#But he sees Elio's honesty as

[stellar-skyy]

hihi! an iced english breakfast tea with father figure blade?

“iced english breakfast tea here, for... ah, who was it? Oh, of course! Blade!”

☆ — if you're craving a drink, make sure to stop by the teashop!

i. SUMMARY: While on a trip, you receive a letter from a certain Stellaron Hunter. ii. CWS & NOTES: no warnings applicable. PLATONIC blade & gn!reader, brief silver wolf & reader, kafka & reader. father figure!blade. found family fluff. 0.5k words. iii. A/N: hi anon! this request was actually much further in the queue, but i finished it quickly so i thought i might as well post it now.

The letter is penned on bright white paper, covered in small creases that have been smoothed out. The writing on it is small, with some parts crossed out and rewritten, filling the entire page. In the corner is a small series of doodles in purple ink, crude drawings of the three Stellaron Hunters and you. The envelope is beside it with the wax seal broken, smelling faintly of spider lilies.

Inside, it reads:

[Name],

I hope this letter reaches you well, if it reaches you in the first place. I must admit I am skeptical of the effectiveness of the intergalactic postal system, but it isn’t as if there is another way to contact you, aside from tossing the letter into outer space and hoping it finds its way to the planet you are currently on.

I think this is the longest it’s been without seeing you since you were young. It is much too quiet without you around; Silver Wolf has attempted to fill the silence, but I hardly understand what she is talking about half of the time and I do not care to ask. When you return, you will have to inform me what ‘dps’ and ‘maxed out’ means, because I know asking her now will only give me a long-winded spiel about those video games she is obsessed with.

Despite you being gone several weeks now, it’s still been difficult to adjust to having one fewer member of the group. I have been turning the corner, expecting you to be there waiting for me, but I am constantly finding myself alone. Kafka tells me it’s the mother hen instincts, but she doesn’t know what she is talking about.

Silver Wolf has been asking about you non-stop, telling me she wants her Player Two back. She made me play with her for a bit, but according to her, I’m so terrible at the games that it isn’t even fun to beat me. I’m not sure what she means, she beats you all the time anyway, but when I told her that she just rolled her eyes.

Kafka misses you too, though she’s at least got enough emotional maturity to admit that out loud instead of sulking. When she found out I was writing this letter, she made me promise to tell you she can’t wait to see you again, and you’d better be taking care of yourself. I think she feels the same as I do, even as she teases me for it. Things just aren’t the same with one less person.

I know you’re wondering about me, but I’ll keep it short—I’m fine. My condition is no better than you last saw me, but it is no worse either. You don’t have to worry, and I mean that with honesty.

I trust you are using this well-deserved break to its fullest, taking in the sights and not causing any excess trouble. Elio doesn’t allow vacations very often—it’s a wonder he approved this one, with all the missions he’s sent us on lately—so make sure you take advantage of it. If you are in a tough situation, you only need to remember what Kafka and I have taught you: hit them fast and hard, and don’t leave any witnesses.

Be safe. I’ll see you soon.

Blade

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[theseshipsshallsail]

Happy Friday, Peaches, new chapter of the reunion fic coming right up 🍑

Considering the state of the world right now, I'm going to give a quick heads-up for this chapter. It's nothing detailed, but at one point our boys are discussing a piece of artwork called the Angelus Novus - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angelus_Novus - an idea that's fascinated me for years, and in doing so touch on Nazi Germany and the persecution of the Jewish race. So if you might find that triggering just skip ahead a few paragraphs after 'He flashes his teeth' and jump back in at 'Neither,” Elio says, whiskey-warm.'

You won't miss anything plot-wise, and the happy ending will still be waiting for you after 😘❤️

Chapter 5

A merry whoop is the only warning he receives before Elio zips in front of him, the whipcord muscles of his calves pumping furiously as they crest the gruelling hill. Oliver deviates to the right - clenching the handlebar tightly - then straightens from the saddle to overtake him on the downhill; emerald-green oxford flapping behind him with each bump and bend of the winding lane. 

The burnished wheat fields are steeped in familiarity. As too are the sentinel sunflowers raising their befuddled blooms. They’d pedalled this route innumerable occasions their amber-coated summer: chitchatting about all and nothing as they manoeuvred side by side. Oliver knows every inch of this countryside - just as he once knew every inch of the man beside him - but it’s the overgrown track half-shielded by a rotund cedar that has him slamming on the brakes; his front tyre strewing pebbles like confetti while he just about manages to remain vertical.

“Oliver?” 

Dismounting gingerly, he kicks at the pervading weeds. “Is that…”

“My spot?” Elio walks his faithful leri backwards. “I’m impressed you remember,” he says, and Oliver laughs; the crisp, monosyllabic rasp of the supremely bewildered. 

“Of course I remember,” he replies, acid souring his throat. “I'm like you. I remember everything.”

The thunderbolt compulsion to investigate further is undeniable, so with a bit of nudging, tussling, and under-the-ribs poking they stomp a gulley through the thickset juniper attempting to conceal the sacrosanct sanctuary ahead. 

Just like the postcard, the copse itself is interspersed with wildflowers: tall, marine pines hosting a riotous clatter of starlings in their branches when they balance their bicycles against them. The turquoise cove glistens crystalline as ever, and across the bay - with a fair amount of squinting - he’s able to parse the Perlman’s rooftop and adjacent villa where Vimini was wont to appear in her floppy hat and flamboyant outfits like some astute Mexican bandit.

“He’s oblivious, our Elio,” she’d told him one morning, gaze intent on a fractious hermit crab she’d wheedled from a low-tide rock pool. “He works so hard at pretending not to like you, yet only succeeds in deceiving himself. He does, though. I know he does,” she’d continued with that innate bluntness he found so endearing. “And it’s easy to see you like him back.”

“More than he knows,” Oliver’d confided, returning the beady-eyed crustacean to its native habitat. “And definitely more than he likes me.” 

“I beg to differ,” Vimini’d muttered, jabbing at a clump of slimy seaweed. “But that’s because I’m a genius. And smarter than the pair of you combined…”

No legacy is so rich as honesty.

“The last time I came here,” Elio says, interrupting his wool-gathering. “...was the day I called you home.” Dropping to the sloped pasture, he sets about undoing his laces. “The time before that...” 

“Was with me.” It’s less a question than a statement.

“Giusto.” Elio tugs off his socks. Heaps them with his mobile. “Twenty years.” He doesn’t sound accusatory, but there's a mild sort of resignation in his lilt that slashes like a blade. Lodges in his heart like a particularly intractable chigger. “Feels like forever…” 

Oliver sighs. “Feels like yesterday,” he says, shucking his espadrilles as Elio cants back on his elbows, tipping his chin at the Alpi Orobie’s gushing tributary.

“The meaning of the river flowing is not that all things are changing so that we cannot encounter them twice, but that some things stay the same only by changing.” He flashes his teeth. “Have you ever heard of the Angelus Novus?”

Vaguely, Oliver thinks, having touched on the subject for a sophomore midterm. “From Walter Benjamin’s thesis?”

“A Philosophy of History,” Elio confirms, crossing his legs at the ankles. “The original is a 1920s oil-transfer produced by Paul Klee. Benjamin acquired the monoprint, but committed suicide whilst fleeing the Nazis, so bequeathed it to his friend, Gershom Scholem: an eminent academic.”

“Currently part of a collection in the Israeli Museum,” Oliver recalls, intensely curious. “What of it?” 

Elio beheads a violet aster. “Well,” he begins, twirling it lazily. “According to Scholem, Benjamin felt an almost mystical identification with the image; describing it as the Angel of History. He believed it was caught in a storm,” he continues, removing the petals one-by-one. “That before it lies the past; a shambolic mass of births and deaths. Wars, won and lost. Entire generations wiped out at a despot’s whim.” A pause. “Things we humans pretend can be straightened into tidy little spreadsheets of cause and effect.” Elio discards the mangled flower. Selects a seeded dandelion instead. “In any event, the angel sees the wreckage for what it is. Wants to put things right, even. Awaken the dead. Restore what’s been smashed. But it’s stuck, tu vois? Buffeted by that almighty wind. Anxiously stumbling backwards into a future it can’t see. Unable to alter the past it can’t reach.” 

“And this wind?” Oliver asks, the pull of Eros all-encompassing. “Is it fate, then? Within Scholem’s metaphor? Or the will of God, perhaps?”

“Neither,” Elio says, whiskey-warm. “It’s what one might call progress.” He smiles - sharper, brighter - then leaps up with boyish vigour; yanking the striped material of his polo-shirt over his head. “Enough of this,” he says, adding it to the pile. “No more speeches, d’accord?” And if the hypnotising glint of his Star of David wasn't liable to make Oliver’s breath stutter, the titanium bars adorning his dusky nipples damn near knock him to his knees. “Catch me if you can, Americano!” Elio yells, already wading into the shallows, so Oliver rids himself of his shirt, wallet, and watch, and prepares to give chase. 

His cargo shorts should dry soon enough - better that, than chance sporting an erection in thin cotton underwear - howbeit plunging into the frigid lake he lets out an involuntary yelp, immediately deciding that’s a moot concern anyway. The current is more robust in the centre - of which his quarry conducts a beeline - and Oliver prays for his extremities as he twists into a nimble corkscrew; the tantalising peek of Elio’s pale limbs ratcheting his pulse until he surfaces from the abstract depths.

Monet’s berm comes rushing in - 

The high-pitched trill of a house-martin in the stunted palms.

The shrinking roar of a vespa as it climbs the remote mountain pass. 

The soporific churn of the Mediterranean below.

- and digging his toes into the shingly sediment Oliver rakes the bedraggled fringe from his bleary vision, only to end up spluttering when a barrelling wave hits him full pelt. 

Elio’s giggles are like music to his ears - water-logged though they might be - yet Oliver’s not above playing dirty himself, and lunging for his wily opponent he tackles him from behind; lifting him up to spin him off-balance in retribution.

“Stronzo!” Elio cries when he almost dunks them under, but he’s beaming nonetheless as Oliver tailors them curve-to-curve, nuzzling his forehead to the velvet expanse of skin dividing his shoulders.

“You started it.” 

“One of us had to,” Elio says, snaking a hand to Oliver’s waist as he wriggles about to face him, and after nine long weeks of intellectual foreplay, all other bets are suddenly off. “I’m going to kiss you, mon amour.”

“Is that so?” Oliver asks, nosing the scallop-shell dip of his clavicle. 

“Assolutamente...” Livewire lips meet the tendons of his neck: a magnetic spark both seductive and searing. “Unless you tell me no, that is.”   

A broken-glass cough claws at Oliver’s oesophagus. “Whyever would I tell you no?” he asks, sweeping the pad of his thumb through Elio’s soggy ringlets. “I’d give you the world if you let me.”

“If I’ll let you?”

“If that’s what you want?” Elio’s bravado turns bashful as twin specks of colour gild the apples of his  cheeks. “I want you, Oliver. Us,” he says hoarsely, then banishes the gap between them; ten centimetres and two decades eradicated in a soft, powdered-sugar kiss that dissolves too-swiftly upon his tongue, leaving him inordinately famished for more.

[no-such-hidden-truths]

⋆˙𖤓 "I am Elio, seeker of truth and defender of the innocent. Should you find yourself in need of protection, come under my wings with an honest heart, and I will shield you." 𖤓˙⋆

[Tiefling paladin guy 👍]

[He/him for mun and muse, paired with @amithemagic]

[Picrew credit for icon]

Tags:

Truth is Declared: Elio speaking.

Honesty in Ink: writing, or threads with plot.

So Sets the Sun: completed threads.

Lens of Truth: aesthetics and imagery.

See But Observe: closed starters, or ic posts not meant to be reblogged.

Hear But Listen: open starters.

[Mouth of Truth]: OOC informational posts.

Secretive Sorcerer: Darius, @/amithemagic.

[drama-glob]

in my version of once upon a studio, here are the characters that will be featured: charlie, vaggie, alastor, angel dust, niffty, husk, fat nuggets, keekee, sir pentious, lucifer, lilith, valentino, vox, velvette, katie killjoy, tom trench, Crymini, cherri bomb, baxter, adam, lute, rosie, razzle, dazzle, the egg bois, blitzo, moxxie, millie, loona, stolas, stella, octavia, andrealphus, striker, asmodeus, fizzarolli, cletus, keenie, collin, verosika, vortex, beelzebub, crimson, chazwick thurman, (he is alive in this AU) deerie, bombproof (striker's horse), barbie wire, sallie may, molly, giovanni, sylvester ashling, mera, indus, percival king, ramsey, zora, howdy morning, yoomtah zing, phoenica, trixie, martin, lorelai, naven, Moot Tarbella AKA the cloaked bliss ocean member, flamethrower, car crash, ben, crusher, spike, dark star, stink, stonk, mushroom girl, molly's classmates, rick shades ,kira, rue, quinn, piper, warren, regan, clodagh, drain, rocky, Calvin "Freckle" Allen McMurray, ivy, mitzi may, Dorian "Zib" Zibowski, viktor, sedgewick sable, mordecai, serafine, nicodeme, asa sweet, uzi, khan, thad, doll, lizzy, N, V, cyn, alice, J, beau, thad, lumi, siona, davin, felicity, mika, holden, hala, elios, and void. what do you think? :)

That sounds epic in all honesty and I'd laugh if we get to see characters that want each others dead trying to duke it out while others try to keep the peace. ;) XD

[shaywrites-ifs]

RO reactions to the MC falling asleep while resting their head on their shoulder?

Thank you so much! Such a fluffy ask, hopefully I can deliver. Did it for the crushing stage!

Velan

Perhaps the most telling is that Velan notices the MC falling asleep well before the weight of them jostles him. His red eyes trailing over and memorizing the MCs expression as it softens and relaxes. It wouldn't take too much to shift the MC, making sure they were both comfortable. Their weight a comfort as he gently held them. The way he wants to stare at them, the way he focuses, the way they send his heart racing- he can only attempt to hold them closer without waking them. In all honesty, will fall asleep himself with a smile on his face.

Halina

She's likely working on something as she sits with the MC and trails off midsentence when she glances over to find the MC leaning agianst her shoulder, sleeping soundly. Halina momentarily forgets about what she had been doing, eyes wide and a tiny smile on her face as she takes the MC in. It makes her heart stutter a bit and oh- she wants to touch. But as she reaches, a scared voice in the back of her head reminds her what it feels like to lose everything. What it means to have something to lose. MC wakes up alone, with a blanket over them, and can except a gentle but stern lecture later about getting proper rest.

Sybille

Pretending that most MCs won't squish her if they just lay on her- Sybille.exe stops working as soon as she fully realizes what happens. Her runes start glowing in her embrassasment and she struggles between needing to be perfectly still so as to not jostle the MC and to fidget in some small way because what does she do?! Can't help but keep glancing at the MC, but that just makes her feel even more embarrassed or overwhelmed. She's too warm and it really just makes her want to cover her face. Would likely flee as soon as the MC was off of her, but best believe she'd replay it in her mind for weeks.

Elio

Elio is definietly working on something when he realizes there is a weight against him, solid and warm. He turns without thinking and then is breathless to see the MC resting against him, trusting and soft suddenly. He is not somebody turn to for comfort, he is not warm and welcoming. Elio has no idea what to do with this- with an MC that trusts him and finds a willingness to touch him so. He can't help to pretend, for just a moment, that this meant something. That this was something special for him, that he could reach out and trace their cheek, to press a kiss to the top of their head, that this was his. And then he'd slip away without looking back.

Meline

She freezes before a smile grows on her face. It would be unexpected and still completely send her heart hammering. She'd be torn between being more observant, ready to shoo people away or make sure the MC was safe and comfortable and dote on them. She'd be so gentle, carefully pushing back the MCs hair or smoothing their brow when the dreams got a little heavy. Though, honestly, she'd eventually feel the need to do something but would only leave the MC in the comfiest of positions, and ready to make a teasing remark or two the next time she saw them.

Lior

Lior looks like the cat that caught the canary. He's so impossibly pleased by this turn of events. Lior is a bit surprised, though, to find somebody relaxing around him, but he's happy to embrace this. And the MC. He's completely content to rest there, cooing over the MC and shooing away anybody with hissed whipsers and dramtic threats, basking in the glory that is his little fascination and darling current little love cuddling with him. Will not let the MC live it down, however, and they can absolutely expect some teasing when they wake up. Whether the MC wakes embarrassed or equally smug, it'd be a win for Lior.

[elizabethsharmon]

The Moon Song

So that leaves one more possibility. Eliott takes a deep breath and thinks now or never. And so he jumps to the unknown and asks, “Is it about me? About us?”

And when Lucas lets out a choked sob, tears rapidly falling from his eyes, Eliott crashes into the sea, hitting the rocks at the bottom.

Eliott could feel something was wrong. How something has suddenly shifted between them after that trip to Basile’s grandpa’s house, not so obvious at the first sight but still there nevertheless. How his smile isn’t nearly as bright as usual, how it isn’t really reaching his eyes. Just a forced tight lipped smile from time to time. How he isn’t laughing as much anymore, or barely at all, how quiet the flat is without his laugh echoing through it all the time. Just a small chuckle whenever Eliott is trying to joke to make him laugh. How his eyes are missing their usual spark. Just the hollow depth of the ocean, one that doesn’t make Eliott nearly as excited to want to drown in it. How he’s giving up his act whenever he thinks Eliott isn’t looking, shoulders hunched, empty looks, overall sadness. How his insomnia seems to have come back, how he tosses around in bed most nights, only to give up and start walking around their small flat, wood creaking quietly under his feet, silent noises coming up from the kitchen. How Eliott always finds him an hour or two later, fast asleep on the couch and carries him back to bed, how Lucas clings extra tight to him in his sleep then, as if he was afraid Eliott would let go of him.

He tries not to dwell on it for too long, waiting for the gloomy mood to pass, even though seeing Lucas like that, always so lively and everywhere and now quiet and blue, is killing him. He tries to blame it all on the bac and school stress, this dread of everything ending and not knowing what to do next. He can relate to it, too, after all.

But then again, his mind is constantly drifting back to that one Saturday back at the end of February when Arthur was staying over. How he woke up early to go to an abandoned building on the other side of the city, leaving Lucas a note he’s going out to take some photos for his project in case he would wake up before his return. How Eliott kissed him when he came back and found them talking in the living room, how he went to the bakery a moment later to give them some more time to talk. How later that night, when Lucas was in the kitchen cooking dinner and singing off key to some song on the radio, his phone buzzed on the coffee table and Eliott glanced at it and saw the message on the home screen. Not that he wanted to, he just happened to look in this direction and he read it unconsciously. Thanks for listening, I really needed this. And talk to Eliott. He will understand. How Lucas came into the living room a moment later, carrying two bowls of pasta, how he unlocked his phone, read Arthur’s message, his eyebrows furrowing momentarily, only to shake his head lightly and put the phone away. How he looked at Eliott, smiling slightly and asked if they’re watching the film he brought from work or not. How later, that night, Eliott couldn’t fall asleep until the sun started to rise, how it crept to the darkest corners of his mind that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t school that was making Lucas so sad. But that it was him.

And he wants to talk to him about it, he really does. He wants to hold him close, wrap his arms around him and ask him if everything is okay, if they are okay. But he also wants to give him some space, to give him some time, hoping that when Lucas is ready, he will tell him himself what’s on his mind these days. So he lets it be.

The thing is, you see, that feelings are like a dam and sometimes the water is too turbulent and overflowing that the dam breaks and you can’t pretend anymore, you have to swim to the shore before the stream takes over and drowns you.

And that’s how Eliott finds Lucas when he silently sneaks into the bed one morning after he woke up early to buy fresh pastries for breakfast. And when he curls his arms around Lucas’ chest and presses a quick kiss to his cheek, he feels how wet it is, notices how his chin is wobbling, how his jaw is clenched, how hard he’s closing his eyes, how he’s grasping the bed sheet with his fists, trying to pretend he’s still asleep, hoping that Eliott won’t notice. And the sight of him like that breaks his heart.

He reaches over to hold his hand, Lucas involuntarily letting him, Eliott’s lips brushing the skin on the back of his neck, trying to calm him down, trying to say I’m here, it’s okay, everything is okay . And when he feels Lucas’ muscles finally relax under his touch, he lightly turns him over so they’re facing each other now. His face is pale, eyes bloodshot and eyelids a little bit swollen, parched skin underneath them. He keeps his eyes fixed on Eliott’s chest, only briefly looking up when Eliott bumps their noses and whispers a soft hey .

The silence fills the room, only the sound of their breathing cutting through. And after a moment, when Lucas’ chin wobbles again and a single tear falls down his chin, Eliott traces it with his thumb and asks, “Are you okay?”

But Lucas only shuts his eyes, another tear escaping through his closed eyelids. Eliott feels like he’s on a cliff, looking at the never-ending firmament, the sound of waves crashing down audible in the distance, a violent breeze pushing him to the edge.

“Is it about school?” he asks again, squeezing Lucas’ hand along the way. “I know how hard the last year can be with the exams and everything and—”

“No.” His voice is watery and he whispers so quietly that if Eliott wasn’t so close he wouldn’t hear it at all.

“Okay… is it about your mom?” he asks, taking a step to the edge of the cliff, brushing Lucas’ hair back from where they fell on his forehead.

“No.” He tries to breathe but it comes out as a shudder.

So that leaves one more possibility. Eliott takes a deep breath and thinks now or never. And so he jumps to the unknown and asks, “Is it about me? About us?”

And when Lucas lets out a choked sob, tears rapidly falling from his eyes, Eliott crashes into the sea, hitting the rocks at the bottom.

He takes him in his arms, sitting up a little bit, just enough to lean against the headboard to make it easier for Lucas to breathe, when violent sobs ripple through his body, making it difficult to catch a breath. He holds him tight, one of his hands rubbing a soothing hand down his back, the other in his hair, brushing through it with his fingers. Lucas pulls him closer, grasping at his t-shirt with his both hands, his face on Eliott’s chest, leaving wet spots from where it lies.

Eliott holds him tight, whispering shhh and it’s okay and I’m here, Lucas, I’m here and kissing his forehead from time to time. He hopes Lucas can’t hear how fast his heart is beating from where he’s laying on his chest, but he must, surely he must.

But they get through it, the hiccupping becomes less and less frequent, the tears stop falling, his breathing gets more even, his body slumped, weakened, tired from the crying. They breathe together in the silence of the room, the sunlight barging inside through the closed curtains, until finally, when it seems like the worst is over, Eliott quietly asks, “do you want to talk about it?”

Lucas fidgets in his arms, shaking lightly, and burrows his face even deeper in Eliott’s t-shirt. “imscaredyoullleaveme,” he mumbles something unintelligible in his chest.

“Can you say it again, baby? I can’t hear you like this.”

Lucas stays silent for another minute and Eliott begins to think that perhaps he’s fallen asleep, but then, he’s leaving Eliott’s embrace and sitting in front of him. He looks at his lap, picking a thin thread on his sweats and when he’s ready, he looks up, his eyes even more bloodshot than before, and with a shaky breath and brutal honesty says, “I am scared you will leave me.”

And just like that, Eliott’s world turns on its axis.

“I— I would never, Lucas, why— what—,” he closes his eyes and takes another deep breath, mentally giving himself a pep talk and hoping that his brain will take the gist and let him form an actual, coherent sentence. Lucas looks at his lap again, looking so small and defeated, like he just wants to get it over with and leave. And Eliott can’t have that. He lifts Lucas’ chin with his fingers, forcing him to look at him and his eyes are big, and sad, and so blue, and Eliott just wants to hold him and take care of him for the rest of his life. For as long as Lucas lets him. “I am never going to leave you, Lucas, okay? I’m here for the long run.”

“You can’t say that,” he says quietly, sadly.

“What?”

“You can’t say that you will never leave. You can’t say that. You…” he takes a breath and looks up to the ceiling, trying to keep his feelings at bay, “don’t make promises you can’t keep. People always leave.”

Eliott shakes his head, the pain in his chest growing stronger with every word Lucas says. “Not me. I will never leave.”

“Someone better might come along though. And then you’ll leave.”

“I will never leave you, Lucas.” But he still doesn’t look back at him, his eyes transfixed on a suspicious spot on the ceiling and Eliott can’t have that. He takes his hands in his own, interlaces their fingers and squeezes once, and twice, and pleads, “hey, talk to me, please. Where is this all coming from?”

Lucas sniffles and looks down at their hands, musters up his courage and finally looks back at him again. “You left Lucille for me. You might leave me for someone else. It happened once. It can happen again.”

His words stab Eliott right in the heart, he firmly shakes his head and huffs, “it’s not the same, Lucas. You are not Lucille. This is not going to happen to us.”

“It might.”

“But it won’t,” he assures him.

But Lucas doesn’t seem to believe him, his chin up, his eyes challenging him, “You don’t know that. Humans are never satisfied. You said it yourself.”

“What? When did I say that?” Eliott quizzes him, brows furrowing, trying to remember.

“When we came back from the farm?” Lucas provides. “When we were talking about Arthur’s father cheating? You said that you cheated on Lucille with me. And that humans are never satisfied.”

“But Lucas, I wasn’t talking about me! Or us! I meant it in general, like society, some people, not me.”

“You don’t understand it, do you?” Lucas asks.

“What? What don’t I understand?”

“That you’re… you’re you. And I’m me. I’m just me.”

“And I love you, Lucas. I love you more than you can imagine, fuck, I love you so much that I can barely breathe sometimes—”

“No but… Just look at yourself!” he huffs annoyed, waving a hand in the air in front of him, “You just walk around looking like that , being you , so smart and talented and so passionate about life and art and everything, and people want to be with you or… or be you, and some probably want to be with you and be you at the same time! You’re like the sun, Eliott, don’t you get it?”

“And you’re like the sun to me, Lucas, is it so hard to understand?” he questions.

“No, I’m not.” he shuts him down. “I’m not the sun, I can’t be. I’m just me. You’re the sun, Eliott, with your hair, and your blinding, sunshine smile, and your personality, with your everything.”

And it’s futile to fight with him, isn’t it? Because no matter what he says, Lucas will always try to have it his way. So Eliott lets him win.

“Fine. I’m the sun. Burning people when they get too close.” he can see Lucas opening his mouth to interrupt him, but he continues, not letting him get in the way. “But you… you’re the moon, Lucas. Orbiting around me, always there whenever I need you, complementing me, always there providing the light whenever I’m in the dark.” Lucas stares at him with mouth agape, star-struck, “No. You know what?” Eliott carries on, “You’re like a constellation of stars. Shining brightly on the night’s sky, a welcoming, comforting presence. You’re my Polaris, Lucas, guiding me whenever I’m lost.” Lucas’ thumb is suddenly on Eliott’s cheek, brushing away the tears that fell from his eyes. He didn’t even realize he started crying. That they both did. He leans into Lucas’ touch and looks into his glassy eyes, “You’re like a galaxy to me. You’re my whole universe, Lucas. And I pick you. I choose you. I love you. You’re not a stop along the way, you’re my final destination, Lucas. Don’t forget that.”

And then, like a wave crashing into the shore, Lucas falls into his arms again, hugging him tightly, and whispering “I love you.” And Eliott whispers back, “I love you, too. So, so much,” and right after that, he repeats, “please never forget that.”

They stay in the tight embrace for a while, just breathing each other in, two broken boys, insecure and so afraid of hurting each other, of living through another heartbreak. And then, all there’s left unspoken, they tell each other in a way they kiss, languidly, their bodies leaning close. And when they part, foreheads still touching, Eliott asks “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could see that something was bugging you, you know. But I thought it’s just school. Or more like I hoped it’s school…” he adds on a quieter note.

He shrugs, playing with the hem of Eliott’s t-shirt. “I didn’t want you to think like I depend too much on you, that I need to be coddled all the time. I thought that if I stay quiet and don’t say anything, it will go away. But it didn’t and… I don’t know. I just didn’t.”

Eliott nods, brushing the strand of Lucas’ hair that’s fallen on his forehead, “You can always talk to me, okay? Remember that I’m here for you. Always.”

“But you’re not.” he says timidly.

Eliott’s hand falls down to his lap, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not here. That’s the thing.”

“I know, I know that we didn’t spend much time together lately, it’s just that with classes and work, I—”

“Except that you’re not.” He sees a confused look on Eliott’s face, takes a deep breath and explains. “You’re not working. Or at least you weren’t. Last Friday? I finished studying with Imane late and I texted you? You said your shift is gonna take longer cause you have to go through the inventory. And I just… I don’t know. I didn’t want to go back to an empty flat again and I thought that you could use a hand and maybe if I helped you it would go faster and that you’re probably starving there so I got us takeaway pizza and went to video club. But you weren’t there. Your coworker said that you switched shifts. So I… I got back home. Thinking that maybe I mixed something up, that maybe you’re at home already or something. But you weren’t here.”

Eliott remembers the texts, remembers how he came back home from the urbex party way past midnight, sneaking into the bed and wrapping his arms around Lucas, how he stiffened then and asked him “how was work?” and how Eliott said “fine, but tiring” and “I missed you” and how Lucas just hummed and didn’t say it back. How Eliott woke up the next morning, alone, cold sheet’s on Lucas’ side of the bed. “I’m spending a day with the guys today. I’ll be back late, don’t wait for me,” a note pinned to the fridge said.

And all the pieces fit together now, don’t they? Lucas’ insomnia, abandonment issues, his fear of Eliott leaving him… Everything because he was too scared of giving away another part of himself. And so he didn’t.

Lucas starts fidgeting in place, anxiously looking away, and Eliott realizes he’s been silent for too long, so he asks, “Why didn’t you say anything? You knew I was lying… why didn’t you say something?”

Lucas shrugs again “Because I didn’t want you to think I’m controlling you, I just… really went there by accident.” Eliott nods and squeezes his hand, saying I know , “I wanted to give you space and I… you don’t have to tell me where you were, but please, Eliott, please don’t lie to me. Not now… not like that, just… please don’t.”

And that’s it, isn’t it? He kept it hidden for so long, he didn’t even know why. It was stupid to do this in the first place but then he started drowning and it was more and more difficult to swim up and keep afloat, so he let himself go down and stay there. Kidding himself that maybe Lucas won’t notice. He was only going there before or after classes when he was in school or at nights when Lucas was partying with the guys anyway. But he did, of course he did. It’s Lucas after all.

He exhales the breath he didn’t know he was holding and swims up to the surface. “Please, just don’t be mad at me.”

“I don’t want you to tell me like that. I don’t want you to feel like you’re forced to tell me now.” Lucas quickly adds but Eliott just shakes his head.

“I want to tell you. I really do, just… promise me you won’t be mad at me.”

Lucas looks him up and down, thinking about it for a moment. But then he nods and says, “Okay. I promise”

“Remember that place I took you and the guys and Alexia to? Where we had the party later?” Lucas nods again, eyeing him curiously. “I… I’ve been going to abandoned buildings like that for some. It’s called urbex,” he explains, “it’s about exploring places abandoned by society and left completely unused until they turn into those modern ruins. There’s like a whole community of people doing it, it became kinda a thing in the past couple of years.” He stops his ramble, giving Lucas time to process the information.

“How… For how long have you been doing that?” He asks the inevitable.

Eliott closes his eyes. He was afraid of this question, even though he knew it was coming. But he doesn’t have a choice, does he? Lucas can see right through his bullshit, he always could and he doesn’t deserve to be lied to. So he swallows and tells him the hard truth, “Since I started uni?” He peeks one eye at Lucas and he can’t help but notice the hurt look on his face. Fuck. “Student’s union hosted a party at one of the urbex locations and I just… I don’t know. I liked it. A lot. I started researching stuff about it and I found some places around Paris like that and I went there and then I just… got into it and started finding places on my own.” He shrugs, “I know it’s stupid—”

“It’s not.” Lucas cuts in. “It’s not stupid if you like it. And you do. Don’t you?” He smiles at him and Eliott smiles back.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“See? It’s not stupid. Okay, so tell me more. You just go there or…?” He leaves the sentence unfinished, letting Eliott take over.

“Yeah. Usually, yeah. You know, there’s no real point to it. Like… it’s not like running a marathon, you don’t get a medal because you managed to get in some place. And you don’t do this for others anyway. It’s more about proving yourself that you can do this.” He rambles, but Lucas just nods, understanding what he means either way. “It’s kinda like climbing, if you think about it. You prepare for an expedition, you go there and you reach the summit.”

“And those other people… this community? You do this with them?”

“No. I do this on my own. Sometimes I bump into someone when I’m out, but not that often. We meet from time to time though at urbex parties. It’s fun, and you know, it’s a great opportunity to share experiences and find out about new places or get some tips on how to access some spots and stuff like that.”

Lucas hums. “And last Friday… you were at one of those parties?”

“Yeah. At an abandoned racecourse.” He says, pensively, dreading Lucas’ reaction.

But he just nods again,“Okay… but how do people know that you were there? Like, you said it’s kinda like climbing, right?” Eliott nods. “So when climbers reach the summit, they leave something there for others to find, right? So they wouldn’t be considered a fraud.”

“Yeah, but you know, you don’t really do this for others, you only do it for yourself.” Eliott explains. “But yeah, it’s kinda the same. Some people don’t care about this so they just go and leave and you have to trust their word or don’t. Others take photos and post them somewhere to prove they were there, some leave something for others, like a tag or something.”

“And you?” Lucas questions, “What do you do?”

Eliott can’t help but grin at this question. “Wait, I’ll show you” he gets up to get his phone from the pocket of his jeans that he discarded earlier on the floor and plops down on the bed, browsing through the gallery already. When he finds the photo he was looking for, he gives the phone to Lucas and waits for his reaction with anticipation.

Lucas looks at it, back at Eliott, back at the phone, and laughs loudly and Eliott can feel his smile growing wider now. “A raccoon. Of course it is. Why am I even surprised?” Lucas laughs.

“Hey, it’s not a raccoon!” Eliott corrects him. “I mean, okay, it is, but look closely.”

“Okay, I’m looking…” Lucas huffs amusedly. “Am I supposed to see something specific though?”

Eliott takes his phone back and holds it so both of them can see the screen. “Here,” he points to the left side of the picture, “that’s a raccoon.”

“Yes, I can see that, Eliott. Are you telling me that the other side is something else?”

“Of course it is, Lucas. Look!” Lucas squints and scratches his head but just looks at Eliott incredulously, so he gives up and tells him, “that’s a raccoon. And that,” he points to the right side, “is a hedgehog.”

Lucas’ eyes widen and he stares at Eliott for a moment with his mouth open. He collects himself after a moment and looks at the phone again.

“A spike, right here.” Eliott points to it with his finger. “Can you see it now?”

“But… but why?”

Eliott shrugs. “Because this way you’re always with me, even when you’re not.”

The silence is charged, something shifting in the atmosphere between them, and then Lucas speaks up again.

“Okay, so… you go there, you tag the place, and others know that you were there. You’re like some secret badass street artist. You’re like Banksy but you know. French edition. More hot, with better hair, too short jeans and going to far dirtier places.”

Eliott chuckles, “You don’t know if I look better than Banksy, you haven’t seen them.”

“Well, let’s just say that I have wild imagination and if someone’s not showing their face to anyone, then they definitely can’t be hotter than my boyfriend.” Lucas wiggles his eyebrows and Eliott blushes. “So? Do you have a nickname?” Eliott can feel his face growing hotter and Lucas notices it immediately, if the way he smiles widely is anything to go by. “Oh. My. God. You totally have a nickname. It’s your alter ego, you have to have a nickname.” Eliott groans and tries to hide his face in his hands but Lucas is faster and reaches over before he can. “Come oooon, Eliott, tell me, pleeeeaaaase.”

And well, Eliott is only human. So no one can really blame him that it takes him one look into Lucas’ puppy dog pleading eyes and he gives in. “But you won’t laugh?”

“I won’t,” he crosses his fingers over his heart but Eliott knows it’s all for nothing.

“It’s Otteli.” He says silently.

Lucas just blinks at him and then he’s laughing, “I’m sorry, it’s what?”

“Otteli.” He rolls his eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but he can’t really be mad at Lucas, can he? Not when he laughs like that, so beautifully, in a way that Eliott’s been craving to hear for months.

“You really used all your brain cells on srodulv, didn’t you?” Lucas teases and Eliott rolls his eyes again.

“It’s not like that. It’s kinda your fault, you know?”

“My fault?” He asks taken aback.

“Remember last year when we went out with guys and girls to get drunk and say goodbye to the summer before the school year began?” Lucas nods. “And how you and the guys got totally wasted?” He nods again. “And how you started switching syllables of every single word you were saying and how you were laughing cause you thought you’re so funny?” Eliott smirks when he sees a hinge of embarrassment on Lucas’ face. “We got back home but you wouldn’t stop doing that and I tucked you in bed and you said ‘goodnight, Otelli’ and I don’t know,” he shrugs, “I just liked it. And it reminded me of you. And it sounds similar to Othello and Shakespearean tragedy is always relatable so… yeah.” He squirms under Lucas’ scrutinized gaze.

And then, there’s Lucas, getting into his space, putting both of his hands on Eliott’s shoulders, his own hands immediately finding their place on Lucas’ hips. Lucas kisses him on the cheek, his mouth lingering there for a brief moment and then he looks up, his eyes half-lidded and teases. “Well, I like it. Makes me feel important.”

“You are.” Eliott’s hands roam around his back, pulling him closer. “You are important. To me, you’re the most important person in my life.”

Lucas smiles and lies down, Eliott wrapping his arms around him in a tight embrace. They lie like this for a while, Lucas gently tracing the skin on Eliott’s firearms with his fingers, and then he shifts slightly, so he can look at Eliott asks another scary question, “Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, worrying his lips between his teeth. “At the beginning I just wanted to keep it to myself, I didn’t want to make a huge deal out of it. And it’s stupid but I just had this voice in my head, Lucille’s voice, saying that it’s my another whim. And when I started to dig deeper and get really into it, this voice got louder and louder and it took me a while to get rid of it, you know? And then I didn’t want to worry you cause you have enough stress with school and life and me and I didn’t want to add this on top of things. Cause you know… this is not exactly legal? And like… not completely safe? I mean, it’s also not that dangerous and I know what I’m doing and I’m being careful and just…” he quickly adds, but Lucas just nods, understanding visible in his eyes, giving Eliott the strength to keep going. “And then… and then I wanted to tell you because I felt bad about hiding it but I just kept thinking that I was hiding it for so long and that you will get mad and think that I don’t trust you, and I do, Lucas, I trust you with my life and you know me by heart and—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Lucas’ hands are suddenly cupping is face, tilting his chin up so he can look into his eyes. “Just breathe. It’s okay. Everything is okay. I’m not mad at you. Yeah, I wish you told me sooner, but I understand it. I really do. And it’s not like I wasn’t hiding things from you either. So… it looks like we both have some things to work on. Like you know. Communication. And stuff.”

“Oh yeah. And stuff.” Eliott laughs, putting his hands on top of Lucas’.

“But hey… we’re fine, right? Or we will be?” Lucas asks and Eliott hates the bit of insecurity he can hear in his voice.

He closes the distance between them and pecks him on the lips, one, two, three, four times, and says, firmly, strongly, surely. “We are. And we will be.”

And the sun shines outside, but here, in a tiny flat in the heart of Paris, they lay like this, limbs tangled, hands intertwined, eyes closing, both exhausted from the emotionally charged morning. But something feels unfinished so before the drowsiness takes over, Eliott has one more thing to do.

“Lucas?”

“Mhm?"

“There’s another urbex party next Friday. Would you like to go with me?”

Lucas shifts his head slightly from where it’s laying on top Eliott’s chest to look at him. “You want me to go with you?”

“Yeah. I’d like that. I’d like you to see it for yourself. You don’t have to of course if you don’t want to or don’t have time or don’t feel like it, I won’t be mad if you don’t, but—”

“Hey,” Lucas interrupts his ramble, smiling at him, “I’d love to go with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he smiles and Eliott’s heart does somersaults in his chest.

“Okay. It’s a date then.”

“Oh a date, Mr. Demaury?” Lucas teases, his eyes glistening with joy.

“Yes, that’s right. How about I pick you up from school, we’ll go and grab something to eat and go see a movie? And then we’ll go to that party? How does it sound?” He asks.

“Sounds like a date.” Lucas smirks.

“Then it’s a date.”

“It’s a date.”

And then, they fall asleep like that, holding each other, breathing in, feeling light and hopeful, after months of keeping things in, the pastries long forgotten on the kitchen counter. But it doesn’t matter, mundane things don’t matter when they’re together because that’s some cosmic thing, isn’t it? A love like theirs.

And then, next week, they go for dinner and a movie, and Eliott takes Lucas to an urbex party. He glances at him constantly, checking his reaction, and Lucas just stares star-struck, mouth agape, and when Eliott asks “What do you think?”, he says “It’s amazing. I love it.”

And then, suddenly there are people all around them, there’s this overexcited girl, Jo, if Eliott remembers her name correctly from the last time, asking “oh my god are you Lucas? The Lucas?” and when Lucas nods confused but going along, she almost jumps on him, hugging him tight.

And then, there are others coming over, high fiving Lucas and saying “it’s so great to finally meet you, man” and Lucas looks at Eliott puzzled but Eliott just shrugs and laughs and pulls him in for a kiss, a small crowd around them cheering immediately.

And then, there are people asking Eliott about his escapades, and he answers them excitedly, glancing from time to time at Lucas, standing always by his side, a proud look on his face.

And then, Eliott shows him around, telling him about the history of this place, showing him the street art, his tag among them, taking out the template and spray paint from his backpack and asking Lucas “do you want to do it together?”

And then, on their way home, Lucas teases Eliott mercilessly because “why didn’t you tell me you’re a celebrity?” and “wait, if you’re an urbex king then what does that make me?”

And then, when they come back home, a giggling mess, stumbling in the hallway, chasing each other's mouth, Lucas whispers "wait, I have an idea" against Eliott's lips, and takes his template again, along with the blue and orange paint and leaves a tag above their bed, a raccoon and a hedgehog intertwined, their very own dream catcher, looking after them.

And then, a week later, Eliott buys gold and silver paint and paints the sun and the moon and the stars next to them, so they would never get lost in the dark again.

[eirlys-jane]

Day twenty-five - share some of your favourite MCs from other books.

Assuming this means books other people have written, I’ll go with that.

Elio Perlman from Call Me By Your Name by Andre Aciman. Elio just incorporates everything I desire in a character, and many of the same traits i myself carry. He loves music and literature, both things I’m very passionate about, he is intelligent and introverted, two of the most valuable things I think a person can have, but most importantly, its the way he feels that makes me love him as a main character. He doesn’t feel or he feels too hard, and in all honesty, he only really feels for Oliver, everyone else is completely useless to him for lack of a better word. He doesn’t see the value in feeling things for people he doesn’t love with all of his heart, and that is the way I think it should be. Literature and music make him feel more than people can, until Oliver came along. And though I don’t believe in love in my own life, I think that Elio is the perfect embodiment of what it means to love wholly. 

Charlie from The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky. He’s been through so much, and he is such a complex character. Reading his inner thoughts is so provocative and I just think that Charlie is the incarnation of everything good in the world. He’s the perfect character. 

Jo and Amy March from Little Women and Good Wives by Louisa May Alcott. I appreciate Jo’s intellect and her entire character, whereas I see so much of myself in Amy. Her shrewd nature and her strong opinions, her willingness to wait foe the right thing to come along. They’re both so incredibly written and so strong, both displaying different traits that should be seen more in women, portraying them in a good light instead of morphing good traits to make a female character seem like a villain. Alcott’s portrayal of strong female characters for her time is absolutely ground-breaking. 

Dorian Gray from The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. This is more of a wild card, because he is a really morally grey character, but I appreciate his shrewd and his cunning and everything he goes through to keep his reputation in tact. It is rather admirable, making him a great main character. 

Will Traynor from Me Before You by Jojo Moyes. Yes, I’m aware that technically Lou is the main character in this trilogy, but Will is such a main character in the first book that I wouldn’t feel right for leaving him out, especially with his special place in my heart. He is such a clever person with all of the right traits and the right priorities. Will is the only kind of person I can see myself ever falling in love with, and the fact that he gives life ago and takes that risk is what makes him such an incredible character. 

Will Newman and Stella Grant from Five Feet Apart by Rachel Lippincott. This is one of my favourite books, and being able to read the same situation from both of their perspectives gives one a chance to explore their true thoughts and feelings, both processes I can understand in different ways. They’re both so well formed and yet so flawed at the same time, and myself having chronic illnesses, It was so lovely to finally see some quality representation of chronically ill people, honest representations that show everything bad, and two main characters? They’re wonderful. 

Elizabeth Bennett from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. Cliché, I know, but I honestly think that Elizabeth Bennett is the perfect female character. Every morning I ask myself WWEBD? And it helps me get through my day at school with perverted imbecilic teenagers. And I’m not even talking about boys, since I’m at a girls school. I think she’s just the best protagonist ever written, because she represents everything wholly, the perfect dimensions of everything, making her so complicated, yet that’s what makes her so brilliant. 

Hey, notice a pattern here? I tend to like lots of the same main characters, these are the ones that annoy me the least. Whenever a main character begins to annoy me, I just kind of shut them out. And most are men though I can’t quite put my finger on why. I like characters I can relate to, which is why I like my characters, since I base them on myself and it’s rather difficult to find female main characters who struggle with actual emotions. Not all women are socially adept, and I don’t know why only male characters are written as introverts who hate feeling things. However, I’ve only really been a reader for a year, so hopefully I’ll read more books in the upcoming months that will put some more female characters on pedestals for me. 

[snickiebear]

🖊 a character you dont talk about enough in FOSAB that deserves some attention

HI JAY! okay let's talk about the Soulshifters >:)

So in the FOSAB world there are three branches of Shifters:

Soulshifters are shifters that are designated an animal form at birth and can shift into that form whenever they want. The animal form has nothing to do with genes and everything to do with fate.

Boneshifters, shifters with the ability to shift into anything or anyone. If they have seen them, they can shift. Boneshifters are the most known shifters and most likely thieves or tricksters. Or, at least that's how the story goes.

And finally, Wereshifters are those who can only shift into their inherited animal form on full moons. Your form all depends on genes: if your mother is a lion and your father a tiger, then you are either of those. The moon is important, sacred for many reasons but Wereshifters hate it with a passion.

Now, Shifters in general have been hunted and almost extinct in Anamel (kingdom) and don't really exist in any other places in Arelia (contient). Though, many have migrated and escaped across the seas...

Now though, there is a group of Soulshifters that secretly inhabit Dream Forest (the ever growing forest in the middle of Arelia, kind of separating the three kingdoms: Anamel, Kishadore, and Levanda). And in that group are three of my favorite characters: Hikota, Elio, and Alaric.

Hikota is my resident Lovable Bitch. She is a badass with a silver tongue and is meanmeanmean. She's all bark and bite and the Soulshifter's best hunter: a master with a bow and arrow. She never misses. The ironic part is that her animal form is a hare, so its a bit of a running joke between the whole group.

She is blonde, brown eyed, short, muscled, and takes absolutely no shit. Hates outsiders, extremely protective, attack first and ask questions last type woman. Can you tell i'm absolutely in love with her? Now, a lot of readers might not like her because Hikota is a Bitch (and she embraces it) but man, i hope they get over themselves and see how great of a character she is. Yeah she's mean, but she loves so carefully and wholly that how can you NOT love her??

ELIO!!! My brown skinned, short, oranged-haired KING! He is sunshine incarnate and everyone is a little bit in love with him because of it. He is "short" for a man (about 5'7, which is an inch shorter than Hala) but he is JACKED and tattooed to the max, along with cool piercings in his ears. And get this: he wears his wedding ring as a lip ring because he's fucking cool like that

My beloved's animal form is a crow, but Elio is also a swordsman/warrior and loves freely and consumingly. Honestly, he could make friends with a tree (he has, they're best buds). Pretty sure everyone will love him and if they don't?? well.... [cue judgmental side eyeing]

Alaric is my frosty warrior turned healer. He and Elio are married and he wears his wedding ring as an earing, both ears heavy with jewels and gold. Tall, dark, handsome, and asian, Alaric comes off as a real asshole, but in all honesty he's socially awkward and emotionally stunted. Buts, he's really smart and is very versatile: can kill and heal in equal measures.

His animal form is a large white tiger that he likes to sleep in more often than not (Elio doesn't complain, he loves the heat). Literally he's such a fucking sweetheart (if you read carefully) and such a lovely character to write. Especially since i love grumpy characters LOL

the three of them are best of friends and their banter is so much fun to play around with, especially since the most dangerous one of them all is Elio, who is the least threatening. Their entire dynamic is just really funny to me: Two married men, one chronically grumpy, the other summer in person form, has a feral rabbit on a leash.

Like?? I love these idiots LOL

*just a note that Soulshifter's animal forms about about 2-3 times larger than the actual, normal animal.

[onethrills]

closed starter ft. @holylace​.

Looking at Elio differently has been something that it’s hard not to do. Shockingly little has changed about their relationship over-all, but there are still these moments when Hunny catches himself gazing at him like he means to see him undressed for him again. Even the residual feeling of his fangs digging into his neck throbs along with it, and he flits his lashes, thinking for a moment before he speaks. “How is your thirst today?” His tone makes it clear he expects some degree of honesty as an answer.

[silverscreenbitch]

cmbyn movie spoilers and discussion

So it’s been about 3 weeks since I saw the movie in NYC and I just NEED to talk about some scenes:

- I loved the apricot scene. We could tell exactly by Elio and Mrs. Perlmans’ facial expressions that Elio’s father used this as a test. I think this scene was particularly well executed by both Luca and Timothée. Instead of telling the audience what was going on Luca showed us which is very difficult to do especially when basing a movie on a very narrative heavy book. 

- OK next, the “bad allergy” scene. I just want to scream to the world how good an Oliver Armie is. Timothée is amazing and he deserves all of his praise but GOD Armie is so good and so underrated! He is the perfect Oliver in this scene. From his slight forcefulness in grabbing Elio’s hand to him knowing Elio is staring at his ass, he is so nonchalant and carefree which is so Oliver (at least from Elio’s perspective). 

- Another one of my favorites is Elio and Marzia’s first time. Again, Timothée is incredible as Elio but Esther also plays off both the confidence and innocence of Marzia extremely well. They have great chemistry and the relationship never came off as forced on screen, which was something I was worried about. I had originally thought that they might disregard Marzia but I think the movie gives her a more fulfilling story than the book does. They are both so sweet in this scene and the added touch of Elio finishing almost immediately was hilarious.

- That brings me to my point of how surprisingly funny this movie is. Elio is so caught up with himself in the book so it is so refreshing to see him laugh on screen and great to see him and the whole cast have so many funny lines. The part before the dinner party where he fights with his father about wearing the shirt was so funny! Michael Stuhlbarg is also hilarious in this scene. Elio and his little sliding dance moves were so cute and felt very very true to Elio in my opinion. 

Now onto more talked about scenes or leaked scenes;

- Oliver and Elio’s first time. I was not prepared for this scene. Their chemistry is INCREDIBLE, like Elio swinging from Oliver perfectly reflects the desire he’s feeling and never feels silly, it feels so overwhelmingly emotional. The slamming of the bedroom door was very funny too. Oliver asked if he can kiss Elio and his response “yes please” was so well played by Timmy. Timmy’s facial expressions in this scene o my god. When Oliver is kissing his neck and you can just see him start to become undone is SO sensual. The whole scene is so natural in that it never feels forced and you can see them grow more and more comfortable. Armie’s giant hands going up and down Timmy’s back was also an amazing touch that just oozed emotion. 

- So you all have seen so much shit about the peach scene and I feel as though there isn’t much praise I can add but it’s amazing. Timothée and Armie are so convincing in this scene that it’s hard to remember that you’re watching a movie. Also, the tone of it was perfect, it was so funny when Oliver asks “what did you do?” and then so heartbreaking when Elio breaks down into his arms. The pacing is so well done and feels completely natural.  

- OK so I want to talk about Bergamo. Right before they kiss in the alley, Timmy has such an expression of infatuation towards Oliver/Armie that I thought was some of his best acting in the whole film. He looks utterly breathless and maybe this is because he has such a great bond with Armie or maybe its something completely different but wow it’s so good. Also when Elio is sleeping and Oliver looks over at him with such a face of concern is so beautiful and completely lets us know exactly how Oliver feels (something we didn’t get in the book!). 

- Finally the goodbye scene. The hug between them at the train station is so heartbreaking and you can just tell neither of them wants to let go, it’s so emotional despite having pretty much no dialogue. I loved that Elio calls his mom, that was the only part that made me cry the two times I’ve seen the movie other than the closing credits. Elio/Timmy looking absolutely destroyed in the car is so so good and so well acted by Timmy (realize I say this about every scene lol). I really loved that we got to see such a developed relationship between Elio and his mother in the movie, it again made the movie feel very very real. Truly Elio crying in the car feels like it’s both Timmy and Elio being heartbroken that things are ending. Both Timmy and Armie being so involved in the movie and loving each other so much led to such honesty between them on screen. Good job Luca!

So yeah I love this movie and book please message me if you want to talk about either!!

[bhaalxbabe]

Alaina Lavellan (Companion)

Here it is !! No one asked for it but here it is !! It took me two days but Alaina was worth it ♥ if anyone wants to do it I got the template from here (and if you do it I want to see :’) )

Inquisitor’s Name: Alaina Lavellan

Nicknames: Lainie, Lanes

Race, Class, & Specialization: Elf, Rouge, Assassin

Varric’s Nickname for them: Doey (dough-we, like a doe)

Default Tarot Card: Queen of Wands

How they are recruited: After arriving at Skyhold, Dorian will mention to the Inquisitor that he had received a letter from an friend who is in need of assistance. If the Inquisitor accepts the request, they will meet with Asiel and Alaina at the Gnawed Noble Tavern in Denerim (only avaliable for that quest). Asiel will explain that he is a runaway magister-to-be from Tevinter and the Dalish elf with him, Alaina, is a friend he met along the way to Fereldan. The Inquisitor has the option of recruiting them in exchange for offering protection to Asiel and Alaina from his family and anyone his family sends or just simply declining to give them safe harbor.

Mini Bio: Alaina was born in Antiva City and lived a small but normal life with her parents. Her mother was a baker and her father was a florist. Although both of her parents had been city elves, they still worshiped the Elven Pantheon and tried to maintain much of their culture and language and passed all their knowledge onto Alaina.

When Alaina was eight years old, her parents were murdered by a group of humans who had been angered by her mother who had refused their advances earlier that day. With no family and being unable to provide for herself, she roamed Antiva City’s streets for a month, surviving by being stealthy, fast, and subtle. She was able to get by by steal most of her meals and conning her way into temporary shelter.

One day she was caught stealing from a Crow and instead of punishing her they recruited her to become one. Alaina stayed with the Crows, learning how to become an Assassin and became friends with the only other elf her House, Elio. When she and Elio were thirteen, they were about to finish their training when they decided they didn’t want to live the life of a Crow. They devised a plan to escape and executed it right before their ceremony. Unfortunately, they were caught and Elio sacrificed himself so Alaina could escape. She headed south and made it into the wilderness between Antiva and the Free Marches where she found by the Lavellan clan who had been passing.

She stayed with the Lavellan clan, and although she was happy and accepted she still felt like she truly didn’t belong. When she turned eighteen she choose Mythal as her personal deity for her vallaslin, and was greatly influenced by memories of her being her mother’s favorite deity. When Alaina was twenty she was out hunting when she found Asiel who had been gravely injured by mercenaries who had been sent to capture him and bring him back to Tevinter. Alaina and her clan took care of Asiel until he was fully healed and when it was time for him to leave, Alaina requested for him to take her with him.

Where they are in Skyhold: At the Herald’s Rest at the bar. (Depending on your choice after her personal quest) In the chair beside Bull.

Things they Generally Approve of: Snarky funny comments, helping anyone in need, supporting/defending elves, flirting with her, doing other inner circle quests, anytime you pick flowers (crystal grace, dawn lotus, etc.) ?? it’s like automatic approval and it’s like god Alaina shut up.

Things they Generally Disapprove of: being a meanie >:(, conscripting the mages or templars, hostility towards elves, racism towards any race tbh, with Alaina it’s really hard to gain her disapproval because she’s so neutral

Mages, Templars, Other?: Alaina doesn’t care which one you choose as long as you don’t force them to join the Inquisition and treat them like prisoners. However, if you have the Templars join she’ll approve but if you have the Mages join she’ll greatly approve

Friends in the Inquisition:

Blackwall: Alaina fully and completely believes that Blackwall is a warden despite the fact that a lot of his responses towards being a warden are so vague. Although she thinks they have a friendly relationship, Blackwall is not very fond of her due to her inquisitive nature and the fact that she’ll constantly ask him questions about being a warden, what he did before he was a warden, etc. so he often tries to avoid her.

Cassandra: Alaina loves Cass and can be often caught biting her lip as she stares at Cass’ arms because oh gosh those guns ??? ♥ Can she lift Alaina with those arms ?? She has a friendly relationship with Cass due to the fact that she is very pushy to spend time with her to get to know her. It also helps that Alaina is also a fan of Varric’s smutty romance novels.

Cole: Alaina is very friendly towards Cole and likes Cole but for the most part her dumbass has no idea what he’s talking about even though he might be mentioning her thoughts and feelings or others’ thoughts and feelings about her.

♦ Dorian: Alaina absolutely adores Dorian, and almost immediately considers him a close friend. She thinks he’s one of the most hilarious and charming people she’s ever met and loves listening to him and Asiel banter due to the fact they have a rival kind of relationship. She loves spending time with him in the library and although she isn’t very good at chess, she’ll play with him. Dorian absolutely loves the fact that Alaina makes her own oils and loves it even more that she makes him his own. Everyday she compliments his mustache at least once and everyday he compliments her hair at least one.

♥ ♦ Iron Bull: The first time Alaina meets Iron Bull she practically swoons. Oh gosh those arms ?? Do you work out ?? After the initial “holyshit he’s so hot” moment, she and Iron Bull are thick as thieves. Alaina loves Iron Bull because not only is he funny and likes to drink and party, but he often helps guide her in many aspects of her life. Iron Bull likes her also because she loves to drink and party, but also because gets amazingly along with the Chargers. It is implied she and Iron Bull have slept together, and if Iron Bull and the Inquisitor or Dorian are not in a relationship with him by What Pride Had Wrought, she and him form one. After What Pride Had Wrought, the Inquisitor can find a Necklace of Kadan equipped in her inventory.

Sera: Alaina likes Sera’s nature and the fact that she just wants to have fun and put things back to normal, because in all honesty so does Alaina. Often Sera will be begging Alaina to participate in pranks with her but the thought of making fun of someone, even if it’s not in a harmful way, makes Alaina want to cry.

♦ Solas: Alaina loves Solas and treats him like he’s a Hahren, drinking up all of the knowledge he can provide her. She can often be found lounging on the couch next to him, listening to his stories of the fade, his opinons on their current mission, previous historical events, and even elves, although he’s learned to be a bit more gentle about that subject with her. Solas also likes Alaina because she is so willing to listen and learn new things, and he loves how her opinion on elves isn’t too extreme due to the fact that not only is she Dalish, but she was born as a city elf so she understands both sides of the track. Solas also loves her kind and gentle nature and how she’s so idealistic, but he’s also afraid how idealistic and naive she is. He believes that something is going to happen to crush that point of view of hers and he’s not sure how he will react to his friend losing that part of her.

Varric: Varric often tells Alaina that she reminds him of his friend Merrill, and every time he says it she practically beams because she can see the fondness in his eyes. The two get along very well, Varric loves teaching Alaina how to play Wicked Grace because she’s just so bad at it and Alaina loves listening to all the stories Varric has to tell.

Vivienne: There has been so many times that Alaina has said that she wants to grow up to be just like Vivienne. She loves the strong and important aura Vivienne always presents and looks up to her almost like a mother figure. Vivienne in turn loves being that motherly figure for Alaina, because she is just so happy and adorable and loves listening to Vivienne. One thing, however, that irks Vivienne is Alaina’s fashion sense. By the Maker, how can that girl just run around Skyhold in an over-sized tunic?

Romanceable: Alaina is romanceable by any gender and any race. After the Inquisitor recruits her and Asiel, and after a couple of flirting options, a cutscene will trigger when you talk to her at the bar where she invites the Inquisitor to her room. The Inquisitor can accept and have sex with her, decline but continue to have romantic advances, or simply reject her all together. If the Inquisitor chooses one of the first two options, after that night Alaina will explain to the Inquisitor that it’s okay for them to have a casual relationship, and that she will not object to the Inquisitor sleeping and/or seeing someone else. It is not until after finishing her personal quest can the Inquisitor make the relationship official.

Small side mission (Sweet Smells): This quest is activated by going into the Undercroft after recruiting Alaina where the Inquisitor will find her sitting on the floor in the corner making oils and soap out of herbs, flowers, and fruit. The Inquisitor will then be given the quest Sweet Smells where they can collect flowers and fruit for Alaina to make her oils. If the Inquisitor completes the quest, it will turn out that it was an oil for the Inquisitor. ♥

Companion quest (At The Bottom of the Bottle):

The Inquisitor will wake up in the middle of the night due to some banging on their door. Opening it, they find Alaina giggling with an almost empty bottle of wine in her hand. She slides her way in, throwing her arms around the Inquisitor, blatently flirting, begging the Inquisitor to take her. The Inquisitor will set Alaina down, asking her what she’s doing. Instead she doesn’t respond and take another drink. The Inquisitor will then ask why is she so drunk and they are very confused because they’ve never seen her like this before. After enough pressing, Alaina eventually breaks down and starts sobbing, telling the Inquisitor she’s not sure how much longer she can take it all. She’s afraid, she’s weak, she’s confused, and she apologizes for feeling this way, because she knows there are others out there suffering more than she is right now. She’s supposed to be strong now, she’s had her suffering and she must learn how to move on but she feels like she can’t do it. She reaches for another drink...

  Option 1 (”It’s okay, Alaina.”): Stop her drinking and console her. Explain to her that it’s okay to be afraid and to have these feelings and that she doesn’t have to be strong all the time by putting on a face, especially if alcohol is something that is helping her do that. Instead she should rely on her friends, including the Inquisitor and trust that they will all be strong together.

Alaina will thank the Inquisitor and if they are in a romance she will tell them that one of her fears is that she loves them but she is unsure if they love her. The Inquisitor can either tell her that they love her back or simply tell her that they wish to be friends. If the Inquisitor chooses to continue their romance with her they will fall asleep together in the Inquisitor’s bed. If they remain friends, or were simply friends before, Alaina will pass out on their couch.

  Option 2 (”Grow up.”): Tell her to get over it and move on and the Inquisition has no time for tears.

Alaina will agree with the Inquisitor and quietly leave their room. The next day everything will seem fine and Alaina will be acting normal. However, throughout Skyhold there will be remarks made by everyone on Alaina’s health and her drinking habits, saying they often find her drunk at the bar. Alaina will then become incapacitated for the final battle due to being too drunk and a cut scene will trigger before then of Asiel yelling with tears in his eyes at Alaina that she has a drinking problem and that they need to fix it together.

Tarot card change

Option 1: Death

Option 2: The Moon

Romance: The Lovers

Cole’s reflection on their thoughts: “Pain. So much pain. But it’s better isn’t it? Better than before. Nothing could be as worst as it once was. I just need one more drink.”

Cole’s reflection on their thoughts if romanced: “You feel like home.”

Comment(s) on Mages: “I wish I had magic! I bet it’s nice to not struggle while making your campfires. New rule! All mages must make the campfires!” - Dorian (if in party): “New rule! Alaina must make all the campfires!” / “Sometimes magic is scary, and sometimes magic is cool! Right now it’s pretty scary!” / “How do mages not trip with their skirts so long?”

Comment(s) on Templars: “They’re so big~ ♥” / “Don’t they get hot in all that armor?” / “*gasp* ... *whispers* metal skirts...” /

When looking for something: “I spy with my little eye!”

When finding a campsite: “Inquisitor, can I take a nap?” / “Is it snacktime ?!”

A non-rogue Inquisitor trying at lockpicks: “Need some help? I’ve been told I have very skilled hands~”

In combat:

And a stab here! And a stab there!

Can’t touch this~

What’s all the fuss?

When the Inquisitor Falls:

Oh no !!

Are you alright ?! Dumb question ! No you’re not !

If Romanced:

Vhenan!

Amore/a!

I’ll be right there, my love!

When they are low on Health:

I don’t want to impose, but i’m dying!

*whine*

When they see a Dragon: “Raah, raah like a dungeon dragon!” / “Woosh !! It’s huge !!” / “*gasp* A dragon !!”

When during their small side quest: “Thank you Inquisitor! ♥”

Default saying:

Low Approval

Uhm, h-hello.

*sad hmm*

*singing* ninety-nine bottles of mead on the wall ! O-oh ! Hello...

Farewell: Goodbye.

Neutral:

Aneth ara!

Goooooood morning Inquisitor!

I just love abyssal peach ! ♥

Farewell: Make sure you take me with you when you leave !

High Approval:

Why is it called Skyhold ? Does the sky hold us ? Or do we hold the sky ? Hm...

Hello hello hello !!

Inquisitor ! Have a drink ! It’s on me ! ♥

If it’s the first time hearing the line: 

Alaina: Put it on my tab, Cabot!

Cabot: You don’t have a tab.

Alaina: Oh...

Farewell: Aww ! But i’ll miss you !

Romance:

You are looking so wonderfully wonderful today ♥

*The most adorable and most alluring giggle you’ll ever hear*

Vhenan ! I have a funny story to tell you !

Amore/a, i’m not busy later if you aren’t~

Farewell: I’ll see you later! My room or yours? ♥

Travel Banter with Canon Companions of your choice:

Blackwall:

Alaina: Oh Blackwall that’s amazing!

Blackwall: What is?

Alaina: That your parents named you ‘Warden’! It’s like they knew you were going to become one!

Blackwall: Please tell me that you know my first name isn’t ‘Warden’.

Alaina: Aww...it’s not ?

Alaina: What is it then ?

Blackwall: Er- oh look, it’s one of those flowers that you like!

Alaina: Oh ! Where ?!

Cassandra:

Alaina: Cass you were so amazing in the last battle ♥

Cassandra: Thank you, Alaina.

Alaina: The way you just picked up that guy and threw him?

Alaina: Creators, I wouldn’t mind if you threw me like that ♥

Cassandra: I’m going over there now.

Cole:

Cole: Big arms, strong arms, rough hands, I want to be held, need to be held by those.

Bull (if in party): Alright, whose dirty thoughts?

Alaina: Ooh, strong arms? Where ? ♥

Bull (if in party): Go ahead Alaina, ask me to flex.

Alaina: *giggles*

Cassandra (if in party): Ugh. 

Dorian:

Dorian: Lainie, how do you do that?

Alaina: Do what?

Dorian: Walk around with no shoes?

Dorian: Don’t your feet hurt?

Alaina: Don’t your feet hurt wearing shoes?

Dorian: I-uh...

Dorian: Well played.

Iron Bull:

Iron Bull: Alaina, I have a surprise for you when we get back to Skyhold.

Alaina: Ooh! Ooh! What is it?

Iron Bull: *Laughs* well it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.

Alaina: Oh please Bull! Who knows how long until we get back to Skyhold!

Iron Bull: Alright, alright, it’s a nice big bottle of Abyssal Peach.

Alaina: *gasp* ! Oh Bull, thank you!

Alaina: When we get back to Skyhold, i’ll give you my peach~♥

Dorian (if in the party): And now I can’t finish my snack.

Asiel (if in the party): Don’t get too excited, she has a peach garden and I wouldn’t be surprised if she gave you an actual peach.

Varric (if in the party): Would the two of you be offended if I used this for my next book?

Sera:

Sera: Oh c’mon Alaina, it would be real quick. Just a small go.

Alaina: I can’t Sera! I would feel awful!

Sera: People feel awful all the time!

Sera: Feel good now!

Sera: Feel good now and with pie! And their face!

Sera: Pie! In! Their! Face!

Solas:

Solas: Alaina, I never asked, but why did you pick Mythal for your vallaslin?

Alaina: Oh! She was my mother’s favorite deity, and now she’s also mine!

Solas: Your mother’s? I thought your parents were both city elves?

Alaina: She was! But we still worshiped the pantheon, and she used to tell me the legends about Mythal.

Solas: I see.

Varric:

Varric: So Doey you got a name for your daggers?

Alaina: Ooh ! I’ve never thought of that !

Alaina: I should name them something cool!

Varric: Yeah ! Something like, ebony and ivory, or thunder and lighting, or-

Alaina: Lefty and righty !

Varric: Ahh, we’ll work on it.

Vivienne:

Vivienne: My darling Alaina, please tell me that’s not your horrid over-sized tunic underneath your armor I see.

Alaina: Oops, haha, yes...

Vivienne: What happened to the new ones we had purchased together?

Vivienne: The ones with the pretty lace?

Alaina: U-Uhm! Well, I didn’t want to ruin it so I left them at home !!

Vivienne: Hm..

[cmbynreviews]

A landmark for gay cinema – and one of the best Jewish films in years

Since its premiere at the Sundance Film Festival this January, director Luca Guadagnino’s film Call Me by Your Name has had audiences swooning and sobbing with its poignant look at coming of age.

Based on André Aciman’s novel, it stars Timothée Chalamet as Elio, a 17-year-old American living abroad in Italy. His father, played by Michael Stuhlbarg, is a professor of archaeology, and each summer hosts a different, brilliant student. This year, as the swallows chirp and the apricots ripen on the vine, the guest is Oliver, played by the athletic, self-assured and mouth-wateringly handsome Armie Hammer. Elio and Oliver will fall in love and, as the long Tuscan days turn to nights, you will fall in love with them falling in love.

Much has been said about this film’s gorgeous swirl and striking ability to capture first love as well as the self-doubt that comes with coming out. As critic Richard Lawson put it in Vanity Fair, “Elio must act as if nothing is happening while everything is happening”.

This is a landmark in gay cinema, for somewhat paradoxical reasons. It can absolutely (and will absolutely) be enjoyed by anyone, not just gay people, as it speaks so warmly and beautifully to universal truths. But this is not a situation where the two leads “just happen to be gay”. Being gay, and that includes intimate moments, is essential to the specificity of the story. Call Me by Your Name can only reach everyone by being about two specific people.

I would never in a million years want to take this film “away” from the gay community. But there is an aspect to it that has been less discussed. This movie is extremely Jewish and, with its compassion, honesty, zeal and intelligence, extremely Good For The Jews.

Author André Aciman is an Egyptian-born Jew, young Manhattanite Timothy Chalamet is Jewish on his mother’s side, Stuhlbarg grew up Jewish in California before coming to New York to study and Hammer is, in fact, a direct descendant of industrialist/philanthropist Armand Hammer. More importantly, all their characters are Jewish, and the type of Jew that we know in life but hardly ever see in films.

Stuhlbarg’s professor is a welcoming bon vivant, but not in a loud l’chaim-clinking Topol kind of way. He is an intellectual whose greatest vice is trying to trip up a student on a rare etymological point. He, his wife and son all toggle between three languages (Italian, French and English) and discuss classical art and aesthetics and history.

Elio’s hobbies include playing Bach melodies in the style of Liszt and then in the style of Busoni tweaking Liszt’s changes. (Oliver looks on unimpressed: just play it like Bach.)

I should point out this is set in the 1980s, when young minds weren’t poisoned by YouTube, but it’s also a Platonic ideal of the “enriched millieu” – the perhaps stereotypical view of Jewish cultural emphasis on education. People of the Book, as they say. This is a movie where Armie Hammer lays topless as he tries to parse the phrases of Heidegger (Heidegger!) before dunking himself in an old stone pool.

These are Jews who probably know the Pentateuch backward and forward but are ultimately secular. Indeed, there is no Judaica to be found in their Italian villa, which is why Oliver’s star of David necklace is such a standout. (Well, that and because is lays against his chest hair).

“I know what it is to be the odd Jew out”, Oliver assures the more timid Elio. Oliver comes from New England, and Elio’s family are the only Jews in this collection of sleepy Italian towns.

“My mother says we are Jews of discretion”, Elio says later, when Oliver is playing with and cracking his toes. “Where did you learn to do that?” Elio asks. “My bubbe taught me”, the older boy says.

As with any coming out story, there is worry about what the parents will think. This open, honest, Jewish family is not reflective of many films you’ve seen before. Elio discusses the near-loss of his virginity with a local girl with a charming, healthy frankness. (The specifics of the plot I’ll leave out, but this young woman plays an important part in the eventual true romance). The film ends with not just one of the great, understanding parenting monologues, but one of the great monologues in cinema.

Michael Stuhlbarg, who, naturally, “knew” all along, talks around his son’s romance with his protege. He gives him space to come to him for advice, or to let it alone, but offers some heartbreaking advice: “How you live your life is your business. Remember, our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. And before you know it, your heart is worn out, and, as for your body, there comes a point when no one looks at it, much less wants to come near it”.

It’s the menschiest thing you’ll ever hear, but salted with just the right amount honest, fatalist humor.

We can’t bring back the endless summers of youth, but we can recall their spirit. Call Me by Your Name can be considered an idealistic film, but that’s only natural for something about young people experiencing something wonderful for the first time. It prompts us in the audience – and us as Jews – to live up to our ideal selves.

JORDAN HOFFMAN | THE TIMES OF ISRAEL | 10 Dec 2017

[theseshipsshallsail]

The door to his bedroom was locked once more, and Elio lay sprawled with one arm behind his head as he tracked the progress of a large black spider across the ceiling. His stomach was twisted into knots, and rolling onto his side he punched his pillow in a fit of pique, knowing that no matter how tightly he squeezed his eyes shut, sleep would continue to elude him. Too many memories clung to this particular ghost spot, and now that the adrenaline had started to wear off, he was mostly just trying not to be sick.

Oliver had returned a short while ago, and Elio pretended not to hear his uneven breaths as he moved about the bathroom, concentrating instead on the periodic drip of rainwater from the guttering outside. His cheeks were tight with dried tears as he glanced at his alarm clock, and feeling overwhelmed, Elio was half considering escaping to the balcony when the rap of knuckles on wood made him flinch.

“Elio?” 

It was almost a whisper, but his body tensed with dread regardless. 

“Can I come in?” Oliver asked. “We need to talk about this.”

There was nothing he’d like less, but now that he’d had a little time to process things, Elio sighed as he left the dubious comfort of his bed sheets. It wasn’t possible to ignore Oliver for the next two weeks, and though he was sorely tempted to return to their Milan apartment alone if necessary, he knew it was better to get this over with sooner rather than later.

“You can talk,” he muttered as he opened the door. “But I’m not promising I’ll do more than listen.”

“Thank you.” Oliver shuffled his feet, clearly unsure of his welcome, then stepped close enough that Elio could see the freckles on his nose. “I swear you can yell at me all you want afterwards, just -” He broke off, and Elio followed his gaze to where it had landed on his rumpled duvet. “Were you asleep?”

“Yes,” he lied, wondering if he was the only one haunted by this place.

“Do you want me to leave?”

It was courteous enough, but the connotations of his words sent an unwelcome skitter down Elio’s spine, and he found himself unable to say yes. “You might as well stay,” he said, straightening his t-shirt as he strode back to the bed. “You already woke me up.”

“Sorry.” Oliver looked uneasy as he hovered in the centre of the room.

“Non importa.” 

When Elio’s grand-mère developed dementia in her later years, he’d been too young to understand what his mother meant when she described missing someone who was directly in front of you. But not anymore. Oliver’s presence had always seemed larger than life, but here and now he appeared diminished - present, yet somehow absent. It was a lot to wrap his head around, and realising his desk chair was covered in books and dirty laundry, Elio gestured beside him.

“You can sit,” he said, raising his knees to his chest as the mattress dipped under Oliver’s weight. Just like him, he’d changed into thin cotton sleep pants, and Elio forced his eyes not to wander when a loaded silence settled over them. “You said you wanted to talk.” 

“I did.” Oliver bit his bottom lip. “Though that doesn’t mean I actually know where to begin.” 

Elio appreciated his honesty, but here they were, the two shyest people in the world, and for once he refused to make the first move. “You’ve had months to decide what to say to me,” he said, fidgeting with the chain around his neck. “So either speak, or let me go back to sleep. I’m done going in circles.”

Oliver’s shoulders slumped even further, and again, Elio fought the addictive urge to touch. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled at last.

“You’ve said.”

“It bears repeating.” Oliver grimaced as he mirrored his position against the headboard. “I wanted you to know you were right.”

“I usually am.” Painfully aware of his own lack of filter, Elio lit a cigarette to keep his nervous fingers occupied. “What was I right about?” he asked, and when Oliver looked up, his eyes were bloodshot.

“I didn’t accidentally propose to someone. I barely proposed at all.”

“Oddio!”

“No, wait!” Oliver scrambled to halt his withdrawal. “Please, just let me explain. Micol and I, we’ve known each other since kindergarten. Our parents go to the same temple - golf on the weekends - tennis on Tuesdays, the whole megillah. We practically grew up together,” he said, not helping Elio’s aggravation in the slightest.

“Are you trying to make me feel inadequate? Or are you actually circling a point?”

Oliver huffed a breath. “My point is we both saw the writing on the wall,” he said patiently. “Love is a luxury, according to my mother. And she’s not wrong - as much as I hate to admit it. Everyone expected us to settle down after graduation, so we came to an arrangement. Bought ourselves some time.”

“What sort of arrangement?” Elio asked, blowing out a stream of smoke as Oliver’s poker face made an unwelcome return.

“Let's just say it was mutually beneficial, and leave it at that. Neither of us were ever committed, but the relationship kept the heat off our backs, so we played along when necessary.”

Elio shook his head. “You make it sound so… je ne sais pas.”

“Parental obligation is a powerful motivator,” Oliver said. “But we were always better friends than lovers. That’s why last summer was so eye-opening. The way I felt about you… it was too much. I didn’t know what to do with it.” Oliver swallowed thickly. “When I said I remembered everything, I meant it. I couldn’t stop remembering. The moment I got home I was miserable. Drinking too much. Hardly sleeping. Micol took me to task and -”

“It just happened.” Elio reached for the ashtray. “Again. You’ve said.”

“I didn’t choose her over you. I need you to know that. But I’d convinced myself I’d never see you again, and if I couldn’t have what I truly wanted, why postpone the inevitable when we could make everyone else happy instead?”

At what cost, though, Elio wondered, and before he could think better of it, slid his palm over until his little finger found Oliver’s on the mattress. They both flinched at the initial contact, but Elio held firm, offering a silent comfort. 

“Would you have waited?” he asked. “If I’d said something? Would it have made a difference?”

“I don’t know.” Oliver curled his thumb under Elio’s wrist, then kept going until their hands were completely entwined. “I couldn’t have stayed, but I’m not sure I would have allowed myself to hope for more, either.”

“Mon timide Américain,” Elio muttered, offering over the cigarette in tacit acceptance. “My father would say not to give in to your fears, but to let your dreams shape your future.” 

Oliver hummed. “Your father is a wise man.”

“Persistent, too,” Elio said, still hoping to provoke a reaction. “If it weren’t for him, I might not be moving to the States.”

Oliver just about coughed up a lung. “What do you mean?” he wheezed, stretching out on his side, and Elio plucked the cigarette from his grip as he moved to join him. 

“He’s been leaving college brochures lying around since I was fourteen,” he explained, crushing it out. “Some of the most exclusive music schools in the world.”

“Subtle.”

“He thought so. Though I don’t know what good it will do.” Elio wrinkled his nose. “Some of the admission rates are notoriously low, and most applicants have been performing in public for -” 

“Hey.” Oliver tapped his bare foot with his own. “Don’t do that. I hate when you put yourself down.” 

“Sorry.”

Oliver smiled. “You don’t have to apologise, you goose.” Glancing away, he plucked at the hem of his Columbia t-shirt. “Where did you decide? To apply, I mean.” 

It was a simple enough question, but Elio chided himself for letting his guard down so easily. “Berklee,” he said, reining himself in. “Curtis. San Francisco.” 

“I bet you blew them all away,” Oliver murmured, tapping an idle rhythm over his knuckles. “Not Juilliard, then?” 

Elio offered a non-committal shrug, admitting nothing. “Less chance of running into you and your wife if I was on the other side of the country. Though I don’t suppose that matters now.” Curious, he ripped off the metaphorical band-aid. “Did you leave her? Or did she leave you?” 

Oliver rocked his head against the pillow. “We left each other,” he said, face falling as he resumed the slow sweep of his thumb over Elio’s skin. “I’d been running scared for weeks, but the second I heard your voice I knew I couldn’t go through with it.” 

Elio frowned. “My voice?”

“Hanukkah.” Oliver covered his mouth, as if shocked he’d confessed it out loud. “I hung up the phone and felt sick. I don’t think I’ve cried like that since my bubbe passed,” he said, turning towards the ceiling, and Elio’s eyes slipped closed as he did the maths in his head. “We ended it for good the next day,” Oliver continued, bringing their hands up to rest above his heart. “Micol’s not stupid. She knew I met someone over the summer. She never asked who, but I think she suspected.”

“And you didn’t confirm.”

“I couldn’t.” A flash of guilt crossed Oliver’s features. “Her sister’s a nurse. She’s heard stories,” he said, and Elio clenched his jaw as he pictured the disease that was making headlines around the world. “I didn’t want to worry her without reason.”

“Je comprends. It’s okay.”

“No. It’s not,” Oliver replied, full of self-reproach. “I’m not ashamed of what we shared. And it kills me that you thought I was.”

The air between them grew charged, and it would be so easy to slide closer, to wrap his arm around Oliver’s waist and remove those final few inches, but Elio felt stunned into inertia. There was no denying he still wanted him, desired him, worshipped him, even, but a sorry was far from a commitment, and he couldn’t afford to open Pandora’s box on a fool’s hope alone. 

“What are you thinking about?”

Elio sniffed. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Or you don’t want me to know?”

“Both, I suppose.” He shrugged awkwardly. “You should have told me earlier.”

“I should have done a lot of things.” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

Oliver sighed. “Because I didn’t want you to think you owed me anything. Or that I expected something from you. Because I don’t,” he said, rolling back onto his side. “I’m seven years older than you, Elio. And I know you think that doesn’t matter, but it does. You’re young - no, you are,” he argued, when Elio opened his mouth to protest. “Your talent could take you anywhere. And I’m not making excuses - I know I took the easy way out - but I just can’t bear the idea of holding you back. You could have anything you want if you set your mind to it.”

“No man is worthy of all that he aspires to,” Elio quoted, watching as Oliver’s cheeks flushed pink. “We are not entitled to all of anything - not even ourselves - and happiness will never be achieved by gaining all that one wants, only in truly wanting what one has gained.”

“You read my book.”

“I read your book.” Elio leaned in conspiratorially. “Très prophétique.”

“You sound like your father.” 

“Mon Dieu...” Elio butted his forehead against him. “Will you do something for me?” he asked, and Oliver nodded readily. “For once in your life, forget about what your family wants, or what the university wants, or what you think you should want, and tell me what you want. You.” His grip tightened. “What do you want, Oliver?”

“You know what I want,” he whispered, squeezing back. “The one thing I shouldn’t.”

“But you could. Je suis à vous.”

“Elio...” 

“I missed you.”

The word was wholly inadequate, but when Oliver pulled him close he went immediately, drawn into his personal orbit. “I missed you, too. So fucking much,” he said, staring at Elio as if it was he who’d just shifted the world off its axis, and not the other way around. “I used to lie awake at night, terrified I’d waited too long. That you’d already moved on and forgotten me.”

“I didn’t.” Elio looked away, even as he reminded himself he’d done nothing wrong. “I tried,” he told him, voice shaking when Oliver’s palm faltered halfway up his spine. “I wanted to. After that phone call. But it never lasted. There was always something missing.” He stifled a yawn. “Of course, the fact I was planning to leave the country wasn’t much of a relationship builder,” he muttered, and Oliver’s hoarse chuckle warmed him.

“I would say that I’m sorry, but I find I’m really not.”

“Arrogante.”

Oliver cupped his jaw. “No. Just grateful.” Elio’s heart picked up as he studied him like a riddle he needed to solve. “You haven’t been sleeping,” he said, smoothing his thumb beneath his eye. “And I don’t just mean tonight.”

“Have you?”

“Only when I run myself to exhaustion.”

“Quelle paire.” With each pass his eyelids grew heavier, and Elio could just feel himself starting to fade when Oliver’s stomach growled insistently, breaking the spell he’d woven around them. “Hungry?” 

Oliver smiled. “A little.”

“A little?” Elio poked him in the ribs. “Are there no limits to what you'll deny yourself?”

“I’m not denying myself anymore,” Oliver said, each word slow, deliberate. “This is it. My speak or die moment. The ball’s in your court - and I’ll wait as long as you need - but I don’t want to look back in twenty years and regret the things I’ve left unsaid. Because I love you, Elio Perlman - now, then, and every second in-between - and it’s taking everything I have right now not to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness.”

On some level he must have known - despite a concerted effort to convince himself otherwise - but hearing it from Oliver’s own lips was revolutionary.

“You love me?”

It felt like coming up for air after being held underwater. 

“Is that so hard to believe?”

Elio wanted to gasp with relief - to echo the sentiments in their entirety - but as Oliver’s arms came up around him there was nothing he could do but let his tears flow free, whispered assurances filling the air between them until gradually, mercifully, he drifted off to sleep.

Elio watched the shadows dance over Oliver’s profile in the blue-gray light of dawn. His features were soft and unguarded, his eyelashes fluttering with each soft exhalation, and the solid weight of the forearm encircling his waist brought back memories of their last morning together the year before. Each tick of the hotel room clock had heralded their imminent separation, and Elio had lain there for hours in his hungover state, dreading what loomed ahead. 

He had always assumed Oliver to be untouchable, but here was the absolute proof that they’d both suffered, and as Elio traced the prominent veins of his wrist it felt like they were finally on equal footing. 

Oliver’s fingers were curled loosely, the deep lines of his palm reeling him in like a siren’s call, so Elio pressed his lips against them in supplication, letting the steady thrum of Oliver’s pulse soothe him as a litany of we called it off intruded upon his peace of mind.

Once again, they had wasted so much time, and even though part of him wanted nothing more than to fall back into familiar arms and familiar habits, the other half was terrified of getting his heart broken twice. His quintessential Adonis was flawed and fragile - aged beyond the months they’d spent apart - and while he might be offering everything he’d ever wanted, Elio knew the fears the other man harboured couldn’t be so easily vanquished. How could he trust that he wouldn't reconsider? That he wouldn’t pick someone else he could be with openly? Legally? 

Fate had dealt them a cruel hand, and needing a minute to himself, Elio eased out of Oliver’s embrace before stepping onto the balcony. The looping sparrows were his only distraction - not even Anchise braving the crisp frost to rattle around in the garden below - and Elio lit a cigarette as he leaned against the balustrade, goosebumps forming instantly in the sharp morning air. 

How long he stood there he couldn’t quite tell, but the sun was already cresting the horizon when Oliver unlatched the door behind him, and Elio found himself transfixed by the golden rays that limned the blond strands at his temple.

“Hey.” Oliver’s voice was rough with sleep. “You okay?”

“Me okay,” Elio said. “Just thinking.”

Oliver nudged his shoulder as he came to stand beside him. “Are they private thoughts?” he teased, picking up their old game, and Elio smirked, immediately nostalgic for lazy afternoons spent lounging by the pool.

“In a way,” he volleyed back, bringing the filter to his lips. “The morning after we first slept together, you said you didn’t want me to have any regrets.”

“I did.” Oliver angled his body towards him. “Not that it did us much good in the long run. But then, you were always the brave one between us.”

“Not always.”

“Elio...”

“It’s true,” he said, pinching out the cigarette. “I should never have let you go without a fight.”

“That goes both ways,” Oliver countered, reaching up to caress his cheek. “Please don’t blame yourself. It was my own cowardice that kept me away. Not you.”

“Non è vero.” Apparently, the truth brought objectivity. “Cowardice is not the same as conformity.”

“Maybe not. But they both require submission.” Oliver tucked a loose curl behind Elio’s ear. “The desire to please. To be liked. Respected. That’s just how society works,” he said with a shrug. “And the cost of everyone else liking me meant I got closer and closer to hating myself.” 

“I understand,” Elio replied, wishing his anxiety was unjustified. “But those obligations you spoke of last night? They’ll still be waiting for you when you get home. You can’t come here and say these things, then go away again like -”

“I won’t.”

“You’ll have to.”

“Not unless they carry me back on that plane,” Oliver said, leaning in to press their foreheads together. “I value my career, Elio, and I’ll always be grateful for the opportunities it’s given me. But my life in the States? It’s not enough. I need more.”

“What are you saying?” 

Oliver stroked his jaw. “I’m saying we have time to figure this out,” he explained. “My ticket is an open return, and I’ve taken some leave from the department. Six months, initially. When I spoke to your father in February, he mentioned a temporary position at the Bocconi - the Classics department.” A beat. “He’s offered to provide a reference.”

“My father...” Elio’s knees felt weak. “You planned this?” 

“Not exactly,” Oliver said, sliding a steadying palm to his elbow. “The job interview isn’t contingent on your forgiveness. More a happy coincidence. My only real plan was to come apologise in person. I didn’t dare presume you’d want anything to do with me beyond that.”

“Idiota.” 

“So I’ve been told.” Oliver brushed a kiss to his temple, and the rough catch of his stubble was enough to make the slow burn of arousal unfurl in his stomach. “Repeatedly,” he added. “In at least four different languages.”

“Mafalda speaks a little Friulian.”

“Make that five,” Oliver said with a snort, and Elio chewed the inside of his cheek as he savoured the scent of the ocean that still lingered on his skin. 

“Did you tell your parents you were leaving?” he asked, alarm bells ringing at the thought of another rushed decision, and was somewhat mollified when Oliver hummed in confirmation. “Did you tell them why?”

Oliver swallowed before answering. “I did,” he said, still sounding choked. “Though I doubt they’ll ever acknowledge it. My father’s a judgemental bastard. Always has been. And my mother...” Trailing off, he sighed through his nose. “She suggested I keep my indiscretions to myself until I come to my senses.”

“I’m sorry,” Elio said, instantly regretting the animosity he’d shown towards his own parents as of late.

“Don’t be.” Oliver sent him a look of pure determination. “You of all people have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Still. I know that must have been hard.”

“It was,” Oliver agreed. “But you know what? It made me realise something.”

“Comme quoi?”

Oliver searched his face. “That nothing’s too hard if you know what you’re fighting for,” he said seriously. “I’m done living a lie. And I know I can’t undo the past, but I swear I’ll spend the rest of my days making up for it. If you’ll let me.” 

“If I’ll let you?”

“If that’s what you want?” 

Elio’s throat felt tight. “I want you, Oliver. Us. How can you not know that by now?” 

Oliver scoffed. “Sweetheart, you’re a force of nature,” he said, carding his fingers through Elio’s hair. “It took me a week to pluck up the courage to give you a back rub. Overconfidence doesn’t come easy where you’re concerned.”

The simple touch made his scalp tingle, and Elio moaned softly, his heart pounding within his ribcage. “Say it again,” he whispered, trembling as Oliver wrapped an arm around his waist. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you,” Oliver said, turning his head to rub their noses together. “I love you, Elio. All of you. Not just your body, but your mind, too. Your friendship. Your voice - God, I’ve missed your voice. And this, right here,” he said, burying closer, breathing deep. “I’ve missed your scent. Wildflowers and rosemary.” A low groan rose from his chest, and easing back, he drew his fingertip over Elio’s bottom lip. “The scent of us together... it’s haunted me.”

The slick back and forth was excruciating, and the salt-tang of Oliver’s skin was enough to make Elio whine in frustration as he tangled a hand in his t-shirt. “Is this wise?”

“Does it matter?”

“Oh... it matters.” Elio rose up on tiptoes. “We matter,” he said, nipping at his earlobe. “We’ve already been through this, no? Or does seven years make all the difference to your memory, also?”

“Brat.” 

“Old man.”

Oliver guided his mouth back down, telegraphing his every move. “Can I kiss you?”

“Déjà vu encore une fois.” Elio leaned in further. “All we need now is a note.”

Experience had taught them the perfect rhythm, and it was everything he remembered and more when Oliver hooked a knuckle under his chin, tilting it up as he walked him backwards, kissing him all the while. They came to a jolting stop against the brickwork, and Elio was half hard already as Oliver slid a leg between his own, the solid weight of the erection against his thigh causing him to arch forwards, seeking friction.

“Elio...” 

There was no mistaking the raw need in Oliver’s voice, and Elio rocked his hips as his eyes fluttered open, finally ready to speak his truth. “I love you, too,” he said, lips grazing the skin above his Adam’s apple. “I worship you, Oliver.” 

“God, you haven’t changed a bit,” he said, smiling against his cheek. “Still -”

“Horny?”

“Incorrigible.” Oliver kissed him again, achingly tender, and Elio could have cried. “Perfect.”

“Not perfect.” That way lay disappointment.

“For me,” Oliver returned, almost willing Elio to believe him. “You’re perfect for me.”

And who was he to argue with that, Elio decided, opening his mouth in clear invitation.

They had time, Oliver said. They’d never had that before, and without the pressure of a deadline each brush of their lips tasted like salvation, all previous haste forgotten despite the inherent demands of their bodies.

It was a different morning after - a different set of emotions - but no less conflicting for them both, and by unspoken agreement the kisses eventually tapered off until they were simply holding each other close, listening to the sounds of the villa coming to life around them.

A new day. 

A second chance. 

A love reawakened. 

“Does this make you happy?” Oliver whispered, bowing his head once more, and a heavy burden lifted from Elio’s soul as he took his first proper breath in months.

[monetsberm]

ok in all honesty what do you think of that quote from the article in The Guardian where it said Timmy and Armie shared "loud, unembarrassed smackers (kisses)" before the interview?

Right! So, recently a friend brought to my attention an article from a brazilian newspaper called Estadão, from february: http://cultura.estadao.com.br(/)noticias(/)cinema,filme-call-me-by-your-name-e-uma-delicada-historia-sobre-o-desejo,70001664312. Translation:

“Now what, Armie Hammer? Actor of films such as The Lone Ranger (with Johnny Depp) and The Man from U.N.C.L.E, directed by Guy Ritchie (with Henry Cavill), he could even be called dilettante. Millionaire, no, billionaire thanks to his family, Armie chose to be an actor. He’s daring, but doesn’t think the part (Oliver) is risky. When he says that, the young man who plays his lover Elio Perlman (played by Timothée Chalamet) teases. Gives him a kiss on the cheek. “You see, what he’s trying to say is that we’re actors. We wouldn’t be, if we were afraid to express desire between two men. And, also, the world’s changed. Unless we’re discussing the regression of homosexual rights. The world is becoming more and more “square”, there’s still a lot of homophobia, but it’s hard to believe an actor will be marked for playing a gay character”

There you go!

[filmtrash]

Hi, do you agree that Annella from the movie kinda replace Vimini (like the talk with Elio about him liking Oliver, etc) ? What do you think about the relationship between Elio and his mom in the book and in the movie ? I would have loved to see Vimini in the movie but in the same time I love how close Elio and his mom are in the movie, I really missed that feeling in the book.

Personally, I don’t think Annella replaced Vimini. Although I totally understand why Vimini wasn’t in the film, I feel as though her character in the book was so integral. Her innocence, and her unabashed honesty was so refreshing. She too had time as her enemy, but she lived her life like it was a blessing to have it. Going out with friends, hanging out with Oliver etc. Her ending was always going to be so much more definitive. She didn’t have a choice. Although arguably, Elio and Oliver didn’t have much of a choice either, it makes you wonder what would have happened and what would have been said if, in Vimini-style, Elio had just asked Oliver to stay. I think the conversation about Oliver liking Elio was important to the narrative, and without Vimini’s character, it fell to Annella, the all-knowing, doting Mother who can see Elio’s predicament before he can. 

Also, about the difference in Elio’s relationship with his Mother from the book to the film, it’s not something I have particularly focused on whilst reading the book so I can’t really make a fair comment. I love their relationship in the movie, particularly when she reads to him, and when she suggests Elio joins Oliver in Bergamo, I can’t help but feel deeply envious. 

[theangelandthejerk]

10/11/20

i watched a film tonight.

‘call me by your name’.

it was something wonderous - exciting and sensual, artistic, beautiful.

for two hours i was carried away into a painting of life as it should be - a rural italian village in 1983. lazy days where you wake to the sun and have breakfast with your family, who speak to you with love and respect, patience, honesty - humor and delight in their eyes.

it was a reminder that unbroken families exist.

they talk to each other and they do not feel awkward or ashamed.

they share emotions and they learn from one another.

the main character, elio, grew up with love in his life from his family and it reflects in the way he sees the world.

it reflects on his relationships and the respect he has for humankind.

it made me reflect on exactly how broken my world was - is.

it made me feel insignificant and small,

to know the people who brought me into the world - and the ones i was brought up around - do not know or care who i am.

they don’t know that they caused my inability to see the world as a beautiful place.

they don’t know that,

even on the best days,

at night, i feel

hollow.

‘call me by your name’ showed me a world of idyllic romance and idle fancy.

and then the final notes and the rolling of the credits dropped me back into a world where nothing is beautiful.

not me, not my home, not my relationships.

my world is made up of a mess of people who are more interested in making themselves happy than the people around them.

the two i am closest to are the exceptions - but even they have their moments.

and perhaps that is why i am so unhappy.

because, in all the world - in all the millions of people, there are only two i truly feel close to.

and one is... exhausting. i try to be beautiful for her. i try to be exciting and interesting and i fail at almost every step.

she wants to be closer to me, but i have been hurt too many times to ever open my heart again.

the other is... complicated. i try to be beautiful for him, but at the end of the day, there are other more beautiful creatures in his mind and on his tongue.

i say i don’t mind,

and i do not, because with every fiber of my being, i just want him to be happy,

but i cannot bring myself to look kindly upon the others knowing that they shine, while i am dirty, ugly, plain.

i have been and always will be nothing more than the most bland piece of dust that has ever crossed your lips.

i feel insignificant and small in a world where i will never be beautiful. i will never be successful. i will never be intelligent. i will never be talented.

i will never be anything more than an occasionally humorous burden on those i love.

it makes me toy with the notion of not existing.

would their lives become better?

after the initial shock, after the sadness washes away.

i would be another speck lost in the universe.

and the black hole that is my heart would finally blink away.

i would never have to stress about work again.

i would never have to cry about feeling like my love is not enough.

i would never have to watch the scale tick up, up, up as i shove sugar and fat at my conflict.

i would never have to experience agony and shame in hopeless attempts to make myself more attractive.

the feelings of intense fear for losing the one i love will melt away.

the anxiety will quiet itself, for the first time in twenty years.

my hands will stop shaking,

and my disordered and diseased body will give thanks when the pain finally, finally goes away.

i will lay down

and i will sleep.

these are fantasies of a despondent girl.

someone who will never have the guts to leave like that.

someone with so much overflowing love that i cannot bear the thought of my friends in pain.

and i hate to worry them.

but when the world feels so heavy,

sometimes

it’s all i can manage.

i don’t know why i’m still writing.

i don’t know why i thought this would help.

this world is horrible and disgusting and ugly.

it is filled with evil people who destroy all the things that are good.

and we can’t escape from them.

i will never see the beautiful countryside of italy in 1983.

i will never lay in the grass with someone who thinks i am the most amazing creature they have ever seen.

i will never laugh with a family who loves me for exactly who i am.

and it’s becoming harder to imagine

that i will ever be

happy.