#and for every actually good show i like there’s likely one that i hold dearer that’s objectively worse

[cangse-sanren]

coming to terms with the fact i have terrible taste

[hardisonbeier31]

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[chroniclackofselfpreservation]

Creatures of the Night

Chapter 35 - hundreds of hot air balloons filling the sky in my chest

Back to the Beginning   < Previous chapter / Next chapter >   

AO3

Masterlist

(TW: dissociation, mild panic attacks, crying, scars, implied branding, non-sexual nudity (bathing), mentions of surgery, past character death, mentions of public shootings and suicide)

(The title of the chapter comes from "burial" by Ross Gay, and the poem Logan recites is "When you, that at this moment are to me" by Edna St. Vincent Millay.)

Daveigh only ended up lecturing Patton for a few minutes once he’d sufficiently recovered from the ordeal last night. He wasn’t exactly in the best condition to pay attention. It had taken an hour or two after waking up for him to even form coherent thoughts, let alone speak again. It was as if his brain had done a hard shut off and subsequently had to reconnect itself back together.

Logan scarcely left Patton’s side for more than a few seconds. Patton knew he did it out of worry and genuinely caring about him, but he couldn’t help feeling like an invalid. He felt fine, considering. Sure, he was perpetually lightheaded and looking around too quickly sent the world spinning, but he figured it could be much worse.

At the moment, he sat before the fire next to Logan, in the slow process of eating breakfast.

A group of four ants wandered around the dirt at his feet, crowding around a stray drop of sugary juice from the mango Logan had tried to get him to eat. He just couldn’t manage to stay focused. Patton had never been the biggest fan of the fruit, but they were starting to grow on him. Ha. Grow on him. He held the uneaten half of his breakfast in his hand, mesmerized by the slow stream of sugary nectar oozing from the fruit and dripping from his knuckles onto the dirt.

“Patton?” Logan said, touching his shoulder.

Patton hummed acknowledgement, taking a bit longer than normal to turn and meet his eye.

Logan chewed his cheek, searching Patton’s face. “It’s not getting any better?”

He smiled, blinking to clear the residual dizziness. “What? Sorry, Lo, did you say something?” Logan’s expression only worsened. Patton looked down again and tugged at the sleeves of his cardigan, pulling them over his hands. The thing was falling apart at the seams, the fabric more brown than gray from the dirt and mud, and soon it’d be riddled with holes. Patton didn’t really mind the fogginess in his head. If it was the price he had to pay for contacting Roman and Virgil, he’d pay it ten times over, but what Patton didn’t account for was Logan getting gray hairs over it.

“Can you at least finish your breakfast?” Logan asked, tapping his arm. “Eat these tree nuts, you need protein.”

Patton stared at the ground, the sunlight on his back steadily creeping toward uncomfortably warm. He thought about the Wakeby house. All the cleaning he wished he could do to pass the time instead of sitting here, sweaty and itchy. He didn’t like it here on the island. He wanted his friends back. Patton spent so much time and effort crafting himself the perfect life, forcing himself to forget every bad thing that had happened to him. Patton just wanted his friends back. That couldn’t be too much to ask, right? After all he’d been through already?

“Patton? Patton, hey, look at me. Breathe,” Logan said, suddenly crouching in front of him. He cupped Patton’s face with both hands, face a mask of worry.

He was tired of the heat, and the bugs, and the dirt, and he wanted his friends back. He missed them so much it hurt, and didn’t even know if they were alive.

“It was empty,” he gasped, his head beginning to pound. “The house… they weren’t—”

“Patton, can you hear me?”

He’d never freaked out like this before. Usually, it was all nightmares, and flashbacks, and screaming himself awake in the middle of the night. Now, he felt empty. His fear was far away. The body clenching its jaw, unable to breathe, wasn’t him.

You seem to be taking our new situation well.

No, I just haven’t dealt with it yet. I’m not really thinking about it.

Logan was cradling him now. Daveigh stood at his feet, watching him with what, in his current state, Patton could only interpret as pity. He hated being like this. Helpless. He was supposed to be some long-prophesied oracle, and yet all he seemed good at was having panic attacks and giving bad news.

“When you, that at this moment are to me dearer than words on paper, shall depart and be no more the warder of my heart,” Logan recited, rocking him gently, “whereof again myself shall hold the key…”

Patton wanted to focus on the words, but the ordeal last night had left his willpower in shambles. He tried to tap into that same side of him that had helped him project last night, that darker, protective, stronger side of himself. It seemed so far away.

“And be no more—what now you seem to be—the sun, from which all excellences start in a round nimbus, nor a broken dark of moonlight, even, splintered on the sea,” Logan continued, his voice beginning to waver. Patton stared up at his face as it teared up, and something warm sputtered to life inside his chest. “I shall remember only of this hour—and weep somewhat, as now you see me weep—the pathos of your love…”

Patton looked at Logan and seemed to see, really see him for the first time. The spark inside him grew, of overwhelming gratitude for kindness he didn’t deserve, of love. He began to return to his body, regaining control of his faculties. His breathing reduced from gasping to shaky exhales.

“That, like a flower, fearful of death yet amorous of sleep, droops for a moment and beholds, dismayed, the wind whereon its petals shall be laid,” Logan finished, a single tear dribbling off his nose and onto Patton’s face.

“Hey,” Patton said, lifting a trembling hand and cradling Logan’s face. “Don’t cry, Lo.”

“Sorry,” he laughed, sniffing and wiping his tears from both their faces. “I am simply glad you’re doing better. That is all.”

“Eudora dropped this off earlier,” Daveigh said, tossing a bundle of whitish fabric at Logan. He caught it with one hand. “Take him for a walk. It’ll help ground him. Try the springs—you both could use a bath.”

“She’s right,” Patton chuckled. “We stink.”

Logan smiled down at him. “Agreed.

* * * * * * * * * *

Logan held onto Patton the entire way to the springs, despite his assurances that he was feeling much better. He held the finished skirts in one hand, Patton’s hand in the other. Logan had never been to the springs before, though Mikhail had given him adequate directions to find the location on his own, and there was a footpath worn into the dirt besides.

“I didn’t know Eudora could make clothing,” Patton remarked, glancing down at the two lengths of fabric he held.

“Indeed,” Logan said. “She has a very impressive loom inside that cave of hers. We could visit it sometime, if you want.”

Patton smiled. “I’d like that.”

Rounding a bend in the trail, the springs at last came into view. A deep, clear pool perhaps thirty feet in diameter sat nestled beneath a rocky outcropping, off of which streamed a moderate waterfall. Mikhail had mentioned the existence of two pools, the upper for their drinking water, the lower for bathing.

“Oh, it’s pretty here,” Patton said, letting go of Logan’s hand and trotting up to the water. He dipped his fingers in. “It isn’t too cold.”

Logan swallowed. “What would make you the most comfortable, Patton?”

“What?”

“Regarding bathing,” Logan said, fighting the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck.

Patton’s eyes went wide for a moment, and he let out a nervous chuckle. “Oh, right. I forgot.”

“I will certainly turn my back,” Logan amended quickly, holding out Patton’s skirt to him. “But considering the repercussions of last night, I’d prefer to be within earshot… just in case.”

Patton took the fabric from him, unfolding it and holding it up. “How do I wear it?”

“Oh! Yes, Daveigh showed me,” Logan said, grabbing his own skirt and modeling over his clothing how to wrap it around his hips and tie the corners together and fold them under, creating a sort of waistband. “See?”

Patton watched carefully, nodding as he copied Logan’s movements. “Okay. I think I got it.”

“Right,” Logan said, hating how awkward he sounded. “I’ll just, um, sit over here,” he said, making his way to a large boulder and sitting down with his back to the spring. Birds sang from the canopies and the occasional dragonfly whizzed past on its way to find some lunch hanging around the freshwater, but Logan couldn’t help but squirm amid a heavy, tense silence. He heard Patton begin undressing and distracted himself with the first thing that came into his mind.

“Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, fluorine, neon, sodium, magnesium—” he sang softly, resting his elbows on his knees and chin in his hands. “Aluminum, silicon, phosphorus, sulfur, chlorine, argon—”

“Are you singing?” Patton asked.

Logan paused for a moment, hearing Patton wade into the pool. “… Does it bother you?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” he said, and Logan could practically hear his smile. “What song was it?”

Logan cleared his throat. “It was the periodic table of elements in order, actually.”

“I love you, Logan,” Patton laughed, water sloshing as he scrubbed himself clean.

Logan’s heart skipped a beat, and he nearly choked, immediately glad that he wasn’t facing Patton—though he figured one could see his blush from the International Space Station. It was a joke. He was laughing. He didn’t mean it, because Logan had seen his face when Virgil kissed him—as if Virgil had plucked the moon out of the sky and gifted it to him. Shared trauma bonded people. That’s all this was. Logan wouldn’t take advantage of that.

Patton took a breath, and Logan heard him duck beneath the surface.

Logan’s knee began to bounce and he pressed his fist to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. “Three-point-one, four, one, five, nine, two, six, five, three, five, nine—” he muttered under his breath, willing himself to think of anything else.

Patton resurfaced with a gasp, letting out a sound of relief. Logan continued listing off the digits of pi in his head, attempting to compose himself.

“I’ve been seriously underestimating the power of a bath,” Patton snorted. “I feel much better, now.” Water splashed as Patton made his way out of the spring. Fabric rustled for a moment. “All right, you can turn around, Lo.”

Logan took a steadying breath and stood, turning with an amicable smile on his—

He stopped.

Patton was covered in scars. His old clothes sat in a crumpled pile off to the side, and it wasn’t until that moment that Logan realized that he’d never seen Patton without his cardigan or some kind of jacket covering his arms, let alone his entire bare chest.

Most were faded, barely visible on their own, but there were so many crisscrossing his forearms they were hard to miss. There was a thick, knotted scar running from his navel to the top of his left hip, disappearing under the waistband of his skirt. Several more, that looked an awful lot like old stab wounds, pocked his abdomen and shoulders.

“You know,” Patton said, twisting and turning to get a good look at himself, “I wasn’t completely sold on the whole skirt idea, but now that I’m wearing it, I love it.”

Logan felt all the blood drain from his face. Patton’s back wasn’t much better, and under his arm, across his ribs, were four long, angry burns arranged in a type of rugged letter R. Like he’d been branded. Crudely, too.

“I’ll sit over here so you can…” Patton’s voice died in his throat as he met Logan’s eyes. He looked confused for only a moment, before glancing down at his bare chest. He pressed his lips together, swallowing. “Right.”

Logan blinked, immediately looking away. “I—I apologize for staring.”

“No, I understand. It’s, uh, pretty surprising, I bet,” he said a little breathlessly, running a hand through his wet hair. “I guess you understand why I opted out of that swimming field trip in ninth grade, now, huh?”

Logan glanced back at him. He looked… different. Obviously the outfit and the scars were new, but there was something else. It was something in the way he was holding himself. Something in the eyes.

I guess I’m just feeling a bit more myself these days.

Logan felt as if he were seeing Patton—in his entirety—for the first time.

“Did you mean it?” he blurted before he could think better of it, his heart crawling its way up into his throat.

Patton’s brow knit in confusion.

“Earlier,” Logan continued, sounding just this side of hysterical, “when you said you loved me. You—you were joking. Right? You didn’t mean it.”

Patton chewed on his top lip, a look of nervousness passing over him briefly only to be replaced by a sort of determination. “Yeah, Lo. I meant it.”

Logan let out a breath that might have been the beginnings of a sob or a laugh of complete bewilderment. “I… I thought you and, um, Virgil were… with that kiss and everything. You looked pretty in love back then, so it—I just figured—”

“Oh, I am,” Patton said with a smile, and Logan couldn’t decide if he was supposed to feel relieved or devastated.

“What?”

Patton clasped his hands behind his back, fighting a blush. “I am in love with Virgil,” he said slowly, “and Roman, and you. All three.”

“All three,” Logan echoed. He hadn’t considered that as an option. Frankly, he hadn’t give his feelings for any of them much thought out of fear he’d have to eventually choose one over the others.

“Do they know?” he croaked, feeling foolish. Was he the last to know? Had he been oblivious this entire time?

A touch of trepidation finally creeped into Patton’s voice. “No. You’re the first I’ve told. I don’t know how they—how any of you feel about it—and you don’t have to tell me!” he added hastily, holding out his hands. “I told you because I wanted to, not to force you to say it back, or anything.”

Logan stared at him, trying to process what he was hearing. Patton loved him. He also loved Roman and Virgil.

And Logan… didn’t know. He cared about them, of course. They were his best friends—more than that, they felt like his family. Love felt big, and unquantifiable, and nebulous—something he’d seen but wasn’t sure he’d experienced at least in the romantic sense of the word.

“I… um,” he started, “I would like some time to process and, er, organize my own feelings toward the—the subject, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course, Logan! Take as much time as you need,” Patton said, then jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll head back to camp and let you finish washing up, and I’ll respect any decision you come to. I just… wanted you to know how I felt.” If Logan hadn’t known him since he was fourteen, he wouldn’t have noticed the carefully hidden longing in Patton’s face before he gathered up his old clothes and disappeared down the trail.

Logan stood there for a long moment before finally shaking his head clear of the stupor and swiftly pulling his clothes off. They were quite dirty now that he looked at them in a pile on the ground. It was strange, though, how nostalgic he suddenly felt for a random pair of clothes. There wasn’t anything special about them. He had several similar pairs back home.

Ah. That was it. Home.

Logan stepped into the cool water, shivering, and waded out until he was chest-deep. The bath felt strangely metaphorical—leaving their old clothes behind, donning Eudora’s hand-crafted garments and becoming a part of the island rather than the foreign objects they’d been until now.

If—no, when they finally got off the island, Logna supposed there would always be a piece of the place in him. It was shaping him.

Everything, it seemed, was changing.

Including his relationship with his friends. Regardless of his conclusion about Patton’s declaration, things wouldn’t be the same.

Logan lowered into the water until the surface lapped just below his nose, blowing agitated bubbles from his mouth. Patton had made it look so easy. Patton obviously loved them, Logan had no disputes in that regard, and he was understandably in favor of a certain outcome. It was to be expected, though, wasn’t it? Of course Patton wanted them to love him back—and yet he’d set it aside to allow Logan space to make his own decision. It would be disrespectful of Patton’s efforts to come to a faulty conclusion simply to cater to his desires.

No, Logan was going to do this right.

The biggest example of romantic love he’d had were his parents. What he wouldn’t give to pick his father’s brain on the subject. He’d always connected intellectually with his father, rather than his dad, simply by way of them both seeing the world through a primarily logical lens. Feelings, Logan had come to find, were anything but.

His father had died first. A malfunction during what should have been a simple surgery when Logan was sixteen. After that, he couldn’t even stand to be in his dad’s clinic for very long. If he hadn’t had Patton, Roman, and Virgil as friends, he probably would have spent the rest of his highschool career depressed in an empty house. His dad hadn’t died until around four years later, two weeks before Logan’s twenty-first birthday, and three days before he was set to graduate with his bachelors. Someone broke into the clinic looking for drugs. His dad had taken a bullet for a child. The shooter took his own life before authorities could even arrive.

His coworkers at Wakeby Elementary often asked him why he decided to stay after getting a degree, after they buried everything tying him to the small town six feet underground. What they didn’t know was Logan had latched onto the only family he had left. Roman, Virgil, and Patton. He sold his parents’ house, which he’d inherited, and bought the one they lived in now.

He knew his parents had loved one another—that wasn’t a question—but Dad had shut off a bit after Father died, and Logan hadn’t exactly been keen on bringing their relationship up, let alone asking for love advice. Really, Patton was the only one of them with a reliable parental figure out of the four of them. Perhaps that was why he seemed to have such a solid grasp on his feelings.

Yes, they felt like Logan’s family, but he wasn’t certain he felt entirely platonic toward them. He remembered how he’d felt when seeing Virgil kiss Patton. Shocked, yes, but not put out or disappointed. If anything, he felt guilty for having feelings for either of them since he’d assumed they exclusively loved each other.

Logan took a breath and plunged completely under the water, scrubbing his hair free of sweat and dirt.

What even were romantic feelings? What qualified as romantic? Simply not platonic? Everything he’d grown up seeing on television or reading in books was, for lack of a better term… mushy. Logan wasn’t one to fawn and coo over someone, to hang on their every word, or constantly drape himself over them. He wasn’t averse to affection, but… what if he wasn’t doing it right? What if Patton’s idea of being in a romantic relationship was different, and Logan only ended up disappointing him?

Lungs beginning to burn, Logan resurfaced with a gasp, pushing his hair up off his forehead. Feeling sufficiently cleaned, he began wading out.

Logan thought back to last night, when Patton had curled up in his arms. He’d certainly enjoyed that. Placing Roman or Virgil in the same figurative situation produced similar results. Not identical, but close enough to be categorized together.

He picked Eudora’s skirt—or, his skirt, rather—up off the rock he’d set it on and secured it around his waist. The fabric was surprisingly soft and fit perfectly. Logan took a breath, the humid jungle breeze cooling the water across his bare chest and legs. It would be an adjustment, of course, but he was slowly becoming more sure that he’d be able to get through it just fine.

Feeling somewhat more resolute in his decision, Logan started back toward camp.

* * * * * * * * * *

Logan was rarely at a loss for words, and yet standing at the outer edge of camp, confronted with Daveigh, who looked incredibly smug, and Patton, who couldn’t help but look Logan up and down in his new attire, everything he’d planned to say on the way down from the springs vanished from his mind. Mikhail approached from where he sat around the smoldering firepit, holding out a pair of sandals. Logan took them, only absently inspecting them. They looked to be made of several layers of barkpaper, or something similar—certainly not leather. Rough twine served as straps to tie around his ankles. Glancing around, he noticed all three of them, including Patton, wore the shoes.

“Thank you,” Logan managed, finding his voice.

“You’ll need to break them in,” he said, loud enough that Patton and Daveigh could hear, “both of you.” Mikhail gave him a knowing wink before turning back to the fire, and Logan fought the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck. Patton looked only slightly more composed.

“Yes!” Daveigh crowed in agreement, nudging Patton with an elbow. He swatted her away. “I hear the beach is wonderful this time of year.”

Logan opened his mouth to point out that the weather was fairly consistent in this region of the Pacific, when Patton rolled his eyes with amusement and jerked his head north, toward the softer, sandier beaches. Before he could make an even bigger fool of himself, Logan acquiesced, swiftly following Patton into the foliage.

The beach wasn’t far, and when the tree line broke Logan stopped to tie on his new shoes.

“I think Mikhail was fibbing a bit about having to break in the shoes,” Patton chuckled, Logan leaning precariously against a palm tree.

“While I agree he probably had ulterior motives,” Logan said, moving on to the other foot, “I’m not fond of wandering around barefoot.” When he was finished, he stood up, walking in a circle to test them out. The twine was rough and would likely irritate the skin on his ankles, but it was better than scalding the soles of his feet on hot sand.

Patton clasped his hands behind his back and started out across the beach, Logan striding after him. The sun felt pleasantly warm against his bare skin, the ocean breeze tousling their hair.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Patton asked, coming to a stop just beyond the reach of the tide.

“I expect we’ll become well acquainted with sunburns from now on,” he said and Patton laughed. “Though,” he continued, “that is not all I wish to speak to you about.”

Patton hummed, and Logan couldn’t tell if it was a happy noise or a sad, resigned one.

He took a breath, and turned to face Patton as if about to defend his thesis to a committee. “I do not believe a simple declaration of love would properly convey the feelings I have for you, Patton. Do not be distressed, as I, too, would like to engage in a relationship with you, and Roman, and Virgil, however, I’d like to clarify how exactly I feel about you and the others, as to avoid any unnecessary miscommunication in the future.”

“Yeah,” Patton said, covering his mouth with a hand in a vain attempt to hold back what could either be tears or laughter—probably both. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat, composing himself. “Continue,” Patton said, smiling wider than Logan had ever seen.

Logan swallowed. “Right. Well, the main concern I have is the likelihood of our definitions for what constitutes romantic attraction or gestures differing, and I don’t want to, um,” he stalled a bit on the word, “disappoint you, in any way, or r get your hopes up if you think I will be comparable to someone as… grandiose as Roman tends to be.”

Patton’s smile fell away and held up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up, Logan. Let me make sure I’m getting this right. You think I—someone who has known you for several years and has literally confessed feelings for you—would be disappointed with who you are? Lo, I wouldn’t have said I loved you if I didn’t mean all of you. Exactly the way you are now.” A ghost of apprehension flitted across Patton’s features and his left hand tucked under his right arm, fingertips resting atop the red R seared into his skin. “I know there’s a lot about me you don’t know, so I understand if you don’t feel like you can—”

“I love you, Patton,” Logan said, grabbing Patton’s scarred, calloused hands in his own. “I would not wish you to change for anyone, especially me. I see now that expecting the same from myself would be foolish. I am willing to love you as you are, if you can love me as I am.”

Patton’s eyes went wide and he gripped Logan’s hands back. “Yes! Yes, of course I will!” he laughed, tipping his head back to smile at the sun.

And after all that, Logan couldn’t really fault himself for cradling Patton’s jaw with both hands and kissing him—just as one couldn’t fault Patton for giggling into Logan’s mouth and kissing him back.

[suits-of-woe]

Regan, Cornwall, Goneril & Edmund, give me all the trash children whomst I love

Thank you! I love all of these trash children far, far too much. (@harry-leroy we’re out here Lear posting :) )

Regan:

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would banghogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuffbest quality: Just pure confidence and badassery. Unless I’m forgetting someone, I think she’s the only woman in all of Shakespeare to kill someone, not indirectly like with poison, but just with a weapon and her own hands. And like? Legendary. Show-stopping. I’m too obsessed.worst quality: The whole enjoying ripping people’s goddamn eyes out is uh…shall we say not great. I’m a grade-a villain apologist but it’s pretty hard to explain her actions without considering her at least something of a sadist.ship them with: Cornwall!! Best power couple. I don’t think she actually loves Edmund that much, it’s more of a desperate rebound and a power play.brotp them with: Goneril. I like to imagine before love triangles got in the way they were partners in crime and got along, if not in an entirely healthy way, at least decently.needs to stay away from: I mean, Gloucester and Lear, but that’s for their good and not hers.misc. thoughts: I really Cannot morally justify stanning but she was the first King Lear character I loved (partially thanks to @dukeofbookingham ‘s brilliant posts about her) and I don’t think I’ll ever stop. Also I totally subscribe to the idea that if Goneril hadn’t killed her no one would have been able to stop her from becoming queen. Bow down tbh.

Cornwall:

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life (he’s objectively the worst person alive but that doesn’t stop me)hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would banghogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuffbest quality: Say what you will about him but he drinks his respect women juice and his relationship with Regan is one of the most equal and respect-based in the canon. The Macbeths want what they have.worst quality: Again like…he sure does enjoy torturing people. ship them with: Regan obv, the ultimate power ship.brotp them with: Edmund maybe? I’m trying to think if he has other friends. But I have a lot of feelings about the “thou shalt find a dearer father in my love” line so I’d like to see their relationship actually get to play out.needs to stay away from: Again, keep him away from Gloucester PLEASE. misc. thoughts: He might actually be the worst person in this play. Will that stop me though? Absolutely not. Also, relationship goals.

Goneril:

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang (I imagine her as good-looking but in my head Regan is the hot sister and Cordelia is the pretty sister and Goneril always feels less appreciated)hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuffbest quality: This might be a low bar but I actually think she’s the most practical and level-headed one in her family. Also, she was 100% right about Lear’s behaviour in Act 1 and he absolutely deserved to get kicked out (not that he even really was!!) even if he didn’t deserve everything that came after.worst quality: Envy. And I think that starts way before the love triangle does. It’s somewhat justified, because she is constantly getting one-upped and mistreated, but she still lets it totally consume her.ship them with: Edmund? Kind of? It’s not a good relationship and it would probably always crash and burn at some point, but I have feelings about the mutual love-starvation. If they could both get over the idea that they need to be loved more than anyone and actually accept the affection they desperately crave…like maybe. Also 4.2 is kind of hotbrotp them with: Regan, like I said above. I just want them to have a good relationship at sisters at some point.needs to stay away from: Lear. Please. They’re both so, so terrible to each other. Honestly imo he might be worse to her, but really they just need to cut each other off.misc. thoughts: I used to think of her as the most boring/least likable sister for a very long time but honestly the more I think about her the more I really feel for her. I joke that it’s oldest sister solidarity, but really, I think she takes the brunt of the misogyny in this play and she’s probably the loneliest character in it.

Edmund:

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang (in my head he’s like an 11/10 i wish i was exaggerating but he is the top fictional crush of all time)hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuffbest quality: Rejecting fate! Championing free will! Taking full responsibility for his life and his actions and never once shying away from it! I should have been that I am had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing!worst quality: The moral ones are very obvious but lately I’ve been thinking about his connection with Lear (despite barely interacting with him) and I think they have a lot in common. He thinks power is love, and the more love and the more power the better. And he can’t accept love if it’s moderated, or shared, or second-class, or not worth literally killing for.ship them with: Kind of Goneril for the reasons stated above. I love @princess-of-france ‘s idea of him with Cordelia too but if I’m just watching the play (not with the lens of a particular interpretation) they generally don’t interact so I tend to default to thinking about him with Goneril or Regan in the canon-verse. And yeah, I don’t think he and Regan are actually a good match at all. He and Goneril have more in common and might have something closer to love.brotp them with: EDGAR PLEASE I KNOW IT’S A MESS BUT LET THEM BE BROTHERS I’M BEGGING. (This. This is what happens when you like every single character in the younger generation with zero discretion.)needs to stay away from: Who DOESN’T he need to stay away from? Don’t let this man near anyone who holds any advantage over him and deserves to have a happy life.misc. thoughts: I just. I love him. More than is probably healthy. It takes one hell of a cast of protagonists for me to not actively root for him, and even in that case, I’m still crying like a baby over him by the time we get around to Lear’s death. Icon of bastard dick energy. One of the few characters in the canon who actually aligns with my personal (lack of) spirituality. Heartbreaking in how much he wants to be loved. Basically, I would die for him, send help.

[besthostingforwordpressredd-blog]

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[looselucy]

February

I got out of the flat before Harry came out of his room. I was trying to process how I was feeling, more than anything. Myself and Harry had put an end to things before anything even started, in the hopes of avoiding either of us feeling as down as I was doing after seeing that girl come out of his room. I didn’t even imagine I would feel the way I was, so beat, so disheartened.

It was so stupid, that I was even feeling that way. Only a month before, I had hated his guts. On top of that, I had been more than happy to say we wouldn’t go near each other in that way again. It was ridiculous to try and make sense of why I was feeling the way I was. I kind of wanted the ground to just swallow me. I had eaten the scrambled-eggs that Zayn made the two of us and then made some excuse to get out of there without trying to let on that seeing her had gotten to me. Not that he had any reason to catch onto that. Why would he expect anything? Of course I hadn’t left quite soon enough. Not before Zayn had told me all about their evening out; about them pulling girls, about him and Louis and Harry kissing a good number of people, and him being the only one of them who went home alone. Fucking fantastic. I couldn’t get out of there soon enough. I had found myself in a small cafe in the centre of town, the one I had visited with Ed the day after my mum broke the news of hers and my father’s soon to be divorce, and I had text the one person who I felt like I could actually talk to without there being serious repercussions. A weird meeting, but I have to say, I kind of warmed a little bit when I saw her walk into the cafe, with the biggest smile you had ever seen, ten times prettier than I remembered. “Hey, Ronnie!” I grinned, getting to my feet. She was ridiculously warm, everything about her. She practically bounced over to me, giving me a giant kiss on the cheek before wrapping her arms around me, like we had been friends for years, like she had missed me desperately. I was sure she had long hair the last time I saw her, but I could have been wrong, considering how drunk I was. But when she walked in that day, her hair was close to completely gone, shaved thin on the top of her head, a yellowy-blonde that suited her dark skin beautifully. Bright red lips that had probably left a nice mark on my cheek, but who cared when it was her? I barely knew the girl and I figured anyone would welcome a kiss from her. “Hey, sweetie!” She called, mid-cuddle. “How’ve you been?” “Good. Yeah, I’m okay. You?” I said as we pulled away. “Amazing. I’m gunna get a coffee and probably something else that will make me fat. You want something? They do the best brownies here.” “I’m okay, thank you. I don’t have much of an appetite.” She shrugged, silently telling me I was missing out, and then swanned over to the counter, drawing in eyes as she did. I sat myself down, pulling my phone out of my bag to see another text from Ed. Ed: Ringo is incredible! That piece... I am in awe. Me: Right? Just felt like I needed another opinion though, since I’m no musician, but isn’t she brilliant? Ed: Ridiculously so. I gave her a few tips but there wasn’t much I could say. I’ve asked her to work with me on a song I’ve had in my head and she said yes! Me: That’s so cool! You should do a gig together. Ed: That’s definitely on the cards! Before I could reply, the chair across from me scraped loudly as Ronnie sat herself down, two brownies and one cup of coffee up, tearing into the brownie as soon as she was seated, then pushing the second over to me. “Honestly, I’m oka-” “You look like you’ve been hit by a train, babe. I’ve never seen someone who looks more in need of chocolate than you do right now. Also, it’s Valentine’s Day, and we’re sat here together. Unless you’re a lesbian. Oh shit. Are you a lesbian? Is this a date?” “No!” I laughed. “Not a lesbian. Definitely not a date.” “Oh. Well that’s a relief. I would have felt like a horrible person turning you down. ANYWAY, tell me, what’s wrong?” I sunk into my chair a little, shaking my head, still kind of laughing about the lesbian debacle, which reminded me so much of the vegetarian chaos that had happened between me and Ben. “Am I that obvious?” I cringed. “Yeah.” “I hate that.” “So... Go on...” She smiled. It should have felt stranger than it did. She was a third-party, and that was helpful, but at the same time, I didn’t even know her, not really, and I was about to tell her something I didn’t feel comfortable telling anyone else. She felt trustworthy. She felt kind. And I figured this was the beginning of a friendship, why not start that by showing her that I did trust her? “I live with this guy,” I sighed. “And we didn’t get on at first, but then over reading week I stayed at his, because I had nowhere else to go. So we kind of like... kissed, and some other stuff. Then we both decided not to let anything like that happen again, which was all good. We both wanted that. But... this morning, I saw some girl walk out of his bedroom, doing the walk of shame... and it just hit me, y’know? It’s just really got to me. I just can’t figure out why.” She took a steady sip of her coffee, kind of nodding, taking in the bits and bats of information I had given her. I couldn’t have possibly told her the whole tale of myself and Harry. We would have been there for days. “Do you like him?” She asked me straight off. I had been expecting the question, but at the same time I scoffed it off, like it was completely ridiculous. “No.” I scowled. “Not as anything more than a friend.” “So, nothing has happened between you since you came back?” She didn’t seem like she believed it. “No. Well, we sleep together. In the simplest sense.” “He stays in your bed?” “Or-or I stay in his.” I mumbled. She nodded, having one more sip of her coffee as I did the same, kind of nervous about the analysis she was about to give me. She didn’t come across like the type of girl who would pussyfoot and tiptoe around a topic. “Okay. So here’s what I think.” She sat upright. “I think you’re over-complicating things for one. We’re females, and as much as we like to deny it, we get attached to people. Even if it is just a one-night stand, or a night of someone holding you, or anything like that… We hold the person who we shared that with a little bit dearer than we care to admit. I don’t think you’re like... in love with this guy, or anything. I just think you have that attachment. The jealousy bug always bites hard, with that kind of thing. I’m friends with this guy, back home, and sometimes when we’re drunk, he ends up back at mine and we cuddle until we fall asleep. It doesn’t mean anything, he’s just a friend, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get jealous when I see him with girls on a night out. Know what I mean?” A felt a weight lift from my shoulders. I kept thinking what if I did have feelings for him? How awkward things would be when I lived with him next year? If he could fuck some girl less than a week after being with me, how many people would I have to see him with whilst we lived together? I didn’t want to feel that way every single time. Her explanation made sense. Because I definitely didn’t still have feelings for Louis, not even close, but I didn’t want to hear about him kissing other people. It just came naturally, for a lot of girls, to feel jealous, to feel like it was something personal. I fell into that category girls. “You think?” I bleated. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it too much.” She mulled. “All I would recommend is that you stop sharing a bed with him. If you stop that, then it’ll be easier for you when you see him with other girls. It’s no biggy.” I nodded, completely agreeing with her, because I hadn’t even realised mine and Harry’s late night cuddles would result in me feeling as attached to him as I did. Of course that needed to stop. I quickly perked up from nowhere, slightly panicked. “Please don’t tell anyone!” I yelped. “Who would I tell?” She laughed it off. “No, I’m being serious! No one in my flat or any of my friends even know what happened between us, because they would make such a big deal out of it. I just... I need to keep it that way.” “I promise.” She cooed. She moved her hand across the table, and forced the plate with the brownie on that little bit closer to me. She was right. I bloody needed chocolate. “Thank you.” I heaved quietly. “If you’re not going to get any dick on Valentine’s Day,” She nodded. “Then you definitely need chocolate.” + + + Myself and Tally were in the showers next to each other again, and once again, Tally was going home for the weekend. We had been in there for quite a while, and it had been relatively quiet, to say we usually spent the entire time chatting. Things were weird, especially since my run in with her now ex-boyfriend. I hadn’t even told her about the house yet. Maybe it was time. It was definitely time. “I didn’t thank you.” She gulped out of nowhere. “For what you did with Jay, the other day.” “Don’t mention it.” I said, rinsing through my hair. “I can’t even imagine how impossible it would have been for you to do something.” “I know. I do appreciate you taking the step I couldn’t.” She passed over the shower-gel she had bought a couple of days before, having promised to let me try it, with the guarantee it wouldn’t make my nipples tingle. “Thanks.” I grabbed hold of the bottle. “It’s just scary isn’t it, how people can fall into that kinda thing?” “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I imagine my case was pretty tame, too. It’s scary.” I mumbled my agreement, and then we went back to being quiet. I wanted to tell her about how I would be living with Zayn and Harry the next year, but I didn’t know how to begin, how to break it to her. I thought maybe it would be best to be blunt. “I-I know where I’m living next year.” She didn’t say anything. The water was louder than it had ever been before. It sounded like a torrential downpour. I almost half expected to hear a crash of lighting, to see the bolt of light. I stood still, just looking down, waiting for her to say something. I was sure it got colder in there. “Oh.” She said numbly. “Yeah...” Back to silence. I started moving again, using the gel she had given me and squeezing it onto my sponge, before washing myself, waiting for her to say something. I wasn’t like she hadn’t caught on, she knew what was happening. “With who?” She asked hesitantly. “With Harry and Zayn.” “Oh. Wow... You really are good friends now, huh?” I caught as much water as I could in my cupped hands before slapping it over my face, then looking up to the bright lights in the ceiling above us. “I guess so.” I uttered. “Pip, I don’t want you to think-” Tally was cut short by the noise of the door opening. “UMM WE’RE IN HERE!” “OH SHIT!” We heard Mike cry. “SORRY, LADIES!” We were left alone again, like it wasn’t awkward enough, and then within seconds I heard Tally turn her shower off and get out. I followed as swiftly as I could, grabbing the gel she had let me borrow to give back to her once I was out. She was stood waiting for me, arms folded. “I don’t want you to feel badly.” She told me as I wrapped my towel tight around my body. “I know we’re friends, but we’re not best friends, are we? I didn’t think we’d live together next year, to be honest. I just... I didn’t think you’d live with Harry either.” I was reminded of one of the reasons I liked Tally. She would sigh, and roll her eyes, and not shy away when she didn’t like something. But she wasn’t like me, she wouldn’t protest, or throw a strop, she would just accept it. It was an admirable characteristic of hers, one I hadn’t seen in many people. It clearly wasn’t the best news she had ever had, but she knew that her being upset or angered about it, wouldn’t get her anywhere. Nobody could accept a situation for how it was quite as easily as Tally could. Even when she hated it. “I just didn’t know how to tell you.” I felt like I was going to cry, for some reason. “Don’t worry about me!” She assured. “There are some girls on my course who asked me to look with them anyway. Just don’t bullshit me, woman.” “I’m sorry!” “Don’t be, it’s fine. We’re always gunna be fine, me and you. You’re the first friend I made here! My mum told me those are the friendships that last.” She smiled kindly. I giggled down to the floor, feeling a little cold now, ready for an interesting Friday night spent revising and oversleeping. “My mum told me the same thing.” I revealed. She wasn’t my best friend, but she was a good friend, and had been since day one. We were similar, we had similar interests and traits. I might not be living with her, but I couldn’t imagine us growing further apart. + + + I lay revising on Zayn’s bed as he sat sketching at his desk. He had told me that Harry had gone for a run earlier, and he hadn’t seen him since. I was glad I hadn’t bumped into him quite yet. I felt better after my chat with Ronnie, but I still wasn’t too sure how I would actually react when I was in his company again, and I definitely wasn’t eager to find out. I flicked a page, enjoying the soothing sounds of The Beatles, always liking the fact that me and Zayn could sit in silence like that, with him doing his work and me doing mine. Neither of us were the type of people who liked being on our own. I put it down to growing up with siblings. His phone pinged again, like it had been doing all evening. “That a girl?” I cocked my brows and kicked his back from my position on his bed. “I wish.” He grinned. “It’ Louis. Gunna go round to his in a bit. Friday night weed treat. You got any plans?” “To go to bed.” “Exciting.” He turned around with a fake grin on his mouth. “You’re telling me!” He shook his head and then went back to his picture. I glanced over his shoulder, and it seemed like he was sketching a girl, her naked body with marks and art all over her skin, like tattoos. She had a cracking pair of tits on her, too. I went back to reading for a while, close to nodding off, really. Zayn had fairy lights attached to his roof, completely ignoring the fire meeting we had in our first week at university, when they told us that was one of the top things not to do. Then thanks to the music, and how relaxed we were, and then reading, I credit myself for not falling asleep there and then. “Hey, I was thinking.” Zayn prompted. “Are you gunna invite Grace for yours and Harry’s birthday do?” “I didn’t even think! I should, shouldn’t I?” “Definitely! I miss that girl.” “Me too! I’ll invite her.” I checked the time. “Okay. I’m gunna scoot back to my room. Have fun with Louis tonight. And be safe.” “Of course.” I gave him a kiss on the top of his head before I moseyed back to my own room, my book still in hand, but I definitely wasn’t in the mood to carry on revising. It would probably be a decision I regretted when my exam came around, but in that moment, I felt I had done enough reading for one evening. After a quick visit to the bathrooms to brush my teeth, I head back towards my room, knowing that I would probably end up watching a Disney film, because how else was I supposed to spend my Friday nights, being an 18 year old student? But as soon as I was sat down on my bed, something took my from my plans. There was a knocking on my wall. Three gentle knocks. I stared at the concrete with little to no breathing, my hands shaking straight away, surprised when he knocked again within a matter of seconds. I wanted to, but I couldn’t ignore him. He obviously knew I was in there, and he obviously wanted me for something. I also couldn’t ignore him because then he would know something was wrong, and he would start acting with me the way he did with Tally, and I couldn’t think of anything worse. I’d rather pretend everything was fine that lose him altogether. He knocked again. Before leaving my room, I checked my appearance in the mirror, slightly disappointed with myself entirely, but I would have to do. I lived with him, for god sake. He had definitely seen me worse. I opened my door and poked my head out, knowing Ringo and Zayn were in, but that was it, yet I really didn’t want to be seen sneaking into Harry’s room like we had something to hide. I rushed from my room to the next, feeling nervous as soon as I was in Harry’s room, closing the door gently behind myself. “Hey!” He beamed happily. I turned around, to see him sat sideways on the single bed, legs dangling off the edge, his body propped up against the wall, with his Fleetwood Mac poster above his head. “Evening.” I greeted. He had photographs in his hand, which he then held out for me excitedly, ushering me to go and take a closer look. Without saying anything, I moved his way, my heart in my throat though I was trying to act like I didn’t have a heart at all, because it was the last thing I needed was Harry to see, since it had been such a wreck all day. I sat down next to him, with a little more distance than I would have done the evening before, and gently took the pictures from his hand. My eyes went wide. “S’you.” Harry nodded quietly. They were the pictures he had taken in his home, with the galaxy he painted on my back, against the wall in their hallway in the middle of the night. I scanned through them, trying to look past the fact that it was me I was looking at, and just enjoy the photos for what they were. “It is.” I shivered. “That’s my favourite.” Harry said as I reached the last one It was the last one he had taken that evening. I was practically facing the camera, my eyes catching the lens, my mouth slightly dropped. I looked seriously intense, like I actually knew what I was doing, staring down that lens like I was completely in charge. “I look weird.” I cringed. “You look fucking brilliant.” Harry contended. “So much so, I got a first.” “You did?” I turned to face him with glee in my voice. “Yeah! So, thank you.” “That’s not down to me. They’re your photos.” “Yeah but, without you it’s just a wall, isn’t it?” I gulped hard, and I noticed the pictures had begun shaking in my hands. I realised then, that I was one of those people who needed time to get over things. I had been ignoring the whole thing with my parents, because I still wasn’t over it. Then, on top of that, I was still reeling in the way Harry had touched me, and the thought of him doing that with someone else. I hadn’t had enough time to process any of it yet. “Well, I better go.” I said as I raised to my feet. “You got plans?” He asked me, a sad little look on his face. “Umm, no.” I mumbled, looking down to him. “Well... Stay. Watch a film or something.” “I’m pretty tired.” His brows dropped, and he looked me up and down as I started backing out of the room, shrugging my shoulders, smiling awkwardly. “Have I done something wrong?” He quizzed. I wanted to say yes, but in the grand scheme of it all, Harry had done absolutely nothing wrong, whether it had gotten to me or not. Seeing the sad look that laced his features was genuinely making me feel worse. “No,” I sighed. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” “Okay... well... I’ve been wanting to watch Monsters Inc all day, so are you gunna join me or what?” I couldn’t think of a good enough reason to say no. I also figured it was best to take this head on. I wasn’t going to avoid him forever, over something so seemingly mundane. I would have to get over it, because it certainly wouldn’t be the last time I saw something like that. “Okay.” I sputtered. “I can’t say no to Monsters Inc.” “I know you can’t.” He grinned, getting up to his feet. “You want a brew?” “Okay.” “Okay...” I could tell Harry was getting confused by the way I was acting around him. “Well… you set everything up then.” He stared at me, confused, but didn’t say anything as he walked out of his room to prepare our drinks, whereas I began to search through the DVD collection on the shelf above the tele on his wall. A fine collection, to say the least, and they were just the ones he had brought to uni with him. The one in his actual home was even more impressive. When Harry was back in his room, he was once again giving me the most bizarre look, a giant mug in each hand. “What are you doing?” He baffled. “What?” “We’re having cuddles. We always have cuddles.” I was sat upright on his bed, like he had been when I first walked in. I hadn’t really been considering cuddles. “I also thought we decided not to do that.” I tried. “When?” He placed the mugs on the floor. “Monday night, when you crawled into bed with me. We said that would be the last time.” “Well... it wasn’t, was it?” “No, but... maybe it should have been.” He sat next to me, still staring at me like he thought I was going completely mad. Once again, I was doing a terrible job of hiding how I actually felt, despite my efforts. “Why are you acting so weird?” He choked. “I’m not!” “Then cuddle me!” He demanded. There was no point arguing with the little fucker. If Harry Styles was anything, he was persistent. He liked to get his own way. A blatant only child. As quickly as I could, I lay down, not wanting to get under the sheets because that would have been the only thing that made things worse for me. But as soon as we were lay together, as soon as I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, Monsters Inc on, Harry’s arm slowly snaking around my waist when he tucked me back so I was closer to him, I realised I was more than happy to be there. I liked being there. Ronnie’s words played over in my mind. I knew I shouldn’t have been doing it, it couldn’t have really been helping. But at the time I felt better, and that was enough. However, I still wasn’t quite being myself. It was time to try. “How was last night?” I decided to ask, for some reason. “Alright. It was... weird.” I had a feeling I was about to hear more than I wanted to, but I couldn’t cut the conversation there. On top of that, I was slightly intrigued, the nosy part of me getting the upper-hand. “Why was it weird?” “Oh god… I can’t.” He flopped onto his back and covered his face with his giant hands, laughing and cringing and writhing and shaking his head. I turned so my back was to the tele and I could look at him properly, giggling before I even knew what he was talking about. “What?” I poked at his cheek, feeling like I had kept my hands to myself for long enough. “I can’t tell you!” “Well you have to now!” I pulled his hands off his face, so he twisted his neck to he was facing the wall, laughing at himself, unable to look at me. I dragged at his cheek so he was looking at me again, keeping my palm flat against his skin even when he was looking back into my eyes. “Okay.” He cleared his throat after a while, so I moved my hand. “So we were with some girls last night, and then I ended up bringing this one girl back here and... Oh god...” “You fucked her?” “Umm... Well, I would have... if I could... have.” I was obviously feeling pretty slow that day, because I did not catch on. I did not understand where he was coming from. That definitely made it worse for Harry, too. He did not want to say it out loud. “What?” I wondered. “I... For fuck sake, Pip-Squeak. I couldn’t get hard, alright?” I slapped my hand over my mouth, a mixture of being completely confused and dumbfounded by what he had just told me, amused, and also, kind of relieved. “Are you serious?” I gawped. “I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.” He laughed. I didn’t want to laugh in his face, but I couldn’t help it. The best part was, he didn’t seem to care too much. He wasn’t upset by it, or anything, so of course he laughed along with me, and of course he did that at the same time as trying to push me off the bed. “I can’t believe you couldn’t get hard!” I howled. “Stop laughing at my misery!” Harry pulled me in to him when I began falling off the bed, not letting that happen, pulling me close to him again as I threw my head back, still laughing at him as his laughter died down. It was so funny to me. Not just because I was relieved, but because of the type of boy Harry was, and how I knew it would have hurt his pride. I kind of liked that. I also liked that he’d been comfortable enough to tell me in the first place. I was trying to know where we stood, and he was helping me to do that. He was helping remind me that we were just friends. His hands found their way into the back of my messy hair as he watched me with the smallest smile on his face as my laughter began to slowly calm, his other hand on the bottom of my back, and I could feel him pulling me in, I could feel the front of my body beginning to press into him. As soon as I looked back up to him, he pressed his lips against mine, like it was the most natural instinct he had, his fingers gripping my head, possessive, perilous. I pulled away almost immediately, even though I didn’t really want to. “What are doing?” I whispered desperately. “What I want.” He grunted, moving back in. His tongue was inside my mouth, and I was moaning against the plump feeling of his ridiculously tempting lips before I could even consider saying no to him. I had barely gotten a chance to breathe, to inhale the mere idea of having him on me again, and there he was, his tongue against mine, his hips thrusting up to mine and his fingers gripping onto me so tightly he could have been bruising me with his print. The idea of us, and what we meant to one another, became hazy once more. “You can’t always do what you want.” I panted once he took his lips to my jaw. ”But I want you.” He groaned, moving so he was on top of me, in between my legs, grinding into me. “You make me hard. You don’t even fucking try. Fuck…” He moved and kissed at my neck. My back arched off the bed as both his hands tightened to my waist, kissing and nibbling up to my ear, panting and groaning. He was there in the moment, so caught up in me. Harry was an expert at making me feel wanted, making me feel desired. “We can’t keep doing this.” I whined up to the roof. “This is the last time, Pip.” He bit at my earlobe. “I just need you now.” “We didn’t even last a week.” I grinned through the pleasure. “Well I’m still stuck on you.” The sound of a door opening in the corridor brought us to an abrupt halt, Harry hovering his lips a mere inch from mine, both of us panting as quietly as we physically could as Zayn let himself out of our halls to go and get high with Louis. “Fuck.” I gasped as the front door shut. I then leaned in and bit at his bottom lip slowly, keeping my eyes on his the entire time as I pulled the skin away from his face, ignoring all my instincts, ignoring every sensible part of my mind, and just being there in the moment, and admitting how much I had craved him since Sunday evening. “The fact that this is a secret makes it so much harder to stay away from you.” He groaned once his lip was free. “Like it’s… taboo.” He was right. Part of the reason we were doing that was because it was hot doing it, it was mischievous and sneaky and it was almost like it was wrong. It just made the whole idea of us being like this so much more appealing. We repeated what had happened in his home. Harry used his hands and kissed me until my lips were inflated, but that was it. We somehow managed to keep it at that. I hadn’t even touched Harry’s swollen member other than through his tight jeans. But it didn’t matter, Harry seemed satisfied enough with leaving me wet and reeling. He didn’t even hint at the fact he wanted me to return the favour, unlike most boys I’d been with. I figured he was a giver, which made his appeal all the more enticing. It was taboo. It was a secret. But most importantly, it was ours. That made it almost impossible to leave behind.

[our-mrs-saku-love]

Buy a Camry XSE V6 or Buy This: 2020 Audi A3 Premium 45 TFSI Quattro

More of our premium-meets-mainstream automotive lunacy.

Last week, we compared the Mercedes-Benz A220 to the Toyota Camry XLE V6, and most of you thought I'd lost my mind. I (pre-) explained why I hadn't, but of course the social media reaction was predictably short on folks who had read beyond the headline. So, for those of you who do manage to actually read an article before forming an opinion about it, I offer up an even more affordable take on making the step from a premium mainstream car to a mainstream premium car in the form of the 2020 Audi A3 Premium 45 TFSI quattro S-tronic. For those of you reacting on social media without having read even this far: Yawn. Uninformed opinions are so 2016.

You know the drill: To the specs!

Camry XSE V6 Vs. Audi A3 Premium 45 TFSI: Where The Audi Comes Up Short The first thing you'll probably notice is that there are no extra options added to either car's base price for their respective trim levels. In the case of the 2020 Toyota Camry, the XSE V6 already has a lot of optional-for-lower-tier-models equipment as standard; ticking the available options boxes would have increased the price well above that of the A3, and we're trying to keep things at less than $40,000. In the 2020 A3's case, the upgrade to the 45 TFSI trim level, which brings with it quattro all-wheel drive, put the price just about on par with the top-level Camry's, so I decided to keep it even-steven and just go with each vehicle's standard specification.

As with the Mercedes A220, the Camry seems to handily trounce the A3 if you're only looking at power figures, but this time the Audi out-scoots the Toyota thanks to its combination of turbo torque and quattro all-wheel drive, as well as its slightly lighter curb weight, hitting 60 mph from rest in just 5.4 seconds, 0.4-second quicker than the Camry's 5.8-second time.

The Audi is more expensive, but it's only 3.8 percent more expensive. Otherwise, the Camry's only real advantage over the A3 on the spec sheet is its size—and again, the Audi A3 is closer to the Camry than the Mercedes A220 was, both in terms of interior space and trunk space. The Camry XSE V6 packs 42.1 inches of front and 38.0 inches of rear leg room into its 111.2-inch wheelbase, compared to the Audi A3 Premium's 41.2/35.1 inches of front/rear leg room on a 103.8-inch wheelbase. The A3's trunk offers a relatively generous 10.0-cubic-feet of storage, 16 percent more than the A220, but still only about two-thirds the volume of the Camry's capacious 15.1-cubic-foot trunk.

It's clear the A3 is a smaller car, but aside from rear-seat leg room and a bit of trunk space, you're really not giving up that much to the Camry in terms of daily space unless you regularly have two or more other people in your car. If you do regularly have several occupants, it's worth keeping in mind the fact the Camry scores five stars across the board in NHTSA crash testing, while the 2020 A3 scores a five-star overall rating, but with four-star frontal-offset and rollover-crash results.

Camry XSE V6 Vs. Audi A3 Premium 45 TFSI Spec Sheet Quick Facts The Camry is roomier than the A3, especially in the rear seat The Camry can hold more stuff than the A3 The Camry is slightly less expensive than the A3 The Camry is slightly more fuel-efficient than the A3 The Camry rates higher in crash tests The A3 is somewhat quicker than the Camry The A3 is somewhat lighter than the Camry Camry XSE V6 Vs. Audi A3 Premium 45 TFSI: Where The Audi Comes Out On Top As with the Mercedes, aside from size, the Audi comes out on top in pretty much every other category, most notably in terms of interior design and styling. The Camry's no penalty box—quite the contrary, actually; it's a reasonably good-looking, nicely trimmed space—but there's no doubt you're driving a Toyota, however nice. In the A3, you get a taste of how the few-percenters live, with many of the same styling cues and details found in Audi's $60,000-and-up offerings. The only downside to the A3's design, really, is that the next A3, due to arrive in the U.S. sometime next year, looks even better.

Without adding any extras, the A3 Premium (the base trim in Audi parlance; the step-up variant is the Premium Plus) as equipped in 45 TFSI guise includes aluminum interior trim, heated front seats with leather seating surfaces throughout the cabin, with eight-way adjustability (plus four lumbar adjustments) for the driver. The Camry's front seats both offer eight-way adjustability, and the XSE V6 trim includes leather trim and heating for the front seats, too.

The Camry XSE V6, perhaps surprisingly, does not include navigation among its standard features (it can be had for $2,790 as part of the Driver Assist Package with Options), but it does include both Apple CarPlay and Android Auto, so that's essentially a moot point—and doubly so, because the A3 takes the same approach. Both come with good-sized displays, the Camry XSE V6 using an 8.0-inch display as the interface to the nine-speaker JBL Audio Plus with ClariFi system, which includes Bluetooth audio and handsfree functions as well as AM/FM/HD Radio/CD and SiriusXM, one USB media port, two USB charge ports, and voice recognition.

The A3 Premium's standard tech kit includes a 7.0-inch display and MMI Radio interface, with HD Radio and the aforementioned Apple CarPlay and Android Auto compatibility, but since I didn't opt for the Premium Plus trim, this A3 misses out on the 14-speaker Bang & Olufsen audio system, but makes do just fine with its standard 10-speaker system. Overall, the electronics advantage you might expect the Audi to have is not really there; most of the A3's more "wow" features (like Virtual Cockpit and advanced driver-assist tech) are part of the $3,000-dearer Premium Plus's realm or optional packages. One thing the Camry has that the A3 doesn't at this price point is a 10-inch head-up display (HUD), which can be a great help in maintaining alertness while knowing where you're going and what's going on in the car.

As closely matched as these cars are on features, the behind-the-wheel driving experience is worlds apart. It's not so much that the A3 has immaculate at-the-limit driving dynamics; it doesn't. But it does have a very sweetly tuned suspension and a rigid chassis that communicate a classical Europeanness in ride and handling. For some of America's more neglected roads, however, the Camry's somewhat plusher ride may be preferable. Neither will let you down in a quick merge or two-lane pass, as both are more athletic than you might think, and are plenty powerful for their (different) sizes. The Audi, however, will inspire more confidence in slippery conditions, thanks to its standard quattro all-wheel drive. The Camry is available with all-wheel drive, but not when paired with the V-6 engine. ufa.bet

2020 Toyota Camry XSE V6 Vs. 2020 Audi A3 Premium 45 TFSI Quattro: Overall Value This match, to my eye, is a much closer one than the Mercedes A220 vs. Camry XLE battle, but that may just be my bias showing through. If this showdown were held next year, I'd expect the rather stunning new A3 to start any feature or performance comparison with a commanding lead over the Toyota on the strength of its design alone. But this year, as we say goodbye to the present A3, it's a much tougher call. The 2020 Toyota Camry XSE V6 represents a tremendous value in terms of feature set, technology, and power. But the whole premise of this Buy a Camry or … series is that the Camry, while commendable, is commonplace. The 2020 Audi A3, while it may be the least-expensive Audi, still isn't so popular as to be seen filling whole rows of parking lots, and it's a sharp little sedan even today. For the style-conscious who don't need a ton of extra space, the Audi A3 is a nice doorway into the world of much more expensive cars at the cost of a Camry.

2020 Toyota Camry XSE V6 Vs. 2020 Audi A3 Premium 45 TFSI Subjective Quick Take The A3's interior and exterior design are more "premium-feeling" than the Camry's The A3's technology and equipment are evenly matched with the Camry's The A3's ride and handling are somewhat sportier than the Camry's The A3 may soon look dated with a new model on the way The Camry is a tremendous value The A3 remains a great choice for those who don't want to see their car coming and going Camry has a 10-inch HUD, A3 doesn't have a HUD

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[ltcol-laurens]

Laurens-Hamilton letters

All this can be found here and this is just a list of quotes from letters between 1778 and 1782 between John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton at what could be hinting at a relationship between the two. I hope this is helpful.

First: ‘We have the Honour to be  Sir  Your most Obedt Servts     A Hamilton    John Laurens’  - They wrote a letter together that’s just cute.

From JL, 5th Dec 1778 ‘My Dear Hamilton...Adieu, my dear boy. I shall set out for camp tomorrow.’ 

The best letter of all time, From AH April 1779: ‘Cold in my professions, warm in {my} friendships, I wish my Dear Laurens, it m{ight} be in my power, by action rather than words, {to} convince you that I love you. I shall only tell you that ‘till you bade us Adieu, I hardly knew the value you had taught my heart to set upon you. Indeed, my friend, it was not well done. You know the opinion I entertain of mankind, and how much it is my desire to preserve myself free from particular attachments, and to keep my happiness independent on the caprice of others. You sh⟨ould⟩ not have taken advantage of my sensibility to ste⟨al⟩ into my affections without my consent. But as you have done it and as we are generally indulgent to those we love, I shall not scruple to pardon the fraud you have committed, on condition that for my sake, if not for your own, you will always continue to merit the partiality, which you have so artfully instilled into ⟨me⟩.’ 

From the same letter: ‘my Dear J’ - that’s cute.

From the same April 1779 letter: ‘ I anticipate by sympathy the pleasure you must feel from the sweet converse of your dearer self in the inclosed letters. I hope they may be recent. They were brought out of New York by General Thompson11 delivered to him there by a Mrs. Moore not long from England, soi-disante parente de Madame votre épouse. She speaks of a daughter of yours, well when she left England,12 perhaps ⟨– – –⟩. ‘ There’s an explanation for this: Hamilton was asked to deliver a letter from Martha Manning to Laurens so he found out that Laurens was not only married but also had a daughter. They’d already known each other for around a year and a half at that point.

Hamilton proceeds to seemingly ask John to find him a wife whilst he’s in South Carolina:  ‘And Now my Dear as we are upon the subject of wife, I empower and command you to get me one in Carolina. Such a wife as I want will, I know, be difficult to be found, but if you succeed, it will be the stronger proof of your zeal and dexterity. Take her description—She must be young, handsome (I lay most stress upon a good shape) sensible (a little learning will do), well bred (but she must have an aversion to the word ton) chaste and tender (I am an enthusiast in my notions of fidelity and fondness) of some good nature, a great deal of generosity (she must neither love money nor scolding, for I dislike equally a termagent and an œconomist).’ 

However it was just an excuse to put in as many innuendos and that famous ‘nose’ line: ‘ If you should not readily meet with a lady that you think answers my description you can only advertise in the public papers and doub[t]less you will hear of many competitors for most of the qualifications required, who will be glad to become candidates for such a prize as I am. To excite their emulation, it will be necessary for you to give an account of the lover—his size, make, quality of mind and body, achievements, expectations, fortune, &c. In drawing my picture, you will no doubt be civil to your friend; mind you do justice to the length of my nose and don’t forget, that I ⟨– – – – –⟩. ‘ - The word ‘friend’ seems to be teasing about how far from friends they are which is further consolidated with the ‘nose’ and infamous scratched out words which I believe that mystery has been solved  and it possibly says: ‘never spared you of pictures‘ so it now reads: ‘...mind you do justice to the length of my nose and don’t forget, that I never spared you of pictures.’ I think the pure fact that JCH felt the need to cross that out shows that he interpreted it as sexual because if he thought that they were just friends and it was, as Massey puts it, ‘bawdy humour’ then why would JCH feel the need to cross it out? Really John Church is just confirming what we already knew - that Hamilton and Laurens were M O R E T H A N F R I E N D S. And that’s from a 18/19th Century homophobe (most likely). Also JCH met his Alexander (I know he died soon into John’s life but still they met) so will understand his father more than any historian and is therefore one of the most reliable sources.  

‘ NB You will be pleased to recollect in your negotiations that I have no invincible antipathy to the maidenly beauties & that I am willing to take the trouble of them upon myself.‘ - Hamilton underline ‘NB’ (nota bene/note well and the underlining of ‘maidenly beauties’ and ‘trouble’ seems to suggest some sort of sexual innuendo ... with Laurens. He could be possibly reminding Laurens of a similar experience they shared. ‘Maidenly beauties’ seems to be referring to inexperienced women or virginity. The phrase ‘maidenly’ seems to be feminine adjective however it’s more likely to be describing purity (e.g in the case of virginity). Let’s remember how Hamilton was once played down his attraction to Eliza in a letter to Laurens so why would he be talking about female virginity. Furthermore,with Hamilton already talking about his relationship with Laurens previously in this letter this quote holds a lot more implication that he was talking about his relationship with Laurens. Another interpretation of this could be that Hamilton just wants to remind Laurens that he’s not exclusively attracted to men (as Laurens most likely was) so it’s a way to possibly make Laurens jealous as Laurens (accidentally) made Hamilton. Additionally, the word ‘trouble’ could be interpreted as pregnancy and he’s saying that despite the ‘trouble’ of the feminine body (i.e pregnancy) he’s not immune to be sexually attracted to them. Also just think how Laurens’ personal experience with women and probably the first, or one of the first times, he had sex with a woman it resulted in pregnancy and his own mother died because of pregnancy.  

Hamilton concludes with: ‘ Do I want a wife? No—I have plagues enough without desiring to add to the number that greatest of all; and if I were silly enough to do it, I should take care how I employ a proxy. ‘ So he calls marriage a plague and he explicitly states that he doesn’t want a wife.

‘Did I mean to show my wit?’ - ‘Wit’ = 18c for penis

From Laurens, 14th July 1779: ‘ Ternant will relate to you how many violent struggles I have had between duty and inclination—how much my heart was with you...’ And he ends with ‘yours ever John Laurens’ so pretty effusive for Laurens.

From Hamilton 11th September 1779. There’s a bit of a gap here which Hamilton actually talks about: ‘ I acknowlege but one letter from you, since you left us, of the 14th of July which just arrived in time to appease a violent conflict between my friendship and my pride. I have written you five or six letters since you left Philadelphia and I should have written you more had you made proper return. But like a jealous lover, when I thought you slighted my caresses, my affection was alarmed and my vanity piqued. I had almost resolved to lavish no more of them upon you and to reject you as an inconstant and an ungrateful ——.2 But you have now disarmed my resentment and by a single mark of attention made up the quarrel. You must at least allow me a large stock of good nature.‘ Most notable in this paragraph is Hamilton’s uses the phrase ‘jealous lover’. He ends on a more formal note: ‘Adieu  Yrs most sincerely A Hamilton’

From Laurens 12th December 1779: ‘Present my Respects and Love to our excellent General and the family; may you enjoy all the pleasure moral and physical which you promise yourself in winter quarters; and be as happy as you deserve.Yours ever John Laurens’

From Laurens 18th December 1779, Laurens uses the phrase: ‘ χαλου χαι αγαθου’ which is Greek ‘kalos kai agathos’ and cannot be translated directly into English and it has various meanings discussed by @john-laurens here who does a great job of explaining what it means. He ends on ‘My Love as usual. Adieu John Laurens.’

From Hamilton 8th January 1780: 

Laurens used ‘dear boy’ several times e.g. here compared to a letter to his wife: ‘...and say dear Girl...’ so he used to same term to describe his affection towards his wife to describe his affection towards Hamilton. 

From Hamilton to Laurens 30th March 1780: ‘Adieu my Dear; I am sure you will exert yourself to save your country; but do not unnecessarily risk one of its most valuable sons. Take as much care of yourself as you ought for the public sake and for the sake of Yr. Affectionate A. Hamilton.’ 

 From Hamilton to Laurens 30th June 1780: ‘ Have you not heard that I am on the point of becoming a benedict? I confess my sins. I am guilty. Next fall completes my doom.‘      I might be looking too much into this but it sounds like he’s trying to assure Laurens (who was a POW at this point) that he hasn’t completely forgotten about him and it’s a strange way to put it if he’s truly happy about the wedding: ‘Next fall completes my doom’. Hamilton goes on to say (about Eliza): ‘ She is a good hearted girl who I am sure will never play the termagant; though not a genius she has good sense enough to be agreeable, and though not a beauty, she has fine black eyes—is rather handsome and has every other requisite of the exterior to make a lover happy.‘  This doesn’t sound like he holds the highest opinion of Eliza which contrasts to how he wrote in letters to Eliza, for example: ‘ My good, my tender, my fond, my excellent Betsy, Adieu.‘, ‘my angel’, ‘ I kiss you a thousand times‘ and ‘ I shall be miserable if I do not hear once a week from you and my precious infant. You both grow dearer to me every day. I would give the world for a kiss from either of you.’ (Bear in mind the last few quotes are after Laurens died) so either he’s making Eliza seem worse than she is to Laurens as they have a thing between them and Laurens wasn’t having the easiest time being a POW as the Americans had just suffered a defeat in South Carolina, he’s exaggerating his feelings to Eliza or a bit of both. 

H to L, 12th Sept 1780: ‘my Laurens’ (bit possessive gee!) and ‘I hate Congress—I hate the army—I hate the world—I hate myself. The whole is a mass of fools and knaves; I could almost except you and Meade. Adieu A Hamilton’ He’s in that I-hate-everything-in-the-world-except-Laurens-mood - I think we’ve all been there to be honest. I think this is the letter where Hamilton had just been denied a position in the south with Laurens although I could be wrong. He finishes with ‘My ravings are for your own bosom.’ So basically he misses his boy. 

H to L, 16th September 1780: H asks L to do something for his sake: ‘ for my sake’, ‘ In spite of Schuylers black eyes, I have still a part for the public and another for you; so your impatience to have me married is misplaced; a strange cure by the way, as if after matrimony I was to be less devoted than I am now.‘ God there’s so much to say about this. Firstly, Laurens believes that marriage is a ‘cure’ and that raises the question of a ‘cure’ for what exactly? It also shows how Laurens views Hamilton’s feelings towards him because bisexuality and human sexuality in general wasn’t understood as well as it is now so Laurens believes that Hamilton can’t love Eliza and him simultaneously and Hamilton seems to have a better understanding of sexuality, or at least of his own feelings towards Laurens, so he says ‘as if matrimony I was to be less devoted than I am now’ I could be wrong but that sounds like ‘Even when I’m married I’ll still have these feelings for you.’ Then we get to the end of this letter where Hamilton seemingly invites Laurens to a threesome on his wedding night, but Laurens was stuck in Pennsylvania:  ‘I wish you were at liberty to transgress the bounds of Pensylvania. I would invite you after the fall to Albany to be witness to the final consummation. My Mistress is a good girl, and already loves you because I have told her you are a clever fellow and my friend; but mind, she loves you a l’americaine not a la françoise.‘ It makes me think about how Hamilton goes around talking about how great Laurens is - someone he could’ve been romantically involved with - to his future wife Eliza. Also the Founders Archive website puts the words and phrases I put in italics in italics on the website so I guess Hamilton underlined them so he really wanted Laurens to see the ‘final consummation’ and the other parts that are all quite suggestive. ‘She loves you a l’americaine not a la françoise’ means how French people are more open with their sexuality and Americans are more prudish and sexually reserved so Eliza wouldn’t be down for a threesome on her wedding night with two guys which seems reasonable to me. 

Interestingly there are a few more letters from Hamilton that are less romantic and more military as his first child Philip had just been born and there could’ve been a possible rekindling between Laurens and Kinloch although it seems unlikely. I just think something must’ve happened from the threesome thing to being strictly professional.

Then in July 1782 Laurens wrote a letter that apart from a few things such as this and talking about his black regiment etc doesn’t seem to be of much significance until you realise that on the bottom of the founders archive page here it says that there is at least a paragraph missing from that letter because it has no ending to the letter. However there is a printed extract of a letter that Laurens wrote to Hamilton but there is no date JCH just put ‘Hamilton replied on the 15th August’ and it finishes: ‘ Adieu, my dear friend; while circumstances place so great a distance between us, I entreat you not to withdraw the consolation of your letters. You know the unalterable sentiments of your affectionate Laurens.’ which as we can see from above is quite romantic coming from Laurens and he ended a similar way to his ending to Martha his wife. 

Then we get to the final letter from Hamilton to Laurens 15th August 1782: ‘ Quit your sword my friend, put on the toga, come to Congress. We know each others sentiments, our views are the same: we have fought side by side to make America free, let us hand in hand struggle to make her happy.’ and it ends ‘Yrs for ever A Hamilton’ which he used a variation of in his last letter to Eliza before he died. I don’t know about anyone else but to me that letter has a definite air of finality as if Hamilton just knows that his friend is going to go ahead and get himself killed which is terribly heartbreaking. 

[perksofwifi]

One Week With a 2020 Porsche Cayenne Turbo Coupe Has Me Rethinking Fast SUV Things

As a lead up to last year’s Best Driver’s Car, we did a Super SUV shootout. The winner, the Lamborghini Urus, went on to place ninth, ahead of the BMW M850i, but behind the Bentley Continental GT V8 at BDC. The second-place car in the Super SUV comparo was the Porsche Cayenne Turbo.

“Compared to the [winning] Urus,” I wrote, “the Cayenne Turbo feels like it’s been dipped in rubber cement.” There was a fizzing, brimming, palpable excitement to the big (though lighter) Lambo. Forget X factor, the Urus has a triple-X factor. Plus the metaphorical equivalent of sparkling lasers and angels’ trumpets blasting out of every weld. In my personal BDC ranking I had the second-ever SUV from Sant’Agata sitting in seventh. The Cayenne, by contrast, which was quick, accurate, grippy, and pretty good to drive, just felt a bit … mundane. The way previous versions of the 911 Turbo felt. Competent and confident but decidedly not the SUV with a lampshade on its head.

Since then, Porsche has launched a “coupe” version of the Cayenne called—are you sitting down?—the Cayenne Coupe. As you may have surmised, there’s a Turbo version of the Cayenne Coupe, creatively titled the Porsche Cayenne Turbo Coupe. Does this slicked-back version fix the (admittedly) pea-under-the-mattress issues I had with Porsche’s standard crazy SUV? Keep reading.

The Big Picture

You may be thinking something like, “Why does this thing even exist?” It’s a question I’ve been asking myself since I first drove the BMW X6 back in April 2008. Long story told quick, the X6 sells at about one tenth the volume of the X5, but it sells for about $5,000 more per vehicle, and the two vehicles roll off the same assembly line, so they cost essentially the same to build. BMW sells about 6,000 X6s in the U.S. per year. That extra $5K multiplied by 6,000 is $30,000,000. While the Cayenne sells at about one third the volume of the X5, the gap between the standard SUV and the Coupe version is about $8,000. That’s $8K of pure, dreamy profit and big money if the 10 percent ratio holds. Mercedes introduced this with the E-Class-based CLS. Humans will pay extra for style, no matter how questionable said style may be. As Cayennes go up in price, the gap between the regular flavor and the Coupe version drops. The top-tier Cayenne Turbo S E-Hybrid Coupe (what a great name! Not.) is only $2,500 dearer than the Cayenne Turbo S E-Hybrid. For our purposes, the Cayenne Turbo Coupe starts at $131,450, a $3,600 premium over the plain old Cayenne Turbo. That $3,600 buys you less SUV in terms of metal, rear-seat headroom, and cargo volume. But it does buy you exclusivity. $3,600 seems like a fine price to put on that! Also, as tested, this dayglo Lava Orange Turbo Coupe stickers for $158,460.

Do you get more power? No. More gears? Nope. Does the Coupe look better than the regulation Cayenne? I don’t think it does. In fact, it kinda looks like a fat Macan. All three Porsche SUVs suffer in the looks department from being forced into a tenuous visual connection to the 911. What does a front-engine, four-door SUV have to do with a rear-engine actual coupe? You ever heard the one about a camel being a racehorse designed by committee? One more thing: Whereas the X6 has always and still does look like a mutated version of the more staid X5, the Cayenne Coupe doesn’t look all that different from the normal one. It’s as subtle as a 541-horsepower SUV can get.

Well, surely there must be something different aside from style? There is! I found it buried on page 7 of the 12-page technical document Porsche sent me with the car. The rear track is 0.70 inch wider. You heard it here (probably) first, folks. And yet …

Driving Different

Human memory is a fragile thing. Watch enough procedural courtroom TV shows, and you know that eyewitnesses are particularly untrustworthy. In my mind, the Cayenne Turbo Coupe drives much differently than the Cayenne Turbo. Now, do I feel that way because the two are actually different? Or is it because of the fog of time? Or, most likely, do I like how the Coupe version drives more because I didn’t hop out of it and then climb straight into a Lamborghini Urus with an extra 100 horsepower? What’s 18mm more rear track mean, anyway?

So yeah, I love how this thing boogies. The closest analogue I can think of is the Nissan Juke-R. Remember the Juke-R? If not, here’s the crib notes. Back in 2012, someone at Nissan went AWOL and built a Juke with a GT-R powertrain stuffed into it. The reaction was so overwhelmingly positive, Nissan put it into extreme limited production—four were built at a cost of $590,000 each. Nissan followed the 485-hp Juke-R with the 600-hp Juke-R 2.0 a couple years later (production more than quadrupled to 17 units), but I never drove the sequel. I was lucky enough to have spent one afternoon with the Juke-R on an abandoned airstrip, and well, I loved it. This Cayenne Turbo Coupe is the second SUV that’s ever reminded me of that crazy pinball of an SUV. The other one is the Alfa Romeo Stelvio Quadrifoglio, which placed seventh at our 2018 Best Driver’s Car competition. The Cayenne coupe also happens to make 56 additional horsepower and 133 more lb-ft of torque than the little widebody Nissan.

On the Road

The Turbo Coupe bobs and weaves. I’m sure the three-chamber air suspension and accompanying steel springs are plenty stiff, but when you’re whipping what’s got to be 2.5 tons of fun (the standard Cayenne Turbo we weighed clocked in at 5,090 pounds) on a twisting canyon road, you get body lean. This is a point of disagreement amongst car geeks, but I like body lean. I’m not saying I’m a fan of bad damping or poorly tuned suspensions. Rather, when you enter a corner, given the choice between a super-stiff suspension that keeps the car upright (or fancy-pants 48-volt systems that artificially keep the vehicle from leaning), I prefer that the thing I’m driving lean—in a controlled manner—into a given corner. Feels better. Now, this Turbo Coupe comes packing PDCC (Porsche Dynamic Chassis Control, a $3,590 option), which uses a 48-volt system to juke (pardon me!) the active anti-roll bars. They call it anti-roll stabilization, but try as it might, PDCC is no match for physics. The Cayenne Turbo Coupe leans just lovely through corners.

Obviously, I’d prefer to be in another Porsche (911 Targa, please), as 98 percent of the time cars drive better than SUVs. That said, there are a handful of great-driving hyper SUVs out there. The magic formula has something to do with a long-travel suspension softness, Newton-defying mass management, too much power, gobs of grip, and some sort of sine qua non magic that only things so right they’re wrong possess. The Juke-R makes the cut; so too does the Stelvio QF. You better believe the Urus is on this list, as is the totally excellent BMW X6 M, the SUV that Lamborghini secretly benchmarked when developing the Urus. We can add this here Porsche Cayenne Turbo Coupe to that tiny list.

I still think I’m right, though I don’t remember the regular flavor Cayenne Turbo driving this way. I remember the 17.3-inch carbon-ceramic front rotors stopping the car effortlessly. I remember the endless tug of the twin-turbo V-8. I remember how even though the eight-speed automatic transmission is supplied by ZF and therefore isn’t Porsche’s own brilliant PDK dual-clutch, the slushbox shifts surprisingly well. But I don’t remember the regular Cayenne Turbo feeling like a gussied-up trophy truck, whereas this one totally does. I don’t remember feeling like I was driving something special. A vehicle that, when asked about by a friend with too much money, would lead me to say, “Yeah, I’d have one.” Bottom line: The Cayenne Turbo Coupe drives better than the Cayenne Turbo. At least $3,600 better.

2020 Porsche Cayenne Turbo Coupe BASE PRICE $131,450 LAYOUT Front-engine, AWD, 5-pass, 4-door SUV ENGINE 4.0L/541-hp/567-lb-ft twin-turbo DOHC 32-valve V-8 TRANSMISSION 8-speed automatic CURB WEIGHT 5,050 lb (mfr) WHEELBASE 114.0 in L x W x H 194.5 x 78.4 x 65.1 in 0-60 MPH 3.2 sec (MT est) EPA FUEL ECON 15/19/17 mpg ENERGY CONSUMPTION, CITY/HWY 225/177 kW-hrs/100 miles CO2 EMISSIONS, COMB 1.17 lb/mile ON SALE Currently

The post One Week With a 2020 Porsche Cayenne Turbo Coupe Has Me Rethinking Fast SUV Things appeared first on MotorTrend.

https://www.motortrend.com/cars/porsche/cayenne/2020/2020-porsche-cayenne-turbo-coupe-first-drive/ visto antes em https://www.motortrend.com

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One Week With a 2020 Porsche Cayenne Turbo Coupe Has Me Rethinking Fast SUV Things

As a lead up to last year’s Best Driver’s Car, we did a Super SUV shootout. The winner, the Lamborghini Urus, went on to place ninth, ahead of the BMW M850i, but behind the Bentley Continental GT V8 at BDC. The second-place car in the Super SUV comparo was the Porsche Cayenne Turbo.

“Compared to the [winning] Urus,” I wrote, “the Cayenne Turbo feels like it’s been dipped in rubber cement.” There was a fizzing, brimming, palpable excitement to the big (though lighter) Lambo. Forget X factor, the Urus has a triple-X factor. Plus the metaphorical equivalent of sparkling lasers and angels’ trumpets blasting out of every weld. In my personal BDC ranking I had the second-ever SUV from Sant’Agata sitting in seventh. The Cayenne, by contrast, which was quick, accurate, grippy, and pretty good to drive, just felt a bit … mundane. The way previous versions of the 911 Turbo felt. Competent and confident but decidedly not the SUV with a lampshade on its head.

Since then, Porsche has launched a “coupe” version of the Cayenne called—are you sitting down?—the Cayenne Coupe. As you may have surmised, there’s a Turbo version of the Cayenne Coupe, creatively titled the Porsche Cayenne Turbo Coupe. Does this slicked-back version fix the (admittedly) pea-under-the-mattress issues I had with Porsche’s standard crazy SUV? Keep reading.

The Big Picture

You may be thinking something like, “Why does this thing even exist?” It’s a question I’ve been asking myself since I first drove the BMW X6 back in April 2008. Long story told quick, the X6 sells at about one tenth the volume of the X5, but it sells for about $5,000 more per vehicle, and the two vehicles roll off the same assembly line, so they cost essentially the same to build. BMW sells about 6,000 X6s in the U.S. per year. That extra $5K multiplied by 6,000 is $30,000,000. While the Cayenne sells at about one third the volume of the X5, the gap between the standard SUV and the Coupe version is about $8,000. That’s $8K of pure, dreamy profit and big money if the 10 percent ratio holds. Mercedes introduced this with the E-Class-based CLS. Humans will pay extra for style, no matter how questionable said style may be. As Cayennes go up in price, the gap between the regular flavor and the Coupe version drops. The top-tier Cayenne Turbo S E-Hybrid Coupe (what a great name! Not.) is only $2,500 dearer than the Cayenne Turbo S E-Hybrid. For our purposes, the Cayenne Turbo Coupe starts at $131,450, a $3,600 premium over the plain old Cayenne Turbo. That $3,600 buys you less SUV in terms of metal, rear-seat headroom, and cargo volume. But it does buy you exclusivity. $3,600 seems like a fine price to put on that! Also, as tested, this dayglo Lava Orange Turbo Coupe stickers for $158,460.

Do you get more power? No. More gears? Nope. Does the Coupe look better than the regulation Cayenne? I don’t think it does. In fact, it kinda looks like a fat Macan. All three Porsche SUVs suffer in the looks department from being forced into a tenuous visual connection to the 911. What does a front-engine, four-door SUV have to do with a rear-engine actual coupe? You ever heard the one about a camel being a racehorse designed by committee? One more thing: Whereas the X6 has always and still does look like a mutated version of the more staid X5, the Cayenne Coupe doesn’t look all that different from the normal one. It’s as subtle as a 541-horsepower SUV can get.

Well, surely there must be something different aside from style? There is! I found it buried on page 7 of the 12-page technical document Porsche sent me with the car. The rear track is 0.70 inch wider. You heard it here (probably) first, folks. And yet …

Driving Different

Human memory is a fragile thing. Watch enough procedural courtroom TV shows, and you know that eyewitnesses are particularly untrustworthy. In my mind, the Cayenne Turbo Coupe drives much differently than the Cayenne Turbo. Now, do I feel that way because the two are actually different? Or is it because of the fog of time? Or, most likely, do I like how the Coupe version drives more because I didn’t hop out of it and then climb straight into a Lamborghini Urus with an extra 100 horsepower? What’s 18mm more rear track mean, anyway?

So yeah, I love how this thing boogies. The closest analogue I can think of is the Nissan Juke-R. Remember the Juke-R? If not, here’s the crib notes. Back in 2012, someone at Nissan went AWOL and built a Juke with a GT-R powertrain stuffed into it. The reaction was so overwhelmingly positive, Nissan put it into extreme limited production—four were built at a cost of $590,000 each. Nissan followed the 485-hp Juke-R with the 600-hp Juke-R 2.0 a couple years later (production more than quadrupled to 17 units), but I never drove the sequel. I was lucky enough to have spent one afternoon with the Juke-R on an abandoned airstrip, and well, I loved it. This Cayenne Turbo Coupe is the second SUV that’s ever reminded me of that crazy pinball of an SUV. The other one is the Alfa Romeo Stelvio Quadrifoglio, which placed seventh at our 2018 Best Driver’s Car competition. The Cayenne coupe also happens to make 56 additional horsepower and 133 more lb-ft of torque than the little widebody Nissan.

On the Road

The Turbo Coupe bobs and weaves. I’m sure the three-chamber air suspension and accompanying steel springs are plenty stiff, but when you’re whipping what’s got to be 2.5 tons of fun (the standard Cayenne Turbo we weighed clocked in at 5,090 pounds) on a twisting canyon road, you get body lean. This is a point of disagreement amongst car geeks, but I like body lean. I’m not saying I’m a fan of bad damping or poorly tuned suspensions. Rather, when you enter a corner, given the choice between a super-stiff suspension that keeps the car upright (or fancy-pants 48-volt systems that artificially keep the vehicle from leaning), I prefer that the thing I’m driving lean—in a controlled manner—into a given corner. Feels better. Now, this Turbo Coupe comes packing PDCC (Porsche Dynamic Chassis Control, a $3,590 option), which uses a 48-volt system to juke (pardon me!) the active anti-roll bars. They call it anti-roll stabilization, but try as it might, PDCC is no match for physics. The Cayenne Turbo Coupe leans just lovely through corners.

Obviously, I’d prefer to be in another Porsche (911 Targa, please), as 98 percent of the time cars drive better than SUVs. That said, there are a handful of great-driving hyper SUVs out there. The magic formula has something to do with a long-travel suspension softness, Newton-defying mass management, too much power, gobs of grip, and some sort of sine qua non magic that only things so right they’re wrong possess. The Juke-R makes the cut; so too does the Stelvio QF. You better believe the Urus is on this list, as is the totally excellent BMW X6 M, the SUV that Lamborghini secretly benchmarked when developing the Urus. We can add this here Porsche Cayenne Turbo Coupe to that tiny list.

I still think I’m right, though I don’t remember the regular flavor Cayenne Turbo driving this way. I remember the 17.3-inch carbon-ceramic front rotors stopping the car effortlessly. I remember the endless tug of the twin-turbo V-8. I remember how even though the eight-speed automatic transmission is supplied by ZF and therefore isn’t Porsche’s own brilliant PDK dual-clutch, the slushbox shifts surprisingly well. But I don’t remember the regular Cayenne Turbo feeling like a gussied-up trophy truck, whereas this one totally does. I don’t remember feeling like I was driving something special. A vehicle that, when asked about by a friend with too much money, would lead me to say, “Yeah, I’d have one.” Bottom line: The Cayenne Turbo Coupe drives better than the Cayenne Turbo. At least $3,600 better.

2020 Porsche Cayenne Turbo Coupe BASE PRICE $131,450 LAYOUT Front-engine, AWD, 5-pass, 4-door SUV ENGINE 4.0L/541-hp/567-lb-ft twin-turbo DOHC 32-valve V-8 TRANSMISSION 8-speed automatic CURB WEIGHT 5,050 lb (mfr) WHEELBASE 114.0 in L x W x H 194.5 x 78.4 x 65.1 in 0-60 MPH 3.2 sec (MT est) EPA FUEL ECON 15/19/17 mpg ENERGY CONSUMPTION, CITY/HWY 225/177 kW-hrs/100 miles CO2 EMISSIONS, COMB 1.17 lb/mile ON SALE Currently

The post One Week With a 2020 Porsche Cayenne Turbo Coupe Has Me Rethinking Fast SUV Things appeared first on MotorTrend.

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The Weenies Are In!

Halloween starts early at the lab, and we’re excited to present the Halloween 2017 update! It’s here! The cornerstone of this year's collection is a spirited tribute to Edgar Allan Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart," featuring numerous heart-stopping illustrations by Drew Rausch (as previewed above).

But wait! There are more collections within the Collection:  Pile of Leaves, Pumpkin Spice Whatever (It will never die!), Samhainophobia (be very afraid), and, of course, the season’s stirring Single Notes.

The 2017 Weenies, all limited editions, are all ready and waiting for you online. If you’d like to catch a whiff of the whole set—and a whole lot more—come smell us at New York Comic Con, October 5 through 8. Or send your fairy to Comic Con on a Weenie-gathering mission. 

NOW, HERE’S EVERYTHING!

ALL SOULS

A day of remembrance and intercession. Without the prayers and sacrifices of their families and loved ones, the faithful departed may not be cleansed of their venal sins, and thereby cannot attain beatific vision. On November 2nd, prayers are sung and offerings are made to aid lost souls in transcending purgatory. An incense blend that invokes the higher qualities of mercy and compassion, mingled with the soft, sugared currant scent of offertory soul cakes.

THE APPARITION

When by thy scorne, O murdresse, I am dead,And that thou thinkst thee freeFrom all solicitation from mee,Then shall my ghost come to thy bed,And thee, fain'd vestall, in worse armes shall see;Then thy sicke taper will begin to winke,And he,whose thou art then, being tyr'd before,Will, if thou stirre, or pinch to wake him, thinkeThou call'st for more,And in false sleepe will from thee shrinke,And then poore Aspen wretch, neglected thouBath'd in a cold quicksilver swear wilt lyeA veryer ghost than I;What I will say, I will not tell thee now,Lest that preserve thee; and since my love is spent,I'had rather thou shouldst painfully repent,Than by my threatenings rest still innocent.

Quicksilver-cold and heartless: white sandalwood, immortelle, zdravetz, and oudh.

APPLE BUTTER RUM

Spiced rum with cinnamon, apple butter, nutmeg, and thick vanilla cream.

CARDAMOM CREAM PUMPKIN CAKE

Thick lumps of pumpkin cake with cardamom-cream frosting and a dusting of cinnamon.

CHOCOLATE BLOOD

A sideways ode to Hitchcock’s Psycho, by way of Bosco Chocolate Syrup.

CINNAMON CHAI CUPCAKE

A cozy accompaniment on chilly autumn nights.

DAY OF THE SKULLS

In Bolivia, many people hold to the tradition of keeping the skulls of their ancestors with them in their homes, caring for their remains. It is believed that each person has seven souls, and one of those souls stays with the skull after death, enabling a spirit to grant protection and prophetic dreams to their descendants, and to bless their families with good health and prosperity.

The Bolivian Fiesta de las Natitas, or Dia de los Natitas, is a day of honor for these ancestors. Their skulls are dressed with fragrant blossoms, and offerings of cocoa leaves, alcohol, and cigarettes are made.

White sandalwood, beeswax, and frankincense crowned by hydrangea, rose, and kantuta blossoms, dressed with tobacco, cocoa leaves and flowers from the sacred Cactus of the Four Winds.

DIRGE

We do lie beneath the grass In the moonlight, in the shade  Of the yew-tree. They that pass Hear us not. We are afraid   They would envy our delight,   In our graves by glow-worm night. Come follow us, and smile as we; We sail to the rock in the ancient waves, Where the snow falls by thousands into the sea, And the drown’d and the shipwreck’d have happy graves.- Thomas Lovell Beddoes

Yew berries and cypress boughs, ropes of kelp and sea spray.

FEEDING THE DEAD

A barrel of beer, a pyramid of cakes, and three sticks of incense.

HALLOW-E’EN, 1914

"Why do you wait at your door, woman,Alone in the night?”“I am waiting for one who will come, stranger,To show him a light.He will see me afar on the roadAnd be glad at the sight.” “Have you no fear in your heart, woman,To stand there alone?There is comfort for you and kindly contentBeside the hearthstone.”But she answered, “No rest can I haveTill I welcome my own.”“Is it far he must travel to-night,This man of your heart?”“Strange lands that I know not and pitiless seasHave kept us apart,And he travels this night to his homeWithout guide, without chart.” “And has he companions to cheer him?”“Aye, many,” she said.“The candles are lighted, the hearthstones are swept,The fires glow red.We shall welcome them out of the night—Our home-coming dead.”- Winifred M. Letts

A welcome for the home-coming dead: an incense of dried ivy and maple leaf with honeyed fig, black cypress, and grave dirt.

HAUNTED SEAS

A gleaming glassy ocean  Under a sky of grey;A tide that dreams of motion,  Or moves, as the dead may;A bird that dips and wavers  Over lone waters round,Then with a cry that quavers  Is gone—a spectral sound. The brown sad sea-weed drifting  Far from the land, and lost;The faint warm fog unlifting,  The derelict long tossed,But now at rest—though haunted  By the death-scenting shark,Whose prey no more undaunted  Slips from it, spent and stark.

- Cale Young Rice

Seaspray and flecks of foam welling with opoponax and labdanum’s sepulchral moans.

IN A WHISPERING GALLERY

That whisper takes the voiceOf a Spirit, speaking to me,Close, but invisible,And throws me under a spellAt the kindling vision it brings;And for a moment I rejoice,And believe in transcendent thingsThat would make of this muddy earthA spot for the splendid birthOf everlasting lives,Whereto no night arrives;And this gaunt gray galleryA tabernacle of worthOn this drab-aired afternoon,When you can barely seeAcross its hazed lacuneIf opposite aught there beOf fleshed humanityWherewith I may commune;Or if the voice so nearBe a soul’s voice floating here.- Thomas Hardy

Marbled white iris, white tobacco flower, Italian bergamot, white leather, and Mysore sandalwood.

LA CALAVERA CATRINA

The Lady of the Graveyard! Autumn leaves, wild roses, bourbon vanilla, dry chamomile, and a bouquet of bright chrysanthemums and Mexican marigolds.

OCTOBER

Ay, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath!

When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,

And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief

And the year smiles as it draws near its death.

Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay

In the gay woods and in the golden air,

Like to a good old age released from care,

Journeying, in long serenity, away.

In such a bright, late quiet, would that I

Might wear out life like thee, 'mid bowers and brooks

And dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks,

And music of kind voices ever nigh;

And when my last sand twinkled in the glass,

Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass.

Dry, cold autumn wind. A rustle of red leaves, a touch of smoke and sap in the air.

PUMPKIN BROWNIES

Swirled with caramel and topped with sour cream frosting.

PUMPKIN CHYPRE

A gleaming auburn chypre shot through with streaks of pumpkin.

PUMPKIN SUGAR 2017

Crystallized glittering shards of lightly spiced pumpkin sugar.

SAMHAIN 2017

Truly the scent of autumn itself -- damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein.

SEPTEMBER MIDNIGHT 2017

Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer,

Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing,

Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,

Ceaseless, insistent.

The grasshopper's horn, and far-off, high in the maples,

The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence

Under a moon waning and worn, broken,

Tired with summer.

Let me remember you, voices of little insects,

Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters,

Let me remember, soon will the winter be on us,

Snow-hushed and heavy.

Over my soul murmur your mute benediction,

While I gaze, O fields that rest after harvest,

As those who part look long in the eyes they lean to,

Lest they forget them.

- Sara Teasdale

A myrrh-darkened amber chypre sweetened by newly-ripened black pomegranate.

SUGAR SKULL 2017

Vibrant with the joy and sweetness of life in death! A blend of five sugars, lightly dusted with candied fruits.

THE WITCH BRIDE 2017

A fair witch crept to a young man's side,

And he kiss'd her and took her for his bride.

But a Shape came in at the dead of night,

And fill'd the room with snowy light.

And he saw how in his arms there lay

A thing more frightful than mouth may say.

And he rose in haste, and follow'd the Shape

Till morning crown'd an eastern cape.

And he girded himself, and follow'd still

When sunset sainted the western hill.

But, mocking and thwarting, clung to his side,

Weary day!-the foul Witch-Bride.

(Aw, c'mon, Allingham. Foul is a pretty strong choice of words, dontcha think?)

Pale and lovely, with eyes belladonna-wide: hemlock blossoms and ghostly nightshade veiled by wisteria, white frankincense, black amber, and narcissus resin.

++ HALLOWEEN 2017: PILE OF LEAVES

Every leaf tells a story.

DEAD LEAVES AND SQUISHED CANDY CORN

DEAD LEAVES, HEMP, MOSSY SOIL, FRANKINCENSE AND OUDH

DEAD LEAVES, TUSCAN LEATHER, WHITE AMBER, AND MIMOSA BLOSSOM

DEAD LEAVES, PINEAPPLE, PATCHOULI, AND VETIVER

DEAD LEAVES, LEMON VERBENA, AND CEDAR

DEAD LEAVES, BOURBON, BLACK CHERRY, AND AN ORANGE TWIST

DEAD LEAVES, BLACK PLUM, BITTER CLOVE, AND OUDH

DEAD LEAVES AND PINK PEPPERCORN

DEAD LEAVES, VIOLET CANDY, AND SUGAR CRYSTALS

DEAD LEAVES, COCONUT, AND CHAMPACA BLOSSOM

++ HALLOWEEN 2017: SINGLE NOTES

Black Phoenix’s cheeky interpretation of the iconic scents of the season. No actual single notes—or hags—were harmed during the creation of these blends.

BLOOD SQUIB

BOBBING FOR APPLES

GRAVEYARD DIRT

PAPIÉR-MÂCHE GHOST

PLASTIC PUMPKIN CANDY TUB

PUMPKIN SPICE EVERYTHING

UNSETTLING CLEAR PLASTIC MASK

++ HALLOWEEN 2017: PUMPKIN SPICE WHATEVER

We’re going to keep jumpin’ that pumpkin spice shark until there’s no pumpkins left to spice. Prime motivation: this is hella funny. Illustration by Drew Rausch!

PUMPKIN SPICE CATHEDRAL

Pumpkin spiced incense smoke!

PUMPKIN SPICE OPIUM POPPY

Pumpkin spiced euphoria!

PUMPKIN SPICE EMBALMING FLUID

Pumpkin spice that funeral home!

PUMPKIN SPICE SNAKE OIL

Pumpkin spice them carnies!

PUMPKIN SPICE SHOGGOTH

Bursting bubbles of self-luminous pumpkin spice!

PUMPKIN SPICE PERVERSION

You dirty bird.

PUMPKIN SPICE HARLOT

Pumpkin spice that brothel!

++ HALLOWEEN 2017: SAMHAINOPHOBIA

A celebration of the terrors of the season.

CHIROPTOPHOBIA

Fear of Bats

A flutter of leather becomes a swarm of buffeting musks, tangled with a white flash of sandalwood and near-inaudible shrieks of eucalyptus and elemi.

COIMETROPHOBIA

Fear of Cemeteries

Upturned earth, moss-damp and thick with creeping things. A shard of mahogany from a broken casket. Creaking marble doors pushing open under moonlit skies.

HEMOPHOBIA

Fear of Blood

Crimson splatter, pulsating with blackened vetiver.

NEBULAPHOBIA

Fear of Fog

Sinuous, suffocating tendrils of grey ambergris, white frankincense, and cade.

SAMHAINOPHOBIA

Fear of Halloween

Menacing vetiver, patchouli, and clove with a shock of bourbon geranium, grim oakmoss, and dread-inspiring balsams pierce the innocuous scent of autumn leaves.

++ THE TELL-TALE HEART

Story by Edgar Allan Poe, art by Drew Rausch, scents by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab.

I HEARD MANY THINGS IN HELL

The disease had sharpened my senses -- not destroyed -- not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily -- how calmly I can tell you the whole story.

Hearken and observe: black iris, French lavender, Roman chamomile, and frankincense.

THE EYE OF A VULTURE

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture -- a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees -- very gradually -- I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.

Milky white fluid obfuscating a pale, lilac-blue iris.

YOU FANCY ME MAD

Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded -- with what caution -- with what foresight -- with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him.

Percolating with derangement: flashing spikes of orange blossom, neroli, lemon, and bitter clove in a bubbling mass of opoponax, patchouli, and thick, black vetiver.

GROAN OF MORTAL TERROR

Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief -- oh, no! -- it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well.

Opaque grey amber and opoponax swelling up like thick smoke, pressed under the weight of baleful tobacco.

THE MOURNFUL INFLUENCE OF THE UNPERCEIVED SHADOW

I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself -- "It is nothing but the wind in the chimney -- it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or "It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel -- although he neither saw nor heard -- to feel the presence of my head within the room.

Unutterable dread: thick black patchouli, shadow musk, myrrh, and threads of hot saffron mired in sweet, viscous labdanum.

And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror.

THE DEAD HOUR OF THE NIGHT

Mist-shrouded pine and moonflower creeping over flaccid opium poppies.

THE DREADFUL SILENCE OF THAT OLD HOUSE

Polished mahogany blanketed by myrrh.

STEALTHILY, STEALTHILY

When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little -- a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it -- you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily -- until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye.

It was open -- wide, wide open -- and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness -- all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones; but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot.

A dim ray upon the vulture eye: smoked violets and bulbous orris, threads of crumbling lavender, and wet iris butter.

OVER-ACUTENESS OF THE SENSE

And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense? -- now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.

Hyper-aware, swirling with delusions: orange blossom, lemon balm, and clove.

THE HELLISH TATTOO OF THE HEART

But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eve. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! -- do you mark me well I have told you that I am nervous: so I am.

Blood musk and pulsating black pepper, a throb of bitter almond, and cracked pimento.

SUSPICION OF FOUL PLAY

If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.

I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye -- not even his -- could have detected any thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out -- no stain of any kind -- no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all -- ha! ha!

When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o'clock -- still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, -- for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.

Clean wood floors, a clean tub, clean, clean, clean, with no stain of any kind, no blood-spot whatsoever.

THE WILD AUDACITY OF MY PERFECT TRIUMPH

I smiled, -- for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search -- search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.

A jubilant and deranged lime absinthe.

SINGULARLY AT EASE

The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted.

Rum cakes and black tea, blueberry scones and biscuits.

VIOLENT GESTICULATIONS

No doubt I now grew very pale; -- but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased -- and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound -- much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath --and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly -- more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone?

An erratic pomegranate mint, high-pitched and flailing with eucalyptus, above a throbbing core of black musk.

[laurifakristalina]

夜桜 - Kirigakure Saizo x MC

It ended up to need longer time that I thought... oh well, it’s still the 22nd here so Happy Birthday Saizo! I intended to make this a super angsty one but it ended up a bit fluffy and an OOC Saizo... I’m so sorry huhuhu. I got another idea I started to write about already but it’s for another Lord, so... Oh well! Nevermind that, enjoy! Sorry for errors, I rushed through this while having a headache >.<

The title is read as ‘yozakura’, or cherry blossom at night ^^

It happened just right when he started to feel like he can be happy about the day he was born. About the day that marked the birth of another assassin, foreshadowing countless deaths by his little hands. But she said that for her, it was the day where her love of her life is born. The person more important than her own life. The person she waited in worry no matter how good he is in his job, and welcomed with a relieved and happy smile plus a warm embrace every single time.

And he should’ve known, he really should have. She was a woman of her words, and would never back down from anything she decided to do, after all.

It was a particularly good day in the beginning of sakura season. And Yukimura being himself, he ordered Saizo to join him and other retainers for a hanami tonight, to drink with him until morning. Sigh… His young master never changes, and Saizo knew it was his Lord’s way to try to make him enjoy his birthday, especially after that particular event a few years back. So here he was, drinking glass after glass of sake that Yukimura poured for him without pause.

The guys were loud as usual, with the girl servants either pouring alcohol for them or gossiping and giggling over how the drunkards are acting. Of course, Yukimura being smashed was nothing unusual, but it still gave everyone a laugh, especially with sake in their body and the festive air. Sakura’s petals that dancing following the night wind id adding to the scenery, illuminated with the lanterns hanged on the sakura’s branch here and there. It’s almost a perfect night to do a hanami, especially with the moon so bright and stars can show its light without being bothered by the clouds.

Saizo glanced at Yukimura dancing in the middle of today’s party. Ahh, what a bright guy. His smile is blinding, even at night, and his laughter is infectious. What a perfect master he had, the light for his shadow. He looked at the moon reflection on his sake glass and smiled bitterly. Standing up, he swiftly jump into one of the bigger branch of the sakura tree, sipping his drink slowly, watching the storm of pink petals fluttering around before it fell on the ground.

It’s a beautiful sight. And somewhere deep in his heart, he hated it.

He remembered it like it happened yesterday, how those pink petals get stained with red. He remembered how the fresh one landed on top of the dark pool. He remembered them swirling around her, as if reminding us how transient and fragile life is, how it could end with one slash of sword.

“Just surrender yourself if you want her to keep her life.”

“Oh? Do you think I care? She’s only someone who’s favored by my Lord and given to me as a duty, after all. And what a pathetic guy they sent after me, now. Do they think I get soft just because I don’t do as much mission as I did before? Or has the standard gone down? Shame, really… I was expecting to get some fun out of this…”

“It’s the opposite, oh great Lord Assassin. We know for sure that we have your weakness, actually. Or will you actually leave her to die? Doesn’t matter for us, her life doesn’t have any value if she doesn’t mean anything to you. Her being dead or alive won’t change anything, so… should we try your words and kill her right now, right here?”

He could see the dagger pointing on her throat. Aah, what a bad timing for a hanami. He should’ve tried to refuse her, no matter how futile it is. He should just accept any mission so he didn’t have to be here. He should’ve not left her unguarded while he battled with the rest of the guys. He should have…

His sword wavered for a moment, his eyes met hers and he swore she could see his state of mind right now.

“Don’t.”

Before he could do anything, her voice reverberated through the silence.

“Never surrender your life, Saizo, or I will not forgive you. Ever.” Her eyes gazing right into his, as if to show her resolve. “Live, Saizo. Live, for Lord Yukimura and Sanada Clan. Not only survive, please, live a true life without regrets… for yourself…”

And before he could move, she twisted free and pulled a dagger from her obi, slashing the man’s throat open.

“I will kill myself before you can use me to gain advantage on him. I will end my life myself before his life taken to save mine. I will take your life and kill my own heart before I let you hurt him.”

Ah, how could he forget that his innocent, pure lady knows how to defend herself even though she never needed to before. How could he forget the dagger he gave her, even though he never intended to let her use it, ever.

And it was the first step she made into his world, into knowing the darker side of being a woman of a shinobi and samurai. Knowing the warmth of blood, also the taste and smell of iron in the air. It was the point where she left her old self to die for the sake of protecting the things she hold even dearer than her own life.

It was also a day where a boy who later be called the Lord Assassin was born, and now it also marked the day where his woman got her first taste of blood.

“Saizo, sorry for the wait! I’ve brought the dango so let’s eat them together with the others!”

Her voice pierced through his memory, pulling him out of his reverie.

Ah, he hated this day because it reminded the time he had failed and let her get dirtied with those filthy blood. He hated it because she should never know the shadow he and his world bears. He hated it because it made him realized…

“Saizo! Come on!!” 

“Sensei let’s eat~!! It’s so good! I’ll eat them all if you won’t!!”

“…So noisy… Alright, alright, now stop talking so loud you two…”

“Ah! Senseeeei it’s miiiine!! There’s still a lot left so why did you take miiiine?!!”

…that she had become so important to him that he was willing to drag her to the darkest part of his world, if it meant he could keep her by his side.

Well, just like this storm of cherry blossom still looks beautiful at night... She would surely still looks radiant to him even after drowned in his deepest darkness.

[gracieminabox]

I'm gonna go the obvious route and ask for Chril with 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, and 11

I love the obvious route. ;)

1) Who is the most affectionate?

Phil is certainly the most demonstrative. He’s usually the initiator of physical contact (though Chris tends to specifically initiate sex more). It’s a function of their upbringings: Phil had a fairly large, loving, close-knit family; Chris had a dysfunctional, distant family. When they were Just Friends™, it took Chris some time to acclimate to being on the receiving end of such affection, let alone to actually display it himself.

Now. That being said, Chris is, in many ways, addicted to touch. It’s one of the reasons he’s always been so prone to falling in love (or more appropriately, in like, or in intrigue, or in hey you’re hot) at the drop of a hat: because being in love leads to sex, which involves contact. And the only person who ever consistently gave him non-sexual physical affection was Phil.

When he and Phil got together, though, and the full range of physical affection was now open to them? Chris went the fuck to town with it. Now, in terms of affection, they’re pretty well matched.

3) Most common argument?

(Anna asked the same question, so this’ll sound familiar if you’ve read hers!)

They virtually never full-on fight. Every once in a very great while, it gets heated, but it’s quite rare and almost never about what it looks like on the surface (e.g. this is not a fight about Chris forgetting to take out the trash; this is a fight about an intern being a moron and Phil having to clean up the mess, or about Chris having a shitty pain day and having trouble pulling out of it).

But they’ll bicker like there’s no tomorrow.

Chris puts too much sugar in his coffee. Phil’s lazy about picking up his scrub tops off the floor when he misses the hamper. Chris forgot to pick up dog food on his way home. Phil bites his nails. Chris bitches about doing his PT. Phil hogs the blankets.

Pick a topic. They’ve bickered about it.

5) Who is most likely to carry the other?

Historically, Phil. On painfully repeated occasion. Phil has carried Chris back from hell far, far too many times for either of them to count.

The older they get, the more opportunities Chris has to carry Phil, though. When he loses his parents. When he’s starting to show signs of aging. When he starts getting arthritis in his hands and sometimes just holding a laser scalpel hurts and he wonders if he can still do his life’s work. Those times, Chris is there to carry him, and it feels good and right and just, because after all Phil has always done for Chris, Phil deserves to be repaid for his extraordinary generosity of spirit.

7) What’s the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

For Phil, this happens very early.

He gets an instacrush on Chris the first time he lays eyes on him, and then spends the next three years trying to talk himself out of letting that crush flower into the deep and tender affection that he knows is lurking beneath. Naturally, he fails, and before Chris graduates with his undergrad degree, Phil is certifiably, hopelessly, fitfully in love with him.

For Chris, it happens so, so much later.

Phil is his best friend, his closest confidante, dearer than a brother, and the fact that something Deeper™ has been under the surface all that time decides that it wants to hit Chris like a ton of bricks and throw his entire world off-kilter. It starts a long, long spell of insomnia for him, and a lot of who am I type questions. (Which, ordinarily, Chris is pretty good at - but these ones are decidedly less comfortable ones to answer.)

For both of them, the first thing that changes is the way they look at one another.

Eye contact. Sideways glances. Looking not just at faces, but at the way hand bones moved under the skin, the long line of a bicep, the way hair would curl at the nape of the neck.

It stabs a little pain in the heart.

(Until the night it doesn’t anymore.)

9) Who worries the most?

Phil, easily. It is Star Trek law that doctors must worry themselves stupid about their goddamn maverick captain boyfriends, and Phil is absolutely no exception to that rule. He loses considerable sleep worrying about what the hell Chris is up to at any given moment.

(Worse, that lost sleep is usually justified, because Chris gets into some considerable scrapes.)

The only way to alleviate that worry is to be by his side, ready to patch him up at any given moment. There’s a reason he tells Len this strategy.

11) Who tops?

Early on in their relationship, it’s about 60/40, Chris/Phil. It takes Chris a while to acclimate to the idea of bottoming (forty-seven years of thinking you’re straight and then realizing you’re emphatically not tends to be quite the fucking paradigm shift), which Phil is totally okay with, so that starts incredibly slowly. But they get there.

Post-Narada, everything sexual stops for a long, long while. Spinal cord injuries in adults fuck up nothing quite so much as one’s sex life, and Chris and Phil are no exception. When they do start things again, it’s virtually all non-penetrative - mostly hands, because Chris has some serious PTSD response to blowjobs, owing to having an alien insect forced down his throat. That takes a whole mess of therapy, SSRIs, and time to ease.

When they do resume penetrative stuff, it’s in roughly the same 60/40 proportions as before, but Chris is virtually never physically “on top” again - his lingering weakness and neuropathy simply won’t allow it.

[omektannou]

in honor of actually starting ayzebel’s blog take this drabble it’s not a drabble it’s four pages of anysus and ayzebel being sad and grumpy post-second punic war i wrote! it elaborates on a few headcanons and probably doesn’t make any sense, but that’s fine with me. enjoy ;-).

“I can feel it too,” Ayzebel promised. She felt her bones ache with every step and knew she had no strength left. Her mind was scatterbrained, even more than usual, completely forgetting one language or replaying phrases of Etruscan she heard in town on repeat. She either roamed the streets randomly, bumping into almost everyone, or did not leave the house at all.

The female personification raised her eyes and looked across the table. Anysus sat hunched over, quite like a lame beggar in the streets. Half of his face was hidden behind a large hand that now shook upon further inspection. The other half, his eyes, gazed at the mosaic floor with neither disappointment nor sadness—no emotional at all.

“Not as intensely as you.” She rarely talked this much, but the words tumbled out like a clumsy slave spilling stacked barrels at the port. They echoed just as loudly. “I really felt it when he came here. I didn't— I didn't think somewhere as far as Zama even affected us. Sometimes I dream I am one of the prisoners. He wasn't smart, just got lucky. They shouldn't have sued for peace.”

Not even that changed Anysus’ posture, and that opinion was one of his own. She did not have one either way, too blinded by pain to think for those few weeks.

“We’re doing fine financially already,” the girl continued, her hands folded so tightly in her lap that her tan knuckles blanched with the strain. The world would stop when Carthage didn't have money. “It doesn't seem like it, but we have enough to pay them. For now. Unlike… Unlike last time.” The war on the mercenaries had hit Ayzebel harder than the other. He’d already been in a downwards spiral of pain, and it was her first taste of it, so many years past Agathocles’ terror on the city.

“...What are we going to do?” she asked into the gloom of the dusty room, an old branch of the library she found Anysus hiding in. “What are you going to do?”

His tea was getting cold, she could see. He had not touched it. If Ayzebel had not been leaning forward, she might not have heard him at all. “I don't want to do anything at all.”

Her face, almost always without emotion, scrunched into an unreadable expression before melting away with an exhale. “We have the city. We don't have the empire,” she pointed out bluntly. “We never will if we can't raise an army. Numidia’s already started to— what a bitch. We can't do anything if we don't have a navy.”

Anysus’ voice was barely above a wheeze. “Ten.”

Her heart went out to him behind its walls, being ever rebuilt since Arria’s passing. Brick by brick, event by event. She knew the navy and the port was dearer to him than anything else, and it would be to her too if she'd been allowed. The two of them loved the sea itself equally. They had no elephants either, though most of them had died already. Anysus kept Kbiir, but in the recently empty pens under the outer wall, he looked lonely. “We still have merchants. The port is still open.” They had nothing to trade.

“Pirates,” was Anysus’ hoarse one-word answer.

“We could rely on aristocrats and privateers for their own vessels,” she insisted. “Romulus has his nose so far up patricians’ asses, he won't notice if he have more than ten war ships.” She had thought about all of this in her time alone and after the pain of Zama had subsided to a dull ache. What would happen if they lost.

The man did not have a response for that, it seemed, not even a shrug of his shoulders. He'd aged so much in seventeen short years since they last saw each other. Anysus always grew quickly as a child, and she joined his exponential growth in the sixth century, but this was different. This was wrong.

The angle brought the light to expose the depth and dark color of his undereye circles. He did not actually have wrinkles, but his face was always arranged in such a melancholy scowl that some still showed. His shoulders sagged with the weight of a heavy burden, though almost all of their responsibilities had gone with losing the war. The life had gone out of him when Romulus first brought the news of Aranth’s death, but he was now a walking corpse. Ayzebel could not say she looked better herself, an ashy pallor, frayed hair, and no kohl.

She wanted to know everything he saw with Hannibal. She could not imagining facing the Etruscans’ ghosts for fifteen years. When Arria had fled to Carthage with some of the population of Cisra, Ayzebel had thought that had been a hard thing to watch. She attempted to stay alive in one of the new Etruscan refugee neighborhoods but faded and faded under Ayzebel’s watch. Aranth had died even earlier, and Anysus had been made to trample on his grave. Well, no more than the Romans already had, she supposed.

The silence had lasted for more than a few moments, but it dispersed instead of hanging heavy in the air. They both knew they did not have to talk constantly. She was exhausting herself even further by venting.

A bracelet slid down her arm and clanged as it met other ones as she lifted her arm to grab the cup of tea. It was Etruscan, no doubt—they all were. Anysus’ were too. After all that work, Ayzebel didn't have enough energy to lift it to her lips, and let her arm lie limp on the table. The other one would have joined it if it could.

Ayzebel slumped in her chair further and stared at her lap. “I can't predict the future,” she admitted. “I don't know what will become of us.” Anysus only blinked at that, likely a bodily response and not even a reply.

“I can't— I can't stay in the city for too long.” Ah, a sentence. Perhaps they were getting somewhere.

Ayzebel knew he was more used to traveling, but she glanced up at him and raised an eyebrow. “I doubt you'll be going anywhere for a while.” She had seen him fall down the stairs or pass out on the stairs a few times now, and it'd only been a week. He averted his eyes.

They both ended up standing in front of the Etruscan community somehow. Ayzebel could not say how they got there or whose idea it was. Perhaps it was unspoken communication. They stood off to the side and watched people come and go and sniffed at whatever someone was cooking in the air. Some of them grew to know Ayzebel when she attended Arria, but she did not want them to see her right now. The noise was overbearing, even if it was caused by her second favorite people past her own. Anysus, though she would argue he was more emotional than she was, had nothing on his face at all.

“How long did she live?” Anysus asked suddenly, startling Ayzebel with the jarring question.

“A while,” was all she could manage before she thought about it further. “A few months. She… She slowly faded. Much like I imagine Aranth did.” They were no strangers to the other gender personification and loved them just as much, only platonically. Anysus nodded lifelessly.

“The sarcophagus, I— I couldn't bring it back—”

She looked up at him then, eyes scrunched in worry. His voice was frail and watery, threatening to break at any second. She had no idea what he was talking about; they hadn't talked about much since he got back. As she was about to ask, an image of a stone sarcophagus flashed into her mind violently. She'd seen it before, in her dreams.

She would still need to ask about the details. Ayzebel clutched a nearby railing and scanned the area with heavy eyes. Both of their eyes settled on two children laughing and playing with a dog. It looked to be one of the city strays, but it was playing with them rather than hurting them. Ayzebel wondered if she knew the children; she likely did.

The woman glanced back to Anysus. He was watching the same kids, but after the first outburst of emotion, his face was stone again. She could feel her own heart hardening too. They were both too hollow.

“Let’s visit Kbiir,” she offered quietly. She was happiest among her own pets, but Anysus needed to be somewhere familiar if they were to share miseries. The empty outer wall was depressing, but Ayzebel hoped they could both overlook that. Kbiir had been with Anysus the entire war.

She felt a sudden anger rise in her as the two of them turned away from the community, though she could not say why. She squashed it as she did any other emotion, but it continued to bubble over as she walked. She wanted to know everything about why nations died. Not that she wanted them to, but she wanted to know why Tyre and other Phoenicians hadn't died when they were conquered. Why Egypt hadn't. Why the Romans were so unkillable and how she could end them for once and for all.

“Don't bother,” Anysus said bluntly as they ascended a hill. He must have felt her anger radiating, as they sometimes tended to do, sharing emotions. They were both still very closed-off people, but their thoughts flowed back and forth. At least he stopped her before she started grinding her teeth and punching a wall. It all left her in a wave, and she found it hard to continue walking. Both of them might get dizzy and pass out in the street if they weren't careful.

Nothing had happened to the city, so they were both in good shape there. But the rest of what they were supposed to represent had crumbled. The Italian islands had been gone for decades, and after holding it since Carthage’s beginnings, Iberia was gone too. Personally and mentally, they were both absolute wrecks.

“‘m glad Hannibal sent back his wife early on,” Ayzebel said. “I hardly had anyone to talk to.”

Anysus’ answer was “I know,” but she got flashes of images of a random Carthaginian man and friendly bonfires in the dark until images of dry desert caked with blood interrupted them. She had found Anysus in horrible shape after Zama, and it lasted for about a week after. When she passed the banquet hall one day, a human family was sitting at the table with him. It was likely he had at least one person. She wondered what he saw of her time in the city, which was no war, but had been hard enough.

They reached a point in the city where Byrsa was not blocking the sky and they could see the sunset. The two of them stood off to the side of the narrow road and watched it. Bands of pink and yellow reached out for the sea in an orange haze.

“Sunsets in Etruria were always prettier,” Ayzebel observed, melancholy. The warm tones would contrast with the cool nights and bounce off of all the green foliage.

Anysus didn't say anything for a long time, his entire body taut as a bowstring. Neither of them were thinking of anything of any substance right now. After a few minutes and a cart rolling past, into the fading clamor used almost as a cover, Anysus whispered, “I miss them.”

Ayzebel looked at the deridingly pretty sunset with a sour twist of her lips. The beauty was useless if it was not permanent. She did not know how something so good could end. “I know.”

[firstguitar-blog]

First Guitar

The Best Guitars For Beginners

Discovering the suitable guitar for a beginner may be troublesome but the most important elements to contemplate are value, durability and flexibility. By these requirements, the Squier Stratocaster is well one of the best guitar for novices.

Manufactured by Fender, the Squier Strat is likely one of the greatest worth beginner guitars and it could normally be present in a neighborhood music retailer or on-line for between $one hundred eighty and $230. No newbie wants a dearer instrument and you can at all times buy a better guitar as soon as your expertise warrant it.

In case you progress and buy a better mannequin a yr or two after you begin taking part in, you may always use your Squier as a backup as a result of it's nothing if not durable. The Fender name signifies that as long as you care for the instrument it should final for years with solely minor issues.

As an illustration, some people have reported that the strap buttons come loose after just a few months but this is simply fixed and the fact that that is the greatest drawback the guitar faces with put on is a testomony to its sturdiness.

After all, worth and sturdiness mean little if the guitar is not versatile. It's essential that beginners have a stable instrument on which to try the whole lot from the blues to rock to heavy steel. The Squier Strat offers the beginner all of these choices and, though it lacks the thrills of dearer instruments, it is constructed to present the newbie a solid platform from which to enhance their expertise.

When searching for a guitar, do not confuse the Squier Stratocaster with the Squier Affinity Strat or the Fender Stratocaster. The Affinity is a less expensive mannequin and it shows whereas the Fender Stratocaster is a much more costly model ($350). The Squier Stratocaster is in the middle of these two fashions and is the best buy for the beginning guitarist.

On steadiness, the Squier Stratocaster is the very best guitar for learners. It's price, sturdiness and versatility make it the proper selection for anybody just starting to be taught the guitar and the very best part is that you can at all times use the Squier Strat as a backup as soon as you move on to a dearer instrument.

If you find yourself sometimes just beginning out and studying to play guitar, you have to to decide which is the most effective guitar for rookies. There are actually a couple of parts which may determine which guitar a new player really ought to get.

Value-This is actually a particularly crucial aspect to consider. The higher the guitar, the considerably extra costly it is likely to be. You might have to decide firstly, precisely what you wish to spend for a model new guitar. In the event that you discover that you are able to stick with it, you can put money into an incredible guitar. If you end up unsure, I would personally counsel one thing rather less expensive.

Intonation-the definitions for intonation is the size of the strings relative to the place of the frets. You have to to test for proper intonation whenever you're shopping for a guitar. You verify by enjoying the string open and after that fretting your guitar on the twelfth fret. The pitch of the note must sound the identical. If the intonation is out, you'll be able to ensure you ask the manager of this store if he'll correct the intonation for you personally.

If he will and it nonetheless doesn't appear to sound good, do not purchase it. Your guitar will normally be out of tune. If you are purchasing for it second-hand, you should definitely never purchase a guitar by which the intonation is out on. You simply is not going to really know what restoring it will embody. It could presumably turn into quite excessive-priced restore job.

Electric versus Acoustic Guitar-If you are able to shell out a good quantity of your money in your guitar, an acoustic would be nice. Only the perfect acoustic will assist you to simply push down on the guitar strings to create a observe. In the case that you are into heavy metal and you prefer to play principally lead guitar, then I'd recommend an electrical guitar. For those who happen to determine to buy an electrical guitar, you will have a guitar amp and likewise a patch cable.

While you go looking for the very best guitars for learners, take a guitar participant with you. Electric guitars may have warped necks or rattling hardware and the beginner guitarist is not going to have a clue that something is significantly misplaced. Something can happen to a person guitar to make it a lemon but it's doable to comply with some normal pointers about which model and model is price looking at.

You want to play electrical guitar and the query of what are one of the best guitars for novices arises in your mind. To put it broadly, a decent electrical guitar for a newbie shouldn't be laborious to come back by, you just need to know how you can look.

There are so many sources of new and second hand guitars, online and offline, via shops and through categorised advertisements, you just must take somewhat care in selecting your first guitar. Here are some recommendations that you might carry with you as you exit into the world on the lookout for a starter guitar.

The Squier Affinity Tele.

The Telecaster is beloved by many guitarists, Albert Lee, Keith Richards and Steve Cropper among them. It grabs the eye with its retro rock n roll appears to be like, backed up by stable building. The physique of the Affinity sequence is made out of alder and the fretboard is maple. This can be a sensible choice for the learner guitar player who desires to look as well as feel the half. You'll most likely notice some hum however not enough to complain about. The sound you get from this guitar positively matches the looks, so when you see one, seize it.

The Squier Fat Strat is a reasonably priced guitar let down by uneven quality of parts and workmanship. The flashy appears belie the poor high best acoustic guitars for beginners quality of construction. Even so, it ought to serve the beginner guitar participant quite well till you are more sure of your musical path.

The Epiphone Les Paul Special II. The Les Paul guitar is part of rock and roll history. It is a beginner's guitar you may pick up new for not too many dollars. It has a fretboard made of rosewood and a physique of alder and maple. The appears to be like of this guitar will inspire you to get you chops shortly so you'll be able to should hold enjoying it.

The Epiphone G-310 SG is a copy of the Gibson SG which is a fairly excessive-vary guitar. The electronics and hardware are where the corporate saves money however in spite of that, the general opinion amongst guitarists who have given it a attempt is that it is a wonderful rookies model. The sound is fine for absolutely any electrical guitar music and the light weight will make you wish to play all day.

Now for a low priced acoustic guitar for the beginner. The Yamaha No. one hundred twenty Nippon Gakki is a nylon string guitar which you can acclimatize your fingers on, however you simply may want to maintain it when you move onto an electrical. This is one other guitar that you should seize if the worth is true.

In this article we'll talk about the best acoustic guitar for beginners and easy issues like basic guitar classes and primary songs.

When shopping for a new guitar as a newbie you want to go right down to your local guitar Center or guitar store and ask in the event you can play a few of their guitars. In case you're not wanting to spend so much of guitar you most likely want to go for something like the Yamaha or Washburn model but it will be significant that the guitar is simple to play as a result of if it is too laborious to play then you definitely will not choose it up and play it.

The perfect acoustic brand for newbies might be a fender or a Washburn.

While you're attempting to study probably the greatest strings for freshmen and what are one of the best songs for novices. You actually need to think about who it's that is studying here. And what type of songs are significant to them. It is advisable to set them down the path with their studying.

The best guitar classes for novices get them set up with the right technique and learning what right types for them for the kind of music that they want to play. As a result of there are a lot of kinds of guitar. There is finger type taking part in on the guitar there may be utilizing the choose and strumming. And there is a solo guitar. And most good gamers are usually not masters at every model so it's best to know why you need to play guitar and what type you want to play earlier than starting so that you're motivated to study and do the correct observe.

Has your son or daughter shown any desire to play a musical instrument? If they have then I would wager that you will have determined that a guitar is probably the best option and now you are questioning "what is the greatest guitar for rookies?" Let's first put up the case for the opposition to a getting a guitar and opting for something else:

Drums - Take up too much area and too noisy.

Piano - A bit too huge and all of it appears a bit formal.

Woodwind instruments - A common hardening of the lip; OKAY I know it's a must to toughen the fingertips up for playing the guitar, however no less than they aren't on common view for everybody.

The Recorder - Do I've to say something?

I could go on, but I think you see why I think the way I do.

An acoustic guitar generally is a great choice for younger individuals to find their own musical abilities and just to fall in love with songs with a well-recognized and let's face it pretty cool instrument. The guitar is absolutely versatile and the selection is extremely vast whenever you start to look around. I have had to buy guitar for each of my budding guitarist sons and alongside the way I have picked up some useful items of knowledge that hopefully may also help you.

To begin with it is advisable uncover exactly what type of acoustic guitar your youngster would really feel most comfortable in studying on? There are predominately two types; the classical guitar, which has nylon strings or the steel string guitar, which features, sure you guessed it, steel strings. Every one has its own explicit appeal, and for a beginner I'd counsel that the guitar solely has six strings!

Classical guitar has a sound which is way softer and warmer than its steel stringed cousin. A number of younger people start with this kind of acoustic, just because it is kinder on their tender finger ideas because of the nylon strings.

Metal-string guitar has a sound which is louder and brighter than the classical guitar. However, performing and learning is harder on the metal-string guitar, because it entails much more strength from a person's fingers and is far more abrasive to the finger tips themselves. You have to construct up calluses from the observe, nonetheless, as soon as they've them they are going to be guitar gamers for life.

Try to take the size into consideration when deciding on their acoustic guitar, it is going to probably be a half or three quarter size to start with so it is snug and you don't want to put them off.

When it comes down to picking your first guitar, two issues come to thoughts: Price and high quality. You want a good guitar, but you do not need to have to make use of your faculty financial savings to get it. For those of you who worry that a beginning guitar would possibly take a huge chunk out of your pockets, never worry. I've got some really good news for you. I just saved a bunch of cash on my automobile insurance by switching to Geico. Oh yeah, and I additionally wrote this article for first time guitarists such as you.

There's so many...You are feeling like you're drowning in a pool of guitars. It's alright in the event you're undecided which one to get. Many people have a tough time choosing out a shirt in the morning. Troublesome selections are a part of life. But so far as guitars go, you've got to make some comparisons between what you want, and what you'll be able to afford.

Faux you had ten thousand dollars. Fairly candy, right? You are sixteen or seventeen once more, about to buy a automotive. You may have your license, but little driving expertise. Would you spend eight thousand of that money on a very nice, expensive automotive?

No in fact not. You barely know the place the swap for you windshield wipers are. There is a fairly good probability you may crash, hit a pothole, run over some curbs. After which what? Eight grand out the window. Moral of the story? Whenever you're simply beginning one thing, take it slow. Don't get one of the best of one of the best simply but. Work as much as it. Everybody needs the thousand dollar electric guitar embedded with diamonds. (I'm fairly sure that costs greater than a grand, however you get the concept) But when you've by no means performed earlier than, now could be the time to be low cost. Get one thing you possibly can practice on. Get something that you understand can handle just a few beatings if you happen to drop it or damage it. The very last thing you need is a scratched, beat up, 300 dollar guitar. You may most likely end up shopping for another one anyways. So for now, be tight along with your money.