#(Sharp Objects for instance. like... how can you read the book and not see that. anyways)

[spacesheeeeeep]

I think you might find the mother-daughter sexual abuse angle in Black Swan of interest if you haven't already delved into that

yesss

I was really taken aback by their relationship when I first watched the film because the incestuous subtext was pretty blatant and I hadn't seen any discussion around it beforehand. The idea of the abusive mother is still pretty hard to register for certain people, so when you add sexual abuse into the mix, plus inflicted on another woman, it mostly disappears from analysis.

[katiestory]

2. Light, Vision, and Color

For your biologically accurate monster building information, here is part 2 of my notes on An Immense World by Ed Yong, drawing from chapters 2 and 3. This section has truly a massive amount of information and I did my best. Please note a lot of this is generalizations, so read the book if you want the good stuff.

Vision and Photoreceptors

What is it?

Photoreceptors signal a neuron when exposed to light photons. With enough receptors, complex structures like eyes that (when paired with the right brain) can create a mental representation of the surroundings. There are four levels of complexity:

A single photoreceptor that can sense the presence and absence of light

Photoreceptors with a shaded spot that allows for detecting the angle of light

Clusters of shaded photoreceptors that allow the brain to produce a blurry lo-fi image of its world

High resolution vision with lenses and other structures for perceiving sharp details, wide field of vision, color etc.

There are two common types of complex eyes; camera like eyes with one retina that gathers light, and compound eyes, which have many ommatidia that gather light information.

There are many components of “vision”:

Visual acuity. The amount of resolution and detail perceived.

Higher acuity is achieved by denser photoreceptors, but this also corresponds to weaker night vision.

Compound eyes have weak acuity.

Light Sensitivity. Is vision suited for bright light or nocturnal conditions?

Color. Multiple types of photoreceptors allow the brain to compare wavelengths of light and distinguish those differentiations as color.

Animals with high visual acuity (humans and raptors) and fish that see long distances underwater tend not to perceive UV light.

Animals that evolved from nocturnal ancestors perceive fewer colors

Field of View. Where does the animal have blind spots, if any? And what parts of the eye have the sharpest vision?

Refresh Rate. How quickly the brain can receive and perceive new information from the eyes; frame rate.

Night Vision Adaptations. Special features like “long exposure” vision to see in total darkness, or a tapetum structure to check twice for photons.

How is it used in nature?

Visual Acuity: to notice small details, like raptors hunting from the sky, other distance hunters, or primates hunting insects.

Light Sensitivity: with nocturnal vision animals can avoid competition with diurnal species. Night vision may correlate with a lack of color vision.

Color: Animals and their ecosystem may share a color palette that is tuned to their eyes. For instance, flowers are colored to appeal to the eyes of pollinators; plants that looks camouflaged may actually stand out brightly to the animals that eat it. Or species may look flashy and bright to attract mates, but the coloration appears in a spectrum that is invisible to their predator’s eyes. Many birds only appear sexual dimorphic through their tetrachromat eyes.

Monochromats – No color vision, just light/dark. Useful for identifying motion and recognizing shapes.

Dichromats – Compared to monochromacy, allows for the differentiation of objects in motion, and patterns of light moving through water.

Trichromats – Useful for herbivores that need to identify the ripeness of plants (distinguishing red and green).

Tetrachromats – Widespread; Able to perceive ultraviolet and all of its combinations

Field of View: Animals see in the directions most useful for them.

underwater it is useful to see up and down at the same time

or above and below water’s surface at once

panoramic vision

animals that live in flat landscapes may be able to a panorama of the entire horizontal at once (and have no need to see up)

in the sky it may be useful to see below but not ahead or above

primates only see the direction they face, but their overlapping fields of vision provide excellent depth perception

Refresh Rate: this typically correlates with size with smaller animals having a higher refresh rate, moving and perceiving the world around them more quickly that larger slower refresh rate animals. This is an advantage in reaction times and hunting abilities.

Who has it?

Photoreception is widespread since there is such an array of uses and complexity in nature. Regarding color:

Monochromats – Nocturnal species and those with simpler eyes.

Dichromats – Many formerly nocturnal mammals without the need for detailed color information.

Trichromats – Formerly nocturnal herbivores.

Tetrachromats – Insects, fish, birds, reptiles, dinosaurs, and many mammals.

What would it look like externally?

There is really no limit to the number and variety of eyes or photoreceptors, but animals tend to only have the equipment they need.

Simple light sensitive photoreceptor spots are not necessarily visible.

The eye may appear as an immovable lens, and may have a movable component behind the lens to aim the field of vision.

If the eyes are large relative to the skull (i.e. birds) the eyeballs may not be moveable.

If the eyes have a narrow field of vision (i.e. spiders) the animal may compensate with more eyes.

Though complex eyes may look outwardly similar they may have widely different features (color, field of vision, etc).

Compound eyes are typical in small insects and provide low acuity for their size.

The movability of the eye and field of vision affect the appearance or behavior of the animal. For instance a bird may look askance to see better; a heron may appear to be looking straight ahead, but their field of vision is so wide they can see their feet and scan the whole area without moving their eyes. It’s important to note that many species would not “face” the subject of interest to better see it, unless their eyes are located like a human’s.

What would it feel like?

Visual Acuity: Most animals have “blurrier” vision than humans and use a combination of other senses to populate their world with the kind of dense information we get with vision.

Color: Additional types of photoreceptor exponentially increases the number of colors perceived. With tetrachromacy colors are significantly more differentiated. White may be several colors.

Field of View: Animals can have panoramic vision, so they don’t have to turn their head to stay on the lookout for predators or prey. Some birds on the wing can see ahead and behind at the same time.

Refresh Rate: To a fly with a high refresh rate, humans move in slow motion. If a human moves slowly enough, they will appear completely stationary to the fly. Perception of time may feel very different.

[hamsterboos]

Met Him Last Night

I literally speed wrote this in an hour so I'm sorry if this is a mess lmaooo but hopefully this will be continued, we'll see :D If anyone wants to be tagged in upcoming updates to this, please let me know! Just be warned, this first chapter does have (not very specific) details of a panic attack!

Title is from Demi Lovato's Met Him Last Night

Word Count: 2181 Read on AO3 Rowaelin Month Masterlist

Day 17 of Rowaelin Month Prompt: Bodyguard AU

~~~~~

Aelin was just about ready to murder someone, and that someone would most definitely be her cousin.

“Aelin, I’m serious, you need protection.”

She growled as she slammed her palms down on the dining table, loudly, as she stood up. “And I’m serious when I say that I need sleep. This stupid bodyguard business can wait two days for me to hibernate.”

Aedion also stood up, mirroring her stance as he leaned in closer to her. “Your life is in literal danger, Aelin. I hope you understand what that means.”

“It was one instance!” she insisted, pushing herself away from the table and moving to the kitchen to put her empty dinner plate into the sink. She was so exhausted from all the travel she’d done in the last few days that all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep — dishes be damned.

“One instance of the guy mailing you pictures of you from the hotel and on the sidewalk,” he responded, moving beside her. He was following her on purpose to make sure she couldn’t escape him, and Aelin was pissed off that he knew her so well to do that. “He’s been sending you those weird as hell letters for years.”

“It’s not exactly a trade secret which hotels I stay in when I’m going on book tours, Aedion. You know that.”

“If you stopped posting Instagram pictures with the hotel in the background, then it would be more of a secret considering that you are a public figure now. Besides, it’s only going to get worse now that Crescent City season 1 press shoots start soon. Your face will be more famous than just in the book world, Aelin. People will see articles of the author behind the next biggest fantasy show on television. Things are already bad, and we shouldn’t let it get past that.”

“Okay, fine, but why can’t we talk about this later? My body clock thinks it’s the middle of the freaking night, and I haven’t slept in fifteen hours. Please get out of my face so I can sleep.”

“Aelin, if you don’t take this seriously, I’m going to do it for you.”

“Oh dear cousin, owner of a security company, please do. I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with it, especially now that I’m going to be much busier.”

“You’re so annoying,” he grumbled as he stalked towards the door.

“Love you too!” she called after him, finally, finally, heading towards her bedroom. Fleetfoot trotted after her happily, and Aelin snorted as her dog’s wet snout kept bumping into her bare calves. The dog was way too excited to see her after two long months away from home with Aelin travelling all over the world for the release of her latest book. It wasn’t like she could deny the fact that she had missed her dear, sweet dog so much as well, so when Aelin flopped down onto her soft bed for the first time in months, she let Fleetfoot join her.

Fleetfoot circled the same spot three times before curling up against Aelin, her tail slowly thumping against the mattress as Aelin got comfortable as well. The feeling of warmth from her dog and the happiness from being in her own bed after so long had Aelin falling asleep faster than she normally did, and she was just about entirely asleep when she barely heard the click of her front door opening.

Figuring it was Aedion, she just tried to drown out the sound, not having the willpower nor the strength to move. He could let himself out after taking whatever he had probably forgotten at her place, and Aelin would be happily dozing for the next several hours.

Until a crash broke the haze Aelin was in, and her eyes shot open. Heart pounding in her chest, she looked at Fleetfoot who was staring at the closed door with alarm as well.

Aelin was confused. Aedion was careful to not drop ceramic or glass objects within the house, knowing how much her mother would always be on the two of them growing up to be careful with such things, and it didn’t help that she was still half asleep. Nothing made sense to her.

Slowly getting out of bed, she winced as she stood up entirely, her feet aching after days of standing in heels. Aelin walked over to the bedroom door and creaked it open, and she scanned the immediate vicinity for Aedion, trying to see if he was anywhere near the living room or corridor. When she didn’t see him, she creeped out of her room, trying to be quiet but the sluggishness had already taken over body as she stumbled into the wall a few times. Fleetfoot was at her tail, but Aelin forced her to stay before turning the corner into the living room. If there was glass on the ground, she didn’t want it getting in her dog’s paws.

Once Aelin turned the corner, she immediately stopped, finding the scene in front of her unwelcome and incredibly jarring.

There was a man standing in her room, one that didn’t have the same blond hair she did, and the broken object was a picture frame, the shards of glass littered about on the ground as he gripped a photo of her and Fleetfoot.

Aelin swallowed slowly, the saliva getting stuck in her throat as her mouth went dry, as she realized that a man had broken into her home.

As quietly as she could, she placed a hand over her mouth, trying not to breathe too loudly as she quickly made her way back into her bedroom, herding Fleetfoot with her, and she locked the door to the bedroom. Wildly glancing around, she took the chair from her vanity and jammed it under the door knob so the door wouldn’t open.

“What do I do,” she whispered, scared of her mind as she sat down on her bed. She was shaking, that much was sure as Fleetfoot tried to lick her hands and face in an attempt to calm her down. How was Aelin supposed to calm down when there was someone in her house?

Realizing that Aedion must’ve not gotten far, she lunged for her phone on the bed and dialed Aedion’s number.

“Weren’t you supposed to be asleep?” was his greeting, but all she could get out at first was a shuddering gasp.

“Aedion,” she whispered.

“Aelin? Are you okay?” he asked, his voice immediately alert.

“There’s someone in my apartment.”

“What?!”

“Hurry, please,” she cried, trying to muffle her voice to make it seem that she wasn’t at home. She didn’t know if the man had known that she was in the apartment, but she didn’t want him to find out.

“Aelin, listen to me, you’ll be fine. I’m almost there. Are you still in your room?”

“I, uh, I’m in my bedroom with Fleetfoot. I went out when there was a crash, and then ran back to my room,” she managed to get out. “I locked the door and jammed a chair underneath.”

“Go into the bathroom and lock that door too,” he urged, and she got up to move to the bathroom. “If he manages to get your room door unlocked, then at least you have some more time. I’m almost there, but you need to call 911, too.”

“Aedion, I can’t—” Aelin gasped out, leaning against the bathroom counter after locking the door behind her and her dog. Her breaths were coming in faster, and there wasn’t anything she could do to control the way her eyesight was beginning to blur. “I can’t let him know I’m in here.”

“He won’t find out,” he urged.

“But Aedion,” she cried, “the plates in the sink. He’ll see them, and he’ll know I was home. He’ll know I’m here.” The pounding in her chest had gotten louder than what Aedion was saying, and all she could do was sob into her hands. She wasn’t safe anymore outside, but now she wasn’t safe in her own room.

“Aelin! Aelin, it’s okay, I’m here.”

The next thing Aelin heard were shouts and yells before it got all quiet. She clambered up to her feet, throwing the door to the bathroom open before trying to get the chair back out, but it wouldn’t budge. It was stuck, and her limbs weren’t cooperating. There wasn’t anything she could do, and she tugged at the chair with a cry.

“Come on,” she cried, tugging at it more before it finally came free, clattering to the ground. Unlocking the door, she took a few unsteady steps before Aedion came into view, the man lying on the ground unconscious. Aelin lost all control of her body, and she fell into Aedion’s arm as he ran for her, and that was the last thing she saw before blackness encompassed her.

~~~

When Aelin awoke several hours later, it was to the commotion coming from downstairs. At first, she blinked a few times, trying to readjust to where she was because it wasn’t the drab hotel room view she’d gotten accustomed to, and once her brain was awake enough to process that she was in Aedion and Lysandra’s spare bedroom, she got out of bed and padded over to the bathroom to brush her teeth and her hair. If she was going to show her face after a major panic attack that caused her to faint for a few minutes, she should at least look decent.

Fleetfoot was, thankfully, also with her in the room, and Aelin sat on the ground for a few minutes just to hug her dog before getting up and going to the living room.

As soon as she made her entrance, everyone went silent, the only sound was Fleetfoot’s paws as she went straight for Lysandra to nose at her for treats.

“Okay,” Aelin swallowed. “I get it. I need a bodyguard, but at least that guy was arrested,” she continued, hopefully. Aedion beckoned her to sit next to him, and it was then that she realized that besides her cousin and his wife, Elide was also there and a man that she’d never met before. He was striking, to say the least. Silver hair with a sharp jawline and beautifully green eyes. His short-sleeved shirt also showed off swirls of tattoo creeping up his bicep, and Aelin had to say that she was intrigued by who this man was.

“Look,” her cousin started, directing her attention back to him. His face showed concern, and she was suddenly worried that this entire ordeal might not be over. “That man wasn’t the same one who stalked you. He was just a burglar trying to score after noticing that no one had been going in or out of the apartment for a while. It just helped that the security guard downstairs is of no use, so he broke in.”

Aelin was having a hard time processing all this information being thrown at her. “So you’re telling me that it was just...unlucky?”

“I have been telling you to move,” he unhelpfully added, and she let him know exactly that.

“Anyway, we’ve come up with a solution,” Elide butt in. “Aelin, meet Rowan Whitethorn. He works in Aedion’s company. He was working for a different client for a few years, but they switched companies, so he’s now free to protect you.”

“Hey,” she greeted without any of her previous enthusiasm.

“Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Galanthynius,” Rowan responded, and she noticed the slight accent to his words.

“Doranelle?” she asked, and he nodded.

“I will be protecting you from now on, uh, in a close manner.”

Aelin slightly jerked in her spot at his shy demeanor over his words, and the way he said it caught her attention.

“What do you mean?” No one answered her at first, peaking her anxiety again. “Aedion?” she asked, looking to him for an explanation.

“Since it’s also not safe for you to be at home alone, we’re going to have Rowan pretend to be your boyfriend.”

~~~

Aelin stepped out of the car, hand placed in Rowan’s as he led her into the paparazzi filled lot that led to the building where the final press shoots and poster shoots would be taking place for her show. It was still absolutely insane that someone she had written was actually going to be a TV show for the whole world to see, but another absolutely insane thing was the fact that she was pressed up against Rowan’s hard body, trying to pretend to be absolutely in love with him.

“Who is this man?” she heard one of the journalists ask, and she wanted to say that she didn’t exactly know either considering she had just met him last night, but this was the perfect opportunity for the world to know that she had a boyfriend.

Technically.

Smiling, she pulled Rowan to a stop as she turned to the vague direction from where she heard the voice. “This is my boyfriend.”

[takahero]

some descriptions of Basta in Inkheart if you’re interested!! spoiler warning just to be on the safe side, in case u haven’t read it. and my unsolicited commentary here and there

“‘Naturally I recognised them at once. Capricorn had sent his best men. Even Basta was with them.’” — pg.99

“Rasping cat’s-tongue voice” pg.125

“(Basta’s face) was thin, sharply angular, with close-set eyes…Basta was not a tall man, and his shoulders were almost as narrow as a boy’s, but Meggie held her breath when he took a step towards her…He had an aura of fury about him, or something keen and biting—” pg.126

“Only Basta wore a snow-white shirt, just as Dustfinger had said, with a red flower in the buttonhole of his jacket, a red flower like a warning.” pg.131

“He caught her eye, and with a twisted smile kissed the blade of his knife.” — pg.173 (I JUST HAD TO ADD THIS)

“‘Oh, Basta can’t write,’ replied Capricorn calmly. ‘None of my men can either read or write. I’ve forbidden them to learn.’” — pg.176 (literacy rights for Basta 2k21)

“She could see the trepidation even on Basta’s face, although he was doing his best to hide it by assuming a particularly bored expression.” — pg.185

“‘Abduction!’ Basta savoured the word. ‘Sounds good to me. Really good.’” — pg.192 (ok but if u read it a certain way. unofficial evidence that basta would enjoy reading if he could LMAO)

“‘Where’s our luggage?’ she asked.

“Dustfinger looked at her with amusement. ‘I expect Basta’s divided it out among Capricorn’s maids. He likes to ingratiate himself with them.’” — pg.213 LMAOOOOOOO OH MY GOD

“Basta was still standing in the road. His face was sharply outlined when he lit a cigarette with a lighter.” — pg.215

“And he bent down to cut through the leather thong that Basta wore around his neck. It had a little bag tied with a red drawstring hanging from it.” — pg. 231

“‘Ah, Basta!’ Fenoglio smiled. Each of his separate wrinkles expressed self-satisfaction. ‘One of the best villains I ever thought up. A rabid dog, but not half as bad as my other dark hero, Capricorn. Basta would let his heart be torn out for Capricorn, but his master is a stranger to such loyalty.’” — pg.264

“‘You know, if you were to ask me which of those two I was prouder of, Basta or Capricorn, I couldn’t tell you! Even though some critics said they were just too nasty!’” — pg.265

“Basta emphasised the word, putting his foxy face so close to Meggie’s she could see herself reflected in his eyes.” — pg.301

“‘You’ll do no such thing!’ he spat at Flatnose, as the grey cat disappeared under the wardrobe. ‘Killing cats is unlucky. How often do I have to tell you?’” — pg.303 (friendly reminder that the last time he appeared, he kicked a dog in the ribs 😐)

“Basta was walking just behind her, and she heard him quietly cursing the rain.” — pg.304 (irrelevant but i kind of hc basta to like the rain, since it would dampen dustfinger’s showbiz LMAO)

“Basta’s eyes always narrowed when he smiled.” — pg.305

“‘You wear long sleeves,’ Fenoglio continued very slowly, as if giving Basta time to take in every single word, ‘because your master likes playing with fire. You burned both arms right up to the shoulders when you obeyed his orders and set fire to the house of a man who had dared to refuse his daughter to Capricorn. Ever since then, someone else has laid the fire, and you confine yourself to playing games with knives.’” — pg.308

“‘Oh, I know all about you, Basta,’ he said. ‘I know you’d give your life for Capricorn any day, and you’re always hungry for his praise. I know you were younger than Meggie when his men picked you up, and ever since you’ve loved him like a father. But shall I tell you something? Capricorn thinks you’re stupid, and despises you for it. He despises you all, his devoted black-clad sons, although it’s his own doing that you’re still so ignorant. And he wouldn’t hesitate to set the police on to any one of you if it was to his advantage. Are you quite clear about that?’” — pg.308 (FENOGLIO…..RUTHLESS)

“Basta winked at Meggie.” — pg.310 (wink 1)

“Every cruel deed with which he had ever credited Basta was probably going through his head. Basta relished the fear on his face for a few delicious minutes.” — pg.312

“Basta’s car had not been in the car park at all since they’d come here. It was unusual for it to be gone so long, because Basta didn’t like to be away from the village for any length of time.” — pg.318 basta is a homebody guys

“‘Save your tongue for later, scribbler!” Basta interrupted. ‘I don’t like whispering.’” — pg.324

“Almost all the women in the village kept away from Basta, but he didn’t keep away from them.” — pg.337

“‘Take him, for instance,’ he said, pointing to Basta. ‘I always knew he was a very unhappy boy before you picked him up. As it says in another very fine book, it’s terribly easy to persuade children that they are worthless. Basta was convinced of it. Not that you taught him any better, oh no! Why would you? But suddenly here was someone to whom he could devote himself, someone who told him what to do — he’d found a god, Capricorn, and if you treated him badly, well, who says that all gods are kindly? Most of them are stern and cruel, wouldn’t you agree? I didn’t write all this in the book. I knew it, that was enough.’” — pg.345 (this is really the part that made my stance toward basta change. like PHEW. that’s a lot to unpack)

“Basta was notorious for his silent tread.” — pg.363

“Basta’s breath smelled of mint, fresh and sharp. Apparently a girl he’d once wanted to kiss had told him he had bad breath. The girl had regretted it, but ever since then Basta chewed peppermint leaves from morning to night.” — pg.364

“He whistled softly through his teeth, then held the book close to Meggie’s face.”— pg.374 (i was rendered speechless)

“Basta’s lips quivered with annoyance, but he bit back his reply and, without a word, put his hand under the black cloth.” — pg.377 (ugh I loved this. like we know he worships capricorn like a dog, but earlier fenoglio flat out told him capricorn couldn’t care less about what happened to him. more than that, capricorn asked basta to bring meggie and fenoglio — prisoners — into his home. later dustfinger says that basta would’ve slept on the threshold of capricorn’s room if he could but none of the men sleep there. so with all of this fresh in his mind, you can imagine him feeling quite hurt and betrayed. UGH I wish he had a greater arc surrounding capricorn…like even if we saw a few hints that his loyalty was starting to show cracks…idk what his arc is in inkspell so maybe I’ll sit tight for that)

“He was in a hurry to get back to the light of day, away from the dead and their ghosts. His hand shook as he hung his lantern on a book and opened the grating over the first cell.” — pg.409

“Dustfinger was always surprised to find how easily you could scare the man with a few words.” — pg.409 LMAOOOOO

“‘That notion of burning us isn’t a very new idea, Basta, but then you were never fond of new ideas.’” — pg.422

“His teeth were almost as white as his shirt.” — pg.442

“Meggie saw from his face that everything in him felt revulsion, but he came closer and took the creature. He held the scaly body well away from him as it wound and twisted in the air.

“‘As you see, Basta doesn’t care for my snakes!’ said the Magpie, with a smile. ‘He never did, not that that means much. As far as I know Basta doesn’t like anything but his knife. He also believed that snakes bring bad luck, which of course is pure nonsense.’ Mortola handed Basta the second snake. Meggie saw the viper’s tiny poison fangs when it opened its mouth. For a moment, she almost felt sorry for Basta.” — pg.446

“‘Basta likes to use snakes to scare women who reject his advances. It didn’t work with Resa. How did it go exactly — didn’t she finally put the snake outside your door, Basta?’” — pg.446 (10/10 resa & snake well-deserved)

“Basta did not want neighbours. Indeed, he wanted no other company but Capricorn’s. Dustfinger knew Basta would have slept on the threshold of Capricorn’s room if he had been allowed to, but none of the men lived in the main house.” — pg.478

“Basta was probably the only man in Capricorn’s village who locked his front door.” — pg.480

“They said in the village that whenever Capricorn had a house set on fire Basta took away a brick or stone, even though he feared fire at other times, and clearly that story was true.” — pg.480

“(Everything in Basta’s house was scrubbed clean, as spotless as his snow-white shirt.)” — pg.481

“Once or twice, footsteps approached, but each time they passed by the house. What a good thing Basta had no friends.” — pg.482

“Basta was not in a good way. Whenever they looked at him they saw his hands clinging to the bars, knuckles white under his sun-tanned skin.” — pg.503 (BASTA’S SUNTANNED?!?!)

“Basta in particular was the object of enough scorn and derision for ten men, and from his failure to react at all one could only guess at the depths of his despair.” — pg.503

“For the fraction of a second life came back into Basta as his former lord and master stopped by the bars; he raised his head, his eyes pleading silently, like a dog begging for forgiveness…Basta only bowed his head and stared at the floor. Elinor thought he looked like an oyster with the flesh and life sucked out of it.” — pg.504 (i honestly still can’t wrap my head around his behaviour in this chap. i mean yes, the gladiator-style death sentence looming over his head can’t be understated. but i think for me it was how rapidly his spirits deteriorated from screaming for help in the cell to becoming a husk of a man before he even saw capricorn again? how?? was it all because of dustfinger spooking him so bad in the crypt?? 🤔🤔)

[firstfullmoon]

what are some quotes that are so visceral they feel like a gut punch to you?

“A man's heart is a wretched, wretched thing. It isn't like a mother's womb. It won't bleed. It won't stretch to make room for you.”

— Khaled Hosseini, A Thousand Splendid Suns

“At the trial of God, we will ask: why did you allow all this? And the answer will be an echo: why did you allow all this?”

— Ilya Kaminsky, “A City Like a Guillotine Shivers on Its Way to the Neck”

“I want someone to tell me what to wear in the morning. I want someone to tell me what to wear every morning. I want someone to tell me what to eat, what to like, what to hate, what to rage about, what to listen to, what band to like, what to buy tickets for, what to joke about, what not to joke about. I want someone to tell me what to believe in, who to vote for, and who to love, and how to tell them. I just think I want someone to tell me how to live my life, Father, because so far I think I’ve been getting it wrong.”

— Phoebe Waller-Bridge, from Fleabag

“Les femmes de notre famille, nous sommes engluées dans la colère J’ai été en colère contre ma mère Tout comme tu es en colère contre moi Et tout comme ma mère fut en colère contre sa mère Il faut casser le fil.”

(The women in our family are all stuck in anger I have been angry at my mother As you are angry with me And as my mother was angry at her mother The thread must be broken.)

— Wajdi Mouawad, Incendies

“I know what I want: an ugly, clean woman with large breasts, who tells me: what’s all this about making things up? I won’t have any dramas, come here immediately!—And she gives me a warm bath, dresses me in a white linen nightdress, braids my hair and puts me to bed, very cross, saying: well what do you want? you run wild, eating at odd times, you could get sick, stop making up tragedies, you think you’re such a big deal, drink this mug of hot broth. She lifts my head up with her hand, covers me with a big sheet, brushes a few strands of hair off my forehead, already white and fresh, and tells me before I fall asleep warmly: you’ll see how in no time your face is going to fill out, forget those harebrained ideas and be a good girl. Someone who takes me in like a humble dog, who opens the door for me, brushes me, feeds me, loves me severely like a dog, that’s all I want, like a dog, a child.”

“I can feel myself holding a child, thought Joana. Sleep, my child, sleep, I tell you. The child is warm and I am sad. But it is the sadness of happiness, this appeasement and sufficiency that leave the face placid, faraway. And when my child touches me he doesn’t rob me of my thoughts as others do. But later, when I give him milk with these fragile, beautiful breasts, my child will grow from my force and crush me with his life. He will distance himself from me and I will be the useless old mother. I won’t feel cheated. But defeated merely and I will say: I don’t know a thing, I am able to give birth to a child and I don’t know a thing. God will receive my humility and will say: I was able to give birth to the universe and I don’t know a thing.”

— Clarice Lispector, Near to the Wild Heart

“I know that my phrases are crude, I write them with too much love, and that love makes up for their faults, but too much love is bad for the work.”

“I’m restless and harsh and despairing. Although I do have love inside me. I just don’t know how to use love. Sometimes it tears at my flesh.”

“But when winter comes I give and give and give. The excess of me starts to hurt and when I’m excessive I have to give of myself.”

— Clarice Lispector, Água Viva

“And that was what I felt when reading your book: that solitude.” “Imagine the solitude of the person who wrote it.”

— Clarice Lispector, from an interview

“suppose the body did this to us, made us afraid of love—”

— Louise Glück, “Crater Lake”

“When I put my hands on your body, on your flesh, I feel the history of that body. Not just the beginning of its forming in that distant lake, but all the way beyond its ending. I feel the warmth and texture and simultaneously I see the flesh unwrap from the layers of fat and disappear. I see the fat disappear from the muscle. I see the muscle disappearing from around the organs and detaching itself from the bones. I see the organs gradually fade into transparency, leaving a gleaming skeleton, gleaming like ivory that slowly resolves until it becomes dust. I am consumed in the sense of your weight, the way your flesh occupies momentary space, the fullness of it beneath my palms. I am amazed at how perfectly your body fits to the curves of my hands. If I could attach our blood vessels so we could become each other I would. If I could attach our blood vessels in order to anchor you to the earth, to this present time, I would. If I could open up your body and slip inside your skin and look out your eyes and forever have my lips fused with yours, I would. It makes me weep to feel the history of your flesh beneath my hands in a time of so much loss. It makes me weep to feel the movement of your flesh beneath my palms as you twist and turn over to one side to create a series of gestures, to reach up around my neck, to draw me nearer. All these memories will be lost in time like tears in the rain.”

— David Wojnarowicz, from The Half-Life

“A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.”

— Gillian Flynn, Sharp Objects

“and cain said, There’s an idea I can’t get out of my head, What’s that, said abraham, There must have been innocent people in sodom and in the other cities that were burned, If so, the lord would have kept the promise he made to make to save their lives, What about the children, said cain, surely the children were innocent, Oh my god, murmured abraham and his voice was like a groan, Yes, your god perhaps, but not theirs.”

— José Saramago, Cain

“I’d like to jet-ski / straight out of this life because right now I am / way attached to real things like for instance / people how they are all so tender how they / love to just go walk around and someof them are / wearing pink now and it hurts me and they / bathe their dogs”

— Heather Christle, “This Is Not The Body I Asked For”

“The idea of deserving love. And then watching love being given to people who did nothing to deserve it.”

— Anaïs Nin, from her journal

“And he cries and cries, cries for everything he has been, for everything he might have been, for every old hurt, for every old happiness, cries for the shame and joy of finally getting to be a child, with all of a child’s whims and wants and insecurities, for the privilege of behaving badly and being forgiven, for the luxury of tendernesses, of fondnesses, of being served a meal and being made to eat it, for the ability, at last, at last, of believing a parent’s reassurances, of believing that to someone he is special despite all his mistakes and hatefulness, because of all his mistakes and hatefulness.”

— Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

“The veals are the children of cows, are calves. They are locked in boxes the size of themselves. A body-box, like a coffin, but alive, like a home. The children, the veal, they stand very still because tenderness depends of how little the world touches you. To stay tender, the weight of your life cannot lean on your bones.”

“Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you've been ruined.”

— Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

“I know we’ve just met but I feel like maybe / you’d feed me and tuck me into your big bed / and only touch me as you covered me with the comforter.”

— Kim Addonizio, “Party”

“The body has no thoughts. The body soaks up love like a paper towel

and is still dry.”

— Kim Addonizio, “Body And Soul”

“I don’t know how God can bear / seeing everything at once: the falling bodies, the monuments and burnings, / the lovers pacing the floors of how many locked hearts.”

— Kim Addonizio, “The Numbers”

“I keep wishing for you, keep shutting up my eyes and looking toward the sky, asking with all my might for you, and yet you do not come. I thought of you, until the world grew rounder than it sometimes is, and I broke several dishes.”

— Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Minnie Holland

“The unknowness of my needs frightens me. I do not know how huge they are, or how high they are, I only know that they are not being met.”

— Jeanette Winterson, Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit

“I used to be a hopeless romantic. I am still a hopeless romantic. I used to believe that love was the highest value. I still believe that love is the highest value. I don’t expect to be happy. I don’t imagine that I will find love, whatever that means, or that if I do find it, it will make me happy. I don’t think of love as the answer or the solution. I think of love as a force of nature - as strong as the sun, as necessary, as impersonal, as gigantic, as impossible, as scorching as it is warming, as drought-making as it is life-giving. And when it burns out, the planet dies.”

“As for myself, I am splintered by great waves. I am coloured glass from a church window long since shattered. I find pieces of myself everywhere, and I cut myself handling them.”

— Jeanette Winterson, Lighthousekeeping

“I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED GENOCIDE TO STOP I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED AFFIRMATIVE ACTION AND REACTION I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED MUSIC OUT THE WINDOWS I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED NOBODY THIRST AND NOBODY NOBODY COLD I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED I WANTED JUSTICE UNDER MY NOSE”

— June Jordan, “Intifada Incantation: Poem 38 for b.b.L.”

“Maybe when I wake up in the middle of the night I should go downstairs dump the refrigerator contents on the floor and stand there in the middle of the spilled milk and the wasted butter spread beneath my dirty feet writing poems writing poems maybe I just need to love myself myself and anyway I’m working on it”

— June Jordan, “Free Flight”

“It’s not that I gave away my keys. / The problem is nobody wants to steal me or my / house.”

— June Jordan, “Onesided Dialog”

“What reconciles me to my own death more than anything else is the image of a place: a place where your bones and mine are buried, thrown, uncovered, together. They are strewn there pell-mell. One of your ribs leans against my skull. A metacarpal of my left hand lies inside your pelvis. (Against my broken ribs your breast like a flower.) The hundred bones of our feet are scattered like gravel. It is strange that this image of our proximity, concerning as it does mere phosphate of calcium, should bestow a sense of peace. Yet it does. With you I can imagine a place where to be phosphate of calcium is enough.”

— John Berger, And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief As Photos

“I wept and wept. I had come to believe that if I really wanted something badly enough, the very act of my wanting it was an assurance that I would not get it.”

— Audre Lorde, from “Zami: A New Spelling of my Name”

“You kiss the back of my legs and I want to cry. / Only the sun has come this close, only the sun.”

— Shauna Barbosa, “GPS”

“It has to be perfect. It has to be irreproachable in every way. (...) To make up for it. To make up for the fact that it’s me.”

— Suzanne Rivecca

“I hope it’s love. I’m trying really hard to make it love. I said no more severity. I said it severely and slept through all my appointments. I clawed my way into the light but the light is just as scary. I’d rather quit. I’d rather be sad.”

— Richard Siken, Self-Portrait Against Red Wallpaper

“We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven, which brings us back to the hero's shoulders and the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.”

— Richard Siken, “Snow And Dirty Rain”

“Love, for you, / is larger than the usual romantic love. It's like a religion. It's / terrifying. No one / will ever want to sleep with you.”

— Richard Siken, “Litany In Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out”

“The hardest thing still remains. It remains the hardest, to bear all the tenderness and only to gaze on.”

— Ilse Achinger, “Mirrorstory”

“i killed a plant once because i gave it too much water. lord, i worry that love is violence.”

— José Olivarez, “Getting Ready to Say I Love You to My Dad, It Rains”

“Mother says there are locked rooms inside all women; kitchen of lust, bedroom of grief, bathroom of apathy. Sometimes the men - they come with keys, and sometimes, the men - they come with hammers.”

— Warsan Shire, “The House”

“I’ll take care of you. / It’s rotten work. / Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

— Euripides, Orestes, tr. Anne Carson

“We have this deep sadness between us and it spells so habitual I can’t tell it from love.”

— Anne Carson, The Beauty of the Husband

“There is no question I am someone starving. There is no question I am making this journey to find out what that appetite is.”

— Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays

“I wish I could peel all my sadness in one long strip off my skin & toss it in a bucket. No one would have to carry it. It would just sit there & be punished. It would just sit there & think about everything it’s done.”

— Chen Chen, “Elegy For My Sadness”

“There is too much or not enough room in my stomach for everything we will do to each other.“

— Adriana Cloud, “Bento Body”

[sophielovesbooks]

Mid Year Book Freakout Tag!

I’m a bit late to this party… but I wrote this a few days ago when I wasn’t feeling 100% after getting my second Covid vaccine and took the entire day off. So I finally had the time to write this :)

Let me pull up my Goodreads real quick and have a look at the 33 books I have so far this year.

1. The Best Book of the Year So Far

Hmm, let’s see. I feel like it’s fair to give two answers to this one, because on the one hand, there is the book that qualifies as “the best” from a literary perspective (at least in my opinion) and that would be CONVERSATIONS WITH FRIENDS by Sally Rooney. Definitely had its own style and felt… infused with a deeper meaning, at least to me. It was also very compelling. Personally, I couldn’t stop reading it. And I feel like it had a lot to say about modern-day relationships (romantic, platonic… all kinds really).

Then, there is the book that I personally enjoyed this most, and that was probably THE GIRLS ARE ALL SO NICE HERE by Laurie Elisabeth Flynn. It kind of felt like your standard thriller, but also not. While it was super suspenseful and fun to read, I also genuinely cared about the characters and loved the portrayal of toxic teen girls’ friendships and generally teenage cruelty in the context of wanting to be cool/to fit in. It made me reflect on a lot of things, so to me, it’s definitely more than a thriller that you forget right after reading it. And it also definitely qualifies as dark academia, and discovering a new DA book I love is always great! <3

2. Best Sequel of the Year So Far

Wow, I am NOT big on sequels. I have only read one this year, which is just further proof that I’m not very into book series and much prefer standalones. The only sequel I have read this year was also a very good one, though: MISTER IMPOSSIBLE by Maggie Stiefvater. Much anticipated by me and thankfully, I had a great time with it. :)

3. A New Release You Haven’t Read Yet But Want To

I’m going to go with MALIBU RISING by Taylor Jenkins Read! I was gifted this book by my boyfriend’s grandma for my birthday on June 29 (so sweet!) and I think I will read it next. I am very excited for this one!

4. Most Anticipated Release for Autumn/Winter

Two books I am VERY excited for are A LESSON IN VENGEANCE by Victoria Lee and IN MY DREAMS I HOLD A KNIFE by Ashley Winstead. I’m not even really sure why. I don’t know that much about either of them yet. But they just call to me, just like The Girls Are All So Nice Here did. And that one didn’t disappoint, so hopefully these two won’t either.

5. Your Biggest Disappointment of the Year So Far

Maybe THE GUEST LIST by Lucy Foley? I mean, it wasn’t awful. But I remember that I wasn’t impressed and had been expecting more somehow. Objectively the worst book I read this year would have to be THE SHARP EDGE OF A SNOWFLAKE by Sif Sigmarsdóttir, lol. But that one doesn’t count as the biggest disappointment, because I didn’t go in expecting that much. It was just an ebook that I bought for a low price at one point.

6. Your Biggest Surprise of the Year So Far

Definitely THE GIRLS I’VE BEEN by Tess Sharpe. I did not expect a YA thriller to be as intense and emotional and fun and just plain well-written as it was! Biggest positive surprise of the year so far, I think. :) I felt similarly surprised by  A GOOD GIRL’S GUIDE TO MURDER by Holly Jackson. Another YA thriller (or mystery, I guess?) that was so much better than I had expected! 

7. New Favourite Author

I’m going to have to say THE MOTHER by Tess Stimson. I was expecting it to be a semi-fun thriller without much depth to it, just easy entertainment, I suppose. I was extremely surprised by the emotional depth I encountered. The death at the heart of this story is that of an infant, but I was expecting the book to sort of gloss over how tragic that actually is. Instead, it leaned into the grief so much, I found myself absolutely shook? The book almost moved me to tears several times. The mystery was so intense, I kept guessing and guessing. At one point quite early on, I had the solution, but the author masterfully misdirected me from that again, so that the twist at the end came as the biggest shock! Yeah, I loved this so much more than I had ever expected! Well done, Tess Stimson!

8. Your Newest Favourite Character

I haven’t absolutely fallen in love with any new characters this year, but three that stand out to me (in the order I encountered them this year) are:

1) Pippa Fitz-Amobi from A GOOD GIRL’S GUIDE TO MURDER by Holly Jackson

2) Katrina Hawkins from THE STARLESS SEA by Erin Morgenstern

3) Nora O’Malley from THE GIRLS I’VE BEEN by Tess Sharpe

9. Your Newest Fictional Crush

Umm… absolutely nothing comes to mind lmfao. Fictional crushes have become so rare for me!

10. A Book that Has Made You Cry

THE MOTHER almost made me cry, I think. Not sure if there were actual tears. CONVERSATIONS WITH FRIENDS and NORMAL PEOPLE both (almost) moved me to tears several times. But I didn’t have any break-downs over books this year. At least not yet.

EDIT: Omg, omg, omg, I forgot A LITTLE LIFE! How the f did I forget about A LITTLE LIFE?! I broke down over this book several times. It was awful. Never before has a book made me suffer so much. I mean that. I didn’t just cry, the book also made me feel physically ill several times. Very well written, yes, but not one I can recommend in good conscience. This is not one of those instances of “You’ll cry, but you’ll love crying”, at least not for me. This is something I perhaps should have not put myself through. Because the experience overall was painful, first and foremost. Stay safe, kids. This one is… a lot.

11. A Book That Has Made You Happy

This is so sad to say, but none of the books I read this year gave me that warm, glowy feeling of pure comfort and happiness you get from books sometimes? Some passages of THE STARLESS SEA came the closest, I would say.

12. The Most Beautiful Book of the Year So Far

Again, I need to mention THE STARLESS SEA with the beautiful prose and imagery! <3 Also A LITTLE LIFE maybe? Beautifully written at times. Absolutely heart- and gut-wrenching at others.

13. Some Books You Need to Read Before 2021 Ends

Hahaha… so many. But I’ll pick out a few that I will likely finish until the year is over: MALIBU RISING, AN OCEAN OF MINUTES by Thea Lim (birthday present by a close friend! <3), THESE VIOLENT DELIGHTS by Micah Nemerever (birthday present my dad gave me! <3) and THEY NEVER LEARN by Layne Fargo (bday present my godmother gave me! <3). You see, I am much more committed to reading books that were given to me rather than books I bought myself. So these have good chances of being finished in 2021. :)

14. Tag Two of Your Favourite Community Members

@books-and-cookies Have you answered these questions yet? And @augustinianseptember? Would REALLY love to read both of your answers! <3<3

[sugar-petals]

Hey Caro ☺️ I just took your super m quiz - thanks for making such a fun quiz, I feel like it helped me get into super m! I know nothing about them yet but I thought it fit soo well that I got Kai bc I’m a full time dancer - now you have me super curious about him 👀👀

KAI :: INTRODUCTION MASTERPOST (dance focus)

so you wanna know about the god of k-pop choreo? oh yeah, i’ll talk to you about fucking kai! if you dance, this guy is the #1 must-know. once you see him move, there’s no going back. i don’t exaggerate: kai is the gold standard. brace yourselves, i’ll show you why.

kim kai aka kim jongin (27) is a solo artist and super m’s plus exo’s main dancer — est 2019 and 2012 respectively — heading either group with a passionate, hyper-physical style that roots in his early practice of of jazz dance and ballet. the influence definitely shows. 

learning choreography, he’s become the gorgeous fusion of emotional grace and explosive power that unites both tension and extreme accuracy. while at the same time: never sacrificing his interpretation. and HOW MUCH HE BLEEDS FOR HIS CRAFT. he enjoys it so much. 

and he’s communicating it 100%, jongin’s dance is so interactive and raw, luring. i swear to god, put the seatbelts on for this one. it’s never just him, it’s you as well. you’ve never seen this before. he’s like “yes, i meant you, i’m looking at you”:

he’s even gonna modify the choreography to point right at you to underline that very thought. he’s so good, he can learn it, ace it, epitomize it, and do his own thing anyway. even the person in the last row will get whatever point kai wants to make. this is dance that belongs on the biggest stages.

even when he films without a crowd, it’s like you’re literally standing opposite to him. he focuses on two people: his moves, and the viewer. he has it look like you made him smile and self-aware, or you made him determined. INCREDIBLE. he shows his charisma, BUT he also shows your own (!) impact on him. it’s a duet. he wants you to join him on the dancefloor. this is from exo’s call me baby mv where kai does his famous come-hither:

he flirts and he encourages. he values the audience and wants them to be confident as well. i think it’s the reason why he’s so outstanding and addictive, kai thinks beyond himself. it’s a tango he involves you in with his eyes and how he opens his body, interprets a lyric.

it’s not about imposing himself going one way. instead: he plays the back and forth ALL. THE. TIME. in any context. whether it be frivolous, or fun, or gloomy, or sweet. even with a simple little smiley wink it’s happening. and he acts like you had a reaction to it. there’s literally just a camera.

this guy’s physique, strength, elegance, feeling for the beat, character portrayal (!), and control is unbelievable. he’s destroyed it in every fancam out there. he can’t switch it off even if he tried. your eyes would go toward him in the largest group formation still. put him in the center, that’s his spot, he showcases it.

because he doesn’t just show learned moves, he makes it radiate something dynamic and animalistic (he embodies superm’s ‘tiger inside’ all the way). 

jongin’s dance says: i love this, you love this, let’s do this, the feeling is right. he makes bodies and unrestrained touch the opposite of wrong, he pronounces it a source of having fun and being instinctual. and he never breaks the tie with you throughout, and uses his shoulders and lips to put the oomph into it. 

he uses innuendo and a ‘we both know’ sentiment perfectly as an invitation rather than just going through his routine. that’s how he can make each move fascinating. you can tell kai knows exactly how to make everyone scream their lungs out. i bet somebody held their breath just reading this post already.

exo’s most famous choreo is ‘monster’ (kai focus linked) with good reason: jongin can turn himself into nothing short of a roaring beast. it’s one sharp, complex move after the other. kai can bend any gravitational law he wants to show any feeling and pose he wants. a glimpse:

now, how to spot him in general if you’re new to him? here are some pointers. kai’s execution is clean, fast, and powerful. those are two decades (!) of experience showing. kai is an all or nothing dancer, he plays no games. he treats every group and solo stage like his best and last. his work ethic is beyond words. yeah, he’s a capricorn. his style is direct as can be, working every axis.

as you can see, jongin is hard to overlook anyway: he’s a 182cm giant made of steel. he strives to acutely visualize impact in his style and it is always successful. in fact, it’s his signature. it’s like he creates invisible objects and pushes through them. boom, he just burst another bubble.

when the song gets to his part, i guarantee you won’t miss him and all the boldness and expression he brings to enrich the performance. hell... he carries it. jongin can handle the center, i’m telling you. (look how fast he rotates here)

talking features — this is what to look for when he dances in a group setting: you can recognize kai’s face by how wide, bluntly structured and sensual it is. jongin is a sight. he has such an aura, serious, sultry, and smiling alike.

with a very recognizable silhouette (like... holy hell!):

he’s very cute as well ♡ the fandom and kai himself have an adorable analogy going on. jongin calls himself a teddy/nini bear and we joined in on it. (i made a thread about it here, it talks more about his offstage life) — hence kai’s fans are called eri-gom, eris as in exo’s fanbase and gom meaning bear. 

and i mean. look at him. what an attractive guy. he’s that handsome. strong brows, teddy eyes, square jaw, swept hair, glorious lips, tan skin. 

now yes, something important concerning his appearance and a serious topic: i don’t want to list you the endless instances of colorism that kai has to endure but it has to be mentioned. jongin has been called every name in the book and people agonize him over his skin incessantly. it goes on and on and on. every day a new terrible comment about him emerges because some pitiful person thought it was funny and would elevate them. 

he’s had to deflect, ignore, reframe, defend, remotivate, assert, harden, prove, denounce, and push himself, protect his confidence, decline skin bleaching constantly, laugh along, dance and practice thrice as hard to get the respect, and still see his dignity torn to pieces all day. i’ll just give it to you straight, that’s all fucked up. kai’s skin is perfect, he’s amazing and wonderful. 

in his own words:

— exactly right. say it even louder.

having him at the bottom of every joke is weird and messed up. this man is an utter beauty and nothing has to be fixed. it is up to him to define himself rather than get called ugly for his skin’s appearance by default, and get whitewashed at every opportunity. it’s been going on for 27 years, he scrunitizes himself all the time and doesn’t look at himself fondly because he hears these beatdowns daily.

it’s heartbreaking that this happens literally with no end in sight (’kai is just a stripper!’... ‘he has bad vibes’... ‘darkest guy jongin!’). for his skin, and how he decides to show it, too. jesus christ his skin looks fantastic, end of debate. they just can’t handle him, kai couldn’t be any more immaculate.

♡

jongin has vigorously protected fans from discrimination, bullies, and shaming himself whenever it came up. in a very straightforward and deadpan manner because he knows exactly how it damages you. (”J” in the subtitles = jongin, he’s wearing the plain white top at the very back)

we need to protect and praise him that way right back. it’s important.

so, needless to say. all in for jongin getting the center stage he deserves. because he has the wow factor in every regard. kai usually opens an MV because there’s no better way to get people’s attention with that level of presence. with kai, you can’t go wrong. if you get the center in a an all star group like superm, you are the king.

being part of that presence, kai’s stage alter ego has reached levels of infamity you can’t even imagine. it’s great to see him being sovereign without apology.

and it doesn’t stop there. he shows time and again that acting, props, and commanding the audience has to be mastered to be an exceptional dancer. kai owns his sex appeal. sometimes, he even dances a portion of choreo with his eyes closed because he’s feeling it so much.

he is a pro in using his surroundings as well, superm’s stages are a glorious opportunity for kai to show how he comfortably ‘lives in’ the 3D space around him.

which makes the viewer do the same: watching kai makes you feel amazing, energized, but also serene and enjoying the moment. 

there’s always balance. it’s the magic of it. e.g. he comes along with so much impetus and decisiveness but eventually, he halts to offer himself. here i am — take me. i’m yours. closed arms, open arms. walking, kneeling. looking down, looking up.

kai goes every extra mile there ever was and makes each eye contact count. involving the audience, one grin at a time. it works. it’s about establishing contact. he connects to the onlooker with so much nuance. 

kai’s smirk is notorious and you can see why it’s so raw and real: he makes it linger. it’s such a duality since his dancing says i’ll come over, while his message is come and get me, i know what’s on your mind.

with a hilarious twist – kai expertly uses humor. you don’t get that in many dancer repertoires. i love it. all those quick expression changes. his smile! 😊 what a man.

so — what makes him so good and known: yes, his style doesn’t deny that dancing and eroticism are one in his business. that takes courage. kai has it. iconic performances have been his reward. point dance/killing part: exo’s love shot choreo. 

that suit has swept the nation. what’s more: kai shows you it’s more than just good hip movement that a good dancer needs. he does everything at once, he puts the pleasure on his face, all his limbs are following the template he chooses.

the thing is. kai couldn’t be any shyer, but when the music starts he becomes a oscar-winning madman. he emotes constantly (!) and stays in character. this is gold.

jongin always plays it up. he knows how to use that face and does a lot of power posing. this is how visceral looks like. he’s interpreted exo’s aggressive concepts to a T.

and he has so. much. fun. it propels him. on every beat.

past every hurt, heartbreak and injury, man. if you know about his genre you knew this was coming, kai does all of that with 4 herniated discs. since debut days, never recovered. every gif in this thread, he dances with a battered spine. wheelchairs, stage collapses, relapse-recovery-schedule tales, the dilemma of injuries being inevitable, limping, kai falling into depression during breaks, constant pain killers, countless tears on stage, we’ve seen it all, the extreme end of it. 

kai works out like hell to literally keep his body from falling apart. but it doesn’t help the nerves in his back that are impacted. doing choreo you can sometimes literally see the pain kicking in and he pulls himself through with force for the last minute. once you know how strained his back is, you can see it.

at the end his expression goes fuck now it’s coming when the adrenaline fades. he takes every second-pause he gets to rest but still finishes each move. even when he holds back, he keeps it together and executes each turn. sometimes, he has to restrict himself and soften his movements to protect his health (especially in hard choreographies such as lucky one which is universally disliked by exo — still jongin makes the very best of it smiling bright and dancing so hard his sleeves come off).

he frequently states he ‘dances in any case unless his legs are affected by something’. all torso injuries are fair game, this guy is hardcore. and people claim he’s just pretending. chen (a fellow exo member) says not a single part of jongin’s body is intact. he has paid every price to get this far to follow his love. he’ll step on stage with crutches. he works SO HARD.

that being said: exo being called the official nation’s group, i say kai is the nation’s dancer. period. he has had his great moment at the korean olympics flawlessly dancing in a hanbok with traditional instruments and fulfilling his dream. 

i love the tension and drama he can bring. he can also thrill with slow, vulnerable movements alike.

kai’s is called a legend, he’s all that and even more. the facial expressions alone are feared by any kai stan because they hit home. 

this guy is a sex icon and goes off like a gun, messing around was never kai’s incentive. 

while at the same time being incredibly nuanced and so, so descriptive with his movements.

point dance: baby don’t cry. yep, kai has danced in water. must-watch.

this man loves what he is doing. he said he wouldn’t regret to die on stage because dancing is his destiny. boy, it shows. this guy has found his purpose. he can tell any story he wants. he’s a complete artist.

he’s perfectly portraying his incentive and he couldn’t look any more like a god on earth.

long story short, kai is dance and motivation goals. if you dance professionally, you can easily look toward him for the right words.

if you want to further your study and knowledge: he released a self-titled solo album recently. highly recommended. he worked forever on it, and he’s really dishing it on there. you get to hear his soft voice plus sizzling footwork. and he isn’t even getting started yet. you’ll hear from kai, i promise. he constantly achieves new levels of artistic perfection.

a last remark. jongin is amazing for a myriad of reasons that go beyond what i show you here given the post focuses on his work on stage. but the point stands, while other people have tried to break him, he broke through every barricade instead and stood up for himself. we can be extremely happy to have him and witnessing his unreal dance is an exceptional pleasure. here’s to jongin continuing his passion and confidence, healing, and getting the sweeping respect and acknowledgement that is his.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Lucien’s R&S - Regarding what books don’t say (Eng Translation)

🍒This R&S (关于书上没说的事) was part of the Dream Heart Lake event which will unlikely come to EN!🍒

A character featured in @lucienism‘s translation of his 2020 birthday event is introduced here!

More Lucien R&S from this event:

> regarding what books don’t say ♡

> my love rival older brother

> the victim who disappeared

> since that rainy night

[ Chapter One ]

Everybody knows that there’s an especially intelligent child in the neighbourhood.

His parents are both high-ranking scientific researchers. Although husband and wife have always kept a low-profile, quite a lot of rumours involving their child still flowed into the streets - He knew over ten thousand words at the age of one, read “The Brief History of Time” at the age of three, and could already engage in scientific research with his parents at the age of five.

As for how much of it is true or false, the neighbours didn’t delve too deeply into it. They just needed “someone else’s child” as an example to enhance the persuasive effect when dealing with their own children. “Brat, could you stop making me worry! Just look at that little genius next door. He already knows how to read books obediently at the age of five!”

As time passed, the children developed a strong resistance towards this little genius who rarely showed himself.

Unlike what their parents hoped, they didn’t see him as a role model for studying. Instead, they chose the naive and cruel method to express their unhappiness which had accumulated over the years.

-

[ Chapter Two ]

To the children, “isolation” is an extreme punishment. However, this didn’t have much of an effect on the little genius. He has always holed himself up in the study room, immersing himself in scientific materials which even normal adults find cryptic and difficult to understand. After classes in the afternoon, he would occasionally hear the clamour of playing, and would close his book temporarily, laying on the window sill to take a look. 

He can easily explain how the human mind operates, but is unable to understand why the boys in the yard enjoy running after a ball. Each time he sees them running themselves into a sweat-drenched state and yet able to laugh heartily, he remains puzzled despite pondering over it for a long time.

Although he has considered directly asking the children in the yard for their reasons, he can detect the alienation in their eyes even from afar.

It’s as though they are magnets with the same poles. Even if he tried taking a step closer to them, they would naturally take a step further. This caused him to gradually feel that even though he was a human being like them, there were also some slight differences.

Since he couldn’t quell his bewilderment through a survey sample, he had no choice but to have a hands-on experience. As such, he, who rarely brings up wanting anything, asked his father for a small soccer ball.

Seeing his son take the initiative to ask for a toy for the first time, his father agreed immediately. He even completed his work on hand early, and specially took a half-day leave to accompany his son to play in the grass patch in the park.

In the midst of the pleasantly warm summer breeze, father and son have a few exchanges. However, aside from “hot” and “tired”, the boy didn’t obtain more helpful information.

He lifts up the strands of hair on his forehead, which have been drenched with sweat He trots over to his father’s side, tugging onto his sleeve.

“Dad, are you tired? Why don’t we go home?”

His father crouches down, taking out a handkerchief and wiping his son’s sweat, thinking he was saying he was tired because he typically lacks exercise.

“Mm? Are you tired? In that case, should we take a break before continuing?”

The boy shakes his head, returning the small soccer ball to his father.

“Dad, is this the wrong playing method? Why do other kids look especially happy when they play this?”

In response to his son’s dead serious question, his extremely knowledgeable father actually couldn’t find an answer.

Because of how busy work is at the research centre, he and his wife are mostly able to only meet their son’s material needs. Giving him necessary company completely exhausts their limited free time.

Those books don’t mention the things they don’t have time to teach him. The things that are crucial for “normal kids” have been neglected without realising it--

For instance, “friends”. For instance, “friendship”.

“The next time you want to play with the little soccer ball, you can bring it up to the kids in yard.”

“Mm.” The boy nods, not telling his father about the icy look in the eyes of the other kids. He holds his dad’s hand tightly, and they return to the yard.

-

[ Chapter Three ]

That brand new little soccer ball never appeared again since that day, and nobody knew where he hid it. Even so, every time after school ended, he would still gaze towards the clamour occasionally.

Sometimes, the little soccer ball belonging to the kids would fall into the courtyard of his home. But every time he returned the little soccer ball to them, the kids would turn around and run away without even a word of thanks.

The boy didn’t harbour much unhappiness towards the way the kids treated him, but didn’t expect that a “busybody” neighbour would seek justice on his behalf.

-

“Hey, you guys! You don’t know how to say ‘thank you’?!” A tall and towering neighbour appears before the kids, looking as though he’s about to chase them down. While calling him “Stupid Policeman”, they scatter.

With sharp eyes and agile movements, he grabs the kid who took the ball. Grabbing him by the collar, he brings the kid to the boy. “Okay. Where’s the ‘thank you’?”

The kid who was grabbed unwillingly says a ‘thank you’. The boy, face expressionless, responds with a “You’re welcome”.

Without sensing anything out of the ordinary, the man releases his hold the kid. Even without taking a few steps, he turns around to pull his face into a mocking scowl.

“Stupid Police Uncle, he’s scowling at you.” Upon hearing this, the man chases him once again. Seeing the kid fleeing in fear, the little genius actually feels like his pent-up feelings have been released.

After the kids run out of the yard, the man returns. He shouts after the boy who is just about to walk into the house. “Hey, Boy! You don’t have anyone to play with? Want to come over to my house to play?”

“No need. Thank you, Uncle.” With this straightforward response, the boy returns into the house. With a remark reminiscent of a human trafficker, he decides that he should not entangle himself too much with this adult. 

Ignoring the rejection, the man crosses the fence, stopping the closing door with his hands. “Brother is very good at playing games! Anything you want to play is fine. If you want to learn anything, I’ll teach you till you know it. I’ll keep you company!”

“Uncle, there’s really no need.” The boy hides behind the half-closed door. This is the first time he's met an adult who is so difficult to shake off.

“Come to think of it! You’ve been calling me ‘Uncle’ since just now!” He rubs his head in an exaggerated manner, the main point of his words digressing to strange places. “Do I look that old! Just call me “Brother”. Come, repeat after me. “Brother Zihang’.”

“... Brother Zihang.”

“That’s right, that’s it! Remember it!”

“Okay, Brother Zihang. I’ve remembered it, Brother Zihang. May I know if I could close the door now, Brother Zihang?”

"You won’t be able to grow tall if you keep holing yourself up at home!”

Hearing this, the boy finally wavers. He releases his hold on the door slightly. “In that case, we’ll just play one round of international chess.”

“Can’t you play something more suitable for kids?!” Despite what Fan Zihang says, he elatedly brings the boy towards his house next door.

-

[ Chapter Four ]

This is the first time the boy has been invited to someone else’s home. Although he wanted to pretend that it wasn’t something new, his wandering gaze had already betrayed him--

Although there’s a huge difference between the entranceway and decor of the living room as compared to his house, the overall getup is still similar. The most shocking thing to him is Fan Zihang’s room. It’s basically a disaster scene left behind after a dinosaur stepped on it.

Fan Zihang doesn’t seem to mind at all. With a normal expression, he steps through the piles of various objects on the floor, towards the side of the bed. Sticking his butt in the air, he searches underneath the bed. 

“First things first. Even if my opponent is a kid, I'm not going to give any chances. Also, if you’ve finished looking around, give me a hand in searching for it.”

The boy stands on his tiptoes, bypassing the scattered objects. With a face full of curiosity, he asks, “Do you really have a chess board here? Actually, I could head home to get it.”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’m certain it’s here!” Fan Zihang says in a completely unpersuasive manner. He searches the bottom of his bed, which appears to be a black hole. Seeing his persistence, the boy has no choice but to provide assistance from the side, helping him tidy up the pile of items which have been unearthed.

After a very long time, Fan Zihang finally finds the chess board. As excited as a child, he exclaims, “I’ve found it!”

His cry is accompanied by the sound of his head banging against the board of the bed. Covering his head, he crawls out from underneath the bed with the chess board. In the process of arranging the chess pieces, they discover that the black king chess piece has disappeared.

“I’ll go home and get mine.”

Just as the boy prepares to stand up, the not-like-an-adult-at-all neighbour stops him. He opens a box of small bear biscuits. Picking a whole one, he places it on the position where the black king is supposed to be. “With this, it’d be fine!”

This is probably the most abnormal chess piece the boy has ever seen. In less than ten minutes, he wins this game of “Small Bear International Chess”.

“Oh my goodness! You’re too strong! No wonder nobody wants to play with you!” Fan Zihang plops the “black king”, which the boy was about to checkmate, into his mouth. As though he’s taking revenge, he munches it with force.

“So why did Big Brother want to play with me?” The boy looks at the neighbour, who is propping his leg up without a care about his image. At the same time, he starts packing up the chess pieces.

He taps the boy’s temple, stuffing a small bear biscuit into his hand. “Because you looked too pitiful just now. When you were standing at the door earlier, you looked like you were about to cry.”

“I... I wasn’t...” His tone evidently weakens. Originally staring straight at the other party, he slowly averts his gaze. At a glance, it’s clear that he’s pretending to be courageous.

Fan Zihang didn’t expect that this kid, who appears so gentle and quiet, to have a pretty stubborn streak. He can’t help but be mischievous. He leans in front of the boy. “If you play another round with me, I won’t tell others that you were about to cry!”

“I already said that I wasn’t crying!”

Although that’s what the boy argues, he has been goaded successfully. He takes out a small bear biscuit and places it on the black king’s position, the calm little adult image completely tossed to the back of his mind.

“Very good, very good. You’ve got a fighting spirit. This time, I won’t show any mercy either.” Seeing that the boy has regained his vigour, Fan Zihang feels gratified, patting his head.

“You’re obviously very weak.”

The boy takes the lead with a white chess piece, ridiculing him unreservedly.

“This is an average standard, okay! You’re obviously the one who’s too strong! Kids like you would have been brought to take part in ‘The World’s Greatest Mind’!”

While joking, Fan Zihang also follows closely behind. His style of chess is free and laid-back. Or rather, he does it recklessly.

“You’ll be checkmated very quickly again like this.”

“So what? It’s chess - being happy is what’s most important!”

A cool breeze blows by slowly. The clamour outside the windows remain. But between the two of them, there seems to be the occasional sound of descending chess pieces, mixed with the sounds of scattered munching.

-

[ Chapter Five ]

Since that day, the genius boy became a regular visitor of the house of that Stupid Police Officer.

Fan Zihang continued getting off work early each day, and would bring the neighbouring boy along before heading home. His mother would sometimes criticise him for playing with a little kid at his age. But she’s extremely affable towards the boy, and would leave a serving of whatever delicious dim sum there is for him.

They would sit together and eat the dim sum, play games, and be pretty friendly with each other. No matter what the topic starts with, their conversation would always return to the same conclusion.

“Just look at yourself. Loafing around at this age.”

“Mum, it’s a good thing that my position is idle! It proves that there’s justice in the world, and that the civilians are safe.”

Aunt Liu doesn’t listen to such glib words. The more he says such things, the more worried she gets. With such a silly son, she’s worried that even by the time she gets old, he wouldn’t be able to settle down and form a good family. 

Evident from the facts, Murphy’s Law does exist. The more worried a person is about something, the more it will happen. 

Take for example, this particular evening. Fan Zihang, reeking of alcohol, walks into the residential area. His eyes are red, and one can’t tell if it’s due to crying or from being drunk.

Just a few hours earlier, he received a text during work from a girl he had been dating for several years. The contents of the message were brief and to the point - she wanted to break up with him. He was so frantic that he kept making calls, but even till his phone shut off from a lack of battery, he couldn’t contact the girlfriend who had suddenly bid him farewell.

Intoxicated, he supports himself on the wall and walks forward. Because he can’t find his keys, he starts pressing on the doorbell frenetically.

After a consecutive stream of ringing from the doorbell, the door finally opens.

The person who comes out is a boy whose face is full of distaste.

“Hm? Why is it you?” Only now does Fan Zihang realise that he had walked to the wrong door. He decides to give up on himself, squatting down and giving him a hug. With snot and tears running down his face, he relates his own tale of tragedy. “Boy, what do you think! Brother is so tall and handsome. Why would he get dumped!”

The boy is about to faint from the smell of alcohol. Even though he pushes and beats him, struggling violently in his arms, he isn’t able to twist out of the other party’s brute force. In order to escape as soon as possible, he ponders for a moment, thinking that it’s best to answer his question honestly.

“Truthfully speaking, I think it’s nothing strange for someone like you - who refuses to admit defeat even when playing games with kids - to get dumped.

“What I need right now is comfort! Are there bad friends like you out there?!” Fan Zihang lifts his tear-stained face, facing the boy. But the boy grasps the only important point in his words.

“We’re friends?” The boy’s question is particularly sincere, adding another blow to Fan Zihang’s hurt feelings.

“Boy, you really lack a conscience!! If we weren’t friends, would I accompany you to play chess every day and be easily defeated by you!”

The boy is suddenly enlightened, and the look in his eyes brighten. He says softly, “So friends share such a relationship?”

“Boy, the main points you get are really off the mark...” Seeing the boy look as though he just resolved a difficult problem boggling the century, Fan Zihang can’t help but laugh. The gloomy and dismal clouds hanging above him have more or less dissipated without him realising it.

“This counts as an honour to you, Boy. Your first friend is me, an amazing criminal police officer!”

“Mm, a useless adult who weeps to a kid after getting dumped by his girlfriend.” Over the course of their interactions, his refined and polite appearance has long since disappeared. He would even bicker to no end with Fan Zihang.

“You really aren’t cute at all sometimes! How can a person mature without experiencing some blood and tears!” Fan Zihang rubs his fuzzy little head roughly, filled with anticipation for his future. “Whether it’s you or me, there will come a day when we become very amazing people!”

He knows that their paths have conveyed only temporarily. He knows the two of them will eventually walk down completely different life paths.

But at the very least, at this present moment, they can cry and smile, smile and cry, supporting each other. 

[dl-oblivion]

What would S boys be like if they had good father and mother figures?

Considering both nature, and nurture play into ones personality development, that’s hard to say. I believe they’d be drastically different, as all suffer with severe childhood trauma that shaped them into who they are in the series. Some core aspects of their personalities would be kept though. I’m gonna break down their childhoods, and how I think they’d grow up if things were different. This is gonna be my first analysis so I hope you guys enjoy reading it.

⚠️TW for physical, emotional, and sexual abuse⚠️

Shu - As a child, Shu was constantly pressured as the eldest son to surpass his father. For hundreds of years he would have to study, and barely got anytime to be a kid. When he did, it was always on his own merit. Running away, and seeking out his best friend Edgar, was how he got away from it all. (At least for a very brief portion of his life.) One thing after another, the things that brought him joy were stripped from him, including Edgar. Feeling trapped, he eventually stopped caring all together, and burnt out. His lazy persona was formed from depression, and trauma. That being said, his sluggish attitude, is the only aspect of his personality I can really see changing. Maybe the vampire would be less sadistic too? That’s hard to say, but perhaps if he continued making human friends, he wouldn’t look down on them so much. Having good parents as a vampire might mean that they belittle humans even more so who knows. His quiet nature would remain, but he wouldn’t be shy by any means. I think his “cool” personality is just how he is. His perverted side would also still be present. It’s worth noting that he’s the only brother who hates his parents, but doesn’t hold any kind of grudge. (Subaru doesn’t hate his mom, but would kill his father if the opportunity was available.)

Reiji - Reijis childhood was the complete opposite of his older brother. Instead of being hyper focused on, he was neglected. No matter what he did, nobody seemed to care for his achievements. The reason why Reiji is the most intelligent out of all his siblings, is because he never stopped trying to get attention by proving his capabilities. Even when he did get praised, it was in the form of backhanded compliments “You will make an excellent right hand man to your brother once he becomes king”. That inferiority complex of his, and hatred for his mother/older brother, would have never been there if he had good parents. Being raised in a loving home, I believe the good aspects of his personality would be cranked up, as opposed to the bad. He’d still be the most intelligent, but out of curiosity, and the need to learn more than anything. His ego would still be present a bit, especially when it comes to humans, but perhaps he’d be more snarky than sadistic? I can also see him being less strict, and more charming towards people. The character would be a little empathetic towards others, and not as detached from his family. Getting along with his brother would be in a playful competitive sense. I also lowkey see him being a mamas boy.

Ayato - Ayato has a similar upbringing to Shu, except his mother was extremely unstable, and downright cruel. Unlike the other two mothers, Cordelia didn’t care for her sons at all. He was a victim to beatings, and torment (I’m sure we all know the story of him being drowned in a lake). Ayato also witnessed Cordelias fits/breakdowns, (which often resulted in maids being killed before his very eyes) as well as her love affairs. The reason why she showed even a shred of regard for Ayato, was because he was the oldest of the triplets. The vampire was praised for things that made his mother look good, and proved he was the “best”. One of the ways narcissists are formed is from parental neglect, and only being praised when they do something worthy of acknowledgement. Which is why his whole character revolves around his need to be the best. If the vampire was raised by good parents, his egotism wouldn’t be present at all. He’d be a way more lighthearted character, and probably just a big loud dork. I’m sure he’d still be a jerk to some extent, but in a misfit kind of a sense. He seems playful at heart, and stubborn in nature. Perhaps he’d be a bit of a heart breaker amongst ladies, or absolutely terrible at picking up chicks. I wholeheartedly believe his personality was mostly formed via “nurture”, but if he wasn’t as strong of a character emotionally, would he have made it out the same?

Laito - Laitos upbringing is different from that of his brothers. While he was neglected, and traumatized from witnessing things no kid should have, the abuse he went through didn’t occur until he was a teenager. At a certain age (unclear), Cordelia began abusing him sexually, and warped his viewpoint on love. His only purpose was to please her sexually, which completely fucked him up. While he always knew it was wrong, Laito was manipulated into believing that he loved his mother as a partner. When Karl Heinz found out, he locked Laito in a dungeon as punishment. Nobody was there to comfort, or acknowledge him as a victim. Instead, Cordelia had sex in front of Laito, and told her son that he was nothing more than a play toy. He continued the cycle of abuse once the incestuous relationship ended. His whole persona is fake, it’s a means to bury all his trauma deep down. With all that being said, Laito would be an entirely different person if he was raised by loving parents. Instead of being this abusive asshole, he’d be a more soft spoken, chill, and nice person. Maybe a little flirtatious, but unintentionally so. I highly doubt he’d be nearly as sadistic, or brutal when it comes to humans, as he didn’t even enjoy taking advantage of his first victim, Hilde (a maid). His hobbies might also be a focus for him, as he wouldn’t be constantly trying to fill up his time by preying on people. Perhaps being a legendary pianist? He’d definitely be closer to his brothers as well, and give them advice more often. His perceptive, and sharp people reading skills would still be there.

Kanato - Kanato has always been needy, and attention seeking. Instead of trying to get his mothers attention by proving his capabilities, he would often times beg for it, or hurt himself. Most of his childhood was spent being neglected. Even if he sustained really bad injuries, Cordelia would ignore him, or request one of the servants take care of it. She disregarded him, until it was discovered that he could sing. His mother was turned on by his voice, and requested that Kanato sing while she was having intercourse. Since he was exposed to sex at a young age, his view on lust/love is very warped, just like Laito. Not nearly as much, but he believes forcing himself onto others is normal. Women are lustful creatures who always want it, in his eyes. (This explains why he forces himself onto Yui the most out of all his brothers.) Cordelia would also order Kanato to dispose of her affairs once she was bored, or if they caused trouble. His mother approved of him turning them into dolls, which is why he continued doing it for hundreds of years. If he had a normal upbringing, Kanato wouldn’t be as broken, and deranged as he is. His mood swings, and extremely sadistic nature wouldn’t be there. I believe he’d be quite timid, and a bit bratty if raised with good parents. He’d throw tantrums sometimes if he didn’t get what he wanted, but not have full blown episodes. I think he also wouldn’t hate women, and humans nearly as much as he does. Kanato is a sensitive person at heart who needs love.

Subaru - Subaru had a lonely, and isolated childhood. He did experience brief moments of tenderly love from his mother, but it was usually followed by Christa breaking down, and screaming at him. His low self esteem is rooted in his mother calling him a monster his entire life. Because Christa was locked away, dealing with her own mental deterioration, Subaru looked after himself. Never did he get validation or approval from anybody. With no siblings to turn to, or father to look to for guidance, he became extremely destructive. Taking his anger out on objects was the only way he could remain sane with a sickly mother. I’m sure there’s been instances where he punched, or beat, brides/servants, as sad as that is to say. I wouldn’t doubt it, since he has said he’s blind during moments or rage, and can easily hurt others if they’re around him when he’s like this. If Subaru had even one good parental figure he’d be different. He’d still be sadistic, but able to control his anger/emotions way better. His horrible self image wouldn’t be there either, and maybe he’d take pride in himself more. I think he’d also pick up hobbies, or be involved in sports, as opposed to being a delinquent. It said in his part of the anniversary book that he actually enjoys exercising, and likes his body sometimes, because he works out. Without a doubt he’d still be an awkward goof, and a tsundere at times. Probably known around the school for having cute reactions as opposed to being scary.

Whew that was long, if you read even a sliver of that Ily (っ◔︣◡◔᷅)っ ❤

[rumpledgoldenweaver]

A Weekend Away

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling February prompt “I think we’re lost”. Also @fluffapalooza if it’s still open :) Read it on my blog: https://earlyrisingwriting.home.blog/2021/02/14/a-weekend-away/

An opportunity arises for the Gold Boys to spend time together away from Storybrooke’s prying eyes.

Malcolm Gold – he’d adopted his son’s cursed surname, Stiltskin didn’t seem right, it only served to remind him of the anger he’d felt when naming his baby boy. He didn’t want anything to do with the name Peter Pan any more, Gold was a fresh start – was beginning to rue the day he’d agreed to joining his rapidly expanding family for a weekend at Rumple’s forest cabin. It’s like the tree houses in Neverland Neal had explained but on the ground. It’ll be fun Papa, his son had told him through obviously gritted teeth, Malcolm hadn’t missed the discreet elbow to the ribs Rumple had taken from Belle as she’d added that it would be an opportunity to talk away from the scrutiny of the towns folk. Henry had kept a commendable straight face at that remark considering she was referring to at least half of his family. Malcolm liked Belle. She was honest, trusting but not to be crossed. Just what his son needed to keep him in line. It was mainly because of her he’d agreed to come along.  

Malcolm had also been grateful to Belle for her advice regarding clothing in this new land. Although Rumple’s suits looked sharp, he didn’t want that many layers. Neal’s clothes were a bit too casual so he settled on trousers Henry had called Chinos, shirts with buttons, thin jumpers and boots called Timberland. Today he was particularly glad of the boots. Rumple had used magic to transport all the necessary clothes, food etc to the cabin, leaving Malcolm, Neal and Henry free to arrive on foot. Henry had been so excited at the thought of a hike through the forest with his Dad, no one had the heart to object.

“I think we’re lost” Malcolm tried to get his bearings however the trees all looked the same, he had no idea how far into the the forest they were.

“Lost Boys” sniggered Neal. Henry snorted which made his father laugh even more.

“Following the leader, the leader, the leader” sang Henry “We’re following the leader…”

“Wherever he may go” Neal joined in, the two of them dancing round in a circle.

“Very funny”

“You have no idea” laughed Neal “Have you seen the Disney film about Peter Pan yet?”

“The what?” Malcolm was still bemused by the popular cultures of the world he now lived in even though he’d got a better grasp of how it actually worked.

Henry grinned the kind of wicked grin Rumple would have been proud of “You’ll love it Gramps, especially Hook”

Neal’s eyebrows rose at the use of Gramps in relation to Malcolm

“What? I call Rumple Grandpa and Malcolm didn’t like Great Grandpa so Mum suggested Gramps”

“Which Mum?” though Neal had his suspicions

Henry didn’t answer but the glint in his eye was enough. Emma had an evil sense of humour.

“One of you must have been to this cabin before?”

“Neal shook his head “I arrived in town not long before the trip to Neverland but Papa and I weren’t exactly on friendly terms back then”

“I haven’t been either, I didn’t know Grandpa was my Grandpa and my mums weren’t about to let me hang out with The Dark One”

“Wonderful”

Neal looked around for minute or two, then as if some secret signal had been given he made an abrupt turn and set off down a path “Come on. It’s this way”

~

“Rumple will you please stop fussing. We have enough food to survive a small siege. There is no need to summon more”

“Have you ever fed a twelve year old boy? If his appetite is anything like Bae’s at that age then…” he felt a lump rise in his throat.

“Rumple?”

“Then I want to make sure there’s plenty”

“Oh Rumple” she hugged him hoping to both reassure and pull him out of this melancholy. He pulled her closer, nuzzling her hair, whispering a thank you sweetheart. Belle moved to kiss him and for the next couple of minutes there was a feeling of peace between them.

“Hi Grandpa Hi Belle sorry we’re.. oh…” Henry looked embarrassed at interrupting.  Belle giggled, Rumple never even turned round as he replied “Hi Henry”

“Are they here?” Neal’s voice carried through the door.

“Er...yes…they are.. here…”

“Is something up?” Neal strode into the living room and stopped dead “Oh for pities sake you two get a room!”

Rumple did turn this time “This is my cabin Bae and my room”

“Not in front of the wee ones eh Laddie?” Malcolm chuckled.

“Indeed”

“Rumple..” there was a warning tone to Belle’s voice “remember what we talked about”

“Hmm”

Ever the diplomat Henry piped up “Is there anything to eat? I’m starving”

“Yes of course Henry” smiled Belle “in the kitchen”

The young boy disappeared, returning within five minutes carrying a plate loaded with burger, fries, onion rings, various dips and salad. Rumple gave Belle a told you so look.

“He obviously appreciates his food” Malcolm watched in amusement at Henry giving the burger his full attention.

“Takes after his father” Rumple nodded towards Neal as he too went to the kitchen and brought back a plate piled high.

Conversation remained light hearted as they ate, comments about both Neal and Henry having hollow legs because of their hearty appetites. Rumple found he was nearly enjoying himself. Nearly being better than not at all as Belle reminded him earlier.

“Where on earth did all the food come from anyway?” Malcolm asked as he debated which of the many desserts to try.

“I summoned it” Rumple replied reaching for a cupcake.

“Magic” Neal raised a suspicions eyebrow.

“Only to bring it here. It’s not magic food. I’ve paid Granny’s chef triple his wages to cook a steady supply especially for us”

“Fair enough” Neal took a satisfied mouthful of cake.

“More tea anyone?” Belle stood up and began collecting the various cups and mugs strewn around the room

“Coffee if you have it please”

“Of course Bae, I’ll put the pot on. Coffee has it’s own magic Dearie” he twirled his arms, turned on his heel and practically skipped out after Belle.

The expression on Henry’s face was priceless.

~

When everyone had eaten their fill, plates, cups and cutlery washed, dried and put away by hand not magic Rumple keenly pointed out, Henry suggested they watch a film. Malcolm being particularly interested in the idea of a a “moving book” being shown on something called a TV screen. Then began the debate over which one to put on. Whilst there wasn’t a great deal of choice amongst the DVD’s at the cabin, Rumple would be happy to summon whichever was decided on. Mostly it was left to Neal and Henry as they had the widest knowledge of such things. It seemed to Malcolm to be a very complicated process.

“Nothing over a PG”

“Awww Dad! I’m twelve! I can watch..”

“No. Your Mothers would find a hundred ways to kill me, bring me back to life and kill me all over again if they found out you’d watched anything remotely inappropriate”

“Grandpa would protect you”

“Oh no no no” laughed Rumple “Do not bring me into this. I argued with both of them over many things but even I have limits”

“What about that.. Disney thing you mentioned on the way here? Would that be allowable?”

All eyes turned to Malcolm.

“You mean Peter Pan?” Henry looked sceptical.

“Yeah.. that. I’d like to see it”

Rumple and Belle exchanged a look before he got up and went into the main bedroom. There followed the sound of keys turning in locks and a safe being opened.

“You keep Disney DVD’s in a vault Papa?”

“Along with a few other items I was unsure about at first yes”

“Such as?”

“Such as none of your business son” he walked back into the living room brandishing the disc “You can do the honours Bae”

It could, Belle mused to herself long after everyone else had retired for the night, have gone a lot worse.  For instance everyone agreed that the physical resemblance between the cartoon and the person was actually rather accurate. They had all laughed like drains at Captain Hook. Belle honestly thought she’d have to give medical attention to Rumple and Malcolm as their hysterics gave way to mighty coughing fits. Neal and Henry sang along with the songs, Never Smile At A Crocodile didn’t go down very well with Rumple at first but he saw the funny side in the end. When it came to Following The Leader, the youngest father and son immediately leapt to their feet and began dancing round the room in a repeat of their antics in the forest earlier.

“So that’s where that song came from” groused Malcolm.

There seemed to be an unspoken agreement to not discuss certain details regarding film versus real life, for that Belle was grateful. She knew the relationships in that room were complicated, messy, quite possibly very unhealthy and could keep Archie Hopper on Rumple’s pay roll for decades. Whilst she believed talking about these issues was healthy, this weekend was not the time or the place. For once no one was arguing, for once certain townsfolk weren’t around to stick their well intentioned (or otherwise) noses in. She wondered if inviting her own father for a weekend here might help ease tensions between him and her boyfriend. Maybe leave it a month or so before she suggested that.

“What are you smirking at?” Rumple came from the en suite,  pulled the bed covers back and climbed in bed beside her. Her eyes gleamed with mischief.

“Don’t you dare Belle” he warned, which was the wrong thing to say because of course she dared.

“Never smile at a crocodile..”

“I’m warning you young lady”

“No you can’t get friendly with a crocodile…” she sang between giggles.

“Right then”

And he proceeded to show her how friendly crocodiles could be when they wanted to.

[dandiesunzipped]

A Series of Unfortunate Debaggings, Chapter the First: The Wretched Reunion

If you are looking for happy-go-lucky Tumblr posts, dear reader, then exit out of this browser tab this instant. Then open your search engine of choice and enter “octogenarian makes friends with a hummingbird.” Or, better yet, destroy your electronic device in a fire and never open an internet browser again, sparing yourself from the cruelty and misfortunes of the world.

You see, dear reader, it is a sad truth in life that order continually diminishes. A cracked egg may never uncrack, yet clean, white eggs everywhere continue to fall off refrigerator shelves, adding to the world’s misfortune and chaos. A secret organization, however brilliant, talented, and kind its members were, may never truly heal after a devastating schism. And the corpse of a cherished loved one will never, ever unburn, no matter how grievously an author weeps over the pitiful tale. 

In the story I am about to tell, I am sorry to report on a panoply of augmenting disorganization, a phrase which here means “not what you want to read.” Orphans grow two years older, and with those years develop styles and interests ever more macabre and meterless--which is to say, one orphan does that. Mystery and intrigue each grow heavier and more complex, like how the derelicts that fill your recycling bin grow heavier and more complex with each passing day. And finally, all the young men in this tale (with the exception of one) are eventually separated from their clean-pressed trousers, left for the remainder of the tale with their scandalously mid-twentieth century underpants exposed.

This story begins like many before it: Violet, Klaus, Sunny, and Beatrice Baudelaire were charming, resourceful children, each with pleasant facial features and each with certain precocious gifts in the arts or sciences, such as memorizing and reciting passages of British Modernist poetry.

“We shall not cease from exploration,” recited Klaus, expertly steering the Beatrice onward. The outrigger bobbed in the gentle waves as it approached a safe gap in the line of ominous jagged rocks on the horizon that Violet had identified.

“And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.”

As the four Baudelaires walked across the sand and then through the waterfall of foliage on the hill separating the halves of their island, Violet recited the next stanza:

“Through the unknown, unremembered gate,” When the last of earth left to discover Is that which was the beginning; At the source of the longest river The voice of the hidden waterfall.”

All at once, fond and wretched memories swarmed together. At last, the Baudelaires were back at the tree. The tree where their parents had lived and ruled. The tree that held secrets below the root. The tree that had saved them from a sad, painful death.

“And the children in the apple-tree” finished Sunny.

“I’ve always found T.S. Eliot opaque,” noted Klaus, “but that poem of his is clearly relevant to our situation today, don’t you think? Who would have thought we’d return to this apple tree?” 

“Before you wax too romantic,” Violet said warmly but firmly, “Don’t forget our purpose here: to collect supplies and leave this evening. If we leave too late, we may be living on this island another year thanks to the tides.”

“Yeah, I’ll be in the library” said Klaus vacantly rushing away, past the old elephant skeleton and into the open arboretum. Violet shook her head, knowing exactly what silly trinket Klaus would be fruitlessly searching for all day.

As afternoon rudely pushed into evening, desperation rudely pushed Klaus to the ground, as he kicked and tossed flotsam around near his feet. The most interesting artifact he had found today was his old concierge shirt, which he now wore to complement his sandy trousers. “I know it’s here...” he murmured to himself. “Father--what would you have done?” That’s when a new idea struck the middle Baudelaire, a bit like the moment when Violet’s hero Sir Isaac Newton was struck by his big idea.

“Last year,” he asked Violet breathlessly as they rushed past each other in the arboretum, “Did you ever look behind the book case in Ishmael’s upper room?”

“No... but remember, Klaus: no matter what, we’re leaving this wasteland tonight at the violet hour. If the tide recedes too far, the Beatrice will scrape the rocky atoll and may sink!

But Klaus was already gone. Up the stairs of the massive apple tree Klaus ran. In Ishmael’s upper chamber, bookcases had been carved into the tree itself, with centuries of histories of the island filling the space. Klaus spent several minutes finding the volume that about the first arrival of “Ish” to the island. Reaching deep into the carved space behind this volume, Klaus finally touched what he was looking for. Greedily grabbing the long, mahogany object, he blew, long and steadily, even though it was Decision Day and not Rosh Hashanah.

Satisfied, Klaus joined his family. They took Beatrice on a visit to her mother’s grave to place flowers and recite to the young girl their precious few memories of her mother. After Sunny and Beatrice went off to finish dinner preparation, Violet and Klaus stood pensively over Olaf’s grave. Then Violet spoke, flatly:

“We learned so much from him.”

Klaus stared. “I mean, he was a horrible villain,” Violet clarified, “but if it hadn’t been for the pressure he placed on us, I never would have thought of so many inventions, and you never would have learned about nuptial law, for example.”

Klaus nodded. “And I doubt he’s responsible for our parents’ deaths, anyway.”

“Oh, don’t bring that up again, Klaus,” said Violet shaking her head and walking away. “Of course it was him!”

“But he didn’t confess, even when we finally pressed him!” Klaus called after her. “Even on his deathbed! Even after he saved Kit!”

Later, over a parting supper of smoked oysters, seaweed wraps, and coconut smoothies, the cook confronted her brother about his wasted hours during the others’ laborious day: “What’s in the box?” Sunny asked perkily. After a day of labor, all Klaus had to offer the boating party was a light, tightly wrapped package shaped like a question mark.

“Oh, it’s just an old artifact I was researching. You know, once we have our fortune, I think that’s what I think I’d like to do with my life: collect artifacts, become a successful archaeologist. I think VFD has prepared me well for decrypting ancient languages.” 

“Maybe we’ll find more artifacts on the next island we come by,” Violet replied, passing the seaweed to Beatrice. “Sunny and I made sure our supplies will last another year if need be.”

“Excellent work,” Klaus congratulated them. “And what method of propulsion will we be using this time? How can I help with that?”

“Generally, the sail should be sufficient. The tide is receding, so we don’t need any additional thrust: the water pressure on the single opening in this atoll will generate a current swift enough to propel the Beatrice outward to sea.” Violet took a sip of unfermented coconut smoothie. “Swimmingly. This day has gone swimmingly.”

As you may know, “swimmingly” is a word which here means “well” or “splendidly” or “lacking a villain to inflict unfortunate events upon you.” But anyone who, while swimming, has gazed into the murky depths beneath their vulnerable, dangling legs, or who has been subjected to a physical education class in a swimming pool will know just how ridiculous this definition of “swimmingly” is. Too often, swimming is an involuntary, unnecessary, and downright cruel activity. For instance, my day once went “swimmingly” because I was pursued through a fire pond by a pulchritudinous platypus. I’m sorry to report that the Baudelaires’ day was about to become worse than that one.

The Baudelaire’s evening continued to go swimmingly, or perhaps sailingly. Just as Violet predicted, the Beatrice was pulled by the receding tide toward the gap in the atoll, which would free them into the open sea. Out of the blue, Sunny asked, “What’s that?” happily pointing. Out of the blue sea, exactly behind the gap in the atoll, a sharp, scaly plate covered in seaweed was emerging. Then came another, and another, until The Great Unknown had fully reared its ugly, pointed head. Enormous and slippery, desperate and hungry, it hung its jaw agape, ready to let in any driftwood, sea water, or passing sting rays past its six shiny rows of very sharp teeth. Even if the Baudelaires had abandoned ship right then, the current would undoubtedly have swallowed all who traveled--whether swimmingly or sailingly--into the jaws of The Great Unknown.

Beatrice screamed as the bombinating beast obscured the setting sun. Violet wept profusely, thinking of the promise she made to keep her siblings safe. Klaus stared fixedly into an eye of the beast, as though hypnotized. Sunny simply smiled.

“Come, sweet death!” she cried as the jaws of the bombinating beast crashed down, enveloping all four Baudelaires, Beatrice and all.

***

“Baudelaires!” As soon as the children came to, they found themselves inside what could have been the Curdled Cave but warm and oddly lit. “Oh, Baudelaires! I’ve been so afraid! I’ve been absolutely panic-stricken on your behalf! But you’ve returned to my care!”

“Josephine?” asked Klaus, astonished. Indeed, the Baudelaires’ second cousin’s sister-in-law whom they knew as Aunt Josephine stood on a ledge, glowing in a white robe over the confused, distraught Baudelaires.

“Don’t be afraid! I would come down to hug each one of you if I wasn’t afraid of the germs and leeches that may have washed in along with all that kelp and sea water.”

“Ike?” asked Sunny, suddenly recalling the image of Josephine’s late husband the cave explorer resting in a warm place in the afterlife. Then, with wide eyes, Sunny asked more softly, “Parents?”

Josephine looked at Sunny confused for a moment. Then she cocked her head to one side, smiling poignantly at the young girl. “I don’t know where your parents are. I’m sorry, honey. And you really must learn to speak in complete sentences someday, Sunny,” she added with disappointment.

“But look on the bright side:” yelled a figure, emerging on crutches from the dark. “You’re alive!”

“Phil!” cried Violet, rushing in to hug the optimist. 

“We’re alive?” mirrored Sunny with confusion.

“‘Baudelaire orphans found alive!’ That’s the headline I would submit to The Daily Punctilio if nefarious villains intent on hunting us all down weren’t lurking around every street corner.”

“Duncan!” shouted Violet running further into the cave to hug yet another friend from her past. “And Quigley?”

For a brief moment, Duncan’s face dropped. The thrill in Violet’s voice, the distance in her eyes, the emphasis she placed on his brother’s name--all of it indicated to Duncan that he was her second favorite. But just as quickly, Duncan returned to grinning and stepped aside for his triplet brother to hug the eldest Baudelaire. 

“Words:“ began Isadora in the tone of a slam poet, everything about her style now black and bleak as she leaned against a wall obscured in shadow. “Why torment me? Why needle and prod me as you do with meaning? If I repeat you, words, over and over, meaningless you become. When our Selves defy measure and lilt and vowels--even grammar!--who dares, dares to confine this Ether reality, this cryptic vivacity, this Great Unknown! inside of--words.” She and Klaus smiled shyly at each other while others sounded their approval.

“But how did you find us here?” Violet questioned after a few pitying snaps. “What brought you to this island?”

“Do you have food?” Sunny demanded. “Can I help?”

“What even is this place?” Violet enquired. “A camouflaged submarine?”

“Why are you alive?” Sunny asked Josephine.

“Selmo!” shouted Beatrice.

“Calm yourselves, Baudelaires! For once, all that is mysterious to you shall soon be revealed--I promise.” proclaimed Josephine, still perched authoritatively from her ledge.

“Even to those of you without any questions...” remarked Quigley, glancing askance at the middle Baudelaire. 

“Why so quiet, Klaus?” asked Isadora with a teasing smile.

The middle Baudelaire orphan had remained remarkably calm this whole time, as if non-plussed by the situation. He shrugged nonchalantly “After you’ve read the book that answers the questions that burn like a fire in the mind, the act of asking feels--hollow. There’s just one burning question I’d like an answer to: where’s Fiona?”

“Oh, Klaus! You mustn’t end an independent clause with a preposition,” Josephine chided with motherly concern. “My daughter is busy on the command deck with my husband. The two are co-captains now!”

“Actually, Aunt Josephine, I find that preposition rule antiquated nowadays. Plenty of authors simply ignore it.”

“Hmph, your grammatical proclivities may be on the, er, modern side, Klaus Baudelaire, but for as long as you’re under my submarine walls, I insist that yo--”

“Wait!” interrupted Violet. “Fiona is your daughter, Aunt Josephine?! Does that mean she’s our,” Violet gulped, “cousin?”

“All of your questions will be answered, dear Baudelaires! For example, ‘technically speaking, second cousins once removed,’ is the answer to your most recent of inquiries, Violet, darling.”

“First let me serve them tea, Josephine!” pleaded Phil angelically. “I want to try a special recipe: bitter as wormwood and sharp as a two-edged sword.”

Sunny yipped in agreement, following Phil down a shady corridor, deep into The Great Unknown.

“After you, Violet,” said Duncan with an unctuous smile and hand gesture. I needn’t tell you, dear reader, how eagerly the three Quagmires and four Baudelaires came together for tea, ready to reconnect after years of cruel wrenching apart. But one detail that may intrigue you remains. For in the interim, a word which here means, “the duration in which Phil offered the Baudelaires tea and Josephine offered the Baudelaires her tale of survival,” or “Chapter 2 of this narrative,” a mysterious figure reentered the anteroom to rearrange the kelp that had washed aboard The Great Unknown along with the Baudelaires. I regret to inform you, dear reader, that this rearranged kelp formed letters on the wall, and that those letters formed a cryptic couplet, and that cryptic couplet formed a threat to all aboard:

“Abandon ship or abandon pants./ Your fates are sealed; leave naught to chance.”

And so began, dear reader, a series of unfortunate debaggings along the eerie corridors of The Great Unknown.

[lehmandelrey]

So let me just say this without going berserk because yeah it needs to be said.

We all remember that Till Lindemann, despite the whole penis-wielding schtick, is almost painfully shy and self-conscious, right? He has always been opened about it. He has said time and again that discussing his poetry and lyrics with the people he loves the most (the R+ boys, for instance) is almost unbearable for him sometimes because of how personal his art is to him.

He also has stage fright. We all remember that as well I think. He has always been open about it as well. Every public outing, especially when it comes to presenting his art, is a damn challenge to him. Yet he does it because he knows that he is loved and that his art is so, so loved. He knows that what he does changes and saves the lives of many people. Yes, of COURSE, he also does this because he wants to be appreciated, because it is possible to have stage fright while still wanting to be praised.

Yes, people can be grossed out by blood, we all have our phobias, it's normal. It's normal to read about/watch Till cutting up his arm and bleeding on the pages of his poetry book and to be irked because you don't like sharp objects/blood. It's normal.

You know what isn't normal?

saying "oh wow look at this egdelord bih thinking he does something special, half of the kids in my art school do the same shit" — yeah first of all, Till Lindemann isn't here to participate in your Originality Bingo Night, and, frankly, if you wanna scorn him for something that he's been doing for decades (see: the tillhammer, smashing his head against the mic, standing under the boiling hot fire rain on stage, drilling a hole in his cheek, etc.) then it's unclear how did you manage to become his fan at all. Because his whole art has been built around masochism (and masochism =/= self-harm but y'all are not ready to have this convo);

• being back at it again with speculating about his mental health and possible diagnosis. Just. Keep this between you and your gc I'm begging, even if you wish to project your own experiences on him.

No one is obligated to 100% agree with the decisions our favs make, but I'm just really damn curious about this thinly veiled animosity towards Till's decision to sell the bloodied pages of Messer. Yes, boohoo we all know a person who did something similar for shock value. This, however, is the man who literally battles tremendous anxieties every time he goes face to face with the public that agreed to consume his art. So yeah maybe it would be a good thing to express some empathy and remember he wasn't able to sleep the day before he was to present the Russian version of Messer in public. He was so freaking nervous that it wouldn't be enough for us, he resorted to bloodletting.

And no, this isn't the "he doesn't need to hurt himself to make us love him" situation.I don't know, maybe not everyone got it the first 86 times he admitted it himself, but this man loves pain. As in, he's a masochist. Which, again, doesn't equal self-harm. He admitted to enjoying pain in both sexual and non-sexual ways, and while, sure, sometimes he takes the sh*t to extremes, he clearly knows his limits and the levels of his own pain tolerance.

Yeah sure it's edgy. But some reactions I've been seeing just reek of the most repulsive snobbish "why doesn't he choose something more original next time" stance, I swear to God.

p.s. if any of you suffer from self-harming tendencies, please remember that you are valid and that there is no shame in seeking help. Every journey is unique.

[minhoslut]

♡ summary: Reader is traded to a band of pirates in return for the safety of her village because of her plant magic. They are not like she expected, much more like her than she could even imagine in fact. This is a journey through their relationships and the high seas they sail on.

♡ pairing: superm x fem!reader, superm x eachother

♡ chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | ? |

♡ series warnings: blood mention, injury mention, swearing, anxiety, death mention, depression, weapons, mxm

♡ series genre: romance, smut, angst

♡ series rating: Mature

♡ word count: 2261

♡ posted on: AO3

♡ chapter four: ice cold

Baekhyun returned with the entirety of the main crew whom you'd met, all of them taking a seat on various lower bunks, avoiding you beside Taemin, while the captain stop at the doorway. "It seems that hiding information was not the correct course of action. It was meant to soothe you rather than cause more harm." Jongin began slowly, watching your reaction carefully. "How could I be happy on a boat like this with a bunch of pirates? You took me from my home!" You huff, what kind of stupid logic was that. "Well, we were looking for you to complete our crew." You stared at him blankly, "What do you mean complete? How am I supposed to fit in here?" Jongin smiled, "Well if you stopped interrupting me, I could tell you." You snapped your mouth shut and he continued, "Good girl, now as I was saying, you were sought after rather than just randomly taken. All of us, in this room, are like you, we each have a power." What? How could that be? You were cursed, did they meet the same fate? You were nearly bursting with questions but you figured he would explain more if you said nothing. "Baekhyun is water, Taeyong is animals, Lucas is metal, Ten is fire, Mark is crafting, Taemin is light, and finally I am weather." You looked at each of them as Jongin listed off their powers, eyes landing back on the man speaking in the end. "Our powers are quite helpful in our trading business, it's the reason we all have such odd hair as well."

Not able to hold it back anymore you blurt out a question, "Ok, but what does that have to do with me? And I'd hardly call you traders your pirates for fucks sake." Jongin smirked. "You are the eighth person with powers such as ours. For many years we were under the impression there were no others until we heard rumour of you. I'm sorry that we took you from your home but I have a feeling that you didn't have many ties there other than, based on your power, a garden." It was annoying how accurate he was in his analysis, and the stupid smirk on his face made it more annoying since he knew you couldn't say anything. "As for trading, we have different ways of going about our trading, but we trade with mostly other pirates anyway, on pirate ports. We simply don't wait to trade for valuable or rare things when we could just take it from those who are not pirates." You narrow your eyes, "So you're looking down on everyone who isn't a pirate? You think you can ruin peoples lives just because?" Jongin shook his head at your words, "We would never steal from a good person or someone without much to give. Think more like kings and palaces that have many jewels for no reason, we simply take them away to be used." You scoffed, it was a stupid excuse, but they were pirates so you didn't expect them to see how wrong it was. "Regardless, I didn't want to come." You snap. Mark rolled his eyes and gave an annoyed sighed, "That's why we just took you dumbass."

"Mark." Jongin shot the smaller man a sharp look, which silenced him immediately, leaving him pouting like a puppy. "It's unfortunate that we had to take you, but there wasn't really a way for us to ask you to join, we have a reputation to uphold." You shook your head in disbelief, they were really going to brush it off just like that. "Y/N, I know it's hard to understand but we all have our reasons..." Taemin said, his hand still rubbing gentle circles on your back. You sighed, at least they were being honest now but you still felt angry about the situation. "It's not home yet, but hopefully you find yourself able to relax here eventually. I'd like to tell you to not go anywhere alone, I trust the men in this room, but the rest of the crew can be, less pleasant." Jongin said, bringing your attention back to him.

"This will never be my home, this is a prison. I still hate my magic and I still hate it here. I still hate all of you." Your sharp words filled the room with ice. "That may be the case, but maybe we can teach you more about your powers and you could hate them less." Baekhyun said, sadness lacing his voice as he looked at you. Regret bubbled in your heart despite your minds protest. "Regardless of everything, you are here now and we will keep you safe and healthy while you're with us." Jongin said firmly, then he called for Mark to leave with him, leaving you with the five other men in a very uncomfortable silence.

"Taemin, could help me up on my bed please?" You asked softly, thoroughly exhausted by your tears and the conversation. Your mind was racing with all the information, trying to process it and sort it out in your head. "Of course." Taemin said, standing and interlocking his hands and offering you a step up onto the bed. Once you are on the bed, you pull the blanket over your body and curl up into a ball in the farthest corner. Everything about this situation is hurting you, and none of them seem to understand that.

You listen to the hushed whispers of the crew after they assume you've fallen asleep, you can tell they are talking about you because you hear the words 'plant' and 'girl.' Tears fell from your eyes as you curled even deeper into yourself, you didn't want to be here anymore, not on this ship, not on this Earth.

~

When you woke up the next morning the cabin was empty save for Ten who was sitting on Marks bed reading a book. You sat up, wrapping yourself in the blanket. "You're up? Do you want to get food?" The maroon haired man asked you, his voice gentle. Shaking your head you laid back down and stared at the ceiling, listening to the door shut behind Ten as he left to get food for himself. After a few moments of quiet, you sat up once more and carefully hopped off the bed. You thought of last night when the captain had told you not to leave alone, but you couldn't stand to be in the room any longer. Pulling the door open you headed to the main deck, finding it almost empty since most of the crew was eating. You walked straight to the edge of the ship and leaned over the side to watch the waves crash against the boat.

The ocean had always scared you, even before you'd been cursed. You avoided it as much as you could when you'd lived on the island, never learning to swim and spending your time as far inland as you could while still doing your work. The ocean was loud and dark and vast, a never-ending abyss of huge waves, dangerous storms, and creatures unknown. And now here you were, in the middle of that horrible ocean, staring into the darkness of the waters and feeling the salty air chill as the clouds ahead turned dark. You leaned farther over the edge stepping on tiptoe, the mist of ocean spray covering your skin. Breathing in deeply you lean even farther, nearly unbalanced as the ocean looms ever closer.

"Y/N!" A voice shouts your name and you are yanked away from the edge of the ship in a hurry. You scramble to pull out of the grip of the person who is holding you, but they simply turn you in their grasp. Lucas' dark brown eyes stared into your own as you relax in his hold now that you know it's not a random crew member. "What were you doing you could have fallen in?" Lucas sounded genuinely worried about your safety and you felt like a small child being chastised. "I was just thinking." You said softly, looking away from his eyes. Lucas sighed, "You aren't supposed to go around alone anyway, you should have come to the dining hall to get one of us. You knew we were there." You huff, "Wouldn't that still be going somewhere alone? Where's the logic in that." Lucas stares at you a moment before he begins to laugh. It's a loud and boisterous laugh that has you trying to conceal the smile that is twitching at your lips. "Well, let's get you to Baekhyun, it's his turn to have you shadow him."

You sighed, not looking forward to it. Baekhyun had sounded so sad last time you'd seen him and you had a feeling that would carry over to today. You shouldn't be so concerned for one of the men who kidnapped you but you couldn't help it. Following the tall man, you reached the captains quarters where Lucas knocked lightly. You heard shuffling in the room and then the door was opened by Baekhyun who was doing up the buttons on his shirt. His eyes flitted to yours for an instance but you saw the sadness that they held. "We are headed to the maps room today, checking our distance for the next port." Baekhyun said plainly, then started walking away quickly, making you run slightly to catch up with him. It was silent as you walked, observing the blue-haired man as he walked ahead of you. He held himself with confidence and a sense of power, his shoulders set and head held high, subtly commanding the respect of those around him.

You soon reached a small room with a large desk in the center, that was covered in many pieces of parchment and some strange objects you didn't recognize. Baekhyun gestured to one of the chairs that were in the room so you sat in it while he moved the things on the desk around. We should be nearing port in the next day or so, so I need to make sure we are where we should be." He explained, but there was no real emotion in his voice. You sat quietly while he used the strange tools and held them against the maps, comparing lengths in ways that made absolutely no sense to you. Baekhyun made no attempts at conversing with you, and it wasn't in the way a person would when they are overly focused. It was an empty drawn-out silence that you hated. He must be really upset about last night... Your heart twinged at the thought. "Baekhyun?" You tried cautiously, but you were ignored. "Baekhyun?" You said again, a bit stronger but still no response. "Baek-" - "Y/N I don't want to talk ok?" You snapped your mouth shut, feeling hurt by the cold words.

The rest of the day was spent watching Baekhyun check the map and then following him out onto the main deck while he made sure everyone was doing what was needed to prepare for docking the next day. He hadn't spoken a word to you since he'd said not to talk, and you'd given up on trying since the silence hurt less than the words did at least. In the evening it was mealtime again, but you still didn't want anything, the day with Baekhyun had only added to the turmoil inside of you and made your appetite disappear. You tried to go to the room but Baekhyun had given a stern look before nodding his head towards the table so in the end you were sitting at the table beside Taeyong and Jongin at the head as usual. Taeyong had apparently lost at seat picking since he ended up beside you, you could hear him mumbling under his breath when he'd sat down.

You focused on your hands in your lap during the meal, picking at the skin around your nails. "/N? Y/N!" You looked up at the person saying your name and found Ten waving his hand in front of you. "You haven't eaten today." He stated plainly, "Not hungry." You answered simply, returning your gaze to your now bleeding cuticles. "Come back to the room with me then, we have an early morning together." Ten said, standing up and walking towards the door. You must be shadowing him tomorrow, so you got up and went after him. He led you to a room you hadn't been in yet that was filled with bandages and had a simple cot in it. "Hands." He said and you held them out to him. Ten made a clicking noise with his tongue then grabbed a roll of cloth and wrapped each of your fingers with it. "There, now you won't make them any worse." He said returning the leftover cloth to a shelf. "Thanks..." You said softly, feeling embarrassed by having someone care for your injury

Ten turned on his heel and exited the room, so you did as well, making your way back to the bunks. Ten gave you a step up onto your bed before heading over to his, but before he got up he removed his shirt putting the smooth expanse of his skin on display to you. You felt your cheeks warm as you watched the muscles in his back move, quickly turning your head when Ten had jumped up on his bed and turned to face you. "Sleep well." You heard him say softly before the room was enveloped in silence.

[cloudphillips]

One

Seungwan should've known better than to wager against Sooyoung.

  Considering the Slytherin girl's penchant for mischief and deception, it should've been enough incentive for Seungwan to know that something fishy was going on. But even her long history of pure bad luck and gullible tendencies didn't prevent her from taking the bait. Now she had to sneak around the halls of Hogwarts in the middle of the night concealed under the invisibility cloak to search of the fabled Room of Requirement.

  She could've been lounging in the Ravenclaw common room right now writing her essay in Transfiguration and or sneaking into the kitchens to teach the art of Muggle baking to the house elves she befriended but no, she just had to lose a stupid bet.

  And now, she had to pay for the price. 

She descended from the winding steps of the Grand Staircase and followed the directions leading to the castle grounds. The rational part of her brain screamed at her to Turn back! You're breaking school rules! Retreat before you get expelled! But the other side of her, the small, miniscule and barely-there prideful side of her refused to be cowed. She will not back down from this. Seungwan didn't want to give Sooyoung the satisfaction of knowing that she was a coward all along.

  By the end of the corridor, the young Ravenclaw stopped dead in her tracks when the Gray Lady fluttered pass the solid walls. Their gazes met and those lifeless eyes seemed to see past the magic veil of her invisibility cloak. Seungwan briefly wandered if ghosts were immune to its enchantments. Thankfully, the Gray Lady ignored her existence and continued haunting the halls of Hogwarts. Once the coast was clear, Seungwan resumed her task.

  Any normal person could pretend and claim about finding the Room of Requirement but Seungwan was such a bad liar so there was no way she could've successfully pulled a deception of this magnitude from Sooyoung. The girl was an experienced bullshit detector and any attempts of manipulation from Seungwan would be for nought.

  Besides, Kim Yerim, a young Gryffindor and Sooyoung's evil partner in crime, threatened to jinx Seungwan's flying broom and burn all the books she owned if she ever chickened out. In the end, the Ravenclaw decided that she couldn't risk it.

  Lurking behind the statue of a grotesque gargoyle, Seungwan blew off whisps of her blonde hair that obscured her vision as she studied the intricate patterns carved on the walls in the hopes of revealing a concealed passageway. Hogwarts was full of hidden rooms and other enchantments. Many of its secrets remained undiscovered and it would take her centuries to uncover all of them.

  There was an unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing along the halls and she hastened her pace. "Nox!" After extinguishing the light from her wand and ensuring that her entire body was hidden underneath the cloak, Seungwan waited with bated breath when she saw the hunched figure of Filch emerge from the Great Hall. His beady eyes scanned the empty corridor, searching for anything suspiciously out of the ordinary. He entirely missed the young Ravenclaw's silhouette standing beside a knight statue and decided to make a quick stop to his office. He found it pointless to patrol the school and catch rule-breaking students without the aid of his precious shackles.

  Seungwan released a sign of relief. She was not getting caught today. No sir!

  She poked her head out from the cloak, checking to see if he really left the vicinity and cheering internally when he did. Seungwan was really pushing it now. The number of school rules she was breaking must be horrendous and her best friend Joohyun would be so disappointed, especially when she finds out that the invisibility cloak she lent to Seungwan had been used for illegal purposes.

  Seungwan knew that she was a bad friend, taking advantage of Joohyun's kindness and lying just to achieve her ends, but a lot was at stake here and she couldn't let the devil duo win. She couldn't let them taint Ravenclaw's immaculate reputation by allowing the spread of rumors regarding her cowardice. Seungwan would rather die than bring shame to her house.

  The young Ravenclaw sucked in a deep breath and steadied her resolve. She needed to find this Room of Requirement as soon as possible so she could return to her common room and be done with it. She still needed to read Gilderoy Lockhart's Voyages with Vampires goddamnit!

  "The light drives away the void that has long blinded my eyes upon your arrival." Seungwan nearly jumped in surprise when the portrait of a dark-haired woman, wearing a white Grecian dress and resting casually on a rustic bench then holding a cluster of grapes within the palm of her hands, called her attention. The title Embodiment of Love and Beauty: Aphrodite was carved on the base of the portrait's golden frame and it sparked a recent memory of the Greek Mythology book Seungwan was reading a few days ago. "Come yonder and whisper the melody into my ears-" Aphrodite leaned closer to get a better look at the blonde girl. "-the reason why a darling rose like you lurks in the darkness of the night."

  Wow. The Ravenclaw was amazed. Who knew that Aphrodite could be so poetic? All the books she read never mentioned how the goddess had a way with words. She could give Apollo a run for his money.

  "Uhmm.." Seungwan was bewildered because she thought she was doing a great job of hiding. Apparently not, because she was clearly caught by someone, even if it was just a mere painting. "I was hoping to find the Room of Requirement." The greek goddess ruefully shook her head, tendrils of raven black locks swaying with every movement, and made such a simple act look so elegant.

  Aphrodite seemed refined and ethereal and for some reason, Seungwan noted an akin likeness between the goddess and Joohyun.

  Huh.

  "My lovely rose. Forget such trivialities and allow me to bask in your sweet presence." Aphrodite purred as she batted her eyelashes coquettishly at the innocent girl. The goddess seemed to have taken a liking towards the young Ravenclaw. "You wield the brilliance of the sun within you. Are you, perchance, an offspring of Apollo?" And when Seungwan shook her head no, the deity continued singing her praises. "No matter. I will not let such things hinder us. For I will pluck all stars in the sky and weave them into garments only befitting of your radiance."

  The blonde girl didn't know what to do with the sudden attention. She was flattered, really, that the Goddess of Love and Beauty found her worthy of her affections but Aphrodite was a portrait and Seungwan was just not into her.

  Seungwan thought of ways on how to gently turn the goddess' advances down without offending her. Sure, Aphrodite was a portrait and held no real power over her but all deities, even ones immortalized in paintings, had enormous pride and easily get injured at the smallest of things.

  "I wish to fulfill your wishes O lovely Aphrodite! But my heart is torn and I simply cannot." Seungwan decided to lay it thick and flatter the goddess. The sooner she escapes this predicament, the sooner she can continue her task of finding the elusive room. "For I am a mere mortal unworthy of your affections. Our becoming is never destined and the Sisters of Fate would drive us apart." At times like these, her greasiness was put to good use. All those instances of playfully flirting at Joohyun was paying off.

  "We simply cannot be." She whispered brokenly to elicit a dramatic effect and successfully rendered Aphrodite into tears. Who knew that Seungwan had a knack for theatrics?

  A part of her was guilty for pulling this cunning move and manipulating someone, even if that someone was just a portrait, but she couldn't deny the rush of excitement it gave her. She was starting to know what it felt like being a Slytherin.

  "Alas! You speak of the truth, my darling rose, and my heart has come to accept this. Forgive me for forcing my unwanted affections upon you." The goddess wiped away the last of her tears and gathered her resolve. "Allow me to amend my offenses and aid you in your endeavors." Aphrodite bestowed her godly blessings upon the blonde, which was completely unnecessary because the deity was a painting and she wielded no real power, and Seungwan just obeyed because she wasn't raised to be rude. "You seek of a place which is hard to find. A room that comes and goes."

  That piqued the young Ravenclaw's interest and she leaned closer, eager to learn what the deity has to say. Aphrodite smiled fondly at Seungwan before stating a cryptic message. "It only ever appears in times of great need."

  Their little chat was interrupted when familiar voices sounded down the corridor. "I think someone's down here!" One of them said and their footsteps quickened. The young Ravenclaw panicked and spurred into action by hiding behind a marble pillar and covering herself with the invisibility cloak. She waited with bated breath and clutched her wand tightly as she prepared herself for an unwanted confrontation.

  Seungwan thought she heard the distinct sound of a cat purring and upon glancing down, she was caught paralyzed by the sight of Mrs. Norris glaring at her nastily. The feline's beady yellow eyes sent tendrils of fear to her spine. For a moment, she wondered how the animal could see her through the veil of the enchanted cloak. Did felines have a heightened sense of sight that they acquired the ability to detect invisible objects? "Shoo! Please go away." Seungwan tried her best to treat the cat with as much courtesy as possible because even though Mrs. Norris wasn't the most well-liked among the students, considering she was Filch's pet, but she was still a cat and Seungwan respected all animals, no matter how evil.

  Mrs. Norris had other intentions because her hackles rised and lunged to attack the young Ravenclaw. Those razor-sharp claws sank deep into her leg, slightly drew some blood, and effectively tore her trousers. The blonde was unable to stop the groan that escaped from her lips when she felt the stinging sensation.

  Crap!

  The voices became louder and the young Ravenclaw barely had time to control her agonized breathing when two figures emerged from the dark hall. Upon getting a clearer look on their features, Seungwan stifled a groan and cursed the universe for playing a sick game on her.

  It was her friends. Seulgi and Joohyun.

  Both of which were Prefects.

  Prefects who were patrolling the halls of Hogwarts late at night.

  Prefects who, if they somehow caught wind of Seungwan's rule-breaking, had the authority to take away house points and report the said girl to the Head of the Ravenclaw House.

  Just her luck.

  "There's nothing down here Joohyun." Seulgi directed the tip of her wand to cast a beam of light upon the dark corridor. Joohyun told her earlier that she heard some noises in the vicinity and accompanied her friend to investigate. "It's just Mrs. Norris hissing at nothing in particular." Seulgi nodded at the said feline, who was busy glaring at an empty spot behind a marbled pillar, then turned to regard her friend skeptically.

  "That's odd." A minute ago, she thought she heard someone whimpering as if they were in pain. Thinking that a person was injured, she hurried over to check it out, only to find nothing. Did I miss something? Joohyun thought as she squinted her eyes to thoroughly examine the dark hall. She found the cat's actions quite unusual, hissing at the wall and clawing at the empty space as if provoked by the air, but she chalked it up to weird animal behavior. She shook her head and acquiesced. "It must have been my imagination."

  "Do you want to rest? I could finish patrolling if you want. We've already checked most of the castle anyway." Seulgi asked her friend in concern. Being a kind person that she was, it's quite expected of her to ensure her friend's well-being, even if it meant sacrificing her own. Maybe her good-nature just comes with being a Hufflepuff.

  "No, I'm fine." Joohyun declined her offer and adjusted the green scarf wrapped around her neck. The cold air felt like freezing shards that bit her skin but she shrugged her uneasiness off and remained impassive because she didn't want to inconvenience Seulgi. "Let's finish this."

  She gritted her teeth when another blast of the chilly night air hit her face. Joohyun longed for a personal heater, probably in the form of a blonde Ravenclaw Muggleborn whose bright smile put the sun to shame.

  "Last stop, the Dungeons." Seulgi shivered anxiously when she uttered the word. She aimed the light down the spiralling staircase that led to their intended destination and huddled close to Joohyun partly for warmth and mostly for reassurance. The taller girl felt uncomfortable with dark and creepy places. She had gotten used to the warm and comfy atmosphere of the Hufflepuff common room and stifling areas like the Dungeons made her quite nervous. It was a good thing she had her Slytherin friend to accompany her.

  Joohyun furrowed her brows, took one last look at the dark halls, before reluctantly following Seulgi to continue with their patrol.

  As soon as the Prefects were out of sight, the blonde released the breath she'd been holding and quickly shrugged off her cloak to check the damage that evil cat had inflicted.

  Sure enough, her trousers were torn and there was a trail of blood that stained the rainbow-colored socks she borrowed from Seulgi. Crap! The socks were ruined and no amount of Scourgify could remove those bloodstains. Seungwan used to stock her luggage with numerous bottles of bleach for cleaning purposes but her supplies dwindled after that one particular incident which involved diving under the black lake for some experimental research in Care of Magical Creatures and trying to befriend a Giant Squid for extra credit.

  How was the blonde supposed to know that the Giant Squid’s way of showing its trust and getting its stamp of approval was to squirt stinky black ink all over her body?

  How was she supposed to know that, by that simple and disgusting gesture alone, she was already adopted into the squid community?

  Squid ink was difficult to remove, mind you, and it left Seungwan smelling like seafood the whole week.

  And that was the story of how she used up all her bleach.

  If only there was some magical equivalent of the 7/11 convenient store in the wizarding world so she could restock her supplies.

  Oh well, can’t have everything, can we?

  Mrs. Norris poised for another attack and that was enough incentive for Seungwan to run for her life. It was quite ridiculous that she was being terrorized by a cat but in her defense, Mrs. Norris was a demon incarnate. No amount of reasoning would work around that feline so with the influence of her self-preservation, the young Ravenclaw took off. If she were to die, she didn’t want it to be caused by something stupid like being clawed to death by a cat. That’s just ridiculous. She’d be rolling over her grave if that were to happen.

  Seungwan dashed along the winding halls of Hogwarts and ignored the burning sensation on her wound. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping her sane now and she tried to remain composed while a murderous cat followed her wake. She took a series of twist and turns and ran until she could no longer hear the sound of screeching and purring.

  The Ravenclaw stopped short to catch her breath and shrugged off her cloak to wipe the sweat off her face. She had never been more exhausted in her entire life and that was a great indicator that Seungwan needed to do more cardio. It made her wonder if this dare was worth risking her life for. She contemplated of backing out but the mocking laugh of Sooyoung and the sinister grin of Yeri, along with the images of broken brooms and burning books, flashed into her mind and her resolve was back full force.

  She’d come this far. Might as well get this over with.

  She will not live like a coward. Not today Satan!

  But as soon as Seungwan regained some courage, it quickly dwindled when she realized that she was lost, like, really lost. It seemed like she stumbled upon an old abandoned classroom by chance.

  Scrolls of spare parchment and splinters littered the floors, unused desks and chairs were stacked haphazardly behind the dust-covered blackboard and marbled statues were blasted into pieces. The windows were smashed and the walls were scorched. It’s as if someone lit the whole room on fire and left it burning for centuries. A few Dementor dummies were broken beyond repair and some of its parts fell to ashes.

  Then something caught her attention.

  Standing far back into the room and partially covered by a worn red tapestry, there was an ornate and fairly ancient-looking mirror. The base had a clawed foot that served as a support and the gold borders that framed its edges were inscribed with a foreign and probably dead language.

  Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi

  Due to the fact that she was a Ravenclaw and she had a natural tendency to be curious, Seungwan walked close to inspect the object. She tried to decipher the hidden meaning behind the carvings and moved until her silhouette was reflected in the mirror.

  She looked like a hobo.

  Due to all the running she had to do, her short blonde locks clung to her neck in sticky waves and sweat dampened her skin. Her robes were askew and trousers were torn. She looked like she took a jolly night stroll at the Forbidden Forest but got attacked by an Acromantula.

  Her disheveled appearance reminded her of the time Ravenclaw had a Quidditch match against Gryffindor. It was a pitch-black stormy day and she strayed off the pitch trying to catch the Golden Snitch. She was struck by lightning and landed on the Whomping Willow really badly. Ravenclaw won the match but her broom was pretty wrecked and she was out of commission for nearly three months.

  Seungwan tried to smooth out the unruly bangs that covered her eyes when the image shimmered and her appearance changed. Suddenly, she wasn't the only person reflected in the mirror anymore.

  Standing before her were her friends and all sported cheery expressions on their faces. They looked older and more refined. Gone was the childlike naivety in their eyes and it was replaced with such wisdom that only comes after long years of being exposed to the world and meeting different people.

  Each of them portrayed their dream job. Sooyoung was now a fierce Auror. There was a certain fire in her eyes as she casually draped an arm over a Yerim, who appeared to be the youngest Head of the Ministry of Magic. The Gryffindor girl sported the same mischievous smile and it seemed like she still retained her penchant for troublemaking. Seulgi clutched her latest edition Comet 2500 and posed elegantly like the famous Quidditch player that she is. Joohyun was staring at all of them fondly. A small contented smile graced her lips as she stood as the new Headmistress of Hogwarts. Meanwhile, Seungwan had the professional badge of a Mediwitch and cradled in her arms an award from St. Mungo's hospital for her tireless efforts in curing magical maladies.

  There she was together with the people she held dearly to her heart, looking happy and contented, serving as pillars of support for each other and carrying with them an unbreakable bond formed by long years of friendship.

  Everything she desired and all she had been dreaming about were right before her.

  "What are you doing here?"

  Seungwan jumped in surprise when she heard the familiar bone-chilling voice that could only belong to one person.

  Joohyun.

  Judging from the stern expression she was sporting, the Slytherin Prefect was in her no-nonsense mode and she didn't look quite happy catching Seungwan red handed. "Sneaking around the castle at night is forbidden." Her tone sounded accusatory and the Ravenclaw fought hard not to squirm under her intense gaze. If glares could kill, the blonde would be dead right now.

  So much for not getting caught.

  "Sorry." She offered a lame apology, suddenly finding her shoes very interesting. Oh look! There’s a drop of blood staining the laces! She really needed to get some bleach.

  When Joohyun's left eye twitched in annoyance, it didn't take long for Seungwan to break like a dam and quickly spun a tale of how she got into this predicament. "I lost a bet to Sooyoung! I really didn't want to break the rules but Yerim threatened to jinx my broom and burn my books if I chickened out!"

  Joohyun remained indifferent the whole time the blonde Ravenclaw pleaded her defense. Her gaze landed on the invisibility cloak that was discarded to the ground. The one she lent to Seungwan. “Is this why you borrowed my cloak? To use it for illicit purposes?”

  “No! I mean- Yes!” Seungwan slapped her forehead. She was running out of excuses to tell. It seems like she can’t bullshit her way out of this situation. “I just wanted to find the Room of Requirement and Sooyoung said it can only be found at night.” The blonde sighed in defeat. Even she sounded crazy to herself.

  “Didn’t anyone warn you not to play Sooyoung’s games? Anyone in their right minds wouldn’t fall for her tricks.” Joohyun furrowed her brows. How could anyone be that gullible?

  “I know! I can be pretty stupid at times!” The Ravenclaw was ready to rip out her hair and throw herself out the window. There would be fewer stupid people in the world and she would  be doing the universe a favor. She groaned and stared helplessly at her amused friend. It’s good to know that the Slytherin found entertainment in her misery. “Why do I always make bad life decisions?”

  “Honestly? I also ask myself that question.” Then Joohyun noticed the blood gushing on Seungwan’s feet and rushed to her aid immediately. “What happened? Who did this to you?” She forced the blonde to sit down on the floor while she inspected the wounds. Thankfully, it wasn’t that deep and didn’t require a complicated healing spell for it to mend.

  “It’s nothing really, just a scratch.” Seungwan tried to shrug it off but Joohyun remained persistent and vigilantly scanned her from head to toe to check if she’d been hurt anywhere else. Once the Prefect was certain that the blonde was relatively unharmed, except for her bloody feet, she proceeded to softly blow air upon the wound in an attempt to soothe the pain. Seungwan blinked twice. Her heart hammering against the cages of her ribs and she had difficulty swallowing the lump in her throat.

  There was something about the way Joohyun tenderly cradled her injured leg and traced featherlight strokes on her skin. Her hands were gentle, reverent… cautious. It’s as if she was taking great care not to break Seungwan with her touch. Their gazes met and Seungwan somehow stopped breathing. Something shimmered in Joohyun’s eyes, a message held secret deep within her soul, and the young Ravenclaw couldn’t quite decipher it.

  Without taking her stare off the injured girl, the Slytherin Prefect took out her wand and cast a healing spell. “Episkey.” Joohyun whispered under her breath, eyes transfixed on those soft lips, itching to get close…closer.

  Seungwan could barely feel the wound closing nor the pain waning. Joohyun was looking at her intensely and she didn’t know how to handle it so she asked a rather dumb query. “Is there something on my face?”

  That effectively broke Joohyun out of whatever trance she was in. The Slytherin girl cleared her throat and stood up. She helped the blonde girl to her feet but refused to meet her eyes so she looked everywhere until she gazed upon the ancient looking mirror. Her curiosity was piqued. "What's this?" Noticing the foreign language carved on its golden frame, Joohyun moved closer to examine it. She wondered aloud.

  "Erised?"

  "Okay, this might sound crazy but I have a theory. Hogwarts is a magical school whose mysteries are still left unsolved. This might be one of those mysteries. You do know that the school never runs out questionable objects." Seungwan voiced out her ideas and it didn't take long for her to start pacing. Her hands making wild gestures in the air as she tried to put into words the thousands of possibilities her brain concocted.

  "I think this mirror shows the future." The Ravenclaw declared with such certainty and paused, eyes narrowing as millions of other thoughts swam into her head. "But how far into the future does it show? Maybe not too far." She shook her head and continued pacing.

  The Slytherin Prefect stood back and watched the blonde mutter a thousand things per minute. It's like her mouth couldn't keep up with her brain so she compensates by rambling about nothing and everything at once. It was only during times like this that Joohyun would get a glimpse inside Seungwan's mind. The younger girl was usually insecure about being a chatterbox, always carefully watching her words and actions around people. If it were up to her, she'd listen to Seungwan all day. Her thoughts were like lyrics Joohyun would gladly spend her life composing into a song.

  "What do you see?" Her internal musing was interrupted when the Ravenclaw stopped pacing and regarded her with an inquiry. Solving mysteries had always been Seungwan's obsession and the Prefect could tell that she was in her element. Joohyun could see it. The way the flames of curiosity burned in those brown orbs and the eagerness to discover the unknown transformed her, giving her an aura of confidence that rarely showed itself.

  Seungwan was glowing and it took her breath away.

  It took Joohyun a few moments to gather her thoughts. The effort to calm her pounding heart was futile for the blonde proved to be quite distracting so she focused all her attention to both their reflection in the mirror instead.

  "I don't see anything." Joohyun furrowed her brows and regarded the blonde in confusion. What was so special about this mirror? It certainly didn’t look so magical to her. Maybe Seungwan was mistaken?

  "Are you sure?" Seungwan was bewildered. If her theory was correct and this mirror showed the future then why couldn't Joohyun see anything? She gestured for Joohyun to try again since she was desperate to prove her point. “Can you please look again?”

  Joohyun was unamused. It was pointless really. It was just a regular mirror. There was nothing magical about it. Why can’t the blonde Ravenclaw see that? She crossed her arms and glared hard at the reflections on the mirror, particularly at herself for always giving into Seungwan’s wishes. “Have you forgotten how mirrors work?” A minute has passed and she still found nothing in particular.

  "I only see us."

  The dejected look on Seungwan's features tugged at Joohyun’s heartstrings and the Slytherin Prefect volunteered to stare back into the useless mirror for an hour. Yes, Joohyun was a mess. She was a HUGE mess. She could barely make rational decisions when it came to Seungwan.

  The blonde shook her head and declined the Prefect’s offer. "Maybe it's just my imagination."

  Seungwan grabbed the abandoned invisibility cloak on the floor and dusted off the dirt before wrapping it snugly around Joohyun to keep her warm. Then she grabbed the raven-haired girl’s hand and guided her out of the room. Her mind running a thousand miles per minute, still trying to make sense of the mystery she witnessed.

  Meanwhile, Slytherin girl kept glancing at their intertwined hands, wondering why their fingers fit so perfectly with each other and thinking about how she didn't want to let go.

  Not now, not ever.

  And deep down Joohyun knew, that she wouldn't mind being cold if it meant that Seungwan would always keep her warm.

  ***

  Seungwan never did find the Room of Requirement and the following day, she had to face the music in the form of Sooyoung's offhanded Honestly? I'm even not surprised. I've heard rumors that the Room of Requirement only ever shows itself to people of worth and, no offense, you are not such person. What surprised me more was that you decided to go along with the dare. I was expecting you to back out since I knew that you could be a chicken at times.

  Or Yerim’s cutting What the heck? You're the top of the class! The smartest witch of our age! Out of all the people, you had the best chances of finding it. But I guess we really do cannot have it all. Seungwan didn't know if she should be flattered by the fact that Gryffindor held her with such a high regard or be insulted at the insinuation that she was a failure.

  Anyways, the blonde Ravenclaw retreated to the library to lick her wounds and pass the time by doing some light reading. She came across an interesting passage in the book that left her reeling with questions.

  The Mirror of Erised

  An ancient magical mirror made before the end of the nineteenth century by an unknown creator. It shows the deepest, most desperate desire of one's heart, a vision that has been known to drive men mad.

  Below the paragraph was a portrait of a familiar ornate mirror. Seungwan squinted to examine it closer and gasped in shock. It was the exact same one she found last night; the same mirror that appeared in her dreams countless of times. There was no mistaking it. The foreign carvings along its golden frame were identical. She read the passage again and again and stared at the portrait until her vision blurred with images of the reflections she saw.

  Joohyun being the Hogwarts Headmistress.

  Seulgi became a Professional Quidditch player.

  Her own self was a lauded Mediwitch.

  Sooyoung training as an Auror.

  And Yerim as the youngest Head of the Ministry of Magic.

  It made sense now. The young Ravenclaw already putting together the pieces of the puzzle. Seungwan was close to solving everything but there was still one thing that remained a mystery to her.

  How come Joohyun only saw them both?

[loopyhoopywrites]

Just a quick note to say this piece features an almost-argument and Cedrix being a prat, and is therefore more angsty than my usual writings. If that’s not your thing, feel free to skip!

(Additional warning for cringey nicknames.)

Read on Wattpad  -  Read on AO3  -  Previous prompt fills

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“Cedrix!! Guess what I found!”

“Hmm?” Cedrix looked up from the sword he’d been slowly polishing, quickly moving the blade out of the way as his husband bent down to kiss him hello. Tim had something hidden behind his back, and was practically bouncing with excitement.

“What?”

“Guess!”

Despite his insistence, Cedrix suspected Tim would be at least slightly disappointed were he to guess correctly. Luckily, he had absolutely no idea.

“I have no idea.” He said.

“Tada!”

With a flourish, Tim whipped out the mystery object. Cedrix leant back before it could hit him in the face.

“The Hermits Guide to Friendship,” He read, “Volume Eight?”

“Isn’t it great!” Said Tim, flopping down beside Cedrix. Cedrix only just managed to move his sword out of the way in time. “I thought they’d stopped making them.”

“So did I.” Muttered Cedrix.

Usually, Tim’s enthusiasm was infectious. This was not one of those times.

“So much for C-J’s retirement.” He scoffed, returning his attention to his blade and refusing to look up as Tim began to leaf through the pages. Why Tim was so enamoured with that ridiculous book he couldn’t fathom.

He continued running his sword over the whetstone, annoyed at Tim for breaking his concentration. Of course, the real reason he was annoyed was the fact that Tim apparently though their marriage was going so spectacularly badly that he felt the need to seek out advice from a proven charlatan, and Cedrix was well aware of this. Consequently, he did what he always did when faced with his own insecurities.

He stubbornly ignored it.

“I think this is a different CJ,” Tim was saying, “The writing style is different.”

Well, it was nice to know Cedrix hadn’t given Tim’s tower away in vain. Although if whoever had replaced Diago as CJ Themir ever wanted an out, Cedrix was staying well away.

Tim continued to read. Cedrix continued to pretend he wasn’t sulking. Eventually, however, he couldn’t resist a sarcastic quip.

“Any good advice?”

Impervious to Cedrix’s bad mood, Tim was his usual cheerful self as he replied.

“Of course not.”

Cedrix could have told him that without even opening the cover.

“Perhaps you should ask for your money back.” He sneered, well aware that he was trying to start an argument and equally as aware that Tim wouldn’t rise to it. Somehow, that just made him more annoyed.

Sure enough, Tim just giggled.

“I didn’t buy it for the advice, silly.”

Cedrix just grunted, then almost cursed as Tim’s hand reached for his own. Usually this would have be fine, but usually Cedrix wasn’t holding a razor sharp blade.

“Careful!” He snapped, jerking the sword, and his hand, out of Tim’s reach. Still refusing to look at his husband he abruptly stood, stepping around the whetstone to place the weapon back on the rack. He was still angry. He pretended it wasn’t at himself.

“Ceddy?”

Even the childhood nickname wasn’t enough to get Cedrix to turn around. His insistence on ensuring the sword he’d returned was perfectly straight wasn’t fooling anyone. Least of all himself.

“Why did you buy the damned thing?” He muttered, only half intending Tim to hear him. The armoury’s echo made the decision for him, sending his words reverberating around the suddenly too silent room.

Even so, Tim’s reply was barely audible.

“It reminded me of how we met.”

Guilt wasn’t a sensation Cedrix was familiar with, but he felt it now. He’d heard the tremble in Tim’s voice, and suddenly he hated himself. Truthfully, his anger was at himself, terrified that he hadn’t been a good enough husband, and he’d been heartless enough to turn that anger on Tim.

If he could do that, maybe he wasn’t a good husband after all.

All the fight drained out of him. He returned to Tim’s side on autopilot, not looking up even after he sat down, instead staring at his hands without seeing them. It was only when he felt a hesitant squeeze that he even realised Tim had slowly laced their fingers together.

“Ceddy?”

“I’m sorry.” They were usually the hardest words for Cedrix to say, but now they were easy. Almost too easy.

“I’m sorry.” He said again. They still weren’t enough.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” Cedrix’s head snapped up. Tim was watching him with a caution that broke Cedrix’s heart, eyes watery and lips trembling.

“No.” Cedrix repeated, and in an instance his anger was back. This time, it was directed exactly where it belonged. At himself.

“No,” He said again, stronger this time, “I was being a prat.”

Startled, Tim let out a watery laugh. Taking a risk, Cedrix squeezed his hand. Tim squeezed back.

Suddenly Cedrix found himself wanting to talk, to explain to Tim everything he feared and everything he was insecure about. To explain that he’d never once imagined himself being loved by someone so incredible, and that there were times he never thought he’d be worthy of it. To explain his fears that one day Tim would look at him and see all his imperfections, and decide he just wasn’t worth it anymore. To explain that seeing that book had reminded him just how little he knew about relationships, and just how scared he was that one day he would screw up so irreparably that he’d lose Tim forever.

He wanted to explain all of this.

He didn’t know how.

Somehow, Tim understood it anyway.

“You can be a prat,” He agreed, and this time it was Cedrix that laughed even as he cried, “But I love you anyway. Just like how I can be clumsy and unsafe and you love me anyway.”

“It’s easy to love you.” Cedrix sniffed. At some point the two of them had gravitated toward each other, and now Cedrix closed the gap, resting his forehead against his husband’s. He felt tears on his cheeks. They could have been his, or they could have been Tim’s. It was impossible to tell.

“It’s never easy to love someone,” Tim countered, so close Cedrix could feel the words as he spoke them, “But it’s worth it. And we don’t need a book to tell us what to do when things go wrong.”

He gave Cedrix’s hand one final squeeze.

“We’ll just work it out together.”

[somethingjustsouthofbrilliance]

When Love Must Die (chapter 2)

Some new old players become involved…

Tagging @armaggedidnt @oh-hamlet @foxyfoe-reblog @s3dgy @butttteeerrrrrr @swanheart69

Link to chapter 1 (masterlist)

__________________________

Chapter 2

Anathema didn’t know what this day would bring when she woke up this morning, snug in the arms of her Destined (not Chosen, no, but Destined and then, gradually, grudgingly, Accepted) lover.  Just like any other day forward from the moment she burned the second book of prophecies written by her occultist ancestor.  Every day now was a surprise, every action, every choice she made – a novelty, one whose outcome she could now neither know nor even imagine.

She finds she quite likes the unexpectedness, the suspense of it. Enjoys it even.  (Even when it involves trying out Newt’s latest cooking adventure, which, on occasion, even manages to come out edible and only slightly burned).

Yet having her and Newt’s breakfast interrupted by the sudden appearance of the red-haired demon she remembers from the events leading up to the Armageddon-That-Didn’t that materializes in the middle of her kitchen in a puff of gray smoke, clutching his white-haired angel companion in his arms, is something that makes her reconsider the wisdom of burning those prophetic pages all those months ago.

Across from her at the table Newt lets out a rather undignified squeak that she guesses is due, at least in part, to the cup of tea, whose scaldingly hot contents are currently spreading all across the front of his trousers.  She stands up shakily, sparing a quick thought of gratitude for the fact that she hadn’t yet touched her own tea and that her cup still stood safely on its saucer.  Whirls on the pair with the righteous anger of one who had just been startled into near choking on a piece of an overcooked omelette.

“What… the hell are you two­-?”

“I can’t heal him!” the demon interrupts in a low, desperate growl, his wild gaze sweeping blindly across the room before it settles with desperate urgency on Anathema.  

And now that Anathema had a chance to calm down from the shock of their unexpected arrival, she begins to notice things she didn’t see before.  How limp the angel lies in the demon’s embrace, for instance. How pale, how unnaturally still he is.  

“I’ve tried…” The demon sways a bit, his knees buckling for a moment before he forcibly locks them in place.  

He’s sweating, Anathema realizes with a start, the pallor of his skin almost matching the unhealthy gray of the angel’s.  Power drain, she thinks absently, as she takes a hesitant step toward them.  He must have tried to heal whatever’s wrong with the angel and used up too much.  The demon’s very next breathless words confirm her suspicions.

“I’ve tried everything, and I can’t… He won’t wake up.” Exhausted yellow eyes stare at her, pleading. “I need… I need your book. Maybe there’s something…”  The demon trails off with an uncertain frown as she shakes her head, regretful. Tightens his grip on the unconscious angel. “What?”

“The first book of prophecies only covered as far as the End of the World,” Anathema explains, throwing a cautious look at Newt, unsurprised to see a hint of worry in the other’s eyes. Because… well, because, “There was a second book, but I…”

“What?”

She looks away from the intense, questioning gaze of the slitted eyes. Focuses instead on the slack figure in the demon’s arms.  “I burned it.”

“You what???” The demon lurches at her with a snarl, dark power crackling in the air around him, and Anathema’s certain that, in that instance, he wouldn’t hesitate to use that power against her.  Even if it’s the very last of it he has to offer.  Even if it drains him, kills him in the process.

“Wh-what’s wrong with him?” Newt slides into the demon’s path, hands raised placatingly before him, and Anathema can’t help a flare of gratitude and surprised affection toward her un-Chosen stuttering idiot.  Because, whatever else could be said about Newton Pulsifer – the hapless Witchfinder and Walking Calamity when it comes to all things electronic – seeing him come in between a murderous demon and the object of that demon’s wrath is nothing short of idiotic… but also, admittedly, rather arousingly attractive.

The demon falters in his forward progress, snake eyes flicking momentarily over to Newt’s fumbling figure before he closes them briefly, his face scrunching up as if in pain. When he looks back up at the two of them, Anathema is relieved to see that the feral glow in them has faded, and the exhaustion she had glimpsed earlier was back full force, tinged now with the unmistakable bleakness of hopeless despair.  It echoes in a sharp twist of empathy in Anathema’s heart.

“There was a book,” the demon responds, a dull sound barely above a whisper.  “One of those,” he drops his gaze down to the angel, still cradled securely against his chest, “one of those ancient moth-eaten folios he loves so much. He said the text was smudged in one spot… a… a stain or something. So he miracled it away and then…”

His expression twists again, although the pain it reflects, Anathema guesses, is hardly physical. Staggers in place, setting one foot back to keep his balance.  

Anathema can bear it no longer.

“There’s a couch in the next room,” she tells him as she boldly walks by him, motioning for him to come along.  “Why don’t you set him down there and then show me that book.”  She pauses when the demon makes no move to follow, turns back to face him, eyebrow arched.  “Look,” she tries, “I may not have the Book of Prophecies anymore, but I am still a witch. And I’m guessing that whatever happened to your friend was caused by a curse of some kind.” She takes a step back toward him, trying her best to look undaunted by the demon’s grim-faced skepticism, “I know a thing or two about curses. Maybe I can help.”  

She doesn’t wait for him to respond. Simply turns back around and walks into the living room, hopeful that the demon will follow.

He does, and she release a soft sigh of relief as she watches him lower the angel onto the couch with utmost care, one hand lingering on the being’s chest as if reluctant to let go.

“Would you show me the book now?” she asks, gentle.

The demon nods, his gaze never straying from the angel’s unconscious form. Sticks out his hand, palm up, and an instant later a small time-yellowed book appears in its grasp. And Anathema’s fingers barely close over the faded cover, when the demon sways alarmingly – that one bit of magic seemingly having drained what little reserves he had left, and it is only Newt’s surprisingly quick reflexes that save him from crumpling to the floor as his legs fold underneath him.

Newt grunts under the added weight, his arms tightening around the near-boneless demon who slumps briefly against him. Throws a worried look at Anathema, who had stepped closer, too, her free hand reaching out to lend support.

The demon raises a shaky hand, forestalling her movement. Straightens out with visible effort, extricating himself from Newt’s hold.  Staggers across the short distance that separates him from the couch.

“So what do you think, Witch Girl?” he grits out hoarsely, nodding to the book in Anathema’s hands, as he sinks down to sit beside the angel.  “What can you do?”

She rolls her eyes at him, already flipping open the front cover.  “Anathema,” she corrects with perfunctory primness.

“Huh?”

“My name,” she explains, giving him what she hopes is a disapproving glare from above the rims of her glasses.  “I assume you have one, too? Or should I just go with Snake-Eyed Demon?”

He shakes his head, lips twitching slightly at the challenge in her voice.  “Crowley will do just fine,” he offers grudgingly, then stands, wavering momentarily before stalking over to tower over Anathema.  Prods, impatient, all trace of amusement gone, “Well?”

Anathema purses her lips, refusing to appear intimidated.  Runs her fingertips across the warped yellowed page.  It’s clean save for some black smudges right along the edges of the page, where one would have to run a finger to leaf through them. She touches the spots gingerly, leafs through the next few pages.  They all appear to be in the same condition: a fairly large, inky black stain obscuring a portion of the text or drawing and a smudge of the same substance along the edge.

“You said the angel–“

“Aziraphale.”

“Aziraphale,” she amends with a mildly encouraging smile, “miracled the stain away.”  At the demon’s nod of confirmation, she presses on, “How soon after that did he sense that something was wrong?”

“Right away, I think.” The demon casts a quick, worried glance at the angel’s stubbornly still form. “He knew right away.”

“Right.” Anathema runs her fingers along the stained edges one more time, holds them against the larger stain on the center of the page to be sure.  Nothing, she doesn’t feel a thing. “There was a book I read a while ago,” she muses, “a guide to various potions and poisons against different creatures, mortal and occult.  Oh, don’t give me that look,” playfully, she swats Newt on the shoulder, chastising. Points to her chest, “Witch, remember? Anyway, I remember the book mentioning a particularly potent, deadly poison that only impacted supernatural beings.  I tried looking for it, actually, before coming to Tadfield – you know, for the whole Armageddon mess. Unsuccessfully, mind you,” she hurries to add when the demon scowls angrily at her words.

The demon looks back at the couch again, hands clenched in tight fists at his sides. “So whoever gave Aziraphale this book…”

“Intended for him to be poisoned, yes,” she nods, regretful.  “The way those pages are stained, it… He would have had to come in contact with that substance even if he didn’t bother miracling away that first stain. It would have been unavoidable.”

The demon growls low in his throat, and Anathema startles as a nearby window explodes in a shower of glass. “What about a cure?” He whirls back toward her, eyes aglow.  “Come on, Witch G…Anathema, what about a cure?”

She swallows nervously, fighting the urge to step back under the savage intensity of his glare. “I don’t… it’s not that simple.”

The demon’s lips pull back in a snarl, the yellow of his irises bleeding out to cover his eyes fully, and she does move back this time.  “Look,” she tries, hands raised in silent surrender, “this poison, it… the way it works is it binds the being’s powers the moment it enters its body, so they can’t do anything to fight it.  And then… then it starts growing, destroying the being’s corporation cell by cell, until all that’s left is a powerless, severely weakened essence that–“

“Is there a way to stop it?”

She cringes at the abrupt forcefulness of the question; ventures forth, cautious, “The book talks about the possibility of transferring the poison into a… a similar receptacle, but–“

“Another angel, you mean.” The demon slides in closer.  “Fallen or otherwise?”

And she can see the faint flicker of hope in those burning pools of slitted gold; knows exactly what the demon intends to do.  And she can’t let him; can’t allow him to cling to the deceitful, deadly promise of it.  

“Don’t,” she cautions. “You… It’ll kill you.”

The demon huffs, unimpressed.  “Yeah, I got that part – what with the whole ‘deadly’ and ‘potent’ spiel.  Not an idiot, thank you. Now tell me what I need to do.”

And Anathema admires that kind of loyalty – that readiness to sacrifice himself for his… his friend(?), his lover(?); she really does. But…  “You don’t understand,” she insists.  “The poison, when it’s absorbed upon initial contact, it works and grows slowly. Painlessly almost.  But upon transfer… well, it’s already had a chance to spread and evolve, and it’ll be so much faster, so much more powerful, it…” She presses her lips together, a twinge of inexplicable sympathy and worry tugging at her heart.  “It won’t just kill you,” she whispers, almost hoping he would reconsider. “It’ll torture you while it does it. It… it’ll be brutal.”

The demon’s lips twist into a bitter smirk, a calm acceptance in the amber gaze.  “Fast and brutal,” he sums up, sounding strangely matter-of-fact.  “Just like old times.” Something flashes across his face – a fleeting trace of an unpleasant memory. He blinks it away, his smile turning strained as he addresses Anathema once again. “Come on, then, Witch Girl. Tell me what to do.”

TBC