#I’ve been left with a Complex of wanting to be extraordinary my entire life

[awfullybigwardrobe44]

The gifted kid system didn’t just hurt the gifted kids

[geekyglimpses-nest]

4. This Might Be The Beginning

Warnings: +18 minor don't interact, slow burn, graphic language, humor, sexual content, physical trauma, blood (gore), bodies/corpses, death, drug use, guns, murder (atempted), PTSD, violence, english is not my first language.

Summary: Delaney has finally found a place that could be a home for her new self. She finally feels the peace and quiet she's craved for so long. Everything seems perfect. But after almost a year of being alone, with no one she actually knows by her side, loneliness starts to be more present in her life, but not for too long. Meanwhile, subtle hints of mysterious dreams and visions with no face come during her daily rutine hinting at deeper complexities yet to be explored.

Word count: 1930 words

Notes at the end of the chapter

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Before creation itself, there where six singularities.

Then the universe exploded into existence, and the remnants of these systems were forged into concentrated ingots. Infinity Stones.

These stones, it seems, can only be brandished by beings of extraordinary strength. These carriers can use the Stones to mow down entire civilizations like wheat in a field.

Once for a moment a group was able to share the energy amongst themselves, but even they were quickly destroyed by it.

Beautiful. Beyond compare.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

1 year later

I wake from my sleep with my heart pounding and bathed in sweat. My breathing is erratic. I feel a pressure in my chest that make it hard for me to breath correctly.

Lately my sleep is been hunted by this dreams that I can’t understand. I don’t see faces I only hear their voices, sometimes is just one voice, others I hear various voices. This are not any kind of dreams, their the kind where everything feels to real to be just a dream, the thing is they never connect with each other, they’re random. I can feel something different from this dreams and my usual dreams, they feel real, but not as a deja vú.

I get up an my body immediately begs for caffeine. I take a shower to remove the sweat off my body, get ready for the day and exit the house. The nearest coffee shop is in town so I take the car. While I’m driving a call comes in, the name is familiar.

“Good morning Mrs. Durmaz, how did you sleep?” I ask “Very well accompanied I should say” she answers with a cheer in her voice “Oh… I take it the date went well. This one is really lasting isn’t, you’ve been seeing him for like what? 6 months now. What’s his name Arturo?” “Yes. He’s 10 years younger than me and we are having a lot of fun, and not only in a sexual way. We’re going to have breakfast right now, he’s in the shower” she says “Well… that sounds serious” I say as I take the highway that leads to town “I don’t know honey, I don’t want to create illusions or see things where there aren’t you know? You never know with these young one. I’m just enjoying it while it lasts.” I can tell she sounds a bit sad when she says it.

“Mrs. Durmaz you’re a beautiful, kind, experienced and sexy woman. If he doesn’t see it’s his loss and he doesn’t deserve you…” the line goes silent so I continue “Can I speak honestly?” she makes an agreement sound “By the way you’ve been talking about him lately, it sounds like he doesn’t see you as a regular fling either Mrs. Durmaz, things have been going to a very serious place and if he would’ve wanted it, he would’ve already left if that’s not where he wanted to take things and so do you. I know you, you would’ve already found and excuse or something wrong with him”

“To be honest… I’ve tried to find something wrong about him but I can’t seem to find anything. I’ve tried to find an excuse in the whole age difference, but that doesn’t seem to be a problem for either of us. I think the reason I don’t want to think this is serious is because of my husband.” her admission surprises me “I feel as if am betraying his memory, as if I’m cheating on him. Before, they were just one night stands, fun flings, distractions but now that Arturo is here, I’ve began to have feelings I thought I’d never feel again since my husband died.”

“Mrs. Durmaz he’s dead, you’re not. You said that you made a promise to him that you would move on and live a life, fall in love again if the chance ever presented itself. This could be your chance on loving someone again. In my experience, you shouldn’t waste it, that kinda of situations don’t present themselves all the time. Can I give you my advice?” I ask her “It’s why I called dear. I’m lost here”

“Talk to him. Tell him how you’re feeling your relationship is transforming into something more serious and tell him how that makes you feel, let him make a choice. You already said that you’d like for something more to happen. I mean it’s not like your getting married, take it on a slow pace, there’s no rush. Just talk to each other and end this torture for both”

“I think you’ve got a point there. Wow dear, I have to say that town you moved into has really changed you. You seem a bit more relaxed now. Is it everything you hoped for?”

“Yes, it has. It’s quiet and peaceful. There is no stress around here, it’s safe. I like it. How much longer am I going to have to ask to come stay with for a couple months” I ask “You already know the answer. I’m not a forest type a gal, I love the city. It’s noise, it’s life, it’s colors. I would miss it to much. But I swear I will spend Christmas there If you promise to spend New Year’s Eve with me” she says in that tone she uses to convince everyone to do as she wishes. “Fine. I will buy your ticket and mine, you can’t change your mind now.” I say threateningly “I won’t, I swear. I must go dear, he just got out of the shower and the show that’s about to happen is something I’m not willing to miss” she says naughtily. I laugh “Talk to you soon Mrs. Durmaz, take care”

“I will. Oh… before I go, I sended a small gift your way, let me know if you’ve received it”

“I will, goodbye”

“Bye dear, take care”

I hang the call and keep driving. The road is pretty empty, it usually is. I no longer live on Washington D.C, the city became to overwhelming for me, I felt watched and unsafe. After the attack D.C stopped being a home for me, it never really was, it was just the place I worked at. I moved to a town called Enumclaw on the King County, I live on the outskirts of town, on a two story wooden cabin, it’s small, cozy and beautiful, what attracted me to buy it was the view that could be seen from anywhere in the house. I wake and fall asleep to the view of Mount Rainier every single day. I some times wake up with the urge to go hiking, so I drive all the way there for about an hour, and I loose myself in the wild in between the green of the grass and the orange and red of the waking morning sun, I walk to the nearest lake and I sit there and admire as I sip through my coffee, I close my eyes and I allow the rest of my senses to enjoy the place. Mount Rainier stands as a sentinel of natural grandeur, its towering peak piercing the sky with awe-inspiring dominance. Cloaked in an ever-changing tapestry of colors, its rugged slopes are adorned with lush forests that cascade like emerald waves against the mountain’s formidable facade. As the morning sun rises, its golden rays dance upon the snow-capped summit, casting a radiant glow that illuminates the surrounding landscape. Crisp, alpine air fills my lungs, carrying with it the fragrant perfume of pine and fir, while the distant melody of cascading waterfalls serenades my ears. Throughout the day, Mount Rainier’s visage shifts and shimmers in the play of light and shadow, revealing hidden valleys and glacial lakes nestled amidst verdant meadows. Enchanting wildflowers burst forth in a riot of color, painting the landscape with hues of violet, crimson, and gold, while alpine wildlife roams freely, adding life to this pristine wilderness sanctuary. As evening descends, the mountain’s silhouette is etched against a canvas of fiery hues, the fading light casting a surreal glow upon its craggy peaks. The crisp mountain air grows cool and still, inviting quiet contemplation beneath a blanket of twinkling stars that blanket the night sky. There’s some type of energy I feel every single time I’m there, I feel a type of peace that I’ve never felt before. My worries stop existing. I sometimes like imagining that I’m not me when I sit in the rocks to contemplate the breath taking landscape of Mount Rainier, I reach such a level of concentration that i feel as if the entire place itself stands as a testament to the power and wonder of the natural world, a sacred sanctuary where the spirit of the mountains whispers secrets of the ages to those who dare to listen. I can hear voices through the air, chanting, laughs. I’ve always wanted to climb Mount Rainier, I’ve tried, but I never go to far. My leg starts warning me that if I don’t stop, I’ll regret it. One day I want to climb it, I want to reach the top of it and just admire the view from above. I think the day that happens, I hope, to be in a better place.

I arrive into town, it’s 10 AM. And I see people already walking on the streets, opening the doors to their small businesses. I see the small coffee shop is open and I can see the line is long but it’s worth it. I park the car and walk towards the door.

The weather is usually cold in the mornings and it becomes hotter throughout the day, that’s the only disadvantage for me. When the weather is cold my leg suffers a lot, I can’t move as fast and I can’t remain standing long period of times, the cramps I get are more usual, I have to stop walking until the pain goes away. Like right now, as soon as I get out the car a shooting pain makes me stop and I have to close my eyes and breath through it, and thankfully this one is brief.

When I enter the smell of fresh coffee and freshly baked cookies invade my nostrils, I smile internally and I line up in the queue. It’s early in the morning and the coffee shop is buzzing with people already. People talk as they sit across each other and sip their coffees between conversations and a few laughs, others read their books and others work on their computers with their headphones on, all sits occupied. To my left there’s a big T.V. that is transmitting the morning news. “A couple months ago we talked to you about the events that went down on San Francisco that ended in Pier 39 located in Fisherman’s Wharf, this is a very touristic spot for tourists to visit in San Francisco. This place was witness of a sighting of the super hero known as Ant-man. Police arrested, Sonny Burch and other accomplices, the criminals responsible for this accident, where thankfully there where no valuable losses. Join us later on to know all the details from this event on WHiH World News my name is Christine Everhart” the segment interrupted by commercials

I most admit, it’s been hard to follow the traces of Captain America’s team after the events that occurred on Berlin and Siberia, they’ve becomed experts on keeping themselves between the shadows without anyone knowing where they’re and when someone does they’ve already vanish leaving no trace behind. Rogers, Romanoff, Wilson and Maximoff seem to always go everywhere together. Barton seems to have retired because I haven’t found any activity from his side. Colonel Rhodes keeps working as War Machine, after what happened in Leipzig he seemed to recover pretty quickly and was soon back in action. King T’Challa seems to have assumed his new role as King of Wakanda and has decided to open his kingdom to the world and share their knowledge and technology. Thor and Dr. Banner are missing, no apparent way to be reached, I haven’t found any clues on where they might be. I don’t now why but while doing my research on Thor Odinson I’ve found myself intrigued by Nordic legends and myths in the hopes of finding traces of where he could be. During my search I’ve found a very interesting myth about some “gems” that contain immeasurable power, a power never before seen by man, that even the gods have tried to hide. I remember when I first read about this, my whole body shivered at the possibility for this power to actually exist, it could be catastrophic, it could mean the end.

“You’re back, will you have your usual” in front of my is Layla, the morning shift cashier and barista of the coffee shop, her smile as big as always. “Hi, yeah I’ll have my usual, please” “How you’ve been? You seem tired” she comments as she taps her screen putting my order in “I am, that what’s the coffee is for. I’ve been working on something big and it’s been keeping me from sleeping” I answer “It most be important to keep you up at night” I make an agreement noise, my response, even to me sounds short and cold but she keeps tapping. She’s always so kind and sweet but I haven’t had my coffee and I’d hate to be rude to her, I pray for her no to continue the conversation so I can leave. “That will be six dollars please” I give her my credit card, she takes it and charges me. I pull a ten dollar bill to put on the tipping jar. I see a new jar next to it and it reads: local theater presentation “What’s this” I ask pointing towards the new jar

“Oh I’m helping the theater kids put together a new play, it’s an original. You can contribute if you can” I put a hundred dollar bill on the jar and turn to look at her. She seems surprised, she looks at me and smiles while putting the a piece of hair that has fallen in her face behind her ear “Thank you. Your order will be at the end of the bar. Hope to see you soon” I walk towards the bar and wait, my name is called and I approach the bar and again I see her, Layla puts my coffee orders in front of me and next to it there’s a small brown bag “It’s cookie to complement your coffee, it’s not good to eat nothing with coffee” she smiles and gives me my order “The play premieres in about a month. I’d love to see you there.” I nod and smile to her, I take my coffee and the bag and leave the coffee shop to walk towards my car and I set course for the lab.

─━─━─━─「✦」─━─━─━─

I walk towards the entrance of the lab but sounds of whining stop me. I frown and look around to find where does these sounds come from, when I find nothing I decide to ignore it and keep walking.

“Morning Dr.Kingsley” says Elodie greeting me.

Elodie Wallace, a twenty three year old trans undergrad Princeton female student, that has a physics degree and is now working to get her Ph.D. on Quantum Science and Engineering. When I opened a the lab, several universities and collages approached me to be part of their doctoral programs so that their students could continue with their field work and research. I’d agreed because I like keeping in touch and help with the on the making talent from various science fields. Elodie is the first one I’d actually accepted. She’s currently working on her own personal research on the possibility to unite physics and quantum mechanics to discover time travel, extremely risky for a young woman like herself. Which is why I picked her, she reminds me of myself when so many called me crazy when I presented my own research on human made worm holes to discover beyond of what we know about the universe.

“Morning El” I say as I walk to my office.

She quickly leaves her stuff in her desk, grabs her tablet and follows me to my office. I sit on my chair and sip through my coffee. I give her hers

“Thank you, what’s on the schedule doctor?” she says exited “The results from yesterday came in?” I ask “Yes, they did” she says “Good, bring them to my office please” she nods and stands “That research you were talking to me about last week, about quantum mechanics, do you have it here?” I ask, she seems surprised I ask “Yes… yes, I… always have it on me, why?”

“Bring it too”

“Really!?” she basically jumps “Um… What from the research?”

“All of it. Bring all of your research. That’s our next project”

“Okey” she says on a whisper “Ohmygod, ohmygod…”

I breath and keep drinking my coffee, I look at the brown bag with the cookie in it and decide to give it a try, it’s sill warm. I give it a bite and I feel heaven melting on my mouth. Shit, it’s actually good. Elodie comes through the door and puts all the documents on the desk, together we start to organize them.

...

“So you’re telling me there is a theory that says that if you go on a molecular level small, you can actually travel through million dimensions and there are a million more we don’t even know about?” I ask Elodie

“Basically yes” she answers

We both stair at the pile of documents on my desk and the green board that is full of annotations and calculations “This could be the begging of the time travel journey. Quantum mechanics and physics are the foundation of what could be time travel” she says

“I mean, I’d say we are years of research away from figuring time travel but yeah, this is where we begin” I say as I lean on my chair. Elodie looks at her watch and jumps right away, grabbing her personal stuff as quickly as she can. I turn to my right were I can tell it’s night now “Sorry doctor, I must go or I’ll loose the bus that takes me home”

“Do you want me to take you to the bus stop?”

“Don’t worry. You should probably go home and have some sleep. Something tells me tomorrow will be a very busy day” she says her goodbyes and bolts through the door.

I organize the desk as much as I can, I grab the empty cup of coffee and as I am about to through it away I see something has been written on it and I hadn’t seen it before. There’s a phone number written on it and it has a message to: “Hope you enjoyed your coffee, let me know if you ever want to hang out. Layla, from the coffee shop” I smile at the message. I take my phone and put her number and name on my contacts. I message her “Hey. Glad to finally have your number”

I turn all lights off and make sure everything is in order before leaving. I exit the lab and walk to my car and just like in the morning I hear whining coming from the trashcans. I slowly walk to them and peak behind one of them. A small puppy is behind the trash can trying to find food. It looks at me scared but their tail wiggles, curious too. I kneel and try to grab it and it barks at me “It’s okey little one” I say calmly showing my hands “I’m not gonna hurt you. You look hungry I can give you some food” they seem to understand because their head rises and it’s tail wiggles excited, they approach me slowly and I can grab it. It’s a boy “Come with me, it’s cold for you to spend the night out here” I grab the small puppy and I put him on the passenger seat, I quickly hop on the drivers seat and the puppy immediately moves to my lap, I put him on the passenger seat once more and he insists on sitting on my lap “Al right buddy, you can stay there just don’t move a lot” When we arrive home I put him down and I can tell he’s a very curious fella because he springs in action and starts exploring the house and of course soon after pee’s on the middle of the living room “Of course you would pee in here and not when you where outside for most part of the day” I leave him to explore and go to my fridge to see what I can give him. I see I still have some leftover dinner from yesterday, a chicken breast with vegetable “I mean I hope you like this buddy because I’ve got nothing else to offer you at the moment” I microwave it, put the leftovers on a plate and put it on the floor. I call after him with a whistle and he seems to understand because he runs towards the plate and starts devouring it, I grab another plate to put some water and place it next to him. While he is busy on that I clean the spot where he’s peed. He’s a big boy, I can’t tell how much of pup he is, but he seems a baby. He takes no more than 10 minutes in leaving the plate shinning and drinks almost all the water “Damn buddy, how long since you last ate and drank water?” I ask as I scratch him behind his ears. He finishes and watches me almost with a smile, pleased “All right buddy if you’re gonna stay the night you’re gonna get a bath. I might not have all that is needed to bath a puppy but we can figure it out right?” I bathe him with my shampoo and dry him with my hair dryer. He seems to be recently abandoned because he has no fleas, he was just dirty. He also seems trained because he can certainly understand some things I say. I did found a couple bites on his ears and bruises but I can’t really tell if that’s what they are “How about tomorrow I take you to the vet and put up some flyers to try to find out your owner. Are you lost buddy?” I say as I play with him with the towel I’ve dried him with. I take him with me to my bedroom and the bath seems to have relaxed him because he goes to lay down on the carpet of my bed next to where the heater is.

I go to my bathroom and quickly shower, when I get out he’s still laying there passed out, I put an oversize shirt and head to bed. My body seems to want to cooperate with my tiredness because as soon as I lay my head on the pillow exhaustion takes over my body. Just as I am about to drift to sleep I hear whining again “What is it buddy” the pup scratches the bed sheets. He want to get on the bed, I sigh “Don’t look at me like that” I whisper and he barks

“Okey. Just for this one night” I say and I grab him and put him on the bed, he starts to smell all the bed, explores it and starts to scratch the sheets “Hey stop that, you’re gonna break them” He understands and stops, he makes a circle around himself and lays down, He looks at me, I pet his head and I lay down too “Good night boy” he responds with a bark.

Soon enough sleep takes over my body, just as I feel myself drift off I feel a small body behind me move to my front, the puppy sighs and soon drifts to sleep too. I smile.

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Notes of the author: I know, I know the pace is sloooow. There's a reason, please don't loose faith. I just really want to establish Delaney and her current life first and then the action will begin. If you feel like you can't decipher Delaney yet, that's the point. Remeber this is a slow burn

I also wanted to let you guys know that when I write this fanfic there sometimes are musical pieces behind them that can heavily inspire and illustrate the chapter, I'll be editing previous chapter that may need the addition of music and I'll be using this emoji: ♪ followed by the name and artist of the song.

Other than that thank you to anyone who's reading, I really aprecciate it. Don't forget to give it love if you liked it, comment your thoughts cause I'd love to hear them.

Geekyglimpses-nest, out.

[oikawaplssteponme]

locked lips

pairing: Pro Hero! Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader

ratings/warnings: NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI [please im literally begging you], swearing, legal consumption of alcohol, slight praise, fingering, use of the name ‘baby’, deku being a little bit of a cocky jerk, unprotected intercourse, make-up sex

genre: ex’s to lovers, smut, aged up characters, fluff/angst (?)

word count: ~2.2k words

synopsis: You broke up with him on impulse. That doesn’t mean you stopped loving him. Now you’re back at his place, at a party you planned, with him looking just so desirable. What else were you to do?

a/n: hi hi! alright friends, this being my first nsfw post i cannot stress enough how important it is that minors don’t interact. if i catch any minors interacting with this post, ill delete this post and block them, which i obviously don’t want to have to do. just please respect these rules :)) anyway, reblogs are greatly appreciated and enjoy xx

You scrolled through your phone, mindlessly. You tried your best not to double tap on any of the pictures on your screen. The last thing you needed was for him to know you were stalking his page.

“You should start getting ready,” said Uraraka. You looked over at her, cocking a brow.

“Uh I'm not going?” you huffed. Uraraka sat down beside you.

“Don’t be like that Y/N. You still have to go tonight, regardless of Deku.”

“The party is at Deku’s house. I’d look like a total idiot showing my face there after we broke up.”

You sat up and crossed your arms. Ochaco sighed. She grabbed your shoulders.

“Y/N, you are gonna go to the party and make Deku regret his entire life. Anyway, I’m bringing you as my plus one, so you have to come!”

You sighed. “Fine, but I’m staying with you the whole night.”

Ochaco smiled and gave you a quick hug. She got up and began scanning through her closet again.

You had been staying with Uraraka since you and Izuku had broken up. It was a blow out fight. You yelled at him for caring about work more than you. He shouted at you for not being understanding of his career. The words you meant mixed with the words you didn’t, and chaos erupted between you and him. So, you packed a bag and left. You didn’t want to, but you were done.

While you and Deku were still together, you helped him plan an event for him and his fellow Pro Heroes, as an opportunity for them all to get together. Now, you would be attending that same event. Only, not with him.

“Who would’ve thought there’d be a day where I’d have too many clothes to choose from,” laughed Ochaco. You smiled.

“You should wear that pink dress Iida bought you for your birthday. I don’t think you’ve worn it out yet.”

“You think? It’s not too much…”

“Of course not! You’ll look hot,” you teased. Ochaco smiled.

“Alright alright I’ll wear it. But then you have to wear this!” She pulled out a bag from her closet and handed it to you.

“Please don’t tell me you bought me something…”

“I had to! All your clothes are still at his place...and I wanted to make sure you felt good tonight.”

You gave Ochaco a nudge and pulled out the tissue paper. You felt the soft material in between your fingertips, pulling it out from the bag.

“Uraraka...”

“No need to thank me. You’ve been through hell and back these last few weeks, the least I could do is get you a pretty dress.”

You jumped towards your friend, engulfing her in a hug.

“Thank you.”

“Hey now, let’s get ready! The limousine will be here in just a few hours!”

~

You sat in the back of the limo with Ochaco as you were on your way to Deku’s party. You looked like a million bucks. A little part of you hoped someone would take notice.

The estate where Izuku lived was gated off. Once you were let inside, you could see the beaming lights from the top of the hill. You felt your stomach clench, nerves building inside of you. You wanted to see him, but you also didn’t want to see him doing better without you. You haven’t even been apart that long. A month maybe? Certainly not long enough for him to be over you, because you certainly weren’t over him.

“Oh wow, Deku went all out!” cheered Ochaco. You looked to see the endless decorations and glamor that surrounded you.

“Yeah, these were my ideas,” you mumbled. Ochaco placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t stress about it. Let’s just have fun, okay?”

You exited the vehicle and began to make your way inside. Champagne fountains and blasting music greeting you. His house was just as extraordinary as you remembered it. Nothing less than perfect for the No. 1 Hero.

“Uravity! Y/N!”

You turned to see your friend Iida, plus others from your old days at UA.

“You two are looking stunning tonight!” smiled Kirishima.

“Why thank you, it’s all thanks to this one,” you chuckled, giving Ochaco a nudge.

“I honestly didn’t expect to see you here tonight Y/N,” said Shoto. You shrugged.

“Well, I was invited after all. So Mr. Number One Hero can deal with it,” you huffed.

“Sounds like you could use a drink.”

Kaminari handed you a glass of champagne, which you took happily. You clinked glasses with your friends before dousing the beverage down.

“It’s gonna be a long night,” you mumbled to yourself.

You found yourself on the living room couch of Izuku’s large complex. You watched as Pro Heroes danced mindlessly with far too many drinks in their systems. You chuckled. At least they’re having fun.

You hadn’t seen Izuku all night, which was strange considering this was his party. You looked over to the glass staircase, knowing more than well that his bedroom was upstairs. You knew the layout like the back of your hand, after all, you lived here for a year.

You knew all your stuff had to be upstairs. You only had time to pack a small bag the day you left. Surely he wasn’t awful enough to throw your things away. You got up from the couch and quietly made your way up the stairs, hoping no one saw you sneak away from the action of the party.

His bedroom was at the end of the hallway. The doors were closed. You placed your shaky hand on the doorknob and turned it slowly. It was unlocked.

You stepped inside. The smell of his cologne filled your senses, causing memories to flood in as well. His room was neat, as if no one had been sleeping in it. You turned to the closet. All your clothing should be on the right side.

“Sneaking around?”

You jumped, removing your hand from the closet handle. You turned around slowly.

“Just wanted to make sure you didn’t burn my shit,” you huffed. Izuku chuckled. He took a few steps towards you, opening the closet.

“Don’t paint me as a villain Y/N. All your things are safe and sound.”

Your side of the closet was just as you left it. Exactly how you left it. You looked back to Izuku.

“Perfect. Then I’ll be taking it with me when I leave-”

“I’m surprised you came at all. I figured you’d want to be as far away from here as possible.”

“I didn’t come for you, I came for Ochaco.”

“Oh right.”

Deku took a step back, placing his hands in his pockets. That devilish smile stared you down, causing your face to burn. You could see the outline of his muscles through his white button down.

“You look incredible by the way. New dress?” he smirked. You rolled your eyes.

“Well since all my clothes were here, yes.”

“Well serves you right for leaving out of nowhere.”

Your eyes widened and you clenched your fists.

“I didn’t leave out of nowhere, I left because you cared more about your job than me!”

“That’s not true-”

“To hell it is! I was tired of being second to everything so I left!”

Izuku took a deep breath and stepped closer to you. He placed his hand under your chin, having you look at him.

“I didn’t want to break up.”

Your breathing got heavier without you even realizing it. You also didn’t realize that Midoriya had you pressed against the closet door.

“I-I didn’t want to either…” you whispered. Izuku smiled.

“Then tell me baby, why did we?”

“B-Because I didn’t know what else to do…”

Izuku brushed his thumb against your cheek, then took a step back.

“Look, I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted was to make you feel under-appreciated...but-”

Izuku moved closer to you again, pinning your arms to your sides and pressing his torso against you all in a swift motion.

“-I can think of a better way to prove it to you.”

You tried to catch your breath. All you wanted was him at this exact moment. Was that a good thing? Of course not. Did you care? Of course not.

“Then prove it to me.”

Izuku wasted little time in moving you onto his California-king. He pinned you down onto the mattress and instantly kissed you. You felt the rush of butterflies swarm your stomach. You hated how much you had missed this.

Deku let go of your wrists and you began to unbutton his shirt. With little patience, he helped you from out of your dress. He dived back down, locking lips with you once more. You dragged your nails down his back, listening as soft groans escaped his lips. He moved down to kiss and suck on your neck.

“Fuck~” was all you were able to get out. Izuku’s hands grazed your burning body, feeling the skin that he had been craving since the day you left. He snaked his hand to your back, unbuckling your bra easily.

“I’ve still got it…” he teased. He threw the bra to the floor and gave you little time to breathe before kissing you again. You ran your fingers through his fluffy hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

“Izuku...please…”

His puppy dog eyes stared back at you.

“What is it?”

You panted heavily, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I need you.”

A smirk creeped onto his face. Izuku kissed your cheek.

“I promised I was gonna prove it to you, wasn’t I?”

Izuku sat up, unbuckling his belt. He slid off his pants and boxers. You caught a glimpse of him, causing your body to feel on fire. Midoriya placed his head in between your legs. He teasingly kissed your inner thighs, keeping his hands glued onto them. The anticipation was practically killing you.

“Izuku-”

“Patience baby...I’m in no rush…”

He moved up to your underwear, biting onto one of the strings and pulling it down. They were practically soaked already. Same with your bra, he tossed them to the floor.

He continued to kiss and nip at your thighs, inching impossibly closer to you. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You grabbed Izuku up and kissed him feverishly.

“So eager baby~”

“Please just fuck me,” you whispered. Izuku chuckled. He licked his lips.

“As you wish.”

Izuku spread your legs apart, dipping one of his fingers inside of you with ease. You arched your back, letting out a moan, and gripping onto his arm tightly.

“That’s it baby~”

Midoriya slipped another finger in, stretching you out even more. You clenched around him as he added more pressure.

He removed his fingers and better adjusted himself above you. He held his cock in his hand before slowly pushing it inside of you.

You didn’t remember him ever feeling this good.

Izuku began to thrust into you, slow at first before building in speed. You could feel yourself clenching around him, sweat forming on your skin. Midoriya groaned with each movement as he pushed even deeper. He kissed you as he fucked you, though you were such a mess you could barely keep up.

He knew exactly how to get you worked up.

“Oh god...I’m c-close,” you mumbled.

“Not yet…”

Midoriya moved his hand down, taking his thumb and rubbing your needy clit. You gripped onto him even harder, digging your nails into his skin as he pushed you over the edge.

“Oh fuck-fuck-”

“Fuck baby, I-I love you-I’m sorry-” he stuttered out.

“I-I love you t-too. Fuck Izuku- I’m gonna cum-”

“Cum with me baby-”

Izuku went even harder as he reached his climax, following you. You let out a pleasure filled scream as you let go. Izuku laid on top of you, catching his breath as your body shook below him.

He looked up at you, brushing his hair back.

“I love you,” he repeated, in case you didn’t believe him the first time. You smiled.

“I love you too.”

~

You had forgotten all about the party that was occurring below you. As you got redressed to head back down to meet Ochaco, you felt Izuku grab your hand.

“What is it?” you asked him. Midoriya took your other hand as he stood before you.

“I really am sorry. I don’t want you to leave again,” he explained. You sighed. You ran your fingers through his hair, kissing his cheek.

“It’s okay, I won’t.”

You walked downstairs with Izuku, his hand interlocked with yours. You watched as Ochaco’s jaw dropped at the sight of you.

“Oh so that’s where you were for the last hour and a half?” she huffed. You chuckled nervously.

“Yeah sorry…”

“Well the limo is here to take us back home, or are you staying here?” she asked. You looked up at Midoriya.

“I’m staying.”

Soon the Midoriya residence was quiet, just you and him remained. You curled up with him on the couch, his arms holding you tightly as he kissed your head.

“You wanna know why I didn’t get rid of any of your things?” he said. You laughed.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I knew you’d be back.”

•

reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

[interstellarflare]

Bend and Break || Homelander

-PART FOUR-

Warnings: Gore, violence, course language, angst.

Summary: People can only bend their morales so far before they break. Homelander is the world’s greatest superhero, and you, a tech analyst, somehow become entangled in his world when he learns that you provide intel to The Boys. He makes it his personal mission to find out exactly what you know, but he never expected such resistance from someone as damaged as you. But broken things can be mended, sometimes in the most unexpected ways possible.

Author’s Note: As a bit of a disclaimer, I have only seen snippets of The Boys. I haven’t actually watched all of it, so forgive me if there are some details that are wrong, as well as the many spelling errors that will undoubtedly be in this series. There is a tag list open for those who wish to be added. I apologise for the long chapters. Gif by @itisa-profoundbond-sarandom

|PART ONE| |PART TWO| |PART THREE|

“Where do you think you’re going?” You asked angrily, as you followed Homelander up the large staircase of your apartment complex and onto the roof. He hovered a few metres away from the edge, whilst you stood as close to the edge of the roof as you could. Homelander turned to face you, his hair gently rustling in the wind. “I’m going to confront Stillwell. I want answers, and she is going to give them to me”.

“We need to be smart about this...” You persisted throwing you arms out in annoyance “if you go charging in there all high and mighty and demand answers, she’s going to know that something is wrong. We need to do this discreetly, otherwise you’re going to fuck this up for everyone”.

“Excuse me?” Homelander growled, flying down so that he was hovering just away from the edge “I’m the Homelander. And I can do whatever the fuck I want. Nothing goes on at Vought without me knowing about it. You have no powers, you’re not special, no one would give a damn if something happened to you. So what makes you think you can help me?” he asked angrily, his eyes once again beginning to glow a dangerous red. You didn’t know why his words hurt so much, you didn’t understand why your chest tightened painfully. But you stood tall, clenching your hands into fists as you shouted “I don’t care who the fuck you are! What I care about is doing this right. If you go to Stillwell and demand answers, there’s a likely chance you will put The Seven in danger, and likely anyone else involved. I might not have powers, but at least one of us has to have some common fucking sense!”.

When no response came from The World’s Greatest Hero, you scoffed shrugging your shoulders as you stepped away from the edge of the roof “Then again, what do I know. I’m not special. But if I hadn’t hacked into your servers, you wouldn’t have known about this, and you would have been covering Vought’s arse for all the wrong reasons, not that you don’t do that anyway”. You turned on your heel and headed back towards the door, hugging your arms close to your body as you suddenly felt cold. You shivered, reaching out to grasp the door handle as a firm hand was placed on your shoulder. Homelander spun you around, glaring down at your form with his eyebrows furrowed as he stepped closer to you. “What makes you think I don’t have any common sense?” he asked loudly, throwing his arms out in exasperation as he waited for your response. As you forcefully pushed him away from you, you ignored how surprised you were to see him stumble. He never stumbled. Then again, he didn’t let just anyone punch him either. Rolling your eyes, you scoffed loudly and stepped toward him “Classic Homelander tactic, you always rush in first. You act without thinking it through. You think that just because you are ‘The World’s Greatest Superhero’, that everyone will automatically grovel at your feet and beg for mercy!...” you shouted, your voice breaking as your tone became angrier “well guess what, even superheroes get screwed over. That’s just how the world works. And you’re angry. You’re angry because you got played-”

“Just shut up!” Homelander cried, his eyes glowing a menacing red before firing one large beam directly beside where you were standing. You shrieked, falling over onto your backside with a fearful gasp. The gravel atop the roof smouldered, grey smoke rising into the air in a steady pillar. That was it, this was the last straw. You quickly stood to your feet, rage surging through your blood as you shouted so loud, that you were certain that the entire neighbourhood could hear you. “Fine! If you want to go and fuck things up for yourself, then by all means go ahead. I’m not going to stop you! But you don’t get to come back to me and beg for my help when things go wrong. I’ve dealt with enough of this shit to last me a lifetime, and I don’t need more of it. Especially, not from someone like you!”. With one final glare, you stormed off the roof, slamming the door to the stairwell behind you hard enough that the sound echoed throughout the entire building. The walk to your apartment became a blur, so much so that you don’t even remember walking through the door, or hearing Max’s pestering questions about where Homelander had gone.

Instead, you stormed straight to your bedroom, closing the door behind you with a harsh bang before leaning back against it. You buried your head in your hands, collapsing to the floor as you brought your knees up to your chest. And for all the wrong reasons, you cried. You cried, because the fucking bastard didn’t care about anyone else but himself. You cried, because he couldn’t see what he was doing to the people around him. What he was doing to you. A small part of you still wanted to believe that there was still some good in him, after he had saved your life from a car accident all those years ago. The accident had happened just before Max had been born. You were on your way to the hospital to meet Michael when your car collided with that of an intoxicated driver. You car flipped several times, trapping you inside the wreckage upside down as it caught fire. You still wonder what had possessed him to save your life that night, what made him decide that you were worth saving? How could someone with such extraordinary gifts, abuse them in such a way?

You sighed heavily, wiping the tears from your face as your wrapped your arms around your form, giving yourself what little comfort you could. Unknown to you, or anyone within the apartment complex, Homelander had never left. He could hear your faint sobs through the layered walls, your heartfelt cries and awkward sniffles as you tried so desperately to assure your nephew that you were fine. He could see you hiding in your bedroom, alone and hurting. And a small part of him felt guilty for causing you to feel this way. But he couldn’t talk to you, not now. He needed answers, and he would get them by whatever means necessary. But your words stuck with him the entire flight back to Vought International, ‘We need to be smart about this...at least one of us has to have some common fucking sense’.

Maybe you were right. Maybe you weren’t. But he would never know now, as he instead changed his direction and flew about the city, trying to clear his head of tonights events.

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since your argument with Homelander, and nothing had changed.

It had been quiet for the most part, except for when Max stopped by every afternoon after school as your apartment was within walking distance. More often than not, Black Noir stopped by as well. He often sat outside on the fire escape, perched either reading a book or casually watching you as you went about your daily activities. So at some point, and you’re still unsure as to why, but you invited him inside.

You started to leave your window unlocked again for whenever he came by, and he didn’t talk much. Which surprisingly made him a very good listener. He listened to your every word with some sort of interest, and it felt good to have another adult around, one that actually listened to you and didn’t argue. In those two weeks, you managed to get a new phone, a new number, and managed to establish all your old contacts again. Butcher was the only one you couldn’t make contact with. He hadn’t stopped by your apartment either, which left you a little disheartened. You figured that the CIA considered you a loose end, and that Homelander had or would likely kill you when he was done with you. An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine at the thought.

You sat at the dining room table, trying to weave your way through Vought’s servers for a second time. But you hadn’t expected such resistance. They had definitely upgraded their technology, their firewalls were practically impenetrable. You cursed under your breath, slamming your hands against the table’s surface out of frustration. Noir looked up from the book he was reading on your couch, his head tilting to the side out of confusion and questioning. You groaned, running a stressed hand through your hair “When did Vought upgrade their servers?” You asked him, not really expecting a helpful answer from him at all. When Noir shrugged and returned his gaze back to his book, you poked your tongue out childishly in his direction. “Thanks a lot, arsehole” You grumbled, rolling your eyes as he gave you a sarcastic thumbs up. Before you could respond with a disrespectful quip, there was a loud knock at the door.

Again, you groan, muttering a few jumbled incoherent phrases under your breath as you approached. You swung the door open without thinking, and almost choked on air when you eyes landed on the person on the other side. Homelander stood with his eyes downcast, his hues a darker and sadder shade of blue than they usually were. His right arm leaned against the doorframe, his usually combed back fair hair in slight disarray. You looked him up and down, swallowing thickly as a heavy silence filled the hallway. You cleared your throat, folding your arms over your chest as you opened your mouth to speak.

“I want to try it your way...” Homelander suddenly spoke, his voice low and devoid of his usual sarcastic and pompous tone. Your eyes widened as you were taken aback by his sudden sincereness. You bit your bottom lip, raising an eyebrow in challenge “Did demanding answers not do it for you?-”

“I didn’t...ask Stillwell about Project Cerberus...” He snapped bitterly, gritting his teeth as he lifted his eyes to meet your own. You nodded slowly, hating the way you so easily gave in and stepped aside, allowing the man before you to step into your apartment. But before he could walk past you, you reach out and grabbed his upper arm with your hand, looking up at the Supe from the corner of your eye. “Yell at me like you did two weeks ago again, and I’m done. Understand?” You spoke seriously, your grip tightening around his bicep as a silent promise. Homelander nodded wordlessly, and you released him from your hold. You closed the door to your apartment and headed back towards the living room, where Homelander nodded a curt greeting to the other Supe sitting on the couch. “Just out of curiosity, is there something else I can call you other than Homelander? Otherwise I’m just going to call you prick or arsehole” you stated blatantly, smirking tauntingly as the man before you turned to face your figure with a stern and harsh expression. With his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flaring in anger, you held your hands up in defence “Okay then, baby steps...baby steps”.

Your eyes widened in shock as Noir released a huff sounding close enough to a laugh. After making eye contact with Homelander out of bewilderment, and after seeing that he wore a similar expression, you shook your head. After deciding that Noir possibly laughing wasn’t as weird as having two of The Seven currently situated in you apartment, you motioned Homelander over to your laptop, where the two of you set about breaking into Vought’s servers.

Tag List: @tardis-23​ @freshmakertaco​

[nautiscarader]

Year of the cow, or how I stopped worrying and loved the meme (BBRae)

Beast Boy's and Raven's relationship is truly one of the most subtle and emotional ones I have seen. There are lots of fantastically written fics which dive deep into characterisation and their nuanced, complicated emotions, showing complex colours of the spectrum of love.

Unfortunately, you have made a mistake clicking on one of my fics.

This is a birthday present for my buddy, ZekkKiray, and it revolves around a meme which I really found irritating... And I wondered how other characters might have reacted to it. Happy birthday, man!

yes, still half hour till midnight in my time zone, made it.

BBRae, 4k, E, (Ao3)

==========

As the Sun slowly hid on the horizon, Jump City, just like every city and town in the world, was slowly preparing for a glorious celebration. People were ready to welcome the new year with dances, parties and optimism encouraged by copious amounts of alcohol.

But not everyone was interested in partying and throwing caution to the wind. Five superheroes traversed the town's rooftops, watching over many celebrations, and ideal breeding grounds for crime, big or small.

Robin, Starfire, Cyborg, Raven and Beast Boy set out to patrol the city, to ensure that this momentous occasion won't be disturbed by any wrong-doer...

And quite quickly decided to join the party. Well, some of them. Robin sighed when he realised that his team has disbanded to join the crowd of onlookers, cheering and applauding the band on the colorful stage, that would soon be replaced by another group, hired just to play one or two hits for some quick cash.

Raven stayed to the side as well, keeping her eye not only at her friends, but the crowd, though her attention was suddenly caught by the dancers on the stage. Three women, dressed in black-and-white horned costumes, performing a synchronised dance, much to the delight of the audience.

- Er, and what exactly is that? Some sort of fad...?

- Oh, no, friend Raven! - Starfire was eager to explain - Robin has told me it's a Chinese calendar! And the Chinese have chosen an animal to represents each year, and...

- Oh, yeah, right. - Raven interrupted her - And lemme guess, this year's a cow?

- Ox, technically. - Robin chimed in - And it's not even started yet, it's based on a lunar one, so it will be somewhere in February.

Raven looked at the women in their silly costumes, dancing and playfully jiggling their fake udders and cow-bells to the beat of the music.

- Meh, whatever, it's gonna be over soon. Oh, by the way, this guys was pickpocketing. - Raven spoke nonchalantly, her shadow coiling around a burly man's throat.

By January fourth, however, Raven was seeing cows everywhere. Television, billboards, the internet... especially the internet. She felt as if it was a single-themed Halloween party that somehow stretched to a week.

And the boys weren't helping. While Robin remained reasonably level-headed, Cyborg and Beast Boy were having times of their lives, enjoying every single appearance of the costumes in real life, or in any media.

The worst thing was, Raven wasn't even sure why the fad irritated her so much. There were much more asinine things out there. But something about that fad was driving her nuts.

At the very least, there was Starfire, who sometimes was able to understand her.... or so Raven thought until she returned one day from the market with plastic cow-horns on her head a bell around her neck.

Raven groaned at the sight of his friend and stormed out of the common room, pushing away few streamers, still lingering after the new year's party.

She closed door to her room behind her and embraced the darkness and silence that allowed her to meditate and focus her powers...

And then she heard the faint jingling of the cowbells from behind the wall.

The purple flames on the candles around her shot up to the ceiling, as Raven tried to control her irritation.

She barked and grabbed her mirror, disappearing into her private void that extinguished the flames she ignited.

Raven walked down the floating rocks that paved her dimension, encased in darkness, illuminated by just few stars and distant galaxies. The ravens flew away in fear, as she glided forward, hoping to find some peace and quiet here...

- Hiya!

But of course, in this realm, she was never truly alone.

A woman dressed in pink jumped from behind a nearby rock, causing Raven to cease her movement just for a while, before she promptly decided to ignore her own emoticlone.

- Oh come on, you haven't been here for ages! - the jovial embodiment of happiness continued - We've been having SO much fun here!

- Great. Leave me alone.

But before she could react, Pink grabbed her and steered her off-path, flying down a different route, loudly announcing their presence.

- Hey guys. looks who's here! - she shouted, waving the arm she wasn't using to maneuver Raven between rocks.

- Oh, great, our big sister... - the Orange mumbled from behind a couch-shaped rock

- Have-have we done something wrong? - the timid Graphite pulled over her cloak

- Judging from your prolonged absence, something extraordinary must have happened. - Yellow interjected, eyeing Raven with curious stare.

Raven let out another groan.

- It's nothing. Leave me-

- Oh, is it about you-know-who?

Violet's sly and suggestive voice prompted Raven to pause mid-turn. her eye twitched.

- Ooh, very brave of you to tackle the most common problem of your visits! - Green added at once. - He can be annoying...

- I've said...

A blast of energy erupted around her, as Raven turned away, but couldn't finish her sentence. There was one emotion left, and she knew very well what can summon her, and it was already too late.

- Come on, say it.

Red spoke, gleaming with a subtle, yet unmistakeable triumph in her voice.

- I'm done with you. - Raven answered and continued her walk, before being predictably stopped again

- Oh sure, is this why you have almost brought me back? - she sneered - And for such petty reason...

- Ooh, tell us, tell us! - Pink chimed in, before being brought aside by Yellow

- Let me do it...

Red spoke and spread her arms, giving the other emoticlones chance to glimpse into what little she have seen.

- That... that is quite an insignificant reason to bring back *her* - Yellow judged - Are you sure it's adequate?

- I'm just afraid this will backfire... - Graphite meeped from behind her

- But I was right - Violet added - It is about him...

- ENOUGH!

Raven burst with energy, silencing her living emotions.

- We just want you to say it, so we can... help you.

The Red emoticlone stood in her way, finally making her stop. Her presence cast a shadow of fear on the lesser creatures of this realm, and even some other emoticlones that dared not to approach her. Red's voice was strangely polite, though Raven knew she must have an ulterior motive behind it.

- And you know what the answer to your problem is.

Anger reached her arm and waited for Raven's response. She couldn't meet her eyes. She was right, of course, but at the same time, embracing the violent and unpredictable part of her nature, reminding her of her father's legacy filled her with disgust...

- But you will not be alone with it. - Violet suddenly joined.

- And while it may look odd, this might be an opportunity to broaden your horizons. - Yellow continued.

- And let's face it, you've done weirder things, but you never cowered away! - Green shouted.

- Besides, it's gonna be so much fun! - Pink smiled.

Raven lifted her hood and looked at the other emoticlones, all awaiting her decision.

Knowing she's delaying the inevitable, with a heavy sigh, Raven made her decision.

===============

Garfield knew better not to interrupt Raven. He has made that mistake a few times in his life, and he still had his life only because Raven was his friend.

Still, seeing her angry was painful, thought not as much as the silent treatment he was getting from her. Beast Boy hesitated for a moment, and just before he was about to knock on her doors, he stopped himself.

With a sigh, he turned around and returned to his room, finding someone already inside.

At first, Garfield thought he was dreaming. But after a few blinks, he realised that the marvellous, dreamy sight in front of his eyes was real, and it made his heart skip a beat.

Raven's trademark, dark-blue attire was gone, replaced by a white costume dotted with black-and-brown spots. Her long legs were covered in fishnets with the same pattern, and as his eyes travelled up, he realised what was exerting the gravitational force that was pulling him that way...

The skin-tight costume had changed his perception, perhaps, but even then, Raven' nipples were just a fraction of an inch away from slipping, as her breast were simply too big to stay hidden in any article of clothing.

And when he looked at her horned head again, he noticed a faint smile on her face, contrasting so much with her demeanour over the past few days. She shifted her legs, spreading them slightly, giving him just a small tease of what was to come, and with her eyes fixated at him, she spoke.

- Moo, I guess.

- Oh, momma!

And before she knew it, Beast Boy leapt onto her with the grace and agility of a frog, diving between her enlarged breasts, and feeling the delicate, cushioning texture engulf his head almost entirely. And at the same time, with his fingers digging into the material, he freed Raven's breasts, hungrily kissing each square inch of her body as if his life depended on it.

- Gar... - Raven moans, feeling her boyfriend wriggling against her bosom

- I see someone has changed her mind...

- You can say that... - Raven replied, hiding the moan that was about to escape her lips.

- I guess you took Starfire's approach and visited the market? - Beast Boy joked, between his kisses - Or, wait, no, you ordered it online so no one will know, right?

- Let's just say I didn't have to order it...

For a moment, Beast Boy pondered the meaning of her words, until he realised that he has seen her outfit once before. Well, without the black-and-brown blots. And as the realisation dawned on him, he let out a gasp, as Raven's eyes glowed white.

Only one of the spots was brown. There was a pink, yellow, green one...

Her most powerful form, the combination of all of her emotions sat on his bed, emanating raw magical, warm energy that could easily vaporise him if she wanted to. Beast Boy suspected the horns weren't plastic either, and that he has just made a few snarky jokes to a demonic sorceress orders of magnitude more powerful than him.

And yet, she was still smiling.

- I just... - Raven swallowed - Couldn't stand you ogling all those cartoon anime girls on-line, in their stupid cow costumes. So I had to fight fire with fire.

- Aww... - Beast Boy cooed - Is my Raven jealous?

- YES. - the demon spoke in deep, rumbling voice that shook some of the objects on the shelves.

The spots on her White costumes suddenly glowed with ominous, red aura, as blood in Garfield's veins froze.

Her face was inches away from his, and only when she felt his hastened breath, she calmed down, and her spots returned to their original colours, just as the red aura disappeared from her eyes. She reached her hands and cupped his face, glad that he did not back away, as her anger overtook her. Their lips met, and Raven poured her apologies into him in a long, delicate kiss.

- And you will have to pay for it. - she smiled, giving Garfield clear sign she was everything under control, including him.

- Rae... - Garfield whined - You-you know I'd never... they... they don't mean anything...

- Then prove it.

Raven used the moment of hesitation to engulf him and with one sharp move of her hands and her magic, she ripped his clothes to shreds and brought her lover closer to her. With his shorts gone, Raven's eyes fixated on his cock, and had to restrain herself from licking her lips, as its head came closer and closer to her face. But of course neither of them would settle on just a blowjob, given the magic Raven cast upon herself.

Beast Boy jumped onto her breasts again, peppering them with plethora of hungry, ravenous kisses. Knowing already her bosom by heart, he know had a whole new territory to explore, and he did that with impeccable dedication. But as his lips closed around her nipple, he received a taste of something unexpected. His eyes widened, and met hers, as sweet substance made contact with his tongue. The sly smile on her lips remained, but as Beast Boy began lapping her milk, her face was torn with a new grimace he hasn't seen yet, and Raven was more than eager to experience.

Garfield moved from one nipple to the other, wishing he could transform into some creature with two heads. As Raven squirmed and moaned underneath him, he wondered what will happen soon, and with his hand manoeuvring between her thighs, he was determined to discovered that.

Her back arched, as his fingers reached her wet spot and slipped underneath her costume, just as his tongue coiled around her nipple again. Though she was trying to contain her emotions, the spots on her costume glowed in violet with each kiss and delicate move of his fingers against or inside her sex, and soon, Raven was thrashing underneath him, ready to burst.

And when she did, it was not with energy, but with milk that filled Beast Boy's mouth, in an act that surprised both of them.

Raven quaked for a few more minutes, coating his fingers with her juices he now lapped as eagerly as the new one she produced for him. Beast Boy made sure to wait until she was looking at him when he licked his lips, tasting both.

- Come'ere, I'm thirsty too... - she huffed, and settled herself amongst the pillows, ready to invite him.

Beast Boy let out a dreamy sigh, as his cock slid between her breasts, engulfing him completely with the delicate, heavenly texture only her breasts could provide. And when Raven gently pushed her mounds together, she added the missing part of friction, making Beast Boy throw his head back, even though he hasn't moved an inch.

But as he looked down at his girlfriend, he met her unusually frisky eyes, and with that, he flexed his muscles. Next thing she knew, his hands were on her horns, and he pushed his hips forward, diving deep into her bosom.

His action was a bit sudden and Raven's eyes opened wide when she realised that her head was pulled forward and that his twitching tip was now a fraction of an inch from her lips. And as she was about to open them, he pulled back and began his thrusts, mewling and moaning with each one, as pleasure slowly engulfed him.

He was in trance, brought by the alluring sight of his girlfriend and her magically enlarged bosom and thge reward they were leaking. And as Raven promised, she wanted one of her own: now, with every rapid thrust, her tongue lapped a drop or two of his pre-cum, in turn only generating more samples of what was to come. Raven was pretty sure what was his plan, but she opened her lips wide anyway, hoping to catch at least some of his oncoming climax.

- Rae...Rae... I LOVE YOU!

And with that proclamation, beast Boy dived balls-deep between her magically enlarged breasts, letting her warmth and size cover them as well, which only strengthened his orgasm. Raven yelped when the first stream of his seed flooded her mouth, and closed her mouth just in time to suck a bit more, even though she knew what was the sight he wanted to see.

As he pulled back, his cock was still twitching, spurting more and more of his virility in the valley between her mounds, until it slowly started to spill down, glazing her breasts with the sticky proof of his devotion.

And just as he thought he has seen it all, Raven dragged her finger across her breasts, hoping to catch as much of his cum as possible before it all drips to the bed. she parted her fingers to show the sticky strands between them before she closed her lips around them and made him collapse to his back from the simple act of tasting him.

- That was fun - she spoke, as most of his seed made it to her lips. - But you know what every cow needs, right?

Raven asked, lapping the last bit of cum from her tits. She leaned forward and with the same low, salacious tone as before, whispered the words that Beast Boy already had on his mind.

- Her bull...

His green body grew in a split of second, transforming him, but not in the form of the animal Raven expected. While his head became elongated and grew bovine horns, his torso and arms remained human, though much more muscular, and only the addition of hooves on his legs and a tail truly made her realise what he was now: a minotaur.

But of course, hooves and tail was not what piqued Raven's interest the most, as her eyes looked down at the figure towering over her.

This time, she could not stop herself and her lust; Raven licked a small droplet of drool that formed on her lips, and reached her hand to experience the enormous, throbbing organ whose glistening head was now once more inches away from her lips.

But her lover didn't want another blowjob. As steam-like cloud escaped his nostrils, Beast Boy grabbed her and effortlessly slammed her onto his cock, watching as the sorceress lets out a silent moan.

When he went down on her, Raven tried to maintain at least some dignity. But now, as her sex was filled completely with his monstrous cock, she threw all of the pretence away and babbled her lover's name, while the blots on her costume pulse violet each time his cock reached her depths, time after time, depraving her of common sense, as bliss slowly overtook her mind.

But not until she has managed to speak one last wish.

- D-Do what you are supposed to!

Raven screamed, her voice vibrating with the erratic thrusts her entire body was subjected to.

- Mate me! Breed me!

Another roar escaped his mouth, and Raven took a gasp of air just in time to expel it, as Beast Boy shoved himself deeper inside her throbbing pussy that before, firmly positioning himself as far as possible, right against her core, he now bathed in first deluge of his seed. And with his thick, monster cock forming an air-tight seal, not a drop of his virility could leak out, and was forced up into her womb. What would have been impossible for any other man became a child's play for him, letting Raven experience the impossible.

And with the flood of his warm seed filling her, came her orgasm, making Raven thrash around his cock, as if she was a puppet on his mercy. With each wave that flooded and promptly overflowed her sex, came a new sensation of being filled and claimed, and in turn, each simultaneously extinguished fire in her loins, and set it anew...

At some point, Raven fell back to the bed, feeling her pussy pulse with each after-wave of her climax, while Beast Boy's seed oozed onto the bed. She wasn't sure how long her after-glow lasted, but she knew what brought her back to her senses.

Her breasts were kissed again, with the same tender and care the minotaur would never learn. Beast Boy was his regular self, taking care of her body his monstrous form has neglected, listening to her breath slowly becoming less and less erratic.

She looked up and their eyes met, while Garfield locked his lips around her nipple again, drinking her orgasm.

- Hey.

- Hey. - she replied - I guess people were right, those cow costumes do work.

- Rae, you could dress like a platypus and you'd be sexy.

Raven smiled, and her hand reached to her lover's cheek, prompting him to leave her nipple.

Their lips met again, and though she thought she would be tired by now, she welcomed him again, especially as his hands now roamed her thighs and ass.

She let out another moan, seemingly far louder than a moment before, but maybe it was because her voice wasn't drowned by the beast's low grunts, but Garfield's borderline cute huffs.

And even though he was now much shorter and thinner than before, somehow Raven felt fuller than when a giant minotaur ravaged her. Maybe it was his kisses, dotting her breasts and lapping her milky fluid, maybe it was his delicate, but steady grip of his hands on her thighs... or maybe it was the unspoken promise they mentioned...

As they kept coming closer, the empath suddenly grabbed his cheeks and pulled him against her, not to kiss, but to find emotions raging in his mind. And she found them - those of love, protection, dedication and responsibility, which easily pushed her to the edge...

She cried out his name just as he flooded her again, this time with his essence, and even though Raven knew it was impossible, she somehow felt the difference in warmth that filled her sex.

As the two breathed in the same air, Raven gently moved her hand between her body, feeling the warmth of his body above her, and his cock and seed inside. She could undo the spell right now, and change their lives forever... And she had to admit, it would be a very apt moment... but then again, she would rob them of many, many heated moments like these.

It's a good thing she buddied up with Yellow as much as with Violet for this ride.

The two lay ion each other's arms for quite some time, savouring each other's scents and warmth, until Raven found strength and motivation to speak.

- So, got any more silly internet memes trending?

Beast Boy smiled and reached for his phone.

=============

Winter this year was snow-less, rainy and mild, like for the past half a decade or so. But that only made the New Year's eve less cumbersome, as it meant less time traversing through mounds of snow. Plus, it meant the Titans' Tower rooftop wasn't off limits.

- I thought this place, at this time would be the worst to meditate. - Beast Boy spoke - The whole sky's gonna be on fire in five minutes.

- Yeah, but maybe I wanted to watch.

He sat next to her, listening to far-away sounds of concerts and premature celebration. He scooted a few inches closer to her, and let out a short meep when her cape covered him.

- I wonder what this year will bring us. - he spoke, ruining the quiet, charming moment.

- I do - Raven answered quickly. - This year is gonna be of the tiger.

Raven spoke and undid a button of her cape that joined the two, freeing her breasts. Beast Boy swallowed loudly, seeing the moonlight shining onto her skin, and making her bosom look bigger with no additional magic required.

- Why don't we practice, kitty?

And with that, the night's air was filled with a powerful roar of a predator cat that has just found its very willing prey.

[sacred-algae]

In celebration of The Great Gatsby entering public domian, I would like to publish an essay I wrote a few years back. Because I hate The Great Gatsby with the burning passion of a thousand suns.

A Character Analysis of The Great Gatsby:

Gatsby, Nick and Daisy

“The Great Gatsby” by F. Scott Fitzgerald is often revered as one of the greatest American novels of all time. It makes us take off our rose-colored glasses and look at the rich whom we idolize so much. But are our perspectives of this book also tinted by its title of the great American novel? We are often misdirected in this book to forget many important quotes that change the way we look at the main characters completely. Authors make sure that everything in the book has a purpose. If it was included, it’s important and shouldn't be ignored. Readers often place certain expectations on the characters due to its high status, however, this paper will show that the characters in question are not as they are commonly perceived, whether good or bad, and explore the complex writing behind the characters, Nick, Gatsby, and Daisy.

Although Nick Carraway is seen by many for who he is, arrogant and judgemental, they still miss out on the bigger picture. He glorifies violence and he is a cheater. The problem with Nick and the book is that rather than the book being written by Fitzgerald, it is written by Nick. Because of this, we see him in a glorified manner. The first few lines of the book show this. “In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.” (pg. 3) Using the words “younger”, “vulnerable” and even “father” he immediately ensures that we have his sympathy. He does the same thing again later, and more directly, at the very end of chapter three. “Everyone suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues, and this is mine: I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known.” (pg. 65) This is where most people begin to see his true self shine through. However, it should be seen much earlier. In chapter one he mentions something very sinister. “I participated in that delayed Teutonic migration known as the Great War. I enjoyed the counter-raid so thoroughly that I came back restless. Instead of being the warm center of the world the middle-west now seemed like the ragged edge of the universe” (pg. 5) Nick says directly to the reader that he enjoyed WWI. Only second to WWII (85,000,000 or 3% of the entire world’s population), WWI is the bloodiest war in world history with a death toll of 16,000,000. 40,000,000 if you include deaths resulting from the Spanish Flu. (statistics from Wikipedia) For someone to enjoy being at war there has to be something majorly wrong with them. Not only that but it can be said with near certainty that Nick was cheating on a girl out west when he had his fling with Jordan. In chapter one after dinner with the Buchanans this conversation tasks place. “As I started my motor Daisy peremptorily called ‘Wait! ‘I forgot to ask you something, and it’s important. We heard you were engaged to a girl out West.’ ‘That’s right,’ corroborated Tom kindly. ‘We heard that you were engaged.’ ‘It’s libel. I’m too poor.’ ‘But we heard it,’ insisted Daisy, surprising me by opening up again in a flower-like way. ‘We heard it from three people so it must be true.’” (pg. 23) For there to be rumors that someone is engaged with someone else it has to be commonly known that they are in a relationship. Nick is a severely flawed, if not evil, character.

Many people strive to be like Jay Gatsby, with his charm and “extraordinary gift for hope.” Even then, the biggest argument of the book is whether or not he truly loves Daisy. Most clues point to no. Gatsby even remarks that “‘Her voice is full of money,’” (pg. 128). He sees her as a prize to be won. He chases her, she’s the final thing he needs to have his perfect life. And during a flashback to his first kiss with her, right before the iconic passage where “she blossomed for him like a flower,” Fitzgerald describes his desire for her like this: “The quiet lights in the houses were humming out into the darkness and there was a stir and bustle among the stars. Out of the corner of his eye Gatsby saw that the blocks of the sidewalk really formed a ladder and mounted to a secret place above the trees—he could climb to it, if he climbed alone, and once there he could suck on the pap of life, gulp down the incomparable milk of wonder.” Possibly the most frightening passage in the book. It sounds like some bestial craving. But that is just his relationship with Daisy. Tom accuses him of bootlegging. “‘I found out what your ‘drug stores’ were.’ He turned to us and spoke rapidly. ‘He and this Wolfshiem bought up a lot of side-street drug stores here and in Chicago and sold grain alcohol over the counter. That’s one of his little stunts. I picked him for a bootlegger the first time I saw him and I wasn’t far wrong.’” (pg.143) We never are told explicitly that this is true but it is left to the reader to decide this. And there is plenty of evidence. When Gatsby is giving Daisy a tour of the mansion we hear him on his side of a phone call. “...the phone rang and Gatsby took up the receiver. ‘Yes…. Well, I can’t talk now…. I can’t talk now, old sport…. I said a SMALL town…. He must know what a small town is…. Well, he’s no use to us if Detroit is his idea of a small town….’” (pg. 100-101) This again isn't explicit but why would the person in question be of no use to him if they think that Detroit is a small town? They need a small town. If it is a big one it is easier for the police to track his business. And after Gatsby dies Nick answers another business call. “...said Chicago was calling...‘This is Slagle speaking....’ ‘Yes?’ The name was unfamiliar. ‘Hell of a note, isn’t it? Get my wire?’ ‘There haven’t been any wires.’ ‘Young Parke’s in trouble,’ he said rapidly. ‘They picked him up when he handed the bonds over the counter. They got a circular from New York giving ‘em the numbers just five minutes before. What d’you know about that, hey? You never can tell in these hick towns——‘ ‘Hello!’ I interrupted breathlessly. ‘Look here—this isn’t Mr. Gatsby. Mr. Gatsby’s dead.’” This is a hint towards Gatsby making money selling counterfeit bonds. A business that he tried to recruit Nick too. “‘Why, I thought—why, look here, old sport, you don’t make much money, do you?’ ‘Not very much.’ This seemed to reassure him and he continued more confidently. ‘I thought you didn’t, if you’ll pardon my—you see, I carry on a little business on the side, a sort of sideline, you understand. And I thought that if you don’t make very much—You’re selling bonds, aren’t you, old sport?’ ‘Trying to.’ ‘Well, this would interest you. It wouldn’t take up much of your time and you might pick up a nice bit of money. It happens to be a rather confidential sort of thing.’” (pg. 88-89) Why is it confidential? Because it’s illegal. Not only is Gatsby’s relationship with Daisy toxic, but he is a mobster. This in itself isn’t problematic, but people may have died because of him, and the book shies past this point.

Daisy Buchanan is hated by most people who read the book. It is said that she is shallow and arrogant. This is a look to the surface. First, it is important to understand Daisy and Tom’s ages. When the book takes place Daisy is 23, Tom is 30. Making Daisy 18 and Tom 25 at the time they were married. While she is legal this marriage is incredibly creepy. She is stuck in a marriage with a racist, cheating, borderline abusive husband. And she knows this. Even then she is brave enough to call him out (and mock him) on his racism in chapter one at dinner. “‘Tom’s getting very profound,’ said Daisy with an expression of unthoughtful sadness. ‘He reads deep books with long words in them. What was that word we——‘ ‘Well, these books are all scientific,’ insisted Tom…” (pg. 16) She’s trapped in a situation where she has no control. She tries to reclaim her life through Gatsby but she quickly learns that he isn’t different. “‘Please don’t.’ Her voice was cold, but the rancour was gone from it. She looked at Gatsby. ‘There, Jay,’ she said— but her hand as she tried to light a cigarette was trembling. Suddenly she threw the cigarette and the burning match on the carpet. ‘Oh, you want too much!’ she cried to Gatsby. ‘I love you now—isn’t that enough? I can’t help what’s past.’ She began to sob helplessly. ‘I did love him once—but I loved you too.’” (pg. 141-142). Daisy lives in a society where women are seen and not heard. She knows this but still does what she can to speak for herself. She is incredibly smart. People don’t give her enough credit. Take the iconic line, “Well, she was less than an hour old and Tom was God knows where. I woke up out of the ether with an utterly abandoned feeling and asked the nurse right away if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’m glad it’s a girl. And I hope she’ll be a fool—that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.’” (pg. 20)

She is smart enough to see what is happening around her and it breaks her, that's why she wants her daughter to be a fool. She’ll never have to question it, she’ll never know it, she’ll always be happy.

“The Great Gatsby” indeed is a great book. One with deeply complex characters. But we need to take a second look at them, not just accept what others tell us. Because of its high status, the characters of “The Great Gatsby” are often subject to preconceived notions, through discussing and analyzing quotes in the book you can begin to see both sides of Nick, Gatsby, and Daisy. When we see someone say something about them, or any person, or anything, question it. As the great Albert Einstein once said-“The important thing is to never stop questioning.”

We need to stop idolizing Nick and Gatsby, and stop victim blaming Daisy. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

[theredmaynefiles]

Fan Interview: A  Conversation With Eddie Redmayne

It’s been a difficult year for everyone. On top of everything else, I was diagnosed with MS early this summer – so, yeah, it’s been a year of struggles, in many ways. So what better way to cheer up than starting off a morning by talking to Eddie Redmayne & hearing that lovely British accent? For myself & four other fan bloggers, that was just how last Wednesday went, as it was time for another fan interview session! This was my third time speaking to him & each time I’ve been struck by how much more relaxed he is with us as compared to other interviews he’s done. It truly is just a chat between friends. He remembers our names & asked about my son, & I got the opportunity to thank him for the amazingly kind letter he sent to me during the summer. (If you missed my post about that, you can find it here). Then, of course, it was time to talk about The Trial of The Chicago 7, & the first thing I wanted to know was how he nailed his American accent so well & whether he found it difficult:

Me: Hi, Eddie! Before I jump into my question, I wanted to say a quick thank you for the letter that you sent to myself & my son, Jake, earlier in the summer. That really meant a lot to us!

Eddie: You’re so welcome! How is Jake doing?

Me: He is doing quite well. He’s actually sitting in the room with me right now because he wanted to listen in.

Eddie: Say hi to Jake for me! And how are you doing, Marci?

Marci: I’m doing well, thanks! So, you’ve mentioned before that you sometimes do voices on the tube and there’s been a lot of people that have been really surprised by your American accent. How did you practice your American accent for this role?

Eddie: Years ago on The Yellow Handkerchief I worked with a lovely man called Michael Buster, who is based in Los Angeles, and he’s a dialect coach. He trained with a man named Tim Monich, who is the sort of don of dialect coaches, who I worked with a bit on The Good Shepherd. My process on The Yellow Handkerchief and Hick, actually, after that, and a little bit on Red, when I did it on Broadway, was I’d go to see Michael. I’m not inherently good on accents. Some people can just burst into impressions, and I’ve never been that actor, sadly. So it takes quite a lot of work for me, but I love that work. You know when we were talking about process — process is a nebulous thing, but when you have an accent, you have a sort of tangible thing to start with, and I have to learn it like music. I have to start months early and break it down to tiny sounds, and there are moments when you’re like…I’m never going to be able to be free with this. But the reason I have to start so early is that by the time it comes to filming, I need to be able to improvise, I need to be able to completely have it in my body in some ways. And so what happened on this one is Michael — even though there was not a big budget on this movie, I was quite insistent that I was able to work with Michael. When the film was first going to happen with me in it, Michael flew over to London and we spent two weeks working on the accent. That involves working through sessions, watching material, recording on my iPhone and walking around the streets of London, as you said, and on the Tube kind of talking to myself. Because quite often, you feel like you’re articulating it correctly, and when you hear it back in relation to what Michael is doing, it’s only when you’re listening back to both of your voices, you realize how wrong it is. And so I was doing all that, and I was excited to go to Toronto, and Hannah had found somewhere for us to live, and we were taking the kids, and Iris was coming out of school, and I got a call from Michael when he got back to Los Angeles and he said, “I’m so sorry to hear it’s fallen through.” And that was the first I’d heard that the film wasn’t happening. So that’s the extraordinary thing, that I’ve sort of been working for it and so excited for it, and obviously Aaron — in some ways it’s a dream project for me. So suddenly it was like — will it happen again? I put it to rest for several months thinking I can’t get my hopes up on this one because it’s been gestating for 15 years. But the accent and the words were still kind of rumbling around inside me, and when it did resurrect itself, I flew to New York a week before my family flew out, before we started shooting, and Michael came there and we did a week’s work. He came for the first day on the set, and then he kind of left me to it. It’s riveting on accent things with a dialect coach — it’s far more than it sounds like because there’s a kind of investigation where the character came from, when they moved somewhere, what else (?) they might have. But there was an interesting choice there because when you listen to Tom, he has a very specific…when he says an “ing” sound, he tends to pronounce “een.” And it’s quite eccentric, and I was desperate to go there because it felt so specific to him, and I was sort of gently discouraged by both Michael and Aaron. And I think it was because his voice itself had an eccentricity to it, so if it was me, an English actor doing an American accent for the first time as far as quite a few audience members were concerned, it might be off-putting. So I ended up simplifying it to a sort of less specific version of who he was.

A bit later, we talked about Tom Hayden himself & I found his response especially riveting – particularly what he said about each of us having our own moral compass & set of beliefs & yet still having glaring hypocrisies within that. I think that’s something we’re striving, as a society, to become more aware of:

Me: Tom Hayden was a truly remarkable person, who dedicated his life to speaking out and fighting passionately for what he knew to be right. Is he someone you were very familiar with before you took this role, and did his history make this role especially appealing to you?

Eddie: I didn’t know anything about Tom Hayden. I didn’t know anything about the Chicago 7. In fact, being totally frank, my knowledge of this moment of American history was pretty blurry. Randomly, Hannah and I had started watching the great seminal documentary on the Vietnam War on Netflix months before I was offered this. And we just had found a complexity of how that war was entered, as with everything historically, rooted so much in the past, we found that kind of riveting. So I didn’t know much about Tom, but the more I read about him from firstly his upbringing, the complexity of having sort of an alcoholic father, but then at an early age being willing to put himself on the line when he was  being a journalist and on the Freedom Rides when he was being locked up. One of the things in this film, you think Tom’s scared of going to prison — he’s been to prison. He just wants to get through this trial in order to get on with the serious business. He sees it as a barricade in some ways to what he wants to be doing. By this time his integrity — he is totally extraordinary and someone who’s really willing to live by his beliefs. We all our own moral compass, we all have our own set of beliefs, but we also often all having glaring hypocrisies within that. And I found him a great model of integrity. It’s interesting because there’s something that Jane Fonda said about him: that he understood that progressives had to be prepared to take power and learn to govern, not just to protest. And that was something that she says he talked about, and I found that interesting.

You can check out our entire interview in Charlotte’s awesome post here. The Trial of The Chicago 7 is out on Netflix TODAY, so please check it out. At a time when we are fighting for change in our world, this film & the history behind it are especially important. Just like the Chicago 7, we have to make our voices heard. If people don’t want to hear, then that’s all the more reason to speak up! 

We all owe a great debt of thanks to the ever amazing Charlotte of @bespokeredmayne, who is responsible for setting up our fan interviews & who also moderates. The other fans involved were Ivonne of @eddieronline on Twitter, Ali of eddieredmayne.net, & Erina of @amazingeddieredmayne on Instagram.

[welcome-to-afterlife]

I just read the obey me after life ell crossover and I'm so excited to see the next post because it was 🔥🔥🔥 but now my brain at 3 am is chugging out a custody battle for mc fanfic that I'll never write and I'm holding you accountable for it

Finally finished! This is a lot longer than I thought it would be, but I still had a lot of fun writing it.

AFTERL!FE X OBEY ME CROSSOVER

The air was buzzing with tension. Hushed voices filled the room as spectators poured into the courtroom, both from Devildom and the Otherworld. Humans and demons sat in the audience, waiting for the historical decision made today. No human from the Otherworls had ever been sentenced to work at Devildom, but that was about to change.

Both the defendants and plaintiffs sat at the front of the room. On the left side, the Morningstar family were checking over all their belongings to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything. Besides them was the future king of Devildom, Diavolo, and his butler, Barbatos. Lucifer was talking to Diavolo with great concern, pointing to Solomon, who was shuffling through the endless papers on his desk. Although the sorcerer had never touched a law textbook in his life, the Otherworld laws had a strict human-attorney-only (dead or alive) policy.  While Lucifer insisted on contacting his lawyer contacts in the human realm, Diavolo opted for Solomon. The future king of Devildom claimed that Solomon had the best understanding of their situation and that his slithery tongue would be the cause for their victory. Lucifer could only hope that he was right.

On the right side was noisy chatter from Nyang Lead Manager, Housemaster Sei, and the soul reapers from the 14th Department. Unlike Lucifer, the reapers were confident and relaxed. They had the upper-hand in the situation as Youssef, the lawyer with an record-breaking winning streak, was their attorney. The only being that was anxious was the Lead Manager, who was too busy hissing at Youssef to notice the judge entering the room.

As the judge walked into the room, the crowd became silent. Behind her was the manager of the 14th Department-- the focus of the case. The judge stood at the center podium while the manager positioned themselves behind the left podium.

"Welcome everyone. Today we will begin the formal proceedings for the civil case Morningstar vs. The 14th Department." The judge slammed the gavel on the podium. "I will decide whether the manager of the 14th Department should transfer to Devildom or continue their activites in the Otherworld. We will begin the proceedings by asking the plaintiff to state their case."

That was Solomon's cue. He stood up and cleared his throat. "Your honor, the Morningstar family-"

"Make it quick, dumbass. You guys are gonna lose anyways," Quincy shouted from the opposite side.

The entire court turned to him, including the judge. "Sir, I highly suggest that you compose yourself in this professional environment or else your will be forcibly removed. Mr. Solomon, you may continue."

Ethan rolled his eyes and whispered, "Great going, you brat."

Mammon and Levi snickered as Quincy crossed his arms and glared at them.

Solomon glanced at his papers once more, before continuing. "As I was saying, the Morningstar family believes that the 14th Department's manager is best suited for Devildom. They have already spent an entire year as an exchange student and returned for an additional amount of time. We believe that their managerial expertise would benefit the exchange program as the manager would be in charge of guiding new exchange students. As a human, they would be able to provide emotional support and act as a resource for information....."

The brothers watched in amazement as Solomon handled himself with poise and grace. Diavolo grinned and elbowed Lucifer's ribs. I told you he'd be great.

"Wow, he's almost as good as Lucifer," Satan said.

"Who knew that academia could be so sexy?" Asmo whispered.

"Looool so you're into nerds now?" Levi asked.

"I'm hungry," Beel groaned.

"Shut up, all of you. Or else I'll hang you from the roof by your feet," Lucifer hissed.

"Hey, I didn't say anything! Why ya threaten' me?" Mammon exclaimed.

Meanwhile, the soul reapers began to worry. Solomon was a lot more throughout than they had expected. The longer he talked, the more likely the judge would agree with him. Ell, in particular, was so anxious that he went on another sneezing fit. Although Licht tried to assure him that everything would be alright, Ell couldn't ignore the possibility of losing the manager. He was supposed to be their guardian angel. What type of angel was he if he couldn't protect them from other people? Fortunately, Housemaster Sei anticipated this, so brought a noise-canceling mask for the angel.

Once  Solomon finished presenting his case, the judge spoke. "Thank you, Mr. Solomon. Now we will ask the defendant to speak."

Yousseff shuffled his papers. He took a deep breath and stood before the court.

"Your Honor," he started. "The 14th Department believes that the manager should not transfer to Devildom. This the first manager in the soul reaper history. Consider it a test run, if you will. With the manager, we will be able to determine whether having a manager is effective in soul reaper activity, especially purification rates."

He took a paper filled with graphs and charts. "According to this report from the Reaper Archives,  the 14th Department had the lowest purification rates last 5 years."

"What the hell? Is he trying to embarrass us?" Sian shook his head.

"Have some trust in him. After all, he's the lawyer," Nine shrugged.

"With this in mind, the department leaders believed that we would benefit from additional managerial support. And ever since then, our purification rates have increased by 30%. Furthermore, we are the only department to have such a large in increase in rates while maintaining the ethical aspect of purification." Youssef continued.

"If that is the case, why not take another human as the manager? Mr. Solomon made it clear that the manager was the first exchange student who has extraordinary magical capabilities, so their presence is important in Devildom. What makes them so special that you cannot retrieve a replacement?"

"Yeah, why can't y'all just pluck another human from your Otherworld thingy?" Mammon leaned back in his seat.

"How about I pluck your glasses and shove them up your ass," Quincy snorted.

"Why use glasses when there are a whole variety of toys? That's much more fun, no?" Asmo said.

"Sir-" The judge started.

"There are children in the room, you filthy, narcissistic freak," Ethan snorted.

"Order!" The judge shouted.

"Don't talk to my brother like that!" Satan shouted.

"Then stop trying to steal our manager, or else I'll bite you!" Kati growled.

Mammon laughed. "Listen pipsqueak. You see Beel over here?" He patted Beelzebub's muscles. "He'd swallow you whole and eat the rest of your team."

"Well I'll be happy to inform you that I've got a whole magical book on how to control demons," Ghilley held up a golden book in his hands.

"Order in the court!" The judge shouted again.

Lucifer glared at the soul reaper, his wings slowly unveiling themselves from his back. "Where did you find that?"

The judge sighed. "Sir, didn't I just-"

Quincy snickered. "What? Now you're scared of some tiny book? I thought you were supposed to have big ego. You know, after God kicked you out of-"

Lucifer lunged for the younger demon. Mori pulled out his cards and threw them at Lucifer's direction. The Avatar of Pride dodged, shifting his target to Mori. But before he could cause further damage, Diavolo and Barbatos grabbed his arms.

"I'm so sorry for Lucifer's outburst. However Quincy, that's a large statement from a demon with a major inferiority complex," Diavolo's smile was tight and thin.

"Alright let me at this motherf-" Quincy ran, but Ethan and June held him back.

"Order in the court!" The judge slammed the gavel. "The next person to speak out of turn will be permanently banned from this establishment."

Everyone sat back in their seats, sending glares to the opposition. The judge looked at Youssef, who continued his case.

Once Youssef ended presenting his case, the judge thanked him and reexamined the paper on their desk.

After a minute a long minute of silence, the judge removed her glasses. "Well both sides make compelling arguments with the manager's prescience needed at both locations. However, we're missing the most important part."

She turned to the manager. "My decision is entirely based on your response to this question, so I'd like you to answer it with some thought."

The manager nods. "I'm ready."

"Do you want to stay in the Otherworld or live in Devildom?"

[penninstitute]

Case #0190811

Statement of Jameson Kisler and his writing ability. Statement given on August 11, 2019.

I would like to preface this statement with something very important: I never meant harm to anyone who has read my works. 

I suppose I should start from the beginning. I have been writing for 30 years now and I’ve built up a fanbase with my works. Countless people have come to my book signing and those people have credited my novels to be extraordinary and different from other authors they’ve read. At the time, I’d feel a sort of ego boost and simply thank them for the compliment. 

It is always the silence afterwards that hurts the most, I think. When the person leaves, they walk down the sidewalk and to their life, unsuspected to their nearing doom. A week passes and they’re found dead, run over by a bus or a sudden heart attack or their apartment complex has a gas leak and they’re never able to escape in time. They die and I’m the reason for it. The death toll is different each time, too, but it rises and rises each time someone new reads my books. 

At first, though, my writing was simple. There was a beginning, a middle, and an end. It was just that. I was working as a freelancer writer, too, and I never had a deadline. I could write and not worry as much. There is a certain joy in writing something you can enjoy. I found myself in a zone and sometimes, I would write the whole day. I lost contact with most of my friends as a  result, but I had a job to do, and it was to write. 

Who knew that could change in one day. 

Another thing I find important worth mentioning is I write on a typewriter. It is old, but it gets the work done. Many, many people use laptops, but you can never trust the internet.There are ghosts that live inside of the screens. Loved ones have died, but they’re still online, as if they’re waiting for someone to talk to them. I never want to encounter the ghosts of the past. A typewriter doesn’t have this problem, though. It works just as well as a laptop or phone can, and there is nothing like the feel of paper between your fingertips. The gentle click click of the words as they’re pressed into the paper gives me a sense of purpose when it comes to writing. The shrill sound of when you successfully finish a page, that was it for me. Surely, though, I have to adapt to the continuously changing world that is around us. 

At least, that is what my editor wants me to do. 

I’m not fond of change. As much as I want to accept the change of the days or the passing of the seasons, I can’t bring myself to it. I know by the end of the day, the end draws ever closer and at some point, as a whole, we must accept that. As I write these stories, I write endings for each and every one of them, knowing someone will read it and experience the satisfaction that comes from a complete storyline. To be an author is to be willing to accept that change will not come unless you alter the writing yourself. To be a part of the future is to be a part of the present, knowing and accepting that oftentimes than not, things will happen without your acknowledgement. 

I fear, as mentioned, the same has happened to me. 

This change… first occurred when one Olivia Gracestone had read my first piece in my new series, the ones I’ve been tasked to write by my editor. I remember the event clearly as it was at a book signing and she was very adamant about my works, even going as far as saying she had been a fan for a while. I signed the first page as she began to ramble and, as rude as this sounds, I was hardly paying attention. She left with the book and that was the last I heard from Ms. Gracestone. 

I received a call from her parents a week later. Olivia had died, tragically, in a car crash as she was passing an intersection. A speeding semi, they told me over the phone, was the reason for her death. When I had asked why they decided to call me, they had mentioned my book. Coincidentally, in the same book, the protagonist had been killed by a speeding semi, two, if I remember correctly, and it was the book that Olivia had read before she left that afternoon. She had, as her parents told me, going on about the book, describing how she really began to feel connected to the character and how they shared the same issues. College, I believe, was the main issue in that book. Olivia was going to be a freshman in college, just starting out. At the time, I brushed off these incidents as coincidences. 

The tragic death of Olivia Gracestone plagued my mind for weeks, but I continued to write because my editor was expecting something to be done by the end of that month. It was around May, I believe, I realized my works were becoming more of a problem in reality than actual fiction. As mentioned previously, I’ve grown quite a fanbase with my novels and collections, and because of that, more and more people were ready to buy my books. There were lines outside of the bookshops and talk on the internet about what my next big work would be. I was used to this type of pressure and excitement, as it was the driving force for completing my next work, which featured a small town coming together after an earthquake had occurred. 

A week passes. News coverage of a small town in Nebraska reported to have been hit by a 5.9 magnitude earthquake. Lives were lost and homes were torn apart, rattled from their foundations. Coincidences. It was all coincidences, right? I watched the news with a solemn face and told myself it was a coincidence. The feeling vanished when I saw a face of a family, faces dotted by the small pigments of the TV screen. There was a little girl… with blonde pigtails and she was crying, clutching a stuffed bunny, and her father was speaking to the newscaster with a hand firmly gripped on his daughter’s shoulder. 

I briefly encountered a bit of writer’s deja vu as I continued to watch the scene. It shifts from the little girl and her father, to the entire town, again. The image pans until it settles on a house, amongst the carnage. A female steps out of the house with a book tucked under her arm, her face concealed by the curtain of brown and in that small moment of coverage, I was able to get a good look at the cover. 

It was my newest release. 

My center of gravity had shifted and the sounds hallowed out from around me. My room darkened as thunderclouds formed outside, and at some point, I had dropped the remote. The television continued to play the scene, but my focus was blurring. Tears were falling just as the rain began to cry from the clouds outside. Pent up emotion, I believed, and realization. The thunder shook the house when I went back to my room that night. I didn’t touch my typewriter for a week, I just watched it from my bed. 

Was this my change? 

I have this one piece I’m working on. A longer piece, I’m afraid. It details the life of an older man, unnamed for the time being, and his story is harder to write. I believe it is only because I haven’t found… myself drawn to this project. 

I’m afraid to finish it, I think, because if I finish it, will that be all I’m good for? For now, I’ll continue writing about other people’s lives and ignore the deaths that continue to grow around me.

FOLLOW-UP NOTES

While none of our employees (at least the archival employees) plan on actually reading Mr. Kisler’s works, just for... safety precautions, we do have a few of his books at the institute. We sent them to Artifact Storage for further inspection, but at a glance... they seemed mostly normal. Something about them just felt... off. I don’t really know how to explain it.

They just... looked strange. But none of the others seemed to notice anything, so. I don’t know.

Mr. Kisler wasn’t available to speak to institute staff, but... there wasn’t really anything in this statement we needed further clarification on, so. We’ve looked into the events and deaths detailed here, and confirmed all of them. Whether or not the books had a part to play, it’s unclear, but it isn’t out of the realm of possibility. Reality-altering books are actually a pretty common phenomenon, considering the nature of Leitners and the like.

I think it’s safe to assume that this statement only states the truth.

[therachelperspective]

TV | Penny Dreadful (2014-2016)

This review has sat in my drafts for over a year. (It’s been a weird year, don’t judge me). Although I had a few notes sufficient enough to write a review from and could have probably have finished and posted something by now, I will honestly say that I have pondered Penny Dreadful this entire period of time. Even as I watch other series and take part in other media, every so often my mind wanders back to Penny Dreadful. Whether the show intrigued me or irked me has not entirely been decided, to the point where I am almost feel hastened to watch the show again with more attentiveness. But, just as I feel about Marvel’s Iron Fist series, I’m not sure I want to endure some of the more vexing qualities of Penny Dreadful a second time around (though I sadly will for Iron Fist as I once again attempt to complete the entire Defenders collection).

Let’s see what I can make of my long-stored memories.

Penny Dreadful derives its name from what is essentially Victorian England’s version of a comic book, typically with narratives of crime or violence. As per Britannica, these eight-page installments – also called “dime novels” or “bloods” – were carelessly written second-rate works full of gory themes. While I wouldn’t say the series to be careless or second-rate, it definitely hits the crime, violence, and horror right on the nose to give its namesake proper honor.

Set in the late 1800s, Penny Dreadful bears resemblance to The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen in that it includes characters from various works of classic literature, though Penny Dreadful sticks to the obvious era of Victorian Gothic. Although its main characters Sir Malcolm Murray (Timothy Dalton), Vanessa Ives (Eva Green), and Ethan Chandler (Josh Hartnett) were created for the show, its supporting cast are directly named after major literary characters – Dorian Gray (Reeve Carney), Dr. Victor Frankenstein (Harry Treadaway) and his Creature (Rory Kinnear), as well as brief appearances throughout by Mina Harker, Abraham Van Helsing, Dr. Henry Jekyll (sadly, while the science is included, Jekyll’s own counterpart Hyde was not), Dracula, and Justine (from The Misfortunes of Virtue). It has been discussed online that the character of Malcolm is based on famed adventurer Allan Quartermain from King Solomon’s Mines and, by name, obviously a derivative of Mina Murray’s father from Dracula; however, he was not mentioned in the novel. Similarly, Vanessa Ives is said to be based on Mina’s best friend Lucy Westenra. Furthermore, the story arc of Brona, who then becomes “Lily Frankenstein,” shares obvious similarities to that of the Bride of Frankenstein.

The rich inspiration from classic literature is what initially drew me to watch Penny Dreadful, along with the hype I read when it was initially released in 2014. Despite the fact that I am typically not one for horror-based film or television, I undertook the task regardless. Per my usual reasoning (I swear I write this in everything and I apologize lol), I wanted to discover for myself if it was truly as great as the critics say. And dare I say, it was actually true for the first season. I remember posting something on Instagram stating how I understood the public interest in the show and that I was excited to continue on. While it has no doubt been some time since I’ve viewed the material, I distinctly remember my personal fascination dwindle shortly thereafter. Had I any sort of ability to abandon the media I try to consume, it might have caused me to not finish the show. But alas, I’m one of those hopefuls that thinks maybe it will get better. Plus, can you really say you watched something if you didn’t watch the entire thing? My answer: no. Must watch it all to have a proper opinion!

Wherein the first season focuses primarily on finding a kidnapped Mina Murray, with tolerable amounts of arc for Frankenstein, his creature, the mysterious Ethan Chandler, and Dorian Gray...  the latter seasons revolving around witches and “nightcomers” (season two), and Dracula (season three) – as well as the constant battles between Frankenstein’s scientist vs. his creations, the dragged out uncovering of Ethan’s background, and Dorian’s inability to keep it in his pants – just didn’t seem to have the same charm to me as the initial season. Maybe it was the story? Were these the best “big bads” writers could come up with? I suppose, yes, considering the source material of that particular period, there’s only so much to work with. But to have the first season’s enemy be simply a vampire and the third season’s Dracula, it seems to me like missed opportunity (like using Dracula in his actual storyline) or they were really just recycling material. You used vampires once already; was doing it again with one buffer season in between really your only option?

Other nagging details that truthfully somewhat prevent me from watching the series again include things like: how much of Vanessa’s “dialogue” actually includes Eva Green’s ability to make guttural sounds; how certain arcs overwhelmed the series (like Frankenstein’s Creature and Lily, though kudos to Penny Dreadful for exploring their thoughts/feelings that other films or shows have not), compared to others tales that were not fleshed out enough; characters from literature left me wanting more, even if I did already know their mythos (Dorian, for example, was merely only a brief glimpse at his portrait, no explanation of its mysticism); and lastly, Lily’s entire story felt too much for me. While I admire the show’s portrayal of feminism, body autonomy, and a sense of sisterhood amongst Lily and her “army,” her approach to these topics also felt preachy and eventually fell more into a “savior” complex. I can understand the rediscovery of life as a newly reanimated human, re-comprehending life and death, not allowing any man to “own” her purely based on his say-so... but the way the show writers approached it was not my favorite. Billie Piper was great in her role, but towards the end of her arc, I was bored with Lily’s endeavors.

My biggest pet peeve surrounding this show, however, was actual a very random detail – Ethan and Brona (Lily, in her previous life) had a very intense relationship during the first season before she succumbs to illness. How is it, despite both of their prominence in the show and their respective arcs, as well as mutual acquaintances with other characters, that Ethan never ever crossed paths with Lily at all once she was reborn? Was it because he would obviously recognize her as Brona and writers didn’t know how to incorporate that detail into the show? Was it because they wanted Lily to remain purely a character in Frankenstein’s and Dorian’s arcs? Someone please answer this for me, because it drives me nuts.

All in all, Penny Dreadful started strong and I did enjoy it at first, but its subsequent seasons and finale felt less than spectacular. What was once an enjoyable suspenseful thriller turned into a psychological drama looking to interpret everyone’s personal issues and traumas rather than working together for a common, supernatural cause. Where the first season saw everyone as a collective group, I feel the show slowly but surely lost its charm by increasing their solo arcs without much interaction amongst everyone as a whole. It’s not to say that they never spoke to one another (Ethan and Lily being the exception), but their interactivity became increasingly minimal. I will give writers some credit in that, for some characters, this solitude reflected their emotions and was necessary for their arc. But maybe I just believe the show was better when the ensemble was a more cohesive whole.

[looselucy]

Guilt

July 15th “I don’t really remember the first time I started work on the Blood Sun.” Styles tells us, sitting in his quiet New York gallery whilst sipping slowly on a glass of wine, a deep red. “I don’t know if I’ve blocked it out. I know it started with the idea of thunder and lightning, but it veered from that pretty quickly. I had an idea what I wanted from the painting emotionally. I don’t know if I got that with the end product, but I knew I couldn’t get that from thunder. It had to be a sun.”

I was sat in PJ’s in silence, scrolling through a relatively recent article about Harry on my phone as I waited for my breakfast. I had always tried to avoid going online to read about him, because I knew whatever I saw was likely to be monitored and watered down, not even by those reporting on him, but by Harry himself. He was never going to share intimate truths so publicly, so there was nothing real for me to learn, but it had been so much harder to avoid since he’d sent me the painting. I wanted to know what he’d said about it, if he’d mentioned anything about selling it or not. I needed to know everything I could. Styles must be bored of answering questions about his most celebrated work at this point, but it is by far his most intriguing. Not only is the painting spectacular, with stunning mixes of oranges, yellows, and the artists own blood, but it’s a piece he seems to be refusing to sell – no matter how high the offer. “I don’t make art for it to be sold. I make art to express. If selling was the reason I painted, I would have given this up a long time ago. I never saw that as a reason to paint, it was always to do with the feeling, the emotion. I guess the therapeutic side of it, too. I’m not going to sell a piece for the sake of it.” I should have known he would have started painting again when he’d left, but that seemed like confirmation, what with him saying he would have given it up. I didn’t know how to feel about it. Of course I wanted him to continue with his passion, work in a way that showed his talents, made his life beyond comfortable, but it was what came with his painting that made me uneasy. I hadn’t seen anything expressing that he no longer used blood, and I thought that would have be a focal point had it been the case. I cursed his agent, leaping viciously to the conclusion that it was him who kept Harry in the frame of mind, convinced him that he had to paint with blood or people would lose interest. I was sure of it. I took a deep breath in and continued. “That painting means more to me than any number, I don’t think I’ll ever sell it, per se. I’m not even accepting offers anymore.” I question if his new work that he will soon reveal is a way of distracting people from the painting, moving on. “Partially.” He admits. “But it’s also a new time for me. It’s new work, paintings I’m really excited to share. I’m looking forward to seeing how I end up feeling about all this new stuff. What I want to sell, what I don’t. We’ll see.” What Harry has managed to achieve with his art is remarkable. It’s not merely the power of his paintings, something that is preposterously palpable if you’re lucky enough to be in the same room as one. And it’s not limited to the success he’s had, the respect he’s received from his peers ever since he was granted a scholarship when he was still a teenager. It’s the emotions that his work inspires. He is quiet, but with purpose. He doesn’t talk about the inspiration behind each of his pieces, what makes him paint – instead, he throws you in head first to figure it out alone. You are never told what to see or how to feel, every brush of paint open to interpretation. Styles never ties you to the idea of what his work should be, instead his art is open, free of chains, exposing you to the truth of your own emotions rather than lumbering you with the truth of his. There is something magic in his secrecy that allows you to feel personally connected to his work, your feelings valid. In his less is more approach, you are left feeling as much a part of his art as he is. He connects with his consumer by saying so little, a truly impressive feat. Harry Styles is not ours to know, but his masterpieces are, and that’s exactly why our relationship with this extraordinary artist works. Reaching the end of the article, I locked my phone, leaning back in my chair and taking a deep breath inward, the words resting heavily on my chest. It wasn’t even necessarily what they’d been saying in the write-up, not really, it was more the strange sensation of reading about him that way at all. The Blood Sun was still sitting where I had found it. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with it, I didn’t even have the space in my flat, not that I thought it would even get through the door. It was almost as though I didn’t dare move it, fear of damaging it, fear of admitting it was mine to damage. It had been almost a fortnight since I’d received it, touched it for the first time, breathed it in, but it hadn’t moved and inch and I was still perfectly clueless. I’d cried that night when I’d got home. Once we were back on the shop floor, I’d managed to get through most of the day at work without talking about it, without really even thinking about it, but the second I closed my front door, I burst into tears. I stood at the bottom of the stairs and just allowed myself to completely shatter, freeing whatever emotion had felt so imprisoned. I hadn’t really stopped thinking about him since, slowly driving myself insane with wild thoughts of the boy I’d once known, the boy who’d left my life and then re-entered it in the most spectacular and elaborate way. I didn’t want to think about him because it didn’t help. Even with him sending me that painting, it didn’t give me any leads, any answers; I still felt entirely powerless. But what was playing on my mind relentlessly was the knowledge that he had been thinking of me. Since he had departed from my life, I’d managed to convince myself that he no longer thought of me at all, that I would never cross his mind. I had been sure he was simply getting on with his life and I had become a hazy memory of his, another girl he had once been with for a few months of his life, another mistake. It was one of the things that had helped me to get over him, to know I wasn’t even beneath his skin enough for him to have dig me out. I told myself that I’d barely scratched the surface. Him sending me that painting made me feel differently. To know he had sat and thought of me, gone out of his way to make sure I became the owner of his most personal work. He wouldn’t have done something so grand on a whim, meaning without doubt that I had been playing on his mind. I wondered how he felt when he thought of me. I wondered what emotions I might stir. I hoped they were positive, and judging by the nature of his gesture they may well have been, but then again maybe his feelings towards me were as complex as mine towards him. Some days I’d think of him and feel happy, grateful we had what we did, that I experienced love in its truest form, even though it wasn’t reciprocated. I had loved him, and I was fortunate to have been able to feel that way about someone who so rarely let people into his life. Yet other days, the thought of us produced anger. Others, upset. Others, longing. It seemed impossible to look back on something so formidable with limited and lax emotions. I knew I wouldn’t find the answers to any of my questions in any article, but it was the only option I had. “Here we are.” Paula approached cheerily, placing my Eggs Benedict down in front of me. “Do you want me to top your coffee up?” “Please.” I sighed as she started pouring the dark liquid from the old-fashioned compressor into my mug. “You look knackered.” She sounded concerned. “Everything okay?” “Couldn’t really sleep.” I looked up to her. “Think I’ve only had a couple of hours.” “Any reason?” “Um… Dunno. I don’t think so. My minds just been working overtime recently. I can’t seem to shut off.” I hadn’t been sleeping well for what I felt was a variety of reasons. No matter how much I tried, how tired I was, it was like I’d get into bed and my head would just start spinning, conjuring up all these questions and ideas and worries that simply didn’t allow me to drift off. And the longer that lasted the worse it got, gradually becoming alarmingly aware that I should have been fast asleep. I’d start counting how many minutes and hours it would be until I had to get up and face another day on so little sleep, tossing and turning and losing my mind. That morning, I must have only drifted off at around 4AM, and yet still I awoke just before 7AM, and I couldn’t get back to sleep. That was why I’d headed to PJ’s, getting in a good meal and an abundance of coffee before I opened the shop for the day. “How longs that been going on?” “Couple’a weeks.” I tried to shrug it off. “It’s nothing, really. M’fine.” “Alright.” She griped, unsure. “I’ll always have free coffee here for you, if you need it.” “Thanks, Paula.” She squeezed my shoulder encouragingly before getting back to work, leaving me to tuck into my meal and pray that the coffee would be enough to see me through the day, because the amount of sleep I’d had certainly wasn’t enough on its own. I was only a few mouthfuls into my first meal of the day when the front door to PJ’s opened, my eyes instinctively lifting upwards to see who’d walked in. It was Chloe and Sam. Though things were okay between the three of us, it still felt awkward then. It was early, there was only one other person there, an old bloke who was sat in the corner keeping himself to himself. It was like it was just the three of us, which made for a rather uncomfortable atmosphere. There was no anger there, no hatred, but that didn’t mean we were at ease. “Hey.” I smiled to them both after swallowing my food, grateful I hadn’t started choking on it the second they’d walked through the door. “Hiya.” Sam greeted, straightening his back out. “Hi.” Chloe barely whispered. I felt bad for her, in some ways. She had never quite figured out how to be around me, weighed down by her guilt even though she shouldn’t have been, and I’d expressed that to her more than once. They shuffled past me, going over to the counter to order some food, whispering between themselves. It was so stupidly awkward, so much worse than it should have been. They’d been together for well over a year at that point, it shouldn’t have been that bad! I sat thinking to myself, knowing it was likely that the reason it was so bad was because we’d let it be. We hadn’t put the effort in to make sure we were all okay with each other, we hadn’t put the effort in and gone out of our way to avoid the awkwardness of our affiliations. We had to get past it. I took another bite, regretting my decision before I’d even voiced my thoughts but I knew what I wanted to do, and as long as I’d put the effort in, that was the best I could do. Once I’d heard that they’d finished ordering, I turned around, closing my eyes and blurting it out. “Do you wanna sit with me?” I opened my eyes to find them both looking at me like I’d gone mad. They were probably right. “Are you… I… Wh-what?” Sam blundered. “Do you wanna… sit… with me?” I said again. “We could just… y’know… talk, or whatever.” “Are you serious?” Chloe dazzled, dumbstruck and emotional. “Have we… done something wrong?” Sam asked me. “No! Nothing, I just… I can’t stand this.” I exhaled. “I hate being this awkward with you both, we need to push past it. So would you just… fucking sit down so we can get over ourselves and just be normal? We’re too old for this bullshit.” Sam just looked amused, sniggering to himself as he sat down on one of the chairs across from me, Chloe following close behind. She was different. She looked as though she could burst into tears at any moment. She sat down, biting her lip to hold back tears as Sam dove straight in with questions, asking about me, about my dad, updating me on how his mum was. I kept catching her from the corner of my eye and she wasn’t settling. She couldn’t ease at all. It was clear she still struggled, with all of it. It was hard for her to sit there with a friend she’d lost, knowing it had happened because of choices she had made. I knew that was why she got upset when she was around me. There’s nothing quite like love, the power it holds over you. I had to be conscious of the reasons why she chose Sam, even when that meant losing her friends. When love is that strong, it doesn’t care about anyone else, who it hurts, what it breaks. When love is that strong, it’s a force to be reckoned with, its pawns powerless to its forces. I’d seen throughout my life that most people would do anything to save love, to keep it in their hearts for as long as possible, whatever the cost. It might have seemed odd, the abundance of sacrifices she’d had to make just to be with him, but their love had told her to do that, to fight for him. I hoped he was worth it. I hoped that every loss paled when she looked at him, when that love took over. The only problem was that when she was around us, and me specifically, it didn’t feel that easy. She’d get upset, she’d realise how much she missed us, how much she missed how things had been. She hadn’t just lost me when her and Sam had gotten together, it had slowly picked a lot of her friends out of her life, but it centred around me. It was so difficult to admit that we’d never be the same again. It was gutting to come to terms with the fact that we’d lost something so good. My only comfort was knowing that she’d gained from it in some way or another. That morning with her was a quiet one, conversation mainly being held between Sam and I as she put most of her energy into holding herself together, not breaking, reminding herself of the reasons things had changed so much. But as far as I was concerned, anything was better than how we had been for the past year or so. Anything was an improvement.

“Here she is!” Niall yelled when I stepped into The Tin Mouse that evening, everyone greeting me cheerily; all except Lin, who didn’t really do anything, staring blankly at me as I cautiously approached the table. I was feeling rather anxious, my hands dug into the pockets of my denim jacket, pressing my lips together tightly. I didn’t really want to be there, to be honest. “Hi.” I just about smiled, taking a deep breath inward before I spoke. “Shall I get a round in?” Quite purposefully, I’d been running rather late, meaning they were all at the end of their drinks by the time I got there. They put in their requests quickly, all rather distracted and chirpy, meaning it took longer than it should have. Lin still hadn’t said a word by the time I was heading over to the bar, but I knew he’d grab at his opportunity. I’d only just put in the large order when I noticed him leap up to his feet and storm over to me, his voice leaden and irked when he spoke. “Why’ve you been ignoring me?” “I haven’t.” I protested. “Well, that’s fucking weird, because you haven’t answered any of my calls or my texts. You didn’t come to watch the match on Monday, you haven’t been at the pub.” He was angry, and I was fighting tears. “Don’t treat me like a fucking idiot, Alf, I know what’s going on.” I hadn’t meant to avoid him. I didn’t want to create an atmosphere. I didn’t want him to be angry with me. I didn’t want a lot of things that had come into fruition of late. What I had wanted, was to continue being honest and upfront with him, but receiving that painting and that note from Harry had somehow made everything with Lin feel twice as difficult. Because I knew it had to end. It had been hard enough to admit to him that I wasn’t sure on my feelings and what was happening between us, so it would have been even harder to be blunt and really end things, to tell him that I could finally make sense of the mess in my own mind. I knew it wasn’t right, that’s what my head was telling me, that’s what my gut was telling me. That’s what my heart was telling me. I just didn’t know how I was supposed to tell him. He waited for me to say something, my throat dry and tight as I tried to figure it out. “Please don’t be mad at me.” I whispered. “I don’t want to be mad at you, Alfie, I’m just frustrated!” He whelped. “Because if I knew asking you out would have led to this, I wouldn’t have fucking done it. I don’t think you understand how much I don’t wanna lose you, Alf! I can’t!” I looked right past him, staring over his shoulder and concentrating on the back door that would lead out to the beer garden, because looking in his eyes summoned too many emotions, ones I couldn’t supress. He made being opaque sound so easy, like it wouldn’t involve hurting his feelings and choking up over every single wrong word. I didn’t know how to handle it, what I should or shouldn’t say, and I certainly didn’t want to tell Lin that the main thing that had driven me away from even thinking about him in a romantic way was the delivery of a fucking painting. “Don’t avoid me, please!” He went on. “Just be honest. I can take it.” “It’s not as easy as that.” “It is! I’m telling you, it is! Because by not saying it, you’re saying it anyway. So, you might as well bite the bullet.” He sighed, wound his jaw. “Put me out of my misery. Please.” He just wanted it to be over, maybe even more than I did, but for different reasons. We were both in agony for different reasons and it needed to end. “I don’t wanna do this here.” I started to cry. I felt like all I did was fucking cry. “Fuck, don’t get upset. Oh shit. I don’t want you to feel guilty or sad, please don’t cry. If it’s not right, then it’s not.” He reached to grab my hand, pulling it away from my face as I tried to hide my tears. “You’ve just gotta be honest with me about it. I knew I was running a risk when I asked you, I just wanna be kept in the loop!” “Lin, it’s not that easy!” I wept. “I care about you so much and I didn’t wanna hurt your feelings. And I’ve had such a shit couple of weeks. I’ve been so sad and-” “That’s… the opposite of how I want you to feel!” He wailed. “C’mere. Wipe those bloody tears away, eh? I don’t wanna see you sad. Don’t be sad, not for my sake.” He held my cheeks steadily in his hands, wiping his thumbs beneath my eyes to dry my tears on my behalf, shaking his head like I was being silly, which made me laugh. He was good at that. It was obvious he was irritated with how I’d handled things since our date, but he was still trying to keep things sweet between us in any way he could, whilst also getting his point across. I sucked it up as much as I could as he wiped away a few more tears, talking calmly as he did. “Are you crying because of me? Did I go in too hard?” “No.” I shook my head. “I just feel bad. I didn’t want it to go like this.” “No… I can’t say I did either.” He chuckled uneasily. “It just… It doesn’t feel right. I wish it did, but it doesn’t.” He dropped his hands whilst my tears terminated progressively. “I don’t want-” “LIN, WHY’RE YOU MAKING ALFIE CRY?” Niall yelled from across the room. “NIALL, SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Lin yelled back, proceeding to mentally block him out. “For fuck sake. Someone needs to tell that lad that it’s not always appropriate to drop a joke.” Despite the fact that I agreed, we were both still sort of laughing, shaking our heads and rolling our eyes. “I think we should probably do this another time.” I whispered, wiping away the last of my tears. “Sorry for getting mad.” “Sorry for avoiding you. I’d be mad too. And sorry for crying. You should be able to be pissed off without me crying and making you feel bad.” Abruptly, he moved in and wrapped his arms around me, releasing a swell of air that had be stuck in his chest. We could hear Niall whinging whimsically about how they were all waiting on their drinks, which were now sitting on top of the bar waiting to be paid for and waiting to be carried over to their consumers, but we had things to say. After quite some time, Lin pulled out of the hug but remained close, pressing his forehead against mine and speaking quietly, still trying to block out our surroundings, his hand latched against the back of my neck. I breathed him in, eased. “We’ll be okay, I promise. I don’t really know where we go from here, but-” “Harry?” I heard Louis yell through the bar, and I knew. Before I’d even turned around, I knew. I could tell from the sound of his voice, the perfect blend of surprise and terror. I knew and yet it didn’t seem real. Not until I watched Lin lift his head to gaze over the top of mine, eyes and mouth wide. “Holy shit, Harry’s here.” I whipped my whole body around a second later so I was facing the right way, so I could see for myself. That was the moment I locked eyes with Harry for the first time in over a year. He was completely motionless, so still and beautiful and perfect I could hardly comprehend that he was real, an image frozen in time and likely captured in my mind forever. He was stood in the doorway staring forward, right at me, as though he wasn’t conscious of anything else. It was just me and him and the static canvas we had become. His emotions were difficult to decipher, looking as shocked as I must have even though it was him who’d turned up out of nowhere. He hadn’t stepped foot in that pub since the previous May, but he was gazing right at me as though I had entered his space, like it was my presence that was the cause for alarm. He looked hurt, in ways. Those seconds felt like a lifetime, only able to snap out of my daze when Niall crashed his body against Harry’s, threw his arm around his neck. “What the hell are you doing here?” Libby howled excitedly as she approached him. “Are you moving back?” Niall asked whilst hugging the life out of him. “Please tell me you’re moving back.” It was then that Harry managed to pull his eyes away, and so did I, darting my vision to the left to look at Louis, who was already staring at me with wide eyes. “What the fuck?” He mouthed mutely. I found that my eyes drew back to Harry within seconds, like a magnet. His were back on me. He looked amazing. He always did. Even when he was exhausted and drained, his body had a certain shine to it that I’d never seen the likes of before and would never see again. Maybe I saw him in some divine light, but staring at him then I felt sure that simply, he was magnificent; radiant, powerful, immersed in splendour. “Uh…” Harry eventually began to grumble as Niall detached himself, looking away from me but not looking at anyone else, his gaze shooting down to the floor. “I dunno why I’m here. Sorry, I… I should go.” “What? You just got here?” Niall keened. Lin tried to edge past me to get closer to Harry, attempt to convince him to stick around like the rest of them were doing, all confused and stunned by his presence but desperate for him to stay. As he moved, Lin placed his hand on my waist gently, tenderly trying to edge me closer to the group to help with encouraging Harry to stay, but that minor action seemed to have the opposite effect. Harry witnessed the trivial exchange and withdrew completely. “No, m’sorry, I can’t do this.” He walked backwards, pushing his weight against the front door to open it without looking. “I dunno why I came, I’m sorry.” “The fuck, Harry?” Niall, Libby and Louis were all so dumbfounded they could barely move, just watching him back himself out of there. “What is going on?” It was rather clear he was overwhelmed, and I didn’t necessarily think it was the sole reason, but I knew that he was piqued by what he’d seen between Lin and I. He’d always had his paranoias, and though they still felt rather misplaced, he hadn’t been entirely delusional. The last time we had been together, we had kissed and held one another so intensely, the situation overflowing with passion and heartbreak. That was the last physical contact we’d had. Following that, he’d sent me a painting that was closer to his heart than most of the people in his life could ever hope to be. No matter how we’d ended or the complications we’d faced, I predicted that he saw me in a similar way to how I saw him – that in some way, we would always belong to one another. I would never be okay seeing him with someone else, and he didn’t want to see me with another man. Our history was too strong. For him to see me for the first time over a year later, another boys hand in my hair and lips close to mine. I knew I wouldn’t have wanted to see him and another woman like that, whether it meant something or not. I knew that was one of the reasons he desired a swift exit. “I shouldn’t have come. I don’t wanna interrupt, m’just gunna go. I promise I’ll see you soon, I promise, I just… Fuck.” With that final curse word he was outside, the door closing behind him. There were only a few seconds of shocked silence before Louis turned and bellowed to me. “Alfie, for fuck sake, go after him!” With no plan, no thought process and nothing to guide me, I ran out the door to catch him. I could barely make sense of a single thing, all I knew was that I couldn’t let him walk away without putting up a fight. I was terrified that if I let him walk away, that would be the last of it. Harry was sometimes hard to read, difficult to predict, and despite recent actions, I knew the chances of him disappearing from my life completely, never to seen or heard from again, were large. I knew there was a chance that this could be the very last time I saw him, and that was more likely if I didn’t go after him. I had too many questions that needed answering; why he was there, why he’d sent me the painting, how he had been for the past year. I wanted answers, and then if he wanted to leave he could. I could only hope that he desired the same closure I did. “Harry!” I yelled as soon as I could. He had his head down, walking central down the countrylane, heading towards town, towards the house where he used to live, towards a history he didn’t want to face.  He tried to ignore me, not wanting to acknowledge my presence. I was so fucking confused. “HARRY!” I yelled again once I was out on the road, and he had to stop then, coming to a complete standstill but not turning to look at me. “What the fuck are you doing?” He didn’t answer. “Why’re you here?” “I… I don’t know.” He slowly turned around, but kept his line if vision right on the ground ahead of his feet. “It was stupid, m’sorry, I’m just gunna leave. I thought I was ready for this and I… I’m really not, so-” “Ready for what?” “Being back here. Seeing… I-I can’t. I have to leave.” He set off again, running his hand through his hair, clearly wanting nothing more than to get away from me. Though I could feel my frustration bubbling, I kept it locked down, remaining still and watching him walk away. “Why did you send me that painting?” I asked tersely, breathless, and that brought him to a standstill once again. I was surprised by how calm I sounded. Even when he turned back around and lifted his head to look at me, I remained still, serene, patiently awaiting his answer. He blinked, strangely acting as though he hadn’t been expecting me to question him on that, like he thought we’d both look past it, like it was regular, expected. “Because… it’s yours.” He eventually managed an answer, speaking as though it was obvious. “No one else deserves it.” “Har-” “I need to go, Alfie. I’m sorry.” He started walking backwards once again, not wanting to delay his departure. “I’m sorry for showing up, I-” “Wait… Fuck, I’m so… Don’t you think we need to talk?” “No. I can’t. Just… Forget about it, okay?” He shuddered. “I’ve got so many fucking questions, Harry! How do you expect me to just forget this?” “Will you tell them I’m sorry?” He said, and when I remained silent, stunned, he turned around and picked up his pace. I wished he’d called me Fee-Fee. I didn’t fully understand why that was my first thought, but all I knew was that I craved to hear him call me by that nickname he had so fondly adopted. I longed for that familiarity, that sense that we knew one another, that we had a history, because as he was walking away from me then, he truly felt like a stranger. The only thing that felt the same was the way he was running away from a situation that was more complicated than he’d bargained for. Exasperated, I picked up the pace and followed his footsteps, diminishing the space between us and then jumping so I was directly in front of him, forcing him to stop. We were mere inches apart. “Alfie-” “I don’t give a fuck if you don’t want to talk to me, Harry, that’s fine!” I fumed, retrieving my phone from my pocket and searching through it, unable to look him in the eye now we were so close. “I stopped expecting things from you when you fucking left, I’m past it. But you need to speak to your mum. Here.” I held my phone out ahead of him, keeping my eyes on his chest but putting the screen right before his eyes, the contact information for his mother brightening his face. “Wh-what?” “It’s your mum’s number. Take it. Call her.” “But-” “If you don’t, I fucking will. Please step up and do it, Harry. She’s desperate to hear from you.” “How… How do you-” “I spoke to her about you, and I don’t even care if you’re angry with me. I really don’t fucking care anymore, because this is your way to reach her and that’s all that mattered to me. And now you know that she does want you to reach out for her, she tried to reach you, so you’ve got no excuse. Take it, call her. Please.” He was shell-shocked for a little while, taking his time before he reached into his pocket to retrieve his poor excuse for a phone, some old looking thing that didn’t look like it would still function, typing the number he could see and then hopefully saving it to his phone, but I didn’t check to confirm that. I just had to hope he was listening to me, and that I’d said enough for him to finally get in touch with Julia again. “You done?” I asked bluntly. “Uh… Yeah.” “Okay, I’ve done my part, so leave. I don’t care.” I huffed, moving past him, my shoulder colliding with his rather lethally. I had spent the past few months of my life trying to pick him away from my memories, some sort of survival technique I had attempted to adapt, tearing even the tiniest detail from my thoughts. Even down to the simplest thing, like the exact colour of his eyes, the precise shade of green. I had almost forgotten that colour, and the second I was close enough to reacquaint myself, I daren’t look, daren’t remind myself. Or maybe I daren’t acknowledge that I’d never really forgotten. I never could. One last thing held me back before I left him there alone, went back to trying to forget. I rotated to face him again, seeing he hadn’t moved. “And I’d fire your agent, if I was you.” I said. “What?” He turned slightly, enough so he could see me. “Your mum got in touch with him and he never told you. Fire him, he doesn’t give a fuck about you.” His hurt and his horror were clear within his face even though he didn’t say a single thing. I didn’t give him much of an opportunity to reply, really. I had done what I wanted to do, placed the responsibility and the knowledge within his hands, and then it was his to handle, his to deal with however he felt was best. I had hopes, but I certainly didn’t expect anything from him. Not after everything. As I walked away from him, I could feel tears building, like my heart was breaking all over again, like I was losing him all over again even though I’d never gotten him back. Truthfully, he had never been mine to lose.

[letterboxd]

Satisfied?

We examine what Letterboxd reviews of Hamilton reveal about the musical’s cultural currency in 2020.

In this absolutely insane year, when our love of movies feels helpless in the face of pandemic-induced economic collapse, some extremely good decisions are being made on behalf of audiences. Studio Ghibli on streaming platforms. Virtual screenings to support art house cinemas. Free streaming of many important films about Black experience. And: Disney+ releasing the filmed version of Hamilton: An American Musical—recorded at the Richard Rodgers Theater in 2016 with most of its original Broadway cast—a year ahead of schedule, on Independence Day weekend.

“Superlative pop art,” writes Wesley of the filmed musical. “Hamilton wears its influences and themes on its sleeve, and it’s all the better for it. Lin-Manuel Miranda and his team employ an unlikely cocktail of not only hip-hop and showtunes, but also jazz (‘What’d I Miss?’), British-Invasion pop-rock (‘You’ll Be Back’), folk music (‘Dear Theodosia’) and Shakespeare (‘Take a Break’) in service of developing an impressively vast array of themes. This is a testament to the power of writing, an immigrant narrative, a cautionary tale about ambition, a tragic family drama, and a reevaluation of who decides the narrative of history.”

2016 may only be a half-decade ago, but it feels like an eon in American political years. With theaters dark and America’s long record of racism under urgent scrutiny, the complex smash-hit lands back in the spotlight at an interesting time. Is Hamilton “the most offensive cultural artefact of the last decade”, as Lee writes? Or “timeless and wholly of the moment”, as Tom suggests? The answer, according to a deep read of your Letterboxd reviews, is “all of the above”.

First things first: why now?

Sophie has a theory:

“Disney executive: Hey we’re losing a lot of money because our parks are closed. How do we start making money again?

Other Disney executive: It might be nice, it might be nice… to get Hamilton on our side.”

Sure, business. Still, it’s historically unprecedented that a Broadway show of this caliber (a record-setting sixteen Tony nominations, eleven wins, plus a Grammy and a Pulitzer) would be filmed and released to the public while it’s still, in a Covid-free universe, capable of filling theaters every night. Will people stay away when Broadway reopens because they’re all Disney+’d out?

No chance, reckons Erika. “I’d still kill to see Hamilton live with any cast… I get why producers are afraid that these videos might hurt ticket sales, but I’m fucking ready to buy a ticket and fly to NY one day just to see as many shows as I can after watching this.”

Not every musical fan has the resources to travel, often waiting years for a touring version to come near their hometown. And even if you do live in a town with Hamilton, the ticket price is beyond many; a daily lottery the only way some of us get to go. So Holly-Beth speaks for many when she writes: “I entered the Hamilton lottery every day for almost two years but I never got to be in the room where it happens… however, this 4K recording of the original cast will do very nicely for now! Finally getting to see the context and performances after obsessing over the music for years was so, so satisfying.”

“Finally” is a common theme. Sydnie writes, “I love this musical with every fiber of my body and it was an extraordinary experience finally getting to watch it in Australia”. Flogic: “To finally be able to put the intended visuals to a soundtrack that I’ve had on repeat for such a long time: goosebumps for 160 minutes.” Newt Potter: “Now I fully understand people’s love for this masterpiece of a musical!”

I’ve got a small query for you.

Where’s the motherfucking swearing? Unsurprisingly, Disney+ comes with some limitations. For Hamilton, it’s the loss of a perfectly placed F-word.

“I know Disney is ‘too pure’ to let a couple of ‘fucks’ slip by,” writes Fernando, “but come on, it’s kind of distracting having the sound go out completely when they sing the very satisfying ‘Southern Motherfucking Democratic Republicans!’ line.”

Will agrees: “Disney cutting ‘motherfucking’ from ‘Washington on Your Side’ felt like sacrilege akin to Mickey Mouse taking an eyebrow pencil to the Mona Lisa.”

Nevertheless, sings Allison:

“Even tho Disney stripped the story of its f***s, Don’t think for a moment that it sucks.”

(Yes, she has a vegan alert for Hamilton.)

Does it throw away its shot?

The crew filmed two regular shows in front of live audiences, with additional audience-less sessions for a dolly, crane and Steadicam to capture specific numbers. The vast majority of you are satisfied. “It’s the most engaging and expertly crafted life filming I’ve seen since Stop Making Sense,” writes ArtPig. “The film does an incredible job of placing you right in the action. It feels like the best seat you could get in the theater. You can see the sweat and spit.”

“Translates perfectly onto the small screen,” agrees Ollie. “There’s a level of intimacy that feels hard to replicate in any other filmed production. We see those close ups, the passion and gusto behind every actor’s performance.”

“Shockingly cinematic for something filmed on such a small stage,” is Technerd’s succinct summary, while Paul praises director Thomas Kail: “He knows when to back away along with moving nearer when appropriate, and the choices always serve to govern the power and stamina of the performances.”

Though cast members’ voices were recorded on individual audio tracks, Noah had a few quibbles with the sound quality. “Some of the audio capture is off in the recording, sometimes voices being too soft or too loud. It’s not immersion breaking, but it is noticeable enough to irk me a little in pivotal moments. Some of the shot composition doesn’t fully work either. Of course nothing is going to be as good as seeing it in person.”

Robert, recalling another recent cinematic escapade of musical theater, lets his poetry do the talking:

“This will do for now until the true movie’s made, Though if Hooper directs, there’ll be an angry tirade.”

I think your pants look hot.

Hamilton fans have their cast favorites, but something about being able to see Jonathan Groff’s spittle and Leslie Odom Jr’s scowls in 4K has you losing it all over again. Several specific shout-outs we enjoyed:

“Daveed Diggs the Legend! Go watch Blindspotting (2018), it’s one of the best movies ever!” —Kyle

“It’s hard to believe anyone will ever top Leslie Odom Jr. as Aaron Burr. I already loved him from the original cast recording, but seeing his full performance in all its glory was just godly.” —Erika

“Thankful that it was made possible for me to view with such clarity the phenomenon that is Renée Elise Goldsberry and spectacular Phillipa Soo.” —Thea

“Daveed Diggs was electrifying and Jonathan Groff was absolutely hilarious. If they interacted together the stage would’ve combusted from the sheer will of their talent.” —Nick

This is not a game.

On one hand, the release of Hamilton is sweet relief for music theater nerds riding out the pandemic. A generation of kids knows every word by heart, rapping (this version of) American history like it’s no thing. On the other, the Obama-era musical already feels behind-the-times, even for many Hamilton lovers, and the filmed version has brought that into sharp focus.

“I listened to the OG cast album about 50 times when it came out, the production is about as good as I’d always hoped,” writes Josh. “Since then however there’s been a very important and broader reckoning with the failures of neoliberalism and the Obama years ([from] which this has to be the most emblematic piece of art) and for me personally a drifting further to the left that has resulted in a very different relationship with the material. So my feelings today are a bit more complicated.”

“Hamilton is extremely non-committal about its politics,” writes Sting. “It doesn’t examine much of what Hamilton dictated besides ‘he wants complete financial control of the country’ (which would sound like a fucking supervillain in any other context, including reality).”

That lack of political commitment, reckons Morgan, is what helped Hamilton as a musical become so popular: “It’s fun. It’s catchy. It interweaves trendy and socially relevant artistic tools to infer a subversive subtext, while simultaneously sanitizing and, at times, flat out fabricating the historical narrative and downplaying the brutality of the true origin story, for the sake of appeasing those in power. Classic Bill Shakespeare stuff.”

History has its eyes on you.

Much criticism lies with the fundamental storytelling decision to make a modern ruckus about America’s Founding Fathers, the men (including Alexander Hamilton) who in the late eighteenth century united the thirteen colonies and co-wrote the Constitution. Undisputed titans of history, they also have blood on their hands, and HoneyRose writes that the musical “glorifies these men, and paints them as self-sacrificing heroes, and honestly normalizes and validates slavery, as well as the behavior of slave owners.”

Stevie, who saw the Broadway production as well as the filmed version, confesses: “I’ve tried (I’ve really tried) to understand what makes people lose their minds over this but I’m still completely baffled by the hype… These were horrible men and a romanticism of them through song and dance just seems entirely misguided.”

Sean is not convinced that Hamilton is a hagiography. “I can’t imagine anyone watching all of this and thinking it paints a portrait of the Founding Fathers as anything other than childish, greedy, venal and self-aggrandizing.” Wesley agrees: “I don’t think Hamilton is trying to be a history lesson, so much as a lesson about how we think about history. It’s a compelling human story told in a revolutionary way.”

That “revolutionary way” is the musical’s central conceit: that of a cast-of-color playing the white founding fathers as they bumble towards independence. Journalist Jamelle Bouie, who regards the musical as “fun, exciting, innovative and, at points, genuinely moving,” wrestles with the “celebratory narrative in which the Framers are men to admire without reservation. Through its casting, it invites audiences of color to take ownership of that narrative, as if they should want to take ownership of a narrative that white-washes the history of the revolution under the guise of inclusion.”

It’s complicated for Matt, too: “It’s widely agreed upon that the show encapsulates the Obama era better than anything, how it coddles white liberals with a post-racial vision of history in a superficial sense, overlooking the insidious and oppressive systems that they benefit from (hearing the audience clap to ‘Immigrants, we get the job done’ unsettled me). Of course hopefully its legacy will be that it opened up more Broadway roles for POC. But I really think that the show doesn’t make Broadway more appealing and accessible to POC, it just makes hip hop more accessible to white people, a launching pad of course to listening to Watsky or something.

“No hate though to anyone that’s completely in love with this, it’s definitely worth seeing despite any hang ups.”

I wanna build something that’s gonna outlive me.

The story doesn’t end, just because the music does. Kai_Kenn has a suggestion: “I have been a part of discussions that dissect the culture that created Hamilton, as well as the culture that Hamilton created, and whether or not Hamilton appropriately addresses the modern issues [that] the cult following proposes it does.

“This is an ongoing discussion that I am trying to be an active listener in and, if you consider yourself to be a conscientious consumer of art, you should too.”

Noah is on board with that: “Reflecting on the past and focusing on the future are not two mutually exclusive actions. Both are a must, regardless of who you are or what you do. A five-star experience in a four-and-a-half-star film. I think that’s just fine.”

Related content

Want to see more of the key cast? Watch Daveed Diggs in ‘Blindspotting’; Renée Elise Goldsberry in ‘Waves’, Jonathan Groff repeat his role as Kristoff in ‘Frozen 2’, Lin-Manuel Miranda in ‘Mary Poppins Returns’, Leslie Odom Jr. in ‘Harriet’, Phillipa Soo in the forthcoming ‘Broken Hearts Gallery’, Christopher Jackson in the forthcoming ‘In The Heights’, Jasmine Cephas Jones in ‘The Photograph’, Okiereriete Onaodowan in ‘A Quiet Place II’ and Anthony Ramos in ‘Monsters and Men’ and ‘A Star is Born’.

Ways to support the Black Lives Matter movement

Official Black Lives Matter’s Resources

Teenagers that have ‘Hamilton’ stuff on their bedroom walls

Films where they mention ‘Hamilton’

[makeste]

Top 10 Favorite Deku Moments

so it’s Deku’s birthday today!! and since he is the best boy in the world and I love him, I am going to do one of those “top ten favorite...” lists for him just like I did for Kacchan back in April. these are going to be in chronological order, and the last two will be spoilers, so I’ll label them to make sure no one gets caught unawares.

happy birthday Deku. and this post turned out to be super long, like 4000 words, so I’m sorry, but you deserve it though.

1. “Most of the top heroes show signs of greatness even as children.”

okay so before I get started, let me just warn y’all upfront that a full four out of ten of these moments will involve Bakugou. I’ve said before that the relationship between Izuku and Katsuki is full stop my favorite part of the series, and this is absolutely still true, so yeah.

that being said, what makes this particular scene one of my favorites isn’t just that it’s an important moment between them (I’ll get into that relationship more two entries down); it also just so happens that this is the crucial moment which everything else in the series can ultimately be traced back to. this is the moment that inspires All Might to hand his power down to a quirkless middle-schooler, because despite being virtually powerless, Izuku proves that he has the heart and soul of a hero. he moves without thinking, without any kind of plan. it’s extraordinarily stupid, and incredibly selfless. it doesn’t matter to him that he has no way to actually fight this villain. it doesn’t matter that less than an hour ago, Bakugou was taunting him and burning his notebook. it doesn’t matter that he could easily be hurt or killed. the only thing that matters is that someone needs help. that’s it. it’s that simple. 

what makes Izuku a hero is that he is literally incapable of standing by and not taking action in moments like this. he acts on reflex to save others. his instinct in moments of danger and despair is to help, in any way he can. that’s the core of his character. and it shines through in this moment, and All Might sees it immediately, and it spurs him to take action, and from here on out everything changes.

2. “He didn’t utilize his full power. He just concentrated it into his fingertip...!”

fast-forward to the first day of superhero school, and our boy finds himself immediately in a tight spot again because his teacher is a stern and unsympathetic asshole whose way of showing consideration for his students is to mercy-expel anyone he deems not up to par. problem is, Izuku can’t actually use his new quirk without blowing himself up from the inside out, and he’s competing against what is probably the most gifted group of students U.A. has ever had. this is what is commonly referred to as “a pickle.” a jam. a quandary, if you will. if he breaks all his bones to pass the test, Aizawa will flunk him anyway. what’s a little green hero to do.

Izuku solves this problem in a typical Izuku fashion, meaning that his solution is somehow reckless, self-sacrificing, and frankly brilliant in its simplicity. rather than break all of his bones, Izuku sacrifices one (1) bone in order to launch a baseball into space, thus proving he can adapt his quirk to be useful without taking himself out and just adding to the problem. it’s worth noting that this is only his second-ever time using One for All, too. the fact that he has never had a quirk in his life up til this point and yet manages to control OFA to this degree on just his second go-around is damn impressive.

but what’s even more impressive is the way he simply outsmarts the test here. he calmly takes in the situation, thinks about the options at his disposal, and arrives at a logical solution that most people wouldn’t even have considered, because it involves intentionally breaking his own finger, which is an absurdly self-destructive thing to do just to pass a damn fitness test. but it works!! and it impresses the shit out of Aizawa too. and I just really love this moment because it’s such a perfect example of Deku both being smart and also just plain not giving a fuck and being the plussest ultra ever omfg.

3. “I can’t say much. But you should know this, at least...!”

so now we come to the second moment on this list involving Kacchan, and already there is a pattern emerging here: namely, that these moments of conflict and then reconciliation between the two of them inevitably end up being some of the most pivotal moments in the series. this particular scene comes on the heels of their battle in All Might’s first hero class, during which Deku soundly defeats Bakugou and makes it clear beyond all doubt that HE IS HERE!! and not going anywhere and Bakugou is just going to have to deal. Bakugou does a very poor job of dealing, however, and spends the rest of the afternoon super-quiet and caught up in his inferiority complex and convinced that Deku has been hiding this from him their whole childhood just to fuck with him.

most people, when put in a similar situation, would be all “fucking serves you right tbh” and just brush it right off. but Izuku doesn’t. or more accurately, I should say that he can’t. once again he acts on pure instinct when Kacchan’s welfare is involved, and this time it results in him blurting out his biggest secret -- a secret he was sworn to by All Might himself -- simply because he can’t stand to see Kacchan so miserable and he can’t bear the thought of him believing that Izuku really had been tricking him.

this is so extraordinary to me for a number of reasons. first and foremost, because Izuku’s altruism knows absolutely no bounds. he and Kacchan are on possibly the worst terms any two people could be on. he has absolutely no obligation to tell him this. but he does, anyway! just to make him feel better! second, there’s the fact that he doesn’t intend to do it, but it just comes blurting out. Izuku’s feelings toward Kacchan are complicated, as we know. and yet whatever the reason may be, Izuku demonstrates again and again that it’s a relationship he wants to hold onto, and he does his best to protect and preserve what little pieces of it he can. 

and lastly, this is now the second example of what will become a well-established theme in the series of Izuku going out of his way to save Katsuki. he does this again and again. he tries to help him after he falls from the log bridge. he rushes to save him from the sludge monster. he tells him about his quirk. he nearly fails their final exam because he goes back for him after All Might knocks him out. he runs into a forest full of villains to try and save him in spite of having two broken arms. he goes to Kamino with Kirishima and the others knowing full well it could get him expelled. and he fights him at night in Ground Beta even though they get into trouble for it later, because he sees how much pain Katsuki is in and he can’t turn his back on him. 

over and over again he puts himself in harm’s way for Katsuki’s sake, fully expecting no gratification to ever come from it, but doing it anyway. because he’s a hero, and because heroes don’t ask whether or not someone deserves to be saved. they just save them. this to me is the most incredible aspect of Izuku’s character. his heart is just that big. he is exceptionally, impossibly selfless and forgiving and good. and that’s just who he is. and Bakugou is lucky enough to be on the receiving end of that, whether he likes it or not, and ultimately over the course of these repeated encounters, he ends up changing for the better himself. and this moment in particular will, eventually, lead to the two of them actually reconciling for realsies when Bakugou finally figures it out and is subsequently inducted into the OFA Scooby Squad of Destiny. so yeah. this scene is so fucking important I can’t even begin. god I really went off on a tangent there. anyways.

4. “And Todoroki... isn’t you!”

so here’s another battle which highlights Izuku’s willingness to go to absurd and horrifying lengths to sacrifice himself for the sake of others. this entire fight is nothing short of ridiculous. Deku is ridiculous. let me break it down for you. Todoroki comes up to Deku before this fight and is all “hey I made a vow to never use my left side in battle because my dad only had me to use me as a tool to defeat All Might and he basically ruined my life.” in response, Deku says he’s aiming to become the strongest hero and so he’ll definitely win. he then proceeds to break his own fingers to blast Todoroki with repeated OFA attacks, all the while screaming at him that everyone is going all out and doing their best, and it’s arrogant and disrespectful of Todo to think he can beat their determination with only half of his power. 

Deku has absolutely zero regard for his own well-being in this fight -- by the end of the battle his bones are in splinters -- and his teachers observe that even if he does win, he won’t be in any kind of shape to move on to the next match. basically, he throws aside all of his own ambitions and even his own sense of self-preservation (if he even has one; it’s honestly debatable at this point you guys), all for the sole purpose of helping Todoroki realize that his power is his own and not his father’s, and to break free of the revenge-tinted tunnel vision keeping him from following his own dreams. the whole thing leaves Todoroki awestruck, and even though Deku eventually loses the fight, he gains a friend for life, and Todo fans everywhere are in his debt. 

real fucked up what he did to his fingers, though. but it just goes to show that nobody is perfect.

5. “I’m here to save you, Iida!”

I freaking love this moment you guys, and I can’t even explain why. except that who doesn’t love a good old-fashioned last-minute shounen save? Iida is seconds away from meeting his death at the hands of the world’s most annoyingly long-winded Ninjas Turtles cosplayer when Deku drops in out of nowhere and just socks the guy square in the jaw. it is satisfying as fuck. honestly that would have been awesome enough, but what makes it even better is that Horikoshi goes into some detail to explain that Deku didn’t just coincidentally happen to find Iida at the exact crucial moment, but actually used his Big Hero Brain to deduce Iida’s location through a series of shrewd observations and insightful hunches. and he turns out to be bang on the money, and that moment where Stain is reeling from the punch and Iida is looking up at him like, “Midoriya?!” and Deku sticks the landing in slow motion and says “Bingo!” in fucking English is just so fucking badass, guys. not to mention that this is also the debut of his Shoot Style on top of everything else. to sum up, this is one of the best entrances in the entire series, and just one of the coolest things Deku has ever done, IMO. you’re cool, Deku.

6. “You clocked me with all of your heart.”

yeah so you may at this point be sensing a pattern with some of these moments. yet again Deku does something stupid and risky because he sees Kacchan in trouble and all logic and reason immediately fly out the window. in this case it’s even more ridiculous, because Katsuki is not actually in any real danger at all, and by going back for him Izuku completely loses sight of what Katsuki got himself all beat up for in the first place. and yet he does it anyway! again! without thinking! like, he makes it maybe two steps away, and then he overhears Kacchan’s teary-eyed overdramatic and determined speech, and he immediately goes “oh fuck this I can’t do this” and turns back and grins maniacally at All Might before soundly punching the shit out of him. it is complete nonsense. there is no reason for it. Katsuki himself is furious when he finds out about it later. but does Deku care?? no, he does not care. and do I? no I do not because it’s the best and I love it.

7. “Let’s do our best, okay?”

this scene is feels city you guys. feels o’clock. zero dark feels. I almost put the “you’re next” scene here instead, but in the end this scene won out because (1) hug!! and (2) this is really the continuation of all of those emotions anyway, and it’s where the catharsis is at.

so let’s break this down since there’s a ton going on here. Deku is wrestling with the grief of knowing that All Might the hero, the Symbol of Peace, is gone forever. the pillar he and the rest of the world relied on to always be there isn’t there, any more. that sense of security is gone. and that’s a hard enough thing to come to grips with on its own, but put it together with the knowledge that he is the one who needs to step up now and fill those shoes, before he ever expected to, before he’s ready, and I can only begin to imagine how overwhelmed he must feel. and then on top of that!! All Might tells him he’s proud of him and relieved that he made it out of Kamino unharmed! and he tells him that he’s going to be there for him and that they’ll face the challenges up ahead together.

so for poor Deku, when you put that all together, we’ve got (a) that sense of loss, (b) fear and anxiety over the unknown difficulties to come, (c) various imposter syndrome feelings that he might not be good enough to handle it, (d) whatever misplaced guilt he may be dealing with for being one of the reasons All Might lost his power, however inevitable it might have been, and last but not least, (e) the deeply profound and humbling feeling of being loved and supported by the man he loves like a father, and knowing that no matter how scary things get, he won’t have to do this alone. so in spite of everything else, there’s that sense of relief and gratitude there too. he can do this. it will be okay. his dad is there.

all of that emotion, packed in one tearful hug. no wonder the kid is crying his eyes out. I would be too. in fact I did, and have no shame in doing so, and I would do it again. good job Horikoshi.

8. “This fight may very well have been a meaningless one... but...”

motherfucker did I not warn you there would be four different BakuDeku moments in this?? and that’s with me reining myself in too to be quite frank. that’s just how it is. it’s my list!! 

anyway, so I’m not sure whether or not an entire fight counts as a “moment”, but I’m putting it out there anyway because I’m incapable of narrowing this down any more than that. I could have an entire separate list of Top Ten Deku VS Kacchan Part 2 Moments and I’m sure I would still wind up leaving something out. I love all of it. the whole damn thing. it’s such a huge turning point for them both. they finally sort everything out. truth bombs being hurled left and right. it’s so good. agh.

but here are some of Deku’s highlights: (1) immediately shifting from trying to talk Kacchan down to fighting him outright with no hesitation once he realizes what the fight is actually about, (2) despite knowing how Kacchan feels, allowing himself to be just a bit selfish for once and get caught up in his own rival feels and trying to prove his worth as All Might’s successor, (3) complimenting Kacchan in the middle of the fight because of course he does, (4) openly admitting how much he admired Kacchan growing up and that he thought he was amazing, (5) getting so worked up that he loses control for a moment and jumps to 8% in one of the most badass moments of the whole series, (6) acknowledging to himself that even though he really shouldn’t, he kinda digs Kacchan’s rougher “I’LL KILL YOU, ASSHOLE” side anyway and emulates it without thinking when he forgets himself and that Kacchan is his image of victory, and lastly, (7) being a sneaky bastard and throwing a punch in with his shoot style knowing full well it will catch Kacchan off guard, which it fucking does.

Deku goes hog wild in this fight. he has a grand old time and even manages to achieve a new power-up, because he and Kacchan always do manage to bring out the best in each other, when they’re not bringing out the worst. you can’t watch this fight and fail to notice how insanely fired up Deku is compared to his usual fights. he is into it. he is ready and willing to throw down. he is here to kick ass and take names!! this is the impact Kacchan has on him. thirty fucking seconds into his therapy fight and Deku's maximum power output has increased by a whopping 60%. holy shit. mad lads.

it’s something not lost on All Might, who wraps things up by patiently explaining to the two of them how much they can learn from each other. and the whole thing concludes with the two of them becoming, as All Might puts it, “proper rivals.” that’s right, their rivalry is now officially approved and sanctioned by the motherfucking Symbol of Peace. well done, boys. these two are going to be absolutely terrifying when they grow up.

***SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA PAST THIS POINT***

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9. “...But you were there.”

okay so I have this indecisive kind of thing going on with whether or not I think All Might is actually going to die, and whether or not I want to see it happen. some weeks, like this particular week, I am on the side of BITCH DON’T YOU DARE because everything is goddamn sad enough as it is, Horikoshi, and I don’t need any more reasons to lie awake at night crying over fictional characters! but then there are other days when I think about how devastatingly, breathtakingly heartbreaking it would be, and for some reason I think, shit, yeah, he’s gotta do it. go ahead and hurt us good. make us feel things. leave no survivors. just fucking wreck our shit, go on ahead.

but then I read this scene again and think, there’s something so incredibly powerful about the fact that All Might started out the series believing he was going to die and being resigned to that fate and making preparations for it, only to be completely blindsided by the love he has for this boy and what that ends up doing to him. his love for Izuku gives him the strength to fight against fate. it gives him the resolve to look the grim reaper in the eye and say “to hell with this, I’m going to live.” it’s his reason to keep going. it’s his purpose. and god but that’s some powerful shit. characters saying “fuck you” to destiny? I am weak as hell for that, hell yes give me more. give me all of that.

and then Deku in this scene. pleading with All Might to keep living. “you have to live to see that moment, when I can tell the world, ‘I am here!’” promising him that no matter what happens, when the time comes, they’ll bend fate together. “without fail.” and just, holy fuck. when he says it, you really believe they can do it. because if anyone can figure out a way to conquer the inevitable, it’s this kid.

10. “Senpai... if I said that I would give you my quirk, would you...?”

last but not least, today just happens to be Mirio’s birthday as well, so it only seems fitting to end with this moment, which in the span of a single page neatly sums up why both of these kids are worthy beyond a doubt of being the next Symbol of Peace. Deku selflessly tries to offer Mirio his quirk, and Mirio instantly rejects him. doesn’t even know what’s going on, really, but just rejects the offer out of hand. “no thanks. then you would be the one subjected to this hardship.” and we can’t very well fucking have that, now can we. nope. not on Mirio’s watch. never mind that he just lost his quirk and his mentor within the span of the past twenty four hours. he wastes no time in coming to Deku’s aid in spite of that, assuring him that he did great and that everything will be just fine. so just smile already!!

but the fact that Deku was even willing to make the offer just once again goes to show how astonishingly good he is. he knows better than anyone what it’s like to be quirkless and powerless. he knows exactly what Mirio is going through. what’s more, Mirio is absolutely right that Deku did fucking amazing and totally saved the day and without him they would have all been screwed! but all Deku can see in this moment is how deserving Mirio is, and so he decides that in order to help him, he’s prepared to make what for him is the ultimate sacrifice. the power that All Might gave him. his dream of becoming the greatest hero. everything he’s worked for up to this point. he’s prepared to throw all of that away if Mirio just says the word. there truly isn’t a selfish bone in this kid’s body.

but Mirio says no. because Mirio is also selfless. in conclusion we had just better hope the two of them never wind up reaching a door together at the same time, because the ensuing battle of who holds it open for whom could singlehandedly bring this series to a dead halt. the ultimate stalemate. they are too good and we don’t deserve them.

so anyways, that’s it! happy birthday kid. and here’s one more for the road.

11. “Dear Midoriya...”

a story in three acts. character development. growth. god bless.

[brightbeautifulthings]

Doctor Sleep by Stephen King

"You don't have to live this way if you don't want to. You can, of course ... but you don't have to."

Year Read: 2019, 2020

Rating: 5/5

About: There are spoilers ahead for The Shining. It's decades after the Overlook Hotel burned to the ground, and Danny Torrance is a middle-aged recovering alcoholic. He works as an orderly in a hospice, where the patients have nicknamed him Doctor Sleep for his uncanny ability to comfort the dying. The shining has faded some with age, but before long, his psychic radar picks up another kindred spirit, a young girl named Abra with a stronger shine than Dan has ever seen. But Dan isn't the only one who's noticed her power. A cult called The True Knot travels the country in RVs, living on the "steam" that children with the shining produce when they're tortured to death. The True Knot wants Abra, and they'll do whatever they have to to get to her. Trigger warnings: death, child death, torture, some gore/body horror, abduction, alcoholism, addiction, drug use, child abuse/abusive households, severe illness, cancer, injury, broken bones, hospitals, needles, bullying.

Thoughts: I didn't hurry to pick this up until it was slated to be made into a film (all hail Mike Flanagan) for a couple of reasons. The Shining isn't one of my favorite King novels, and I didn't want to see little Danny succumbing to the same demons as Jack Torrance. I'm also not much for cults in horror because they're so often ridiculous; they don't have to follow any logic. So let's begin this review by saying that I was wrong and more wrong about Doctor Sleep. This is one of the best novels I've read this year, and it easily jumped near the top of my favorite King novels of all time (far eclipsing The Shining, truth be told, although I liked it more on a second read). I was hooked in twenty pages. By fifty, I wanted to quit the rest of my life so I could read. After that, I stopped counting pages, and that takes some doing in a novel that's 500+. It's riveting from beginning to end.

There are so many things that King does well as a storyteller. Of course, he's a wonderful horror writer with an unparalleled imagination for the macabre, but Doctor Sleep works best because of its characters. If you're not into character novels (or you happen to not like Danny and Abra, which is mind blowing but, I suppose, possible), I can see Doctor Sleep not working so well for you. I feared that Danny had turned into Jack, both struggling alcoholics bent on self-destruction, but Danny is not his father. He also has the community of support that Jack never had in finding AA. They are fighting the same demons, but the way they're fighting them is entirely different. As someone who struggled a lot with Jack as a main character, it also helps that Danny is just more likable overall. He's humble; he accepts responsibility; he tries to make amends. He also fights like hell to protect a child he barely knows, which makes him at least as much like Dick Hallorann as Jack Torrance.

Abra is a bright contrast to so much darkness. I never feel like King talks down his child characters, and she's just as complex as any of the adult characters, if not more. She's clever, funny, brave, and with all the over-confidence of a kid with extraordinary powers. Her history is fascinating from the beginning, and I like the way we get to know her and Danny, both separately and together, over the course of about ten years. The story is nicely streamlined, hitting the most important events and moving on, and I never felt bogged down in the details the way I sometimes do in King novels. The mythology of the shining is expanded upon so much in this book. It's delightful to see the different ways it manifests for Abra, tempered by Danny's adult experiences with it. I love psychic stories done well, and this is as much a psychic story as it is a cult story.

The horror in this novel is of a very different kind than in The Shining. Readers expecting another psychological haunted house story will be disappointed because Doctor Sleep is entirely its own thing. The True Knot is a cult of traveling campers and trailers, the kind we've seen on every American highway and in every campground, the kind no one ever looks at twice. The terror of them is very simple: they torture and murder children, specifically children with the shining, so that they can live forever. It's horrifying in concept as well as on page, but it lacks the creeping dread of The Shining--and doesn't need it. There are all kinds of ways to tell a horror story. Rose the Hat is one of my favorite villains of all time, a cold-blooded killer whose pride is her fatal flaw. They're a formidable opponent, but so is Abra, and I had the sense all through the novel that they were about equally matched. The True Knot is a threat that can be faced, with the right weapons.

Plot-wise, there was never a dull moment for me. Even the backstory of Abra and Danny is peppered with significant events for both of them, along with more of the shining than, ironically, we ever got to see in The Shining. There are smaller battles that effectively build tension to a final showdown, which is so well-plotted I was left breathless. It's not entirely necessary to read The Shining to understand Doctor Sleep. King does a good job recapping everything without slowing down the current story, and most everyone has seen the Kubrick adaptation (which has a different ending from the book). However, I recommend reading both, if only to see all the clever ways that the books mirror one another, the way Jack and Danny face down similar things in different ways, and the way that everything--everything--circles back around. It's as though this novel had been drifting in the back of King's mind for thirty years, and when it finally came out, it came out flawlessly.

[abutterflyscribbles]

@magic-and-moonlit-wings @tough-girl9 a prologue of sorts

“Slimy little weasel!”

“What was that, son?”

Bog fumbled with the diary he had been engrossed in. He had not noticed his mother returning from lunch. Restraining himself from shoving the book hastily out of sight, Bog placed the diary back on its shelf and removed the gloves he had been wearing to handle it.

“Nothing, mom!” Bog called back.

He flipped open a random catalog to make it look like he had been working. Just in time, too. His mother stuck her head around the corner, all frizzy red hair and cheerful grin. “Been back here all day? You should come out front and help the customers I brought with me. I met them at the cafe. Such lovely young ladies--”

Bog slammed a stack of cheap paperbacks on the counter, adding onto the wall of books he had been building around himself all days. “You know better than I do where we keep the cheap, sleazy romance novels.”

“Romance never hurt anybody, there's no reason to act like it bit you!”

She flounced off to the front of the shop.

Bog shuffled the stacks of books around a little, trying to get himself to start a new task. He didn't want to. He wanted to take the diary back out and read what happened next. The diary's author, an unknown woman from a hundred or so years ago, had just recorded the incident of her fiancé's betrayal. Bog had never wanted to sock anyone so much before.

He hadn't meant to do more than skim a few pages of the diary to try and get a grasp of its age, condition, and possible value. Opening it to a random page he found an ashamed little entry about the writer leaning to fence on the sly. That had intrigued him enough to start reading from the beginning and work his way through the typical girly drivel so common in these sort of things.

The diary had been one in a series, it seemed, and none of the other volumes had been collected with this one. It had been purchased in a grab bag sort of deal where Bog had gotten a crate of random old books at a discount. There had been nothing else of interest or value in the crate and most of it had been bought up by art students or people looking to decorate their homes with a touch of pretension.

Giving up on working, Bog rearranged the book stacks to screen himself from view and settled back into his chair with the diary carefully open on the table in front of him. The writing after the betrayal of the author's fiancé grew darker and was written in bolder strokes than before. The brief mention of her heartache was not referred to again and the author plunged into a series of wild escapades that resulted in impressive scandals. Challenging her ex to a duel, for example. Or helping her sister elope with an unsuitable young man.

Each incident was sketched in a brief but vivid style that revealed very little personal emotion. Somehow Bog sensed her heartache even through the reckless, carefree dash of her pen. Maybe it was because he knew how it was to throw yourself into other things to avoid painful feelings. Maybe he was just projecting. Whatever the case, Bog wished he could have met this mystery writer. Or at least read the diaries that came after this one. This one ended with her notes on preparation to leave her family home and appeal to an aunt to help her take a house in town. The aunt sounded like quite the character. Bog wished he could hear more about her.

Closing the diary and stretching, Bog sighed. A fragment of someone's life, chipped away from the rest, a crystallized moment. He could look at the broken edges of it and imagine what the rest looked like, but he'd never really know. He admired the fragment of life he did know. She'd been shy and ashamed of who she was and when it came to a breaking point she shed all her doubts and fears and emerged bold, fearless, and truly herself. Admirable. Enviable. Bog could never imagine doing the same.

He'd been unlucky in love himself but unlike the author the blame had fallen entirely on him. He has assumed too much, pushed too much, imagined what wasn't there. He had imagined that a face and personality like his were at all lovable. He'd been painfully silly. While the author of the diary had advanced, Bog had retreated. Back into himself, into sullen in the back of the bookshop. Books were complete creatures. They didn't change on you. You couldn't misunderstand them like people.

Bog reread the last few sentences of the diary. Off on an adventure. Forever just setting off on an adventure. Not having the rest of the diaries in a way made it possible for her to forever been on her adventures, proud and free. Heartbreak and death, they couldn't touch her. Yes, truly an enviable thing.

Over the weeks Bog found himself looking at the diary again and again in his spare moments and even in moments he couldn't spare. Trying to picture the woman who fought for freedom in a world made to cage her.

'You asleep back there?” his mother called from the front of the shop.

“No.” Bog grunted from behind his books.

“Then get out here and help this customer, I'm swamped!”

Bog put the diary away and gritted his teeth. Customer service was his least favorite thing in the world. Especially when the customer was a woman and his mother was making encouraging faces in the background. Today was no different. A woman, probably around Bog's own age, but carrying it better, was loitering impatiently by the counter. She had sharp features and fine lines of cynicisms etched lightly around her mouth and eyes.

“Yes?” Bog asked. He was ready to see her disgust at the sight of him.

“Finally!” the woman said, “I tried calling you people all week! Don't you answer the phone?”

“Apparently not.” Bog could have explained their number had changed at their website hadn't been updated yet but he doubted that would have appeased her.

“Whatever,” she pulled a handful of papers out of the pocket of her leather jacket, “I'm looking for a book--”

“No, really?”

“Drop dead. A particular book. An old diary.”

Bog's heart skipped a beat. She couldn't have meant his. “Yeah, we get some coming through here, but we don't usually hang on to them long. Not much interest.”

“I'm the not much interest. Here's pictures of one of the companion diaries. It should be bound the same if the original cover is intact.”

Bog's heart sank. The picture looked like his diary. The photos of handwriting samples were a perfect match too. He made a split second decision and slapped the photos back on the counter. “Never seen it.”

“And you've read every book in this place?” the woman said, unconvinced.

“Close enough to make no difference.” he said firmly.

He wasn't giving up that diary. That little piece of a person he admired and felt almost like a friend to him. He'd bought it, legal and upfront. He'd no obligation to even admit he owned it.

“C'mon, you aren't even going to point me to your reject bin of worthless old books? All the other places at least had the courtesy to do that.”

“I make no claims to courtesy.”

The woman blew a few strands of reddish-brown hair out of her face. “Look, you oversized grump--”

“You look, tough girl with a Napoleon complex--”

“Napoleon wasn't even short!”

“You don't deny that you are?”

“Like you can even tell! You must bang your head every time you forget to duck going through a door. Look. This diary belongs in my family and I've been trying to track it down. Some great-great-great aunt or something. I've gotten most of the others but--”

“Others?”

“Yeah, all the early volumes and most of the later ones after she left home--”

“The later ones? Really?”

“Yeah—wait,” She gave him a measuring glare, “you do have one, don't you?”

Bog shrugged.

The woman, to Bog's astonishment, blushed. “You . . . you didn't read it, did you?”

Bog shrugged again.

The woman looked as if death would be a blessing. Bog was totally confused. She ran her hand through her short hair and cleared her throat, “Uh, which one—what point of her life—oh, fork it over!”

“Fork what over?” Bog asked with a smirk.

“You've got it, I want it! It belongs to me!”

“Ownership is nine tenths of the law, tough girl. If I have it, that is.”

“I'll break your thumbs. I'll pay you. A lot. Whatever you want.”

“Not interested.”

“Why? What good is a moldy old diary full of sentimental trash?”

“I like her.”

“Beg pardon?”

Now Bog found himself blushing. “I mean, the one who wrote it. She's—she was interesting. I like her. Her adventures. I like her adventures. She was obviously someone pretty unique and special and I like having that little glimpse into her life . . .”

The woman was red as a beet. From anger, Bog assumed. “You do have it! And please, she was a silly little idiot. Or—or so family legend has it.”

“She was extraordinary.” Bog insisted.

“Extraordinarily silly!”

“You've got the later volumes, right? Have you even read them? She was brave and steadfast and fought like mad for what she thought was right in a time in history where she was expected to sit down and shut up!”

“I hate you!”

“I'm not so foud of you either, tough girl!”

“Just give me the book! I'm putting together a family history thing and I want it for an exhibit. Yeah. An exhibit.”

“Can I make a copy?”

“No!”

“No deal.”

“What will it take, you cockroach?”

“Let me read the later diaries.”

“What? No way! No chance!”

“No deal.”

“Anything else!”

“Not interested.”

“You—I'll—I'll be back!”

The woman crammed her papers back in her pocket and stormed out of the shop.

Bog, avoiding the eyes of the other customers, stalked back to his desk, oddly flustered. He was angry at himself. He'd run smack into the descendant of the woman in the diary and he hadn't even gotten any contact information about her or the exhibit. Idiot. Some manners might have gone a long way, but no, he had to snap and growl. Idiot.

Bog looked at the diary. “I bet you'd dislike me as much as your grand-niece does, if you two are anything alike.”

[starwarsnonsense]

Top 10 Films of 2018

This is rather delayed (mainly on account of an extended bout of laziness on my part), but I was still determined to get it out there! While I don’t think 2018 quite reached the heights of 2017 (nothing matched The Last Jedi or Blade Runner 2049, for example), there was still a lot of great cinema. 

As always, keeping this list at 10 meant I had to omit some great titles. Just so you get an idea of what I had to leave out, here are some honourable mentions: Eighth Grade, Lady Bird, Revenge, Phantom Thread, Thoroughbreds, Lean on Pete and Game Night.

1. Roma, dir. Alfonso Cuarón

Roma is a deeply special film, and I’m very fortunate in having got to see it in the best possible circumstances - projected on a huge cinema screen, with its gorgeous, silvery cinematography a marvel to witness. This film takes the kind of life that would usually be forgotten and turns it into an epic, interweaving the story of a loving, resilient housemaid with the seismic political events unfolding in Mexico in the early 1970s. The shots are highly symmetrical and geometric, with characters passing in and out of pre-established frames. But this is clearly intentional, and - to me at least - the story felt no less personal for it. There are several all-time great scenes in this film, and while I don’t want to spoil any of them with extended descriptions, I will say that there’s a sequence in a hospital that balances the mundane and the monumental in an extraordinary and heartbreaking way. This is breathtaking, masterful filming, and I felt it did justice to Cleo’s life without ever attempting to claim her experience. The film is quiet and the dialogue is almost perfunctory, relying heavily on its visuals - it’s cinema at its purest.

2. Annihilation, dir. Alex Garland

True story: I was so desperate to see Annihilation in a cinema that I flew to New York for it. Of course Annihilation wasn’t my sole reason for travelling to New York, but you can be damn sure I made a point of tracking down an Alamo Drafthouse that was showing it. And boy was it worth it. This movie does a magnificent job of fulfilling the potential of sci-fi, taking otherworldly concepts and ideas and using them to interrogate some of the most profound and frightening truths of what it means to be human. This movie has a quietly hypnotic quality to it, and Natalie Portman continues to prove that she is one of the finest modern actors - she says so much with her face and her movements that lines are hardly necessary. I will continue to follow Alex Garland’s career with great interest...

3. Beast, dir. Michael Pearce

Beast was probably my biggest surprise in film in 2018 - I went in expecting nothing, and was bowled over by it to the point that I rushed out to see it again at the first opportunity. This film follows lonely outsider Moll and her ardent love for the mysterious Pascal. There is a heightened, almost supernatural, quality to their romance, and the actors - Jessie Buckley and Johnny Flynn - have electric chemistry. This film delights in playing with the viewer’s fears and suspicions, constantly adjusting them as the characters evolve over the course of the movie. It’s a great fusion of genres - mystery and romance - that also functions as a superb character piece, and it is entirely worth your time.

4. Bad Times at the El Royale, dir. Drew Goddard

This film is bonkers in an amazing way. A bunch of seemingly random strangers gather at a hotel that’s far from its glory days, and it isn’t long before all hell breaks lose. The ensemble here is terrific, with all the cast members playing off each other in a succession of utterly delightful ways. Every character conceals a secret history and motive, with their layers gradually being peeled back as the movie plays out. Special mention must go to Cynthia Erivo, who is simply stupendous as a session singer who I wound up considering the film’s real hero - she’s marvellously charismatic and complex, and her voice is a complete wonder. This film is a messy tangle of mysteries, and I had a wonderful time unravelling them.

5. First Reformed, dir. Paul Schrader

I have a weird soft spot for ‘crisis of faith’ movies (think Silence), and this is a very fine entry into that niche. Ethan Hawke is superb here as a priest attending to an old church that has effectively been reduced to a chintzy tourist attraction, and I found the depiction of how he struggles with his faith, overwhelmed by disillusionment and the immense crises facing the earth, fascinating and beautifully written. Schrader wrote and directed this film, and it is one of his greatest achievements - the dialogue probes deep, never feeling trite or obvious. I also appreciated how the spiritual was so often conflated with the personal, with a thin line drawn being drawn between the divine and the carnal (that end scene is a woozy thing to experience). It’s a beautifully judged film, made all the more fascinating for its ambiguity. 

6. Won’t You Be My Neighbor?, dir. Morgan Neville

The greatest testament to the power of this wonderful, good-hearted documentary is probably that I went into it knowing practically nothing about Mr Rodgers (he just wasn’t a thing here in the UK) and left it thinking he’s the hero the world needs right now. I’ve seen so many documentaries illuminating the ugliest parts of humanity that I didn’t realise how much I needed one spotlighting the best bits. But this documentary isn’t pure sentiment, though there’s a lot of that - I found a lot to admire in Mr Rodgers approach to child psychology and education, particularly his conviction that every child can benefit from a warm, steady presence, even of the source of the reassurance happens to be trapped in a TV monitor. I can only hope this inspires a fresh wave of documentaries on similarly worthy subjects.

7. The Wife, dir. Björn Runge

Glenn Close is coming for that Best Actress Oscar and no one can convince me otherwise. With The Wife, the whole movie transparently rests on the shoulders of one woman - Close’s performance is almost sphinx-like, being enigmatic and low-key to the point that her emotions are almost invisible. But their failure to manifest doesn’t mean they don’t exist, and that is perhaps the point of the whole movie. Joan Castleman might seem like the ideal wife of a great author, but she is revealed to be far more than that - a singular individual with dreams, passions, ambitions and regrets. Glenn Close makes the gradual reveal of each facet magnetic, to the point that the slightest twinges of her facial muscles become potent symbols.

8. Blindspotting, dir.  Carlos López Estrada

This is an urgent, gripping movie that tackles some of the biggest issues there are. Collin and Miles are friends, but this film sees their friendship challenged, the dynamics underlying it interrogated. I’ve seen movies described as “empathy machines” before, and Blindspotting is a great example of that. It sucks you into the day-to-day experience of living Collin’s life, whether he’s getting a window into the hang-ups of the people whose belongings he is moving (he drives a moving truck) or just chilling out with his friends. Alongside this, it also portrays how terrifying it is to live as a black man in America, how vanishingly little value appears to be placed on your life by those in authority. There’s a rap scene at the film’s climax that consolidates all of Collin’s rage and hurt, and it truly packs a punch.

9. American Animals, dir. Bart Layton

This film portrays a very different side to young American manhood from Blindspotting. Instead of living from day to day, the protagonists of this film start out with pretty much everything they could need - stability, support and good prospects. They choose to unsettle their existence by staging an outrageous heist, clearly dreaming of becoming legends and injecting excitement into their comfortable lives. American Animals does a fantastic job of pulling their plan apart, and since it was based on a true story director Bart Layton does something quite ingenious - he combines real interviews with re-enactments, the filmed scenes being switched out and adjusted according to the conflicting testimonies. In this way, American Animals becomes much more then a depiction of entitled young men seeking to mythologise themselves - it also functions as an interrogation of truth, and the myriad deceptive qualities of cinema.

10. Mission Impossible: Fallout, dir. Christopher McQuarrie

I have no idea how this franchise keeps on stepping up its game, but it does. It reminds me of how the James Bond films ended up taking Bond to space. I can see MI doing that at this point, except we all know that Tom Cruise would actually fly into space for it. With that prelude out of the way, I just need to stress what a fantastic action movie this is. The set-pieces here are marvellously staged, and their execution made them absolutely gripping - I was anxious over every punch, flinching at every cracked bone. McQuarrie is a true master of tension and suspense, and the movie was simply a magnificent ride. I was lucky enough to see this in IMAX with @bastila-bae, and the mere thought of people watching this on smartphones fills me with the rare kind of sorrow known only to shameless film snobs.

Look out for highlights from 2019 - coming up in a few months!