#also like. i can count the number of girls in my cohort on one hand.

[theresa-of-liechtenstein]

‘if your guy friends have girlfriends you need to distance yourself from them, be a girl’s girl first’ unpopular opinion maybe but it’s kind of sad that we make invisible rules to restrict us from the friendships that can organically arise out of situations. and i have no control over the jealousy of another person either. just set your boundaries clearly and concisely and proactively and move on

[the-omni-princess]

Fleece Navidad

Author: @the-omni-princess​

Summary: Your residential frequent flyer has a good reason for wanting to stop by to see you – again.

Prompt: Doctor AU

Word Count: 1.2K

Pairing: Doctor!Latina!Reader x Biker!Bucky

Warnings: Mentions of ER emergencies (including: Stomach related sicknesses, stabbings, broken bones, small cuts, and injuries), cursing

A/N:

This was for @mypassionsarenysins​​ ‘s 1k challenge! Congrats!!! Prompt was Doctor AU #mypassionsarenysins1k

Merry Christmas, Happy First Night of Hanukah, and Happy Holidays!!!

I also have a Stucky fic posting on Christmas (I hope), and another fic posting before the years ended! Hopefully will have started that Blood Bound chapter as well! Have a great holiday guys! <3

-

[Masterlist]

It was yet another long night with little to no sleep. At the very least, the ER seemed to be mostly empty. A few kids that ate stuff they weren’t supposed to, an accidental hand stabbing in Room 3, and a broken ankle in Room 5. For an ER in Brooklyn at night, it could have been much worse, but it seemed with the oncoming snowstorm, fewer people seemed to be out. Fewer people, fewer emergencies, and a slow night.

It was almost midnight Christmas night, and you sipped on your gingerbread coffee, counting down the minutes until your shift was over and you could spend the next few days on break from work. The nurses on duty had most of the patients covered, while you, the main doctor on duty for another hour, just watched over the few people still here. For once, it was peaceful. That was until your residential frequent flyer strolled in.

James “Bucky” Barnes, the president of the Avengers Motorcycle Club, sauntered in, clutching his arm. His number two and three, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson, by his side, both looking equally bored. “Mr. Barnes,” you sighed softly, letting one of the nurses handle the sick child with food poisoning in Room 2. “To what do I owe the absolute pleasure?” sarcasm dripped like venom in your voice. Overall, the Avengers were a band of Do-gooders, intimidating bikers that protected the people who needed it around town; but lately, their president seemed to have a permanent bed in your ER.

“Aw, doll, it’s good to see you too,” Bucky teased back, grinning as he followed you to Room 4, sitting on the bed. “See it’s not too bad today, just some bruises and cuts, making sure I didn’t break anything is all.” He held out his arm, and sure enough, his wrist was bruised up, swollen, with a bit of blood.

You glanced towards his cohorts, “Do you just let him run into walls like a Roomba?” you looked more annoyed than anything. Sure, this biker was cute – okay fine, hot as fuck – but he tended to just take up space in your ER. Granted, he only seemed to show up when you were on duty and when the ER was slow, but still.

“Aw, doll, you’re no fun. It’s Christmas and you're stuck here,” he pouted as you began to clean and bandage his wrist, quickly figuring out it wasn’t broken and didn’t need stitches. Both of his friends looked at him with a pointed expression when you turned around.

“I’m here because I want to, Barnes. It’s my job.” You finished bandaging him before sitting beside him. “Rogers, Wilson, out. You two can wait in the waiting room.” Both men rushed out the curtain, moving down the hallway quickly. You turned on the biker, your face scrunched up, “How many times do I have to tell you, Bucky? Stay out of my ER! Just because we went on a few dates and have one tomorrow doesn’t mean you can take up space when others might need it.”

Bucky had the decency to look away bashfully, “I didn’t want you to be alone on Christmas, baby doll,” he murmured softly, making you melt.

“Babe, I celebrated Christmas yesterday. Had my sisters over, that’s why I didn’t go out to lunch with you. I’m Latina, I’ve always celebrated Christmas the night before.” You said gently, smiling faintly as he went red.

“Oh-Oh! Fuck, I’m sorry, Sweetheart, I wasn’t thinking-“

“You’re right, you weren’t, but I forgive you,” you teased, kissing his cheek before checking your watch. “I’m off in twenty minutes, think you can have enough patience to wait for me in the waiting room with the boys?”

He nodded quickly, grinning, “Poor guys think I’m a love-sick puppy, following you around.”

“That’s because you are, babe,” you teased, smiling up at him. “You get out of here and tell them either about us or some excuse, I’ll be there when I clock out.”

He stood back up, smiling as he pulled you into his arms. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you kissed his nose, “Now go.”

He reluctantly walked off towards your waiting room while you checked on the last few patients of yours. You quickly said goodbye a few minutes later to your nurses and the doctor rotating onto duty while you clocked out.

When you made your way to the waiting room, Bucky, Steve, and Sam stood there, the latter two with shit-eating grins on their faces. “Should I ask whats got you two so excited?” You teased, unable to stop the smile from your face as Bucky led you out the door and into the chilly weather. No snow this Christmas but still decently cold, which had you shivering in your scrubs. The current fleece sweater you were wearing with the words ‘Fleece Navidad’ and a little sheep wasn’t giving you much warmth as the temperature dropped.

Bucky placed his leather jacket around your shoulders, using the little shuffle you did into the warmth of the leather – the scent of smoky cologne filling your senses – to pull you into his embrace. “I might have told them about us,” he said in a soft voice, tilting your chin up gently.

“Oh, did you now?” You grinned, “Did you also mention that you’re a secret teddy bear that didn’t want his girlfriend to feel lonely on Christmas, so you slammed your hand into a wall?”

Sam snickered behind you, and Bucky shot him a dirty look before softening as he looked back down towards you. “I might have skipped that part. Let me give you a ride home, sweetheart. My ma would kill me if she found out I let you take the subway home this late at night in this weather.” He gently pushed a stray baby hair out of your face, your usual work hairdo messy from the long and hectic shift.

“Only if you can promise me hot cocoa and dancing to Christmas Frank Sinatra record.”

“Deal,” he pulled you closer, making a shooing motion towards his friends as he finally closed the distance and kissed you softly. Slow movements underneath the spell of each other, gentle caresses, not caring about the intruders to your little moment.

“Not to make this even cuter, but you guys are even under the mistletoe!” Steve teased, Sam and him chuckling as the leaned on the wall near their bikes.

You looked up, and sure enough, one of your coworkers had taped a small bundle of mistletoe above your heads. Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle, tugging you impossibly closer. “Perfect,” he kissed your nose, absentmindedly noticing it was growing cold, making you melt with his charming and goofy smile. “Merry Christmas, baby girl.”

“Merry Christmas, Bucky.” Surrounded by the lights of a distance ambulance leaving the lot and the bright white lights of the inside of the ER, you couldn’t help but compare it to the holiday lights strung around the rest of the city, bathing you and Bucky with holiday warmth as Carol of the Bells begun to play in some café down the street. This right here, with the man you were slowly but quickly falling in love with, was the most perfect end to your holiday than you could have dreamt of.

---

Tags:

Permanent Tags:

@minetticatinwonderland​  / @lumar014​ / @maniacproffesor​ / @gollyderek​ / @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ / @avengerstones​ / @momc95​ / @loving-life-my-way​ / @agentpeggybarnes​ / @marvelmaree​ / @thefridgeismybestie​ / miraclesoflove  / hello-fanfiction-goodbye-grades  / deathofmissjackson

Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings​  / @darkness-doughter​ / @novaddictx​​ / @thedancingnerdmermaid​ / @mood-pancakes​ / @gracethegeek9902​ / @ravennightingaleandavatempus​ / @sunkissedbarnes​​ / @annavega333​ / @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​

For a tag, just reply/comment, if I don’t see it, just message me. Tell me what you think! Literally, any comment makes me happy! Like, comment, reblog, interact <3

[soranihimawari]

running at 6a.m.

word count: 3.5k

random, but can you believe i haven’t written for hanamaki yet, @oikawa-obvs​? tagging: @m0nstergeneration20xx​ [youse all gotta thank them for this one, fr fr]

warnings: new neighbor x makki// seijoh 3rd years x baffoonery// slightly suggestive scenes [pg 13 recommended] // rated W for woo! 

<< |masterlist| >>

Of all the times in your high school career, you did not think you’d find yourself waking up before the sun when your neighbor called you at 5:45a.m. one weekend. Your neighbor, time and time again, has been trying your patience recently seeing that his sports club was asking for extra volunteers around this time of year for the conditioning exercises. Granted, your school was considered a powerhouse all because of one high caliber setter, and now you found yourself fumbling around your bed trying to ignore the chiming ringtone of your phone. Your eyes squint to readjust for the brightness of your Do Not Disturb setting to see the fourth missed call from him. You slide your finger in an attempt to unlock your phone the second time and redial the number.

“Morning ichigo no kori,” you state rather flatly. You knew the Hanamakis ever since you moved to this neighborhood to be closer to your high school after you had convinced your uncle and aunt to let them use their spare bedroom in the loft attachment of their town house. Your father was not shocked by this development in the slightest since he did lay out some ground rules between all parties involved. You did come from a single parent household, but given the fact the company your father worked for had a position opening up overseas in the Hong Kong office, you spoke at length about how you didn’t want to move right away due to your third year at aoba josai was about to begin again.Thus here you were, three months later, laying down in a comfortable full bed hoping neither of your guardians stirred from their slumber.

“Strawberry ice?” hanamaki was amused by this development. 

He remembered the day you moved because the moving truck was pretty hard to miss; his friends from the volleyball club were walking back from the convenience store with snacks only stopping briefly to ask if he knew about the family that lived there:

“You mean Kurarun-san?” hanamaki asked. He shrugged his shoulder explaining shortly thereafter he didn’t know them very well, but maybe his mom did. She was always seen talking about her day (the daily gossip) with the wife of the homeowner. “I don’t think they had kids.”

“You might be wrong about that,” his friend in arms, mattsukawa, mentions as his eyes wondered to where you were standing. Your arms folded over your chest observing the movers lower the ramp to the pavement. Now considering you were raised by your father, it didn’t surprise your uncle and aunt to say the very least, you grew up learning how to fix dirtbikes one summer with him. Your father taught you everything there was to known about rebuilding a motorcycle from spare parts, which to be fair, was a huge bonus to the quartet of volleyball boys across the way.

“Be careful with that! I built that bike from the ground up, ok?” you instructed sternly, lending a hand to the movers who nodded grateful you were there to help them when the bike teetered too far to one side. Your aunt came out of the garage clasping your shoulder when the bike was securely out and off the ramp.

“Oh wow, that’s a gorgeous bike dear,” your aunt smiled. “You going to take it out for a spin later?”

“Yep! Right after the movers leave for the day,” you said. Your smile did not go unnoticed by the boys who not only stopped to look, but now were staring at you. It was 16:24 (4:24p.m.) when Hanamaki Takahiro first fell in love with you.

True to your word you went out the rest of the week running errands for your hosts (did a little grocery shopping while wearing your favorite backpack) on Monday, then on Tuesday you took a little joyride to the library to familiarize yourself with the layout of the neighborhood, by Thursday you already knew the earliest and latest time you should be out the door to make it to campus, so by Saturday, you were free to help with the chores around the house. It was the same day your aunt had planned a special dinner with her neighborhood best girl friend, Hanamaki-sama, as you affectionately called her. You aunt reminded you to go start cleaning up after your uncle returned from buying the last of the ice cream pops at the store down the block. You took a quick shower and changed into a pair of jean shorts paired with a royal blue loose fitting dri-fit longsleeve v-neck. You wandered into the kitchen wearing ankle socks covered by your house slippers. You were tasked with setting the table trying to get a sneak peak at the hot pot dinner your aunt was stirring. After shooing you away with a short laugh, you took a glass out of the dishwasher drying rack and poured yourself some water. 

“Hanamaki-sama is bringing her son along too,” your aunt said, silently gauging how you’d react. You just sipped your water with a curt nod pretending to simmer down your nerves. Was her son older than you? Younger? Was he nice? Etc. 

“Apparently you’re going to be in the same year when the school year starts,” your uncle’s voice echoed from the living room. He shut off the television to join you two in the kitchen.

“Oh, that’s nice.”

DING DONG DING

“Looks like they’re here,” your uncle said, holding on to your glass for you. “Why don’t you let them in.”

You nodded, brushing your stray bangs behind your ear. With a soft sigh escaping your lips, you opened the door with a swift turn of the nob.

“My my, dearie, aren’t you gorgeous,” hanamaki’s mother greeted you tapping your arm gently. Hanamaki on the other hand, for as tall and lanky as he seemed, he seemed a bit lackadaisical upon seeing your bright smile greet them at the door. He held a small bowl that was filled with tri colored popcorn with a thin cellophane cover on top. The snack was his idea because he had heard his mother speak to your aunt at length candidly mentioning how you would watch home movies with your father’s family every weekend until you started primary school.

“Hello to you too hana-sama,” you reply motioning her to come in. Then you notice her son with strawberry blond hair walking in behind her. He had dressed a little bit more formal like how he would on days leading up to an official match (solid color slacks and relaxed-fit printed shirt with a small moogen [infinity symbol] embroidered on the left sleeve) “And you must be…”

“Hanamaki Takahiro, but you can call me Makki,” he says when you close the door behind them. 

“I saw you at the store the other day buying some popcorn,“ Hanamaki-san mentions when she hands you her light jacket to hang. “You know how we talk, anyways, your aunt told me how much you like bite size chocolate squares in your popcorn I heard.”

Makki says nothing when your eyes glance toward the bowl. You had a full conversation with him when you two kept looking at each other. Your aunt had washed her hands and joined you as she and Hanamaki’s mother exchanged casual greetings as they headed to the dining area; your uncle was giving the curry a final stir. You and Makki were thankfully, left to your own devices and my gods did you two relish in it. 

Earlier that afternoon, he was speaking at length about his mother had been invited over to their neighbor’s house. It wasn’t the first time Makki had come over before, yet he had trouble easing his nerves because you were also going to be there. Makki paced back and forth trying “to get his shit together” while the company he kept on call was chuckling in what would certainly be an entertaining story for future reference.

“Makki, if you don’t date her at some point in the first quarter of the year, i will gladly dote on her out of my own free will,” Mattsun meant well, but at the same time, Makki knew the threat was an empty one. He was on a video call with his friends who shared the same sentiment as Mattsun. Soon the time approached for when his mother told him about the dinner party at your place. 

“Listen Takahiro, take it from me,” Oikawa says. “Treat Mattsun’s words as not necessarily a threat, but more of a firestarter.”

“Makki!” his mother’s voice calls from the otherside of his closed door. “C’mon, let’s go.”

He ends the call after his teammates hang up.

--

The cold piece of technological glass rubbed against your warm cheek. With your eyes closed, you recalled hearing OIkawa and Iwazumi remind the other two to spread the word to their juniors to start their conditioning regiment this upcoming weekend. Be it as it may, Makki took this opportunity to ask you if you wanted to be his running partner (this was a trap his other friends laid out for him since they’re trying their best not to meddle too much in your private affairs). 

You grumbled into your receiver imploring your neighbor to reconsider waking you up this early for a morning run. You left a note on the kitchen counter next to the landline in case your guardians woke up ahead of you to discover your now empty bed. Stifling a yawn, you meet Makki at your front door, dressed in a light jacket and a pair of running shorts. Your shoes weren’t in the best condition for running, rather, they were an old pair you didn’t mind using for this house call.

“Who runs at 6a.m. on a regular basis?” you ask him with a coy smile.

“Psychopaths and,” he holds your hand to steady yourself when you step down from the ledge of your short walkway. Makki lets go of your hand for a second to whisper an alternative answer. “Lovers.”

“Oh,” you tease, poking his cheek. An amused smile tugged your lips upward which you did not bother hiding. “Of course.”

“You don’t have to sound so annoyed by it, chisana josei.” 

Makki had since insisted on giving you the nickname because it was what his other three cohorts dubbed you one evening when you came over to return something your aunt borrowed from Hanamaki’s mother.

“Makki, who’s at the--oh hello there chisana josei,” the charming boy wearing an alien lime colored shirt and pearl sweatpants peered around the corner of the living room. You were reluctantly (read as invited inside) to disrupt the boys only sleepover being conducted at the Hanamaki household. 

“She’s cute Makki,” another disembodied voice, this time it was much deeper, spoke up this time. His curious eyes wandered up and down, yet although you were fully clothed, you felt entirely skyclad by the giant. You laughed a little bit at the compliment. 

“I wouldn’t say I’m cute,” you said when you ceased laughing, handing Makki the bowl and other tupperware you aunt borrowed from his mother a few nights ago. Makki quirked his brow at his two friends, sighing at their comments and for a split second, you saw his bottom lip jut out in a slight pout. 

“Oikawa, Mattsun, shut up,” he stated praying Iwazumi would at least straighten them out later. Unfortunately for Makki, Iwazumi was game in making his friend sweat a little bit because so far, you were able to refuse both Oikawa and Mattsukawa’s praises/favors.

“Oh ho ho,” you observed the last member of the trio to speak up. “And what would you describe yourself as anyway? It’s not like Makki to keep such a pretty secret from his friends.”

“Not you too Iwa-chan,” lime green sweater guy whined. 

“Are you three always like this to every girl or is it just the ones that don’t like you?” your eyes glazed over and Makki didn’t want to admit it, but you definitely telegraphed that you were angry. Iwazumi realized this as soon as he found himself face to face with your shorter stature defiantly staring up at him. The other boys watching the silent argument continue before Makki calmly told you they were just messing with you. Introductions and apologies were exchanged as soon as your stubbornness subsided when the four boys surrounded you rather quickly at the hallway of Makki’s front door. If it weren’t for the fact that each of them had a qualm of serenity, charisma, and stealth boosted up by plus 10, you would have challenged them to a simple game of chess. Then again, they were literal pillars loyal to the princely type who bestowed upon you your nickname.

“If they really wanted to ruffle my feathers,” you begin to say, crossing your arms over your chest opening. “They’d form a reverse harem and vie for my attention. You included Makki. I’ll see myself out.”

“I-wait, what?!” Makki finally had heard enough. 

“I have spoken,” you mentioned over your shoulder looking at his confused expression. “I’ll let you know when I’m back home. Have fun boys.”

You shut the front behind you, shaking your head whilst casting a glance to the heavens above, grinning like a wild cat.

“That went well, don’t you think?” OIkawa said, returning to his spot on the couch. “Makki, what’s with that look?” 

Mattsun and Iwazumi both shrugged when dragging their host back toward the kitchen area to gage how their friend suddenly realized something right then and there. It was 21:07 when Mattsun and Iwazumi realized their friend was in like with someone a month before their third year would commence. 

“I like her,” Makki found his voice suddenly and Oikawa had a large smile on his face. 

“Stage five, acceptance,” Mattsun states before he blocks a throw pillow aimed at his direction. Iwazumi shakes his head before laughing at the strawberry blonde’s luck.

--

When you two round the corner of your block for the fourth time, you slowed your pace while Makki turned around and began running backwards facing you. Sweat covered both of you in a glowing sheer shine as the sun was ever presently rising. 

“Slowing down already?” Makki taunted. 

“I’m not the one on the school’s volleyball team,” you explained in between your short breaths. “You submit your body to this kind of torture willingly and call it conditioning training?” 

He stopped jogging backwards for a second, instead opting to walk briskly toward you when he noticed your breathing becoming more steady. Makki might always be the first to challenge Iwazumi to an arm wrestling match and really gets along well with reading Mattsun’s expressions, but he was always reliable in helping keep Oikawa’s personality in check right behind the aforementioned. 

“Pretty much, chisana josei. C’mon,” he knelt down with his back toward you signaling to get on. You gladly accepted the piggy back ride on these mornings. It was the top reason why you didn’t mind the morning calls as much anymore. 

“I’m not too heavy for you?” you ask sheepishly, wrapping your arms around Makki’s shoulders when he stood up. 

“For the nth time, y/n, you’re not.” He shifted his arms underneath your knees, locking you in place after allowing you to shift your weight a little bit for comfort. 

“Ready when you are,” your breath fans across the back of his neck, causing his usually smooth spun cotton candy colored baby hairs to spike up. You pretended to not notice how pink his cheek was when you raised your head a short distance while he began his cooldown lap.

“Thank you Takahiro,” you say in a hazy tone, resting your head against his shoulder once again. He muttered a quiet “no problem,” internally screaming at himself for trying to not to die from the way he fell harder for you with every step he took. 

Makki glanced down a few minutes later, being greeted by your peaceful sleeping expression when he woke you up again arriving at his place once again; he was too proud to admit you were rather clingy as you got more drowsy during the third time you were invited to a film night. 

By this point, you had been living with your aunt and uncle for a week and a half, which in of itself was a delight for them. Yet it was rather treacherous for you because since the night you returned Makki’s bowls, you were often found crossing paths with either Oikawa, Mattsukawa, and/or Iwazumi. Sometimes Makki was with them or more often than nought, the boys were alone. Considering that the market was exactly in the center part of all your places of residence, the probability was rather high.

However, as a sign of good faith, OIkawa, with Makki’s blessing apparently a detail you were not aware of at the time, invited you to come along for a movie marathon the week before his birthday. Unbeknownst to you, as your eyes continued to droop during movie five of the line up, Makki froze when you decided to snatch one of the spare pillows from Oikawa’s sofa and used it as a buffer to rest your weary head on your neighbor’s lap. The boys were howling behind their eyes as they watched their friend finally succumb to the one time their newly appointed token girl friend had Makki wrapped around her finger by the simplest gesture the minute he started running his fingers through your hair. 

“Aaand here I thought Makki wasn’t going to get any sort of affection from a girl this year,” Oikawa teased. 

“Shut up and let me enjoy the movie,” Makki retorted. The other two in the living room sharing the couch with you and Makki noticed your childlike grin fade the deeper you fell asleep to the soundtrack of the movie.

Now you were sleeping again, tugging on Makki’s shirt instead, burrowing your head in between his shoulder blades causing his heart to jump to his throat. 

“Mmm, don’t want to go,” you mumbled. “Too early.” He found the spare key where his mom usually left it (in the rain gutter above the door frame) and opened his front door with ease; he coughed to clear his throat.

“OK,” was all Makki could say in the front of his peaceful hallway, kicking off his running shoes before entering the rest of his house. Upon reaching his room, he left the door slightly ajar as he laid your groggy self down on his bed. He was about to tuck you in after tracing your prominent features with his index finger, leaving a message on your cheek: “I like you my chisana josei.”

“Me too, ichigo no kori,” you murmur as you stifle a yawn, prying one eye opened allowing your selfish need to see Makki’s face turn to stone.

You pull yourself high enough to bump the tip of your nose with his, causing your lips to briefly brush past his own. Immediately upon receiving said peck, Makki regained his composure rather quickly allowing his hands to find their way on to your shoulders pulling your lips back on to his again. Her lips always looked so inviting, plump and deliciously filled with the right amount of venom and sugar, Makki thought. You inhaled a sharp breath. There was a growing rhythm between you two within the fleeting seconds you counted in your head.

“Mmph~!” you nodded in a miniscule way to keep Makki setting the pace your body reacting to the way Makki’s hand openly traced over the exposed parts of you; you cautiously looping your arms propelling him forward. Makki crawled back onto his bed the moment he guided you back down amongst the wrinkling sea of the bedding; his body now hovered above you with knees on either side of you, thus caging you beneath him. You pulled away first, revealing a hauntingly entancing smile. 

Makki’s face seemed a bit more flushed than when you started running your regular route less than forty-five minutes ago. 

“Now look who’s the breathless one,” you chastised your host in a cheeky manner. 

For the first time since July, Makki really studied your features, trying to commit every imperfection to memory tethering it to this love-drum beating in his chest. You laid there surrounded by the dark gray and black undertones of the surrounding pillows, your attire cascading a holographic reflection of the ever rising sun, illuminating your figure. Makki was the only one who got to baskin your natural face with the lack of makeup; your heaving chest; your scar above the bridge of your nose from when a crab nicked you with its claw as a child in the market. Despite your insecurities you told him about one day, returning from the store with him together, Makki saw only beauty. 

He could tell behind the way your pupils were focused on his own, the sun’s rays enhancing his reflection in them that caused his heart to bask in the light of a new day. Makki liked the way your hair was frizzy and tangled from the way his hands tousled it in his hands when he laid you down beneath him. Her hands were strong yet at the same time gentle. And her sweetened lips tasted like spun sugar fresh from the fair. Makki bent down toward your left side and whispered something before he continued to kiss you senseless.

The way I know you relented as Makki played with you hair and held you tighter and tighter, was something you craved, even if you weren’t pondering it before, you returned the seemingly unspoken gesture with a similar kindness. 

You cradled Makki’s face in your hands, pushing back his saccharinely hued textured hair again, asking him to catch his breath for a moment, synching his breathing with yours.

“C’mon Takahiro, b r e a t h e,” you advise, your eyebrows added to your pleading, moving one of your hands to rest against the middle of his chest tapping your fingertips lightly against his chest. You took advantage of this tonal shift; using your lower body to coerce his in switching positions with him. You were now the one hovering him, your hair undone, snuffing out the morning’s rays eagerly trying to sneak their way through the blinds of Makki’s room. This was not how either of you thought running at six in the morning would have ended, yet here you both were caught in the throes of your own summer enquinoxal love. Whether you two would want this to continue was entirely up to the two of you. 

As Makki’s breathing finally returned to his resting rhythym, you allowed his hand to caress the side of your face, tucking a few long strands of hair behind your ear. 

“My pretty chisana josei,” he said in the lowest register of his voice. “Finally.”

“...call me that again,” your voice has a slight lilt in it when you sigh. “I need to get used to it.”

Your natural smile could rattle the stars and Makki was determined to make sure not only knew that, his friends in arms also knew it too.

“Mine,” Makki said looking away like a child about to get scolded. 

“Uh-huh,” your retort mixed wonderfully with a chuckle harmonizing the two. You release him from your hold, checking the time on the analog clock when you quietly lept off his bed. “Get some sleep dear one; you earned your keep.” 

You tapped your fingers over your lips glancing at Makki long enough to watch him bring an arm over his eyes. Literal steam could have been escaping his ears with how your taunts drove him mad.

It was 06:59 when y/n and Hanamaki decided this was when you truly loved another.

--weekend messaging rates apply--

Suffice to say you made a mental note to make good on your word, but opted to maintain the peace seeing him outside with said dessert with a grin. 

[betterdaysareatoenailaway]

Random Review #3: Sleepwalkers (1992) and “Sleep Walk” (1959)

I. Sleepwalkers (1992) I couldn’t sleep last night so I started watching a trashy B-movie penned by Stephen King specifically for the screen called Sleepwalkers (1992). Simply put, the film is an unmitigated disaster. A piece of shit. But it didn’t need to be. That’s what’s so annoying about it. By 1992 King was a grizzled veteran of the silver screen, with more adaptations under his belt than any other author of his cohort. Puzo had the Godfather films (1972 and 1974, respectively), sure, but nothing else. Leonard Gardner had Fat City (1972), a movie I love, but Gardner got sucked into the Hollywood scene of cocaine and hot tub parties and never published another novel, focusing instead on screenplays for shitty TV shows like NYPD Blue. After Demon Seed (1977), a movie I have seen and disliked, nobody would touch Dean Koontz’s stuff with a ten foot pole, which is too bad because The Voice of the Night, a 1980 novel about two young pals, one of whom is a psychopath trying to convince the other to help him commit murder, would make a terrific movie. But Koontz’s adaptations have been uniformly awful. The made-for-TV film starring John C McGinley, 1997′s Intensity, is especially bad. There are exceptions, but Stephen King has been lucky enough to avoid the fate of his peers. Big name directors have tackled his work, from Stanley Kubrick to Brian De Palma. King even does a decent job of acting in Pet Semetary (1989), in his own Maximum Overdrive (1986) and in George Romero’s Creepshow (1982), where he plays a yokel named Jordy Verril who gets infected by a meteorite that causes green weeds to grow all over his body. Many have criticized King’s over-the-top performance in that flick, but for me King perfectly nails the campy and comical tone that Romero was going for. The dissolves in Creepshow literally come right off the pages of comics, so people expecting a subtle Ordinary People-style turn from King had clearly walked into the wrong theatre. Undoubtedly Creepshow succeeds at what it set out to do. I’m not sure Sleepwalkers succeeds though, unless the film’s goal was to get me to like cats even more than I already do. But I already love cats a great deal. Here’s my cat Cookie watching me edit this very blog post. 

And here’s one of my other cats, Church, named after the cat that reanimates and creeps out Louis and Ellie in Pet Sematary. Photo by @ScareAlex.

SPOILER ALERT: Do not keep reading if you plan on watching Sleepwalkers and want to find out for yourself what happens.

Stephen King saw many of his novels get adapted in the late 1970s and 80s: Carrie, The Shining, Firestarter, Christine, Cujo, and the movie that spawned the 1950s nostalgia industrial complex, Stand By Me, but Sleepwalkers was the first time he wrote a script specifically for the screen rather than adapting a novel that already existed. Maybe that’s why it’s so fucking bad. Stephen King is a novelist, gifted with a novelist’s rich imagination. He’s prone to giving backstories to even the most peripheral characters - think of Joe Chamber’s alcoholic neighbour Gary Pervier in the novel Cujo, who King follows for an unbelievable number of pages as the man stumbles drunkenly around his house spouting his catch phrase “I don’t give a shit,” drills a hole through his phone book so he can hang it from a string beside his phone, complains about his hemorrhoids getting “as big as golfballs” (I’m not joking), and just generally acts like an asshole until a rabid Cujo bounds over, rips his throat out, and he bleeds to death. In the novel Pervier’s death takes more than a few pages, but it makes for fun reading. You hate the man so fucking much that watching him die feels oddly satisfying. In the movie, though, his death occurs pretty quickly, and in a darkened hallway, so it’s hard to see what’s going on aside from Gary’s foot trembling. And Pervier’s “I don’t give a shit” makes sense when he’s drilling a hole in the phone book, not when he’s about to be savagely attacked by a rabid St Bernard. There’s just less room for back story in movies. In a medium that demands pruning and chiseling and the “less is more” dictum, King’s writing takes a marked turn for the worse. King is a prose maximalist, who freely admits to “writing to outrageous lengths” in his novels, listing It, The Stand, and The Tommyknockers as particularly egregious examples of literary logorrhea. He is not especially equipped to write concisely. This weakness is most apparent in Sleepwalkers’ dialogue, which sounds like it was supposed to be snappy and smart, like something Aaron Sorkin would write, but instead comes off like an even worse Tango & Cash, all bad jokes and shitty puns. More on those bad jokes later. First, the plot.

Sleepwalkers is about a boy named Charles and his mother Mary who travel around the United States killing and feeding off the lifeforce of various unfortunate people (if this sounds a little like The True Knot in Doctor Sleep, you’re not wrong. But self-plagiarism is not a crime). Charles and Mary are shapeshifting werewolf-type creatures called werecats, a species with its very own Wikipedia page. Wikipedia confers legitimacy dont’cha know, so lets assume werecats are real beings. According to said page, a werecat, “also written in a hyphenated form as were-cat) is an analogy to ‘werewolf’ for a feline therianthropic creature.” I’m gonna spell it with the hyphen from now on because “werecats” just looks like a typo. Okay? Okay.

Oddly enough, the were-cats in Sleepwalkers are terrified of cats. Actual cats. For the were-cats, cute kittens = kryptonite. When they see a cat or cats plural, this happens to them:

^ That is literally a scene from the movie. Charles is speeding when a cop pulls alongside him and bellows at him to pull over. Ever the rebel, Charles flips the cop the finger. But the cop has a cat named Clovis in his car, and when the cat pops up to have a look at the kid (see below), Charles shapeshifts first into a younger boy, then into whatever the fuck that is in the above screenshot.

Now, the were-cats aversion to normal cats is confusing because one would assume a were-cat to be a more evolved (or perhaps devolved?) version of the typical house kitty. The fact that these were-cats are bipedal alone suggests an advantage over our furry four-legged friends, no? Kinda like if humans were afraid of fucking gorillas. Wait...we are scared of gorillas. And chimpanzees. And all apes really. Okay, maybe the conceit of the film isn’t so silly after all. The film itself, however, is about as silly as a bad horror movie can get. When the policeman gets back to precinct and describes the incident above (”his face turned into a blur”) he is roundly ridiculed because in movies involving the supernatural nobody believes in the supernatural until it confronts them. It’s the law, sorry. Things don’t end well for the cop. Or for the guy who gets murdered when the mom stabs him with...an ear of corn. Yes, an ear of corn. Somehow, the mother is able to jam corn on the cob through a man’s body, without crushing the vegetable or turning it into yellow mash. It’s pretty amazing. Here is a sample of dialog from that scene: Cop About To Die On The Phone to Precinct: There’s blood everywhere! *STAB* Murderous Mother: No vegetables, no dessert. That is actually a line in the movie. “No vegetables, no dessert.” It’s no “let off some steam, Bennett” but it’s close. Told ya I’d get back to the bad jokes. See, Mary and Charles are new in town and therefore seeking to ingratiate themselves by killing everyone who suspects them of being weird, all while avoiding cats as best they can. At one point Charles yanks a man’s hand off and tells him to "keep [his] hands to [him]self," giving the man back his severed bloody hand. Later on Charles starts dating a girl who will gradually - and I do mean gradually - come to realize her boyfriend is not a real person but in fact a were-cat. Eventually our spunky young protagonist - Madchen Amick, who fans of Twin Peaks will recognize as Shelly - and a team of cats led by the adorable Clovis- kill the were-cat shapeshifting things and the sleepy small town (which is named Travis for some reason) goes back to normal, albeit with a slightly diminished population. For those keeping score, that’s Human/Cat Alliance 1, Shapeshifting Were-cats 0. It is clear triumph for the felis catus/people team! Unless we’re going by kill count, in which case it is closer to Human/Cat Alliance 2, Were-cats 26. I arrived at this figure through my own notes but also through a helpful video that takes a comprehensive and complete “carnage count” of all kills in Sleepwalkers: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmt-DroK6uA

II. Santo & Johnny “Sleep Walk” (1959) Because Sleepwalkers is decidedly not known for its good acting or its well-written screenplay, it is perhaps best known for its liberal and sometimes contrapuntal use of Santo & Johnny’s classic steel guitar song “Sleep Walk,” possibly the most famous (and therefore best) instrumental of the 20th century. Some might say “Sleep Walk” is tied for the #1 spot with “Green Onions” by Booker T & the M.G.’s and/or “Wipe Out” by The Surfaris, but I disagree. The Santo & Johnny song is #1 because of its incalculable influence on all subsequent popular music. 

I’m not saying “Wipe Out” didn't inspire a million imitators, both contemporaneously and even decades later…for example here’s a surf rock instrumental from 1999 called “Giant Cow" by a Toronto band called The Urban Surf Kings. The video was one of the first to be animated using Flash (and it shows):

So there are no shortage of surf rock bands, even now, decades after its emergence from the shores of California to the jukeboxes of Middle America. My old band Sleep for the Nightlife used to regularly play Rancho Relaxo with a surf rock band called the Dildonics, who I liked a great deal. There's even a Danish surf rock band called Baby Woodrose, whose debut album is a favourite of mine. They apparently compete for the title of Denmark’s biggest surf pop band with a group called The Setting Son. When a country that has no surfing culture and no beaches has multiple surf rock bands, it is safe to say the genre has attained international reach. As far as I can tell, there aren’t many bands out there playing Booker T & the M.G.’s inspired instrumental rock. Link Wray’s “Rumble” was released four years before “Green Onions.” But the influence of Santo and Johnny’s “Sleep Walk” is so ubiquitous as to be almost immeasurable. The reason for this is the sheer popularity of the song’s chord progression. If Santo and Johnny hadn’t written it first, somebody else would have, simply because the progression is so beautiful and easy on the ears and resolvable in a satisfying way. Have a listen to “Sleep Walk” first and then let’s check out some songs it directly inspired. 

The chords are C, A minor, F and G. Minor variations sometimes reverse the last two chords, but if it begins with C to A minor, you can bet it’s following the “Sleep Walk” formula, almost as if musicians influenced by the song are in the titular trance. When it comes to playing guitar, Tom Waits once said “your hands are like dogs, going to the same places they’ve been. You have to be careful when playing is no longer in the mind but in the fingers, going to happy places. You have to break them of their habits or you don’t explore; you only play what is confident and pleasing.” Not only is it comforting to play and/or hear what we already know, studies have shown that our brains actively resist new music, because it takes work to understand the new information and assimilate it into a pattern we are cogent of. It isn’t until the brain recognizes the pattern that it gives us a dopamine rush. I’m not much for Pitchfork anymore, but a recent article they posted does a fine job of discussing this phenomenon in greater detail.

Led Zeppelin’s “D’Yer Maker” uses the “Sleep Walk” riff prominently, anchored by John Bonham and John Paul Jones’ white-boy reggae beat: 

Here it is again with Del Shannon’s classic “Little Town Flirt.” I love Shannon’s falsetto at the end when he goes “you better run and hide now bo-o-oy.”

The Beatles “Happiness is a Warm Gun” uses the Sleep Walk progression, though not for the whole song. It goes into the progression at the bridge at 1:34: 

Tumblr won’t let me embed any more videos, so you’ll to travel to another tab to hear these songs, but Neil Young gets in on the act with his overlooked classic “Winterlong:” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RV6r66n3TFI On their 1996 EP Interstate 8 Modest Mouse pay direct homage by singing over their own rendition of the original Santo & Johnny version, right down to the weeping steel guitar part: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VT_PwXjCqqs The vocals are typical wispy whispered indie rock vocals, but I think they work, particularly the two different voices. They titled their version “Sleepwalking (Couples Only Dance Prom Night).”

Dwight Yoakam’s “Thousand Miles From Nowhere” makes cinematic use of it. This song plays over the credits of one of my all-time favourite movies, 1993′s Red Rock West feat. Nicolas Cage, Lara Flynn Boyle, Dennis Hopper, and J.T. Walsh https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tu3ypuKq8WE

“39″ is my favourite Queen song. I guess now I know why. It uses my fav chord progression: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kE8kGMfXaFU 

Blink 182 scored their first hit “Dammit” with a minor variation on the Sleep Walk chord progression: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sT0g16_LQaQ

Midwest beer drinkin bar rockers Connections scored a shoulda-been-a-hit with the fist-pumping “Beat the Sky:” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YSNRq0n_WYA You’d be hard pressed to find a weaker lead singer than this guy (save for me, natch), but they make it work. This one’s an anthem.

Spoon, who have made a career out of deconstructing rock n’ roll, so that their songs sometimes sound needlessly sparse (especially “The Ghost of You Lingers,” which takes minimalism to its most extreme...just a piano being bashed on staccato-style for four minutes), so it should surprise nobody that they re-arrange the Sleep Walk chords on their classic from Gimme Fiction, “I Summon You:” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=teXA8N3aF9M I love that opening line: remember the weight of the world was a sound that we used to buy? I think songwriter Britt Daniel is talking about buying albums from the likes of Pearl Jam or Smashing Pumpkins, any of those grunge bands with pessimistic worldviews. There are a million more examples. I remember seeing some YouTube video where a trio of gross douchebros keep playing the same progression while singing a bunch of hits over it. I don’t like the smarmy way they do it, making it seem like artists are lazy and deliberately stealing. I don’t think it’s plagiarism to use this progression. And furthermore, tempo and production make all the difference. Take “This Magic Moment” for example. There's a version by Jay & the Americans and one by Ben E King & the Drifters. I’ve never been a fan of those shrieking violins or fiddles that open the latter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bacBKKgc4Uo The Jay & the Americans version puts the guitar riff way in the forefront, which I like a lot more. The guitar plays the entire progression once before the singing starts and the band joins in: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pKfASw6qoag

Each version has its own distinctive feel. They are pretty much two different songs. Perhaps the most famous use of the Sleep Walk progression is “Unchained Melody” by the Righteous Brothers, which is one of my favourite songs ever. The guy who chose to let Bobby Hatfield sing this one by himself must have kicked himself afterwards when it became a hit, much bigger than "You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling."https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qiiyq2xrSI0

What can you say about “Unchained Melody” that hasn’t already been said? God, that miraculously strong vocal, the way the strings (and later on, brass horns) are panned way over to the furthest reaches the left speaker while the drums and guitar are way over in the right, with the singing smack dab in the middle creates a kind of distance and sharp clarity that has never been reproduced in popular music, like seeing the skyscrapers of some distant city after an endless stretch of highway. After listening to “Unchained Melody,” one has to wonder: can that progression ever be improved upon? Can any artist write something more haunting, more beautiful, more uplifting than that? The “need your love” crescendo hits so fucking hard, as both the emotional and the sonic climax of the song, which of course is no accident...the strings descending and crashing like a waterfall of sound, it gets me every fucking time. Legend has it that King George II was so moved by the “Hallelujah” section of Handel’s “Messiah” that he stood up, he couldn't help himself, couldn't believe what he was hearing. I get that feeling with all my favourite songs. "1979." "Unchained Melody." "In The Still of the Night." "Digital Bath." "Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?" "Interstate." "Liar's Tale." “Gimme Shelter.” The list goes on and on. Music is supposed to move us.

King George II stood because he was moved to do so. Music may be our creation, but it isn't our subordinate. All those sci-fi stories warning about technology growing beyond our control aren’t that far-fetched. Music is our creation but its power lies beyond our control. We are subordinate to music, helpless against its power and might, its urgency and vitality and beauty. There have been many times in my life when I have been so obsessed with a particular song that I pretty much want to live inside of it forever. A house of sound. I remember detoxing from heroin and listening to Grimes “Realiti” on repeat for twelve hours. Detoxing from OxyContin and listening to The Beach Boys “Dont Worry Baby” over and over. Or just being young and listening to “Tonight Tonight” over and over and over, tears streaming from my eyes in that way you cry when you’re a kid because you just feel so much and you don’t know what to do with the intensity of those feelings. It is precisely because we are so moved by music that we keep creating it. And in the act of that creation we are free. There are no limits to that freedom, which is why bands time and time again return to the well-worn Sleep Walk chord progression and try to make something new from it. Back in 2006, soon after buying what was then the new Yeah Yeah Yeahs album, I found myself playing the album’s closing track over and over. I loved the chorus and I loved the way it collapses into a lo-fi demo at the very end, stripping away the studio sheen and...not to be too punny, showing its bones (the album title is Show Your Bones). Later on I would realize that the song, called “Turn Into,” uses the Sleep Walk chord progression. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=exqCFoPiwpk

It’s just like, what Waits said, our hands goes to where we are familiar. And so do our ears, which is why jazz often sounds so unpleasant to us upon first listen. Or Captain Beefheart. But it’s worth the effort to discover new stuff, just as it’s worth the effort to try and write it. I recently lamented on this blog that music to me now is more about remembrance than discovery, but I’m still only 35 years old. I’m middle-aged right now (I don’t expect to live past 70, not with the lifestyle I’ve been living). There’s still a whole other half life to find new music and love and leave it for still newer stuff. It’s worth the challenge, that moment of inner resistance we feel when confronted with something new and challenging and strange sounding. The austere demands of adult life, rent and routine, take so much of our time. I still make time for creative pursuits, but I don’t really have much time for discovery, for seeking out new music. But I’ve resolved to start making more time. A few years ago I tried to listen to and like Trout Mask Replica but I couldn’t. I just didn’t get what was going on. It sounded like a bunch of mistakes piled on top of each other. But then a few days ago I was writing while listening to music, as I always do, and YouTube somehow landed on Lick My Decals Off, Baby. I didn’t love what I was hearing but I was intrigued enough to keep going. And now I really like this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EMnd9dvb3sA&pbjreload=101 Another example I’ll give is the rare Robert Pollard gem “Prom Is Coming.” The first time I heard this song, it sounded like someone who can’t play guitar messing around, but the more I heard it the more I realized there’s a song there. It’s weird and strange, but it’s there. The lyrics are classic Pollard: Disregard injury and race madly out of the universe by sundown. Pollard obviously has a special place in his heart for this track. He named one of his many record labels Prom Is Coming Records and he titled the Boston Spaceships best-of collection Out of the Universe By Sundown. I don’t know if I’ll ever become a Captain Beefheart megafan but I can hear that the man was doing something very strange and, at times, beautiful. And anyway, why should everything be easy? Aren’t some challenges worth meeting for the experience waiting on the other side of comprehension or acceptance? I try to remember this now whenever I’m first confronted with new music, instead of vetoing it right away. Most of my favourite bands I was initially resistant to when I first heard them. Queens of the Stone Age, Kyuss, Guided by Voices, Spoon, Heavy Times. All bands I didn’t like at first.  I don’t wanna sleepwalk through life, surrounding myself only with things I have already experienced. I need to stay awake. Because soon enough I’ll be asleep forever. We need to try everything we can before the Big Sleep comes to take us back to the great blankness, the terrible question mark that bookends our lives.

[okay-j-hannah]

Flustered Feelings

Harry Potter : Fic

Fred x Reader

Word Count: 1664

Warnings: I LOVE IT! I don’t think it’s as angsty as I would have liked it to be - but it definitely brings out the feels 

Request: “Hi!! First I just wanted to say that I love your writing and I absolutely loved a “mini series “ with Fred 💕I wanted to ask if you could write something with Fred Weasley like a soulmate Au where they can feel what their soulmate is feeling low key angsty but a happy and cute ending pleaseee 💗💗” - @itsp-erf

A/N: Still at a loss as to who your soulmate could be, you keep a sharp eye out when you grow suspicious of a boy you notice at the grand Weasley wedding

(Y/N) put a hand to her chest and felt a sudden wave of panic fly to her limbs. Though she was resting calmly in the living room, a pang burned in her head as her stomach dropped. This had become a regular occurrence for the last year or so. At the most random moments she’d experience significant feelings of loss or dread.

It didn’t necessarily surprise her – their world was currently being controlled by the darkest wizard of the age. Whoever this mystery soulmate of hers was, he was constantly being thrown into the pits.

Her godmother, Tonks, came into the space with two cups of tea in her grasp, “Oh no. Something happen again?”

“Not as bad as the other day,” (Y/N) responded, taking the cup and saucer Tonks offered her. “That was almost like he lost someone. I wouldn’t be surprised with everything that’s going on.” The strange panic subsided slightly.

“I suppose with the number of disappearances and deaths, this soulmate of yours could be tangled right in the middle of it.”

(Y/N) warmed her fingers against the teacup and wondered, “That’s going to make it hard to figure out who it is. With everyone being in a constant state of panic.”

“As long as you keep him as soon as you find him. You know it took Remus months to accept the fact that I was the one for him,” Tonks took a sip of her drink. “But you know you’re never really happy until you find your soulmate.”

Ever since the war began, (Y/N) had moved in with her godmother and her husband, wishing to be closer to the Order. Her parents disapproved, of course, but this was a time for wizards to gather against the common enemy.

“Dora,” came a small voice from the kitchen. “If we’re going to make it to the wedding at all we’ll have to leave now.”

Remus Lupin stood in the shadow of the doorway, his shabby coat making him look thinner than normal. (Y/N) gave him a warm smile and gazed at Tonks for a response.

“You’re right; you still coming, (Y/N)?”

With a nod, (Y/N) followed suit, watching Tonks stand from the couch and rub an ache in her back.

“Are you feeling any better?” Lupin asked, moving towards his wife, hesitantly placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I’ve stopped throwing up all my organs if that’s what you mean,” she laughed to convince him it was a joke, but he kept his stony gaze. “Honestly, Remus, I’m alright. Let’s go! I can’t wait for (Y/N) to finally meet everyone.”

The following wedding ceremony of Bill and Fleur Weasley was absolutely breathtaking. And what with everything that’s been brewing in the community – it was nice to have something as normal as a wedding happen.

(Y/N) remained close to Lupin and Tonks, being sure to introduce herself only when necessary. She discovered that a defining quality of the Weasley’s was their flaming red hair and freckled faces. It was even more evident after Tonks pulled Ginny Weasley aside for (Y/N) to become acquainted with.

Of the many siblings of the groom, Ginny was the one closest to (Y/N) in age.

“So, you’re Tonks’ goddaughter?” the ginger asked, straightening her pale gold bridesmaid dress. She looked rather pretty in it.

“Yes. Our families have always been close, and my mother made a promise that she could be my godmother, even though she was way underage when I was born,” she smiled, sipping her champagne.

Ginny nodded, “We love Tonks over here. She’s always been the life of the party. Do you live with her?”

They walked around the dance floor, noticing couples pull each other to get in on the slow song.

“I do. My parents find it ridiculous that I support Harry Potter and the Order. But I told them there was nothing they could do that would stop me from helping the cause. They’ve basically turned me into the Ministry – a blood traitor. Tonks and Remus are professionals at not being seen, so it helps me stay hidden.”

Ginny sneered, “That’s horrible. How could your parents be…”

“Hey, Ginny!” Another red head rammed into her as he attempted to catch a couple of gnomes scuttling across the ground.

“George, I swear if you…”

He yelled back, “No time to talk!”

A flouncy girl with big eyes and streaming blonde hair followed him in an airy fashion, “If you see George suddenly sing Opera or begin speaking in Mermish, please tell me. Thank you.”

After she floated away towards the gnomes, (Y/N) gave an exasperated puzzled expression, “Mermish?”

“That’s Luna,” Ginny laughed. “She’s a bit odd, but we love her all the same. I think she believes that gnome bites give you random talents.”

(Y/N) laughed along with her, “And who was the red head? Another Weasley I assume.”

“One of my brothers – I swear I have a hundred of them. I wonder where Fred is. They’re twins, see, they’re usually not far from each other.”

They scanned the dance floor when (Y/N) suddenly got a fluttering in her stomach. Heat was rising in her neck and flooding her cheeks as her chest seized up.

“Someone’s gotten a bit flustered,” Ginny smirked, eyeing her new friend. “Spot something you like?”

“No, I’m sorry,” she shook her head hard, pushing away the sudden feelings. “It’s the whole soulmate thing. It’s been acting up lately, I think I’m closer to him than I think. He’s getting butterflies – it’s him that’s gotten all flustered.”

Ginny crossed her arms, “I get it. That’s Fred by the way – over there across the dance floor. The one that’s staring at you.”

(Y/N) turned her gaze and found a tall, slender guy standing close to the tent. He looked remarkably like George, whom she just saw, but there was still something different about him. He turned away immediately after realizing that she was gazing back at him.

She suddenly got a suspicion.

“Ginny, will you kick me in the knee?”

“What?” she whipped around and scoffed, “I’ve known you for twenty minutes and you’re asking me to kick you…”

“In the knee, yes.” Her eyes remained on Fred as she asked this.

In the next second, Ginny squared a sharp tap to her shin and (Y/N) bent slightly on the impact but didn’t turn her eyes away from her target.

Fred suddenly jerked to the side, his hand reaching down to his leg with a puzzled expression.

Could he really be?

But a bolt of bright blue shot into the tent, a delicate Lynx standing in the midst of surprised people, its mouth open and a deep voice emitting from it.

“The Ministry has fallen. The Minister of Magic is dead. They are coming.”

Chaos ensued as couples and families scurried to each other to Disapparate. Members of the Order began casting Shield Charms, (Y/N) noticing Tonks and Lupin. Dark shadows grew overhead as many flying objects came crashing around the yard.

“We need to go,” Ginny cried, grabbing (Y/N)’s hand and darting for outside the tent. But a handful of Death Eaters appeared and aimed their wands.

(Y/N) lowered hers from her sleeve and muttered, “We’ll have to fight our way out.”

“Stop there and we won’t hurt you. We have questions,” one of the hooded figures stated, advancing. “Where is Potter?”

“Not here. Not anywhere near here,” Ginny frantically replied, “You should be doing something more useful with your time than investigating places he wouldn’t be.”

(Y/N) made to move past them, but another Death Eater flicked his wand, sending her flying to the ground, “Did I say you could leave? Stay there!”

“Move along, boys. What you’re doing is pointless with Harry not here. No one knows where he is.” It was Fred. And he was cautiously making his way over to the two girls.

(Y/N) attempted to get up off the ground, but was struck with another spell, making her wince.

“Do you just not follow orders?” the Death Eater asked.

“Not from monsters like you,” she grimaced, the last paralyzing spell still lingering in her limbs. She paused to glance at Fred who held a slight twinge of pain in his face.

It had to be him, she thought.

One of the Death Eaters stepped forward, “Lay off ‘em. They’re just kids. There are plenty members of the Order by the house we could question. Don’t waste your time on this insolence.”

The cohort agreed, jetting past the one figure still pointing his wand at (Y/N), “Don’t think I won’t forget your pretty face, eh sweetheart?” He jabbed his weapon towards her and relished in the sharp intake of breath she gave, holding her side.

When he left, Ginny rounded on her new friend, “Are you alright? What did he do?”

“Some kind of stinging jinx.” Fred was the one to reply, him rubbing a spot on his ribs, “It’s almost like it’s burning.”

Ginny flickered her eyes to her brother before standing, pulling (Y/N) up with her. A slow smile filled her face as she gestured between the two people adjacent to her.

“Woah, woah, wait a minute. Fred – are you saying that…”

Fred advanced (Y/N), concern in his eyes, but also something else. Admiration? Confusion? Hope? (Y/N) wondered.

“Is that what you’re feeling?” he muttered, pointing to her side.

She subtly nodded, “But you weren’t hit with anything.”

“Didn’t have to be,” he smirked, sticking out his hand. “Fred Weasley.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” She reached for his hand and suddenly felt those same fluttering feelings grow in her stomach. It was because Fred was looking at her. “You’re feeling a bit flustered at the moment.”

The slight confidence that was growing in his gaze began to fall, “You feel that too?”

“How many butterflies do you have in your stomach?” she giggled, a newfound blush creeping on her cheeks.

“I’m thinking we have a lot more in common than you think,” he grinned.

~~~

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[noxstellacaelum]

Female Protagonists Deserve Their Stories

Believe me, I get it.  I am not the target audience for shows like Shadowhunters, Veronica Mars, or GoT.  I am far, far removed from ship wars, cons, and the overall social media craziness that seems to animate fandom culture for shows like these.  These shows -- particularly Shadowunters -- are really just guilty pleasures for me.  With bonus points b/c they are sci fi/supernatural/fantasy/action & adventure genre pieces with strong female protagonists.  That’s all.  Just a genre that I love.  Nothing life-changing.  

So why, months later, am I still so pissed off about GoT S8, Shadowhunters 3B and the &*%& Shadowhunters finale, and basically all of Veronica Mars S4?  Especially when the writers/ show runners behind these projects -- and huge chunks of the fandom -- really, really don’t give a shit about what someone in my demographic thinks.    

Fundamentally, I am pissed off because each of these shows destroyed the narrative arcs of their female characters.  And, because the showrunners -- a bunch of middle-aged dudes -- should have known better.  

This post focuses on Shadowhunters.  And I am writing it just for me.  I appreciate and understand that others may disagree.

Ok, let’s just acknowledge the demographically engineered pulpy charms of Shadowhunters (TV) up front.  The cast were (and still are, obviously) uniformly gorgeous; the casting was racially diverse (YAY!!!); each season features lots of angst-y love triangles, break-ups and make-ups (Oh, the drama :-)); and, the show deliberately centered LGBTQIA relationships, especially Malec (again, YAY!!!)

So, what’s my problem, when there is so much to like about the show’s stated desire to be inclusive and diverse?  Especially when I believe that representation matters, particularly in genre projects like Shadowhunters, which historically have tended to lack diversity with respect to race and sexual/gender identity.

My problem is that somewhere along the line, the Shadowhunters showrunners decided that to tell the story they wanted to tell, they had to eviscerate the narrative arcs of Clary, and by extension, Jace.  

To understand why the decision to sideline Clary (and Jace) is so frustrating, it helps to know a bit about the TV show’s source material.  (Spoilers follow) SHTV is based on The Mortal Instruments, a six-book series written by Cassie Clare.  Clary is the protagonist of TMI:  Clare has described TMI as a “girl power” story, and she has made it clear that in TMI, she wanted to tell a story where a girl saves the world.  She’s even clapped back at those who would question whether Clary is worthy of heroine status.  Last year, in the Thule section of Queen of Air and Darkness, Clare showed us an AU where Clary doesn’t save the world (and is instead killed by Lilith, the mother of demons).  It’s a hellscape:  Clary’s evil brother Jonathan controls everyone and everything; angelic power no longer works; and anyone who tries to resist Jonathan is hunted, killed, “endarked” (turned into a soulless, murderous soldier), or otherwise enspelled.  All of our other heroes are dead or enthralled.  Realizing that he was turning into a demon, Magnus begged Alec to kill him (which Alec does, before committing suicide).  And Clary’s love Jace?  Devastated by Clary’s death, and enspelled by Jonathan, Jace becomes twisted and evil.  

In addition to the Thule AU, Clare has written more generally about right of female creators to own their own work (on a Tumblr blog post).  And, she has used other series in the shadowhunter world to center other characters and relationships (e.g., the Malec series currently underway); to interrogate gender roles (e.g., the Julian and Emma pairing in TDA); and to explore relationships and identities other than the Clary/Jace pairing (e.g. the polyamorous Christina/Mark/Kieran relationship in TDA).  Why does all of this matter for SHTV?  Well, Clare wrote TMI, and she made Clary the protagonist.  So the fact that Clary is the protagonist of TMI was not some ancillary or inconvenient matter for SHTV.  It was and is at the center of the books upon which SHTV is based, and as to which the show has IP rights.    

[NB:  This is not to suggest that Clare prefers Clary and Jace to other characters or other ships, or that other characters aren’t also heroic or ship-worthy -- they are, they are just not the protagonists of TMI.  And, SHTV is still based on TMI.]

[NB2:   And, I absolutely don’t mean to suggest that the show had to be a transcription of the books, or that only Clary and Jace should have gotten screen time.  I am affirmatively HAPPY that the show gave rich story lines to other characters -- especially Simon, Magnus and Alec.]

With that background in mind, why do I think that Season 3B and the finale destroyed the Clary and Jace characters?  Well -- and I know this sounds snarky -- let’s look at the parade of plotholes, the random redistribution of plot points, Clary’s loss of agency, the and general sidelining of the Clary and Jace characters and their heroism.  (Again, spoilers to follow).  I leave the memory wipe to last here, because I still can’t believe that anyone thought destroying three seasons of character development was a good idea.  

1. Evil Clary story line:  In the books, Jace is twinned with Jonathan.  This makes narrative sense:  Jace and Jonathan are “brothers” of a sort, having both been raised by Valentine, and Jace’s vulnerability to Jonathan (and Lilith) is rooted in childhood trauma of abuse and neglect that Jace endured at the hands of Valentine.  

In the show, however, Clary is twinned with Jonathan.  From the start, Clary’s ability to resist the rune is tied to her proximity to Jace.   In fact, as 3B progresses, Clary becomes increasingly unhinged and violent any time she is physically separated from Jace.  Eventually, when she is blasted behind a wall while on mission (and thus physically separated from Jace), she succumbs entirely.   All of a sudden we have dark Clary, taking a walk on the wild side with the murderous brother who kidnapped her and nearly killed Jace just a few short weeks ago in show time.  Dark Clary joining forces to burn down the world that she loved, and that she repeatedly saved.  Really???  And then, when Jace and the others finally manage to free her from twinning rune, we see Clary saying that she WANTED to help Jonathan with his murderous rampage.  And, we hear Jace saying that the call of blood was too hard for Clary to resist.  Again, really??? The girl who killed her father, called upon an angel to bring her boyfriend back to life, survived the death of her mother, and who was nearly killed by her possessed boyfriend is somehow unable to resist the call of her Morgenstern blood?  What about Clary’s agency?  Her strength?  Her love for Jace and her chosen family?  Her identity as a shadowhunter?  Enthralled book Jace at least still loves Clary, and has a scene where he temporarily breaks free of the twinning rune, and makes it clear to Jonathan that he hates him, and that he is being controlled. But Clary says she wanted to help her brother, and that it’s her fault for being unable to resist her “blood.” While team evil might have been fun -- and probably was a blast for the actors to play -- it didn’t make narrative sense to me.  Not the biggest sin, and to each his own.  But not for me.

2.  Heavenly fire storyline:  In the book, Jace is filled w/ heavenly fire.  Clary eventually figures out how to get the heavenly fire from Jace into her weapon (heosphoros), which she uses to kill Jonathan.  In the show, Izzy gets the entire heavenly fire storyline.  Again, why???  For one thing, the scene in which Clary and Izzy fight (and Izzy ends up with the heavenly fire after being struck by shrapnel) -- while cool -- made no sense to me.  Book Izzy is a formidable warrior.  Show Izzy is disarmed by Clary (who has been training to be a shadowhunter for, like, 5 minutes at the time of their battle).  Also, why does Izzy get the heavenly fire from a few bits of shrapnel, but Clary is totally fine after being STABBED by the sword?  More generally, other than giving Izzy more to do, what was the thinking behind taking away this story arc from Clary and Jace?  And, for making Jace basically a potted plant in 3B?   (In contrast to book Jace — who was key to the good guys’ victory— show Jace is made to basically stand there: Show Alec, Izzy, Magnus, and Simon get literally every single heroic plot point in the finale — remember that we’re Lightwoods moment, sans Jace (the adoptive brother)?? — while Jace is relegated to crying or supporting Clary.)

3.  The Jace character:  While this post is principally about Clary, I can’t help but note that the show did everything possible to isolate Jace and make him incompetent and unlikable.  

- Book Jace comes across as arrogant and as a wise ass, but Clary and Alec see the arrogance for what it is -- a coping mechanism/ PTSD following a childhood full of trauma at the hands of Valentine.  Through his relationship with Clary, Jace learns that he is worthy of being loved, and that he can love without destroying.  And, Jace’s parabatai bond is a source of strength and joy for both Alec and Jace.  Show Jace gets none of this.  3B kept Clary and Jace apart from each other much of the time (what w/ Evil Clary preferring to help her murderous brother burn down the world).  3B also effectively eliminated the parabatai bond:  Alec is entirely focused on his relationship with Magnus, and he is impatient with a clearly suicidal Jace.  You can count on one hand the number of minutes that Alec and Jace are on screen together in 3B.  

- Book Jace becomes (with Clary) head of the NY institute, having rejected and fought against bigoted members of the cohort.  I appreciate that this likely could not be shown b/c the show does not have the rights to TDA, but this does not explain why the show made Jace so incompetent as head of the NY institute.  Show Jace gets the job only because of nepotism (Herondale blood).  Show Jace is on board with the downworlder registry.  Show Jace is so incompetent that he abdicates in favor of  Alec after about a day.  None of this made any sense.

- Book Jace is all-in w/ Clary from the beginning.  He has one encounter w. Aline, but that’s presented as being as much about Aline’s confirmation of her sexual identity as it is about Jace in turmoil.  (I know some people object to CC’s writing of Aline, but again, it’s her story.)   But even if the showrunners felt that the Jace/Aline hook-up was “problematic” -- and I get that some fans feel that way -- why did the show choose to do some weird male version of slut-shaming of Jace? There is the Jace encounter with Maia.  (To be clear, this was shitty to the Maia character, too.  She hooks up with a drunk rebounding Jace, whom she had just tried to kill. behind a bar.)  And, the comments about Jace, Kaelie and book club. Everyone keeps talking on the show about how Jace sleeps around, and they judge him for it, when, in reality, Jace is pretty darn faithful to his relationship with Clary from the moment they meet.  Simon, Clary, Alec, Magnus, and Izzy all have more sexual encounters (and in the case of Simon and Izzy, more partners) vs. show Jace.  And no one calls Simon or Clary slutty.  No one decides that Alec is unworthy b/c he lies to Magnus.  And no one decides Magnus is unworthy or slutty or not devoted to Alec because he’s had many sexual partners in the past.

- As noted elsewhere, the show isolated and shamed a clearly depressed and suicidal Jace in 3B.  He’s shown devastated and alone in 3B when he thinks Clary is dead in the “Lost Without You” montage:  Alec (his parabatai) and Magnus are busy comforting each other;  Maia is comforting Simon; Mayrse is nowhere to be found.  Same thing after Jace almost gets himself killed on the mission involving the Seelie:  Alec yells at him and tells him to suck it up; Mayrse once again is absent; and only Izzy checks in.  Then, in the flash forward, Alec, Magnus, Izzy, Luke, Mayrse, and Maia all seem entirely unconcerned with Jace’s state of mind.  Once again, he’s told to suck it up and move on.

4.  Female characters/ sexuality generally on the show:  So much could be written about the show’s treatment of its female characters generally.  Book Izzy is strong and fierce, and yes, body and sex positive.  Show Izzy is all over the map.  S1 captures Izzy’s sass, but she’s treated like slutty eye candy sometimes.  S2 and S3 Izzy has more depth, but less sass.  Tell me again why she had to be a drug addict?  Or, why she gets disarmed by Clary (who had a couple of months of training at that point in show time) in the finale?  Or why she alone (vs. Mayre or Alec) is sent to check on a clearly suicidal Jace?  To be clear, I loved the Jace/ Izzy bond, but why does the show let Alec and Mayrse off the hook w/ regard to Jace’s mental health, and leave Izzy w/ caretaking duties?   And Mayrse, who seems to exist in season 3 solely for the purpose of being punished — and then being redeemed — for her S1 homophobia. She becomes “captain of the Malec ship” after being deruned, and then is shown caring for Alec when Magnus is in Edom, and nurturing the Malec relationship. But, she vacations in Brazil in the finale with zero regard for her grief-stricken, suicidal adoptive son? And then there is Maia. Why does she hook up with Jace against a wall behind a bar? And what’s with the forgiving her abuser storyline?  And Clary.  Believe me, nothing made me happier than the show’s decision to make reasonably short work of the incest story line.  But to have Clary literally jump into bed with Simon, her bff?  Immediately after learning --falsely, as it turns out -- that Jace was her sibling?  Was that Clary’s first sexual encounter?  Was is not weird to suddenly start sleeping with your friend (who you turned into the vampire, and who can walk in the daylight b/c he drank your ex-boyfriend/ now you think your sibling’s  blood)?  I know the books present Jace, Clary and Simon as a love triangle — YA, after all — but book Clary wrestles w/ her feelings for Simon. I get that aging them up on the show — which I liked — would have changed the dynamic around these relationships and the characters’ sex lives, but the handling of the Climon story line was so clumsy. And, in any event, why is S2 Clary snarky about Jace’s sexual past (the book club comments)?  And in 3B, why does dark Clary manipulate — or worse — a basically roofied Jace at the club?

5. The Memory Wipe:  OH.MY.GOD.  I CANNOT EVEN CONVEY THE DEPTHS OF MY DISLIKE FOR THIS TROPE OF A PLOT POINT.  In the book, Simon volunteers to give Asmodeus his memories, thus saving Magnus (and everyone else).  Once again, this makes narrative sense -- Simon never wanted to be a vampire, and he (unlike Magnus) could survive the loss of his memories, and even return to mundane life.  And, after Simon gives up his memories, his friends NEVER give up on him.  Clary, Izzy, and the others watch him, they reach out to him, and eventually, with Magnus’s help, they reconnect with him.   Magnus even says that stealing Simon’s memories was a little bit “fascist.”

Show Clary has it much, much worse.   Let’s remember how it played out in the finale:  

- Jonathan goes on a murderous rampage.  Clary saves the world using her rune power, killing her last living relative, knowing she would be stripped of the Sight and her memories.  

- Notwithstanding Jonathan’s mass slaughter and Clary’s sacrifice, the MOST IMPORTANT THING is that Magnus and Alec have decided to get married at the institute the very next day, after dating for about three months on-and-off in show time.  

- And so we have much of the finale devoted to the wedding.  We see everyone smiling and happy (despite the slaughter of shadowhunters around the world the day before and Jonathan’s death at Clary’s hands).  We see Clary in a very revealing dress sobbing as she dances with her boyfriend and her runes are obviously disappearing -- but no one notices. We see Jace letting a sobbing Clary walk out the door.

- And then we see Clary alone, sobbing on the street in a revealing party dress, in the cold, with no memories, no I.D., no best friend, no love of her life, no money, no home (burned down in season 1), no mother (killed by Alec), no father figure. Nothing.  I get that sacrifice is a shadowhunter virtue, but the trope of a memory wipe (I see you, Chuck) is SO far from canon, and so inconsistent with how Clare wrapped up the Clary (and Jace stories).  Zero emotional logic.

- Then, to make matters worse, we jump ahead one year, and no one gives a shit about Clary or Jace or their sacrifice at all.  Alec and Magnus are living their best life mixing cocktails in Alicante (leaving Alec’s clearly devastated and suicidal parabatai to just figure things out, I guess).  Maryse (Jace’s adoptive mother) and Luke (Clary’s father figure) are vacationing in Brazil, seemingly more concerned about the humidity than they are about Clary or Jace; Izzy and Simon are loving life together at the NY institute (so much for Clary and Izzy as parabatai, or Simon and Clary’s friendship); and Simon tells a grieving, suicidal Jace -- the same Jace who almost killed himself a couple of weeks prior in show time -- to stop checking on Clary and to move on.  Apparently, Simon thought that Maia’s naming a salad after Clary was enough.   So much for Jace’s mental health.  So much for Clary and Simon’s friendship (and in the books, their eventual parabatai bond). 

- But, we we did get closure for the lizard/ Lorenzo; Underhill’s first name; and an update on Raphael.  All of these developments were apparently more important than honoring Clary’s narrative arc, her chosen identify as a shadowhunter, her relationship with Jace, and her chosen family.  

None of it made any sense.

1. Why would the angels strip Clary of the Sight when she used her rune power to SAVE THE DAMN WORLD?  After all, let’s see who gets to keep the Sight/ memories in the showrunners’ telling:  Valentine (insane, imprisoned an angel, killed downworlders and shadowhunters ); Jonathan (murderous, insane); Alec (killed Clary’s mother while possessed); Izzy (also possessed); Jace (killed his grandmother and mundanes while possessed, threw Clary off a roof, almost killed Alec); Jocelyn (almost killed Jace, circle member); Aldertree (despite getting Izzy addicted to drugs and torturing downworlders).  The list goes on.  But Clary’s invention of runes to stop her insane brother from destroying the world incurs the wrath of the angels? 

2.  The showrunners would have us believe that Clary lost the Sight (and her memories) because the angels were spiteful.  How does this fit with Cassie Clare’s conception of angels AT ALL?  They are completely unconcerned with human emotions in the books. And, why would only Clary suffer this fate when, as noted above, there are shadowhunters who did terrible things for entirely selfish or otherwise awful reasons? 

3.  In what world would Jace not notice his girlfriend’s runes disappearing?  In what world would he ever let his sobbing, de-runed girlfriend -- whom he just got back from the twinning rune/possession/killing her last living relative -- walk out the door alone?

4. For a show so concerned about representation, what about Jace’s story as a survivor of childhood abuse and trauma?  What about Jace’s near suicide earlier in 3B?  Why does everyone in Jace’s life (specifically Alec after the Seelie mission and Simon in the finale) tell Jace to suck it up and move on when he is clearly depressed and suicidal?  What about the show’s depiction of the relationship between Jace and his adoptive family? What message does the finale send about who was — and was not — a member of the Lightwood family when Mayrse and Alec either ignore Jace or yell at him when he is grieving and suicidal? So much for family. And, what about Clary’s mental health, after the showrunners stripped her of her friends, family, chosen family, memories, identity, home, and love?  

And then, after all of this, the showrunners made things worse by talking up how important the wedding was for them, even as they made it clear they didn’t care about the resolution of the Clary, Jace and Clace story lines.

- The show runners misidentified the supposedly spiteful angel who I guess would have been the big bad in Season 4 in press coverage of the finale.

- They said they didn’t know where the Clary, Jace and Clace story was heading, and that “fan fiction” would figure it out.

- They talked about how difficult and important the seating chart was for the wedding, and about how they had tried to get every character, no matter how minor, back for the “reception” scene.  And they spent precious time in the finale showing us party scenes involving ancillary non-canon characters (Underhill, Lorenzo) vs. coming up with a coherent resolution to the protagonist’s story.

- They engaged only with Malec content on social media, and talked endlessly how the show was a “love letter” to fans, and ignored less favorable fan reaction involving the Clary and Jace characters.

- Same drill for the writers, BTW.  A young female writer for the show (who supposedly was the book stan in the writers’ room) has been on social media explaining how great it was Clary’s story line came “full circle” in finale.  She’s now heading to a con with the show runners, having studiously ignored questions about the show’s treatment of Clary and Jace. (I get why she would do this — work, and all — but still.)

- To the extent the showrunners, producers, and writers have addressed Clary and Jace at all in press coverage of the finale, they have argued that the memory wipe was no harm/no foul b/c the final scene suggests that love conquers all.  First, we knew that -- we are talking about a pulpy YA novel, after all.  Second, if the last scene sends the message that love conquers all, it’s because Kat M. and Dom S., the performers, imbued that scene with more depth and emotion than the writing deserved.  Finally, the love conquers narrative ignores the fact that Clary and Jace earned their character arcs as INDIVIDUALS, not just as half of a ship.  Clary deserved her identity, her chosen family, and her love.  Jace deserved his hard-won happiness with himself, and in his relationship with Clary (and in his relationships with Alec and Izzy).  I personally didn’t want a wedding -- I don’t think anyone should get married after a few months of mostly unsuccessful dating.  I did, however, want to see these characters enjoying their hard-won happiness vs. a dystopian future for two characters only, w/ a rom com meet cute tacked on at the end.

Fundamentally, the showrunners made SHTV into a fan service-, ship war- driven series of plotpoints in 3B and the finale.  There are lots of potential reasons for this:  Maybe they preferred the Malec storyline, and thought that playing to Malec fans might help the show get picked up (or maybe get a Malec spinoff approved); maybe they thought that punishing Jace and sidelining Clary might please some segments of the SHTV fandom; maybe they bought into the idea that the books are “problematic” and need to be fixed, or that dislike of certain performers justifies trashing the character.  Whatever.  The end result is the same:  For me, they lost the narrative thread of the characters, and the emotional logic of the stories.  They fed into a stupid ship war and a stupid book vs. show war.  And, they played into scarcity, as if honoring Malec required tearing down Clace.  

At the end of the day, the show runners’ decision to wipe Clary’s memory broke the show for me.  No matter how much I love Malec, and no matter how amazing the last scene was (and how lovely the performances were in that scene), I will always believe that Clary and Jace deserved better.

And so I want to say to the showrunners and writers:  NEXT TIME, LET YOUR PROTAGONIST HAVE HER STORY.  SHE EARNED IT.  (And FFS be tiny bit humble when there is source material :-).  

[crimsonblackrose]

I’m officially reunited with about 90% of my things. It’s weird. Very very weird but I feel like there’s some stable ground beneath my feet. It just feels nice to not be living out of a suitcase that’s mostly business professional clothing and be reunited with comfy college t-shirts. I’ve gone through all of my stuff, mostly organized it, and set up a bookcase. As a lifelong bookworm and someone who went to college for writing, I have a lot of books. And I haven’t read all of those books. So I decided books I haven’t read or don’t remember reading will go on the bookcase. The rest will stay in their boxes.

My plan when I was expecting to come home pre-pandemic was to frequent the library but try and focus on the books I haven’t read yet that I own. I figured if there were things I desperately wanted to read that I couldn’t get at the library I’d get it for my e-reader or maybe at the store after getting a job. But then the pandemic happened and our library has only recently opened so e-reader and my TBR bookcase should get me through for a while. (Plus I can always grab something off of my aunt or uncle’s bookshelves if I need to branch out. They’ve already given me recommendations.)

The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri by Dante Alighieri. This book is too big to fit on the shelves so it’s chilling at the top with my Korean Count of Monte Cristo musical book. This is one of my Dad’s books that he gave me when he moved. I’m sure I missed more that are in a box in the basement. I organized but I have lot of books so I know I missed things.f

So buckle up here’s all the books on my bookcase in no particular order. Shelf #!.

The Earthsea Trilogy by Ursula K. Le Guin Ursula K. Le Guin is a staple author for fantasy and I thought for sure I’d read this but I wasn’t 100% sure so I grabbed it anyway.

Monsterkind by Taylor C. I kickstarted this a long time ago and it’s one of the things in my boxes that I didn’t realize I had because I’m pretty sure it arrived while I was in Korea. I’ve sadly missed the cut off for book two but am pretty excited to jump into this.

This Dark Endeavor by Kenneth Oppel. I don’t know when or where I got it but looking at the tag line I can see why I found it intriguing “The Apprenticeship of Victor Frankenstein” sounds fun.

And Another thing… Douglas Adams Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Part six of Three by Eoin Colfer. Fun fact when I was in elementary through high school I read everything Eoin Colfer I could get my hands on and I loved The Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy and everything I’ve read by Douglas Adams so this was a no brainer. Though I haven’t read it because I guess I don’t know what it is.Aa sequel? A prequel? Something in between? No idea, it’ll be a fun adventure.

What You Don’t Know About Men by Michael Burke. This is one of those books where I’m just staring at it wondering where it came from and why I have it.  It is signed and after deep diving my own Instagram it’s a book from college. But whether I met the author at an event, something I was volunteering for or at school is beyond me.

Gramarye City by Paul Revere Lester. This is another signed book, but I’m pretty sure it’s self published since there was nothing about it on Goodreads. Could be wrong. But this one I don’t know if it’s from high school writer’s club or what since it, like the last one references my own writing and cheers me on in the note with the signing.

Fiery Dark Secret by Emma Bown Meyer this one is also signed but doesn’t reference my own writing or any sort of cheering me on so who knows. I’m going to assume this is from a library event where the authors came and signed their books from when I was in high school.

Hush Girls by Emily Hansen. Another signed book. You could guess that I don’t read books I get signed but in this case this came out this year and it’s one of the few books I’ve recently purchased. Emily Hansen was one of my cohorts and I try my best to support my cohorts.

Lost in the City by Edward P. Jones, did I get this book because it was recommended reading in college or because it looks cool or was it gifted to me? No clue.

Zombies vs Unicorns. This is a collection of short stories about Zombies versus Unicorns. So each author picked a team and wrote a story to try and grab the reader to their side and some of my favorite authors are in this collection and it’s just super cool looking so I’m greatly looking forward to reading it.

Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris, oh this book hasn’t been read out of pure spite. My department in college had this thing where we had to go and attend “literary” events and then write about them as part of our grade. The problem being there were plenty of literary events for people over the age of 21. So many readings and events that our teachers recommended did not work for those of us under the age of 21 who weren’t allowed in the bars. For one of these my friend said that a famous author had an event at Borders (RIP) on the other end of the city from where we lived. So a small group of us went all the way out to that Borders realized we weren’t early enough to sit in on the discussion which was then sold out and our best and final bet was to get a number for the book signing. So we did that and got dinner nearby. My friends had books but I had nothing to get signed. This book was one of the few ones out and on sale so I bought it and then spent the many hours left waiting in that line reading manga.

Here’s the thing. Kudos to David Sedaris’s work ethic. He’s one of those authors who will stay until everyone in line goes through as long as the place is willing to stay open. Which is super cool. But for me, a college kid who was utterly exhausted and had never even heard of the author before, showed up at 3am after waiting in line for ages to learn Mr. Sedaris either requests a joke or gives you a joke when he meets you. I really really just wanted to get the book signed so I could go back to my dorm and sleep and then write up my journal entry for class. I wasn’t in the mood for jokes. And my humor isn’t really okay with cancer jokes at any time let alone 3am. So I haven’t read this book. It’s been on my shelves for ages, moved from dorm room to dorm room to boxes and forgotten. But it’s signed. And even though I’m still very bitter I’m willing to give it a shot. But I don’t have high hopes.

Listen to the Echos, The Ray Bradbury Interviews by Sam Weller, to continue with the books I’m bitter about and have been putting off reading. This book is also signed and the signing is the part that I’m a little bitter about. Again backstory time. So there’s two things you should know. One is that my school would host some pretty cool events from time to time with dinners and what not with authors or other people in the arts and one of my best college friends and her family went to this school fancy dinner at, I believe, the school’s President’s home and they very sweetly got me this book. What kills me on the inside is the signing.

Lauren!

A gift from the —– family!

Live Forever!

Sam Weller

Now you might be like well it is a gift, right? True. But the kicker. The painful kicker was that Sam Weller was my teacher. I was in his Ray Bradbury class at the time this was signed. I spent an entire semester learning about what made Ray Bradbury who he was and how his short stories and works created a ripple effect that gave us so many beloved movies, stories and idioms we have today. I loved that class. I planned to get this book myself and get it signed because I enjoyed it and the teacher so much. And this is the equivalent of getting “Have a great summer” in your yearbook. Now to be real, he probably didn’t put two and two together and at some point, I could’ve tried to get it re-signed but I didn’t. I should’ve, I wish I did. Because I remember laughing about it and taking the book to class but I chickened out. I think, in all honesty, it has to do with teachers who make huge impacts on you and then forgetting who you are when you’re not in class with them. My college departmental advisor just completely forgot who I was when I went to visit after graduating. I get it. I do, but it sure does sting.

Breverton’s Nautical Curiosities by Terry Breverton which is a delightful book about nautical things, another passion of mine from growing up. I’ve never sat down and read it but I’ve flipped through it many a time.

Feeding Hannibal a Connoisseur’s Cookbook by Janice Poon. I loved this TV show and I’m forever in awe of Janice Poon and how she made the food look appetizing but also vaguely human (gross, very gross) while also edible for the cast. I bought this in Korea at the Seoul Comic Con and brought it home.

Healing Herbal Teas: A Complete Guid to Making Delicious, Healthful Beverages by Brigitte Mars, A.H.G. I don’t know if you know this but I love tea. I’m warming up to coffee in the same way I am to booze, as long as I don’t taste it we’re good. But with tea I’m obsessed. This was a gift. I haven’t set about reading it but I am curious about it.

Onto shelf #2

East of Eden by John Steinbeck. I’m not sure if other majors have this but my department while I was there was pretty obsessed with this book. Not teacher’s necessarily but my cohorts talked about it a lot and said they loved it or talked about how it shaped them. So I bought it. Don’t know why since one of the go-to books that drew a lot of students to our school and department because the teacher worked there  creeped me out but hey, willing to give this massive book a try.

The Revenge of the Shadow King by Derek Benz and J.S. Lewis. This is a book that’s been on my shelf a long time. Probably since around when it came out in 2005 that I just kept putting off reading even though I knew I wanted to read it. I’m a sucker for fantasy novels with fey or even a twisty dark vibe to them.

Eyes Like Stars by Lisa Mantchev. I’m going to be honest, bought this book because of the cover. It was a pretty art style with faeries of some kind.

The Magicina of Hoad by Margaret Mahy, for a paperback this book is super shiny. Not sure if that’s why I got it or because anything genre tended to grab my attention in high school.

Timeline by Michael Crichton. In my first year of college, my group of friends and I had a secret Santa and the person who had me didn’t have a clue what to get me except books. So he decided to do one of my favorite things ever which was to get me some books that were his favorites. This is one of them that I hadn’t gotten around to reading yet.

Procession of the Dead by Darren Shan. I’ve been saving this one. I spent most of high school and college devouring any nightmarish adventure Darren Shan concocted. The Thin Executioner is still one of my favorites despite being so ghastly. This one though I remember spotting at the store and going “how dare no one tell me he’d come out with a new book?” And grabbing it. However after living overseas so long I’m sure I’m behind on a lot of books and authors I used to keep up to date on before.

The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel: The Sorceress, The Necromancer and the Magician by Michael Scott. You may remember I’ve read the first in this series and did not enjoy it. But I heard from some other readers that the series gets better and since I have these three books as hard backs which aren’t cheap I’m determined to read them and give them a shot before…probably donating them.

Lost in Space by Ben Tanser. My college hosted a literary event every year while I was there called Story Week. They invited authors and publishers and agents to celebrate books and share what they knew and it was free. As a person who volunteered for it several times it means I’m not sure if I bought all the books I own or if I just got some of the books and this is one of them. I know the publisher was big with our school, our teachers and faculty loved Curbside Splendor, but again I don’t know. This isn’t signed so I think it’s a case of I got it to better understand the publisher and then didn’t get around to reading it because I had big paper’s due like every other day and required reading as well as job and club responsibilities. How I got any fun reading done is beyond me.

The Old Neighborhood by Bill Hillmann is one that I’m kind of embarrassed I didn’t read before now. It’s signed and the author came to class to talk to us about his work because he was good friends with our teacher. He seemed pretty cool and still does. He usually does the Running of the Bulls in Spain and actually got pretty injured one year and made international news.

Where’d you go, Bernadette by Maria Semple. I got this book for free as part of “World Book Night U.S. April 23, 2014” which is pretty cool but I did not read it when I think I was supposed to. Nearly over 6 years late on that one. Sorry World Book Night.

The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand. I don’t know about this one. Did I get it because movies were being adapted of Ayn Rand’s work? Did I get it because people were talking about it? Did I get it just out of curiosity because her work is so polarising and pretty much as hated as Twilight and 50 Shades of Grey were within my cohort? Was it on a list of books to read? Not a clue. I’ve read Atlas Shrugged since and looking at the size of this book it’s going to be a long journey of tiny print.

The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett. My local public library when I was growing up would participate in a book event where they’d pick a book and then everyone could sign up for that book and they’d host events related to it. Like a big massive book club. Chicago did it too with Neverwhere and many others. I signed up, got the book and then…didn’t read it.

The Princess and the Pirates: The Timelight Stone by Mio Chizuru. This book is a library book. A high school library book that they stamped with rejected and removed all the stuff on it. I assume I got this from a book sale of our library getting rid of books or the librarian just told me she was getting rid of books and since I was working there during my free periods repairing books. The bonus I guess of being a constant presence. It looks like manga but it’s actually a novel, so it’ll be interesting.

Emerald Death by Bill Craig I’m not 100% certain but I’m pretty sure this was from my childhood public library again. It’s signed and I think it was from one of the author events.

The Best of Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet this is like Lost in Space. I bought this so I could better understand the publication because my genre teachers were full of praise for Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet and honestly loved the style. But got too busy to read it. I’m sure I have another collection or two for a different publisher in my boxes somewhere but that can wait. I’ve never really been one to read anthologies or collections of short stories so these types of books usually fall a bit on my TBR list. But I should read them.

Push and The Kid by Sapphire. Both of these are signed and were from a literary event while I was in college through the Harold Washington Library. I think I attended an interview at the library where she discussed her work. From what I remember I know these books aren’t going to be the happiest so I am pretty sure that’s why I’ve set them aside.

The final shelf time.

The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer.  I borrowed this book in high school from my dad because we were supposed to read it in English and then…never did. I don’t know why. We probably we got too busy in the other books we were supposed to read that we also never finished. Like Julius Ceaser by Shakespeare that we just stopped reading after he died. So, thank you, Dad, for letting me keep it along with all the others.

The Three Theban Plays by Sophocles, this book is pretty beaten up but I always grab classics even if 70% of the time I hate them. This was probably for a class, quite possibly the most frustrating class I ever took, or I found it cheap somewhere.

Les Miserables by Victor Hugo I picked this up in Paris. Pretty sure I read some copy of this in high school in French and I’ve seen the musical in Korean and the movie version as well as the old film of the musical my French teacher had…but we’ll see how I remember it as I go with the translated English.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. I also got this in Paris. I’ve never read it but after learning about how it single handedly saved Notre Dame I feel like I have to.

Redwall: The Rogue Crew by Brian Jacques. This is the last book Brain Jacques wrote that was published posthumously. I loved Redwall so much and I’m pretty sure I’ve read almost every novel Brian Jacques wrote. When he died I was heartbroken and I got the book but just couldn’t bring myself to read it.

Artemis Fowl the Atlantis Complex by Eoin Colfer, I loved the Artemis Fowl series when I was younger and I really want to jump into this book which is book 7 in the series but I think I’m going to have to go back through my boxes and find the rest of them before reading book seven. It’s been waaaayyyy too long.

The Faeman Quest by Herbie Brennan is another series I absolutely adored when I was younger. Again it’s another where it’s been so long I’ll probably have to re-read the previous books in The Faerie Wars Chronicles to fully understand what’s going on here.

The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman. Up to this point I was fairly good at reading all of Neil Gaiman’s works. And attending any event he had in Chicago. This one I remember going to with a bunch of friends at the Music Box theater and then staying up late with them to get it signed. It was a fun event but I was saving it to read later since it’s a small book.

Silas Marner by George Eliot not sure where this one came from but I haven’t read it so here it is. I recognize the title though but don’t know why.

A Confusion of Princes by Garth Nix. I love books by Garth Nix he’s one of those authors in Zombies vs Unicorns but I haven’t gotten around to reading this one or even finishing the series of his I started and loved when I was younger. (I don’t like things to end)

Swords of Riverside by Ellen Kushner. This has harlequin romance vibes from the cover but also older fantasy/historical novel vibes. Don’t know where I got it or why but it’ll be interesting for sure. Very curious to see which it falls into or if just the long hair blown back by invisible wind on the male character was just for fun.

Leviathan by Scott Westerfeld, middle school/high school me might not have jumped on the Uglies train whenever one else did but I apparently went ahead and got this book by the author. (Fun fact he’s also in Zombies vs Unicorns). I assume I grabbed it because of the familiar author name and the steampunk vibe of the cover.

Seven Sorcerers by Caro King has a spooky-looking cover with magic vibes, my go to when I was younger.

Changeling by Delia Sherman, when I tell you any sort of fantasy fey adventure or magic novel usually ended up on my shelf just because it fell into that category I’m not joking. This cover is kinda creepy and weird but I can see why I got it because of the title. Oh boy.

These are the books that I plan to read for the most part of the rest of this year. Mixing in e-books and maybe some old ones. There are more books on my bookcase but those are reference or books I’ve read but didn’t remember until I started making this list and realized I had. I also have several books that I didn’t realize were book 6 of a series where I haven’t read or own book one through five. So that’s going to require being set aside until I can check books out from the library. (I’m putting it off because I’m trying to figure out how to renew my library card that’s been inactive for over 5 years during a pandemic)

Anyway wish me luck.

What are some books you’ve had on your shelf for a long time and haven’t gotten rid of but also haven’t read yet?

TBR Bookcase tour I'm officially reunited with about 90% of my things. It's weird. Very very weird but I feel like there's some stable ground beneath my feet.

[waltrp]

I WISH MY COHORTS WEREN’T SO DUMB

BIDDI BOPPI BOOP A SPECIAL MESSAGE ADMIN ZULEMA: welcome to walt Ash !  The Teague siblings are characters that I hold near and dear to my heart. They’ve always been my favorites of the nightmare gang since we opened. You captured Sadie beautifully in your app. You understand her well and I have complete faith that you’ll transform her into something magical. I’m ready for PAIN. Also, I love your passion for the nightmare before christmas. It’s one of my favorite movies as well so I know you’re going to kickass as Sadie Teague. You have 24 hours to send in your account. Please refer to THIS PAGE for your next tasks. We can’t wait to roleplay with you. Welcome to our Ohana xx.

It’s a pleasure to meet you…

Hi darlings, I am Ash, 22, GMT \ She/Her.

Not entirely random but.. I have a TNBC tattoo on my arm, I have seen TNBC live in concert with Danny Elfman, Catherine O’Hara and Ken Page and I think I love my cats more than most humans.

Triggers; Not really triggered by per say but not comfortable writing sexual assault.

Are you positive you can be active?

I can be very active in my evening time on weekdays and all day on my days off, weekends not so much as its the only time I see my partner and friends. On a scale i’m about a 7/10 but at the moment im on covid-19 lockdown so I am very much available to write for the next two weeks at least.

How did you stumble upon Walt?

Through the Zane Holtz tumblr tag!

Did you read the rules?

Yes indeedy!

Are you sure?

~

Character you want?

Sadie Teage

Please describe the character for us

I would describe Sadie as the Star tarot card flipped upside down. A girl with so much potential and love and trust in her heart that was cruelly ripped from her by the real world leaving her distrustful, angry and prone to self sabotaging for her own protection . A girl who could have been a kind reflection of her mother or as brilliant as her brother Logan but who had her self confidence poisoned by her malicious father and his evil ways. A girl with a guarded heart and no faith in humanity, a scorpion in a world of frogs. A girl who deep down is still suffering silently, wanting for a better life but never being able to see past the next rent due day. A girl who constantly counts her pennies to keep food on the table for Beckham, who never once lets herself live because she is too afraid of what would happen if she did

Second character choice

No secondary character interest at this time.

It’s time to see that sample para.

Sadie’s dry and cracked lips rested against the battered, old chipped mug that held a substantial amount of bitter black coffee, the heat from the liquid rose up danced against her sharp chin as she shivered all over. The apartment felt as cold as Dante’s Inferno and as her bony fingers decorated with thick rings clutched onto the mug for dear life her gaze drifted towards the open door of Beckham’s room. Sadie exhaled shakily, allowing herself the time to collect her thoughts before her younger brother returned home. Against the plug on the kitchen wall and attached to a charger falling to pieces her phone began to vibrate itself to the edge of the counter. Sadie caught it with one hand just as it began to dangle and frowned at her landlords name across the screen. Locking her phone she placed it back down on the cool counter and rolled her eyes at the charger that had given up. “Piece of crap.” she muttered walking away to the kitchen table where a small notebook containing numbers rested. Setting down her steaming mug of will to live, Sadie propped her hair out of her face and took a seat alone at the table.

Budgeting; something Sadie was not the best it but something that was a necessity to how she survived from week to week. Her income stretched as thinly as she could possibly make it to have her ends met, the empty cupboards mocked her as she scribbled down a grocery list of baked beans, rice, coffee, bread, eggs, milk and porridge. Her gaze once again shifted to Beckham’s room as the temptation to borrow a few dollars built up inside her but almost as quick as it appeared Sadie ushered it out of her brain feeling sick. “New low point Sadie.. new low point” she sighed. Sadie was all too used to ‘borrowing’ from people, a five finger discount at stores, a free sample enthusiast but taking something from her family was a level she couldn’t bare to bring herself down to. Drumming her fingers against the table Sadie pondered on whether or not to contact Logan about her financial situation, ask Beckham contribute more and buy his own damn sugar if he wanted it that badly but she sadly shut down the thoughts feeling guilty. Even know she still wanted to protect them in her own way, not letting them know how bad things were getting would save them in the long run or at least that what she told herself.

Sitting back against the old wooden chair with a wobbly leg Sadie reached for her mug and swallowed a hot gulp of coffee, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste, maybe Beckham was onto something about his sugar. “Fuck– what am I supposed to do..” she whispered to the empty kitchen. Rent was due, the heating was broken, the cupboards were empty and her phone was about to call it a day. Everything was crumbling down around her, the fresh start she swore to herself would be different was now looking more like a hopeful dream she used to have a child. Sadie felt foolish, how did she let herself think she could be anything other than a pitiful, useless child. Tears stung in the back of her eyes as she tried to push back the overwhelming memories of her Father’s violence and heartbreaking words. Sadie knew from a young age she wouldn’t amount to much, that was Logan, she would always just be trailing behind on his coat tails keeping the electricity running. Hot tears ran down her face as Sadie began to imagine her life turning out like her mother’s, no escape from poverty, no happiness, just three rotten children and a house falling down around her.

Quickly Sadie rose to her feet pushing back the chair, she wiped away her tears with the sleeve of her shirt and wiped her nose after. She began to make her way across the kitchen breathing deeply to contain the emotions. Crying wouldn’t solve anything, but getting shit done would. Sadie unplugged her dead and gone charger from the wall and picked up her phone before walking back to the table. She grabbed her jacket off the chair back and her note pad from the table, stuffing it into her pockets. Walking towards the apartment door she fumbled for her key and began to type up a message.

[MSG; ORION]:: hey. you around? feel like causing some chaos.

Anything else, love?

I haven’t rp’d in like two years so this is me kind of coming back to the scene. Very rusty but if I am successful in joining your lovely group I hope to get back to speed and relearn everything all over again.

Also i am kind of obsessed with TNBC so I apologize in advance!

[flourchildwrites]

Witch, Please!  Fictober 2019  (17/31)

A multi-fandom Fictober prompt compilation.  Your wish is my command, but be careful what you ask for.  You just might get it.

Prompt:  “Darkness” from Writetober 2019 Prompt List

Fandom:  Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Relationship/Pairing:  Class 1-A, subtle Todoroki Shouto/Yaoyorozu Momo

Genre:  Songfic (sorta)

Rating:  Teen And Up Audiences

Word Count:  1,345 words

Read on AO3

Few modern words struck terror into the hearts of men as forcefully as the sound of two repeated piano chords, alternating between high and low with melodic precision. As the sound traveled the corridors of U.A.’s dormitory courtesy of an open window, Tenya Iida set aside his protein drink. Izuku Midoriya’s scarred hand stilled. Even Katsuki Bakugo, as explosive and unbalanced as ever, held his breath, waiting in denial for the absence of the damning, telltale lyrics.

“WHY’RE MEN GREAT ‘TIL THEY GOTTA BE GREAT? WO!”

The groan that filled the common room expressed the collective sentiment perfectly. Admittedly, the girls and Yuga Aoyama had been noticeably absent for over half an hour. It didn’t take Midoriya’s strategic mind to realize that there was a connection. Another fight or break up has occurred amongst the girls of class 1-A.

“I JUST TOOK A DNA TEST, TURNS OUT I’M 100% THAT BITCH EVEN WHEN I’M CRYING CRAZY YEAH, I GOT BOY PROBLEMS, THAT’S THE HUMAN IN ME BLING BLING, THEN I SOLVE ‘EM THAT’S THE GODDESS IN ME!”

“Aw, man,” Hanta Sero sighed. “Which one of them got hurt this time?”

“Does it matter?” Shouto Todoroki chimed in, snapping his book closed. It was useless to return to homework at this point. As much as the boys liked to complain, broken hearts would be the topic of conversation for the evening. Their motivation equal parts curiosity and protectiveness.

Some expressed their concern better than others.

“WHAT DID YOU DO THIS TIME, KAMINARI?” Bakugo’s voice was simultaneously gruff and shrill, nearly overpowering the all-female chorus now screaming something over a slick beat.

The jagged-haired blond drew his hands to his chest protectively as his classmates turned to stare daggers at him. “Nothing,” he said, “I swear. Kyoka and I are fine. Still together... I think.”

Apparently unsure about that last sentiment, he whipped his cell phone out and began texting furiously.

Iida, their painfully single class representative, piped up. “What about you, Midoria? Any problems with Uraraka?”

Deku balked, mumbling under his breath as he recounted every interaction with his girlfriend over the past few days. A beat of relative silence settled as the next damning lyrics rang out.

“YOU COULDA HAD A BAD BITCH, NON-COMMITTAL HELP YOU WITH YOUR CAREER JUST A LITTLE YOU’RE ‘POSED TO HOLD ME DOWN, BUT YOU’RE HOLDING ME BACK AND THAT’S THE SOUND OF ME NOT CALLING YOU BACK”

A scoff sounded from the corner of the room, and the boys turned to find Minoru Mineta wearing a knowing smirk.

“It’s not Jiro or Uraraka,” Mineta announced. The sly glint in his wandering eyes said he knew something the rest of cohorts didn’t. “Or Ashido or Hagakure for that matter. It’s coming from the fifth floor.”

“WHAT’D YOU KNOW ABOUT IT, GRAPE HEAD?”

Just then, Kaminari’s phone sounded. He picked it up and keyed in the passcode code with shaky fingers, initially relieved but then troubled by the information his newest text contained.

“Hey guys,” he said, “it’s Yaoyorozu. She was talking to some guy on the internet and just found out he’s been playing her the whole time.”

Shouto’s ears perked up. A strange feeling burned in his chest that had nothing to do with his quirk. For once, it (probably) wasn’t one of their own who had messed up, but a nameless outsider who had dared to upset the status quo. With their class’s vice representative no less. Some action had to be taken to let her know they were right there with her.

Just not actually there. Not listening to that awful music.

“We should do something,” Shouto announced. The half-and-half hero stood, fists clenched by his side hand scanned the faces of his classmates who nodded in agreement. All except for Eijiro Kirishima and Bakugo.

“What the fuck are we going to do about Ponytail’s love life, Icyhot?” Bakugo barked.

And honestly, Shouto hated to admit it, but he had no idea.

...

Kyoka’s break up playlist hadn’t failed her yet and seeing as she’d only ever dated Denki, the mix had gotten a surprising amount of use. Together, the girls and Aoyama (who seemed to have a nose for drama) had done their best to brighten up Momo’s room. The friends drew back the curtains and opened the windows, letting fresh air and sunlight in. The sound of Lizzo’s voice filled the courtyard, but any noise complaints were tomorrow’s problem. Right then, Kyoka’s focus was Momo’s wellbeing.

“We met in a chatroom and got to texting. I really thought he was a nice guy,” Momo recounted through a pair of red-rimmed eyes. “But then, he started saying risque things and asking for nudes, and I just… I said no. And he told me he already has a girlfriend, that I was some know-it-all sidechick who wouldn’t… you know… virtually put out.”

“Oh, Yaomomo! I’m sorry. It could’ve happened to anyone,” Mina Ashido offered.

The seemingly blank space next to Asui shifted in her U.A. themed hoodie. “Everyone needs to feel special sometimes,” Hagakure added. “I mean, yeah, we’re heroes in training, but we’re also high school girls here. No offense, Aoyama.”

“None taken,” the blond boy responded. “Everyone wants to sparkle off the battlefield, hun.”

Kyoka nodded. “You played it smart, Momo. You didn’t send him anything that could come back to haunt you as Creati. I know it doesn’t make it better, but this could have been so much worse.”

“Yeah. I just can’t believe I let someone take advantage of me like this,” Momo sniffed. “And the thing is, I almost sent him the pictures until I remembered all that stuff Midnight said in our media seminar. I guess we never really know who’s on the other side of the screen.”

As her best friend’s analysis left her lips, Kyoka looked down at her phone. The screen reflected her petite features, and within that black mirror, she saw her insecurities staring back. Even the hearing heroine’s inhibitions might have been lessened by some fleeting notion of anonymity had she been in Momo’s shoes. It really could have happened to any one of them.

“Online dating sucks,” Kyoka concluded. Momo’s overcrowded bedroom agreed in earnest.

...

The heartbreak krewe left late in the evening, and Momo tucked herself into bed alongside her friends’ reassurances that she’d handled the situation correctly. But truth be told, this part of the day was the loneliest. It was just the sort of time that she would have texted her mystery man, asking about his day or even the weather.

There was a steady knock on the door.

“Coming,” Momo grumbled as she rolled out of bed. Believing it was Aoyama or one of the girls, she didn’t bother to put on her robe. It was a decision Momo immediately regretted when her eyes met a mismatched pair or turquoise and gray.

“Todoroki!” Momo crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you need anything?”

As uncomfortable as Momo was, Todoroki appeared even more so. He thrust a pink box toward Momo, and she accepted it, greeted by a sweet aroma that practically stole her senses.

“These are from all of us,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Kaminari told us what happened, and we helped Sato bake some cookies.”

Momo peered inside the box and found no less than two dozen bite-sized chocolate chip cookies nestled within a thin layer of parchment paper. She picked one up and popped it in her mouth, grinning as the rich sweetness made her taste buds dance.

“Thank you,” she responded, “they’re still warm. Really amazing!”

“You’re welcome. I used my quirk a little. And um… Yaoyorozu,” he stumbled, “if you ever want someone to talk to, you can always text me. I know I don’t have a lot to say, but yeah… You have the number.”

The apples of Momo’s cheeks broke out in a delicious blush. She sucked a droplet of melted chocolate from her fingertip.

“I will,” she said. All thoughts of her pervy penpal were suddenly forgotten.

A/N:  It's day 17. I am overdue for something a little strange. This was inspired by the prompt, but it might be hard to see. Anyway, feel free to send me pairing requests for particular prompts (Fictober or original) via my tumblr, and if you read something you like, don't hesitate to let me know. Your kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, comments, likes and reblogs make my day!  Lyrics are from Lizzo's Truth Hurts.  I (sadly) own no part of that song or My Hero Academia.

[yaachtynoboat711]

At First Glance Ch. 4: The Commencement 👩🏽‍🎓

A/N: It’s finally here! The end of At First Glance has arrived and I have to say, I’m a bit emotional about ending my first series 😭. Thank you guys for supporting At First Glance these past few months. I have another series in development and then hopefully I’ll actually think about the wedding series. But for now, enjoy our fave couple in this series finale!

Word Count: ~3.2k

Warning(s): Black Excellence, Black Love, Smut (FINALLY!)

Saturday, December 7, 2013. 11:06 a.m.

Woolsey Hall, Yale University

At just 23, Yaa was the youngest recipient of a doctorate in African Studies. She was also a joint PhD-JD student that became the valedictorian of both classes (she earned her JD in May), which as you imagine, is almost unheard of, ESPECIALLY at a prestigious institution such as Yale.

Of all the people proud of her accomplishments, Winston was undoubtedly the happiest. She was the smartest person he’d ever met by a long shot. Not only was she smart as hell, but she was also gorgeous and had enough personality for seven people. Bonus points for Winston. As a fellow Yale grad, Winston enjoyed the return to New Haven. Amid all the celebration, Yaa and her family were meeting Winston’s mom and sister today. Whew chile, the celebrations. Winston and his family found Yaa’s family, Tanisha, Kimya, and Daveon (AKA the Yalemigos, or the Migos) all sitting in the same area.

“Mr. Duke great to see you again.”, Mustapha said hugging Winston.

“Likewise, sir! Great to be seen. Get to see my little lady graduate.”, he laughed. His laugh turned into a full smile as the reality of his girlfriend’s accomplishments set in. He looked down at the program and chuckled as Yaa’s name led the list of her 16 other cohorts. My little genius.

The fanfare startled Winston out of his thoughts. The guests looked down to watch the faculty and graduates proceed into Woolsey’s main seating. Proud friends and family cheered, hollered, and whistles as they saw their respective graduate. Winston scanned the incoming crowd for his short scholar, but to no avail. What took Winston 3 minutes took the Migos only 0.2 seconds to spot their 4th companion.

“HOODIE WHOOOOOOOO!”, the friends yelled as they spotted their best friend. Yaa’s neck snapped in the direction she heard the squad call. Can’t take niggas anywhere. She shook her head and examined the friends and family in attendance. Everyone stood up and took pictures and acknowledging their graduate. Winston saw his girlfriend and stared in amazement before he mouthed “Love you” to her. She mouthed “Love you, too” to him before taking her seat.

Yaa walked in with all confidence in her stride. She was glowing and there was nothing better that could happen today than this present moment. Her tam sat on top of her curly locs. Her round tortoise shell frames added an intellectual and sophisticated touch to her look. Her signature bright red lips seldom separated as her white smile remained plastered on her face. She bore her gold valedictorian medal below her blue hood along with her blue and gold ΣΓΡ and black Class of 2013 Kente stoles. The Black graduates wore black leather gloves on their right hands in solidarity and in reverence to their ancestors. Except for being around Winston, she’d never looked happier.

The ceremony went as any other large commencement: the speaker, the President and Provost gave words of encouragement to all the graduates on their future endeavors. Each college presented their graduates with their Yale degree. Finally, the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences conferred degrees. Ironically, the Africana and African-American Studies Department elected to go last due the small number of graduates. When the department was announced, Yaa’s family prepared to get up. They shared mutual expressions of joy and bliss as “Doctor Khalida Yaa Denae Abdullah, Magna Cum Laude.”, echoed throughout Woolsey Hall. She raised her right fist high in the air as she walked across the stage. She hugged her advisor and committee chair before receiving her degree. She walked off the stage doing a quick praise break. The least she could do.

The grads recessed out of Woolsey and immediately searched for their parties and took pictures. Yaa was in the middle of her search when she felt two sturdy taps on her shoulder. It was him. “Hey, Doc.”, he greeted. Yaa scoffed as her billion dollar smile grew from a smirk. She playfully rolled her eyes and shook her head before reaching up for a kiss. “Hey, Duke. A girl can get used to hearing ‘Doc’. ”, she hummed into his lips. He finally broke the kiss and handed her a bouquet of her favorite roses: white, yellow, and pink. She gasped at the sight. “Baby! They’re beautiful.”, she squealed. She jumped right back into his embrace. “More where that came from, Denae.”, he whispered.

He never called her Denae, nor did his voice ever get that deep whenever he talked to her. She shot him a look before kissing him once more and walking towards the Migos, who were all Snapchatting and gassing her up.

“BEST FRIEND DONE GOT A WHOLE FOURTH DEGREE, Y’ALL!”, Daveon yelled. Yaa’s shoulders shook as she laughed at her foolish ass friends.

“Yaaaaaasssss ma’am! You better be Black Excellence. C’mon, Lil’ Angela!”, Kimya called.

“Bitch, I’m just tryna see the outfit. The people deserve to see what you’re wearing.”, Tanisha bluntly stated. The other two egged Yaa on to unzip the massive black gown. The only thing everyone could see were her black velvet smoking loafers. She unzipped the gown, unveiling a black pencil skirt and a white shirt with “PheD the Hell Up” written in blue. She would always get the laugh in somewhere.

She insisted that the family take pictures at her rental house because it was still December in New Haven, Connecticut. Chatter, laughter, and faint sounds of Black Christmas music filled the house as both families meshed as one. Carrie and Momma Cora held conversation most of the afternoon; Cindy and Khadijah exchanged medical stories; and Mustapha and Rainey discussed everything under the sun with Avery, Jahlil, and Winston. All four of the Migos were upstairs taking naps to prepare for dinner. Yaa especially deserved that nap. She hadn’t a decent amount of sleep since returning from Thanksgiving in Louisiana.

“Where’s Khalida? I think it’s time we all split.”, Khadijah asked Winston.

“She’s up there with her friends taking a nap. Gal deserves it. That means we need to leave and take naps of our own before dinner tonight.”, Carrie replied. “Winston, you staying here or something?”

“Yes ma’am. I might as well join the Snooze Crew upstairs.”, he said walking towards the front door. He finally went upstairs to Yaa’s room where he was greeted to a room full of snoring. Yaa’s petite figure was curled up in the middle of the messy bed. Her locs were scattered across her silk pillows and her Breakfast at Tiffany‘s eye mask covered her eyes. Her mouth was open as she snored loudly.She was dead to the world. Winston chuckled to himself as he watched his beautiful scholar catch up on Z’s. He sat on the unoccupied side of the bed and watched her sleep. He cleared her face of her wild locs and stopped when she stirred. Eventually, she unmasked herself and gasped when she saw Winston.

“Shit! Don’t scare me like th... was I snoring? Oh fuck, how long have you been watching me?”, she asked. He shook his head before kissing her forehead.

“Yes, you were snoring. Don’t worry about that. I still love you. I’ve been here long enough.”, Winston admitted.

“Well, since you love me so much, let’s try to find brunch. I’ll wake up the crew.”, she announced as she crawled out of bed, “That way, we won’t be as hungry going to this bougie ass Mediterranean spot my folks selected for tonight’s dinner.”

He rolled his eyes, “You better be glad you graduated today, Pumpkin.”

-------------------

Olea Restaurant, New Haven, Connecticut, 8:15 p.m.

The graduation dinner was running smoothly. The private dining area was tastefully accented with gifts and Yaa’s graduation pictures. Nearly twenty minutes after the family arrived, Yaa and Tanisha walked in side by side. Everyone stood and applauded the woman of the hour. Winston stared in awe at Yaa who, as always, strutted into the room with such grace and power.

Khalida chose the more adult outfit option for dinner. She wore her locs in a low bun and kept her glasses, tam, hood, stoles, and medal on. Her royal blue dress fit snug. Though Khalida often wore form-fitting dresses, none were as form-fitting as this one. Her rather well-endowed chest and wide hips were brought to the forefront; her fupa was somewhat concealed by the side peplum panels. The nude pumps she wore were accented by her anklets. Truly a work of art.

“My goodness, sweetheart. This dress is absolutely divine on you.”, Khadijah commented as she examined her first born’s outfit.

“Ibby, you look refreshed. That nap did you some good,I see ”, Mustapha teased.

“Thanks, Umi and Baba.”, Yaa said. “Thank all of y’all for coming and supporting the kid. I can’t believe this is all happening. I’m like...finished! Yale really gave me a doctorate.” The realization of her journey’s culmination brought tears of joy to the “hard-nosed” Yaa. She finally sat the far end of the table next to Winston.

“Pumpkin, you look divine.”, Winston whispered in Yaa’s ear during their hug and kiss. He twirled her around to get a better look of her outfit. She’s going to be the death of me.

“Why, thank you. Gotta show school spirit, y’know.”, Yaa joked. Winston pushed his girlfriend’s chair up to the table.

“I’d like to make a toast...”, Winston stood and began, “...to the woman of the hour, Doctor Abdullah. I know we’ve been in each other’s lives for not even two months, but watching you work and grind towards your goals has given me the initiative to better myself not only as an up and coming actor, but as a person. Khalida, you give me more reasons to be the luckiest man alive and today is the pinnacle. I love you so so much, Khalida, you have no idea. So here’s to our Khalida and her many successes now and forever. Ase.”

The table echoed scattered “Asé’s” and “aww’s” as they clinked their glasses. Yaa cheesed to keep tears forming as she looked into Winston’s eyes as he sat down. “I love you more,Winston.”, she declared as she kissed him. He placed his hand at the hem of her dress and rubbed her thigh. She cut her eyes to his hands and then directly to him; he replied with a smirk. Buzz buzz. Yaa wasn’t the only one who peeped Winston’s unusual behavior.

———————

Winston walked into the bathroom to see Yaa freedom her locs from its bun. He enjoyed seeing her hair down. She noticed him in the mirror studying her.

“May I help you,sir?”, Yaa questioned. Winston walked behind her and nuzzled her neck.

"I love you." he said, wrapping his arms around her.

"What has gotten into you, today? You haven't kept your hands off me all day." she said, giggling.

"I just want to show you that I love you. I think I may have just realized how much I want you." he said. She looked at him, taken aback.

"Want me? You are just now figuring that out?" ,she said, pulling away from him and crossing her arms over her chest.

"That's not what I mean." he said, in a low gruff voice. Yaa jumped slightly as she felt his hands grip her ample waist and pull her into him. As if it were instinct, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Seeing you in that dress...having you this close to me."

She closed the last bit of space between her, biting her lip as he craned in. "You are the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen. You're smart, accomplished, hilarious. You are phenomenal. But there is a part of each other we haven't experienced.” He picked her up and sat her on the vanity. “And if it's okay with you, Denae, I'm tired of waiting."

She began unbuttoning his shirt. “I thought you’d never ask, baby.”, she whispered. Their lips met and the intoxicating kiss consumed them. Like a drug, their favorite drug. The slow tongue war continued as Yaa finally took Winston’s shirt off. Nothing was breaking this kiss. His hand traveled up her leg.

“Move your arm, baby.”, Yaa said between kisses. He looked at her with hooded eyes and chuckled deeply.

“That’s not my arm,love.”, he replied sensually. She stopped, mouth agape. She cut her eyes between his erect third arm resting against her inner thigh and the cocky smile and lip bite plastered on his face. This nigga finna split me open.

His hand continued its journey to her inner thighs, where he got down to nibble and kiss them with such intent and passion. He picked her up and traveled to the bed. While on the journey, Yaa bumped her head in the doorway of the bathroom. She giggled as he placed her gently on the bed. “Oh my God, Pumpkin, are you okay?! Do you need ice? Please say something.”, Winston rambled nervously. He swiftly placed her on the bed and turned on the lights to examine her head. She finally opened her mouth and laughed...hard. It could’ve been from the bump or just the fact that she was a bona fide clown. Her laugh turned into an all out cackle, prompting Winston to laugh with her.

“I’m fine, love.”, she began saying in between cackles and breaths, “I just bumped my head.If I pass out, just take me to the hospital. No questions.” The passive tone she used made it difficult for Winston to decide if she was joking or being dead serious. Either way, he appreciated how she broke the thick tension between them. The perfect icebreaker. They finally got themselves together and turned off the lights.

“I hate for such a nice dress to come off, but I wanna see what masterpiece is underneath.”, he commented. Lord, that voice. He lifted the dress over her head, where he was met with her ample cleavage being confined by a red lace bra. She freed herself of her bra and he began caressing her breasts.

“I’ve been trying to get to these since we met.”, he commented. She laughed.

“I know. You looked at them like they were water in the desert.”, she answered laughing. As if on cue, he took one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around her nipple and sucking on it. His tongue traveled up to her sweet spot on her neck. Chills. Her sweet moans served as motivation for his assault of her neck.

Satisfied, he came down and began slowly peppering wet kisses on her feet and leveling up to the inside of her thighs. Shit, spot #2. He looked up to see his girlfriend’s face consumed with pleasure. She bit her lip as she looked down at him with hooded eyes. She cursed under her breath with every kiss he placed. Finally, he kissed her opening, eliciting a back arch and a drawn out “Shiiit!” from Yaa. His mouth became friends with her opening as he sucked on her bud and his tongue explore. He added two fingers as he latched onto her clit. He began pumping his fingers inside of her with a moderate pace. He alternated his sucking with kissing and licking,prompting more hushed cursing from his lover. She was unraveling. He stopped but kept his fingers inside of her. “Fuck you for teasing me like this.”, she moaned. He chuckled. She’s a mess.

“I want you around me, Denae.”, he commented as his fingers brushed up against her opening and examining her nectar. He slid his body between her legs and slid his member inside of her. Her head flew back as his girthy member went deeper inside her tight opening. He noticed her twitch as he lowered himself into her.

“Are you ok,Denae?”, he said examining her face.

“I’m not used to you yet. I’m just tight. I’ll be fine.”, she reassured. Carrie and Khalida ain’t raise no bitch. They both moaned as they began grinding in sync.

“Shit, you fit around me like a glove.”, he moaned, his voice saturated with lust. She kissed him in response.

Winston peppered wet,sloppy kisses on her neck as he rolled his hips, hitting her g-spot deep with every stroke. His pace was slow but unyielding. Her sweet moans and gasps mingled with his low grunts and occasional higher moans. The room was clouded in lust. Besides the sounds of wet skin slapping, moans, and pants, Maxwell’s “Whenever Wherever Whatever” played softly in the background.

Now straddling his lap, Yaa found herself holding back tears as her sexual appetite was being satisfied to her liking. She balanced herself with one hand rested on Winston’s bare chest and the other on the bed. She bounced on his dick as he held on tightly to her love handles. He watched with hooded lust-filled eyes as his girlfriend’s breasts bounced freely against her pace. Her bounce slowly devolved to a twerk and then a gyration as she neared her peak. She was sending him into a tizzy as she clenched tightly onto his dick. If they weren’t already in love, this moment would be when they’d fall in love. Their moans echoed in response as feedback for the other. They were both coming undone. Their rhythm became disonant as they neared the end. Winston sat up and sloppily kissed his girlfriend’s neck. Her breath hitched as they stared into each other’s eyes, both pairs stinging with tears.

“Winston,baby, you feel so good.”, Khalida uttered between her teeth and tears. Her tears and desperate moans served as Winston’s motivation to cum.

“Cum for me, baby.”, he whispered into her ear. He released a low growl; that did it for the both of them. She roared into his shoulder as the sensation of their simultaneous release overwhelmed her core. She collapsed from the sensation.

————————

Yaa and Winston found themselves physically exhausted from their lovemaking. They laid in bed in silence, reflecting on what just occurred. She laid her head on his chest as he tried detangling her locs with his fingers. He gently kissed her locs. “That was...wow. That was uh.”, Winston attempted to strike up conversation.

“Intense? I think that’s the word you’re looking for: intense.”, Yaa suggested. She looked into his eyes and kissed him.

“Yeah, intense. Literally the word I was looking for. My mind is going 25 miles a second. I can’t believe we finally did it.”

“Yours too?! This is...wild.”

“How?”

“Everything we do together feels so organic. I’m really not one to openly be a sap, but you’re so right for me. Being around you makes sense and what we just did is a feeling I’ll never get over...ever.” She interlocked her small fingers into his larger ones and kissed his knuckles. He chuckled as his free trailed between the valley of her breasts.

“I guess your cousin Daniel was right…”, Winston said lifting her chin up to meet his eyes.

“The fuck is he right about?”, she shot up staring him dead in the face. He kissed her lips.

“...I guess I am responsible for making a hard G soft.”, he flinched in anticipation of whatever assault was coming as consequence of his statement. One tickle and pillow fight later, the two found themselves out of breath once more.

“You know, Chris, to be a health nut, you in worse shape than me.”, she giggled.

“Oh, shut up and go to bed.”

OH THIS THE TAG LIST TAG LIST!

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[amarismr]

“You can save people, Melanie. You can save everybody.”

At a glance, The Girl With All the Gifts caught my curiosity once I noticed the book’s long-haired, blond protagonist was replaced on screen with young Black actress Sennia Nenua. My brother brought the film to my attention, for he is a noble Black Horror enthusiast himself-with his foundation set in Black vampirism- Blade, Queen of the Damned, and influenced by my papa’s beloved VCR copy of Blacula. My own enjoyment around horror became increasingly skeptical whenever a Black character was present, expecting their destruction, betrayal, or sacrifice. However, after surveying the brief trailer, and a sneak peek at critique reviews, my curiosity was fully peaked. Before the film even began I found myself rooting for Sennia, playing Melanie, without the need of her role. In fact, I instinctively viewed the film deciphering what, if anything, Melanie’s Blackness did for the story.

Visually, the opening scene made me uneasy. It begins with Melanie, who is counting. Once she reaches one she gets up from her bed and into a wheelchair, waiting. Sargent like men enter her quarters, finishing up her confinement by securing her wrist, strapping her ankles, waist, head with thick bands. Charmingly, Melanie greats them, seemingly unbothered by her custody. She knows them all by name and addresses them with their appropriate titles. Already, my criticism is piqued. I begin asking myself several whys- why is Melanie strapped up? Why is Melanie so polite to her captors? Why does Melanie seem utterly okay with her incarceration?

As she is wheeled out of her flat other children appear, in similar confinement as Melanie’s-but most importantly, I can’t help but notice that Melanie is the only Black child in the film.

As the storyline progresses it reveals that Melanie and the other children are an infected breed of zombies, called the Hangries. If triggered, the children become animalistic, monstrosities craving human flesh. Captive, the children are fed bugs, rolled into a classroom to be taught by the films teacher Miss. Justineau, and it is revealed that one by one they are picked off, taken away to be dissected in search for a cure. Unbeknown to Melanie, the displacement of each child depends on the number of her choosing, during her morning conversation humoring scientist, pathologist Dr. Caroline.

In fact, Dr. Caroline is not the only character that humors Melanie, treating her with a type of humanity that seems a reward for the infected children. Melanie’s teacher, Miss. Justineau, has several instances expressing her affection for the charming Melanie. In a particular scene in the film, she dares lay a hand on Melania's head-a horrific demonstration of companionship that the guarding Sargents scold her excessively for.

I can not help but wonder if Melanie’s Blackness aided in creating this distance between them, the Hangries, and us, the captors. Undoubtedly, the film serves to separate Melanie entirely from the other children, showing a constraint within Melanie that the other children do not possess once triggered. In fact, evidence of her difference is not just shown by her affection for her teacher, Helen, but also in her unique reverence for human life, respectability, and curiosity. In fact, Melanie is the only child that notices when another of her cohort is missing, connecting the dots to find that she had chosen that missing child’s same room number the day before.

The following day, Melanie humors Dr. Caroline---by giving her own room number.    

And that quickly, like watching a glass under a faucet suddenly overflow, I found how appropriate Melanie’s race was for the film. As if being a Hangrie has not already fulfilled the magical Negro narrative, Melanie also had to sacrific herself? Was the gift that she would be the second to die? As the film takes an apocalyptic turn, Melanie becomes somewhat of a caretaker; utilizing her Hangries DNA to get resources for the humans, surveying the path for the humans, fending off a lot of Hangries children haunting the humans. Still, I was intrigued by why replacing a young white girls with a young Black girl already did wonders for the stories narrative. How powerful it was seeing a child, shackled and in prison orange, when so many Black bodies will live majority of their life in mass incarceration. How jarring Melanie’s intelligence was in the film, memorizing the periodic table, displaying an acute sweetness to reinstate her humanity, and daring to love herself, her kind. And in the end, Melanie made a decision that I could not critique, for it was something I craved. She chose herself, her life, before the rest of civilization, releasing a plant that infected all of mankind-the first instance of Horror a Black character was allowed a stroke of selfishness and victory. It was one of the few instances in horror were an ending made me feel sad for mankind, yet I could not judge who deserved to live more. In the end, I was proud Melanie chose herself. 

[moresvuheadcanons]

A Powder Keg in a Prison Cell

As much as it pains @carisiismyhomeboy and I to say this, we’re entering the home stretch of this series. Because this chapter is told from the perspectives of Mike and Liv’s Sister, this is a LONG one. We like to think it’s worth it, though.

The phone buzzing on the nightstand woke him in the middle of the night. A check of his work phone showed no notifications, meaning that it was his burner phone. Only one person had access to that number. A sense of dread filled him. Carisi wouldn’t call at this hour without a good reason.

Before he even had a chance to say hello, Carisi started speaking. He told Mike that Amanda had gone over there for a girls’ night, and accidentally left her phone at the end of the evening. By the time she realized it and had gone back, she found the door ajar and the house completely empty.

“Look, Sarge, I don’t have a lot of time before they notice I disappeared, but I thought you should know: she’s gone missing. We’re searching the house for clues now, but Liv honestly has no idea who would do this or why. Given what I know, I thought you might be able to do more. I gotta go, see if I can help”

After hanging up the call, Mike punched the wall above his bed, and immediately regretted it. Although he didn’t hurt himself, he very easily could have. She needed him right now, and breaking his hand wasn’t going to help her. He’d known better than to go to his own gravesite. He knew better than to meet up with Carisi. At the time, it had been worth it to hear about her, to hold on to whatever connection to her he had left. He was going to fix this. He had to fix this. He quickly pulled out the case files his coworkers had left him, hoping that there was something new they could tell him.

He’d been searching for several hours, without any new leads when he got a text message on the phone he’d been using in his cover.

You never told us she was so pretty. Come alone and she might leave completely unscathed.

The message fried his last nerve, and he flipped his table in frustration. Taking a moment, to collect himself, Mike started to make a plan. He saved the address and started to make his way. Knowing he couldn’t tell his bosses, because at the very least, that meant a raging lecture, at most, full strike team, he made a quick call to Carisi. He needed someone he could trust, and someone that she trusted as well. If things went sideways, he could count on Carisi to get her out of there safely.

“Please tell me you’ve got somethin’. Liv’s driving herself crazy trying to figure out why anyone would take her, and it’s driving me crazy to not be able to say anything to her” Carisi said.

“They’ve got her. They just sent me the address and I need your help to get her out.” Mike responded.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can”

The two men met outside the house as Mike explained the dynamics of the group. There were only three besides himself that made the move from Iowa. Rick, the ringleader, and his trusted friends Aron and Caleb. The plan was to eventually destroy a series of mosques through a combination of well-crafted arsons and homemade bombs. The change in M.O. would make it harder to pin it to one organization. They were very tight knit, and closed their ranks at even the smallest hint of disloyalty. A quick survey of the house showed a back entrance for Carisi to sneak into as Mike went to the front door.

You woke, feeling a bit out of focus as you opened your eyes. Your head was still a bit sore from the hit it took the night before, though the dry feeling in your mouth led you to suspect that you’d also been drugged. Liv hadn’t mentioned any particularly dangerous perps as of late, so you were at a loss as to why you’d been targeted.

“Ah, so she is still alive” one of the men said.

“Please, just let me go, I promise I won’t say anything” you pleaded.

“No, we have to keep the bait on the hook” he responded.

Then, there was a knock on the door.

“Our guest is finally here” the man said with an overly enthusiastic smile. He looked to one of his cohorts.

“Aron, why don’t you go and check the area, make sure our guest is playing by the rules.” The man with the buzz cut nodded and quickly exited through the back.

As the ringleader opened the door, you heard a muttered conversation. You heard your captor talking, and another voice saying that you had nothing to do with this, that he should let you go. The other voice sounded familiar, but you weren’t sure you could place it.

“And why the hell would I do that?” your captor asked.

“Because I love her” the voice answered. You recognized that voice, but it was impossible. Surely, it was the drugs causing some sort of auditory hallucination. Still, you had to try.

“Mike?” you called out, fighting your restraints. That got the attention of one of your captors, who promptly put a gag in your mouth. Not long after, you saw Carisi enter through the back door and deliver a quick blow to the back of his head, incapacitating him. Carisi put his finger to his lips, asking you to keep quiet.

“Mike?” she called from the kitchen. He could hear the fear in her voice. He tried to rush over to her, let her know that this wasn’t a dream. Rick pushed back, brandishing a gun.

“Woah woah woah there, buddy. Not so fast, have a seat” he said, using his gun to point Mike towards a chair. Mike sat reluctantly, but figured that the longer he could keep Rick talking, the more time Carisi had to help free her. Swallowing his anger, he spoke.

“Why?” he asked.

“We learned a while ago we had a mole, but it was hard to figure out who, since several people joined our little group around the same time. It seemed like a coincidence at first, but before long, our brothers were getting raided. And always when they were about kill some of those terrorists infiltrating our country. And it always seemed to happen when the plans made it to us. So, we decided to relocate. Figured there were more targets in New York anyway, so it seemed like a good move. I only took the ones I could truly trust. Even so, I made sure to keep an eye on everyone. The only one that didn’t add up was you. You never left your apartment unless you were with us. Not for the first few weeks, anyway.”

“How did you know that?”

“I followed you. For a while, I wasn’t getting anything interesting. And then you went to the cemetery. I thought it was a little strange that you didn’t talk to the girl, so I did some digging. And you know what I found? A dead man. You wanna explain to me how you rose from the dead to join us?”

Mike felt all the blood drain from his face.

“And now that I’ve got you here, I can get rid of the rat that’s been plaguing my house”

As Rick started to wrap his finger around the trigger, they heard a muffled thud come from the kitchen. The sound created just enough of a distraction that Mike was able to tackle his target. The gun went off in the struggle, putting a bullet hole in the ceiling before it fell out of Rick’s hand. A couple of squarely landed punches to the face incapacitated him.

He ran to the kitchen, finding her bound to the chair. She was disheveled, and a little bruised, but she was alive, and she was okay.  He rushed to cut the ties as Carisi bound the wrists of the perps. After he finally got her freed and the gag had been removed, she spoke.

“You’ve been gone a long time” she said, her voice shaking. Even when she’d kidnapped and her whole world had been turned upside down, she couldn’t resist teasing him. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. Through tears of relief, he gave a chuckle and pulled her face to his, kissing her on the forehead.

He was back, and she was safe. Everything else would be okay.

[rhetoricfemme]

Questionnaire!

Feel free to partake if you’re so inclined, and thanks for tagging, me @pilindiel​!

Under the link for lengthy reading. :)

THE LAST 1. DRINK: Mountain Dew 2. PHONE CALL: The dog groomer 3. TEXT MESSAGE: My mom 4. SONG YOU LISTENED TO: A Candle’s Fire, by Beirut 5. TIME YOU CRIED: Amazingly, I think it’s been a few weeks. 6. DATED SOMEONE TWICE: Dated Hubs twice. :) 7. KISSED SOMEONE AND REGRETTED IT: I REGRET NOTHING. 8. BEEN CHEATED ON: Nope, although back in high school two guys unknowingly broke up with me for the same girl, so there’s that. 9. LOST SOMEONE SPECIAL: Yes, I have. 10. BEEN DEPRESSED: Postpartum depression sucks and my goodness do people like to call you out on having it. 11. GOTTEN DRUNK AND THROWN UP: Just the once, thanks!  3 FAVOURITE COLOURS 12. Navy blue 13. Grey 14. Various shades of grey, green, and blue IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU 15. MADE NEW FRIENDS: I have!  16. FALLEN OUT OF LOVE: Perhaps fallen deeper into it, actually!  17. LAUGHED UNTIL YOU CRIED: I have. :) 18. FOUND OUT SOMEONE WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU: Yes, yes I have. 19. MET SOMEONE WHO CHANGED YOU: Most certainly. 20. FOUND OUT WHO YOUR FRIENDS ARE: Oh yes. 21. KISSED SOMEONE ON YOUR FACEBOOK LIST: Nic happens to be on my Facebook, yes.

GENERAL 22. HOW MANY OF YOUR FACEBOOK FRIENDS DO YOU KNOW IN REAL LIFE: All but three? And some vague relatives.  23. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS: Three feline cohorts and a doggo. 24. DO YOU WANT TO CHANGE YOUR NAME: No thanks, I’mg good. 25. WHAT DID YOU DO FOR YOUR LAST BIRTHDAY: I don’t even remember.  26. WHAT TIME DID YOU WAKE UP: Around 7:45, I think... 27. WHAT WERE YOU DOING AT MIDNIGHT LAST NIGHT: Watching stuff. 28. NAME SOMETHING YOU CAN’T WAIT FOR: BEING DONE WITH THIS DEGREE MRGH  29. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU SAW YOUR MOM: A few days ago! 31. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW: Graceless, by The National 32. HAVE YOU EVER TALKED TO A PERSON NAMED TOM: My dad is named Tom, as is my youngest nephew. <3 33. SOMETHING THAT IS GETTING ON YOUR NERVES: Um... How about there being only 24 hours in a day? 34. MOST VISITED WEBSITE: Tumblr and my school website. 35. HAIR COLOUR: Dark brown, and I’m trying really hard to grow out my Rogue streak. 36. LONG OR SHORT HAIR: Short <3 37. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON SOMEONE: Always. First and foremost my husband, but Steven Yeun and Cillian Murphy are close seconds. 38. WHAT DO YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF: My eyes and my inexhaustible penchant for writing.  39. PIERCINGS: I repierced my earlobes a few months ago.  40. BLOOD TYPE: Pretty sure it’s AB.  41. NICKNAME: Chrissy. A few friends from work came over recently, and they said they kept waiting for this ‘Chrissy’ person to show up, because they apparently cannot fathom anyone calling me this name. Which I think is hilarious. Also, my Borders handle is X-Factor, which I still get called by certain lovely people. <3 42. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Married! 43. ZODIAC: Virgo 44. PRONOUNS: She/Her 45. FAVOURITE TV SHOW: Scrubs, OHSHC, SNK 46. TATTOOS: I have a Celtic tree of life tattooed on my left arm, and plans for a few more when the time is right. :) 47. RIGHT OR LEFT HANDED: Right handed. 48. SURGERY: I’ve had an appendectomy and an emergency c-section that was under full anesthesia, because I’ve been told no medical professional in their right mind would give someone with my blood an epidural. ::shrugs::

50. SPORT: Running and tennis! 51. VACATION: I went to Michigan recently?  52. PAIR OF TRAINERS: Maroon low-top Chucks, and a Good pair of running shoes. MORE GENERAL 53. EATING: I mean. I’d like to be eating macaroni and cheese. 54. DRINKING: Nothing at the moment, thanks. 55. I’M ABOUT TO: Oh, who knows. As long as I blow through this to-do list by the end of the day, as far as I’m concerned my time table is still on vacation. 56. WAITING FOR: So much. 57. WANT: Finish this next chapter today. 58. GET MARRIED: I did it once, and that will be enough. :)

WHICH IS BETTER: 60. HUGS OR KISSES: Both, please, all of the affection.  61. LIPS OR EYES: Yes. 62. SHORTER OR TALLER: If I say only taller, that excludes Seth Green and Elijah Wood, so.  63. OLDER OR YOUNGER: Either, within reason. 64. NICE ARMS OR NICE STOMACH: Naturally drawn to the torso, though one’s stomach doesn’t have to be flat in order to be nice, in my opinion. BUT YES, LET’S TALK ABOUT NICE ARMS, TOO. 65. HOOK UP OR RELATIONSHIP: Relationship, please. 66. TROUBLEMAKER OR HESITANT: Verbal troublemaker. HAVE YOU EVER: 67. KISSED A STRANGER: I have not. 68. DRANK HARD LIQUOR: Once or twice, and unimpressed. 69. LOST GLASSES/CONTACT LENSES: Do sunglasses count? 70. TURNED SOMEONE DOWN: Yeah... 71. SEX ON THE FIRST DATE: Nope. 72. BROKEN SOMEONE’S HEART: It’s only the worst thing I’ve ever done. 73. HAD YOUR HEART BROKEN: Yeah. 74. BEEN ARRESTED: Nope! 75. CRIED WHEN SOMEONE DIED: Yes yes. 76. FALLEN FOR A FRIEND: Sure have! DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 77. YOURSELF: Most of the time I do. 78. MIRACLES: I think I do. We’d have to sit down and get into the theological technicality of what you consider a miracle, but I’m pretty sure I do. I also believe in fate, which I consider a separate thing. 79. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT: I think so? In a way. I definitely believe in lust at first sight. But for each of the limited number of people I’ve been in love with, I can recall my first time seeing them being nonchalant encounters, where their presence was essentially inconsequential, but I still found myself captured by them for one reason or another. Is that love? I developed love for those people, yes, but was that first meeting love?? Let’s say I believe in the fateful lead-in to love. 80. SANTA CLAUS: I mean. Nikolaus of Myra was real, so.   81. KISS ON THE FIRST DATE: I sure do. 82. ANGELS: I might? I think I do. I need to further analyze my thoughts on the composition and intentions of said angels, though. OTHER: 84. EYE COLOUR: Green and I love them. 85. FAVOURITE MOVIE: Ferris Bueller’s Day Off!!!  <333

[preoccupiedpens]

Dream Hunters Chapter 16: 98th

COLOSSEUM EMPIRE IS ALMOST shaped in a circular pattern. It is one of many independent nations that does not rely on United Alliance.

           On the borders of Colosseum Empire are twelve villages called Traeux, each in the position of an analog clock, and each named with numbers --- Traeux I to Traeux XII in clockwise order. The Traeux villages serves as the first line of defense of Colosseum Empire. They are to hold the enemies as long as they can and wait for the reinforcements.

           The reinforcements are in the larger villages called Lagaian. Like Traeux, there are twelve Lagaian villages and are in the same position, and named with same numbers --- Lagaian I to XII. Unlike Traeux though, Lagaian have larger number of army, each having a single legion of army, enough to invade a small country. And having twelve legions, Colosseum Empire is an empire that no other countries dare to invade. Except some few barbaric community that tries to steal land, women, cattle, and any valuables.

           At the center of Colosseum Empire is the Capital where six more legions reside, important families live, and important structures are built. It is where the senates are, the emperor, nobles, royalties, and the most well-known arena in the world, the Colosseum Arena. There are many commoners in the Capital as well, mostly are servants and laborers.

           “This is where the arena is located. It’s at the center of the Capital. That’s where you can see the gladiators fight.” Said Faustus while pointing at a map. “So whether you join or fight, that’s up to you guys.”

           Daisuke looked at Riku and Jack. “Come on guys. We’re already low on money anyway. So why not join?”

           “You don’t even know how to use a sword, spear, or shield. Powers and magic are prohibited.” Said Jack.

           “Oh how hard can it be? I may not be able to land a clean hit, but at least I can dodge. I’m confident with my reflexes and speed.” Daisuke insisted.

           “Daisuke, most defeated gladiators die during battle. Can you even kill for entertainment?” asked Faustus.

           “Wait what?”

           “Hey guys. Here are your imperial passes.” Julius handed Riku four papers. “This proves that you have been processed here in Traeux XII and that we allow you to stay in Colosseum Empire for fourteen days.”

           “Thank you, Julius.” Said Riku. “Fourteen days are enough for us to keep our supplies topped and continue our journey.”

           “Be sure to always show that whenever you’re asked and surrender it before leaving the empire.” Faustus reminded.

           “Thank you guys. We’ll be on our way then.” Said Raijin.

           “We should be the one thanking you guys.” Faustus said. “If ever, please do visit us again.”

           The quartet bid farewell as they continued to travel to Colosseum Arena.

           Faustus then looked around. “Hey, has anyone seen Emilia?”

 At the Capital’s market, the people are talking about the upcoming fight of the gladiator that came six months ago. An outsider was caught, managing to defeat at least three cohorts all by himself. It is said that he came from Dragonheim, a continent near the south pole of Laniagaea and a very unforgiving land.

           “Come on, guys! The fight is about to start!” said one kid.

           The other kid tried to run faster. “I’m trying *huff* *huff* I’m trying.” Said another.

           The kids managed to pass through all the people at the street. Then they went to a certain alley, and opened a pot hole. As they went down the sewers, they navigated with a torch to see their way. And when they finally reached a ladder, they went up discretely, and got inside the Colosseum Arena’s old male comfort room.

           The kids walked outside the room, and blend in the crowd as if they have paid to get inside. Soon, they are at the viewing deck for the commoners and are just in time to watch the main event.

           “Ladies and gentlemen. For today’s main event, our challenger is a long time gladiator. A veteran from Lagaian II. Once a great soldier, now a gladiator to serve his sentence. I give you, Silvanus!”

           The audience cheered Silvanus’s name. Many has bet that Silvanus is able to win any battle.

           Silvanus raised his spear and shield as he cheered the crowd. He is wearing a full body armor and a helmet that covers his face.

           “And now. On the opposite side of the arena. The undefeated barbarian. The man who defeated three cohorts. The man who claims to be a personal bodyguard of a crown princess. I give you, Siegfried!”

           Siegfried is quite shorter compared to Silvanus. Unlike Silvanus, his armor is made of leather and fur. His helmet covers his eyes and nose and ears, but revealing lower face. He’s got one arm guard, on his left arm, which has neck protection. His body have chain mail, and wears fur boots.

           The audience booed him.

           Today marks his ninety-eighth fight. The emperor, Augustus Severus Tiberius, promised him his freedom if he manages to win one hundred consecutive times. Not only him, but also the girl he is with.

           “I am sorry, Siegfried, but today, you will perish!” Silvanus taunted.

           Siegfried unsheathed his swords. Just like what the people at Traeux XII said, he wields the sword reversely. The blade of the swords are at his back. The hilt of the swords resembles a head of a raven.

           On the mark of the emperor, the battle begun.

           Silvanus was the first to attack. He run towards Siegfried and threw his spear. Before the spear could hit Siegfried, Siegfried jumped and somersaulted. As he landed, Silvanus greeted Siegfried with his dagger, which Siegfried deflected with the sword.

           As they exchange blows, Silvanus taunted Siegfried even more.

           “Hey! Why don’t you just escape from here? Didn’t you defeated three cohorts?”

           “You speak too much.” Siegfried lunged towards Silvanus and tried to slit the throat, but Silvanus managed to dodge.

           “Ho-ho. That attack just now was filled with killing intent. But your style of fighting is full of opening!”

           Silvanus attacked again with his dagger. Siegfried blocked Silvanus’s first slash, but it exposed his side, which Silvanus tried to take advantage. With another dagger, Silvanus stabs Siegfried. But to his surprise, Siegfried managed to quickly deflect the dagger.

           “You were saying?”

           “Tsk.”

           Silvanus attacked even more. Siegfried simply parries every slash of Silvanus while stepping back. Silvanus kept on charging until he is near the spear he threw. He grabbed the spear and tried to stab Siegfried, but Siegfried countered by jumping and rotating midair.

           Siegfried cut the spear several times until he land behind Silvanus. Then, he slashed his back in a cross pattern.

           The crowd cheered to the fight that ensued. Everyone is now had their thumbs downward.

           Siegfried looked at the emperor. The emperor stood while holding his goblet of wine. Then, he raised the goblet with the thumb on it, then turned it upside down.

           The crowd went wild. And at that moment, Siegfried stabbed Silvanus.

  The quartet has now reached Lagaian XII. They were met by the optio of the century that went to Traeux XII.

           “Welcome to Lagaian XII. We received a crow from Traeux XII saying that the group who helped them are passing through here.” Said Vitus.

           “Thank you, Vitus. We’re just here to spend the night and be on our way on the first light.” Said Riku.

           “Well, it is still early. Have you guys eaten lunch yet?”

           “No, not yet. We were thinking of we could set up a camp somewhere so we could cook something.” Raijin answered.

           “Nonsense. My legatus would like to meet you. So please, eat lunch with us.”

           The quartet followed Vitus to the camp of Cohort II. The eyes of the soldiers followed them as they walk to the main camp. As they reached the main camp, they were greeted by the legatus.

           “Ah, Vitus. So these must be the foreigners you are talking about.”

           “Yes, Legatus Aurelius. These are Daisuke, Riku, and Jack, the elves. And this is Raijin, their guide here in Aria.”

           “I am Aurelius, the legatus of Lagaian XII and centurion of Cohort I.”

           “Nice to meet you, legatus.” Said Raijin

           “Thank you for having us.” Jack added.

           “Well, I hope you are all hungry. We have a lot of food today. This is our way of saying thanks to you. We would have lost many innocent lives in Trauex XII if not for you four. Having a feast is the least that we could do.”

           The group was led by Aurelius as they walk to the dining camp of Cohort I. On their way, they see hundreds, maybe thousands of soldiers

           “Wow. I have never seen this many soldiers before.” Said Raijin in awe. “Even the United Alliance in Port Royale only have a few hundred enough for three warships.”

           “Hahaha. Well, the empire’s land is wide. Having all the soldiers we have counts.”

           The soldiers of Cohort I assembled at the dining camp There, the quartet is introduced by Aurelius. It is not every day that Colossans have elven guests, so they all had many questions to them. After the meal, Cohort I assembled outside as it is their turn to patrol the nearby lands.

           “Well, we have to accompany our men in patrolling. Feel free to go around the village.” Said Aurelius.

           “Thank you again for the meal.” Said Daisuke.

           As soon as Aurelius left, the quartet went around the village to see what Lagaian villages have.

           Most of the outskirts of the village are the camps for the soldiers. Cattles and farms are also found on the outskirts. The family of the soldiers live in the middle part of the village. This is where the commoners live as well. The market, plaza, and other buildings are located there also. And at the inner most part of the village are some of the wealthy families. They mostly own most of the land and employs the commoners.

           “Hey, isn’t that Emilia?” asked Daisuke.

           “Where?” asked Riku.

           “Over there, the one with the robe near the tower.”

           “Emilia!” shouted Raijin.

           At the center of the Lagaian villages is the Eagle Tower. It is the tallest structure in the village and has a giant eagle statue on top. Only the royalties and select nobles, senators, and soldiers may enter the towers. The quartet ran towards the tower.

           “H-Hey guys. How’s it going?” asked Emilia.

           “Great. The legatus asked us to join him for lunch earlier.” Said Daisuke

           “What are you doing here, Emilia?” asked Jack.

           “Oh, Umm…I-I’m just here for an official business.”

           “I’ve read about these towers before.” said Daisuke.

           “Really?” asked Emilia.          

           “The eagle is the symbol of Colosseum Empire. It symbolizes military strength and protection. And on the event that a catastrophe occurs, an event that not even the greatest military could stop, those towers will protect the empire.”

           Everyone backed up to see the giant eagle statue at the top of the tower. Then, everyone was startled when three giant eagles flew past them.

           “Woah! Those are live giant eagles!” said Riku.

           “Look! There are people riding those eagles!” said Jack.

           “So those are the famed Eagle Riders. Of course, the forest here on Colosseum Empire is home to the giant eagles.” Raijin added.

            The eagles made a U-turn and headed towards the quartet. The eagles got closer, then roosted on the metal poles protruding on the tower. At that distance, they saw just how big giant eagles are.

           Then, on the golden-feathered eagle came down a man with an armor and a robe. Two other men who are wearing black armors landed as well and walked side by side the first one.

           The people around the area kneeled.

           “Emilia.” Said the man from the golden eagle.

           Emilia kneeled. “Emperor.”    

“You four! Kneel!” said one of the black armored rider. “You are before the great emperor of Colosseum Empire!”

           The quartet kneeled as well.

           “Hahahaha! Please, do not scare them. I heard they helped our people at Traeux XII.” Said the emperor. “At ease. You may stand up.”

           “T-thank you, sir.” Said Riku.

           Soldiers arrived in the area with Aurelius.

           “Emperor. To what do we owe your visit.” Asked Aurelius.

           “Aurelius. It’s nice to see you again. I am just here to invite these four brave warriors to the Capital. After all, the reports I received said that we would have lost hundreds of men if not for them.”

           “Very well. We will prepare a carriage to escort them to the Capital.”

           “That won’t be necessary, Aurelius. They’ll be riding the eagles with us. Including Emilia.”

           “Pardon me, my lord, but these are elves. Are we really taking them to the Capital?” said one of the black armored rider.

           “I wanted to thank them personally, Aries.” Said the emperor.

           “There’s really no need for that, sir.” Said Raijin. “We just so happened to be there.”

           “Other people would have taken advantage of that situation. Besides, not only you four saved my people. You saved my sister Emilia.”

[salty-dracon]

TMX- Epilogue

Grey and his fallen cohorts wake up in a strange land, with their celestial powers fading. They are discovered by a young boy and his sister. 

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. He fell. 

The loss of light was like his loss of air. 

He fell and fell. 

And fell. 

The light drew farther away. He held his hand out to reach it. The darkness bit his hand like frost. He hid it.

He hit the ground with a thud. 

Grey’s body shot upright and he opened his eyes. 

The first thing he felt was a dull pain in his back, and he collapsed back down. He observed his surroundings- he appeared to be lying in the center of a crater, feeling soil roll down onto his legs. The soil itself was black and granulated, almost like sand. The grass was a muted green. 

I’m not dead? 

Grey reached his hand out, attempting to stand up. His eyes widened as he realized that the color was fading from his hand. His skin was now a little bit duller. 

He attempted to use his healing power on himself, but it only manifested as sparks. 

He heard a woman’s groan. He recognized the voice. Typhon, of course. Wherever they had landed, she would most likely have survived. She did have the strongest constitution of them all. 

Suddenly, a head appeared above the lip of the crater. “Sis!” the boy cried. His hair was blonde and fluffy. He appeared to be white. “Sis, there’s a man here!”

“I’m coming!“ an adult voice shouted. 

Should I ask him for my help? Grey wondered. Let’s see. What do I want? Above all, I wish to return to Brooke. That will require returning to heaven. However, I do not know if these people will help me. It will be a risk, but assuming all seven of us have landed nearby, we can escape if things go wrong. 

“Help.“ Grey attempted to reach his hand out. “Please, help.“

Footsteps approached from the distance. On the lip of the crater, A long-haired Vietnamese woman appeared. She was dressed in black armor and carried a staff. Behind her, a black crow followed. 

“Venus, what is it?“ the woman asked. She glanced at the distance. “Venus, I told you to be careful! We can’t go touching strange objects, now!“

“Ky Lan, they’re fallen angels! They just fell! Look, there’s seven of them!“

“Well, you’re not wrong. Their powers are fading. We should harvest some of their hair while we’re here.“

They are evil, aren’t they? 

“Please... don’t hurt us anymore... “ Grey croaked.

“Relax.“ The woman, apparently Ky Lan, approached him. “We’re just going to take a little. For research purposes. We’ll help you afterward.“ She pulled a set of scissors from a sack she was carrying and snipped a few locks of Grey’s hair off into a small bottle. After capping it with a cork, she helped him stand up. 

“Where are we?“ Grey muttered. 

“Izudia!“ the boy exclaimed. 

“Calm down, Venus!“ Ky Lan laughed. “Well, angel, I guess you could say you’re someplace a long, long way from home. Are those your friends?“

Grey turned around. Not counting his own, there were six craters, each holding a member of his council. 

All of them are with me. This is good... however, passage back to heaven will be difficult if they are just as willing as I to return. Perhaps it takes quite a bit of energy to return to heaven, but-

“You don’t care about them, do you?“ 

Grey’s eyes widened. He glanced down to see a second young boy, who looked slightly older than the first. The boy’s skin was so white it seemed like he had no blood in his body.

“Ares, that’s not nice.” Ky Lan gave a small frown before smiling at Grey. “We’ll help them. Can you tell Father that we need a cart?“

Ares walked away and pressed his fingers together. The next moment, Grey was hit with a blast of energy that knocked him out. 

----------

A young Chinese woman gently washed the sweat from Grey’s face. His skin color was fading even more now, and his hair was beginning to lose its luster. He despised the feeling of the hand rubbing the cloth on his forehead. The only woman he would allow to touch him was Brooke. 

He watched as the woman dumped the wet cloth into a plastic box and walked away with it. 

“Oi, Shen!“ 

The woman turned around as the one named Ky Lan skipped past her. “Ky. How’s Father?”

“Busy. He’s trying to close off our section of the woods before the rest of the town gets wind of what’s going on. How are our angels?“

“Some better than others. A couple have fallen to the darkness rather quickly. But that one-“ Shen pointed to Grey- “has lasted quite a while.“

The others are dead? So the energy of this dimension really does kill the angels. Meaning I might be killed too soon. I can’t let that happen. 

“You aren’t mourning them?“

Grey heard the sound of the young boy, Ares. 

“They’re not dead. They’ve lost their powers. But you haven’t.”

“Ah,“ Grey muttered. 

Can this boy read my mind? 

“Don’t be scared of me.“

“Ares, you can’t just-“ Ky Lan skipped over to Grey and led the young boy away. “Come on!“

“Hao-shen, can you please explain to him?“ Ares asked.

“I’ll do my best.“ The young woman, Shen, sat down next to Grey as the other two walked away. 

“Where am I?“ Grey whispered. 

“You’re not in heaven. You’ve fallen.“ Shen closed her eyes. “There are many dimensions in the universe. You came from one- Heaven. Angels haven’t fallen from heaven in a few centuries. We don’t know why, but they slowed to a trickle. You and your friends are the first ones in about a hundred years.“

“Am I on Earth?“

“No. There exists a dimension above Earth, but below Heaven, which we call Laceron. That is where you are now.“

“Laceron... “ 

“It makes sense that you’ve never heard of it. Laceron is an anomaly of sorts. It’s a very small single plane. Its inhabitants are capable of traveling to both heaven and Earth.“

“You can go to heaven?“

“We haven’t been able to do so for a long time. We need the power of a pureblood to access it, and the last one died out a decade ago.“

“Pureblood?“

“Yes. A true fallen. My whole family- everyone in Laceron, really- are all Earthbloods. We were born on Earth, then brought here and corrupted by use of our parents’ magic, which is derived from the power of true fallens.“

“How do I get to heaven?”

“Well, you’re in luck.“ Shen smiled. “A pureblood is a true fallen- an angel who fell from heaven. The entire world is made of descendants of those that fell many years ago. The fact that you’re here means we can open the gate once more.“

“We can?“ Grey whispered. He thought of the others. “All of us?“

“I mean... yeah.“ Shen smiled awkwardly. “We’d rather not all of you leave- I mean, my father in particular would want one of you to marry into the family-“

“I can leave?“ Grey asked. 

“Yes.“

“Take me to heaven. Now.“

“Now? But you’re injured.“ 

“There is someone I must return to.“

“I mean, there’s really nothing stopping you, but-“

“Shen, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.“ Shen turned around. Ky Lan was standing behind her, holding a book. Her once playful and teasing expression was now gravely serious. “Remember that prophecy that Slypher the Valiant spoke of many times?“

“Of course.“ Shen closed her eyes and recited a few words. “Seven sinners from the sky shall tear the clouds asunder.“ She opened her eyes. “Wait, you don’t mean-“

“Just why did you fall?“ Ky Lan asked Grey. “Just why were you cast out? What was your sin?“

The curse of seven follows me, even as I am cast out from heaven. Just in case that strange boy is nearby, I think I should be honest.

“My sin was killing my Earth sister and causing her to enter heaven. There was a prophecy in heaven, as well. Seven humans, cursed by the ones who loved them most, shall change the face of heaven. I was one of those who cursed my soultwin. After a great battle against the humans, led by our soultwins, the seventh plane of heaven, Septima, collapsed, causing the seven of us to fall. We assumed we were heading straight for hell... but we landed here instead.“ 

“When did the seventh plane collapse?“ Ky Lan asked. 

Ky Lan must be a mystic of the multiverse. 

“Just a few hours ago.”

“Oh, how do I report this to my professor without telling him we have an angel here... “

“Why not ask her to look through the multiscope?“

“Good idea.”

Another person appeared through the door. It was a nearly naked woman with dragon wings. 

“Grey.“ She walked over to Grey, still frowning. “The others are fine. What are you doing here?“

“The curse of seven follows us,“ Grey said. “These girls said so themselves. One of them is a mystic of the multiverse.“

“Who, me?“ Shen asked. “No, no, no. I’m an engineer-in-training.“

“The other one.“

“Uh, I’m an alchemist,“ Ky Lan said. “I mean, I’m also studying numerology and divination... “

“Are you an adept student?“ Grey asked. “How do you foretell the future?“

“I cast dice.“ 

“What is our fate?“ Grey asked. “Could you tell us?“

“When all of your companions are gathered, I could.“

“Please.“

----------

The seven stood before Ky Lan, her sister, two brothers, and father. 

“They asked you to perform a ritual?“ the father asked. 

“I know I’m not a seer, father, but he still wanted me to do so.“

“Please allow us,“ Grey said, bowing his head slightly. “It is very important.“

“Ky Lan, will you read them honestly?“ her father asked. 

“Ares, do you want to help me?“ Ky Lan asked the older son.

“Yes!“ For the first time, Ares smiled. 

Ky handed Grey a pile of dice. “Cast them,” she urged. “But not too hard- we can’t receive the readings again if you fail.”

The dice were emanating a strange, twisted power. Another god of the multiverse, perhaps. Kneeling over the floor, he cast the dice. 

He could not read any of the symbols engraved, except for a few numbers. A 3, a 7, a 2, and one very large, nearly round die that read 37. 

Ky Lan knelt over them, her eyes traveling between the dice. “Ares?” she asked. 

Ares walked over and looked over them. They glanced at each other with frowns on their faces. 

“Well?“ Grey asked. 

“Ares?“ Ky Lan asked. 

“Ky doesn’t think we should let you go back to heaven. The dice say it would be dangerous,“ Ares said. 

“No?“ Livia asked. “Grey, they won’t-“

“Can you go into a little more detail?“

“Um, it’s a little-“

“The numeric dice?“ Grey asked. 

“Well, there’s a few different operations you can do with those. If you add them all up, you get 49, which is seven squared, and then the threes and sevens here... you know that seven and three are very unlucky numbers for angels, right?“

“Of course.“ The curse of seven. 

“Of course, the dice each have their own individual meanings... “ Lily pointed to the die that read 3. “This is the fate die. It indicates how many possible fates there are for you.“

“And there are 3?“

“Yup. The one that says 7 is the truth die. It’s a number of truth. It has some meaning to you, or will, in the future. And the one that says 2 is the past die. Here, it indicates a rather docile past broken into 2 stages.“

“The thirty-seven?“ Grey asked. 

“If you take the digital root, you get 1, which indicates chaos, and the three and seven themselves are very unlucky.“

“The coin?“ Grey motioned to a coin with a straight line on top. 

“It says that there is no escaping your fate.“

“That’s not fair.“ Thaumas looked over the dice. “The coin has a fifty-fifty chance of landing on either side!“

“No, that’s not true. It’s made with the bones of a dragon, and is therefore weighted on the top-“

“Thaumas. Not right now.“ Grey silenced him. “The ones with pictograms?“

“The zodiac die says Mars, indicating a war in your near future, and the runic die calls forth Ragnarok, the big wolf thing that will bring forth the end of the world. And this one-“ Ky Lan motioned to a die displaying a picture of a human heart- “says that the key to salvation lies in your heart.”

“I see.“ Grey closed his eyes. “In that case, we should not go.“

“But Grey!“ Amelia shouted. “Are we supposed to believe this little girl? She rolled a bunch of dice!“

“I didn’t simply roll a bunch of dice, miss, I infused them with my magic-“

“What is the source of your magic?“ Larkspur asked, kneeling down.

“Why, Drakon, the god of chaos. He sits on the same council as the Goddess of Heaven and Hell and the Twin Gods of the Earth. And I know I’m kind of a novice, but... “ Ky Lan paused and took a breath. “when I’ve infused this much magic into my dice, I’ve never been too far off the mark. This war you’re intent on waging... you will lose it.“

“Grey?” Livia asked. 

Grey closed his eyes. “I could feel the power emanating from the dice. I fully believe her.”

“So, you’d keep us trapped here because-“

“I never said that, Livia. Ky Lan spoke of the key to salvation. Should we find this key to salvation, will we be spared from this war?“

“Um.... “ Ky Lan began picking up some of the dice. After cupping them in her hand and rolling them again, they fell to new positions. “... Absolutely, yes.”

“That answers that.“ Grey opened them. “I wish to return to heaven. If I can reunite with Brooke without sparking a war, even if there is a slim chance, I will do so.“

“And the alternative?“ Larkspur asked. 

“The alternative is to stay here.“ He glanced at the family. “You will be revered as gods and live like kings, if Haoshen is to be believed.”

“I am to be believed,“ Shen said. “Really, I mean it. Purebloods went extinct so long ago, if one were to marry into the family, we would gain tremendous power.“

“Even if one were to not,“ the father said, “purebloods have the lay of the land. You shall be greater than the existing kings and nobles of this kingdom, without a doubt. Simply choose an heir from the seven billion denizens of Earth, and the people will flock to you.“

“Very well. You have your choices.“ Grey turned back to the other six. “My answer remains the same. Despite the risks laid out by Ky Lan, I will be returning to heaven.“

“I will follow him.“ Livia stepped up to Grey. “I could never live in such a place.“

“Heaven is more to my taste.“ Typhon followed. 

“I agree.“ So did Thaumas. 

“Ky Lan?“ Larkspur asked. “Should we leave, is there anything stopping us from returning to Laceron?“

“As it stands, no,” Ky Lan said. “You can come back here if you fall through Septima again.“

“Then I shall return.“

“As will I,“ Violet whispered, following Larkspur.

“That leaves you, Amelia.“ Grey said. “Do you wish to return to heaven? I assure you, we will not judge you if you decide to stay.“

Amelia paused for a few moments before speaking. “I have no reason to return. I’ve already disowned Julien, and this lovely family is willing to let me marry one of them. I have no reason to go.“

“So you choose to stay?“ Grey asked. 

“Yes.“

“Very well.“ Grey nodded. “As soon as Ky Lan can secure our return to heaven, we shall part ways.“

------------

“So, which one do I marry?“ Amelia asked, looking over the young family. Ky Lan was twirling a small trinket in her hands, Shen was holding a book, and the boys were playing with small wooden trains a ways away. Their father was standing behind them, holding a small metal knife. 

“In Izudia, the kingdom we reside in, it is quite acceptable for two men to marry, as well as two women. Should my daughters agree, you can have one of them-“

“Um, absolutely not.“ Ky Lan interrupted him. “I still need to finish my alchemy and divination studies!“

“And what am I going to say to my suitors, Father?“ Shen asked. 

“Hopefully little will change for you, Ky Lan. You shall continue your studies at the university. Haoshen, I am afraid you will have to turn them away as lovers, but I have no problem with you loving them as friends.“

Shen looked relieved, and Ky Lan shrugged. 

“And your sons?“ Amelia asked. 

“Ares is ten years old, training to be a warmage. He will not begin his formal training for two more years, but he shows potential already. Venus, on the other hand, is eight years old, still a young child, and so far I see no destiny for him.“

“I wish to marry Venus.“

“E-Excuse me?“ The father’s eyes widened. 

“Venus. The youngest.“

Shen and Ky Lan exchanged worried glances. 

“If you had allowed me to continue,“ the father said, “I would have mentioned that I am also a suitable match, much more suitable than the young boys. My late wife, also a warmage, passed away four years ago from disease. And according to my girls, I have not aged a day over thirty. I am still capable of producing children.“

“My answer remains the same.“ Amelia walked over to Venus. “I want to marry that one.“

“He’s eight years old, though!“ Ky Lan exclaimed. “I would prefer you marry me to him!“

Shen nodded in agreement.

“I remember when Julie was eight years old.“ Amelia leaned down in front of Venus and stroked his hair. “I disowned her, obviously, but she was still such a cutie pie. I’d love to have this one all to myself.“

“Madam, I doubt such a young boy could be, well- “ the father cleared his throat- “good in bed.“

“That’s not what I care about.“ Amelia played with Venus’s ears, listening to him laugh. “I want him all to myself. You have to manage a household and your family, your eldest is in training, the fox girl’s still studying, and this one will start his training in a few years. But Venus loves all the attention he gets now.“ Amelia leaned down to Venus. “Do you want to marry me?“ she asked. 

Venus glanced at his family. His father and Shen had blank expressions, Ky Lan looked like she was about to cry, and Ares had a weird look on his face. It was the face he always made when there was something he wanted to say, but that would make someone angry.

“No.“ Venus rolled on his back. “I like Tyra from school.“

[latestnews2018-blog]

How Virgil Abloh rose to the top in fashion

New Post has been published on https://latestnews2018.com/how-virgil-abloh-rose-to-the-top-in-fashion/

How Virgil Abloh rose to the top in fashion

The son of Ghanian immigrants says his first show as Louis Vuitton’s menswear artistic director, is a culmination of a lifetime of work

On the afternoon before Virgil Abloh debuted his menswear collection for Louis Vuitton — an event that drew 1,000 seated guests; an additional 1,500 specially invited students; a truckload of the designer’s global celebrity pals, boldface names like Kim Kardashian West and Kanye West, Rihanna, ASAP Rocky, Alexander Skarsgard and Rita Ora; and a handful of Chinese pop stars with social media followings numbering in the multiple millions — a flash mob gathered at Vuitton headquarters on the Right Bank near the Seine.

Tandem teams of messengers hauled in flower arrangements for the designer, so many that the reception area began to look like a wedding hall. Assistants from a 35-member menswear team did frenzied, last minute fittings on a model. The Japanese artist Takashi Murakami — one of a laundry list of global creatives whom Abloh counts among his collaborators (the two have an exhibition scheduled to open Saturday at the Gagosian Gallery here) — drifted through the space, followed close behind by a posse of assistants wearing Comme des Garcons rags and surgical face masks.

The young American influencer Luka Sabbat darted around, hauling a big Louis Vuitton shopping bag over one shoulder. And Ian Connor, the tattooed Instagram phenom (@ianconnorsrevenge) whose self-assurance may out-scale even his million-strong Instagram following, scrolled through his phone feed, barely bothering to notice that Naomi Campbell had wandered in, clad in sneakers and leggings, to perform a supermodel gavotte — trailed, as always, by her entourage.

“This is the culmination of a lifetime of work,” said Abloh, who, at 37, effectively pinnacled the luxury-goods Everest with his appointment in March as men’s artistic director of Louis Vuitton.

“Look around this room,” added the designer — a child of Ghanaian immigrants, a suburban kid raised outside Chicago, a trained architect less notable for any specific design skills than for his masterful ability to manipulate social media. “There are people around this room who look like me,” he added. “You never saw that before in fashion. The people have changed and so fashion had to.”

By people Abloh meant consumers, of course, and the change he has ushered in represents fundamental shifts not only in who buys things but also in who gets to tell the story of fashion.

Fashion, as Stefano Sassi, the chief executive responsible for the turnaround of Valentino, recently noted in Milan, is above all a narrative business: “It’s not the sneakers you’re selling, it’s the perception and the dream.”

In former times the dominant narratives were handed down from on high to a waiting public by a succession of designers. If Abloh’s hiring proves anything, it’s that the old models have lost their validity; the cult of the Great Creative is dead. Gone are the mood boards, the Yves Saint Laurent-style mood swings, the lapdog press and all the hoary antique apparatus of the business.

Though a secular saint here, Saint Laurent probably could not get arrested in the new global digital marketplace, one in which the consumer is the presiding genius and the author of a story that increasingly epitomises aspects of Adam Smith’s free market doctrine.

In the advancing digital age, being has been substantially replaced by consuming and that act itself has devolved from anything closely related to need or pleasure into a performative existential gesture. Consider the case of Connor, the New York-born, Atlanta-raised 25-year-old whose social media tentacles reach millions on Tumblr, Twitter and Instagram. “Even if I didn’t have a home, I was sleeping on the floor, I always made sure I had my clothes,” Connor once said.

Unquestionably, along with his skill at upending fashion’s exclusionary tropes, it was Abloh’s ability to connect to people like Connor and the global digital tribes that the designer referenced in a show, held in the arcaded courtyard of the 17th-century Palais Royal, that led Louis Vuitton to him. “Fashion has to speak to a generation of people who look like me,” he said.

Accordingly, his Vuitton show featured a cast of ethnically diverse models (and also musicians like Kid Cudi, Playboi Carti and Theophilus London) that would have been inconceivable on a Paris runway as recently as five years ago. And yet, if there is little reason to question Abloh’s sincere dedication to diversity, there is somewhat less incentive to imagine the same of Bernard Arnault, the French magnate who owns Vuitton as part of his LVMH Hennessy Louis Vuitton luxury empire.

It’s worth noting that suddenly the catwalks here and, before Paris, in Florence and Milan featured unprecedented numbers of models of colour. Designers in all those cities were quick to point out the change, noting how their runways now featured castings variously described to this observer as “exotic” or “coloured” or “immigrant.”

There are vast new millennial markets to exploit in China (400 million) and India (385 million), Asia representing 19 per cent of the global generational cohort, according to demographers at the Pew Research Center, followed closely by sub-Saharan Africa with roughly 13 per cent. (Only a slowly ageing Europe remains underweight in terms of pure population.)

The goal is getting at them; the surest route, the internet; and the odds are on the internet and the affable, easy-going Abloh knowing how.

Evidently he does. Titling the Vuitton show “We Are the World,” a reference to the 1985 charity single in support of Ethiopian famine relief, the designer included with his show notes maps detailing the global origins of each member of the cast.

On a radiantly sunny afternoon, he quickly put to rest any doubts about his design abilities — “People think I’m just that guy who puts a stripe on a hoodie,” he’d said earlier, at his studio — with a demonstration of his design conviction, opening with a suave double-breasted suit worn over double-pleated trousers precisely when most menswear labels are in desperate flight from tailored clothes.

This being Vuitton, it was paired with matte white crocodile sneakers and a tote. “Why do you guys even make clothes?” was the first question Abloh asked when he was hired by a house that originated as a luggage maker. “Accessomorphosis” was the term he then coined to fuse apparel with the accessories that drive Vuitton sales.

Why carry a wallet or strap on a fanny pack or burden yourself with a card holder when you can attach it to a harness, a holster or a multi-pocketed gilet? Sure you could see in those hybrid accessories a nod to ‘90s Helmut Lang (a designer once described as the Type O of fashion: its universal donor.) And you could discern in the shifting volumes — flowing suits played off tautly snug ones — elements reminiscent of screen grabs from Pinterest pages devoted to vintage Armani.

Yet all of these came neatly balanced by components from a very personal vocabulary Abloh honed at his own label, Off-White: transparency, asymmetry, ineffable skate-rat cool. Perhaps, as some suggested, the romanticism of sequinned jacket prints depicting Dorothy Gale asleep on a bed of roses (not far from Oz) were a reference to Abloh’s belief in pursuing one’s dream, but they also underscored the Midwestern gumption he shares with that girl from Kansas.

In conversation with this reporter last year in Milan, Abloh uttered what you might call a personal credo, one applicable to anyone determined to reach a goal. “I never mind when people turn me down, because I immediately start looking for solutions,” said Abloh, who appears to have attained his at Vuitton. “I always love that first no.”