#( granted most of you are from my star rail blogs )

[dangerousduckcloud]

Flowerbeds make up for a nice eternal rest

Read it also on AO3

Maybe you’d waited for too long, maybe the book you chose had bored you until you fell asleep. Whatever it was, you didn’t know you were in danger until the last second, a knife pressing against your throat and a croaky voice that wouldn’t normally belong to a kid reached your ears.

Chapter 7 < > Chapter 9

taglist: @kurai-hono-blog, @katrina0-0

Gotham wasn’t known for its beautiful weather; the blue, clear skies the granted wish given to a shooting star. Rather, her citizens were creatures of water and fumes, so accustomed to the rain soaking up their clothes and fog clogging their lungs.

It was only fitting the sporadic sunny days had ended that moment, the light drizzling had turned into a downpour, caging you in the gazebo, the vines coiled around the posts and the roof frame welcoming the rain.

Sitting down on one of the patio chairs, with your legs leaning against the railing, you watched the water fall, your breathing in sync with the droplets falling from the ceiling onto the tip of your shoe.

One hour had turned into two, the rain long gone but the clouds still as ominous as ever. You debated between heading back inside the manor, your thin shirt ill-suited for the cold that the rain had left. However, you couldn’t do it.

And how could you? What had you given them besides problems and pain? Making it known their lives were not real, their whole existence did not hold a single drop of significance, with people having no issue with killing them, even if they were just children.

A hand spurred you out of your thoughts, hoping to see two gems looking back at you, however, even though you held a special place for her in your heart, you couldn’t mask the disappointment in your face at seeing Cass standing next to you, a first aid kit on her hands.

“May I?” She gestured to your bandaged wrists. With your reply a simple nod, she sat down next to you, leaving the box on a wooden table, and taking out whatever she needed to clean you, internally hissing at seeing the bottle of alcohol. You had never been able to handle pain. Even less to the degree they all had become accustomed to due to their night life.

Your reddened skin was exposed to the world, the cuts healing well, a part of you hoping for Cass to decide they were good enough to not need cleaning, nonetheless your hopes didn’t last long, as the cotton balls and alcohol was the first thing she grabbed.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” She asked right before pressing the cotton to your right arm, a groan coming out of you.

“’Bout everything my world did to yours. Dick’s parents, Bruce’s parents, Tim’s negligence, your abuse… Jason’s death.”

Cass was silent for a second, calmy changing your bandages, not a single emotion on her face. There was rarely one if she didn’t want it to be seen.

“You wrote the stories?”

“No.”

“Is our world shaped by yours?”

“… I don’t know”

“Why are you apologizing, then?” You opened your mouth to explain once more why— but it came out empty. “Even if we only exist because of you, you did not choose to hurt us. You chose to love us. Despite our flaws and… Traumas, yes, our traumas.”

“But you suffered so much—”

“By people who have no relation to you. Yes, we have suffered, but… I like my life; I have a family who loves me. Despite my up… Upbringing. I cannot imagine living without them.”

It was the most you’d heard her talk in once sentence. Silence befell the two of you while she finished changing your bandages, asking if she could also look at the cuts you’d gotten on your back when you were dragged across the floor.

By the lack of use of alcohol, you assumed nothing major had happened, feeling the fabric fall down your skin once again.

Did it matter if you knew if it was your fault or not, when the person you cared about thought it was?

-

With having been on the manor for only a week, the safest choice for you was to stick to the areas you knew how to get back to your room, being mainly the kitchen, the drawing room, and the library, the latter being the place to find you at the moment, looking for a new book to chase away your boredom.

As well as hoping to run into Jason.

---

Maybe you’d waited for too long, maybe the book you chose had bored you until you fell asleep. Whatever it was, you didn’t know you were in danger until the last second, a knife pressing against your throat and a croaky voice that wouldn’t normally belong to a kid reached your ears.

“You have ten seconds to tell me what you are doing in my home before I end you.”

“I’m from another universe.” You blurted out, chiding yourself for saying the least favorable response to your case.

“Tt.”

This was it. You survived an encounter with the Scarecrow only to die at the hands of a ten-year-old.

“Damian!” The hand faltered, the tip of the knife grazing your skin. “Leave her alone.”

“I have never seen her, Grayson.” From how distant the voice sounded a second ago, he must’ve turned his head to face Dick. “She could be a danger.”

“You’d never seen her because you were in San Francisco.” Dick calmly explained, taking the very sharp knife from his hand as if it was a daily recurrence, not a single show of worry on his body. “She just got here couple days ago.”

With no blade to threaten you, Damian walked around the couch, standing next to you, a scowl on his face that seemed more than a natural expression than one directed at you.

“Nice to meet you, Damian.” Your hand thoughtlessly moved upwards your neck, a drop of blood staining your finger, but he heeded no attention to you.

“I see. And may I enquire what is she still doing here? Why has father allowed her to stay? What is this about ‘another universe’?”

“Ah, shit… I knew I forgot something…” Dick rubbed his neck, sitting down on the settee in front of you, eyes glued to the floor.

Damian finished rounding the couch, standing in front of Dick, his stance was rigid, and his face devoid of any emotion, but the subtle way he was rubbing his thumb and pointer fingered showed he was nervous.

“What is it, Grayson?”

“Dad’s missing, Damian.” The rubbing stopped. “We believe he was sent to Jane’s world.”

Damian stood still for several seconds, so rigid he could be mistaken for a gargoyle.

“And what have you been doing to rescue him?”

“We’re working on it. Tim already—”

“Tt.” Damian interrupted him, crossing his arms. “You have that fool working on it? No wonder you have not made any advancements.”

“Actually…” You finally spoke, drawing the attention of both. “He’d already created a portal to my world, only… Well, I touched it and it closed. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s me.”

Damian huffed, but the frown turned into a raised eyebrow, face turning once again to Dick. At least he wasn’t completely ignoring you.

“Is it safe to assume she…?”

“Yes, she knows about our identities.” Dick’s tone was the one of an older brother forced to watch over his siblings; tired and in need of a long nap.

“Hm… You better watch who you talk to. I will end you if you do anything to harm my family. That includes revealing our identities.”

With a fond exhale, you looked him straight in the eyes.

“Yeah, I know, you’ll kill me and make me suffer, yada yada. Why don’t you go out and play with Goliath or something?”

“How do you—?” He stuttered, for once his stoic nature crumbled for a second. You laid back, arms resting on the back of the couch and a smirk on your face. Oh, you so enjoyed looking like a badass, enigmatic villain right now.

Even if you were only doing so to bother the kid.

“I know some stuff, child.”

“Who’s Goliath?” Dick asked.

“No one.” He hastily replied. And so, Damian left, not before sending a heated glare to you, your fingers splayed open in a childish wave as he walked away.

---

You weren’t the world’s greatest detective, but it still didn’t take long for you to realize Damian was watching you closely. The first days you hadn’t noticed, but the unexplainable feeling you got ever since he came home made sense once you caught him hidden on the top of the bookshelves through the reflection on a mirror.

And of course, with him being the son and younger brother of the world’s greatest detectives, he was bound to be spectacular as well, knowing you’d caught him just seconds after you did it.

“How did you know?” He asked, jumping down from the bookshelf, landing neatly without making a sound.

“Bout what?” You asked, comfortably laying down on the window nook, a new book in hand, and Alfred’s signature Earl Gray tea in the other.

“About Goliath.” He calmy walked towards you, but you had the feeling he could pull out another knife anytime, the Batman-themed band aid on your neck proof of that.

“I told you. I’m from another universe. Hasn’t Dick explained it to you?”

“He did.” His gaze lowered to the book you were reading, one of Jason’s favorites which wasn’t Pride & Prejudice. No, he didn’t know you knew that about him. “But it still does not explain how you know something not even father knows.”

“I just come from a world where… Well…” You bit your lip, you had no idea how Damian would take this information, and what his reaction would be. “You are, well, comic book characters, you know? Just stories and all.” Should you be worried or glad he didn’t seem to react to that? “And there’s this one story of you sparing Goliath when he was a pup. Everyone knows how much you care about animals.”

“I do not—”

“Save it, kid. I know it, and it’s nothing you should feel compelled to lie about, it’s a truly noble cause to care so much for beings that sometimes can’t defend themselves against the cruelty that is humanity.”

A subtle pinkish hue tinted his cheeks, the smallest of smiles on his face, but his gaze unfocused at the same time his smile disappeared, lost in his own memories.

“Yes, people can be cruel sometimes.” He took a deep breath, turning his gaze towards the ceiling for a second before it landed back again on you. “Your world… We do not exist in it?”

“I don’t know.” You admitted. “That’s something I’m trying to figure out, but I’m not as smart as your siblings, I don’t know how this all works. I got a few theories, but I’ve no way to test them.”

“It is safe to assume you read quite a lot about us.” He spoke calmly, more a statement than a question, surprising you how better he was taking this than the rest of his family. “I have noticed specially, how… Interested you are in someone. I know the books you have been choosing” He gestured with his hand to the one currently resting on your raised legs, The Taming of the Shrew, your finger saving the page you were on. “, are those Todd enjoys the most, however you do not display signs of enjoying them, most of the times staying on the same page for longer than you should. Unless this is the result of an affliction? Dyslexia, perhaps? I am sure Grayson would be glad to help and find a professional.”

“I am— No, I’m not dyslexic.” You did not like where this was going, ashamed the rest of the family would discover your slight crush on Jason. Were you that easy to read? Did they already know?

“Hm. I know you choose to spend your time here when Cain or Drake do not drag you someplace else.”

“Why are you telling me this, Damian?” You blurted, it seemed he had inherited his father’s annoying habit of not speaking clearly whatever was on their minds.

“If you are infatuated with Todd, I will let you know he left the manor the day after I arrived. If you are hoping to run into him here, you are wasting your time.”

Huh, that explained why you hadn’t seen him at any meal.

“Why are you telling me this?” You asked again.

“I will not tell if you do not say anything else about my life to my family.”

“Are you— Are you blackmailing me?” Your scoff brought a smirk on the kid’s face, a huff leaving your body. “You little shit… Fine, I won’t tell anything about you. Not sure what else you could want to hide, anyway…”

“I shall be monitoring you closely, still.” He was just about to leave the library when he turned, sheepish and rubbing his thumb and pointer finger again. “What is your name?”

“You can call me Jane.”

[aliorsboxostuff]

MALE!READER WRITING REQUESTS OPEN!

Come check out my works bellow!

I've seen how devastatingly little male!reader fics are in my big fandoms, and as a gay man i feel like i should provide us with said fics! Which is why I'm opening my ask box for any and all male!readers and gn!readers requests! (Including anon requests!)

RULES:

I WON'T ACCEPT FEMALE!READER FICS REQUESTS. I’m a trans-masc genderfluid, so male!Readers or gn!Readers are the ones that I usually write and am comfortable with. It’s hard looking for male!reader fics, especially in female-dominated fandoms, that's why I'm opening requests for any and all sad and touch-starved dudes out there! If these don't fit your preferences then you are free to leave, and if you're a female user/reader entering my blog, I hope you remain respectful about the fics I write or get requests for, thank you.

NOTE: I NEVER USE ANY FORM OF Y/N IN MY FICS. Please be aware that i write based on my current fixations. Fixations may vary in how much i want to write them so i’ll be ranking from the MOST interested to the LEAST interested but will write. Please be patient in waiting for your fics as i, sadly, have IRL work to worry about too! 

What i will write:

male!reader

gender-neutral reader

Ftm! Reader

Smut 

Platonic or Romantic relationships

Kid!reader (ONLY platonic-parental relationships)

angst

fluff

comfort

headcanons

nsfw alphabets

drabbles

Series

Age gap (CHARACTERS MUST BE OVER THE AGE OF 19)

What I Won't write:

female!reader

underage characters (anyone under 17)

necrophilia

real people

pedophilia

Omorashi

age play

rape/non-con

incest

offensive/harmful things

THE CHARACTER LIST!

Current immediate fixation:

HOUSE MD (Up to s2)

Gregory House 

James Wilson

Robert Chase

Lisa Cuddy

PEDRO PASCAL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

Ezra (prospect)

Joel Miller

Javi Gutierrez

Javier Peña

Frankie Morales

Whiskey (Kingsman)

MORTAL KOMBAT 1

Johnny Cage

Kenshi Takahashi

Tomas Vrbada

Syzoth

HONKAI STAR RAIL

Boothill

Welt

Sampo

Gallagher

Dr. Ratio

JUJUTSU KAISEN

Satoru Gojo

Nanami Kento

Higuruma Hiromi

Ryoumen Sukuna

Yuuji Itadori (Fluff)

Toge Inumaki (Fluff)

Less interested (but will write) Fixations:

TOP GUN 86’ & TOP GUN: MAVERICK

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

COD MODERN WARFARE II

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

John 'Soap' Mactavish

König

DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN

Connor (RK800)

Nines (RK900)

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Chris Knight (Real Genius)

Hannibal (NBC)

The Corinthian (Netflix Sandman)

Leon S. Kennedy (RE4 Remake)

Luis Serra (RE4 Remake)

Understand that these are all works of fiction; I am perfectly fine with writing for topics including mafias, mobs, murder, organized crime, war, mental illness, abuse, etc.; but please do not romanticize them in any way. Reading it is fine; please don't romanticize them in your head.

If any of this provided information may seem confusing or have any questions, feel free to drop a DM and I will explain further! I will try to post fic requests as regularly and as fast as I can!

For refrence, these are fics i've written and uploaded to my AO3!

Steven Grant/Male Reader fluff

XMEN Family Pride Fic

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #1

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #2

Deadpool/Male Reader Fluff Confession

Deadpool/Ftm Reader Smut

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader Fluff

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader sunshine x grumpy

Tangerine/Male Reader Fluff/Angst Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader (Escort Fic) Mature

Tangerine/NB Reader Teen&Up

Tangerine/Gender-Fluid Reader (Coming out fic)

Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Husband Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Ellie Fluff

Joel Miller & Kid Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Tess Fluff a bit Angst

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Fluff slight Angst

Din Djarin/Boyfriend Reader Smut

And the Short Fics/Drabbles on Tumblr!

Pulse (Tangerine/M!reader)

Deep Dive (Namor/M!reader)

Hold Tight (Tangerine/gn Reader)

Ner Mesh'la (Din Djarin/Male Reader)

Trinkets (Kurt Wagner/Gender-fluid Reader)

"Anythin' you wanna be." (Hobie Brown & Ftm Reader)

Little Nap! (Meows Morales Drabble)

Anyone that starts an argument about me writing exclusively for men and gender neutrals alike will get a very passive-aggressive and sarcastic reply to your request. There is an abundance of female!readers fics and writers who provide them; I am just here for people that takes a whole day searching for good male!reader fics. IF you do start an unnecessary rant about my fics or my writing preferences at a given moment; I’ve been in fandom spaces for the last 7 years of my life and run on pure manic adrenaline, I will throw hands. 

Without further ado, REBLOG TO TELL ALL DUDES! I OPEN MY FLOOD GATES! WELCOME ALL MALE!READER REQUESTS!

[inspired-by-the-music]

y’all know I can’t control myself when shinee loving anon encourages me to do literary analysis! here are nearly 2,000 words of me analyzing my own writing like a weirdo :p because this is not the first time I have done literary alaysis of my own work, and it certainly won’t be the last (I’m already working on a thesis statement that could connect themes from the SHINee universe to at least 2/3 main plots of For You), I’ve decided to make a little banner for these essays lol. 

First, some disclaimers: For You is an ongoing work. It might be an ongoing work for the rest of forever because Lei provides a perfect character through which I can explore S.M. In case you haven’t gathered from scrolling through my blog for a few seconds — I am a huge S.M. fan. With that being said, the main plot of 4 O’Clock is completed. This informal essay will discuss similarities between 4 O’Clock and works in the SHINee Universe.

I think I should begin by expressing my deep attachment to Taemin that is reflected in my writing. He is the first SHINee member that I wrote about; that drabble resulted in my friendship with SHINee Loving Anon and inspired my confidence to write about all five SHINee members. “Beautiful Parts” should be read as what it is: my reunion with my favorite group. Writing that story was therapeutic; it ranks with “Between Souls - Jonghyun,” “Lights - Taeyeon,” and “Orenda - Onew.” All of these works were written with my emotional needs in mind. They are deeply personal, and that’s why I love them. I created them with the intent of bringing myself comfort, and I shared them with the hope of extending that comfort to others. 

“Beautiful Parts” also represents the shift toward Taemin becoming one of my ultimate idols and creative inspirations. When I could not yet write about Jonghyun, I could write about Taemin; when I could not yet listen to Jonghyun or SHINee without hurting, I could listen to Taemin. The image that I created of Taemin comforting someone — an unnamed reader — in “Beautiful Parts” remains with me. I can’t unsee it. It is obviously not a moment that I have lived through, but it feels real to me.

That image is integral to the relationship between Taemin and Lei. Comfort —  the fact that Taemin sat beside her when she cried — is a key component of Lei’s love for him. 

One could and should find similarities between the unnamed character of “Beautiful Parts” and Lei. Granted, “Beautiful Parts” is a part of the SHINee Universe. The character is Minho’s sister; although much of her character is intentionally vague, she is a separate character from Lei. She could and should, however, be read as a precursor to Lei. Both characters seek the company of the moon when they are troubled and cannot sleep. They share a desire — a compulsion, even — to reach for the moon and stars that they know they can never reach. 

“What’s so comforting about the moon and the single star in the sky? How can they be so far, lightyears away, yet feel so close? Why did they convince you to lean against the railing, reaching for them like a child with no understanding of the distance? You couldn’t say, even though you wondered almost every night.” “Beautiful Parts”

“The stars were on full display, and the moon was a sterling crescent so bright that I thought, were my wrists not bound, I could have reached out and grabbed it out of the sky and put it in my pocket.

That was a silly thought I dreamt about often: holding the moon, carrying it around with me in the daylight as if I could protect it better than the sky. I don't know who planted that dream in my mind or why, but I was always grateful for it" (4 O'Clock, Chapter 2). 

If you read 4 O'Clock, you cannot mistake the significance of the moon; Lei will not let you. In third-person or second-person narratives— like "Beautiful Parts"— I think that it would cheapen the story to overtly impress upon the reader the significance of a symbol. Put simply: if the second- or third-person narrator has to explain, "this is significant because," then the writer has failed in their application or execution of a symbol. However, as Lei is a first-person narrator relating her story to her mother, she is permitted to express plainly, "this is important— this is important, and this is why." She does exactly that by referring to the moon, in later chapters, as "our moon," meaning that she has claimed this symbol as hers and Taemin's. 

This claim of ownership becomes especially significant as Lei struggles to confine her love for Taemin to times when it is safe to express— at night in their hotel room or, in post-tour chapters, in her room. This distinction is also expressed in "Beautiful parts" compared to its counterpart "Morning Confessions." I used "Morning Confession" as a guide in writing the morning scenes of 4 O'Clock Chapter 9, Chapter 12, Chapter 14, and part 6 of the Epilogue. In all of these scenes referenced, there is a clear shift between the night— when a character receives comfort— and the morning— when that comfort is reciprocated, usually through some form of affection. 

The exception is the scene from Chapter 9. This part of the story occurs before the New Year's kiss that dispels much of Lei's discomfort about being in a relationship. Within this scene, Lei is torn between the desire to share her first kiss with Taemin and the desire to escape his embrace and start her day. Notice, then, that Lei is imposing this binary of day and night. (Granted, Lei believes that this binary is imposed upon her by external forces. I am inclined to agree that she is limited in self-expression by the pressures of standing in the public eye. Using my author knowledge of her life, I would also argue that her fears and reservations are rooted in real-life experiences; those are always the hardest fears to shake.)

Another interesting observation is that this scene from Chapter 9 is sandwiched between Lei's comforting Taemin post-Jaemin-induced-tantrum and the tense bathroom scene where Lei object to the terms "mine" and "yours" when referring to another person. 

"That's something I've always struggled to accept: the idea of calling somebody— a whole individual— mine. I know some people are infatuated with the idea of ownership, but that kind of dynamic has always made my skin crawl." 

"It's just, those words— mine and yours—" I cringed, and Taemin dropped my hands. "I don't know. I think it's fine to call you my soulmate or my boyfriend, if that's what you are, but the thought of calling you— all of you— mine just seems wrong'" (4 O'Clock, Chapter 9). 

Note: Lei does not yet accept that Taemin is her soulmate. These quotes are indicative of Lei's character as they express her deepest fears. Consider that 4 O'Clock— while it is about Lei's love for Taemin, and it is about Donghae's unrequited (totally requited) love for Manager Kim— is ultimately about Lei's liberation from fear. Certainly, Taemin places a role in that liberation; Lei states far too many times to reference that he was an inspiration to her before she knew him as anything more than an idol. However, one would be remiss in failing to recognize the relationship through which Lei discovers herself: her relationship with her mother. 

(If you need proof of this claim, and I seriously doubt you do, here is a quote from Chapter 10: 

"I had been considering what it meant to be the fulfillment of her dreams, and it meant that I couldn’t be afraid. It meant I didn’t have to be. There was liberation in the fact that I could be confident in the truth that no matter what anybody in that hotel room, in the country, in the whole world even (!) said or thought or did, I now knew who I was. I knew who Mom was. I knew that no matter what— come what may— we would love each other forever. 

All along, I had the forever love I couldn’t admit to wanting. . .") 

The whole "'mine' and 'yours' makes me cringe" scene occurs right before Lei admits to her mother that she knows who she is: the idol who never debuted. Throughout most of the story, Lei refers to her mother as "Mom," capital-M, as if "Mom" is her birth name. There are scattered incidents where Lei writes "my mom," but she usually does so to distinguish her relationship with Mom and the one Lucas claims by using the name. 

"Were I not used to that— Lucas referring to my mother as if she were also his, calling her hot— I might have cringed" (4 O'Clock, Chapter 1). 

This use of the phrase "my mother" should be viewed in contrast to Lei's use of the phrase "my mom" in chapter 9. 

"No. No, I knew my mom. I knew her long before I saw her as the idol who never debuted. She had eyes that found possibilities where others saw none. There was no way that she hadn't considered how the last 21 years of her life had been affected by my existence" (4 O’Clock, Chapter 9). 

By using the word "my," Lei does not take ownership of the relationship— or of her mother as a whole individual— in a way that should make anybody's skin crawl. Rather, she uses that word to distinguish her Mom from the idol who never debuted. "My" is a protective word— a word through which Lei can shield her mother from judgment. Distinction of identities matters deeply to Lei because she feels that she is inadequate in her roles as an idol and as a human being. 

She writes when reflecting on Kai's request to be called Jongin that she has always been hyper-sensitive to the difference between calling an artist by their stage name and their birth name. Considering whether she should have used a stage name herself, Lei wonders: 

"Would that have made it easier to distinguish me (the person) from me (the idol)?" (4 O’Clock, Chapter 2). 

It is crucial to understand these distinctions of identities and their significance to Lei if you are to feel the weight of a post-New Year's- Kiss moment:

"That time, when Taemin whispered, “My Lei,” against my skin, I didn’t cringe at the thought that I— all of me, every thought locked away in my mind, every fear hidden in the darkest corners of my heart— belonged to him. 

Maybe that’s not the best way to phrase it. Maybe I mean to say that I didn’t cringe at the thought that all of me, even the parts that I considered fruitless or dangerous or flawed, belonged with Taemin. I don’t know" (4 O’Clock, Chapter 14)."

There's our Lei, still caught up in things like proper wording! Also significant is Lei's limited use of the phrase "my Taemin." She thinks it for the first time shortly before the scene quoted above; she doesn't say it aloud until the next day. We could take this, I suppose, as another example of the binary of day and night that culminates in Lei's decision to "live in the light," expressed in the closing chapters. 

[stovmborn-arc]

𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐗  ––  𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄.

**  this blog will not be following any of the events post episode five, unless plotted otherwise. for the general arch of daenerys in my portrayal however, her ‘end’ was incredibly different. this does not mean to say that i am opposed to exploring narratives where jon attempts to murder her, or where she does turn mad but i will not be explicitly portraying that theme throughout my writing in general plots and threads. this is my canon divergence, the original post which is mostly a rant written after watching the final season can be found HERE but for the sake of my new blog, i thought i would type it properly  !!!  this is likely to be an incredibly long post as i have it in my head that daenerys deserved far better so thank you for sticking through and reading this. its hugely important to me. **  in my head, i truly believe that daenerys was not mad. george r. r martin did not write her to be mad and her storyline will hopefully take another route after the butchering of her narrative in the final season.. she was simply doing what she thought was right and best for the people of westeros in a way where she got her justice and unfortunately, she did lose her way and became wrapped up in what she believed her ideal world to be. we completely saw in her final scene with kit beside the throne that she was still very much human and not insane. she was genuinely a human being, asking him to create a better world with her and … my girl. i would also like to put it out there that i am happy with the ending ( for a handful of the other characters and the justice they received ). i know there were a few loose ends that could have been tied with more time and less rush to crack on with star wars, cough cough d&d. but i think everybody is where they are meant to be. solely talking about jon’s ending but i won’t clog this post  !!! give that like button a  ♡  if you do read this  ––  just so i know for future plotting  !!!

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

◈     with still writing her, it is clear that in my portrayal that daenerys doesn’t die. whilst daenerys presented jon with a difficult choice to make, she asks him to build the new world with her in a throne room that is still intact and not burned to ashes. this would happen in the scene which he comes to her, only the turn in events does not follow the route of the show. how this does unfold however is dependent on my writing partner ( if writing with somebody who portrays jon ). 

◈     tyrion urges that she invites the great lords and ladies of westeros to the dragon pit so that they do not feel uncomfortable or on edge with seeing her on the iron throne  –––   a woman that they have only ever heard stories of. the idea of bringing them to a place where her dragons were once held as prisoners is a metaphor for the freedom that she wants to instil upon the seven kingdoms. now that the war has been won, they discuss the nights watch and other worldly issues, including northern independence because as somebody who has had everything taken from her, she recognises the loss that the stark family have also faced.

◈     the main reason that she grants the north their independence is because she knows how much eddard stark meant to jon and how the north has been a staple of his childhood and his narrative and she also respects that. she respects everything that he has lost much like her and i think it is important to note that daenerys respects and understands where sansa is coming from. she wanted to take her rightful throne and in the process of obtaining her families kingdom, she wants to give the stark’s what is rightfully theirs too. i would also like to imagine that somebody has brought it to her attention that this man whom she did not know fought for her life against his king and best friend in the earlier storyline when robert orders for her to be killed. 

◈     in episode four, she urges jon not to tell his siblings about his parentage. whilst portraying daenerys and jon romantically, i feel most comfortable writing in a context where jon is not the son of rhaegar. if threads do follow the rhaegar and lyanna storyline, whether a romantic relationship is involved or not, daenerys would still be incredibly concerned about jon telling people of his heritage. not because she believes he would ever dethrone her but more so, because she cares about him and knows that kingship is not something he has ever sought after. there is something within her that worries for the throne too, which is completely okay. daenerys is allowed to have that burning dream in the back of her mind as it is all that she has ever known. 

◈     “ because of everything she has been through, because of everything they have done to her. ”  this is something that she says to jon, in relation to sansa. in my portrayal, daenerys does not feel threatened or anger towards sansa. instead, she actually feels disheartened and she understands it in a strange and peculiar way. she acknowledges that sansa has concerns for a reason, she absolutely understands that sansa has a vision ( similar to her own ) where she wants the best for her people. in my mind, i see a friendship and alliance forming betwen the pair  –––  particularly on daenerys’ behalf as she has not come to westeros to form enemies. theyshare hardships and more importantly, have both blossomed into two powerful women who deserved better. i think they would be perfect together, as the southern and northern rulers. 

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐋

◈     daenerys’ small council will have been heavily planned with tyrion by her side. in my canon, jorah, rhaegal and missandei are still alive. however, dependent on the threat and plot  –––  if it aids the other person that i am writing with, i am not opposed to exploring the themes and troubles that their deaths may bring daenerys. sharna likes to live a world of angst, hurt and upset so bring me these heartbreaking, gut wrenching plots  !!!  please.

◈     as the queen of the six kingdoms, daenerys would absolutely appoint master of war to jon snow. in her eyes, there is not a single person more deserving of the role given every battle he has faced. she would not expect him to take it because canonically, targaryen or not, she knows that he has and will always be a stark inside. if it pleased him to travel back to the north and live his days back in winterfell with his family, then she would accept this, even if it did hurt her. an alliance between the southern and northern regions of westeros would be incredibly important to her, whether it is jon or sansa ruling as the king / queen in the north. failing this, greyworm would be appointed as the master of war with being the leader of her armies. 

◈     bronn would remain her master of coin at tyrion’s suggestion, though at first daenerys would be sceptical due to him being part of the sack on highgarden. she does not feel comfortable with the idea that bronn was a part of the sack, murdering her allies and then claiming the castle for himself. but in this  ‘ new world ’  she is trying to build of forgiveness and second chances, it only seems right that bronn is given the opportunity to prove himself worthy. in any verses with margaery writers where she is still alive, margaery tyrell is very much the heir to highgarden.

◈     lord commander of the queens guard would be jorah mormont. although daenerys has faced betrayal from him, she has forgiven him. there is not a single person in both westeros and essos that daenerys would trust with her life above jorah. not only that, but he has been by her side for the longest and it would give her no greater honour than presenting him with such a title after he has heavily protected her from the moment they met in pentos. daenerys’ knowledge of westeros and essos is not simply made up of what she has learned from characters like viserys and magister illyrio but a majority of it has come from jorah mormont, who has been by her side apart from the small timeframe in which he was exiled by her. 

◈     davos seaworth will be granted the title of master of ships. i would like to think that daenerys had formed a bond with him, due to him being the one to bring jon to dragonstone. she admired his humour for what it was and more than anything, she admired his bravery as she knew that he had never fought in many fights. i would like to think that they shared memories of dragonstone and seeing as she does not know the castle very well, he would have offered her insight and knowledge of her ancestral home … telling her stories that shireen had taught him about the night she was born and her families history here. master of ships would also be a way to commemorate his son, in his death through the battle for blackwater bay. 

◈     master of whispers. in this divergence, varys did not die or betray her because she  ‘ went off the rails ’.  varys may have lost faith in her but daenerys’ kind nature and desire to give second chances was what gave him the opportunity to see something else in her  –––   a fire. he could see that daenerys knows what she needs to do in order to make this world far better than she found it and he believes in her to do so. master of whispers has always been a role he fulfilled in kings landing below kings that he has not necessarily believed in, so she would like to present him with the chance to work under her, having chosen her as his queen. 

◈     grand maester is something which would be offerered to samwell tarly. in this canon, daenerys did burn randyll tarly and other soldiers as punishment for the sack of highgarden and their distaste in taking her opportunity to fight for the winning side, especially as somebody who had an allegiance to house tyrell and decided to dishonour that for the premise of gold and serving under the lannister’s. she knows the hard work he endured throughout his time at the citadel and feels as though this is the perfect opportunity to honour the time that he spent there, as well as providing a safe place for gilly, sam and their new child to live  –––   under protection.

◈     master of law is something that i have not yet thought of and whilst tyrion would likely be perfect for the role, he is her hand. i am going to leave this one open as a plotting device to other people so if anybody would like to do a thread surrounding that role, then be my guest. this is also open to OC characters ��–––   including females as we need some more woman on this  small council. i am also open to other suggestions for this role  !!!

[stormquill]

One Equal Temper | chapter four [V/Reader]

As hell itself wreaks havoc upon your city, an angel lands on your doorstep—one who doesn’t seem to realize he has wings.

Author’s Notes: Follow the blog @one-equal-temper.

Notes: Content warning for suicidal thoughts.

Even in high concentrations, Qliphoth pollen was hard to see with the naked eye, but V could still sense the thick of it in the air. It was heaviest wherever civilians had grouped up but hadn’t made it out alive, such as traffic-jammed roads and community buildings used as safehouses. Where there were corpses, there was pollen.

Where there was pollen, there were demons.

V traversed the shattered streets of Red Grave while Griffon scouted overhead for more enemies to hunt down. In the near distance, a shred of lush green and stark white interrupted the dreary landscape of dust and haze. It sat on a small balcony several floors up an intact apartment building, the plant’s colours standing out from its dull surroundings as bright as Christmas lights in the dark.

Nearly two weeks had passed since the first attack. Without proper maintenance, something as insignificant as a personal planter should have withered away days ago.

Someone must have been taking care of it.

V pointed at the balcony with the tip of his cane. “There.”

“You got it,” Griffon said, and he was away.

V waited for his familiar to return, offering an arm for him to land on once he did so.

“Well, it’s a human.” Griffon perched and shook out his feathers. “Ain’t gonna last much longer, though.”

“Injured?”

“Nah, but humans ain’t supposed to be around Qliphoth pollen for this long. Whoever’s up there reeks of it. Fully infected with the stuff. Might have another few weeks—a month, tops. That’s if the demons don’t get to ’em first.”

V made a thoughtful noise. Though this was the first instance of Qliphoth poisoning they discovered so far, the nature of the situation didn’t come as a surprise. Civilian evacuation may have once been a priority, but two weeks into the disaster, most people they found were either dead or close enough to it.

“Let’s get goin’, V,” Griffon said, shrugging his head. “We shouldn’t bother with this one. Ain’t nothin’ we can do.”

Logically, V knew Griffon was right—they were halfway to their deadline, and they needed to optimize their time wherever they could. However, V couldn’t ignore his curiosity about the stranger in the apartment. They were someone who managed to survive this long on their own. Someone who didn’t know they were terminally contaminated by the very resources keeping them alive.

Someone who took care of flowers in their spare time.

Letting go of Griffon, V retrieved his book, as he often did in times of indecision. The words of William Blake held no prophecy for him, but it was a far more elegant solution than a coin flip.

“A flower was offered to me; such a flower as May never bore. But I said I’ve a Pretty Rose-tree; and I passed the sweet flower over.”

Griffon flew in place. “So...we move on?”

“On the contrary,” V smirked, shutting his book. “This means it is within our best interests to have a closer look.”

-

A few minutes ago, you had woken by V’s bedside with your hand in his, and your hair full of bloody, bent feathers Griffon crowned you with while you were asleep.

Now you felt like you were piloting a body that didn’t belong to you.

The two of you were standing on your balcony, watching the rising sun slip between spaces granted by the half-demolished buildings across the landscape. Dark clouds hovered ominously in the distance. Under the weight of V’s words, you went from gazing at the sky to glancing down over the railing in front of you, thinking that if you jumped from this height, you would only be saving yourself some time.

The headaches, you realized. The constant waves of pain that ebbed and flowed but never disappeared, were just forecasted echos of your own death rattle.

Bile rose in the back of your throat. Your vision drifted from the dizzying heights to the planter by your feet. The flowers there were tall and strong and so very much unlike you.

“I am sorry I did not tell you sooner,” V said.

A smile ghosted across your face. “Not really something you can bring up in casual conversation, is it?”

“I am not one to shy away from death. I have seen much of it during my time here, helping others escape the city.” Lowering his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I feel guilty for never having extended you the offer.”

“You didn’t help me escape because I was sick?”

“I do not know the nature of your condition. If there was the slightest chance it could result in further pollination of the Qliphoth, I could not risk having you leave city bounds.”

Understandable, you thought. When you first met him, he mentioned the disaster was contained to Red Grave—jeopardizing that just to buy some time for a then-stranger made no sense. You were a ticking time bomb, poisoned by the air you breathed and the water you were once thankful to still have running through your building. Be it death by demon or by hell-plant, you realized there was nothing you could have done to survive this ordeal. Your fate was sealed the moment you woke up in the recovery ward.

You fidgeted with the hospital band still around your wrist. “I think I knew.”

The words escaped you without thought. You felt the green depths of his eyes on you, and you really, really wished you couldn’t.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” you muttered, “but I think I just...deep down, I knew something was wrong. That’s why I told you I wasn’t interested in leaving the city. Because I knew I wouldn’t be able to.”

The thought filled you with a graceful sense of finality that eased your dissociation, and the electricity of your anxiety settled to a crackle within your bones. The trembling world around you still didn’t feel like your own, but at least it was starting to jitter back into place.

You folded your arms on top of your balcony railing. “You know, sometimes I think I died back in that car crash and woke up in limbo, and you’re some psychopomp sent here to take me home.”

V rested both hands on the grip of his cane. “His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire; a girdle, foul with grease, binds his obscene attire. He spreads his canvas, with his pole he steers; the freights of flitting ghosts in his thin bottom bears. He looked in years; yet in his years were seen; a youthful vigor and autumnal green.”

Amused, you cast him a sidelong glance. “A little pompous to make up poems about yourself, don’t you think?”

“It was written by a Roman poet named Virgil,” he smirked back, “about the ferryman of Hades.”

“If I give you a quarter, will you let me pass?”

“You are not dead, starlight.”

“Not yet.”

You continued looking out across the distance: the morning sun, the broken buildings, the grey clouds approaching on the wind. There was sure to be a storm tonight, and only one question left on your mind.

“...why did you knock on my door?”

You didn’t need to explain yourself further.

After Griffon’s first visit, V knew that you were alone and irreversibly poisoned by the demon tree. At that moment, he could have walked away without a word, knowing your infection would die in isolation with you, and you would have been none the wiser of his existence.

But V hadn’t done that.

Instead, he chose to visit you, finding your building’s front entrance completely barricaded with anything on the first floor you had strength enough to move. He chose to climb six flights of fire escape stairs up the side of your complex—he chose to knock on your door, to introduce himself, to accept your half-crazed invitation for tea.

Why?

It was your turn to keep your eyes on him now, and to your surprise, he would not look at you. He seemed reluctant to respond, but yours was the first truly personal question you asked of him in the days you had known each other. You would not back down without an answer. He owed you that, and he knew as much.

“I felt a kinship with you,” he settled on.

“You had no idea who I was.”

“Perhaps not at first.” More hesitance graced his features, drawing his brows together and wrinkling the corner of his nose. He gripped the railing before him tightly, as if he were bracing himself to speak. “As I have told you, I was placed within this realm to serve a purpose. What you do not know, however, is that if I am successful on my quest, I will...cease to exist.”

Your thoughts glazed over as you felt your stomach drop.

“When I learned of you, I saw myself,” he continued. “Frightened. Alone. Not long for this world. I believed helping you would assist in the navigation of my own shadows. Alas, I did not expect to find an evening star within the darkness.” With a somber smile, he turned to look at you. “My reasons for finding you were less than altruistic, I admit. In my selfishness, I withheld something important from you—something that was a matter of life and death. I understand if you are unwilling to forgive me for that.”

For the first time since the conversation started, you met each other’s eyes.

For the first time since you met, you understood that you and he were the same.

“Do you know why I came back for the flowers?” you asked.

He tilted his head ever-so-slightly in curious attention, his dark bangs brushing along the side of his face.

“Even before all this went down, I...didn’t really have anyone. I was alone. Being alone got hard, sometimes. So I, um.” You started fiddling with your wristband, again. “I bought some seeds. I learned how to plant them. How to take care of what grew. It probably sounds stupid, but...it was nice, you know? Having something that counted on me. When things got really bad, I would just think, ‘I can’t kill myself now. Who would take care of my flowers?’ And after everything that’s happened...I didn’t want to give up on the one thing that needed me. If they somehow managed to survive, I couldn’t leave them to die alone.”

Your throat suddenly felt tight. You turned away from him, lowering your head and pressing your palms into the corners of the balcony railing. Everything within you felt like it was welling up at once, but you willed yourself not to cry. Not here. Not now.

“You could’ve left me, back then.” You tried to keep your voice from wavering. “You could’ve left me to die alone, but you didn’t. You don’t have to be alone, either. I can be here until the end of us, if you’ll let me.”

You felt a hand rest on top of yours.

“The privilege is mine,” he said.

Somehow, the weight of his hand felt heavier than before.

Letting your eyes slip shut, you took a deep, shuddering breath, focusing on nothing more than keeping yourself from breaking down. You wanted to turn around and reach out and hold him—he would be a much better anchor than the railing, you were sure of it—but the headache still flashing lightning behind your eyes was blinding, an unholy mixture of demonic migraines and unprocessed grief.

“Can I have some time alone?” you asked. “Not long, I just. I need to think.”

“...I do not think it wise to leave you to your own devices at the moment.”

“I’ve made it this far, you really think I’m gonna throw it all away by killing myself? How boring of an ending would that be?”

You meant for the joke to lighten the mood, but the way he was looking at you now made your heart sink. The concern in his eyes was uncompromising.

“I can’t kill myself now,” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Who would take care of you?”

He smirked. “Who, indeed?”

V released your hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, and the sweetness of his touch was almost enough to dull the pain.

-

It took some convincing to assure V you weren’t a danger to yourself, but he eventually agreed to give you space that afternoon—on one, non-negotiable condition.

The idea of being babysat by a demon didn’t sit right with you, but you appreciated the concern.

With Shadow never more than a few paces behind you, you tried to go on with the rest of your day, rumination over the morning’s events serving as background noise to the idle buzzing of your headache. You changed out of your soiled clothes. You took a shower to rid yourself of last night’s blood stains. The water was ice-cold like always, as you had no electricity to warm it, but you sat on the shower floor and stayed under the stream until you were as numb as the thoughts bouncing around your throbbing skull made you feel.

You were going to die.

You were going to die and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it.

The revelation didn’t affect you the way you thought it would. You felt like you should have been sadder, angrier, more indignant about the whole situation—but the truth was you came into this mess pre-saddled with learned helplessness. In the weeks before V arrived, you thought the chances of being rescued were slim to none, and you held no illusion about being able to survive indefinitely without demons closing in on your position. For you, dying wasn’t so much a matter of if as a matter of how.

Now you knew.

The rest of your day was spent curled up in bed, your head buried beneath your pillows as Shadow kept a watchful eye on you from her guard at your bedroom door. Rain had arrived with the evening and it made you feel as unsafe as it always did since the attack. Being unable to see or hear anything beyond the storm sent your mind reeling, imagining what manner of hellish creatures could be closing in on you without your knowledge. Every clap of thunder seemed to rattle the hive inside your head, and you wondered how long the infection would take to eat away at you. You wondered if you would lose your memory.

You wondered if it would hurt when you died.

This is how V must have felt, too, you realized—knowing the end was coming, like a stormcloud on the horizon, keeping you resigned to the inevitability of its arrival. Still, where you were once terrified, trying to survive behind barricades and stolen rations, it was almost freeing to know nothing you did mattered, anymore.

Shadow gave a quiet growl at your door. You poked your head out from beneath the covers. She looked at you, took a few steps from the doorway, then glanced over her shoulder to look at you again.

She wanted you to follow her.

There was no urgency to her steps as you took the familiar path through the dark hallways to the fire escape. The window was open when you arrived, letting rain pool on the floor. You recognized the figure standing outside long before he came into view.

V leaned against the window frame under no cover from the rain, fully soaked from head to toe. His skin and leathers alike were slick with water, and his wet hair stuck to the sides of his face, the black strands appearing a deep blue beneath the moonlight.

He reached a hand through the open window. “You told me you missed the rain.”

Your knee-jerk thoughts kicked into overdrive—this was absurd, you’d get drenched, you’d catch a cold if you went out in this weather—but you noticed the carefree glint in his eyes and you were reminded of the briefness of your shared timeline.

(Nothing you did mattered, anymore.)

Charon offered you his left hand, and you accepted it, with vigor.

“Hold tight,” he said.

Your first mistake was assuming you would take the stairs.

With your still hand in his, V leapt over the fire escape railing. An embarrassing shriek tore from your throat as your guts gave a sickening dip during the six-story drop. Shadow morphed into a cloud of black smoke and shot out beneath you, faster than anything, her form a dense fog beneath your feet that guided your fall and allowed you all a soft landing. You landed with far less elegance than V did, but his hand within yours kept you steady on your feet.

“Jesus christ,” you chuckled nervously, near trembling from head to toe. “Warn me before dragging me off a fucking building next time, will you?”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?”

In a billow of dark vapour, Shadow returned to her sigils tattooed across V’s skin.

The streets around your building were still a destroyed mess, with large sections of pavement a rough puzzle of split pieces beneath your feet. The pouring rain was cold against your skin, but still warmer than your earlier shower; it didn’t take long for you to get completely drenched as you walked alongside V.

V ran a hand through his sodden hair, flipping it back and out of his face, and the sight of him had you hypnotized. His eyes drifted to meet your stare before sliding down to take in the sight of you—and you were suddenly very aware of how your soaked top was clinging against your skin.

“The rain suits you, starlight.”

“That makes two of us.”

A sly smile, and he turned away from you, again.

V kept several paces ahead of you as you continued your leisurely stroll. He began twirling his silver staff in his hand and placing one foot directly in front of the other, heel to toe, as if he were walking the length of an invisible string. There was a sudden bounce in his step you weren’t sure what to make of, at least not until he started strutting along low walls and uneven chunks of debris with perfect balance. Spinning his cane between his fingers with practiced ease, he performed choreographed steps to some silent rhythm playing in his head, moving confidently beneath the rain as if he were the star of a showtune.

You couldn’t believe your eyes.

He doubled back to quite literally dance circles around you. You couldn’t hold back your laughter, and the sound was music to his ears.

You applauded. “All you need is a top hat and you’ll be ready for Broadway.”

“Indeed.” Coming to a stop in front of you, he gave a gentle bow as he offered you his hand. “Care to join me?”

Once again, your immediate thoughts were of embarrassment, rejection, impracticality—but once again, you thought better of it, and you took his hand without objection.

V guided your arm, holding your hand up and a little off to the side of you. The hand that held his cane rested closed-fist against your waist; you could feel the length of steel along your back, and it kept your posture straight.

“I’ve never really done this before,” you mumbled.

“Not to worry,” he replied, guiding you closer to him. “Just follow my lead.”

(Didn’t you always?)

Without warning, V started to move.

Step, one, two. Step, one, two.

The moves weren’t complicated—he took you on a slow, informal sort of waltz, his swaying steps back and forth simple and easy to follow. Though you somehow managed to keep both your left feet from stepping on his, there was an effortless fluidity to his movements that made you feel clunky and square-wheeled in his arms.

“Shouldn’t there be music?” you teased, trying to hide your self-consciousness.

“Ah, I knew I was forgetting something. Let’s see, now...”

And he began to hum the first few notes of Singin’ In The Rain.

You could not stop yourself from shying away, from pressing your forehead to the crook of his neck to hide your smile against him, for the way he looked at you as he hummed the melody was enough to set your cheeks on fire. Not one to be deterred, he rested his chin on top your head and continued the song in its entirety, syncing your gentle, swaying motions to the tune. You could feel the resonance of his voice vibrating beneath his chest.

He sounded happy, or something like it.

In a moment of bravery, you stepped back and raised your held hands as far as they could go. Laughing, V took your cue and twirled—at his height, you had to tiptoe and he had to bend down for him to make it all the way under your arm.

The sound of his laughter, the sight of a smile that actually reached his eyes—knowing you were responsible for both made your pulse thunder more than normal within your head.

You rested a hand against his cheek and he leaned into your touch as he did the previous night, affectionate and undeniably cat-like.

“...can I kiss you?”

The words fell from your mouth, rushed and uncertain, emptying all the air from your lungs. The confidence in his eyes flickered and filled with questioning—that same innocent curiosity from your very first meeting, as if he were surprised to be seen this way.

As if he’d never done this, before.

“Please,” came his whisper, gentle and sure.

So you tiptoed.

Soft was the first word that came to mind—from the careful press of his lips to yours, to the feeling of his rain-soaked skin beneath your fingertips, to the way he eased so completely beneath your touch. It surprised you, how someone who seemed all sharp angles and rough edges could feel so delicate in your hands.

He hadn’t realized his eyes were shut until he opened them. He was not sure if he forgot to breathe, or if you simply took his breath away. Multitudes of experiences lingered within his memories, but few had been realized by this vessel; this felt far more powerful to him than any single memory he came equipped with, for this was a moment he made entirely for himself.

He may not have been his own, but you, you were—his and his alone.

Holding his face in your hands, you laughed softly with a happiness you hadn’t known yourself capable of, the sudden tears spilling down your cheeks indistinguishable from the rain.

However much time you had left together, you swore you would make the most of it.

[tessatechaitea]

Team Titans #17

Team Titans is an anagram of Fuck Donald Trump.

The joke in the caption relies on regular readers knowing that I keep doing anagrams of the title except this time the anagram isn't an anagram at all! I know some people probably didn't even have to double check, especially the really observant ones who instinctively knew that "Team Titans" did not contain an "F". But the other point of that caption is to make readers who both enjoy Donald Trump and the stupid shit I write about comic books suddenly realize that they don't like what I write at all. In half a second, they'll realize how stupidly wrong they were about their opinions of this blog. In a half second after that, they'll admit that they've always thought I was a dumb asshole who has never written anything clever in his entire life. A few seconds after that, they'll probably be jerking off to another Hillary Clinton rant by Sean Hannity. We all have to face the consequences of our beliefs and actions. One of the consequences of supporting the modern GOP lampreys attached to the tits and ass fat of Donald Trump is that you don't get to enjoy myriad entertainments. Pretty much all you've got is Last Man Standing and reruns of Home Improvement. Of course, you could try to ignore what you've now learned because I probably won't mention it again for quite some time. But it's also possible I might pull at your victim status trigger again by the next paragraph! Speaking of triggers, the NRA can eat their own filthy asshole. Unless they like doing that! They seem like the kind of organization that would like doing that! And I don't mind kink-shaming people who love to eat their own filthy assholes because the Venn Diagram of people who can eat their own assholes and people who love to eat filthy assholes is nonexistent.

This whole nineties Teen Titans thing went off the rails a tiny bit when they introduced a rapist version of Nightwing with a nipple ring.

Is it weird that I have an unrepentant love for Lobo and a slightly repentant love for Deathstork but I feel like I'd be crossing a line having any kind of love for Deathwing? I get why people love Lobo because he's over the top and his space jeans craft a nice package in his nether area. Plus the chains! So penis stiffening! And Deathstork was cool enough to have gotten an underage girl he fucked killed without the entire comic book community feeling disgusted by him. I think his old age helped. Deathstork is like a beloved grandfather who tells such incredible stories from his youth that nobody minds that 23% of them are racist. But if somebody told me Deathwing was their favorite character, I'd be frightened. Although I guess they could mitigate that fright by explaining they like the Rebirth Deathwing and then I'd just be, "Oh, sorry. I didn't know you were gay. Cool!" That probably came across as me using gay as a synonym for lame but it was meant to express my feelings that Rebirth Deathwing should be a gay icon, if he isn't already. Like the Babadook. In that picture above, Deathwing is coming out of a clockmaker's closet (so maybe he's a gay icon too?), probably to rape the clockmaker (Oh yeah! He's totally rapey, so probably not a gay icon!). Now I'm wondering why Superman doesn't stop more rapes? Or why he doesn't commit himself to stopping all rapes? He could end rape forever with his powers! I guess he just doesn't have the commitment to end rape. You know how fast rape would have been stopped if Bruce Wayne's parents had been raped in that alley? Considering how many murders still happen in Gotham City even though Batman has dedicated his life to stopping injustice, I'm guessing it wouldn't have been fast at all. Batman is a huge failure. Meanwhile back at the Long Ranch, Nightrider (as opposed to Deathrider, his rapey twin), recovers from being shot by the neighbor. Granted, the neighbor also tracked down the wounded vampire to rescue him. He didn't realize he was shooting a living, feeling creature. He just thought he was killing a stupid bat! I hope no bats read this blog! They might think I'm being insensitive to bats! And, I mean, I am! But I don't want them to know that! They might start sending me memes of their creepy little faces saying things like, "Bats have rights too!" and "Bats cry more than most human males!" and "Today is the worst day of the rest of your terrible life, motherfucker!" That last one would make a good motivational poster for the lunchroom at most offices.

Wait. Is "vampire" a derogatory term?!

I just watched a Kids React video on YouTube about whether or not "hell" was a curse word. Sydney took the opportunity to say as many near curse words as she thought she could get away with. I'm pretty sure if I were young or hip or with it (which I obviously am not as noted by my usage of "hip" and "with it"), I would now use the word stan somehow. Why is there a Kids React for "How to Cure a Hangover"? What the fuck is wrong with the Fine Brothers?! Here are some more great ideas for your dumb Internet show: "Kids React to Joe Pesci's Death Scene in Goodfellas" "Kids React to Satanic Rituals" "Kids React to Seeing Their Parents Murdered" "Kids React to Goat Testicles" "Kids React to Their First Blow Job" I should stop listing these because I could do it all day and also I think some of them would actually work. The "How to Cure a Hangover" video isn't actually a Kids React; it's an advice episode featuring all ages of reactors. The first question they must give advice for is "How do I get someone to kiss me on New Year's Eve?" According to a lot of the answers, nobody seemed to give much of a shit about consent in 2016. Although my stan Sydney is all, "Get your parents to kiss you!" Oh my God she owns the world. The next question Sydney answers is "How do I touch a rainbow?" She says to get the biggest ladder in the world so she might be kind of dumb. I mean, a ladder doesn't have to be that big to touch a rainbow! Although she is just a kid so I'll let her slide on this answer. I suppose it's more important that she gives a cute answer than a correct one. For "How do I cure a hangover?", Sydney says, "Why are you asking me this question?" After which, I'm assuming, she walked off camera and kicked both Fine Brothers in the balls at the same time. Okay, back to Team Titans! The neighbor tries to apologize by explaining that he wouldn't have tried to murder the bat if he'd known it wasn't a disgusting bat. Terry Long, the worst character in a comic book full of terrible characters (and I'm including Deathwing here!), blames the victim and Terra's angst meter tops out. She goes into a blind Tumblr rage without any regard to the neighbor's apology, explaining how Nightrider was only acting on his true nature. The row disturbs Donna's baby which becomes the worst issue of the night.

"Whith"? I've never noticed Donna's weird accent before this issue! I also love how she thrusts her baby at the others to show that they've upset it.

While the majority of the team take Nightrider to STAR Labs for treatment (can't they just let him suck the baby a little bit?), Mirage and Terra stay behind to protect Terry and the baby. Well, Terra stays behind to protect them. Mirage still suffers from the trauma of being raped while none of the others seem to give a shit. She's decided to run away and have her baby somewhere else. Hopefully she won't have the baby in the town where Deathwing grew up because you know what that would mean, right?! Ugh, I can't even type it! Mirage was raped by her own time traveling son! Okay, it wasn't that hard to type after all.

Out in the yard, four elementals are approaching to kill Terra: an elemental of glaciers, an elemental of shit, an elemental of men's farts, and an elemental of lady's farts.

Over at STAR Labs, Doctor Velcro determines Nightrider's life can't be saved because he's already dead. He's a vampire! And Doctor Velcro knows because he's a not just a vampire specialist but a vampire himself! He's one of the Creature Commandos! His prescription to keep Nightrider alive is human blood. At this declaration, the rest of the Team Titans begin acting like Nightrider is a goner. So their first thought is that he's going to die if he doesn't drink human blood? Not one of them is all, "Drink from my veins, buddy! As much as you need! Well, maybe not too much! You know, just a taste! But there are like eight of us, so you can probably get your fill by sampling us all!" Fucking jerks.

The 90s had some pretty fucking nihilistic AIDS public service adverts.

As Terra protects New York as a Team Titan by defending herself against elementals that want to kill her, the rest of the Team Titans defend New York by battling a bunch of electric beings in thongs that want to kidnap Killowat. I laugh in your face, Councilwoman Alderman! Look at all the good these Titans are doing for the city! The energy beings easily kidnap Killowat because he only had the majority of the Team Titans and Battalion defending him. Terra, all alone, just barely manages not to die in her battle right before a newly human Prester Jon (back from the Terminus Agenda!) manages to save her.

This might be my favorite panel from 1994. In case you couldn't tell by his idiotic hands or his stupid baby, that's Terry Long under the clock.

The person who kidnapped Killowat turns out to be the clockmaker's old beau, the one that taught her to work on futuristic Titans' communicators. He was a member of the Team Titans named Lazarium but he seems to have been a spy working for Lord Chaos. The leader of the Team Titans (identity still unknown!) sent him and his team back in time to die. But he survived and now he owns a good chunk of the media world. His name might as well be Rupert Murdoch because he has a media empire that's trying to turn the world against heroes and he has his own sexual harassment problems in his organization, seeing as how Deathwing works for him. Team Titans #17 Rating: It took seventeen issues but I'm finally interested in this comic book! The Lazarium story arc has momentum and ties in to the overall history of the team, hopefully finally separating them from the Titans book for a bit. I know it still relies on garbage time travel theories but it also threatens to expose Killowat as a huge racist piece of shit! That should be exciting! It's also slightly heavy on implied rape which I didn't mean to add as one of the reasons I'm enjoying the book but just as a simple fact to say, "Look. This was a comic book from 1994! Rape was an important plot point to raise tension and pull on the emotional heartstrings of an audience that didn't quite understand how writers were just using rape as a lazy way of creating drama and emotional tenstion!" What I'm trying to say is: B+! Good work, everybody!

[saoirse7ilysi]

ML Fluff Month

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Read it on A03

This is part of a collaboration between: @saijspellhart, @yamina20-blog, @ao3bronte, @aknazer and myself in celebration of @miraculousfluffmonth!

I have to give a MASSIVE thank you to @aknazer, as I was stuck on this chapter for days. I had most of it written out, but I couldn't seem to finish it. I knew it need more but I couldn't figure out what the hell that was.

And so I handed it over to the group of lovely ladies all participating in this collaboration, and here comes Fairia, asking, "May I?" I gave her access and the woman is MAGICAL, I swear! She went through and redid the first portion of this drabble, giving me a launching point to finish it.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Fairia! You are AWESOME!!

16. I'm Here (MariChat)

Chat was known for a lot of things, and hesitating wasn’t one of them. Ladybug called it a death wish, but he preferred to think of it as...confidence. A lot of confidence. He saw what needed to be done, and he did it. Chat’s actions had gotten him out of as many scrapes as it had gotten him into, so he decided that it was a good thing (no matter what Ladybug said).

So when he saw Marinette - his longtime friend and somebody not usually prone to panicking - running full tilt down the sidewalk at half past nine, he decided that needed investigating and dropped down from his perch to run alongside her.

“What’s the rush, princess?”

Marinette screeched, arms flailing dramatically as she tripped, dropping the bag she was holding and plummeting face-first towards the sidewalk.

“Holy-!” Chat reached out, grateful for his enhanced reflexes as he grabbed her arm and yanked her back upright. “I knew you were fond of me, but, truly, no need to fall quite so hard.” He laughed, offering her a cheeky wink as she stared at him.

“Chat?” She asked breathlessly, shoving lose hair back from her face as she blinked at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I was out on patrol and saw you, so I decided to drop in.” Chat grinned unrepentantly as she scowled. “What’s got you out so late?” He asked, picking up her fallen bag and handing it to her.

Marinette abruptly forgot her irritation, yanking the bag open to examine the contents critically.

“Alya is leaving for a wedding tonight, and she asked me to make her a sundress to wear.” Marinette explained, shutting the bag with a satisfied nod. “But things got...busy this week, and I just finished it. Which isn’t good, because her flight is in… an hour and a half!” She yelped, taking off again.

“Ninety minutes?” Chat asked, running alongside her as she ducked between pedestrians. “That should be plenty of time, right? Why are you running?”

“Ninety minutes until her flight, Chat.” Marinette panted, shooting him a look that clearly said he’d missed something vital. “She has to check in sixty minutes prior, and it’s about a twenty minute drive to the airport. So I’ve got ten minutes to make a fifteen-minute run to her house.”

Checking in sixty minutes before a flight seemed a bit excessive to Chat, but...Adrien didn’t normally fly commercial flights, or, if he did, he was pre-checked by his father’s secretary. Either way, Marinette was clearly stressed, so he did the only thing he could think of.

“Want a lift?”

“Yes!” Marinette skidded to a halt. “That would be amazing, thank you!”

Chat turned, offering her his back, surprised when she climbed on without any hesitation. Then again...this wasn’t the first time they’d done this. Granted, it had only been a handful of times over the years, but it still warmed him to think that his friend trusted him like this. Pulling out his baton, he extended it, sending them vaulting towards the rooftops.

Once there, Chat hesitated, recalling that he wasn’t supposed to know where Alya lived. “Ah… Where am I going?”

Marinette chuckled before pointing, her breath tickling his ear as she explained where to go. Chat nodded and then took off, running across roofs, vaulting over the ravines created by alleys as he followed her voice whispering in his ear.

They arrived just as Alya was opening the door to the taxi, dropping unceremoniously onto the sidewalk next to her.

“Oh my- Marinette?” Alya squawked, backpack falling off of her shoulder as she jerked backwards, staring at them wide-eyed and clutching her phone to her chest.

“Hey.” Marinette grinned at her brightly, hopping off of Chat’s back and throwing her arms out dramatically. “I’m here!”

“I can see that.” Alya laughed, throwing her backpack into the taxi. She turned toward her friend, who was rushing forward.

“Your dress!” Marinette thrust the garment bag toward her. “I’m so sorry I almost didn't get it to you in time.”

“Girl, you know I always have faith in you. I wasn't gonna give up hope until the plane took off.” She grinned at Marinette, reassuringly, and took the offered bag.  “I have to get going, though. I'm running late, myself.”

She hugged Marinette real quick, saying, “We’ll talk about your mode of transportation when I get back.” Pulling back, she winked at her friend. Alya turned back to the vehicle, wiggling her fingers at the cat themed hero. “Later, Chat Noir.”

“Miss Ladyblogger. Have a good trip,” he said, clicking his heels together for a flourishing bow. As he stood back up, Alya was already in the taxi, and shutting the door.

Marinette smiled, waving at her friend, “See you, Alya! Have fun!”

They watched as the car pulled away, and Alya stuck her head out the window, the wind catching her hair as she shouted back at them, “Don't get too carried away without me! I'll be back for the latest in two weeks!”

“I'll call you!” Marinette yelled back. She watched as Alya pulled her head back in the car, in favor of sticking her hand out to wave back.

Once the car was out of sight, Marinette sighed in relief, releasing the tension in her shoulders as she dropped them dramatically. She was glad she was able to get the dress delivered in time. Turning back toward Chat, she smiled gratefully.

“Thank you. I never would have gotten here before she left without your help.” She lifted her arm to rub the back of her neck in a bashful gesture.

“Always a pleasure, princess.” He bowed again, holding out his hand. “Would the little lady like another lift?”

He stood back up, looking at her with his most charming grin, once she took his hand, accepting his offer. He turned around, guiding her hand to his shoulder, allowing her to climb back on. Once again, she didn't hesitate.

And once again, her trust in him warmed his heart. On impulse, he decided to give her something he was sure she would love. It wasn't long before she noticed they weren't heading back to her house. In fact, they weren't even headed in that direction.

“Chat? Where are we going?” Her tone was more curious, than anything else, only proving to him the level of trust she had in him.

“I thought you might enjoy to see the city the way I do at night. Is that okay?” He answered, landing on a nearby rooftop. He didn't want to continue if she would rather go home. While she might know she wasn't in any danger with him, he also wanted her to know that she had a choice, and he would happily oblige, either way.

She smiled, tightening her grip around him, receiving his message, loud and clear. She knew what her partner was doing and she loved him for it. It wasn't often she got to see the city like this without the mask. To feel the crisp night air against more than just her face sounded nice, especially after the stressful day she’d been having, fearing not getting Alya’s dress made before she left.

“Yes, Chaton. I would love that.” She relaxed her grip, allowing him the flexibility he needed to maneuver.

A smile spread across his face and he adjusted himself in her embrace, extending his baton, once again taking off. He carried her all throughout Paris, showing her the beauty of the city in the dead of night. He could feel her relax more and more as they went.

After launching them particularly high, her legs tightened around his waist and she let go of his shoulders, lifting her arms toward the night sky. She felt as if she could touch the stars if she just reached high enough. She loved the feel of the cool air against her skin.

The moment her arms left his neck, Chat felt his heart skip a beat. It surprised him that his friend would be that daring. He knew Marinette was brave, but to let go of him so high above the ground. Her trust in him must have been much more than he’d ever imagined.

However, he knew how clumsy she could be, so he reached behind him, using her arm to help support her. He felt as if his heart was going to burst. He loved how much she was enjoying herself.

Feeling his support under her, she lowered one hand to rest on his shoulder, making one last attempt to touch the sky before gravity took over. As they began their descent, she returned her arms to their original position around Chat’s neck. With her securing herself back into place, he removed his arm from under her and made for another launch, leading the two of them back into the sky, so she could see the sparkling city once again.

Of course, she was able to see these spectacular views nearly every night, and most of those nights with Chat by her side. But this was much different than it ever was in the suit. Not having to be on guard, worried about akuma attacks. It was a nice change, being able to fully relax in this way.

After taking her on a tour through the city skies, Chat brought Marinette to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Once she was on her feet again, he reduced his baton to its natural state, spinning in his hand, before hooking it on his lower back.

He watched as Marinette stretched before leaning on the rail to look out. A smile tugged at his mouth, as in that moment, she kind of reminded him of Ladybug. After a moment, he moved to join her in leaning against the railing.

She took a deep, cleansing breath, closing her eyes. As she slowly let it out she leaned her head on his shoulder. He smiled at the contact, surprised once more at how relaxed his shy friend was in his presence. He’d only interacted with her as Chat Noir a handful of times over the years, and yet here she was, leaning on him as if she were close to him.

He didn't want to think too hard about it, so he decided to just accept it. He liked seeing Marinette like this. Her schedule seemed to have her on a constant move, and he never really had the chance to see her relaxed, even when they were hanging out with their group of friends. During those times, she was usually playing host.  

After a moment, she opened her eyes, taking in the view. The city sparkled in such a way that it seemed to glow in the night, the lights reflecting beautifully in the Seine River. It was a sight that would always amaze her, no matter how many times she saw it.

“It’s so beautiful up here,” she said quietly. She was glad to have Chat here, with her, both because she always enjoyed his company, and also because, with them being so close to one another, his heat kept her from getting too cold.

Chat hummed an agreement, glad to be able to show her this. If anyone deserved to experience such a view, it would be Marinette.

“And peaceful. This is my favorite place to go to relax, night or day,” his voice was just as quiet and calm as her’s.

They stayed like that for some time, before Marinette opted to sit, letting her legs dangle below her. Chat followed suit and sat next to her. Once he was settled, Marinette resumed her position of resting her head on his shoulder.

Not much was said between them, as they both felt completely comfortable just existing together, breathing the crisp night air, and revelling in the quiet.

While they sat there, in the quiet, Chat noticed Marinette’s weight against his shoulder, growing heavier. Looking down at her, he couldn't help it when a fond smile formed on his face, having discovered she had fallen asleep.

Carefully, so as not to disturb her, he slowly shifted, so her head lay more comfortably on his shoulder, then slipped his arms around her back and under her knees. Once he was confident of his grip, he stood. Letting her knees gently down, he slowly extended his baton, having retrieved it while they were still sitting.

He was determined not to wake her. Deciding that this journey would be best done on foot, he used his baton just enough to get them to the bottom of the Eiffel Tower. Once, his feet touched down, he stored the baton away, where it belonged.

Continuing to be careful, Chat reached down to lift his princess in his arms, to take her home. It didn't take him long to reach her house, and when he did, he noticed her maman at the door to the bakery.

Upon seeing Chat Noir carrying her daughter, she immediately opened the door, coming out to meet them.

“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng,” Chat greeted quietly, still trying not to disturb Marinette, and seeing the worry on her maman’s face. “She’s okay, she just fell asleep.”

Relief fell over Sabine’s face as she looked to the sleeping girl. She placed a gentle hand on Chat’s arm, catching his attention and quietly mentioning for him to follow her. She led him up to Marinette’s room.

Upon laying her down in her bed, Sabine took over tucking her daughter in, removing her shoes, and covering her with a blanket. Chat retreated to the  hallway, allowing the two women privacy.

Once there, Marinette’s papa, Tom, noticed him. He approached the cat themed hero with a questioning look on his face.

“Chat Noir, is everything alright?” He looked to where Chat had just come from, seeing his wife climb down the stairs, closing the trap door.

Chat lifted both hands, with a reassuring smile. “Everything is fine, Sir,” he said, moving his hand to the back of his head in a nervous gesture, “I just, uh, thought she might enjoy seeing Paris from my perspective. She seemed stressed, so…” He trailed off with a slight chuckle. “I guess, we lost track of time…”

Sabine went to stand beside her husband, turning toward Chat. She smiled gently at him. “Well, thank you for bringing her home.”

“And next time, try to have her back before four in the morning. I know she’s eighteen, but a father still worries,” Tom finished, briefly resting a hand on Chat’s shoulder.

Chat straightened, taking on a serious expression “Yes, Sir. Absolutely. This won't happen again.” He gave a deep bow. Determined to show both of Marinette’s parents all the respect, he knew, they deserved.

They let Chat go, giving him some cookies, as they needed to get to work in the bakery.

When Chat got home, and de-transformed, he flopped backward onto his bed with a contented sigh, ignoring the high pitch whining coming from his kwami.

[petri808]

Zero Degrees of Separation

AU Story, FT Next Gen.  Jerza kids.  4300 words.  I wrote this story for a school assignment. Pics of the kids are on my side blog @petrischronicles

It is summer break before Identical twins Andesine & Azurite Fernandez will be leaving for college on opposite sides of the country. Their family takes their annual summer vacation to the mountains but both brothers are troubled about breaking their connection.  ​

The breeze coming off the crystalline lake was something Azurite Fernandez always appreciated when they visited the summer cabin.  It had that typical rustic quality of earthy scented pine, mixed with warbling birds and chattering squirrels, a beautiful serenity and today was no exception as the warm kiss of mountain sunlight blanketed the family from powder blue skies. He stood there with his eyes closed letting the calming peace and quiet sweep him away for it might be years before he’d be back again.  This was perfect, he mused to himself.  Someday building a house and raising a family in a place like this appealed to his inner nature.

“Azurite, could you help your sister with her bags?”

He opened his eyes and released the fresh moist air from his lungs, “sure mom,” before turning towards his family’s SUV.  Azi clicked his tongue, chuckling as his sister struggled with her oversized suitcase. Grabbing it from her and setting it on the ground he teases, “did you pack your entire room?”

Amethyst huffs, picking up her smaller carry-on and purse from the ground, “not all of us loves this place as much as you do, I needed things to keep me busy.”  

“I’m with Amy on this,” their brother Andesine, Azi’s twin, throws his arm over his brother’s shoulder. “I’d much rather be hanging out with Sage and the others, considering most of us are going to different parts of the country in a couple months.”

“Tch,” Azurite crosses his arms, “then I would just as much prefer to spend time with my girlfriend then you.”

“Alright, alright boys,” their father Jellal chides them as he walks past into the house, “it’s family time, not friend time so just deal with it and make your mother happy for a couple of weeks.”  With a sigh, Azurite simply grabs his sister’s suitcase and along with his sullen siblings makes their way into the house behind him.

That evening as Andi and Amy hole up in their rooms with their phones or laptops, and their parents enjoy the rest of the night in the den, Azurite ventures out onto the spacious wrap around deck, propping himself atop a railing.  With his long legs easily balancing on the beam and his back against one of the pillars, he had chosen the spot because it was a clear vantage point of the nighttime lake.  Dark and ominous waters like at any moment some creature could walk out of its depths ready to strike at the unaware and yet, with the shimmering moonlit surface, instead of a creature, maybe a beautiful water goddess come to grant you any wish you desire.  A slight uptick around the corners of his mouth are the only indication when a few fond memories begin to flow through.  

Such supernatural creatures were common topics when they were little.  Nights like this one spent on the shore sleeping under the stars, trading story ideas, or dreams of heroes and villains come to life.  Just a lot of imagination packed between the Fernandez twins and the seeming link they shared was evident.  One would start a sentence and the other would finish it, an idea for a character would come to mind and the other would simply nod and agree as if they could see it too.  Like words never spoken aloud but through the spirit became secrets only they could share driving their sister crazy because it left her out of the loop.

They used to love fishing with their father, sometimes competing with each other on who could catch the biggest fish, campfire smores with their mom who made sure they didn’t burn their hands, and tag teaming scares upon their little sister.  On sunny afternoons the boys would swim out to the middle of the lake where a platform had been anchored, jumping off or sun bathing.  Hikes with the family in the surrounding forests were a treat to find bugs and other critters or make forts amongst the trees to search for dragons.  

It was quite an enjoyable childhood, but like many kids, as they got older, and their individual personalities developed, different interests and friendships pulled them in separate directions.  They were still brothers that got along for the most part, but no longer peas in the same pod.  Azurite closes his eyes, ‘and the distance is only gonna grow wider when we leave for college.’  It wasn’t that he wanted to be separated from his brother or family, but when one receives a full-ride scholarship to M.I.T, they’d be a fool to decline. Unfortunately, that meant he’d be attending school in Massachusetts clear across the country from Santa Barbara where Andesine had opted to go.

“Will you cheer up Az?” the warm hand of his brothers upon his shoulder, rouses Azurite from his reflections only to look over and see the smug smirk of his twin staring back. Andesine taps his temple, “is the distance really bothering you that much, cause ya know eventually we had to cut the cord.”

“I wasn’t thinking…” Again, Andi taps the side of his head and cocks an eyebrow.  “Okay, sure, maybe I was but that wasn’t the only thing.”

“A…” searching his pockets, he pulls out the only thing he had and holds it up with a goofy grin, “piece of gum for your thoughts?”

Even Azurite had to laugh at the silly antics of his twin, “It’s nothing,” waving his hand, “maybe I’m just nervous about being so far away from everyone.  I mean, aren’t you?”

“Mmm,” Andi tips his head, “not really, kinda excited to see all them California girls!” singing out part of the Katie Perry song.

Azurite rolls his eyes, “You are so bad!”

“And you are too good!” Andi retorts and laughs out loud, “I feel like I need to balance out this dynamic duo!”  Azurite tries to hide the amusement but fails miserably since his brother can read him. “Come on… grumpy gus,” he playfully punches Azi’s arm, “just get some sleep and maybe you’ll feel better.”

After his bother moves out of the way, Azi slides off the railing and stretches out his stiffened back. “Mom guys crash yet?”

Andesine nods, “fell asleep on the couch.  I think Amy too, cause her light was off.”  He pulls out his phone, “I don’t think you realize but you’ve been out here for several hours, see,” showing his brother the time, “it’s almost 2 am.”

Azi frowns, “I didn’t. But why are you still awake?”

“I wasn’t, just woke up when I felt something bothering you.”

“Sorry.”

“‘so’kay man, I’ll see ya upstairs.”

“Be there in a minute.” Azurite watches his brother walk back into the house and takes one more look at the lake...

To the outside world, Andesine Fernandez was the quintessential jokester who never took life seriously.  He did decently in school, had his own aspirations, tons of friends, and fashioned himself a lady’s man, though this last notion might be more in his head than reality.  But just because he lived in the realm of humor, wasn’t to say he didn’t care or pay attention, he simply preferred to live by the YOLO ‘You Only Live Once’ motto.  This stark contrast in personality from his more reticent and bookish twin, was along with their different colored hair, the most noticeable distinctions.  

A few nights later, the family sits around a small campfire in front of the house, relaxing after a long day of hiking around the forest and lake.  Amy and their mother Erza chatter about a Korean drama they both watch, and Andi is only half listening to Azurite and their dad discuss the latest MMA fight in the UFC.  Maybe Azi had a point about the distance, it wasn’t something he’d really thought about until now, probably because, well, ‘I didn’t want to, I mean, it’s only a physical thing!’  But as the dancing flames of the fire crackle and send wisps of burning embers floating into the air, Andesine’s thoughts go with them. His eyes dilate, focusing on the red-orange glow, mesmerized and sending his mind into a distant timeframe.

‘Don’t even think about it, Andi,’ his brother blocks him, ‘mom already gave you a Hershey.’

‘Ugh!  It’s so irritating that you know what I’m thinking!  When we get older, I hope this stupid twin thing stops too!’

‘I don’t really like it either, cause dealing with you is frustrating.’

But their mother had stepped into the argument, chiding her sons, ‘there will come a day when you’ll regret saying that stuff.’  Pulling them into a hug on each side of her body, ‘that special bond means you’ll always have each other to fall back on, even when you’re far apart.’

‘Why would be far apart?’ Azurite asked their mom.

‘Well…’ squeezing them tighter, ‘one day you’ll grow up, go to college, meet a girl, maybe settle down and have a family.  As much as I’ll miss my boys, I want you to be happy and independent in the future.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Andi shrugged, ‘I can’t wait to grow up!’

She chuckled, ‘don’t worry, before you know it, you will be…’

Andesine’s brows furrow at the memory, sometimes he hated to admit when their mother was right, but damn was she ever.  A night exactly like this one, settled around a campfire, eating smores, except now they were all ten years older.  Amy only two years away from graduating high school and the boysabout to start their adult lives.  Was he really ready for it like he had bragged about?  Did he want to admit that he’ll miss his twin? He snaps out of the reflection, looking around to see if anyone had noticed it, but everyone was still engrossed in their conversations.

He stands up, dusts off his pants and kisses his mother goodnight.  “Are you okay?” she asks.

“Just tired, think I’ll shower and head to bed.”

“Alright, good night sweetie.”

“Night mom.”

He knew from experience that the best thing to do was let his brother process whatever was bothering him in his own way, so Azurite pretended not to pay attention while Andi zoned out or even when he said he was tired.  But as he watched his twin trudge into the house, he had to wonder what it was about.  A smug tugging on his lips, could Andi be just as nervous as he was about the whole separation?  Now that would be an interesting flip.

Andesine tossed and turned.

“Noooo!!!” he screamed as he raced towards his brother on legs that suddenly seemed uncooperative, reaching out and stumbling along the asphalt. The scene blurred through a tunneled vision while the sounds of screeching tires echoed in his ears.  But no matter how fast he ran, the distance remained the same.  

His brother’s head turns seconds before the impact, a tear trailing down one cheek, “I’m… sorry Andi…”

“Azzziiiiiii!!!!!”

Andesine pops up in his bed screaming out of the dream and frantically looking at the other side of the bedroom for Azurites bed.  “What the fuck?”  Because there was no bed, only an empty space where it should be.  He throws off the blankets and hops off his, wildly circling the barren floorboards.  “What the hell is going on!  Where is Azurite?!”

The door swings open and his parents rush in, “Andi, what’s wrong,” Erza asks, “what are you yelling about?”  As Jellal grabs his son’s shoulders to stop his hysterical flailing, “did you have a bad dream?”

“Where’s my brother Azurite?  Why is his bed gone?”  The poor young man is on the verge of tears.

“Azurite?” Erza questions, looking to her husband with concern, “but honey, you don’t have a brother.”

“What!!  Of course, I do, he’s my identical twin!”

“Son, you need to calm down,” prompting the young man towards his bed and sitting him down, “there’s only you and your sister, remember?”

“No, this doesn’t make any sense,” Andi shakes his head, “it felt so real, He felt so real!  W-we were so close, we could feel each other, read each other’s thoughts, I—I…” cradling his head in his hands, “but our…”

“Sweetheart it was just a dream,” Erza kneels in front of him, “we promise you, you’ve never had a brother…”

“No!” he pushes them away and scrambles to get out of the room. This was all wrong!  Why were they lying to him?  There was no way he’d just make up a brother!  Andi bolts down the hallway, stumbling a few times in an effort to reach the front door while the walls seemed to sway and fold inwards on him. He had to get out there now!

As he turns the knob and flings the front door open, a blinding light stops him in his tracks.

His eyes snap open and he sits up in bed.  ‘What the…’ turning, Andesine looks to his left and notices his brother still asleep in their darkened room.  He checks the alarm clock, 3:30am, it was all just a nightmare?  With a groan, he drops on to his back, ‘it was all just a friggen nightmare!’

The following morning, Andesine is still a bit unnerved from the dream.  It was the first time he’s ever had one so disturbing involving his brother and he couldn’t fathom what it was supposed to mean.  Was it a premonition that his brother would die from a car accident?  He’d never had one of those before, or more than likely a subconscious reaction to the whole idea of separation and distance.  No matter what it all meant, if he didn’t get a handle on these emotions, the rest of this trip would be a miserable one.

Andi finds his parents in the kitchen cleaning up after breakfast, “Is it okay if I take a hike to the bluffs?”

“I don’t see why not,” Jellal puts another dish in the rack before turning to address his son, “is Azurite going with you?”

“Nah, I kinda wanted to go alone.”

Erza frowns, “That’s not really safe honey…” but when he gives her a sad, puppy expression she sighs, “just make sure you take your phone with you.”

“Thanks mom!” he hugs her then his dad and takes off out the door with a small back pack of water and of course his cell phone.  

He waves at his sister and brother who were lounging on patio chairs and heads north of their rental towards the trail leading up to a mountain peak he enjoyed.  Andi takes a deep breath, ‘Im’ma sort out whatever the hell it is that’s bugging me!’ pumping a fist into the air with a grin, ‘It’s time to go zen!’

The trail itself was moderately rated, mostly because of the final leg up a steep incline to the bluff, but it was completely worth the effort.  Twenty-five minutes later, as he broke through the tree line and made his way up the final ascent, Andi knew he had made the right decision to come here. There were a few fluffy white clouds passing by and the heat was mildly tolerable due to the higher elevation. The ground was thankfully dry since it hadn’t rained for at least a couple of weeks and the bugs seemed to be taking a day off, so he finds a flat-topped rock and sits down ready to get this load off his mind.

Why was all of this bothering him so much now when it hadn’t even crossed his mind before this trip? Sure, he had realized that picking a college thousands of miles across the country would probably make his parents sad, but it never donned on him that it would upset his brother, or himself. They would be in different states not different countries and thanks to today’s technology, distance wasn’t such a burden anymore.  Andi had friends all over the world on social media, and he was excited to finally meet a few of them when he got to California.  Besides, it’s not like he was the only one, Azurite chose a college away from their home state, granted it was because of the scholarship, but still, it was a choice that he made.

Andi closes his eyes and tilts his head back knowing he was skirting around the real issue that none of this had to do with a normal leaving the nest syndrome.  He exhales, both brothers were quite ready and capable to venture out on their own because their parents had done a phenomenal job of making sure they would be.  No, this all came down to their twin connection.  Will it feel weird when they are so far apart from each other?  Will there be some strange feeling like a part of him was missing?  It was this uneasiness that was at the heart of it all.  

‘I’m sure we’ll be fine,’ he finally concludes, ‘nothing to worry about.  I bet we’ll be too busy with college and everything to even worry.’ He was sure that he’d simply let his subconscious and imagination run a little too amok this time and it was time to reign it back in.  

“Yosh!” he stands up, stretching out in a full, arms above his head motion, twisting his midsection and legs.  “Bout time for lunch anyways!”

In a better mood now, Andi slings his backpack over one shoulder, shoves in his earbuds and cranks up his music, starting the trek down the steep zig-zag trail of loose stones and dry pine needle covered dirt.  Dense foliage made a few portions along the path harder to make out and unfortunately one of those spots was a narrow, stepped ledge, carved by the elements into a natural staircase.  Andi slowed down because he knew going down was the most dangerous part.  

Suddenly, the flapping of wings and a stirring of feathers from a startled pheasant takes Andi by surprise just as he is about to set foot on the next step.  The bird scuttles off into the forest, its squawking mixing with his scream as he slips, hands flying up, bag along with his legs going airborne like in a slow-motion scene.  His brother’s name is the last thought in his mind as his back hits the ground and head bounces-off the stony surface knocking him out cold…

Down at the lake, the family is relaxing near the water’s edge with Amy and Erza sunbathing on the shore. Azurite and Jellal dangle their legs off the short pier fishing for dinner while discussing last minute things the young man needs to secure before he leaves for college.  All in all, a relaxing sight despite the glaring midday sun. But just as Azi casts his line again, a cold breeze sweeps through, normally welcomed on such a heated day, but for him, the chill it shoots up his spine catches him off-guard and if he didn’t know better, his name had been funneled along with the wind.  

The fishing pole he holds clatters to the ground as Azurite shoots to his feet, “Something’s wrong with Andi!”

Jellal looks up bewildered, but knows not to question it, “we’d better go then!”

The two men race up the forest trail while Amy and Erza wait at the house ready to call emergency if necessary.  They had no idea what they would encounter but if Azurite was right, and Andi was too injured to have used his cell phone to call for help, they needed to be on standby. Azurite tore up the path like a man both panicked yet guided straight to where he just knew his brother would be and his father simply following, trusting his son’s instincts.  It took them 15 agonizing minutes to reach the spot.

“Andi!”  Azurite clambers up the steep grade, crawling the last couple of feet to where his brother lay prone.  Panic sweeps over his whole being, “Aw, Fuck dad there’s blood coming from his head!  Andi!” he’s about to reach out and pull his brother up but Jellal grabs his shoulder.

“Don’t move him yet, we don’t know how badly injured he is.  Check his pulse and breathing while I call your mom… and see if you can wake him up but gently.”

With his father on the phone telling their mother to call 911 and giving them directions to where they were, Azurite is using every ounce of willpower he has not to cradle his brother’s limp body in his arms.  He couldn’t believe this was happening, Andi was usually so careful whenever he went hiking but as he scans the area and notices a few stray feathers and his brothers bag lying above and off to the side, he could surmise what had happened in those last seconds.  But all that didn’t matter, whether or not Andi had been spooked or simply slipped, what was important was getting him medical attention as quickly as possible.

Azurite pats his brother’s cheek, “Andi wake up!  Please,” tapping it a few more times, “wake up Andi!”  Moisture pools and clouds his vision, tears leaking down his face in salty rivers.  “Damn it, Andi wake up!”

After ending his call, Jellal slowly lifts his sons head to check the injury and see’s that despite the blood, the wound doesn’t look very deep.  He pulls off his shirt, folds it, and tucks it under to cushion Andi’s head. “Emergency services are on their way so, all we can do is wait.  I’m going to head back down to meet them at the beginning of the trail, will you be alright here?”  The young man manages a short nod.  Jellal puts his hand on Azi’s shoulder, “It’s going to be okay son,” and with a second half nod, the man starts his descent.

Left alone, Azurite retrieves his brother’s bag, so it didn’t get left behind, sitting back down and checking his brother’s vitals every couple of minutes.  It was so frustrating not being able to do anything more, but his dad and their Eagle Scout training were clear on this, Andi was best left for the professionals to handle.  He hangs his head and while his tears had slowed, they were still like droplets of rain along a window pane, dribbling down in irregular waves.

“I swear you really are an idiot Andi, you know how dangerous it is to hike alone!  I don’t know what it was that was bothering you, but it better be a damn good reason for scaring me half to death!  Do you know how it feels, every time you do these foolish things and I have to worry about you…”  Azi lets out a long exhale, “But maybe you’ll get it now?  I hope you’ll see why I was so worried about the distance, I mean if something happened to you and we’re miles apart, I can’t come running like I did today.”  He lays down on his side next to his brother, just like they would as little kids when they were scared during a storm and takes hold of his brother’s hand, so limp and lifeless, bringing it to his chest.  “It feels like… like a sinking weight on my heart…”

“Could you be…” Andi’s voice is groggy and muffled, “anymore… melodramatic…”  He squeezes Azi’s hand back, “I ain’t dead yet.”

“I ought’a knock you back out for that!” Azi half snorts half laughs, for as frustrated with his brother as he was, it felt amazing to hear Andi’s voice again.

“I love you too bro,” he finally opens his eyes, half lidded because of the pain.  “And to answer your question, I do know how it feels.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had the most screwed up dream last night, that’s why I came out here to think…  I dreamt that I suddenly woke up and you weren’t there, mom and dad told me I had dreamt you up.  It hurt so bad like something had been ripped out of me…”  Azi looks up when he hears the sounds of footsteps approaching but is drawn back as he brother keeps talking.  “I do worry too but today I realized that it’s going to be okay.”  He squeezes his brother’s hand again and closes his eyes, grimacing through the pain, “we’ll always be brothers, and even if we’re far apart nothing will ever change the bonds we share.”  

“Just promise me you won’t do anything crazy out in California, because if I have to fly there, I really will kick your ass.”

Andi tries to chuckle but gives up when another wave of throbbing pain rushes over him, “you could try...”  

On the final night of the family vacation, Amy and their parents lounged on the porch playing a board game while the two brothers settled on a log beside the lake shore. Andesine’s head was still wrapped with gauze to protect the stitches he received, and Azurite was teasing him. “Remember,” Azi turns his gaze over to the lake, “When a full moon casts its luminous glow beckoning to any fools that dared to breach its darkened waters…”

“… a creature may arise to strike you down, or maybe a beautiful goddess will appear to grant you your desires.  Forgive me but I don’t think I qualify as a goddess.”

“You’re right, you’re more like a creature from the abyss.”

A companionable silence falls between them, each lost momentarily as the placid nighttime waters soothes their psyches.  Azurite exhales and holds up his arm in a 90-degree position, Andesine sighs, grabs his brother’s hand, squeezing and nodding his head for their zero degrees of separation.  This trip had been long and fruitful and now they were finally ready to move into the next phase of their lives, together.

[thirst-refinery]

Happy New Year {Triplet Ben x Reader} Pt. One

A/N~ As the title says Happy New Year everyone! In this last year alone this blog has come so far and it’s all thanks to you guys and I cant thank yall enough. I love each one of you! This is just part one of what I’m calling a Cinderella-esque au. I worked hard on this and would have quit after the first three paragraphs it wasn’t for Fae, so I gotta thank her for putting up with me and being the true MVP. I hope you guys enjoy this and once again, happy new year!

You didn’t want to be here in the first place and now; tucked away in a nook between the fireplace and nearest corner with a folding chair, you REALLY didn’t want to be here.

“I’ll stay with you all night,” Poe had promised. “We'll drink and eat our weight in expensive cheese, it’ll be fun!”

But five minutes through the door and Poe may as well have been the name of your imaginary friend.

Party goers draped themselves over couches and armchairs, positioned towards the flat screen mounted on the wall. Some you knew, most you didn’t. Half full champagne flutes and plastic plates adorned with cracker crumbs and nibbled cheese litter the coffee table, that someone’s child had conveniently fallen asleep under. The sheer volume of people contained in one house made the air uncomfortably hot and stuffy, the only provision of relief is the opening of the front door, allowing cold air to escape through, and the Pumpkin Spice candle glowing on the mantelpiece you could catch a whiff of every now and then.

Who even has time, or the money for that matter, to throw a party like this?

As if in response you find three portraits of identical boys, hanging over the sofa. Except for one maybe, the far left portrait shows a boy with blonde hair and glasses, but his face looks all the same as the others. Each one is perfectly posed and picturesque, looking like deities up there watching over their domain.

Yes, the Solo’s; they’re the only ones capable of pulling off a new year party for the entire city.

Digging the toe of your shoe into the living room's pristine white carpet, you listen to the background bustle of the party. The TV broadcasts Time’s Square, a girl’s shrill birdlike laugh, conversations about weather and new years resolutions, a glass breaks somewhere in the kitchen. Each sound piles on top of one another until a buzz becomes a suffocating roar in your ears. Maybe you should just leave.

“Well don’t you look like you’re having so much fun.”

A woman’s voice catches your attention. She’s short, greying hair tied up in an elegant braid that curls into a bun at the back of her head. She’s covered head to toe in party glitter and holds a glass between her slender wrinkled hands.

“I was actually just leaving,” you say standing from your seat.

A frown appears on the women's thin lips, “And leave all this?” she opens her arms to the party behind her, but you only shrug.

“Parties have never really been my thing. Besides, I don’t really know anyone here.”

“You sound like my son,” she pauses, tucking a stray hair behind her ear and looking past you in thought. “How about I introduce you to someone?” she finally says. “MATT, HONEY!”

The woman turns away, shouting over the noise before you could even protest. Curious eyes all over the room train on you and you found yourself suddenly wishing the floor would open and swallow you whole.

A young man appears from the kitchen with blonde curly hair and sporting glasses you’d expect to find in your grandfather’s drawer.

“My boy Matty will take good care of you, he’s a sweetheart.”

As Matt approaches his face becomes familiar and you can feel the watchful stares of the three smiling portraits.

Shit--

You’d come face to face with the party hostess herself and you hadn’t even known it. Not only that but she’d probably caught you digging your feet into her nice carpet; the upkeep for that cant be cheap. A quick glance down and you thank God you hadn’t left a mark on the white fibers.

“Matt, this is--” Leia trails off, you take it as your que.

“Y/N.”

Holding out his hand, Matt offers you a warm smile as you take it. “I’m Matt,” he says squeezing your hand hand gently rather than shaking it like you’d expected. “Nice to meet you.”

You nod, nearly forgetting your manners before stuttering out, “N-nice to meet you too.”

“Okay then,” Leia says retreating back through the living room towards the kitchen, her glass now empty. “You two have fun now!”

If you’d thought the portraits were intimidating, it was nothing in comparison to actually being in the presence of one of them. Solo is a name on everyone’s lips; with Leia Organa~Solo in congress and her husband as a renowned racing coach, who didn’t know of the Solo’s?

“So--nice party.”

Matt nods happily, sunny curls bouncing with the action. “Mom throws a party for every occasion! Oh, do you mind?” he holds up a camera hanging around his neck, “taking pictures is my job for the night.”

“Um,” you fluff out your hair, angling your best side forward. “I-uh. I guess.”

He smiles again at your display, finding you in the camera lense and adjusting it to focus.

Click

Matt looks at the digital screen and turns it around so you can see too, “Perfect.” he smiles again, something he seemed unable to stop doing. Had you not felt so intimidated you may have found Matt to be rather charming.

You’re suddenly interrupted by someone of similar stature and appearance, save for his dark hair that was barely long enough to hang in his eyes, and curled around his ears.

“Who’s this Matty?” his tone is almost teasing as he ruffles Matt’s perfectly groomed hair.

Another Solo, surely.

Matt doges out of his brother’s reach, patting his hair back down before responding. “This is Y/N.”

“Y/N?” he gives you a once over. “I’m Ben.”

Ben.

“Hi.”

Whereas Matt exude a gentle, meek kind of aura, Ben radiated confidence; like he was hot shit, and he knew it. His smile was like that of a movie star, flashing his teeth accompanied with a look that says he only smiles like that for you. Of course you knew that to be bullshit, he had to be giving everyone that same treatment; it’s part of his charm. This did nothing for your nerves.

Ben hadn’t taken his eyes off you nor had he said anything more; staring you down as if he expected you to do something, like a trick monkey.

“Do you want a drink?” he asks, tearing his gaze away from you to look around the living room.

Half of you wanted Matt to intervene in some way but he’d disappeared, probably to fix his hair.

“Okay.”

“Follow me, kid.” he says, sauntering through the maze of bodies and furniture like he owned the place, granted he did.

After fetching you a drink from the kitchen in his mother’s finest champagne glass, Ben lead you from group to group coagulating around his home. Gina, Debbie, Laura, Jessica, and something that started with a L; all from a sorority a few blocks away. Dan, Myra, and someone that was definitely a sasquatch; Family members of his mother’s colleagues. Group after group, Ben introduced you to people whose names you'd probably wouldn’t remember, and each time he filled your glass with more of that bubbling, silvery liquid you became a little more sure of that.

As it got later and Ben ran out of people to dangle you in front of, you found yourself on the Solo’s balcony overlooking their backyard. Below you the pool was covered for the winter season, a lonely looking set of chairs surrounding a table with a light blanket of snow over each one. Dead shrubs line the fence surrounding their yard and you can't help but to imagine what kind of parties they host down there when the weather is warm.

“You know, I’m never going to remember all those people.” you say, kicking back the remnants of your last drink, your head spinning as you set the glass down on a table behind you.

Ben shrugs as he leans over the railing, resting his forearms on the deck’s wood fencing. “Yeah, me either.”

“I don’t even like parties,” you started, “they’re so loud, and busy, and- and I wouldn’t have even come if it wasn’t for my dumb friend, but he ditched me and then your mom found me, and somehow I ended up with you.”

Ben tilted his head looking at you from the corner of his eyes as you rambled on and on, but he didn’t seem to mind; he was a little tipsy himself.

“And then we met all those people,and-um- I don't really remember what happened after that,  but now i'm here but you know something Ben?” you didn’t give him time to answer, “I had a really good time.”

He turns to you now, still leaning on the rail; more for support than anything else, his words lazily spilling from his lips. “You know what, kid? I did too.”

His statement made you warm inside, or was that just the liquor? You couldn’t tell anymore, you couldn’t tell anything anymore.How long have you been here? Where did Poe go? How are you getting home?

Wait a minute.

You looked over at him, “Did you just call me kid?”

He laughs, rolling his shoulders with a shrug, “I've been calling you kid all night.”

“You have?”

He pauses, “I think so.”

Leaning back against the railing, you let the cool air attempt to clear your head. Now you remember, he’s definitely been calling you kid. Like right before he’d told you to hold his glass so he could invite his much more athletic cousin to a handstand challenge.

“Shit.” Ben hisses under his breath, pushing himself up to his full height and adjusting his cotton blue t shirt.

Your first instinct is to look over the balcony, thinking he’s dropped something. “What?”

“It’s almost midnight.”

“So?” It was just a time, and here he had your drunken mind panicking.

“So,” he says looking back to the house in urgency. “I haven’t found anyone to kiss. You know, New Years and shit?”

“Oh,” your shoulders fell, relaxing back onto the rail. “Can’t relate.”

He looks surprised, perking at your words. “You’ve never kissed anyone on New Years?”

“No, why would I?”

“Because it’s- it’s tradition, like good luck or something,” he waves his hands around, grasping for the true meaning but comes up empty. “I’ve been doing it for years, find a girl, kiss her and never talk to her again.”

The thought is appalling. Why kiss someone you’ll never talk to again, it sounds almost sad and as he says it, his typically cheery self loses its luster; a certain kind of sadness is hidden behind his brown eyes.

“Well,” You check the time, 11:58; it was running out. “You can kiss me.”

Ben turns on you, maybe a little to fast because his tall frame sways twice before stabling out. “What?”

“You can kiss me,” You say again. “You won't find someone in time, especially as drunk as you are.”

You take his hand as he starts to sway again, and he doesn’t pull away. Instead he looks down at your joined hands, linking your fingers together before making up his mind. “Okay.”

From deep in the house you faintly hear the cheers of people as the ball drop began on tv. Ben stepped closer, hearing it too.

5

His free hand found the side of your face, cupping your cheek as you shuddered against touch.

4

Your eyes looked up to his when you felt his thumb brush your cheekbone. His eyes held admiration as they traveled your face, but maybe you were just being hopeful.

3

Taking this moment to memorize him, you noted each little freckle and mole decorating his skin, the way his haircut handsomely framed his face; that was probably intentional by design.

2

“Are you ready?” he says quietly, breath smelling sweet like the champagne you’d been drinking all night.

He licked his lips, you nodded doing the same.

1

That’s it. Ben presses his lips to yours, and you expect him to pull away just as quickly but he doesn’t, and suddenly it's not a simple New Years kiss anymore it’s something more. You can feel it. Fingers thread into his hair as he pulls you in closer, you whimper into the softness of his mouth. The dizzy feeling you'd had earlier was nothing like the spinning your head was doing now as you dived deeper and deeper into each other.

A firework explodes in the distance and Ben pulls away, you absentmindedly chase after him immediately missing the contact, but he’s too tall.

With cheeks tinted pink, and a little breathless, he speaks. “Happy New Year.”

[daleisgreat]

2016-17 TV Season Recap, Part 1

Previous TV Season Recaps – (2013-14 | 2014-15 | 2015-16) 2016-17 TV Season Recap, Part 2 (Luke Cage, Iron Fist, Legion, Riverdale) 2016-17 TV Season Recap, Part 3 (24: Legacy, South Park, Horace & Pete, Stranger Things)

It is time for my annual TV season recap blog. Check out the links above to previous seasons in case you missed them. Like last year I wound up keeping up with a few too many TV shows so I will split this up into a few parts and link them above. For part one, I am going to focus on the four TV shows I followed based on DC Comics properties. Gotham - If you thought last season of Gotham was off-the-rails, then be prepared for a whole new level of craziness for season three. I do not know where to start. How about with my only real qualm being, like in actual comics is that no one stays dead. Thanks to the science experiments of Hugo Strange (BD Wong), he keeps finding ways to bring back past fallen villains of the show, for better or worse. Yup, the writers found another way to bring back Fish Mooney (Jada Smith) for a few more episodes this season, and she is just as dreadful to endure as past seasons. We do have a few new villains join the fray this season, and if you grew up with the classic animated Batman TV show you will be delighted to see Mad Hatter (Benedict Samuel), Poison Ivy (Maggie Geha) and Mr. Freeze (Nathan Darrow) join the mix of the ever-growing list of Gotham antagonists. The big foil this season is a blood virus that Mad Hatter unleashes upon the city of Gotham that turns people into blood-lusting lunatics. It affects a number of major and minor players on the show this season and watching them succumb/overcome the disease lead to some compelling television.

Other favorite parts of this season for me are the constant love/hate/love relationship between Penguin (Robin Taylor) and Riddler (Corey Smith). Both wind up playing the political field this season before declaring war on each other to amusing results. Another constant dynamic I enjoyed playing out through the season was Barb (Erin Richards) getting more twisted each episode as she bosses around Tabitha (Jessica Lucas) and Butch (Drew Powell) to do her bidding to middling results. Once again, Ben McKenzie and Donal Logue nail the roles of the two primary detectives Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock. Bullock is now the head of Gotham PD and Gordon starts out as a private detective hauling in baddies on his own terms. His season arc is unbelievable if I lay it all out for you now so you just have to tune in to see it. Finally, David Mazouz is really coming into his own this season as Bruce Wayne. He spends most of the season feuding with the underground Gotham society, the Court of Owls. I loved that comic arc from a few years ago and really dug Gotham’s take on that faction. There is so much more that happened this season and other major characters I have not even touched on yet. It does get to be a bit much to keep track of, but last season I just said “screw it” and rolled with whatever Gotham threw in my face and let the recaps starting off each episode serve as a much-needed refresher. I very much enjoyed this season, and my only takeaways are Fish Mooney and a couple other minor villains that did not hit the mark of the many they introduced this season. Also, if you were following week-to-week like me then it got to be a bit difficult to keep tabs on everything since Gotham took two extended midseason breaks this season and I had trouble recalling if certain events transpired in specific seasons. Grade: A

The Flash - This is difficult to admit, but The Flash lost its way for its third season. Last season introduced Wally West (Keiynan Lonsdale) into the mix, and he just never clicked with the rest of the Star Labs crew. The writers of The Flash took this criticism to heart and doubled down on Wally this season by having him mope around the first several episodes about not having superpowers like the rest of the team. Then he finally gets powers and redubs himself Kid Flash and instantly becomes annoyingly arrogant. He is scripted to be as gut-wrenching as Spider-Man was in the disastrous Amazing Spider-Man 2 from a few years back. Wally West sir, you hereby are the runaway winner for my ‘dopiest character’ of all of TV this past year. The third season of The Flash also doubles down into exploring the 52 Earths of the DC-Multiverse. If you do no recall from my recap from last season, there are 52 Earths/alternate realities where each one has its own version of Team Flash members. It seems now the writers are getting into a new comfort zone where if they need to write off a certain character they will bring in a new multi-verse doppelganger to take their place. Each season has had a different version of Harrison Wells (Tom Cavanagh), with season three’s being a very lighthearted, coffee addicted version who calls himself ‘HR.’ HR is a fun addition to the team, but by the end of season three there were so many different multi-verse versions of each character introduced that it got to be groan-inducing whenever they time jumped to a new multi-verse.

The primary villain for season three is the mysterious Savitar. An early season episode shows a flash-forward of Barry’s love of his life, Iris West (Candice Patton) meeting her demise at the hands of Savitar so Barry (Grant Gustin) and the rest of Team Flash spend the bulk of the season trying to prevent that from happening. How they get there and what they wind up doing to try and save Iris is an interesting journey, but it has severe consequences that wound up being a big turnoff and does not have me anticipating season four whatsoever since the ending (light spoilers ahead) essentially implies that the cringe-worthy Kid Flash will be taking over as the new protagonist. There are still a fair amount of decent episodes this season (the annual Christmas party is a feel-good scene that delivers again this season), but I could not help but shake this season as a real letdown. Grade: C Arrow - This is a big redemption season of Arrow after a couple of good, but not great seasons. Oliver Queen (Stephen Amell) starts the season as the new mayor of Star City and he still somehow manages to moonlight as The Green Arrow in his downtime. With season four leaving the old Team Arrow in disarray, Oliver recruits several new vigilantes to take under his wing for season five. This reminded me of the not-so-desirable new recruits Gordon was in charge of in season two of Gotham as most of these new characters just did not cut it and they become early cannon fodder for season five’s primary antagonist, Prometheus (Josh Segarra). There was one likeable new recruit though that stayed on board the entire season with the codename Wild Dog (Rick Gonzalez), and I dug his story arc as he wound up teaming with Quentin Lance (Paul Blackthorne) for most of the season and the two meshed well together so much that I was always glued to my device whenever the two were onscreen.

Prometheus proves to be one of the major villains that Ollie has ever encountered as the two have several impactful moments throughout the season. They manage to outdo themselves in their final confrontation in a pivotal showdown between the two that had me in goosebumps throughout. Fans that follow Arrow every year know that each episode has flashbacks that lay out what happen each year that Oliver was away for the five years before returning to town in Arrow’s first episode. For the fifth year of Arrow flashbacks Ollie is in Russia teaming up with the Russian gang known as Bratva and his antics there all tie in to how he winds up back at Star City at the very beginning of Arrow. The final flashback scene is another powerful moment that combined with Green Arrow and Prometheus’s final showdown as one of the best season finales in the history of a TV superhero show and capped off one of the best seasons of Arrow yet. Grade: A Legends of Tomorrow - The show featuring the castoffs from Arrow and Flash returns for a slightly more streamlined second season. Instead of focusing on a huge superhero roster of 10, they slimmed the team down to seven Legends this season due to how the first season wrapped up. The season starts off with team captain, Rip Hunter (Arthur Darvill) lost in time and Sarah Lance (Caity Lotz) taking over the captain’s chair to lead the Legends to track Rip down.

Season two has a new team of former Flash and Arrow villains dubbed the Legion of Doom (Whaaaaaaaat a rush!) consisting of Eobard Thawne (Matt Letscher), Damien Darhk (Neal McDonough) and Malcolm Merlyn (John Barrowman). I was a fan of these guys before, so seeing them team up and intentionally ham up the evil villain factor made them the perfect foils for the lighthearted Legends. This was a much improved season that stayed on point better, did not feature love triangle plots that overstayed their welcome and a better group of antagonists. The Civil War zombies episode I imagine will be a hit with a certain audience. Even though they improved a lot this season I would still state Legends of Tomorrow is not a top tier superhero show, as even with a slimmed down roster, there was still a lot to keep track of, and new Legend member Steel (Nick Zano) is a little too cheesy and requires a high tolerance level. Grade: B Past TV/Web Series Blogs 2013-14 TV Season Recap 2014-15 TV Season Recap 2015-16 TV Season Recap Adventures of Briscoe County Jr: The Complete Series Angry Videogame Nerd Volumes 7-9 Mortal Kombat: Legacy - Season 1 OJ: Made in America: 30 for 30 RedvsBlue - Seasons 1-13 Roseanne – Seasons 1-9 Seinfeld Final Season Superheroes: A Never-Ending Battle Superheroes: Pioneers of Television

[swipestream]

4 Funky Fungi to Liven Up Your Game (And A Few Ways To Use Them)—Part 1 of 2

This is as pretty as mushrooms get. Fair warning: it’s all a horror show from here on out. Image Courtesy of Pixabay.com

Beneath the soil they wait, oozing digestive juices to liquefy and absorb any edible material hapless enough to fall in their path. Silently, patiently, they spread hidden tendrils thinner than a hair under the ground, linking threads to form an invisible net below the feet of the hapless humanoids lumbering above them. Relentlessly, they burrow through the ground. Growing, consuming, they bide their time over months, years, centuries, even millennia until the time arrives that they burst through the ground, hurling copies of themselves into the air and preparing to begin the cycle once more.

Sure, this is a workable description of any number of ancient evils in fantasy gaming, but it’s also a pretty solid way of talking about the fungi you probably have in the patch of ground nearest to you right now. What we think of as “mushrooms” are really only formed by a small fraction of fungal species;

…in fact, the “mushrooms” that we see are just the mechanism by which fungi spread. This means that Toad from Super Mario Brothers, myconids from D&D, and any other mushroom creatures you can think of are just ambulatory reproductive organs, and the Smurfs village is basically a scene from a Saw movie.

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in fact, the “mushrooms” that we see are just the mechanism by which fungi spread. This means that Toad from Super Mario Brothers, myconids from D&D, and any other mushroom creatures you can think of are just ambulatory reproductive organs, and the Smurfs village is basically a scene from a Saw movie.

The majority of the “body” of a fungus is its mycelium (yes, like the network in Star Trek), which grows out in all directions, seeking food and forming a network within the soil. This underground network exists in nearly all areas with vegetative life, and in addition to decomposing materials that would otherwise pile up, it is used by plants as a kind of external digestive system, forming a symbiotic relationship whereby plants can gather food and nutrients that they can’t reach with their own root systems. There is even evidence that this network of fungi is also used in a form analogous to communication between plants, forming what is sometimes called (and I could not possibly be more delighted to tell you this) a “wood-wide web”.

Until around 1960, fungi were considered to be plants — which makes sense; they grow from something that looks like seeds, and they don’t move on their own. However, later science determined that they were much more closely related to animals, just completely immobile and without any sort of muscle tissue — which really makes me wonder whether I might technically be a fungus. They store energy as glycogen (like animals) rather than starch (like plants), and their cells are given rigidity not by plant-based materials like cellulose but instead by chitin, the same material that makes up the exoskeletons of insects like cockroaches. Yum!

Fungi can be medicinal or poisonous or delicious (or sometimes a combination of any two of those things), and the difference between a good dinner and an early grave is sometimes a matter of how they’re prepared. Indigestible or poisonous mushrooms can be rendered edible (or at least less harmful) by any number of techniques. I’m not going to go into more detail than that because a) this is the Internet, and no one should try to do this kind of thing based on the advice of an RPG blog, and b) even if that were a good idea, I’m the absolute last person who should be giving that kind of instruction. With that in mind…

Warning: mushrooms can kill you.

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Warning: mushrooms can kill you, just like they were rumored to have killed the Roman emperor Claudius, the Holy Roman Emperor Charles VI, Pope Clement VII, and the composer Johann Schobert. And that’s just some of the famous people. About seven people per year die of mushroom poisoning in the U.S, and hundreds more are made seriously ill. Even though there are pictures in this article, and for the most part I tried to find reasonable approximations of what the fungi in question looked like, this is not an identification guide. I can’t even match my socks in the morning, and I can barely avoid killing my family when I cook for them even when I don’t use potentially poisonous ingredients — do not take anything I say as adequate reason to put these things in your mouth.

However, describing such things is not only safe, but extremely cool. And with that in mind, I present to you 8 Funky Fungi To Liven Up Your Game (And A Few Ways To Use Them).

Mind-Controlling Ant Fungus (ophiocordyceps unilateralis)

Strangely, the animated “Antz” movie left this scene on the cutting room floor. Is that reference dated? I feel like that reference is dated now. Oh, well. Look it up.

By itself, there’s nothing especially new or interesting about a fungal infection. If you’re alive, which I assume most of you reading this are, you are already host to a dizzying array of fungi, yeasts, and other creatures that call you home. They’re like roommates (good or bad). They do their thing to varying degrees of intrusiveness and stink. You also do your thing, and if you’re too incompatible, one or the other of you gets evicted. Cordyceps is more like that friend who visits from out of town and suddenly surprise! They’re moving to your city and need a place to stay. First they start eating all the food out of your fridge, then they start making demands, and before you know it, they’re trying to hollow you out and turn your body into a nutrient paste they can use for reproduction. Which is not, in fact, something that everyone does, Harold.

This particular species of Cordyceps infects carpenter ants, and then even while eating them alive, hijacks the nervous and muscular system of the ant, forcing it to travel to an appropriate piece of plant cover, climb to the ideal elevation for reproduction, clamp on to the grass with their mandibles, and then die. The fungus continues to spread within the ant, before eventually sprouting out of the long-dead husk and throwing its spores to the wind, beginning the cycle all over again. Some scientists think that the ants may be cognitively unaffected during all of this, and that the mechanism is actually a little less like mind control, and a little more like being controlled like an agonized marionette from within. Nature is amazing.

Potential Game Use:

A prodigal son from a local farming community finally returned, but the day after his tearful homecoming, he wandered into the woods and disappeared, only to be found again a week later dead, hollowed out, and filled with a mysterious powdery substance that creates a powerful feeling of well-being when inhaled, even accidentally. The heroes have been called in to investigate the case, as local law enforcement has no idea what is going on.

At first, all signs point to a horrible drug deal gone bad, until the characters find several locals attempting (and maybe succeeding) in stealing the mysterious powder, claiming that they feel compelled to share with their friends and family. “Addicts” at first violently resist any attempts to prevent them from taking or spreading this powder, eventually becoming a kind of hive mind that exhales spores onto the PCs. If not helped, the entire village will die in agony, possibly spreading the infection to other nearby areas.

In such a story, there are plenty of opportunities for medical or nature rolls (to determine the nature of the illness or the drug), social rolls (to determine that individuals are being non-magically mind-controlled) and constitution-type rolls to avoid infection. Potential solutions include spells curing disease, exotic alchemical reagents, introducing another fungal or bacterial species to counteract the infection, and good old-fashioned fire (for games that tend to be a little darker in tone).

Candy Cap Mushrooms (lactarius rubidus)

Sure; when a mushroom hunter finds something on the ground that tastes like maple syrup, they’re “nature-loving” and “exploratory,” but when I do it I’m “too old to still be doing this kind of thing” and “need to put on pants.”

Edible mushrooms, by themselves, aren’t all that much to write home about (unless “home” has a mycologist, in which case you should definitely write home to make sure you’re eating the right ones). Edible mushrooms that make for a workable ice cream flavor start to get a little more interesting. Where lactarius rubidus gets really fun though, is after the initial consumption. When dried and then reconstituted, this mushroom tastes like maple syrup (because, it turns out, it produces the same chemical that is used to make maple syrup flavoring—now who’s being unnatural, Canada?). The real magic happens later, when the sweat and tears of people who eat the mushroom start to smell like maple syrup as well. It’s like someone with more imagination than impulse control stumbled across a wish-granting leprechaun and demanded a combination of dessert and cologne, and I’ll be darned if the little guy didn’t make it work.

Potential Game Use:

The characters are invited to a feast by a local fae noble. Because interactions with faeries in folklore and fiction are one part entertainment to three parts weaponized manners, eventually, a character is going to insult someone. To keep this adventure from feeling too “on the rails,” feel free to use a character loosely associated with the fae whom the PCs have insulted or irritated previously. For a little foreshadowing fun, include some sort of massively dangerous but largely mindless beast in a cage, leashed or otherwise bound near the tables as the characters eat. After the feast, the heroes are offered an especially delicate and exotic dessert mushroom, which is also given to the dangerous creature. The creature immediately tears into the dessert mushrooms with terrifying abandon: think “Cookie Monster” meets “Sharknado.” Because players aren’t dumb, they will almost certainly check the dessert to make sure it’s not poisonous, magically or otherwise trapped (which of course, it’s not), and/or wait to see what happens with the Hungry Hungry Horror. Offer the character some sort of minor benefit for eating the mushrooms — healing, one additional use of a power, or whatever form of play currency is used in your game (e.g. inspiration, conviction, XP). Keep track of what characters eat the mushroom and how many they eat.

Following the meal, the characters discover the delightful side effect of the mushroom — they smell exactly like the delicious dessert they just consumed thanks to their unrefined humanoid biology. Their fae hosts, of course, have more refined digestion. As the characters look on in horror, the fae lord at the head of the table lets the leash slip on their pet monster, who lunges at the nearest character while the nearby court of fae watches and applauds. This is a fairly straightforward mostly-combat encounter, but with a lot of potential fun in the form of set pieces for combat. Think flipped tables, improvised weapons, flying crockery, and lithe, mocking figures darting in and out to make things more “interesting.” This may also be an opportunity for more socially-oriented characters to use their charm to request assistance from particularly engaged onlookers.

Octopus Stinkhorn (clathrus archeri)

Apparently, they smell as good as they look.

To the right, you will see a picture of what I absolutely swear is not only a fungus, but the single grossest fungus I have ever read about (and that’s including a species coming up in the next article that grows exclusively on herbivore dung). The Octopus Stinkhorn begins its visible life as a slime-covered bolus of egg-like material with its forming tentacles barely visible. Eventually, the tentacles strain against their “egg” and burst outward, covered in a thick, black-brown goo that smells like rotting meat. The stench attracts nearby flies and other decomposers, which wander around on the surface of the tentacles, picking up spores that they drop elsewhere (basically pollination, as imagined by Clive Barker).

Potential Game Use:

Look. If you’re going to have something sprout up unexpectedly from the ground that looks like Cthulhu’s dust bunnies, you might as well lean all the way in. Something unclean has been here before. “Here” can be the site of some sort of horrible sacrifice, sacrilege, or slaughter, or it can just be a case of “wrong place at the wrong time.” As another straightforward combat encounter, it’s hard to beat a tentacled creature that can unpredictably reproduce from any spot on the ground, but the real challenge will come in the form of the creatures that are attracted to and defend the Supernatural Stinkhorn. Take this as an opportunity to drag out every gross monster you’ve ever wanted to use. Giant cockroaches? Go for it! Slime molds, gelatinous cubes, worms that walk? They’re all fair game, and they’re all making heart eyes at this festering mound of thrashing goop. Every successful strike results in everyone within 10 feet getting splashed with putrescence, triggering some sort of constitution-type roll to avoid either taking damage or losing the next round heaving breakfast onto the ground.

What’s more, who’s to say what characters who take damage from such an attack might not themselves be the source of the next infection?

Bioluminescent Fungi (~80 species)

Preeeeeeeety sure this is a Photoshop job, but you get the idea. Glowing mushrooms: They’re A Thing (TM).

I almost didn’t include bioluminescent fungi in this list. They’re such a cliche that it’s almost not worth it. But there are about 80 species of bioluminescent mushrooms, and that’s a pretty big chunk of the fungal kingdom to just leave out because everyone already knows about them. So, with that in mind, yes. Glowing mushrooms are real, and there are a bunch of them, and yes, they all look very, very cool. Do yourself a favor and do an image search of them sometime.

Potential Game Use:

Lighting is a sometimes-underutilized part of adventure and encounter design. I can’t count the number of modules and supplements I’ve read that treat lighting as sort of a throwaway — there’s almost always magical ambient lighting, or unexplained torches (which are, if you’re a sucker for verisimilitude, extremely unlikely), or sometimes no lighting  at all. Which makes sense on a certain level — much like encumbrance or precise weapon details, not everyone likes thinking about and tracking questions of visibility in exploration or combat. However, I propose that if you’re looking for a quick and easy way of making things interesting in an otherwise bog-standard dungeon or cave, start caring about lighting. Have unseen things chittering in dark corners, or drips just out of eyesight, or things darting out of view as soon as the characters get too near.

Another consideration: do your players have darkvision? Of course they do. If it’s a fantasy game, pretty much everyone has darkvision. Things without eyes have darkvision. A soup tureen has darkvision in some rulesets. You know who doesn’t have darkvision though? The large group of frightened prisoners the characters may have just freed. Alternately, some puzzles or clues may only become visible when viewed under the light of a specific species of mushroom, the identification and gathering of which can be an encounter all by itself. For an extra “wow” factor, consider making a homemade blacklight to represent the mushroom’s glow, and using lemon juice to write a hidden clue, message, or even whole puzzle.

In Conclusion:

Fungi are really, really neat and can add to just about any fantasy game, above or below-ground. They’re terrifying, dangerous, delicious, poisonous, useful and frustrating in equal measure, and if you let them, they can give your game a touch of alien whimsy that few other things in the real world can. If you’ve enjoyed this article, come back in a couple of weeks for Part 2, where I give four more kinds of fungi you might want to use in your game.

In the meantime, do you think you’ll be using more mushrooms in your games? Do you have a favorite fungus (or a suggestion for me to cover in the next piece)? Let me know in the comments!

Further Reading:

Six Bizarre Things about Fungi : A cool, quick little article about the weirdness of fungi, prominently featuring three of the species that made this list (h/t Luke: thanks for the heads up!).

Mycophilia: Revelations from the Weird World of Mushrooms by Eugenia Bone. There aren’t a lot of books on mycology out there that aren’t aimed at mushroom hunters, farmers, or people looking for psychedelics. While this is an engaging and entertaining overview in a field that isn’t exactly crowded, I can’t entirely recommend this book, as it contains some flip statements about several vulnerable populations that have little if anything to do with fungi, and that kind of soured the read a bit for me. Your mileage may vary.

The Magic of Mushrooms. A documentary available in the US on Netflix (as of the time of this article), this fairly short but fun film walks you through the basics of fungal biology, as well as introducing some of the ways fungi may well shape our future. Fun, quick, and relentlessly British, I can’t recommend it highly enough for someone who likes documentaries.

4 Funky Fungi to Liven Up Your Game (And A Few Ways To Use Them)—Part 1 of 2 published first on https://medium.com/@ReloadedPCGames

[fadingfartconnoisseur]

Innsbruck, Austria – Mountains, Memories and Modernity

As part of my #YearInAustria project, I set out on a city-hopping tour at the start of summer to uncover the urban hubs of Innsbruck, Salzburg and Graz. My aim is to show you how not all Austrian cities are the same and how they are easy accessible, so you can see different sides to the country even in a short time. Innsbruck was my first stop (and my second time visiting the city). Alongside social media using the hashtag, you can also keep up to date with all my adventures on the Austria Tourism website.

There’s no city quite like Innsbruck and its mountainous walls, for this is the very first thing you will notice upon arrival. The ‘Capital of the Alps’ – while being an urban basin filled with 800 years of history – is defined by the peaks and alpine forest slopes that hug it.

Explore Innsbruck: Start in the Historical Old Town

Literally picture perfect, you can’t go wrong with any angle of Innsbruck. Despite always wanting to look up, I first started to explore the urban grounds below before heading up to various elevated viewpoints for an alternative angle on the city layout.

It’s quite the entrance into Innsbruck’s Historical Old Town. I started at the Triumphal Arch that faces the mountainous backdrop of the city. It was built in 1765, commissioned by Empress Maria Theresa to commemorate the marriage of her son and now stands proudly on Maria-Theresien-Straße – the most navigable thoroughfare from which to enter the cobbled stoned streets and alleyways of late-Gothic architecture.

The Historical Old Town is tiny, but packed full of sights and traditional eateries (once you weave past all the souvenir stores). Here you can wander into the past by visiting the Hofburg Imperial Palace, Hofkirche Court Church, City Tower and the glimmering Golden Roof with 2,657 fire-gilded copper tiles (which makes it quite the star attraction).

Traditional Eats in Innsbruck

No trip to Tirol is complete without re-fueling with a local dish such as the Tiroler Gröstl (a potato and meat fry up, topped with an egg). The two best traditional establishments include Weisses Rössl, the oldest restaurant in the city that dates back to 1509 or Stiftskeller, which is set within an old monastery. For those craving strudel, see how long it takes you to choose one of the many sweet or savory options at the Strudel Café Kröll in the Old Town. It’s a rite of passage after all the historical wandering. I decided on chocolate and raspberry in a move away from my usual straight-apple choice.

Innsbruck is the Nature Haven and Cityscape in One

What’s unique to Innsbruck is that it is an accessible nature haven and cityscape all rolled into one, where cable cars to the city’s darling 2000m high Nordkette Mountain leave from the very heart of the city. In less than 20 minutes you can reach Austria’s biggest nature park, Karwendel and Europe’s highest (Alpine) Zoo alongside various viewing platforms.

The avant-garde design of the three main Nordkettenbahnen cable car stations combines Innsbruck nature trails with modern design without impacting on the visual elements of the landscape.

During both my visits to Innsbruck, I was always curiously drawn to the Inn River for a stroll, with its famous multi-coloured townhouse views and green spaces as a backdrop.

Modern Innsbruck and Trendy Downtown

Modern trends intertwined with the preserved old is the thing here. The Downtown area adjacent to the Historical City Centre is where you’ll find everything from the 360° (panoramic) bar or Trobaun for its huge selection of world craft beers on tap and the more swanky hangouts like Erlkönig. Swap old cafes for hipster coffee shops like Max Standard and Crema and try to score a table in the busy burrito joint, Machete, which is a local favourite. A city that’s home to 30,000 students and a lot of young professionals, it has a vibrancy that compliments that within its centuries old offerings.

A short distance in the opposite direction of the Old Town and the Nordkette range is the 50m high Bergisel Olympic Ski Jump Tower. It’s one of my favourite places to visit, both in keeping with the winter sport pastime Austria is known for and watching the ski jumpers, but also as a platform for one of the best views of Innsbruck.

On the short trek up to the entrance, I stopped at the Tirol Panorama Museum, where history is depicted with a modern approach via a giant 1,000 metre-squared panoramic painting.

And with a state theatre and an opera, 30 museums and art galleries, as well as a year-round timetable of festivals that take place in the old palace Historical Old Town grounds, Innsbruck is quite the pulsating modern town, considering its small size.

Things to Do in Innsbruck Outside of the City Centre

Outside of the centre of the city you have further options for a historical or modern fix. I’m not one for tourist buses but the ‘Sightseer’ bus was surprisingly interesting, passing through Innsbruck’s outer neighbourhoods and got me out to areas including to the hillside where you will find Ambras Castle. This Renaissance castle built by Archduke Ferdinand during the 16th century and home to the Chambers of Art and Curiosities and all manner of weird and wonderful collections he built up.

Many flock to the famed Swarovski Crystal Worlds, which ranks as one of Austria’s most visited attractions. Bling and excessive in parts, the brand shows off its sparkling craftsmanship via exhibitions, art installations and a crystal tree garden, upping the ante on the usual showroom model.

Innsbruck urban landscape was craved out right in front of a dominating mountain range, giving it a unique makeup that cannot be found or replicated anywhere else in Austria. Providing the best of the country’s great outdoors with a long history and trendy modernisation, you have it all in one place, without having to travel very far at all. 

Things to Know:

Innsbruck is well-connected by the ÖBB rail network. I travelled from Vienna to Innsbruck in 4-5 hours and then onto Salzburg – a journey that takes approximately 1 hour and 45 minutes.

I stayed at the funky Nala Hotel, the city’s only boutique and art design hotel that is less than five minutes walk to the Triumphal Arch and Maria-Theresien-Straße. Every room has its own unique design, which you can browse through on the hotel’s website. I stayed in ‘La Suite Pan on Rama’ and I’m keen to check more of them out!

The Innsbruck Card grants to access to all the city’s museums and art galleries and all forms of local transport, including the shuttle bus to Swarovski Crystal Worlds and all cable cars. It also includes discounts for listed activities and outlets. It costs:

24 hours: €39

48 hours: €48

72 hours: €55

50% discount for children (6-15 years)

For more information visit the Innsbruck Tourism Website. For further information about planning your trip around Austria visit the Austria Tourism website, where you can also keep up to date with all my adventures.

  The post Innsbruck, Austria – Mountains, Memories and Modernity appeared first on Borders Of Adventure.

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[mariacorley]

How to be Black

My original reason for self-publishing a novel was to allow my protagonists, Langston and Cecile, the light of day. I started with the notion that if only a handful of people read my book, my beloved creations would still have lived and breathed somewhere other than on my computer. Publishers who cater to people like me used to be called vanity presses; there's some truth to that. It didn't take long before I began to dream of a larger audience, watching YouTube videos and absorbing blog posts that purported to show indie authors how to achieve unimaginable success. One of the most important parts of the plan seemed to be reviews, and so, emboldened by three 5 star reviews from total strangers, I asked everyone I could who had read my book if they would mind posting their opinions about it on Amazon. Some did, but many didn't, so I took it to the next level, paying to join a database that allowed me to contact random people who had demonstrated an interest in writing and sharing reviews.

I sent out numerous requests, but so far only a couple of those people have followed through. One of them is the inspiration for this post. Dr. Jacques Coulardeau sent me his review—two pages so full of inaccuracies and negative extrapolation that I was shocked that he gave me 4 stars—on Martin Luther King Day, a coincidence that I find ironic. Examples of his misleading statements include his portrayal of Cecile as “one who makes love with any boy available that is rather good looking,” for whom “pre-marital intercourse is a basic principle,” even though she has sex with exactly two men in the book, the first a one night stand during which she loses her virginity, the second her eventual husband. Coulardeau then glosses over the character's considerable internal conflict between her religious background and her sexual relationship with the “love of her life” by saying, “She does not realize her contradiction.” Um...not true. When Langston and Cecile meet, the reviewer says that Cecile “of course gives herself as if it were a question of life or death,” even though their relationship unfolds long distance. He even rebuts his own statement by adding “Cecile in a way makes the relation kind of satirical, humorous, un-serious.” Dr. Coulardeau states that Langston's decision to open a West Indian restaurant is simply because the cuisine is trendy. Um...nope. He also mentions that Langston's friends-with-benefits relationship, while in college, with the daughter of his Italian boss is doomed because of her father's disapproval, implying that Langston and Marietta aren't both aware, from day one, that their contact is a dalliance, and failing to mention an even more intense disapproval from Langston's Jamaican grandmother. And so on.

I won't dispute every incorrect statement, but—call me Donald Trump—I can't leave his final conclusion about my protagonists alone: “They definitely tricked their life-treks and they ended lost in some kind of tasteless, heartless, mindless deculturated wasteland.” His evidence? The characters are neither black nor West Indian enough for him. They eat West Indian food, but they don't speak the way he thinks they should (he is apparently a linguist; I'm merely someone who grew up as a Canadian West Indian). Further evidence of lost cultural identity includes Langston's decision to cook a  jerked turkey with mango salsa at Thanksgiving. I forgot to mention that the expert on what West Indians are supposed to be is an elderly Jewish man, who also took time out to pass judgments on Cecile's Christian journey in ways that my devoutly Christian readers did not. Huh?

These days, it's rare that a white person is overtly paternalistic enough to publicly claim knowledge of who black people should be, which is pretty much the same thing as informing us of our proper “place.” For obvious reasons, these kinds of statements are not nearly so uncommon in the black community. For example, the inability to “code-switch” is seen by some melanated people as proof of being an oreo: black on the outside, white on the inside. What does that mean, though?

Being an immigrant changes things, whether your relocation is voluntary or involuntary. Isn't it both natural and human to exert and receive influence as a result? When Dr. Coulardeau rails against the evils of multiculturalism, I think he may mean that distinct ethnic groups shouldn't lose touch with their cultural heritage. I support this idea, however, what does that include and exclude? Am I allowed to like only a particular kind of music, or cook a particular kind of food? If I am allowed to like things that aren't native to my ethnic group, a concept that has become hopelessly tangled, in most cases, by intermarriage (and here I mean even Jamaicans marrying Nigerians), how much should we like those things? How often can we indulge in them? What if we understand some of our ancestral language or dialect, but aren't fluent? Do we all need to repatriate to a country of cultural origin? Can we live in the suburbs? Or should our entire lives become a kind of performance art?

Coulardeau noted that “Canada is the best representative of multiculturalism and New York (where Cecile attends Juilliard) is one of the most diverse melting pot or salad bowl in the world,” calling the references to the various cultures there “anecdotal.” First, Canada is a vast nation, and I can assure you that most of it isn't particularly multicultural, although Toronto, where Langston lives (in Little Jamaica!), certainly consists of distinct ethnic enclaves. My main focus in writing the book, however, had to do with issues of personal growth that people can confront regardless of their race. Nevertheless, one reviewer said, “The issue of race is an important sub-stratum of the story and adds to its depth.” Another take: “How refreshing to encounter complex people who deal with racism and nonetheless dream beyond the limits of what's realistic. Unlike a lot of prime time television, Letting Go's characters defy stereotypes and earn your trust as a reader.” This reviewer, who is an African American female activist, also said of Cecile, “She's confident in her blackness and even when she's down, she's not out.”

Enough self-defense. I am more drawn to people's internal lives, so people who are looking for detailed discussions of place may be disappointed; my references to setting have a tendency to be secondary. That said, my book is semi-autobiographical (SEMI!), and I certainly could have included more of my own experiences with race and culture, including the very self-conscious efforts made by me and my black friends to reject as much as possible that wasn't considered “black,” whether it was by claiming to hate most of the music on the radio in our overwhelmingly white town, or never wanting to say a white person was attractive, because black beauty was so undervalued that it seemed wrong to add to the problem by endorsing the prevailing notions, even slightly. Some of my other formative experiences with my culture included learning about slavery and segregation, both in America and the West Indies, being sent to classes in West Indian dance, joining the Junior Afro-Canadian society consisting of my siblings and friends (to mirror the Afro-Canadian society my parents had joined), annual visits to Bermuda with my mom, and learning Jamaican folk songs from my dad. I also felt especially proud of hall of fame quarterback Warren Moon and the similarly storied hockey goalie, Grant Fuhr. Then again, was it “black” to even be aware of hockey? Or was that, too, the result of losing touch with my roots? Was it breaking down a barrier or assimilation when Arthur Mitchell founded the Dance Theater of Harlem? And if ballet is okay for black people, should Misty Copeland have ended up in a predominantly white company?

To be fair, I suspect Dr. Coulardeau might have been okay with Cecile's focus on classical music if the book had followed up a conversation about the need to incorporate music by black composers into her repertoire— something I endorse and have put into practice—with concrete examples. I admit to dropping the ball on that one; I was more interested in her character's awakening as a self-confident woman, just as I was interested in Langston's need to confront the fears that kept him bound, but although the book is already 500 pages long, a few sentences here or there would have made my novel richer. Them again, why should any black person, real or imaginary, have to define him or herself by someone else's cultural standards, which are higher, in this regard, than the bar most white people need to reach? One answer is that everything about black people has been denigrated so much that we need to affirm our identity. The thing is, we're still human, which means we're not monolithic. Will black people ever earn the right to just be, in all of our complex variations and manifestations? Or should all books feature black protagonists who speak mainly the vernacular, ideally in the inner city, during slavery or the Civil Rights era? Will melanated people always have to earn their “black card,” even if they're fictional?

Coulardeau sarcastically refers to Langston “so black...that his first girl friend is a white woman.” I put that relationship in my book is because seeing a black man with a white woman still produces a twinge in my gut, even though I realize that the importance of race has been inflated by a history of hate. If I'm honest, I must confess that I have some litmus tests of black authenticity: Clarence Thomas doesn't pass, for example, because his Supreme Court rulings and other statements have shown what looks to me like evidence of self-hatred. Still, I don't think it's reasonable to assume that every black man who gets involved with a white woman has fallen for the false notion that their pale skin makes them the biggest trophy of all. I want black men and black women to heal the deep wounds inflicted by injustice, set down the resulting baggage, and truly embrace each other. Still, it is my firm belief that we can love ourselves without climbing into a box. At least, I hope so, because the opposite of multicultural is homogeneous. Even if it were possible to retreat behind impenetrable racial and cultural fences, is that advisable? Can't I be black and still cook a damned turkey? Especially in Canada, where Thanksgiving isn't connected to its ancestral sins against aboriginal people (which certainly exist), but rather the thought that having a day off to sit down with your family and express some gratitude sounded like a good idea?

People have mentioned finishing my book and wondering what the characters did after it ended. Despite everything I just said, if I do write a sequel, I may just go into more detail regarding culture, which is something I don't always analyze deeply unless affronted. So even though I find Coulardeau's  comments presumptuous, misleading, and at times completely inaccurate, they did make me think.