the love of his life away from him:

I know we are all commiserating with Charlotte over what happened. But I think we should spare Sidney a thought as well. He is ruining his life, his integrity and his happiness for someone who will most likely waste his sacrifice in a matter of months. Add to that Eliza’s behavior at the wedding and it’s pretty safe to say Sidney will pay for the money he will give Tom in every which way possible.

The only glimmer of light in all this unbearable darkness is that Lord Babington (he still doesn’t have a first name … :( ) and Esther are now married. Their wedding is actually very much a visual representation of Austen type country weddings, down to everyone smiling and throwing petals at them:

However even in their case, there are still clouds on the horizon since Esther was pretty clear about not being in love with her husband. She took Lady D’s advice that “ being loved is better than loving: and season 2 will show us if that is enough for her or indeed her husband.

Unfortunately, our two protagonists weren’t as lucky as Lord and Lady Babington. The road ahead for them is hard and filled with angst. There’s bound to be a lot of darkness before the dawn. However, do not despair and listen to the only voice that matters:

Lady Denham: Well, Miss Heywood? You’re still proclaiming your independence? Or is it that none of our young men have taken your fancy? I’ll wager we’ll see you walk down the aisle very soon. What do you say, Mr. Parker?

My fictional mummy is never wrong!

[shenlongshao]

GGS Redesign Analysis: Zato=One

Hello!^_^  Welcome to the continuation of my redesign analysis of the Guilty Gear characters. Here is the links to the previous ones if you haven’t seen them. https://shenlongshao.tumblr.com/post/189263935197/gg-strive-thoughts-part-3 and https://shenlongshao.tumblr.com/post/190417510842/ggs-redesign-analysis-faust The latest trailer for Guilty Gear Strive reveals two legacy characters; Millia Rage and Zato! Most of us aren’t really surprised when thinking about the past character reveals. Since Tumblr is a bit weird with image posting for me, I’m doing the pair separately instead of together starting with Zato. ZATO=ONE ----------------- The reactions for Zato’s reveal has mostly been positive with saying how handsome he looks and his extra muscles. Although there’s still the comment of “just like Potemkin, he looks exactly the same.” He didn’t receive a huge redesign, but there are some noticeable tweaks to his look, especially when compared to the past, starting with GG: The Missing Link.

Zato’s design has the mixture of being timeless and mysterious with a hint of style. His long blonde hair is sleeked backward with the exception of a single strand that lays on the side of his face. A red blindfold with a black belt covers his eyes, which is the most unique aspect of his look, since it perfectly displays Zato doesn’t have his eyesight. A leather choker is worn around his neck and a sleeveless, spandex bodysuit that conveys of his alluring charm and his occupation as the leader of the Assassin’s Guild. His form-fitting leather arm warmers displays his dandyism philosophy while his combat boots creates an air of a commanding presence. Finishing the look is a simple black belt around his waist.  This fits his storyline of how in the past, Zato’s harsh upbringing forces him to adapt the traits of being shrewd, ruthless, and cunning. In exchange of being recognized as a valuable member of the Assassin’s Guild, he performed a life-threatening ritual in exchange of a great power called a Forbidden Beast. For Zato, he gained the ability to manipulate shadows(a.k.a his partner Eddie). There is still hints of his caring and compassionate side, especially to those like Millia and Venom. But Zato’s pride and greed for power lead to his demise with Eddie taking over his body. Although his design isn’t as detailed as many of the other characters, I still think it’s iconic. The style of his clothing reminds of the 90s Marvel style of designing characters wearing spandex in 1 or 2 color schemes. In GGX, his look didn’t really change except for an additional hair strand resting on the other side of his face. The biggest story development is in GGXRD SIGN when the Conclave used the art of resurrection on him(as a test subject since their true purpose was to revive Justice), but has almost no emotion except for wanting to protect Millia. Thus, he received some minor tweaks to his design.

The first is the belt securing his red blindfold is no longer a standard one. This time it’s a clip buckle type belt, which gives a more stylish look. In the center of his chest and on the hand part of his arm warmers is a decorative, light gray emblem that shows some elegance. There’s another small, but noticeable change; the belt around his waist.

There’s more detail like the holes around the strap and the center of belt having a hint of silver along with the yellowish-gold trim. The belt itself is also a bit larger as it rests around his hips instead of the waist. Zato’s primary colors is black with some red. But this time, there’s some gray added so let’s look at the color personality for each. Color Personality for Black: https://www.empower-yourself-with-color-psychology.com/personality-color-black.html Prestige and power are important to you. You are independent, strong-willed and determined and like to be in control of yourself and situations. You may appear intimidating to even your closest colleagues and friends, with an authoritarian, demanding and dictatorial attitude. With a personality color black, you may be looking for protection from any negativity that surrounds you. You may wish to create an aura of mystery and intrigue, as in the sexy black negligee. You are methodical in your work, making sure everything is completed as required, down to the last detail. Color Personality of Red: https://www.empower-yourself-with-color-psychology.com/personality-color-red.html You are action oriented and physically active - sex is a necessity to you - you have strong survival instincts.With a favorite color red, you like to be the center of attention - in fact all reds crave attention - other people are drawn to the vitality and sense of excitement you emit.  You are ambitious and competitive and like to be the winner - you are achievement orientated and second place is not good enough for you. With you it is all or nothing. You usually gain the respect of others quite easily with your practical and grounded attitude and ability to set boundaries. Lovers of red are the explorers and pioneers of the world, the entrepreneurs and builders who like to be first in discovering new physical realms. You do not procrastinate - you never put off until tomorrow what you can do today.You are a hard worker when you have a personality color red, and you specifically enjoy physical labor and working with your hands. Red people can be aggressive and easy to anger, often exhibiting a violent temper - this is negative passion and energy. You flare up instantaneously but calm down quite quickly once you get it out of your system and then forget it ever happened - you do not hold a grudge. You have a strong need for power and control which is connected to your basic survival instincts. Color Personality of Gray: https://www.empower-yourself-with-color-psychology.com/personality-color-gray.html If this is your favorite color, you are neutral about life, often to the point of being indifferent. If you love gray, you are trying to protect yourself from the chaotic outside world, even to the point of isolating yourself from others, leaving you with the feeling that you don't really fit in or belong anywhere. Being a personality color gray, you are attracted to this neutral, non-emotional color as it controls and contains your energy - you just don't show excitement or enthusiasm about anything much in your life. With a personality color gray you may be a self-sufficient, unemotional dedicated worker in your business life and a lonely indecisive person in your private life. These describe Zato well, especially in his current state of how gray applies to him. Now to look at his GG Strive design starting his face.

Zato’s hairstyle is asymmetrical instead of sleeked back like in the previous GG games, enhancing his already handsome features. The design of the blindfold and belt concealing his eyes is the same, though there is the engraved emblem on its center. Here is a link to see the image bigger to see it along with other details.   https://i.imgur.com/z0tlG4I.png You can also see in closer view how Zato’s attire is a tactical stealth bodysuit instead of the traditional, sleeveless spandex from before. There’s brown straps acting as the trim of where the sleeves would begin along with some armor panels on his body. His choker is replaced as a buckle that connects the tactical bodysuit and the collar is slightly loose. Now to see a full body of his design.

This also better illustrates how what he’s wearing is a tactical bodysuit because the lines present on his upper thighs, the belt straps, the detail added on his arm warmers, and his new belt resting on his hips. Besides it also being brown, there’s the addition of pockets on each side. There’s also something written in the back from this next picture below.

I added arrows to point his belt, the detail on the back of his bodysuit, and his boots. Due to the picture quality, it’s currently somewhat hard to see what it says. But some of the letters are obviously “Mill-X”(not sure of the letter after M, but looks like an “i”). His boots is also a different style of it having straps instead of red shoe strings to tie the combat boots in the front. Although Zato always have been combat ready, the tactical stealth bodysuit conveys extra preparation of whatever will happen next along with his role in the Assassin’s Guild.  I notice there’s some brown added to his color scheme, so let’s look at the meaning of it.~ Color Personality of Brown: https://www.empower-yourself-with-color-psychology.com/personality-color-brown.html If you are a personality color brown, you are sensual, warm and supportive. Others are comfortable in your presence and find it easy to open up to and confide in you. You are hard-working, industrious and reliable. You take life seriously but have a subtle dry sense of humor. You tend not to be carefree and spontaneous. You prefer to know exactly what is going on before you commit - no surprise parties for you! You feel uncomfortable about losing control but will work hard to change a situation that seems unjust or unfair. You have a strong need for security and a sense of belonging, which is why your family is so important to you. You can be quite contemplative, working out problems and becoming quite absorbed until you find a solution. Considering what Zato’s character development may lead to and the path of regaining and renewing his emotions and himself as a person. Despite seemingly lost all sense of feeling, his love for Millia triggers the part of him that’s caring and protective so I think more of Zato’s traits may be shown. Brown perfectly displays this aspect of him along with complimenting black. Zato’s redesign is mainly a tweak to his established look rather than a complete change. Although I’m surprised he didn’t wear the coat like in Revelator, I’m glad the essence of his design is kept. Sometimes, a radical redesign isn’t necessary, especially if it’s not going to be as good or better than the original. I think his look is perfect. Rating: S + + +(Dandy!~) Honorable mention is his Forbidden Beast name “Eddie”. Although Eddie’s form is typically a demon, he is a shadow parasite that can shape-shift in various forms. So instead I think it’s more accurate to say he morphed into his current look rather than “redesigned”. This post is super late, but next time will be the redesign analysis of Millia Rage!^_^

[blaugreen]

In "High School," Tegan and Sara Quin reflect on coming out and hitting it big

Washington Post book review of High School

By Jancee Dunn September 17 at 4:37 PM

“If you enjoyed high school," the writer Jenny Lawson once wrote, "you were probably a psychopath or a cheerleader. Or possibly both."

All others should find plenty of solace in "High School," a coming-of-age memoir from Canadian musicians, twin sisters and LGBTQ icons Tegan and Sara Quin. A sort of anti-yearbook, it's not likely to make anyone nostalgic for their teen years.

Written by the sisters in alternating chapters, the book is divided into three sections -- Grade 10, Grade 11 and Grade 12 -- and details their teenage years and discovery of rave and grunge in the mid-90s.

Their upbringing in the suburbs of northeast Calgary, where temperatures can hit minus-20 degrees in winter, was fairly drab. Born in 1980 to childhood sweethearts who split when the sisters were in first grade, the girls lived mostly with their mom, Sonia, a plucky activist and mental health worker who worked long shifts. This meant, as Tegan puts it, that "Sara and I were free to kick the,' well, you know,' out of each other without a referee."

In 1990, Sonia and the girls move in with Bruce, a handsome, Camaro-driving hockey-playing construction manager who becomes a kind of stepfather and emerges in the book as a caring, endearingly complicated hero.

The Quins are skilled writers with an eye for detail. Here's Sara describing the scene as Bruce ferries them to school in his pickup truck: "The silver wrappers from the Wendy's burgers he ate daily were balled up near the pedals on the floor. The dashboard and seats were dusted with grit from the construction sites he managed, and the whole car smelled of onions and his musky cologne.î

Both women deftly capture the messy complexities of being twins. As acrimonious as their relationship could be, there was also an inexorable need. "We fought, mercilessly, for time alone," Tegan writes, "but I still felt a primal fear of being apart from her." They discover acid (they very matter-of-factly did a ton of drugs). They hit the mall. They brawl over whose turn it is to use the computer as the dial-up modem sputters to life, one of many amusing '90s-era details.

And both begin to realize, even if they can’t yet put it into words, that they are attracted to girls. Tegan attempts to date a guy named Spencer. ("Why doesn’t this feel right?" she keeps asking herself.) Meanwhile, Sara writes secret letters to her crushes. (”It was still a shock to feel desire for girls, addictive thoughts that stole hours of my time at school and in bed before I fell asleep.")

When she finally kisses her friend Naomi, she feels so much inner turmoil that she runs to the bathroom to throw up, terrified of revealing her sexuality in a place, and era, that isn’t particularly queer-friendly.

Music becomes their salvation. Sara discovers Smashing Pumpkins and howls along to the lyrics, imagining that a crowd, replete with her junior high bullies, is watching her. In 10th grade, the sisters unearth a guitar that Bruce has stashed under the stairs. They steal off to teach themselves to play (Tegan studying music videos of Courtney Love and mimicking how she holds her hands). "Slowly, I was able to start holding power chords that didn't sound half bad," she writes.

Eventually, Sara starts singing along, and writes their very first song, "Tegan Didn’t Go to School Today." Their fate is sealed when their mom buys them an electric guitar on their 16th birthday.

In 12th grade, they enter a contest called Garage Warz. The prize is gigs and studio time. "If we don't win tonight, our mom is going to make us go to college," Tegan announces to the judges. They win. Their fans know what followed: a million albums sold, a Grammy nomination, their emergence as outspoken advocates for LGBTQ rights.

By the book's end, the reader is nearly as eager to leave high school as they are. This is not a knock. They write so viscerally about the mundaneness and despair and occasional highs, chemical and otherwise, of being a teen that it revived, for me, some long-buried memories I had hoped to leave behind forever.

"High School" has the immediacy and intimacy of a diary, but it also suffers from the stream-of-consciousness verbosity of the form: a litany of drugs, crushes on girls, raucous parties at the pot-smoke-clouded house of an older dude named Rick.

And while the book adeptly captures the searing pain of being a teenager, the sisters don't offer any insight as adults. Why did they do so many drugs, for instance? "Teenage boredom" and “Calgary winters” seem like reasonable explanations, but it would have been enlightening to hear it from them.

The most powerful moment in "High School" comes as they confront their sexuality. Sara writes movingly of realizing that she is gay. In a flood of tears after her first girlfriend leaves her, she stands at her bedroom window and looks at the moon. I’m gay, she thinks for the first time. "From that night forward, I carried the words in my mouth," she writes, “tempted to tell everyone and no one."

"High School" reminds us that even one compassionate adult can have an outsize effect on a teen struggling with their sexuality. When a boy in Sara’s sex education class asserts that only gay people get AIDS, she flees the class, sobbing, and blindly runs to her sympathetic drama teacher, Mr. Russel, who immediately takes charge. Afterward, when she thanks him, she writes, "I found that I couldn’t quite meet his eyes. I wanted to tell him that I knew he was gay, and that I probably was, too. But I couldn’t.”

His instinctive rush to protect her is one of the book’s most dramatic scenes. It’s been nearly a quarter-century since then. Maybe Mr. Russel doesn’t even remember his act of kindness that day. But Sara does.

[tales-from-exo-planet]

LYON II PATHCODES VOL. II

ACT III./Pt I. “Dirty Chai”

Length - 8,637

Mood - Amorous, Captivated

Pairing - Baekhyun x Reader

Warning - Mature for sexual references

“You’re perfect

I’ll fill up your empty heart

To the brim with me”

-Baekhyun “Stay Up” feat. Beenzino

You tucked the slim rose gold circle back into your pocketbook after checking your complexion once again.

The inside of the cafe he had suggested to meet, a blend of cream and taupe walls, sky blue ceiling and plates, silver and earthenware cups, and cherry wood furniture, a modern update to a cultural staple, was tranquil and enchanting as expected.

There were a mixture of students stopping to take a break from their studies, young couples side by side at tables sharing small café plates of tartine between them while enjoying a peaceful weekend, and elder patrons ordering an un déca to take to the terrace, the prime spot for people watching, the morning paper rolled and tucked against their side as they carried their cup out into the breezy afternoon air.

You’d taken a barstool window seat at the front, where you also observed the comings and goings of café patrons.

It was a non assuming, homey weekend in Lyon yet within your ribcage you felt as though your heart was spastically beating out of time every minute that he had yet to arrive.

You felt a jittery whirlwind of unbidden exhilaration and nerves after your chance reintroduction at L’ambassade.

You knew you weren’t fooling him with your, “my schedule should be clear soon. It’s just a crazy month,” texts.

In fact, every time you sent one of those after another “so what does your week look like?” texts from him he would call you after an hour, shifting the conversation to something entirely apart from what you had previously talked about, sharing an anecdote about his day, and always asking you more about yours. It was after one of those conversations that he met you again, somewhat at your invitation but moreso because you told him about the event, at a charity concert by a classical pianist spotlighting the entirety of Chopin’s Nocturnes. He came with a friend whom he introduced you to, an equally connected young man that disappeared from his side before the actual event leaving him alone to find a way to you without his wingman.

Later, on the phone, he continued to ask a lot about your hobbies; recreating Pinterest boards in your office as vision boards for potential clients complete with fabric and scent details, thrifting with your best friend whether here in Lyon or Marseille for vinyls, unique home decor, and vintage seasonal wear you liked as a reward to yourself for another happy customer, volunteering at the plant nursery you’d been going to since you were a child when they needed help, and told you about his; taking a foodie tour of the city with his grandmother and mother when she was in town to visit them, staying in after long stretches of activity for his radio broadcast to game, ordering in lunch and dinner at his studio’s practice room to try his hand at a new piano composition unbothered, spending time with his grandparents at their country home he had bought for them after his first paycheck to help around the house with their gardening only to be rewarded with a home cooked meal.

The conversations were unhurried and disarming, his tone of voice, always genial, growing warmer the more you shared.

Sometimes you were still confused at how two low key individuals would choose to meet one another in an environment altogether separate from their private big hearted, blissful personalities.

Why had he chosen to host that party?

Why had you chosen to go?

Couldn’t you have just as easily bumped into him while out thrifting with your mother and he, out on a foodie tour with his grandmother and mother?

Wouldn’t that have been more organic and natural to affection than to see each other as you had at L’ambassade, in the ambitious, commanding personas you reserved for the public?

”I hope to see you soon,” he’d say towards the end, in a hushed confiding tone and you’d pause hearing his hopes crumbling until you answered, “Mhm. If my schedule clears up.”

You confided in your best friend (Marseille Reader) after one such conversation, saying that “Mm what if it’s not all that I think it will be anyways. There’s nothing worse than having your time just...wasted. After all the anticipation…” But she made fun of you where you hoped to find someone to laugh with.

“I’m so through with you! After he hopped in the car to come have pizza and watch your favorite movie, your mother suddenly called and said that she had an accident at the shop in the middle of the night? I mean...I tried my best not to blow your cover but really____?”

You were sheepish at her blatant though truthful accusations about your dubious attempts to avoid being left alone with him.

“I thought you were IN LIKE with the guy! He was ALL you would talk about whenever you found the time and now when he hopped in the car, and ditched his own party, something Prince Charming didn’t even really do, need I remind you Cinderella, to get to know you, you’re going to text your mom and chicken out? I was too embarrassed to laugh.”

You took a breath to respond but knew that you couldn’t explain it away. You were out thrifting at the time and she had moved on to the next clothing rack by the time you’d thought of a response anyways.

As soon as she (Marseille Reader) had taken off from L’ambassade, you were texting your mother to call you with some excuse so that you could get out of this possible date slash round two of whatever you had started back at his party.

And much to your shame, she did call but asked you about “the spontaneous affair” later.

He was all you could talk about.

He was the person you had wanted to meet the most.

Well...one of the people you had wanted to meet the most.

It felt wrong to feel drawn to him, and to desire his presence as you did.

Whose presence do I desire?

It felt wrong now that he was looking at you, sharing not only your space but the sweat of your dance upon his own skin.

It felt too rushed.

Too soon.

How could you know something as surely as you felt within your soul that though he was a stranger to you in name, in touch, in scent, his aura told you otherwise.

Truer was he becoming to the drawing of happiness you had inactively but subconsciously crafted when thinking “this is the kind of man he will be.”

Could you trust that blueprint when you had failed before, falling for those who turned out to be fallen, faithless princes instead?

But I have known you before.

The whole world has known our story as some sugar spun fairytale but it’s real.

It’s before me, finally.

I can’t let the sun go down another day without being in your presence.

Without being by your side.

When he looked at you as you took that call from your mother.

When he called you after you sent another frightened “I need space” text.

You knew that he knew it.

He felt it.

And he waited.

More patiently than you honestly expected him to be.

His tone of voice was ever cheerful, ever sweet, ever thoughtful.

When you lied to him and to ___ (Marseille Reader) that you had to see about your Mom and hoped you could see him again another time, he paused. His entire being seemed to slow in motion, his head turning, though not suspiciously, but genuinely concerned that he had done something irrevocably wrong.

“I hope everything is ok?” Was all he said at first and the car was quiet as _____ (Marseille Reader) slowed at the light and made to turn the car around to return to the club.

“I’m sure it’ll be just fine,” _____ (Marseille Reader) sighed as she came to a stop.

You felt your breath coming in high and fast as you waited for him to go.

“I really hope everything is ok. Maybe we can see the movie another time?” He asked, his inflection, meant to be both compassionate and trusting, drew your gaze from your screen where you looked at your mother’s most recent text.

“I thought you were at an event tonight. Why would you need an excuse to leave? Is everything ok? Are you safe?”

You tapped the button to darken the screen.

His eyes took you in, gauging your false worry and concern over your mother’s shop.

But though you were sure the lie you crafted was clear as the night’s starless sky, and that he was merely seeing the extent of the growing anxiety you were sweating to contain, he only gave a small, tender smile that lit his eyes with knowing.

“If it’s ok, I’ll call you later? Just to make sure you’re ok. Ok?”

And after so many phone calls, later here we finally are, you thought to yourself as he entered the cafe, took a cursory glance around the place and upon settling his eyes on you, smiling a smile that was for you and you alone.

As if to say, finally.

“________,” he greeted you as he came closer to your perch.

“Hi,” you smiled back, remembering your Mom’s hands in your hair that same night you fled to her shop.

“Don’t be afraid to love someone, _______. There were boys you met in school. You have had some heartbreaks now as a young adult. Things don’t always appear as they seem to be. We’ve talked about those times. We’ll talk about everything that happens no matter who it is. But life is about experience. Life is to be lived in both joy and pain, no matter what happened before. Don’t be afraid, my darling, my baby girl,” she smoothed her hands through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp as you turned your face into her stomach and cried.

————

“Café allongé? Really? I would have thought…”

You knew you were pulling a face and his eyes watched as you playfully judged his choice.

He sniffed at the dirty chai you ordered too before leaving the café.

“That smells so good. The dirty chai you ordered.” Did he have a thing for scents too?

“It’s one of my favorites. Have you ever tried a chai before? If you like café allongé you might like a dirty chai. It also has espresso in it but has more flavor from the milk and spices used. Milk drinks are more for breakfast but ah well. My mom uses cloves and fresh ginger when she makes it for me at home,” you stated, stopping beside him where you walked to bring the steaming to go cup up for him to smell.

Stepping closer to where you offered him your uncovered cup, he took a hearty inhale, nodding once with his eyes closed, a fan of golden brown lashes against his pinkened cheeks.

“That does smell delicious,” he said as he opened his eyes.

His eyes resembled the spice blend swirling beneath the steam from your uncovered cup.

Delicious, he had said in English.

The slight spring breeze carried his voice high above you, above the square framed by the Cathedral Saint Jean to the sun, beaming brightly atop the clouds.

You stood still moving carefully to replace the top without wasting your coffee all over yourself from nerves.

“I wasn’t sure what you would like more,” he said after you finished.

You could tell that he had watched you until you successfully replaced the top.

The nonchalant way his hand slid back into his pocket that wasn’t holding his coffee cup as if he was braced to pull the cup from you if it began to fall.

“What do you mean?” You asked, sipping briefly.

“I mean...I didn’t know if you would like to go out dancing again. You seemed to have so much fun when we were out,” he tilted his head back to swallow a large gulp.

The way he winced afterwards let you know that it was as bitter as you thought.

“Ah well dancing is fun too...it’s nice to just be out today. Thank you for inviting me,” you shook off his assumption that you were bored with his choice when it was entirely the opposite.

It was a beautiful spring afternoon in Lyon for window shopping, most specifically at Les Jouets des Anges, for his nephew and niece who were visiting next month.  

“It’s just...if I can be honest with you I don’t go to nor do I host events like that often. I’m more of a homebody,” he chuckled at his sudden confession but it was the expression that came over his face that made you chuckle too.

“I can relate to that. After the past couple months of back to back to back schedules, it is so nice to just do something low key like today. What kind of gifts are you looking for?” You asked as you neared the shop’s ruby red and gold lettered facade.

You followed him into the shop, greeting the shopkeepers and waiting for him to explain his reason for stopping in, that he was looking for a unique doll for his niece and potentially a new toy car for his nephew.

You noticed the pauses between his phrases, as if he were searching for the right words to use and remembered that he had mentioned still not feeling as comfortable with using French as he was his native language, a revelation that made you think back to the combination of English, Korean, and French you had heard him using during his evening broadcast.

The shopkeepers brought you around the shop, showing you the best that they could offer, and he was considerate of their offers though you could tell that none of them were exactly the items that he was looking for.

You left without purchasing anything at all, and continued to wander together, another swift breeze wafting the citrus like scent of magnolias your direction.

“Ah, that's a shame that there wasn’t anything there. I know that she does have a doll at home but it’s dress is older and so I was hoping to find a new one,” he frowned as he suddenly brought his phone from his back pocket, and swiped at the screen.

“Here they are,” he spoke softly, and again you came closer until you both were standing beside the bench where the magnolia blossoms had fallen from their tree onto the seat.

He gingerly brushed the blossoms to the floor, making space for you both to sit side by side so that he could show you the photo.

She sat in his lap in the photo, a little boy whom you assumed to be her elder brother stood beside them where they sat, his head leaned on his uncle’s shoulder, who had his arms wrapped around them both.

You saw the doll and action figure he had mentioned to the shopkeeper only moments ago on the floor in their boxes, newly unwrapped Christmas presents.

Their sincere smiles melted the last dregs of your anxiety and you allowed yourself another deep exhale.

“They’re beautiful. Both of them. How old are they?” You asked and he brightened at your question, telling you all about his brother’s children whom would be visiting soon to celebrate his birthday with him.

“So most of your family still lives in South Korea, where you’re from?” You asked, turning towards him and placing your pocketbook against your stomach so that you could cross your legs.

He nodded, turning towards you as you turned, crossing his opposing leg, his arm stretched along the back of the bench, his phone tucked into his front pocket, his left hand on his thigh.

“Yes my grandparents and I are the only ones who emigrated here when I started school. My parents could not afford to come too, otherwise they would have. My brother and his wife were just starting their family when I planned to move so they weren’t able to come too,” he spread the fingers of his left hand wide along his thigh as he pushed and pulled his palm along the fabric.

“Why Lyon of all places in France?” You asked, genuinely curious as he pursed his lips, a gesture that told you that he was again thinking about how to say what was on his mind in a way that you would understand.

“Well back home, my brother, my father, and I, and a lot of men in our country are required to enter military service within a certain time period. I decided to go in as soon as I was old enough to do so because my parents and I had discussed what I would like to do in my professional career.”

“I have always loved music and had learned to play the piano when I was very young. There was a piece I learned in school by a French composer and I thought that in addition to learning about genres from other countries that maybe it would be interesting to travel and live in a different country. I did not know any French when I decided to come here for my studies but I thought I could learn and just give it a try.”

“So my grandparents decided to move with me. My grandmother teased me and said it wasn’t realistic to send me off on my own to a foreign place where she could not be sure I would eat well.”

He paused at this part of the story as you giggled at another of his shameless admissions, a quirk of a meek smile spreading from one corner of his mouth to the other.

“How could you just uproot your grandparents like that for the sake of food?” You quipped and he laughed aloud, shaking his head and hands simultaneously, “아니, 아니!”

“But you haven’t even tried my grandmother’s cooking. There’s just something about home cooking, you know,” he said in his own defense and you laughed all the more, falling forward and doubling over at his shamelessness.

You hadn’t meant to reach out to brace yourself against him, one hand on his thigh while the other arm cradled your own stomach.

But he didn’t pull away from your touch.

Instead you felt him lean to shift his weight and allow himself to support you.

You sobered up, leaning back, brushing your curls away from your face.

His eyes followed your assent, his cheeks somehow pinker as a sudden glimmer took over his gaze.

“So you moved your dear grandparents here from their home and then you went to Conservatoire National Superieur de Musique et de danse de Lyon for piano pedagogy?” You remembered that had come up during one of your initial conversations after you confessed that you wanted to take your time before considering seriously talking to anyone. Especially with the way that you had met. It’s easy to get confused.

He apologized immediately, thinking that you were assuming that he was only interested in coming back to your place with you and your best friend potentially for...well.

“Yes, they moved with me and I stayed with them on the weekends especially when my family came to visit and during the holidays. I think my grandmother especially was worried not only about my diet but also about my being alone without anyone to talk to.”

“That was another reason that I started my radio program. I wanted to work on using French more and more often. I had experience during my high school years doing a radio broadcast for our school as well. But in college it was different as all things are. I had a lot more freedom in my programming and tried to make it more than just being about myself. I’m not sure when it started to be shared outside of the school circulation but eventually I was approached by producers to make this a regular gig after I completed my training. I was surprised to be received as well as I was and happy that my French improved, even just a little.”

His smile was shy when you nodded and said that you could understand him.

“I think it would be wonderful to learn a new language. I of course know French, but also English, and Portuguese. It would be interesting to learn Korean. The more you are able to rely on yourself and not have to hire outside to supplement needs, the more marketable you are. Definitely worth it to try to pick up a new language if you have the time,” you said, meaning every word that you said.

He seemed to take you at your word, leaning slightly closer to you.

“Also, if you’re still looking for a new dress for your niece’s doll, I...may know a dressmaker that can help you out. Would you be ok with sending me that picture? When would you need the dress by?” You asked, pulling your phone from where it was tucked within your pocketbook.

He gasped at your offer and looked shocked at the sincere way you looked at him, your phone cradled in your hands.

“I...you don’t have to do that. I have been looking on and off but just have not found anything that looks right for her. Or him. That’s so nice of you to offer. Really.” Again, his really was in English.

“Well I don’t mind. Really.” You intoned as he did, his shy smile beaming ever brighter.

“I…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair as a blush bloomed against his neck.

You tucked your hair behind your ear, placing your chin on your hand anchored by your knee, blinking at him expectantly.

He exhaled aloud, blowing a raspberry as he tapped through his phone and you felt your phone buzzing within your palms.

“Thank you,” he had written below the photo now in your inbox.

______________

The evening fast approaching, he drove you back to your flat after you took another walk along the streets, from which you had walked to meet him earlier that afternoon, his hand fidgeting on the stick shift where your hand rested on your own thigh only inches away.

___________

“So should I send the items to your grandparents or should I bring it to you whenever we meet again?” You asked after you shut the door to his Audi and met him on the sidewalk where he stood waiting for you.

He flushed again at your mention of meeting again.

Before you left the Cathedral’s square, he had asked you out to coffee again or maybe dinner out to which you had agreed.

“That’s up to you and also the dressmaker. Would it be ready when we see each other again? Did you want to go out again tomorrow? Or next week?” He asked, as you stepped closer, your heels clicking against the pavement as you went.

“Mm that is true. It would be a shame if it was not ready in time. Is it ok if I have your grandparents’ address then?” You asked, offering him your phone which he took, stepping closer still, to type the address in the note you’d left open under the title “Operation: Toy Delivery.”

He smirked at the title, slipping the phone from his hand to yours so that your hands overlapped and for a moment his hand held yours.

“I was serious about improving my French, if you were serious about learning Korean,” he said, your eyes dancing from his eyes down to his broad shoulders in his trench coat that towered above you, the sun crowning him in its rays.

You were a breath apart now but you spoke in your normal voice, feeling the vibrations bounce back to you as you stood within the cradle of his broad chest.

“So next time, French and Korean lessons?”

“Just next time?” He asked, the end of his question lifting in wonder.

You watched his lips form each syllable he uttered in English.

“Well...it depends on the level you want to reach,” you breathed.

And his smirk broadened.

“I want to be proficient,” he said, again in English.

Now you were flushed to the soles of your feet.

But you smiled all the more, relaxing ever more.

His gaze was ever watchful and when you smiled, when you really smiled, he took your hands in his where they were clasped in front of you keeping your pocketbook still where it rested against your stomach.

His touch was gentle, as you expected, his slim fingers weaving through yours.

“내 미소로 너의 미소의 아름다움을 만지고 싶다,” he whispered in the most tender tone.

“I...what did that mean?” You shivered, coming further into his embrace, the sun falling to insignificance behind him.

“I want to touch the beauty of your smile with my smile,” he whispered, his tone ever more tender as he waited for you to realize what he had asked.

You felt a quivering in your knees but held his hands more firmly, tipping forward and up towards him to kiss the corner of his mouth.

He bit his lip as you settled back on your feet, his hands still holding yours tightly.

You stepped further into his embrace and lifted yourself up again on your toes, feeling him bring you closer, his head turning just in time.

_______________

Two weeks later

He sent you a photo of the gift on his grandparents’ dining table, and a video of his niece and nephew opening the gifts while squealing in delight at the matching outfits for both of the children and each of their toys, crafted by your mother at your request, unbeknownst to him.

You looked at the tag “from your uncle’s good friend” you had written coyly and wondered if he had thought you were passively aggressively friendzoning him.

He called you later that night to thank you again.

“You really didn’t have to do that. I can’t tell you how much they loved the outfits and the extra toys you sent. My brother and his wife, my parents, my grandparents, they all want to thank you personally. It was such a nice gift, ______,” his tone reverent.

______________

A week later

Weaving his fingers between yours once you stepped up to the sidewalk from the car, you walked once again alongside the magnolias, a chattering of birds following you as you spoke together translating phrases and teaching one another new ones.

“너는 오늘 너무 아름다워”

“J'aime cette couleur sur vous”

“나는 너와 함께 시간을 보내는 것을 정말 좋아한다”

“J'ai hâte de vous revoir”

His kisses at your door that night were ever more demonstrative in their tenderness.

The way he cupped your cheeks in his palms, and cradled you into his chest, swaying slightly when you wrapped your arms around his waist, accepting his warmhearted embrace.

___________

Two days later

“But why didn’t you tell me that your mother made them? I...I would like to pay her back-”

“But that’s the point of a gift. It’s not about paying me back. I paid for the fabric and I did also pay my Mom for her time. I know better than that,” you chuckled, picking up your fork to get another bite from the cake you two were sharing.

He pulled the plate of cake from your reach, so that you had to look at him.

“I’m serious, _____. I haven’t even met your mother yet. But my family knows all about these gifts and about you. I would like to meet her and tell her thank you, myself,” he insisted, his tone dropping into his chest.

“Well...ok then, Boss,” you said, reaching for the plate of cake, which he gave to you after holding it away from your grasp a moment longer, kissing and sucking away the cream at the corner of your mouth.

“Was that so hard,” he laughed at your bashful frown.

____________

Two weeks later

“This is my grandmother and mother. 할머니, 엄마 this is ____, and her mother,” he gestured between the three women, the jade green 청자 vases he had ordered and his brother had brought back with him on the center table of your mother’s floral shop.

Your mother, her eyes large as saucers at the size and variety of the vases, quickly began to ask the sweet women, his grandmother and mother, about traditional floral arrangements. He sat between his mother, grandmother and your mother and you sat opposite him helping them to understand one another in their mutual excitement that you felt had less to do with the vases the longer you listened.

_____________

That same week of your birthday

“I trust you, but I don’t trust the sidewalk,” you laughed, feeling his gait slow to awkward shuffling steps framing your tentative ones.

“I won’t let you fall. I promise,” he whispered, brushing his lips against the top of your ear before letting his hands fall.

“Lumière Fourmi closed for an exclusive event...” you gasped at the title, Ever After, showing in each of the window panes.

He took your hand in his, ushering you through the front doors where a banner sparkled under the pearl white ceiling lights.

“Happy Birthday, _____”

——————————-

After a shared bucket of popcorn while cuddling in the plush velvet seats

“Monsieur, Madame, your dessert has arrived,” your lone attendant of the evening announced as he wheeled the cake tray in, complete with a frosted ice bucket of champagne.

After handing the matches to him, they bowed and made their exit.

He sat up, lighting each of the candles one by one, spelling your name.

He sang you the birthday song, his voice like his embrace, warm-hearted, and buttery like toffee, in French.

You clapped enthusiastically, tears in your eyes as you leaned forward to kiss him in thanks.

“마음에 드세요?” He drawled, seemingly happily dizzy from your successive kisses.

“응! 너무 좋아! 정말 고마워!” You took his cheeks in your hands, leaning forward to kiss him again.

He held you to him after the last kiss, murmuring throatily, “Serez-vous ma petite amie?”

Though at this point you knew it was purely a formality, you sat back, his hands resting on your mid back.

“Mille fois oui,” you answered, your gaze straightforward and your heart clear.

_______________________

After a mouthful of cake sweetened kisses

“What movie did you learn that phrase from? I didn’t teach you that,” you joked, snuggling into his arms, as the credits began to roll.

He rolled his eyes, licking his lips after a beat.

“사랑에 빠진 사람은 한계를 모른다,” he murmured between kisses.

_____________________

Finally, at your apartment later that evening  

“Wow, this is such a beautiful place, ______,” he said the moment that you led him into your flat.

“Thank you,”  you said, pulling down at the hem of the sleeve of his trench coat as he stood in wonder.

He looked down at where you tugged at him and giggled as he shrugged out of his trench coat, and waited for you to hang it at the door before you let him know to make himself comfortable.

He stepped out of his dress shoes at the door, placing them so that their toes faced the door, before he walked towards the living area where your curtains were held open.

You moved through your apartment, dreamily, gathering blankets, pillows, placing a new unopened toothbrush on the bathroom counter that you bought for yourself but hadn’t opened yet.

He stood at the window, leaned against the pane, viewing the street below where his car was parked across the street after bringing you both back to your flat.

You stood, unable to move closer.

Though not entirely in fear.

But in peaceful stillness.

In absolute incandescent happiness.

“This has been such a great birthday,” you announced, seeing him jolt slightly at the sudden sound of your voice.

He turned to walk towards you, and you met him in the middle of your hardwood living room floor.

“I’m sorry that I kept you out so late. I hope it’s ok that I stay just this once,” he winced and you rolled your eyes at him.

“I insisted that you come by instead of driving all the way back to your grandparents. I would have been worried if something happened to you out there at this time of night. You forget that both your grandmother and mother have my number.”

He shrugged, his eyes drifting to the blankets and pillows in your arms.

“Let me help you with these then?” He offered and took them, placing them on your sofa and you followed to sit beside him.

Sitting which inevitably became cuddling.

“I’m embarrassed at how easy it is to end up like this,” you admitted into his neck, feeling his throaty chuckle against your lips.

“Is it bad that I’m not?” He murmured, wrapping his arms around you.

“That makes you sound like a player though,” you said, leaning out of his arms, to gauge his reaction.

His brow rose at your insinuation.

“I…?”

He released you from his chest, taking your hands in his instead.

“I don’t want there to be misunderstandings between us. I’m not here for any other reason than that I really truly like you. But I feel like there’s a barrier between us no matter how sincere I am. Please help me to understand that,” he spoke in low tones, the pads of his thumbs gently tracing the veins on the backs of your hands.

Could he feel the jump in your pulse at his heartfelt inquiry?

“...well…”

“We don’t have to go too fast. I’m not asking you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I can leave if you feel burdened. I don’t want to harm you, ____. Ever,” he brought your hands to his lips, kissing the back and hearts of your palms twice.

“I’m not afraid of you touching me. Or holding me. It’s not the physical intimacy that scares me.  I can feel our hearts becoming closer the longer we spend time together moving at a pace that seems rushed when I think about the amount of time we’ve actually spoken to one another.”

“But my heart says another thing. My heart wants more time. More and more time. It’s so easy to talk with you. To spend time with you. To just be.”

“But do you really, ____? Sometimes I feel that our hearts are in the same place. I feel that we both feel safe together. And that you’re beginning to trust me. But then I can feel you pulling away as if you want to hide instead of remaining in the same place with me. Is there something about me that makes you feel uncomfortable?”

He kept his eyes on the back of your palms, tracing your veins with his forefinger as he gradually let your joined hands drop between you both.

“I…”

How messy was it to explain the gaps between your fingers where he held onto you more tightly than you held onto him?

How soon was too soon to reveal all that you feared?

But he had become close to the entrance to your heart.

He chose to wait there.

Sincerely, just as he said.

“You don’t have to tell me everything at once. But I want you to know that when you are ready that you can tell me everything. I want to know.” He waited for some time before speaking, continuing his gentle rotations against the back of your palm.

Don’t be afraid to love someone, _______.

Life is to be lived in both joy and pain, no matter what happened before.

Don’t be afraid, my darling, my baby girl.

You fidgeted, pulling your hands from his embrace, to cradle his instead.

You brought his hands, the backs of his palms, his fingers, then turned his hands to their center to your lips as well.

He exhaled, slowly. Allowing you to turn him this way and that.

Closing your eyes, you repeated the gesture before bringing his hands to your heart, pressing down until you could feel your heartbeats, his through his hands, and yours atop his.

He leaned forward, brushing the bridge of his nose along the hill of your cheek.

“Please be careful with me,” you whispered, shivering as he kissed the center of your cheek, moving glacially towards your lips.

Then your hands, yours and his, pulled each other closer.

Breaking apart, he hummed against your lips.

“Please be careful with me, also.”

You answered in kind with another kiss.

__________________

7:00 am, the morning of your actual birthday

You awoke curled into his chest, feeling him shiver as you stirred again in his arms, turning into his neck.

Your clothes from the day before that you both still wore were rumpled where they had been pressed and freshly laundered for the surprise special showing he had gifted you the evening before.

His dress shoes were still at the door.

Your pumps had somehow ended up beside them.

He moaned as you shifted your weight, pulling yourself up to a seated position.

His arms followed you where you went, his hands drifting down to your waist, his fingers twitching slightly as you continued to move.

You turned to look at him, seeing that he was still asleep, his lips puffed and bruised as were yours.

You blushed as your eyes trailed to the right of his lips, focusing on his chin, his neck and where his dress shirt were unbuttoned exposing his clavicle.

There you had left your marks.

Seeing his made you bring your hand to your own that he had made; love bites on both sides of your neck, the top of your left shoulder and the stretch of skin just above the mound of your left breast.

Your phone chimed in your purse on the counter and you stood up quickly, hearing him gasp and groan in his sleep.

You made it in time to catch it on the third ring, answering it as you swiped your purse from the counter and hurried down the hall to your bedroom.

“______! Happy birthday love!” _____ (Marseille Reader) exclaimed as soon as you answered, blowing her kazoo into the mouth piece of her phone.

You laughed hoarsely, muffling the volume of the sound.

You thanked her as you started your shower, creating another barrier for your conversation.

“Am I catching you at a bad time? Are you on your way out already? Why is your voice so husky? Is he…? Wait!-”

“Could you be any more nosy?” You sighed to which she laughed.

“Well a very happy birthday to you girl. I’ll hang up now. Text me when you have a minute ok?”

You hung up after you both said goodbye, texting her quickly.

“We didn’t. If that’s what you’re thinking. He just stayed over after we came back from the theater. We slept together but not...not like that.”

Three dots.

“Are you ok? How do you feel about things? I know you’ve been anxious about it for awhile.”

You placed your phone on its designated dish for when you brought it to the bathroom, and went back to your bedroom to place your purse on its hook.

“I’m still nervous about everything. I don’t know why though. You’ve known me long enough to know what I am always like.”

The three dots flashed quicker this time.

“What makes it so different this time?”

You undressed, thinking about her question as you washed your hair, scratching your scalp in slow methodical circles.

When you were rinsed clean, you hurried to change into comfortable sweats, grabbing your hair brush from its holder in your bathroom but turning round in a circle stunned to see that your leave in conditioner was missing.

“Where-”

You went to grab your phone, swiping to open a happy birthday text from your Mom.

“Thank you! I’ll call you in a little bit ok?” You responded quickly before going back to _____‘s (Marseille Reader) text message from before.

“Obviously every situation is different. But...it’s just the way he completely reads me, _____ (Marseille Reader.)”

A question mark.

“Last night we talked after we got back and he wants our relationship to move forward. He officially asked me yesterday. And somehow he realized that though I said and meant yes, I was also still feeling wary about it. And he asked me why? And when I was wondering why he would be willing to trust me so completely, my mom’s voice came back to me telling me that trust is part of the process. No one can really guarantee that things won’t happen.”

“Mmhm”

“Trust is part of the process.”

You felt your hair dripping on your bare shoulder.

“You deserve to be loved the way he wants to love you, _____. Don’t you think you deserve to be wanted and loved like that? If you don’t think you’re ready for that then don’t lead him on. But if you want to love him then don’t be afraid to want and accept that.”

________________

“I’m sorry,” you cried out as you almost collided with him in the hallway.

“I’m so sorry!” He exclaimed also, catching you where you had almost fallen to jump away from him in time as he approached.

“I just wanted to come take a shower because it sounded like you were done. Is that ok? Can I use the towel that you left out? I should have brought some things with me but I didn’t think I would stay over,” his chuckle was nervous as if he was worried that you were going to rescind your invitation.

But you shook off your nerves, reaching out to take his hand in yours to lead him to your bathroom.

“Your hair is different from how it usually is ,” he said aloud, his eyes surveying every wet curl atop your head.

“Yea...I was coming out to get my conditioner that I left in the living room. I was hoping I wouldn’t wake you since you still seemed tired-”

“Oh no I’m fine. So what will you do to your hair now? Just let it dry?” He asked, reaching out a hand to touch one of your curls.

“I’ll be right back if you want to wait right here?” You asked, and left him to look around to find a chair to sit in, hurrying quickly to your guest bathroom to find your leave in conditioner bottle that you had left on the window sill the day before.

You returned to your bedroom to find him looking at the picture frames on your writing desk, those of you and your mother, _____ (Marseille Reader) and you on holiday, you outside of your university holding your diploma.

You moved around him, allowing him to see what he wanted, turning on your radio.

You went into the bathroom, hearing him stir at your writing desk as he watched you go past.

After hunting for your comb you went to sit at your bathroom bench, spritzing your hair with your leave-in conditioner spray you concocted before you began to comb through and part your hair.

You heard him before you saw him at the door of your bathroom, “you can come in. If you want to sit beside me?”

He came slowly, his footsteps soft on your marble floor.

You felt him come closer until he sat down beside you and you shifted over, giving him room.

He sat quietly, watching you as you braided your hair and put it into a bun.

“What’s in that spray bottle? It smells like coconut and something else delicious,” he asked, as you turned back to him, handing him the unopened toothbrush after putting your hair care items away and washing your hands.

“I’ll tell you as soon as you shower ok? What would you like for breakfast?”

__________________

After breakfast, your mother’s chai tea recipe, baguettes, strawberries, and 길거리 토스트, something he asked for but wasn’t positive of the recipe for, you cleaned up the living room and you both moved into your bedroom.

You called your mother back while he showered earlier and she planned to invite both him and his family if they were available for your traditional birthday dinner at her home.

When you asked him over breakfast, if he and they were available later this evening or tomorrow depending on their schedules, he immediately called his mother who called your mother to arrange the dinner for the following evening.

“Did you call off your schedule for the rest of today too?” You chuckled, when he announced that everything was arranged.

He sighed after a long sip of chai, rolling his neck side to side as if he were finally waking up, saying, “I didn’t have anything else scheduled for this weekend. I go back in on Tuesday to record again. I planned ahead. I have time.”

“Time for me?” You asked, enjoying the warmth in your hands from your cup of chai.

“Time for us,” he smiled in return.

_________________

“Come here,” you said, standing with his hands cradling yours.

He followed where you led down the hall past your kitchen, past the half guest bathroom, further down the hall to your bedroom, weaving his fingers between yours in a solid embrace.

You led him to your room, leaving him at the door to get your picture frame.

He waited by the door, not crossing the threshold, until you gave him permission.

_________________

“This love, this love

This love, this love

Let me feel the love, you get to know me

Figured that soul, I hold you only

Take him in and chilling, we keep it rolling

Let me get a hit of, you feeling on me

Let me feel the depth as you get to know me

Figured that soul, I hold you only

Take him in and chilling, we keep it rolling

Let me get a hit of, you feeling on me”

You laid side by side as Cassie sang, her voice tinging the light of the sun’s descent filtering into your bedroom from your curtains in bashful pinks, and deeper reds.

His hand held yours, slipping his fingers between yours, rubbing his thumbs against the inside of the heel of your palm.

You turned, your eyes finding his first where he watched you.

“이쪽으로 오세요,” he whispered, his other arm reaching up and over, creating within himself a circle for you to fill.

You went, snuggling into his chest with your ear over his heart. His arms held you close, one of his hands drifting higher to your now dried hair. At first he petted your hair, gently teasing stray curls from your bun, and eventually his fingers inched along your scalp, scratching you in all the right spots.

You moaned against him, writhing closer.

Until he suddenly stopped.

You opened your eyes just as he reached his hand that had been in your hair beneath your chin, tilting your face up to him, his kiss full and passionate.

You pulled him, by his broad shoulders, wrapping yourself around him, as he turned with you, bringing your thighs around him, his palms spreading along your skin.

“Mm,” he kissed the tender love bites he’d created earlier that morning at dawn, and nosed down further as you pulled at your sweatshirt.

You helped each other out of your clothes, down to your silk and his cotton, chasing each new reveal with another kiss, and another until finally you were free.

He shyly pulled away when you pulled him closer by his hips.

“I-”

“Are you ready or are we moving too fast?” He asked immediately.

You brought your hands to your chest, covering yourself.

“I don’t...if you don’t want to be together...I really don’t want to do this…” he said, his eyes looking and you hushed him with your lips realizing then that you were both nervous about whether you were in the same head space.

“I want to. Je veux.”

“Moi aussi.”

__________

“Mm…” he let out a long low moan as your kisses drifted from his neck.

To alternate between sucking and blowing hotly against his nipples, his chest, his stomach.

He bucked against your sudden kiss at his hips.

The way that you slowly opened your mouth, nibbling at the indent of his hip bone.

While he focused there, panting open mouthed, you reached, sliding an open hand down, past his belly button pushing past curls of hair, grasping him.

“____,” groaning your name at first, you felt him still against you as you opened your mouth.

“Ha...I,” he squirmed involuntarily but towards you.

____________

He was buzzing in your ear, humming as he breathed you in.

You turned into his embrace, your back flush against his chest.

He cradled you, making himself a throne upon which you reigned.

His hands were at your breasts where his mouth had been before he turned you over.

You pulled one of his hands from your breast, as his lips pressed into your neck, murmuring drunkenly against you your name over and over and over.

“Vous pouvez aussi me toucher ici,” you murmured rotating your hips as you brought his hand down further past your belly button, past the silk, past your curls, to you.

“Vous êtes si doux et doux même ici,” he bit at your neck, sucking the skin there as he placed his hand above yours, following your movement.

___________

He turned you to him, taking a handful of your hair in his hands, helping you closer with his other hand spread wide against your behind, as he rocked you higher and higher.

“B-Baekhyun!” in tears you said his name again and again.

__________

“Seeing you again at my party after that first winter we happened to meet left me empty. I tried to wait until we could see each other by chance. But I found myself asking and wondering more. I found every chance to ask about you. But how could I find a way to casually see you being that our careers are what they are?”

“When I saw you again _____. I can’t tell you what it meant to know you were coming.”

You pressed a sleepy, tearful kiss to his Adam’s apple.

“I’m surprised you didn’t give up…” you whispered huskily.

“How can I? My heart belongs to you. There’s nowhere I can go without thinking of you. Not even to sleep, ____. You’re with me always.” He kept a hand at the small of your back, circling from there to the rise of your bottom, while his other hand held your thigh ascending to your knee. He held you to him, with your thigh wrapped over his hip.

“Always?” You asked, your hand that rested on his rising and falling chest, moving up to turn his face down to you.

“Always,” he nodded, nuzzling you and turning until he rested his head on your breast.

You scratched at his scalp and neck, stirring and writhing against him as his drowsy kisses again became urgent.

“B-Baek-Hyun-Ah please…”

How did he know that you liked it like this?

How did he know that you needed him to touch you there?

“Ah foda-se...ha!”

Like that.

Again.

“...please”

More.

“Come here baby,” he murmured against your brows, one hand in your hair, as his other held your thigh, pulling you together until you were blissfully one, again.

____________

[mimiplaysgames]

A Rush of Blood to the Head (4/6)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: T Word Count: 7,895

Summary: Faced with what he has to do, Terra learns that darkness doesn’t matter when it comes to saving the one he loves.

A/N: It’s been a long, long time. I haven’t been well, but I’ve been slowly recovering. I’ve poured a lot of my sadness into this one, and it’s been so relieving to finally finish it and put it out there. Here comes saving Aquanort. Next will be two chapters worth of reconciliation and introspection, and I honestly can’t wait to get to them.

This Dream I’ve Freed

Terra couldn’t find Ventus, and if he did, he’d kill him.

The back entrance of the academy was a large, open room. Long windows situated high on the walls above him embraced the room with so much sun, there wasn’t a shadow to be found except his own. Rough, sky-blue ceramic tiles led the way to tall garden gates. They were gold and elaborate in design that featured vines twisted from the center outward. And they were open. Ventus must have headed for the Master’s beloved gardens, which boasted the most colorful flowers in the Land of Departure.

This back room had a number of large sinks mounted on the walls, normally spent washing off dirt and mud. It was often the case the three students explored the trails out in the fields beyond, and they’d be damned if the Master allowed them to dirty the pristine hallway floors within the castle. Terra approached one, and finally looked at himself in the mirror.

He had already noticed most of the scrawls and doodles that were on his arms. Some of them were cartoonish monsters, inked in black marker. Others were teases and mean words. “Loser” in particular was huge, scribbled across the entirety of his forearm. A doodle of what appeared to be Ventus wielding a large sword was on the other.

Worst of all was a three-worded sentence, written underneath his right tricep: “Terra loves Aqua.” Complete with a large heart bordering them. His most guarded secret on display.

But the mirror showed him one more – a thin, curly mustache traced above his lips.

“What happened to you?” he heard Aqua say, followed by a giggle. No doubt she saw the mustache as she flashed a half-cocked smile, suppressing a laugh. “You should grow out facial hair. It’d look good on you.”

His first instinct was to keep his tricep close to him, so that she wouldn’t see the incriminating evidence.

“I was sparring with Ven.” He turned the sink on, and began to wash his forearms - though it was more important that he kept calm and collected so she wouldn’t suspect anything. “Him and his ridiculous spells.”

“Of course, it’s Ven we’re talking about.” She leaned on the edge of the sink, her free hand rested on her hip. “He used Sleep on the Master once, just so that he could procrastinate on an essay.”

“Tell me the Master still didn’t find out about that.”

“He never did,” she said uncomfortably, as if she was guilty for even knowing about it. “But you’re avoiding my question.”

“Ven cast Stop on me,” he said, eyeing the doodles, “and did all this while I was frozen.”

Aqua lifted her hand to her mouth to disguise her snort, but there was no way she was able to hide how funny she thought it was. Perhaps putting up with the doodles was worth it, just to see her this way: eyes squinting and watering, cheeks puffed, smile wide. Beautiful.

Not that he could ever tell her he’d be willing to go that far to make her laugh. “Wait until he does it to you, and see how you’ll feel.”

She lifted her hands up, as if in surrender. “Okay, I’ll stop. I swear,” she said, a few straggling chuckles escaping her lips.

He wiped his face with water, specifically with his left hand so the love message wouldn’t get exposed. “Well, if you see Ven, send him my way.”

“Ah,” she smacked her lips and shook a finger, which was expected. “That means I have to play babysitter and get in between you two.” She waved her arm dismissively when he flashed her a look of disapproval. “You’ll both thank me later when I spare you from being grounded. I won’t clean up after you guys, either.”

He knew why she would say that. The last time he and Ventus exchanged revenge pranks, the kitchen was destroyed. Explosive, ground shattering magic. Most of the evidence blamed Terra for the destruction, but the Master scolded Ventus for being provocative. They were both grounded and tasked with rebuilding it.

“I’ll give him nothing more than a noogie, I promise,” he said.

“Oh, please.” She made her way to the garden gates, her hand tracing their vinyl architecture. “Knowing the two of you, the library will be next.”

To her, it was probably nothing more than a typical day of preventing some accident. But he had surely averted a crisis as she walked away. Finally relaxed, he rubbed soap and water onto his tricep, the heart streaking black ink down his skin.

He stood up from his bed and immediately checked his nightstand - just to be sure it was still there, safe.

It was exactly where he left it before he went to sleep the night before. Her blue Wayfinder, perfect in condition and reflecting a bright radiance with its deep hue. Next to it was his own: broken, with a crack on one of the wings of the star. The silver border on that side was dislodged and severely bent, sticking straight out. He found it in this state the day he reunited with his armor, though he was grateful it wasn’t in worse condition from these odd thirteen years. As much as he treasured his orange Wayfinder, and as much as having it in his possession made him feel more complete, it really paled in comparison to hers.

For the last couple of weeks, he checked to see if hers was still there every single morning with the same desperation. He checked it every hour when he hung it around his neck - because losing it was by far a harsher reality than the one he was living now.

He sighed a breath of relief, and gazed out of his bedroom window at the mountains beyond. The sun didn’t shine as much as it used to in the Land of Departure. At least that was what it seemed to Terra. There was always a possibility that he didn’t remember it right. It was overcast, the clouds moving so slowly he was sure there was no wind blowing. It reminded him of the stillness in the castle - which he hated the most apart from the silence. Apart from the fact that she wasn’t here.

Terra flipped his legs over the side of his bed. Most of the castle had been destroyed the day the Master died, but his bedroom was as messy as it used to be. Like he left it on a typical day, and simply forgot to come back. His room was a relic: proof he had a life before Xehanort.

Clothes littered on the floor, across chairs, and stacked in corners. Papers scattered on the desk. Books hiding in random spots nearly everywhere. One particular book he had completely forgotten about: The Tales of Robin Hood, which donned a withered cover depicting a fox and a bear wearing tunics and hats. They had bows and arrows, and excitable smiles, looking forward to whatever rich lion they got to plunder next. The pages were yellowed, undisturbed by anything but time and an obsessed nine-year-old boy who used to read it every month in his young life. Inside the cover as an unevenly written claim of possession: This book belongs to Terra.

Robin Hood was the perfect hero the people needed to free them from tyranny. Smart, resourceful, witty, compassionate.

A nine-year-old Terra dreamed of becoming a Keyblade Master so he, too, could help other people and live the same example.

A twenty-year-old Terra sat on the edge of his bed in his dilapidated childhood home, with nothing to show for it. 

It was with his own hands, after all, that the worlds were in danger. His body at worst was a weapon, at best was living its own life when Xehanort was in control of it. Like he was wearing a suit. Yet Terra remembered nothing of these long years. He knew that Xehanort was the perpetrator for the hordes of Heartless that were threatening the entire multi-verse. Every person who has turned into a monster was blood on his own hands. But he didn’t know how often he tinkered in a lab. What kinds of chemicals he played with. Exactly what he did when he experimented on others. If he killed or tortured people. The clothes he wore. Who he talked to and what about. What he ate and if any of it made him sick.  When he slept and when he pulled all-nighters. If other people touched him. If other women were involved.

Terra knew he shouldn’t dwell on such thoughts, especially with no proof of the tinier details. But there came the cologne Xehanort would wear: a stench of patchouli, invading his nose. It didn’t matter how often he washed himself, somehow that smell always lingered. He already knew his body did things he didn’t want to do, and he didn’t need the reminder.

He grabbed her Wayfinder because under no circumstances would he leave the room without it. Gently placing it on his bathroom sink, he tore his clothes off and threw himself under the boiling water of his shower. He allowed his skin to burn away, hoping that this time it would stick. That all traces of Xehanort and that nauseating cologne would be incinerated for good this time. He scrubbed it raw, just to be extra certain. And he stood there, allowing the minutes to fly by as the water trickled down his skin, until he was convinced he was clean. Steam filled the entirety of the bathroom, and he only relaxed when the last sensations he felt were his own sweat coming down and the aroma of his sandalwood products clogging his nose.

His mirror was completely fogged up when he turned the water off. The skin all over his torso and arms was red from his scrubbing. But he was cleansed for now. The first order of business was to put on a clean shirt – this one a dark gray – before untying the clasp of her Wayfinder and drawing it around his neck. Its blue brilliance was flashy in comparison to anything he wore, but he was fine with that. This was the end of shower number one for the day – normally he would take three. Two if he was out for too long.

Finished and dressed, and with his bent orange Wayfinder in his pocket, Terra left his room and passed by hers. He knew it was better if he continued along and not go in. He knew it. But he couldn’t help himself – like a moth to a flame, he wondered if he preferred to torture himself, and opened the door.

Her bedroom, too, was untouched by anything.

She was always a neat and orderly person. Her desk was arranged and organized, books stacked neatly in a pile. Quills and pencils in their cases. Her work desk is mostly bare, because anything she had were stored in her drawers. A craft desk was right by it, and it was also tidy, with only a sewing machine to show for it and the rest of her supplies and trinkets organized in boxes.

She also fancied herself as the type of student that stayed out of trouble. Her dresser stood tall, no nicks or scratches into the wood like his own, because she actually followed the rules and never swung her practice weapons in her bedroom. On top of it was a collection of decorations, one of which was a sculpted dolphin that he made out of wood. He made it as a birthday gift. Maybe for her twelfth birthday? Or eleventh?

Her bed was made and the technique of it was pristine. As if she left early that morning, and would be back later that night.

Terra stared into her room. It was a fossil, sure, but proof that she used that sewing machine, and wrote essays on her desk. That he had a best friend growing up. He gently closed her door, caressing it as though it was precious.

Passing by Ventus’ room, he heard faint snoring. Peeking inside, he saw the boy sprawled out on his bed, one arm hanging off the edge, and the other thrown over his forehead. His breathing was deep and rhythmic through his open mouth, a bit of drool slipping out.

This bedroom could be best described as organized chaos: Ventus wasn’t a messy person, but his haven was a treasure trove of all the trinkets, clothes, décor, and gifts that Terra and Aqua had brought to him from their travels. One from each world they had visited. So while he had beads hanging from his lamp post, numerous tapestries covering his walls, and too many miniature statues propped on his desk, everything had a place. It was neat – just cluttered.

Ventus woke up the same boy he was thirteen years ago, unaware of anything that had happened. When he was told about what happened to the Master and Aqua, Terra found himself enduring crying fits and raging smacks on his chest. What on earth where you doing all this time, Terra? How could you have let all this happen? Ventus had screamed that day. Turning Castle Oblivion back into the way it used to be was a silently awkward experience, and it took several days before Ventus could finally start to act his normal self again.

It didn’t take long for Ventus to say he was sorry. It was comforting to know that he wasn’t hated, but Terra knew he was at fault anyway, and didn’t think he deserved the apologies. But this was in the past now. Watching his little brother, sleeping peacefully as though everything was normal, was soothing. A member of his family was back home, safe. If Ventus could find an inner tranquility to sleep through the night, then maybe it was a good omen for what was to come.

Not that Ventus would ever let Terra walk away without whining about how annoying that was, if he was caught watching over him like that. I’m not a child anymore, Terra.

The castle was so quiet that no other sound existed to smother any noise Terra would make, so he closed the door behind him as quietly as he could. Ventus could think he slept like a respectable adult today. A bullet dodged.

Days in the castle demanded too much attention and care. When they weren’t out doing missions or hunting Heartless, they spent their time fixing. And fixing. And fixing some more. But it was never enough, and the repairs were done too slowly to make that much of a difference.

The lounge area, where they used to spend time studying, hanging out, and making blanket forts together, had its outer wall completely blown open. The water damage from thirteen years’ worth of thunderstorms left behind veins of black mold that cracked through the plaster, and most of the furniture was missing.

Far too many rooms to count had the ceilings collapsed inside. The vast majority of the floors were cracked, so all of the tiles had to be replaced. Some of the outer towers were completely gone. They found one of them sprawled out over a waterfall some miles below, trees already growing through the rubble.

Some hallways, particularly the ones leading to the back of the castle, were blocked by rubble, though Terra has gotten far enough in clearing one of them. The main staircase of the west wing had also fallen completely apart, and they couldn’t use it to reach the upper floors. He passed by a cardboard box of paintings, all standing straight as if in a file. These paintings, all of them either gifts given to Eraqus by his friends or were heirlooms from Masters of the past, were displaced.

Terra could find new walls to hang them up – but that meant it wouldn’t be home anymore. Home meant that these paintings were to be hung where they used to be. Anywhere else was a poor excuse of one. So they sat there for now, waiting to return to their proper places.

The Master’s study was spared from any real damage, though it looked as though an earthquake had shuffled it: bookshelves turned over, furniture out of place, dust and soot shot out from the fireplace. The messiest of all was the large, dark mahogany desk, with all the books, letters, and scattered around as though the table threw its own contents out in a fit. The windows were thankfully still intact, overlooking the back area of the castle. The Master used to watch his gardens grow from here. Now, the gardens were overtaken with weeds and patches of dry dirt.

This room was the most important – Terra wanted to arrange it back exactly the way it was, but he had too much work ahead of him. It didn’t smell of the Master anymore, merely something that was empty and void of any real life. Yet despite the horrendous mess, it was still so familiar.

Terra could picture the Master sitting at his desk, the morning sun shining through the windows as he whittled away at another letter with his pen, a mug of coffee close by. Smiling up at him behind that bushy mustache, his voice warm and content.

Good morning, Terra. I hope your dreams were pleasant. May the rest of your day be brighter.

Eraqus always greeted everyone each day with that phrase. What Terra would give to hear it now.

He opened the Master’s leather-bound journal where he logged his daily messages. Eraqus had the most legible, impeccable form for handwriting, as though he made it an art of his own. His cursive strokes were carefully crafted over years of perfecting the technique, as though he made sure to respect every thought that passed through his own mind.

Terra had read the last three entries to his Master’s log several times – remnants of his final thoughts and plans the day of his death. To see if he could feel what the Master felt in those final hours.

He turned over several pages where he went through his own entries. His handwriting was scratchy and uneven, as though he stayed a child. He picked up a quill and dipped it into fresh ink, then gazed over to the message-globe on the desk. It was a magical object, with a curved base that held a spinning, metallic, semicircular apparatus, and a tight golden harp string down the middle. When plucked, the string set off a vibration that summoned the apparatus to spin and blur until a glowing sphere took its place. The Master used this for receiving and sending messages in private.

Since coming back to the castle, Terra logged inquiries, cries for help, and everything in between that was sent to the Land of Departure since the Master’s death. They served as notes for worlds he would visit, to see if he could still save them. He wrote the date for the newest entry, the sender of the latest message, and some notes.

This new message was the exact dispatch he’d been waiting for.

Terra knew that today was going to be different, but difficult. He’d better get started.

Hurrying over to the kitchen, he filled a pot with flour, beef broth, and salt, and started boiling. Terra didn’t memorize recipes for stews – they were simple enough to make. But it wasn’t like he made them as delicious as Aqua’s. Potatoes, carrots, and onions, but these barely did anything to add a complex taste, and Ventus had complained enough about the bland food. He sprawled out different seasonings and stared at them for a while after gently adding slabs of beef into the pot. Paprika, a sprinkle of it. Perhaps Aqua would have added more for flavor, so he dumped a portion. Then he cut garlic. She probably would have relied on these the most, so he cut some more. Peppers – the more, the merrier. A hefty sum of cayenne.

Anything to make it flavorful. Aqua would have poured a mouthful of spices, right?

The kitchen was baked in an aroma that burned his eyes when Ventus approached the dining table.

“Morning, buddy,” Terra said. He tried to sound cheerful, and hoped it was successful.

Ventus mumbled an attempt at a greeting while rubbing his eyes, and waddled over to his chair.

Terra added a small amount of milk and stirred into the stew in order to tame it, before pouring a bowl of it in front of his friend. “This will certainly clear the sinuses.”

Ventus took one look at it. “Another stew.”

“I promise this will pack a punch.” Terra poured himself a bowl and sat at the head of the table. A pause. He wanted to at least start the day right. “I hope your dreams were pleasant, Ven. May the rest of your day be brighter.”

It sounded unnatural, coming from his lips. He didn’t know if he should mimic his Master’s enunciations, or if he should give it his own personality.

Ventus gazed at him, giving a sad smile while he nodded to himself. “With practice, it will sound better.” He meant it as a joke, but it came out morose.

Teasing was good. It was a form of affection that was appreciated. But some things have changed since their reunion. Normally, Ventus would nag him about the constant showering, but he didn’t.

He never teased about the fact that Aqua’s Wayfinder was always found around Terra’s neck, either. Terra didn’t take this as a sign of resentment, but one of respect.

The two boys picked at their food, the clash between spoon and bowl ringing in the hushed dining room as they slurped. Ventus sniffled, the intense amount of spices making his nose run.

There wasn’t an easy way to bring it up – the conversation about “the plan” was one that usually got tense. The Master would be entirely disappointed with what they were aiming to do. Lectures of how imperative it was to protect people, and how forbidden it was to ever use the Keyblade against the heart of another lingered in his mind. It was a path to darkness, but it was their best shot at getting her back. The best course of action, then, was to just get it over with.

“I got a message back from Yen Sid’s tower,” Terra said. “The good fairies agreed to meet us at Enchanted Dominion.”

Ventus shot a look up from his bowl, his attention caught. “Okay. But why there?”

Terra swirled his spoon into his stew. “I need to apologize to Princess Aurora,” he said slowly. They knew what he was talking about, and neither of them were going to go into detail as to why. “I also need to ask her a few questions.”

“To execute the plan,” There was a sense of bitterness in Ventus’ tone. He wasn’t alone, because both of them hated what they were going to do. “So I’ll just train with the fairies there?”

Terra took a long breath, looked at his friend straight in the eye, and kept his voice low. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. It isn’t pretty, seeing Aqua the way she is.”

“I want to help.” Ventus leaned forward with a fist on the table, his eyes glaring with determination. “I need to.”

“Okay,” Terra said with a small smile. Part of him felt relieved. “You’re better with the tricksy stuff anyway. We’ll head out as soon as breakfast is finished.”

Ventus gave out a half-hearted chuckle, not used to being trusted so much. He must be anxious about it, too. He said so before. While he fiddled more with his food, Terra reached out and held him firmly on the shoulder, in a manner meant to be comforting.

“When you see Aqua,” he told Ventus, “make sure to smile at her. Can you do that for me?”

It was late afternoon in San Fransokyo when they arrived. The sun cast out a warm, orange hue over the vast metropolis, which normally would host millions of hustling people. But not today.

Today, Heartless and data corruption overtook the city, and the people have evacuated. Some citizens have equipped themselves with the machinery to fight back, and were flying across the skies as they battled against armies of darkness.

The young Xehanort was in town. This alone interested Terra, but what convinced the both of them to come after their excursion in Enchanted Dominion was a short message from Sora: She’s here.

Terra and Ventus tracked down the time traveler. And she was, in fact, there with him - down an empty street, blocks away from the warfare Sora was leading against hordes of large Heartless.

Sneaking through a nearby alleyway and hiding behind opposing dumpsters, they were still too far away to eavesdrop on what the two cloaked Organization members were discussing. Aqua had her arms crossed, not giving Xehanort much of the respect to look at him while she answered his requests. They talked on, as if they had no idea about the combat that was happening streets away.

Ventus, crouching behind his dumpster and looking over his shoulder, let out a sigh when he saw her. But he did well to keep those feelings in.

Her hair was nearly white now, but what was most unsettling were her facial expressions. Some were worn on her face with familiarity – boredom, anticipation, annoyance. But when she smiled, it was bizarre. It was devilish, it was cocky.

“Sometimes, I wasn’t sure which Aqua I was dealing with,” Terra said in a hushed voice. His throat was constricted, his heart pounding so hard it was about to burst out and bleed over. Even though he had seen her like this before, it was still just as unbearable as the first time.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I can’t tell if it’s Aqua, if it’s Xehanort… or strangely, if it’s both of them…” his voice trailed off. When he was the one possessed, he had no control. But there were still voices he heard in the darkness, constantly keeping him quiet and asleep, telling him to give up. Was it the same for her? Was she better at fighting them off, or was she constantly losing every day?

He held her Wayfinder, resting on his chest. “You know Aqua is a slow burner when she gets angry.”

Ventus shrugged, smirking. “Sometimes.”

Terra couldn’t help himself but let out a chuckle. “Well, this Aqua acts like she’s doused in gasoline. Any small thing you say can make her explode - if she sets off at all. Her moods change in seconds, and you never know how she will react.”

“You talk about her like she’s a completely different person.”

“I…” He stroked her Wayfinder with his thumb, swallowing a lump in his throat. “I’m not sure what to make of her, honestly.” He just wished she was back to normal.

A shadow grew and formed an archway behind her, an incredibly large man wearing the same robe stepping out from it. Shoulder-length white hair, dark-skinned, barrel-chested, more than a head taller than her, with Terra’s face.

Ventus leaned onto his dumpster and squinted his eyes to get a closer look. “Who the heck is that?”

The replacement. It was shocking at first, like seeing a mirror image but one that had a lifeform of its own. Almost like an out of body experience. But his expressions were different too. Terra was sure he didn’t look like that when he smiled.

Either way, this Aqua had a new Terra of her own.

“Ugh…” Ventus shuddered. “I hope I never get a clone made out me, that’s creepy.”

He might have said that too loud. Aqua turned her head their direction, and they ducked back against the walls of the alleyway as fast as they could. They held their breaths, and inched their knees to their chests, as if to completely disappear behind the cover of the dumpsters.

They waited several seconds like this before Terra slowly inched forward, trying to hear if someone was approaching. Silence. He risked a peek.

“Sorry,” he heard Ventus whisper. “Did she see us?”

It seemed she hadn’t. The Terra-clone was moving his mouth, Xehanort attentive to his words. A half-cocked smile showed itself on her face, as if she found what he said only mildly funny.

Aqua said something, reaching her hand to touch the elbow of the clone. He gazed upon her, but this expression – this one – was perfectly readable. He did his best to remain calm, but a creeping smile and a glint in his eyes showed that he relished her touch.

Terra could relate to what that felt like and whipped his head back behind the dumpster. Put simply, he couldn’t bear to watch her touch that man. Losing her to darkness was devastating. But Terra was certain that his chest became several pounds heavier, and that his heart was nearly choked out of him because he also lost her to a substitute.

“You okay?” Ventus asked. He was leaning against his dumpster, but he was watching Terra with such concern and sympathy. “They’re leaving.”

He told himself that he would survive this, and reluctantly looked over his shoulder again. She led the clone through a newly opened corridor of darkness. They left behind Xehanort, who barked orders as they faded away.

“She’s gone. What now?” Ventus let out a sharp sigh.

What now, indeed. A vessel for Master Xehanort, Aqua was certainly a threat to all worlds. Yet she was entirely unstable. The younger one was an anomaly, protected by his own powerful magic and time travel. He was a haunting and was just as much of a menace (and perhaps more so) because of her condition. To protect this world, they all have to go down.

Terra knew on some level, this was about revenge, too. Though he didn’t care if this was unsightly for a proper Keyblade wielder anymore.

“We need to get her alone if we’re going to do anything,” Terra finally said, watching the younger Xehanort start to walk away. “But we also have a duty as Keyblade wielders…

“Ven, listen.” They looked into each other’s eyes, as if discussing a matter of military importance. “I need you to be my surprise factor. You should find a spot higher up on these skyscrapers, but not too far. I’m going to ambush Xehanort, and you need to be ready for my signal so you can strike him from above.”

“What about Aqua?”

“With him out of the way, we can focus on separating her from the other one.” Terra leaned forward and grabbed Ventus by the shoulder, his stare more intense as he needed this last message to stick. “I need you to wait for my call.”

He needed to protect Ventus, and would rather have use him as a finishing blow than keep him around too long in the heat of battle.

Ventus nodded immediately, his eyes full of resolve. “You can count on me.”

With that, the boy hopped over through an open window, disappearing into an unfurnished building where he started to climb up stairs. Terra stepped out of the alleyway, briskly following his target. But he made no effort to keep quiet.

Xehanort stopped in his tracks and faced him. If he was surprised, he made good effort not to show it. “The last time you and I spoke,” he began, his eyes narrowing in amusement and his smirk broadening, “you said I’d be afraid of you upon our next meeting.”

Terra said nothing in return, but instead summoned his Master’s Defender. It was lighter in weight than his own Keyblade, but it packed a magical punch that protected him more efficiently from severe attacks. It was a formidable weapon, but it had more to do with wielding the love for his lost ones. With her Wayfinder and Eraqus’ Keyblade, he would still have a hold onto light - even if he didn’t think he had any left for himself anymore.

“You failed,” Xehanort continued.

He succeeded. He failed. He heard both from the same, twisted man and it meant nothing.  The one thing that was necessary was to shove that smug face right into the concrete.

“I know for a fact that today, you’ll see the end of yourself,” Terra said, perhaps too confidently.

No, he could risk being cocky. He also had Ventus by his side.

Xehanort called for his own Keyblade, unique in its design and barely resembling the old man’s. “Need I remind you this is why you’d fall so easily as a victim to darkness? You’ve served your purpose well as a preservative for long enough. Yet you are such a weakling.”

There was no time to spit a smart retort over being such a disappointment. Xehanort warped to close the gap between them, and he kept this level of aggression throughout.

Terra was kept constantly on his feet to dodge each strike toward him. A strong magic user who loved to rely on deception, Xehanort particularly enjoyed zipping in between positions, just to get Terra to lean one direction so he could be struck from behind. It kept him on the edge of a puppet’s string, and he was played like a cat attempting to strike a fly. Xehanort was fast, his magic damaging.

But his strikes were weak. All that was needed was for Terra to endure. Dodge, endure. Wait for the opportune moment.

Until their Keyblades clashed. Terra, of course, was stronger, and was able to push Xehanort back. Now that the previous rhythm had been interrupted, the tables had turned and Terra took this opportunity to get more aggressive. To create his own flow in between Xehanort’s teleportations, and throw counter-strikes.

What was left was to maneuver Xehanort close enough to Ventus’ building. He’d let his friend, his comrade, his brother, do the rest.

And he almost had his victory, until she called out –

“Enough.”

Aqua casually strolled up to them, the sway in her walk self-assured, her face not impressed with what she had seen.

This was bad. It wasn’t about going up against two incredibly powerful opponents. Rather, Terra simply refused to raise a finger on her body. He wouldn’t ask Ventus to do the same, either. He prepared his fighting stance, ready to summon his glider so he could escape. Yet, he couldn’t keep his eyes away. It had been a while since he last saw her, and to think of leaving her behind... Yet… what if he had no choice?

He kept his grip on his Master’s Keyblade.

Xehanort glared at her. “Where is Xemnas?”

“We’ve got trouble.”  She crossed her arms as she took her place by Xehanort’s side. She glanced at Terra for merely a short second, but kept her focus on her partner. Her stare was unwavering, like a cat watching prey.

“Enough to incapacitate him?” He almost sounded disbelieving. But his eyes contorted with frustration and he huffed. “We’ll disable the Keyblade wielder here, then. Ventus would then be completely unprotected.”

That last statement was an attempt at arousing Terra’s anger, but it didn’t work. He just couldn’t focus.

Her stare. She stared at Xehanort as if she was studying him. It was deadpan and placid, like she was losing herself in his face, and each moment she kept relaxed and stayed silent, Terra knew. This was the face of someone who was ready to throw herself into the abyss.

She nonchalantly waved her arm around, her palm open. Shot from it was a gathering of lightning bolts so powerful that it sent Xehanort flying across the street, crashing into the wall of a building. He fell onto the ground, his body laying lifelessly. His Keyblade dissipated, leaving him defenseless and unconscious.

She flexed her fingers vigorously. Ventus was still watching, waiting for a cue. But Terra couldn’t allow this to turn into a fight. He was desperate to know if she was safe and okay, yet he was terrified of speaking. How unpredictable was she going to be this time? What did any of this mean?

“Going rogue?” he finally asked, as if giving her a friendly question.

“Taking out the trash.” She sounded like herself, but her voice was deeper. It was tired, yet full of spite. “I’ve no need for those who’ve hurt me.” With those last two words, she finally looked at him, her gold eyes piercing.

He shook his head. “I’m not going to fight you, Aqua.”

Her face shuddered, as if she was processing an insult. She cocked her head to the side. “How courteous of you to consider my feelings,” she said through her teeth, sarcasm oozing through.

“I don’t want to be your enemy.”

Her eyes widened, and he swore he could see her pupils shrinking. She started to stride toward him with such nerve that it looked like she was preparing herself to slap him.

“Enemies,” she said mockingly, “friends. It’s too late for them to matter anymore.”

With that, she waved her hand to flash a set of threatening bolts his way. He blocked them, but it forced him to stagger backward. Even with the magical boost the Defender provided, it wasn’t a match for her power and mastery over spells.

Terra held his open palm to the ground, as if commanding a dog to stay. A cue to stand ground. Ventus shouldn’t swoop in to help him. Not now. Not yet.

“Who are you signaling to?” She threw another wave of bolts. He blocked again, but barely matched her speed. This time, he stumbled.

“Don’t mock me,” she growled. “Fight back!”

Her next wave hit him directly. The electricity gripped his entire body and stabbed him several times. His heart beat terribly and quickly, as if begging to be taken out or it would die. But he stood his ground. Allowed the dark energy of her magic to channel through his body and toward the Keyblade, using it as a conductor. Enduring the pain, whimpering from it.

When it was over, he immediately reached for her Wayfinder. It was still intact. He finally remembered to breathe.

“Did it hurt?” he heard her ask.

Then it dawned on him. The shock she sent Xehanort took him out of the ring completely in one swoop. He wondered if she was the trouble that fell on Xemnas.

But her attack this time didn’t even compare in power. She was holding back on him, just to see him wince.

“I get it now,” he said, his voice shaking. He started to tremble, unsure if he wanted to hear what he was going to say. Scared of how she would react. “You want me to feel pain.” 

She pursed her lips.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” he continued. “You want me to hurt.” He raised his voice. “Well it does. I am miserable every day. I can’t stand to see you this way. I can’t stand to be away from you, and I hate that I still exist while you continue to suffer for my sake!”

Her brows furrowed and her eyes started to tear, as if she realized something horrific. She grabbed her left arm rapidly, as if she was suffering intense pain. Her grip was so strong, it twisted the fabric of her cloak.

“You should have left me to rot in the Realm of Darkness, Aqua. I would have at least found some peace knowing you were safe.” He stopped yelling, but it was a struggle to keep his voice even. “So yes, it does hurt. Does that make you feel better?”

Her breath was shallow and she didn’t let go of her grip on herself. She leaned into her arm, as if seeking comfort for herself. She shook her head. “No. It doesn’t.”

Terra sighed, willfully ignoring the soreness throughout his whole body, and how tight his chest felt. He stepped forward and reached his hand out. “Come with us, then. Come home.” He caught a sob before it left him. “We just want you to get better.”

“Get better.” She said it in a way to mimic him. Her eyes scattered the ground and darted in many directions around her. What was going through her mind?

He couldn’t ask her. Aqua had this look of gloom, as if suddenly being told the most devastating secret only she could hear. She let go of her grip and clutched her fist at her heart. Shaking, she whimpered, and collapsed backward.

“Aqua!” he gasped, running toward her and dropping the Defender on the ground. He cradled her in his arms, holding her firmly so she’d stop trembling. She looked into his eyes, her own wide in fear. She groaned through closed lips, trying so hard to speak to him but couldn’t.

Her hands shook violently, yet she managed to pull one of her gloves off. The tips of her fingers were bright red, the rest of her arm a burnt violet. It was unsightly, and- was she turning inhuman? It took her a lot of effort, but she raised it to touch his cheek.

Her fingers were deathly cold, hardened, and scaly. Like a lizard’s skin. She cupped his cheek, her thumb feeling the width of his face. He reached to hold her hand in his, which was still so petite in comparison. He held it tenderly, trying to warm it up, yet mortified of shattering her to pieces if he squeezed too tightly. 

“Terra!” Ventus landed on the ground and skidded over to where they were. “Whoa,” he said when he saw the state of her skin, “did that happen to you?”

“No,” he said, not taking his gaze away from her. She held it in return, searching his eyes as if finding a reason to continue on. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

“Then what do we do?”

“We stick to the plan,” he said without missing a beat. There was nothing else that they knew to do, and she needed help now.

Aqua continued to stare up at him, like a child gazing through the window of a candy store. She didn’t acknowledge Ventus’ presence at all, and it made him wonder whether she was truly conscious of what she was looking at.

“Hey,” he called to her with a soft smile, “Ven’s here. Look.” He gently coaxed her hand over and pointed his finger.

She blinked and slowly followed his lead, as though it took her a while to comprehend what she was doing.

“Hey, Aqua,” Ventus said, though his voice was completely shaken by nerves. He smiled, albeit it was forced and intimidated, and he shot several sideways glances toward Terra as if to beg for instructions on what to do.

At the sight of his smile, her eyes widened and she moaned with awe. She reached out to touch him, and he took her hand with both of his own.

“We’re finally together again,” he said, keeping a grin up and trying not break down. “Terra kind of sucks with cooking and it’s too quiet. I’ve missed you, Aqua. We both have.”

She whimpered in response, her eyes watery.

Xehanort was still unconscious, sprawled out on the ground. They’d better get this over with, before any reinforcements threaten to take her back again.

“We’re going to help you, Aqua,” Terra said, and she returned her golden eyes back to him, softening when looking into his. He adjusted his arms so that her head was supported better, to make her more comfortable. “It’s not going to hurt. Okay? You’re not going to feel a single little thing.” His breathing deepened. This sucked. But it had to be done. “Trust me.”

She blinked several times in response, the twitch in her brows almost begging for some salvation.

“Ven is going to put you into a very deep sleep.”

Her pupils dilated, and in desperation she grabbed onto his shirt, her strength so fragile that she scratched him through the fabric. Her face quivered furiously, and she finally managed to move her mouth to speak.

“Don’t leave me,” she pleaded. Her voice was hoarse, shaky, and barely audible.

He took her hand and carried it over her Wayfinder, safely resting on his chest. “I will be by your side the entire time, Aqua. I promise.”

He meant it. It was a promise he made for himself, as well. 

Eventually she nodded, though her head waggled a bit and made circular movements.

Terra gestured toward his comrade with his head, a blessing to finally start.

Ventus intertwined his fingers together, attempting to steady his breathing. Like someone willing themselves to do something they were frightened of, he finally summoned his Keyblade in his left hand, and pet the top of her crown with his right. Hovering the Keyblade over her forehead, he closed his eyes and calmed himself. He didn’t say anything, but eventually the Wayward Wind glowed with a soft blue light. This was the spell he learned from the good fairies.

Her eyes fluttered and relaxed, gently shutting as the tension in her entire body released. She leaned more into Terra’s embrace, as if she knew she was protected.

“You did good, Ven,” Terra said, nodding in approval and encouragement.

Ventus withdrew his Keyblade, gulping. He looked as though he was slightly nauseous.

If she was going to be stuck with the gradient blue-to-white hair after this was over, she’d still be stunning. Terra brushed the hair off her face, stroking the skin of her forehead before going to her cheek. Her face was still soft, yet not as warm as it should be. She looked peaceful and carefree in her sleep, and deservedly so.

“Terra?”

Ventus shifted uncomfortably, looking back toward Xehanort for signs of movement. It was dusk now. They were taking too long.

“Right.” The Master’s Keyblade laid by itself on the ground, but Terra wouldn’t dare taint it. It would have been disrespectful in his memory.

He summoned his own Keyblade, which was used to do the forbidden once before. Wielders were supposed to be protectors of light and hearts. Even when manipulated and forced by an evil witch, Terra remembered what it felt like to pull a heart out of a body, which was a terrible and forbidden act. To wield the power to mess with a person’s life.

Now he was faced with the choice to do it again, but toward the person he cared about most. What kind of Keyblade Master could he ever be if he was doing the things that would make someone like Xehanort pleased?

He could ask for her forgiveness, but this was just an addition to the list of things he needed pardon for. 

He could tell her he loved her again, but that was a pain that stabbed hard. A sober Aqua may still leave him after all.

But none of that mattered. He still owed her freedom, and he would go that far to grant it.

Without anything meaningful to say, Terra aimed his Keyblade toward her chest, and called for two hearts.

[remindersofgrace]

Reflection on the Decade

Recently, I was inspired by a blogpost by Justin Buzzard to take the time to reflect on and to share with others about my decade. After 4 hours of reading through old blog posts and scrolling through pictures, my heart is welling up with gratitude and awe at the ways that the Lord has been supremely faithful through the many seasons of my life. This post is a long one, but I hope these words can remind you that God is intimately involved in the details of your life’s narrative, and in His perfect wisdom, faithful love, and sovereign power, He takes every part of your story to show off His steadfast love.

2010: 

- I am a sophomore advisor for a hall of wonderful, rambunctious freshmen alongside Bethaney Herrington, and love it. 

- I lead VBS music at CBCM together with my sister during the summer and have an absolute blast. This year, the music is a western theme and the lyrics are so incredibly rich. I still remember all of the lyrics. 

- I travel with a group from Nurses Christian Fellowship to Kampala, Uganda as a vision trip to see what the Lord in doing amongst nurses in Uganda and to partner with organizations there like NewstART. I am floored by the believers in Uganda, whose faith is not flashy or eloquent, but strong, faithful, and committed wholeheartedly to their awesome Savior. 

-I start my first year of nursing school and for one of the first times in my life, am not able to quit something that I don’t feel immediately good at. I struggle with daily anxiety and self-condemnation, and the Lord uses it to reveal how much my hope was in my performance and success. 

- I find a home away from home at Veritas Church, and am frequently in the Slagle home. 

-Eden and I have one of our most stagnant years in our relationship in the midst of Eden working 100+ hour weeks with investment banking in NY, and me being too tired and self-absorbed to engage after trying days of nursing school. We are both struggling spiritually but not close enough to each other to realize how bad it is.

- My sister and I put on a in-home sushi night dinner for our dad and have a ton of fun dressing up as waitresses.

2011:

- I finish my first year of nursing school and start my second. I continue to struggle a lot in nursing school and struggle with what might have been a depression. 

- I become a leader at Emory Christian Fellowship and struggle a lot with fear of man and discouragement as the attendance is small and inconsistent. 

- I meet regularly with a wonderful, Spirit-filled, lover-of-the-Word woman named Skip McDonald who shepherds me in learning how to actually have a personal relationship with my Living Savior and is a vessel from the Lord to break down a lot of the legalistic ideologies I have been believing for so long. 

- I room with 3 amazing ladies named Mary, Kala, and Hannah. Our year is filled with lots of laughter, poorly done P90x videos, and dancing (some better than others). (BG02!!) 

- my family records our first ever 4-part Christmas carol together and it is an amazing and hilarious experience. 

-Eden moves to Los Angeles and finds a church home and a renewed faith at Reality LA, and he transforms into the godly man and spiritual leader that I want to marry. 

2012:

- I take my community health class and realize I have found my people. I find a mentor in Monica Donohue, a faithful woman of faith who leads my clinical rotation at a homeless shelter called Gateways. I find that my God-given yearnings and strengths lend itself to connecting compassionately with men and women who are on on the margins of society.

- I grow in my friendships with Bethaney, Kate, and Karen as we commit to lunch weekly together. We talk about everything under the sun and I am so blessed by their friendship. 

- I make the decision to move to Los Angeles after graduation to end the 3 years of long distance that Eden and I have walked through.

- I graduate from nursing school!

- I attend my first Christian Community Health Fellowship conference after much encouragement from Renee Lick and Skip McDonald, and uncharacteristically board multiple buses to get down to Tennessee. God answers so many prayers to meet the people I wanted to meet (including Dr. Katy White and Dr. Wayne Aoki), and I consider that it would be cool to volunteer at LA Christian Health Centers when I move to Los Angeles. 

- After many unanswered applications for jobs and much discouragement, God moves on my behalf. After emailing Isaac Voss from World Impact about working at their clinic, he informs he that they weren’t hiring but he could send my resume to Sharon Soper who worked at QueensCare Health and Faith Partnership, a small parish nursing organization. Out of God’s grace and a feeling that she had in her soul, she hires me even though I am a new graduate RN and I find my first job in Los Angeles. 

- I get the pleasure of living with the Les Mis ladies for a summer and see the power of Christian love in a home with some of the most godly and loving ladies I have ever met. I am bunk mates with Steph Denzer and begin a friendship with her. 

- God is gracious to basically hand me some amazing community on a silver platter because of the relationships that Eden already has. I love this Westwood community group and am blessed by the maturity of faith, the commitment to friendship, and the pursuit of prayer in this community of believers. 

- I love many aspects of my new job but struggle for months with feelings of inadequacy as a nurse without much support nearby. I learn a lot and make some incredible friendships with nurses like Brenda Cox and community health workers like Vanessa and Karina. 

- Eden gives me the proposal of the century on our 4th anniversary of dating, with my family flying out for the event, a meal prepared by me and Eden’s mothers, our close friends the Weiner’s waiting tables for us, and our church community swarming us at the end of the night. I skype with my closest Maryland girlfriends, cry reading the letters that people have prepared for me, and watch my future husband perform a song he wrote. It is one of the best nights of my life to date. 

- I become roommates with Meghan Prince, and suite mates with Allegra and Claire. It is a wonderful arrangement and I really come to cherish those friendships. 

2013:

- The wonderful and talented Megan Prince agrees to help me plan my wedding and we spend many delirious nights together. Krissy Bengtson designs some of the most beautiful invitations and artwork for my wedding.

- After a really difficult few months of feeling like I didn’t have what my patients needed, and feeling the need to grow my foundation of nursing knowledge, my nurse manager Sharon and I mutually agree that it would be best for me to leave my job at QueensCare Health and Faith Partnership and be part of a new graduate RN program in a hospital. I leave on good terms and am grateful to have learned so much from these amazing women. 

- I spend a few months unemployed before my wedding, which is humbling but also very freeing to focus on wedding planning. I apply for new grad RN programs without any response. And in another divine act of grace, Eden meets a new friend named Paul Song who is a prominent radiation oncologist, who has a relative who works on the oncology floor of Saint John’s Health Center. He sends my resume to Helen Blohm who sends it to Janice Frost, the oncology director. She brings me in for an interview for a CNA position but graciously allows me to interview for the new graduate RN position a few days afterwards. By God’s grace, she gives me the job! Because my honeymoon is during that cohort’s orientation period, I work for 6 months as a CNA before the next RN cohort and love serving my patients in a tangible (but low-pressure) way. 

- Eden and I have the wedding we have always hoped for, with a powerful sermon about Hosea and Gomer by Dave Slagle, a surprise flash mob dance planned by Meghan and Michaela, amazing friends that all pitched in sacrificial service, and our favorite people all in one place. It becomes my new favorite day of my life.

- We move into a condo in Culver City and begin our life together. Our first year is a sweet one filled with a lot of laughing and figuring things out. 

2014:

- I travel to Taiwan for the first time with Eden’s family and meet Eden’s uncle and grandma. 

- I start working as a new grad RN on the night shift, and have an interesting life sleeping from 9am - 4pm and spending time with Eden at 8am as I eat dinner and he eats breakfast. I thankfully sleep like a rock and it’s actually quite bearable. I learn a lot from the experienced nurses on my shift, and enjoy the sarcastic humor of my coworkers. I still struggle a lot with fear and feelings of inadequacy but it get a little easier as time passes. 

- we move into our home in South LA (you can read more about that here: https://bywayofreminder.tumblr.com/post/123100658544/its-not-safe-but-it-is-good) at the end of the year. 

2015:

- We go on a cruise to the Mediterranean with some amazing new friends and get to experience some breathtaking cities. 

- We officially part ways with our Reality LA family to pursue more intentional community with people in our neighborhood. We join a church plant called Cornerstone South LA and get to know a few families that have already made Crenshaw their home for a few years now. We get to participate in the kids camp they host every year called Love LA and get to see 80+ kids from the neighborhood get involved. 

- I struggle more profoundly with feeling like a failure this year but God gently reminds me of the sufficiency that Christ gives. 

2016:

- I start the year switching to day shift and although the daytime wake-sleep rhythm is improved, it stretches me with the amount of tasks and coordination that have to take place with my patients every day. Isaiah 41:10 is my mantra these days. 

- In the May of this year, I went to another Christian Community Health Fellowship conference and had a renewed sense of calling to community health and working with the underserved. I loved my oncology job in Santa Monica and it was a wonderful place to work, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there were lines of people who would love to work in that hospital, and a much smaller pool of RN’s that would want to work in a clinic amongst the underserved. I tell my boss my thoughts and she is so gracious in her response to me. I start applying for community health jobs but nothing turns up for a few weeks. Then I get a phone call from my friend Debbie Waltman who is the director of nursing at LA Christian Health Centers, and they have an urgent need for a temporary RN to staff their Joshua House clinic in Skid Row. Though there isn’t a promise of permanent work after those 4 months, I felt an assurance that I should say yes, and quit my job at Saint John’s (with much kindness and blessing from my amazing coworkers) and began being the clinic nurse at Joshua House. (You can read more about this here) 

- We visit New Zealand with Fishermen Labs, and our marriage is tried as we drove from the bottom of the country to the top in a green Judy camper van. The country was breathtaking, the camper was not.

- I started learning calligraphy from a little handout from The Postman’s Knock. It isn’t pretty, but it’s something! 

- We start going to a church plant in the Crenshaw/Baldwin Hills area called Epiphany LA. We are refreshed by Pastor Tommy’s heart for discipleship and his passion for the hearts of people in his neighborhood, and grow to love this motley group of authentic believers seeking to lift up Jesus in the city.

2017:

- By God’s grace, I am given a permanent job as the second clinic RN at Joshua House and really enjoy my work there, with freedom to pray for patients and have heart-to-hearts with my patients as the Lord leads. 

- In September, I start in a new position of being the Charge RN for my department, a role that I didn’t feel ready for at the time but I’m glad that I agreed to. I realize that I actually love mentoring and shepherding the hearts of my nursing staff, and learn (often with growing pains) more about how to stay organized and have bigger picture vision. I am mentored by Shannon Fernando and am so encouraged by her sacrificial drive and passion for our staff and our patients. I am blessed by our weekly meetings and her prayers are powerful for the growth of my heart and mind that year. 

- Eden and I visit Yosemite and it becomes one of my new favorite places. 

- We go to Tokyo with Fishermen Labs and get to see Will and Chihiro get married! 

- We get to witness the beautiful weddings of Jackie & Charles, Sandy & Eric, and Stephany & Ricky

- Eden turns 30! 

2018:

- In February, I find out I am pregnant over FaceTime with Eden. I have an incredibly easy pregnancy until 13 weeks, when our world turns upside down with the news that our baby might not be viable and has an inexplicable sac of fluid in his or her pelvis. We are so blessed in those months with the love of our communities and the peace of our present God as we anticipate our little one’s birth. (You can read more about it here) 

- We visit Vancouver during our baby moon. 

- We get to visit Joanna and Dennis in San Francisco, and the Lord uses that friendship mightily in my life this year and the following one. 

- We get to see Shannon & Joe get hitched, as well as Jeff & Christy! 

- We meet our daughter Talitha Cumi Chen on 9/1/18. (More here)

 

- We are blessed with the love of our parents as they spend a month with us, helping my body to heal and keeping things afloat in the midst of a lot of chaos 

- I struggle immensely during the first 2 months of motherhood, unprepared for how emotionally, mentally, and physically tasking is the journey of learning to nurse and pump and just stay afloat. I often feel like Talitha is not connected to me and wonder if I’m cut out for this motherhood thing. 

2019:

- I transition to being a stay-at-home mom and working at my clinic once a week - mostly loving it but also struggling oftentimes with loneliness and a sense of meaning 

- Talitha has her 12-hour-long reconstructive surgery to correct her cloaca, and we experience such tangible otherworldly peace from God and overwhelming love from our tribe that fortified my faith in the Living God, our Refuge and Strength in times of trouble

- I see old friendships reignited as we walked through the furnace of suffering together

- I am part of a mom’s Bible study through Philippians and Romans 8 that teaches me about steadfast joy and my unshakeable identity in Christ

- We experience the blessing of health care practitioners who are excellent in their care, especially our surgical team and urologist who profoundly changed the trajectory of Talitha’s life for the better

- We learn how to catheterize Talitha’s bladder, with tears shed the first week but now it’s so easy it feels second nature

- Talitha has surgery to close her colostomy, and finally experiences life without any drains or bags attached to her 

- Talitha has her first poopy diaper ever and we take pictures of it while hootin’ and hollerin’

- We are cared for so well by my parents and in-laws who fly in for every surgery and take care of us and our home so that we can focus on helping Talitha recover

- I grow in deeper and invaluable friendship with 2 ladies from my church who are so beautifully different than me, learning how powerful it is to be known, accepted, and challenged with love. 

- I experiment with creating rhythms in my week so that my schedule can reflect what I say my priorities are

- I am able to leave Tali and LA for a week to fly and see my sister in Hong Kong to spend some sweet time together (thanks to my faithful hubby, Mama, and my dad who filled in the gaps while I was gone)

- Eden and I celebrate 6 years of marriage in San Diego

- We fly twice to Maryland and get to see Talitha meet her grandmas on both sides

- We celebrate Talitha turning 1 years old in Los Angeles with over 60 friends in our backyard

- We visit Banff and Kauai (traveling with a baby is a beast, ya’ll.) 

- I join a gym in my neighborhood called Thrive Health Labs with a recommendation from Jackie Hu and actually find myself enjoying going to 6am workout classes (focused on lifting weights, if you can believe that!) 

- We try out an Asian nanny from myasiannanny.com (and it does not work out)

- We hire my awesome friend Hya to help out with Tali and the house twice a week (and it has been life-changing)

- We almost finish our foster certification process (for the second time) but decide to withdraw from the process until we try to have another biological child first. We were advised to wait to finish certification until we are completely ready to open our home to a child in foster care right away. We are a little disappointed to put this off for a little while, but hope to reinstate our application in a couple years. 

It’s been such a faith-building exercise to recount all the deeds of the Lord. How faithful God has been through every season. The themes of His sufficiency over my insufficiency abound, and it’s something that I return to every year because my heart is so forgetful. I want to close with a hymn that I rediscovered while reading all my old blog posts that sums up this decade:

He giveth more grace when the burdens grow greater;

He sendeth more grace when the labours increase;

To added afflictions he addeth his mercy,

To multiplied trials, his multiplied peace.

When we have exhausted our store of endurance,

When our strength has failed ere the day is half done,

When we reach the end of our hoarded resources

Our Father’s full giving is only begun.

His love has no limits, his grace has no measure

His power has no boundary known unto men;

For out of his infinite riches in Jesus,

He giveth, and giveth, and giveth again.

-Annie Johnson Flint, "He Giveth More Grace,”

[luckynik]

Raise Hell

A/N: This story has the potential to be full length i think, but i would really love some feedback before i go all out… especially since 1st person POV isn't my favorite. Just keep it constructive please.

Summary: Chaos in Hell threatens to spill topside as demons and gods war for Crowley’s empty throne. The young demon!reader comes to the boys for help and protection and, with her sudden arrival, Sam and Dean learn Crowley’s last dark secret. And there is more to her than meets the glowy-red eye. 

Afterwards, to get his brother’s mind off the mysterious, hot demon girl, Sam finds them a case, and things spiral out of control—literally. Dean’s impulse control wasn’t great to start, but after a run-in with a strange woman in the woods, he starts to lose control of himself…again. Y/N and Sam try to rein him in before he loses it completely, but not before he does something he may not actually regret…

Pairing: Dean x Young Demon!Reader Characters: Dean, Reader, Sam - mentions of Crowley/Cass/Rowena

Word Count: 2700

Warnings: Set at the end of S12. Canon typical violence, age gap, young reader (but not underage), slow-ish burn, but eventually ALL the SMUT. Fighting. I’m sure there is more i should be including...

1. Heavy Metal / Dean 

Eight Days Later…

Sam’s bulky frame sailed a good ten feet and slammed, shoulder first, into the opposite crumbling brick wall. A stifled curse broke from his mouth on the air pushing out of his lungs. His next breath seemed to choke, instead of sustain life. The demon blade fell to the ground with a loud plink and skittered across asphalt. I couldn't see it. The alley was dark, orangey streetlights flickered on the Main Street. Music thumped from the bar, undulating bass and treble. An intelligible chorus drowning out the ambient grunts and groans of the sudden fight. 

My brother struggled against breathlessness as he pushed himself up the wall, fending off the snarling black-eyed biker dude as best he could without a weapon. Two other juiced up assholes advanced on me. Leather and chains from head to toe, a getup worthy of Judas Priest—Rob Halford would’ve been fucking proud.

The first guy had a wild colored Mohawk and wore a studded leather kutte with silver chains across the front and rows of unfriendly-looking spikes jutting off the shoulders. He rushed me and dropped back, as I grabbed the swinging chains and clocked him in the face with a hard left hook. I swung at the lanky asshole behind Mohawk. Strands of long, stringy blonde hair whipped as he dodged my fist and shoved me into the brick with a wave of the hand, immobilizing me. 

The second—the Glenn Tipton of the three demons—advanced to take his shot, while keeping me pinned against the wall. His clenched fist flailed, shaking as his fingers squeezed tighter. My chest began to constrict and my heart kicked into an erratic pace. I gasped, unable to breathe. The strain on my ribs I could take, but not the lack of oxygen. Then, my back met the bricks full force. For half a minute I floundered like a fish, unable to draw air into my lungs. 

“Not so tough now, eh, Winchester?” The Tipton-wannabe balled his fist a little tighter, glowy light began to seep out from between his clenched fingers. He wound up, drawing his arm back. “Can’t tell you how much I’m going to enjoy this, Dean-o.”

“Come at me, you ugly son of a bitch,” I bit out.

The demon’s jaw twitched, spittle oozing between his yellowed teeth and dripping from his lips. His glowing fist careened forward, into a wild hook, barreling toward my head.

I could take a hit. I’d take whatever this ugly asshole had and walk it off, and then come right back and gank his sorry ass. Then, I’d shove Mohawk’s head into the brick and kick the shit out of him, to give Sammy time to get the pig sticker and gank that other little bitch. I steeled myself for the impending blow...

But the hit never came.

The shaking fist stopped a millimeter away, a wisp from my stubbly jaw. He growled at me, jerking his hand, willing the limb to move, but was unable to follow through.

“I wouldn't, if I were you.” A female voice echoed through the filth.

Every one of us turned toward the sound. The Demon’s eyes yellowed and flicked to the space beside he and I.

A petite young woman stood absolutely still in the middle of the alleyway. The fabric of her gauzy white, almost knee-length dress floated around her on a gust of wind. Flawless makeup. Y/h/c hair coiled into an untamed cascade around her shoulders and back. There was something familiar about her doll-like face, but I couldn't pinpoint exactly what. Just that I recognized something about it…

Sam swung, limply, as the third demon ignored her warning. He yanked my brother up by the button strip of his flannel, preparing to body slam him into the bricks again. The young woman raised a hand and snapped her fingers, splattering bloody little chunks of the burley biker dude across Sam and the disintegrating brick wall.

Without easing his grip, yellow eyes locked on red ones.

She stood a good 15-feet away, but I could see every detail of her delicate face. The red eyes faded back to a vivid y/e/c, sparking even in the dim light of the alley. If I weren’t already out of breath, she would have stolen it then… Holding that gaze for too long would be dangerous. I forced my eyes away from her and glanced at Sam, shooting my younger brother a questioning look—you okay?

Sam returned a slight nod, shifting his focus back to the young woman, and lumbering to his feet. He hugged the wall as he slowly made his way toward me, collecting the demon knife from the ground as he went.

“You again,” snarled the greasy Judas Priest reject.

The girl said nothing, only held his gaze.

“Remember who you’re dealing with you fatherless, half-breed mut.”

She cleared her throat and released a hard breath. “Name calling already? Color me not shocked.”

The demon didn't move, or maybe he couldn't. She seemed to hold him there, pinned by her gaze. I couldn't move either. Despite his struggle with her, he somehow managed to keep me restrained against the brick wall. The girl was strong. Energy radiated off her. I could feel the surge. Pure power. Lots of it…

“This fight has nothing to do with you,” he spat.

“I beg to differ.”

“You uppity bitch. Just don't know when to stop, do ya?” He turned his head to me. “He has it comin’.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.”

He growled and the roar of a thousand demonic voices reverberated off the dingy bricks around us—some kind of possessed monkey call. Streetlights flickered. Music from the bar skipped and stalled, and then continued on. But she didn't flinch, didn't retreat, or move a muscle. Not a twitch. Not a single hair out of place. Just calm. And, the calmness was terrifying in and of itself. No fear in her at all. Why should she be afraid? Heavy Metal over here must be low on the totem pole…

“You are disobeying a direct order. The boys are off limits to low-level, yeasty, pockmarked, death-tokens such as yourself.”

“Shakespearian,” I grunted.

Sam shot me an incredulous glance, which I translated into: dude, how the hell do you even know that?

“What?” I mouthed back. “I read.”

“Let him go.”

The demon gurgled, struggling to resist her hold. He garbled a “No.”

“Let. Him. Go.”

The light emanating from his clenched fist faded fast and his hand trembled violently. Black smoke began to seep from his body in soft waving tendrils. He wailed and roared, but she didn't stop.

A gentle tilt her head appeared to force more infernal smoke from the occupied body. The Tipton-wannabe fought against the pull, until a puff of black burst right through the middle of his chest.

“Demon control?” whispered Sam.

I lurched away from the wall as his hold finally released. Sam sidled up to me, an arm closing around my torso, keeping me on my feet for the moment. We both dropped back, to prepare for whatever came next.

“He can’t protect you anymore! You little bitch, this isn’t over.”

“I’m afraid it is.”

“I’ll be coming for you,” the demon snarled. “You can’t run and you can’t hide. The Winchester’s can’t save you—I will find you and flay the skin from your bones.”

“I’m sure you’ll try, Belial.” The corner of her pouty mouth lifted into a humorless smile, glints of red in her eyes. “But today is not that day.”

A rush of black smoke poured from him, melting into a puddle on the ground. It reminded me of the way Sam could rip demons out of people with his psychic hoodoo. The ground beneath us shook and flared orange, like roasting coals in a fire pit, and then quickly died out.

Mohawk took a step back and smoked out of his meatsuit, while he still had the chance. The dead body dropped to the ground with a hard, unceremonious thud.

As the foul smoke cleared, three bodies lay on the ground. Sam and I and the girl stood in the alley, in a kind of standoff, unsure what to make of each other. She had taken on three demons with fear, a snap of her fingers, and a tilt of her fucking head…to save us from this yellow-eyed douche? Why?

“Who are you?” “What do you want?” Sam and I spoke in unison.

“Crowley?”

Neither of us said another word. Tightness returned to my chest, a heaviness that I couldn't quite explain had formed. She deserved to know—needed to know. I wasn't sure why, but I knew she did. And why did I have to be the one tell her about Crowley’s sacrifice in the alt-world to close the portal? Would she even believe that it happened that way?  As many times as I’d wished the King of Hell death, the way it had finally come was not as expected. It didn't feel how I thought it would either.

Her steely gaze landed on me, I felt it shift from me to my brother and back. Sam and I glanced at each other, and both of us turned our eyes toward the ground, avoiding answering her.

Sam usually took the lead in situations like this. Sam knew what to say and how to be compassionate with victims and the victim’s loved ones—even when they were monsters. But this time he didn't. Of all the times to keep his fucking trap shut… then he shot her the most pathetic puppy-dog eyes he could muster. I grumbled and shifted uncomfortably, gnawing at my bottom lip. Finally, bringing my gaze back to hers, I prepared to deliver some ‘sacrificed himself for the greater good, oh and bonus points for trapping Lucifer in another hellish dimension’ anti-hero-esque speech that I wasn't sure he deserved. Then, my eyes landed on her plush, glossy bottom lip…and it trembled, hard.

Words failed me. My mouth opened and closed more than once.

That was the only slip in her artfully arranged façade, and it was so fucking powerful that I couldn't tell her. The immediate urge to comfort the young woman welled up inside me, catching me off guard. After an extended moment of silence I realized that I didn't need to say a word. Because she knew…

Foreign emotions assaulted me, prickling across my skin and raising all the little hairs on my arms and neck. I felt a jumble of heat energy radiate off her. Each emotion swept over me, like a wave curling and breaking against the surf. It didn't seem to have the same effect on Sam and I wondered why? Demons had no empathy, no real emotion—what the hell was this? While she struggled to keep her composure, I resisted rushing toward her and pulling her into my arms. What the fuck? God. I resisted hard, willing my feet not to move. Not the first time I had felt this kind of unnatural urge with a chick. I knew it was something that should not be indulged, no matter how bad I wanted to go to her.

She must have known what I wanted to do, that certainly would’ve explained the awed look on her face as our eyes met.

“I’m sorry.” My brain ticked through other things to say, but nothing seemed appropriate or important.

“You always are,” she countered.

I couldn't bear to look at her anymore and cast my eyes away, tracing the cracks in the broken asphalt beneath my boots. It was our fault—my fault. Again. We couldn't stop it. We couldn't stop the Nephilim from being born. We couldn't kill it. Shit, we didn't even know what we were going to do with it now that he’d been born. We had nothing to fight Lucifer. We couldn't kill him. We couldn't find another way to close the portal before Crowley offed himself. Hell, we couldn't even save our own mother, after walking through hellfire to get her back from those English douchebags. Couldn't save Cass. We lost. Every loss is on us…again.

“No, Dean.” When I looked up she was standing in front of me, inches away. Every cell in my body felt her presence. Pure power. That explains why Crowley made her business his. My hands itched to touch her, hold her. “It’s not. It’s not your fault at all.”

Staring into those hypnotic y/e/c irises was a mistake, and I knew it as it was happening. The pull to her was overwhelming, like an invisible hand clenching the middle of my chest and drawing me toward her. I had felt all of this before… I didn't know who she was, or why she was important, but the instinct to protect her welled in the pit of my stomach and sat there like a boulder.

Who am I kidding? I can’t protect her. Everyone who dares to get close to me dies. No one with a brain would choose me as a protector, with such an obvious outcome? Why risk it? I’m not worth that risk. I would do my best for her, but in the end it wouldn't be enough, because it never was. I ruin everything I touch…

“Don’t do that,” she whispered. “I need you.”

Before I knew it, both my hands came up, fingers skimming up the length of her slim arms. Her eyes widened at the skin-to-skin contact, alarmed and almost fearful. Touching her was like touching a live wire, static electricity. She sucked in a quick, stilted breath and blinked away. Disappearing into nothing. My hands hung in the empty air, as if she had never been there. The loss of her presence affected me immediately, and physically; the boulder turned to a heavy ache, throbbing low in my gut. Emptiness. Emptiness that I was more than familiar with…it was deep, bone-deep, but also a strange comfort.

“What the hell?”

“I don't know,” replied Sam.

He’d been watching the exchange, silently, but I was sure my brother had already formed some kind of opinion. I glanced at him. “Since when are we off limits?”

“Since when is Belial a low-level demon?”

“What?”

“She called him Belial,” Sam explained. “If I remember correctly, Belial rose up with Lucifer during the rebellion. He was the first angel to actually fall in the fight against Michael and the other Heavenly angels. He’s—”

“Why do you even know that?”

Sam gave half a shrug. “He was in the lore. I read about him when I read up on Dagon. He’s the literal opposite of low-level. He is a Prince of Hell, Dean.”

“Prince of hair metal,” I grumbled under my breath.

“Dude. That demon just saved our ass’s…”

“Who is this chick and what’s her deal with Crowley? And why haven’t we seen her before, or at least heard about her? He was the king of running his fucking mouth—how could he not slip about his hot little sidechick? He would have bragged about having that kind of power at his disposal.” The urge to protect her stayed with me. Crowley and I had more in common that I cared to admit, and I began to wonder if he had felt the same way in her presence. Maybe we didn't know about her because that assclown was protecting her? God. Does she need protection? Why and from who? Obviously from this Belial douche… but now that Crowley is gone who will do the job? On the other hand— “Did you see what she did? She pulled that demon—a Prince of Hell—with a tilt of her goddamn head, Sam. With your psychic hoodoo, all hopped up on demon blood, on your best day, you couldn't swing that. That was,” I bit back ‘awesome’ and ignored the incredulous look my brother shot at me. Instead shaking my head, as if that would somehow communicate the rest of my thoughts to him.

“Dude, you okay?”

...