#and it’s not just because of his story featuring black pearl

[pwurrz]

he’s spitting mad facts

[novaursa]

Where Dragons Dare (2/3)

- Summary: After your declaration to marry Alicent in the small council meeting, the day of the wedding finally comes. And so does your first wedding night.

- Paring: male!targ reader/Alicent Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is twin brother of Rhaenyra and is bonded with a dragon. For more of my works visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 5 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: This was requested by @witch-of-letters. Enjoy! ❤️ Battle of the Stepstones is add as a bonus, because I love writing dragon battles. The last part will be posted later tomorrow once it is done.

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: 3

The grand hall of the Red Keep is awash with the glow of thousands of candles. The flames dance across golden tapestries depicting the histories of Old Valyria, but today the storied past pales in comparison to the momentous occasion unfolding before all in attendance. The wedding is one spoken of in whispers and rumors, but now it blooms before the gathered lords and ladies with all the splendor and gravitas worthy of House Targaryen. 

You stand at the altar draped in black and red, the rich silk of your doublet catching the light in subtle ways. The fine Valyrian embroidery at the hems speaks of dragons in flight, each thread imbued with dark crimson that shimmers like fresh blood. A black cloak, edged in deep scarlet, flows from your shoulders, fastened at your throat with a clasp shaped like a coiled dragon. Your hair, the silvery-white of pure Valyrian descent, is tied back, letting your angular features and sharp violet eyes take in every gaze, every emotion displayed openly or hidden away. At your side hangs Blackfyre—your birthright as Prince of Dragonstone—its pommel set with a ruby that gleams like a beating heart.

Before you, Alicent Hightower stands radiant in a gown of deep emerald green. The dress, fitted perfectly to her frame, billows out in layers of silk and fine lace, each shimmering with golden accents as she moves. A delicate crown of silver leaves and pearls rests atop her auburn hair, carefully arranged in elegant curls. Her eyes, a brilliant shade of brown, reflect a mixture of pride, joy, and the quiet steel she’s honed under the pressures of courtly life. There is a softness in her gaze, however, reserved only for you as her eyes meet yours—a silent understanding, a shared relief, and a promise of what is to come.

The Septon's voice rings out, leading the words of the traditional vows. Beside you, Rhaenyra is practically glowing with excitement. Her smile is unrestrained, her eyes darting between you and Alicent with genuine happiness, a sister’s joy at seeing her twin brother embrace his own fate. She wears a gown of pale red, adorned with the colors of House Targaryen and a crown of silver atop her flowing locks, her presence radiating confidence as the heir’s sister and a firm ally to your cause. 

King Viserys is seated in a place of honor, his face full of warmth and pride. His smile is wide as he watches his only son wed the woman who has become a daughter to him over the years. He has the contented look of a father who finally sees his children happy, a rare expression in a court filled with ambition and schemes. He lifts his cup in a subtle toast to you and Alicent, his eyes misting over slightly with emotion.

Daemon Targaryen, your uncle, stands near the rear of the gathered nobles, his silver hair catching the light as he observes the ceremony. His expression is inscrutable, but those who know him well enough can see the slight curve at the edge of his lips, the way his gaze sharpens whenever it falls upon you. For all his unpredictability, there is a flicker of pride there—a satisfaction, perhaps, that you finally asserted yourself against the forces that sought to control you. Daemon has always favored those who carve their own path, and today you have done just that.

As the ceremony draws to a close, you step forward to place a cloak upon Alicent’s shoulders, the symbol of House Targaryen enveloping her as you claim her as your own. The green of House Hightower blends now with the red and black of the dragon, a union that cements alliances but more importantly binds two hearts that have long yearned for this day. When you lean in to kiss her, there is a softness, a tenderness in the way her lips meet yours, and the hall erupts in applause, though the world shrinks to just the two of you in that fleeting moment.

As the applause dies down, Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, watches with a carefully controlled expression. His eyes flicker between you and Alicent, a mixture of satisfaction and unease buried beneath his calm demeanor. Though this is a victory for him in securing his daughter’s position, there’s a tension in his jaw—he had hoped to control this outcome more closely, but you’ve slipped from his grasp, a dragon untamed. He studies you with the gaze of a man who sees both a rival and a dangerous ally.

At the feast, Rhaenyra approaches you first, practically throwing herself into your arms. "You did it, Y/N! I knew you would," she beams, her joy infectious. "Alicent looks so beautiful, and you—you were magnificent. I’ve never seen the council so speechless!" Her eyes sparkle with mischief. "And Uncle Daemon, I think he’s actually proud of you for once."

You chuckle, wrapping an arm around your sister. “He probably is. But I didn’t do this for him or the council. This was always for her.” Your gaze drifts back to Alicent, who’s engaged in conversation with a group of highborn ladies, her laughter soft and genuine.

Viserys claps a hand on your shoulder. "You’ve brought honor to our house, Y/N. I couldn’t be prouder of the man you’ve become. Your mother would be so proud, too." His voice carries a slight tremor as he mentions Queen Aemma, but it is quickly overshadowed by his joy.

You offer him a warm smile. "Thank you, father. I’ll do everything I can to ensure that this union strengthens our house."

Daemon is the next to approach, a goblet in hand and that familiar smirk playing on his lips. "I didn’t think you had it in you, nephew," he says, voice laced with amusement. "I was beginning to think you’d let others chart your course forever. But you’ve surprised us all, haven’t you?"

You meet his gaze squarely, your own smile more restrained but no less confident. "Some paths are worth fighting for, uncle. Even if they’re not what others expect."

Daemon raises his cup in a mock salute. “Spoken like a true Targaryen. Perhaps there’s more fire in you than I thought.”

The feast carries on with music, laughter, and the clinking of cups. You and Alicent share dances with the lords and ladies of the realm, but every now and then, your eyes find each other’s, and the world falls away again, leaving just the two of you in this sea of people.

When you finally manage to steal a private moment with her in a quiet corner of the hall, she takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “I was so afraid,” she admits in a hushed voice, her eyes reflecting the firelight. “Afraid that we’d never be able to reach this moment. But here we are.”

You brush a strand of hair from her face, letting your hand linger against her cheek. “You’re mine now, Alicent. I’ll fight for you, for us, against anyone who tries to tear us apart.”

A flicker of relief passes through her expression, followed by a warmth that softens her usually reserved emotions. “And I’ll stand by you, no matter the storm we face.”

The words hang between you like an unspoken vow—one more binding than anything recited before the Septon. 

The night deepens as the feast continues, a blur of music and the warm glow of candlelight reflecting off the ornate dishes piled with food. Laughter and the sound of clinking goblets fill the Great Hall. You and Alicent sit side by side at the high table, your hands occasionally brushing against each other beneath the table. The touch is small, but each time it happens, there’s a comforting warmth, a silent reassurance between the two of you. Alicent’s soft smile, reserved just for you, never quite fades from her lips.

As you’re enjoying a brief moment of quiet conversation, the sound of footsteps approaches. Gwayne Hightower, Alicent’s brother, strides up, his eyes bright with joy. "Sister! Y/N!" he greets, his voice tinged with the exuberance of youth. His resemblance to Alicent is striking, though his features are more angular, his posture that of a man eager to prove himself. "I couldn’t let the night end without offering my congratulations." He gives you a hearty clap on the shoulder, his grin broad. "It’s about time someone put a spark in this old court! You’ve done well, my friend. I’ve known you since we were boys, and I’ve always believed you’d find your way."

You return his grin, reaching out to clasp his forearm in the familiar gesture of comrades. "Gwayne, your support has never gone unnoticed. I’ve always valued your friendship, even when we got ourselves into trouble as children. But I think this time, we’ve both stepped into something greater than mischief.”

Gwayne chuckles. “You certainly have, Y/N. And Alicent—” He turns to his sister, his tone softening with genuine affection. “I’ve never seen you look happier. I’m glad you’ve found this happiness, even if I’ll be the one who has to keep a closer eye on courtly matters with you from now on.”

Alicent smiles warmly at her brother, her hand gently resting over yours atop the table. “Thank you, Gwayne. Your words mean more to me than you know. And don’t worry, we’ll both make sure to keep you busy in your duties, though perhaps with fewer pranks than when we were children.”

The three of you share a laugh, the ease of old friendships and sibling bonds lightening the mood.

Soon after, the familiar figures of Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys approach. The Sea Snake is every bit the powerful figure one expects, his deep blue doublet adorned with intricate silver embroidery resembling the waves of the sea. Rhaenys is resplendent in crimson and gold, her presence commanding yet warm. There’s a certain wisdom in her gaze as she looks between you and Alicent, as if she sees beyond what most do.

“Prince Y/N, Lady Alicent,” Corlys begins, his voice deep and steady. “Congratulations are in order. The union of Targaryen and Hightower is a strategic move, and one I hope will bring stability to the realm. But more than that, it’s clear to see the bond you share.” His eyes linger on you, a hint of approval in his expression. “And perhaps this is the start of a new chapter where the young find their own path amidst the expectations of the old.”

Princess Rhaenys nods, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “It is good to see love and strength walk hand in hand. The history of our houses has often been marked by conflict, but this—” she gestures subtly between you and Alicent, “—this has the potential to change much. You both carry the future on your shoulders now.”

You bow your head slightly in respect. “Thank you, Lord Corlys, Princess Rhaenys. Your wisdom is always welcome. I hope to earn that respect in time and prove that this union is more than just a political move.”

Rhaenys’ eyes glint with something sharp and approving. “Oh, I believe you will, Y/N. The blood of Old Valyria runs deep, and you’ve shown you’re willing to chart your own course. I, for one, look forward to seeing what comes next.”

As they step away, Lord Tyland Lannister, clad in rich reds and golds, approaches next. His sharp features and keen eyes give away his nature as a man ever mindful of the shifting tides of power. “Prince Y/N, Lady Alicent, it is a joyous day indeed.” His voice is smooth, practiced, yet there’s an undercurrent of genuine intent behind his words. “House Lannister is ever eager to lend its support to the Targaryen line. May your union be fruitful and prosperous. It seems the dragons have found a way to blend strength with the grace of the Reach.”

You nod, ever cautious with Tyland’s honeyed words. “Thank you, Lord Tyland. Your support will be remembered, and I hope our alliance will benefit all corners of the realm.”

He offers a slight bow before moving off, ever mindful of where the winds blow.

The feast begins to wind down, and as tradition demands, there is the looming expectation of the bedding ceremony. The air in the hall thickens with the anticipation of it. Some lords and ladies begin to gather, murmuring and glancing toward you and Alicent with barely hidden excitement. The tension, the ribald jokes, the whispers—it all threatens to reduce the sanctity of this moment to a spectacle.

Before anyone can make a move to initiate it, you rise to your feet, the air of command in your posture silencing the crowd before the teasing can begin. “There will be no bedding ceremony tonight,” you declare, your voice clear and firm, leaving no room for argument. The hall quiets instantly, the murmur of protests caught in the throats of those who thought to see the night end in such a manner.

Daemon, standing with arms crossed at the edge of the hall, lets out a low chuckle, his approval evident in the sharp nod he gives you. “Let the young prince make his own choices,” he says, his voice carrying across the room. “There’s enough spectacle in these halls without turning the most sacred of nights into another charade.”

The crowd hesitates, unsure whether to push the matter. But when you meet your father’s gaze, Viserys nods slowly, an expression of both surprise and respect on his face. Otto Hightower, who had been watching with tension in his eyes, finally relaxes, a subtle sigh escaping him. His face settles into an expression that resembles something close to approval, a rare look from a man who values tradition and order above all.

Alicent looks at you with deep gratitude and admiration, her fingers squeezing yours as she stands. You turn to her, your expression softening as you offer her your arm. “Shall we retire, my lady?” you ask, your voice laced with tenderness.

She dips her head slightly, eyes shimmering with emotion. “Let’s,” she replies, her voice barely more than a whisper as she takes your arm.

Together, you walk down the long aisle toward the doors leading out of the Great Hall, every eye on you both as you leave. There is a certain weight lifted from your shoulders as the doors close behind you, the noise of the hall fading as you enter the quieter, more intimate corridors of the Keep.

As you walk side by side toward your chambers, the echoes of your footsteps and the distant flicker of torchlight create an almost dreamlike atmosphere. Neither of you speaks, the silence between you comfortable, filled with the knowledge that this is just the beginning. When you reach the doors to your shared chambers, you pause, turning to face her fully. You lift her hand to your lips and press a soft kiss to her knuckles, your eyes never leaving hers.

“No more performances,” you murmur. “This is just us now.”

Alicent’s eyes shine as she steps closer, her other hand rising to rest against your cheek. “I’ve never wanted anything more than to be with you, like this, away from prying eyes.”

With that, you open the door and guide her inside, the world outside forgotten as the heavy oak doors close behind you both, sealing away the courtly intrigue and the expectations of the realm. In this moment, it’s just you and her, bound together by choice, love, and a shared determination to forge your own destiny.

The chamber is bathed in the soft light of the fire, shadows flickering across the stone walls as the door closes behind you both. The silence stretches, not uncomfortable but full with the awareness of what comes next. For all the warmth you share, the affection that’s blossomed over years of quiet moments and unspoken glances, this is new for both of you. The air is tinged with the sweet fragrance of candles, the soft rustle of fabric as you both stand there, suddenly unsure how to proceed.

You turn to face her, meeting Alicent’s gaze. There’s a nervousness in her eyes, a slight quiver in her breath, but beneath it lies trust, and something more—desire, hesitant but real. You step closer, reaching out to take her hands in yours, your thumb brushing over her knuckles in a gentle, soothing motion. “Alicent,” you murmur, your voice softer than usual, tinged with both affection and concern. “Are you sure? If you’re not ready—”

“I am,” she interrupts softly, her voice a tender whisper in the quiet of the room. Her cheeks flush pink, but her eyes never leave yours. “I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

You nod, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Slowly, you lean down, capturing her lips in a kiss, tender and delicate. Her lips are warm against yours, the kiss a gentle exploration rather than a fervent rush. You both linger in the simplicity of it, letting it ease the tension from your bodies. When you pull back, you see her chest rise and fall as she steadies her breath, her eyes searching yours for reassurance.

Your hand moves to the clasp of her dress, fingers hesitating for a moment before you look at her once more. “May I?” you ask softly.

She nods, her voice catching slightly. “Yes… I want you to.”

With careful fingers, you undo the clasp and let the fabric slip from her shoulders, revealing the pale skin beneath. The dress pools at her feet, and she stands before you in just her shift, delicate and vulnerable. Her eyes flicker down, shyly avoiding your gaze as you take her in. In turn, she reaches out, her hands trembling slightly as she begins to unlace your doublet. There’s an unspoken agreement between you—a mutual understanding that this moment is as much about trust as it is about desire. You help her with the laces, guiding her hands until your clothing is cast aside, leaving you both bare in the warm glow of the fire.

For a long moment, you simply stand there, your breaths mingling, your eyes tracing the curves and lines of each other’s bodies. There’s a sense of curiosity mixed with reverence, your gazes shyly meeting before drifting again, both of you learning and memorizing the sight of each other.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. Alicent’s breath hitches at the word, her eyes shining as she looks up at you, her lips parting as if to say something, but words fail her. Instead, she just reaches out, fingers brushing over your chest, her touch sending a shiver through you.

You gently take her hand and guide her toward the bed, the furs soft beneath your feet as you lead her down onto the mattress. You lay her down with the utmost care, your eyes never leaving hers, searching for any sign of discomfort. Her lips part as she draws in a shaky breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but her gaze is steady, trusting.

You lower yourself beside her, your hand caressing her cheek as you lean in to kiss her again. This time, the kiss is deeper, a gradual melding of lips as you both begin to relax into each other. Your hand trails down, brushing against her collarbone, then lower, until it rests just above her breast. You pause, your eyes flicking to hers for permission, and when she nods slightly, you continue, cupping her breast gently, your thumb brushing over the soft skin. A soft gasp escapes her lips, her back arching slightly as you explore her.

“You’re so beautiful, Alicent,” you murmur against her lips, and she responds with a soft sigh, her hand sliding up your back, pulling you closer.

Your kisses begin to wander, trailing down her jawline, to the tender skin of her neck. You feel her pulse quicken under your lips, her breath growing more uneven as you move lower. When your mouth finds her breast, she gasps, her fingers threading through your hair. You take your time, savoring each reaction, each soft sound she makes as your lips and tongue explore her.

As you move lower, her breath catches, her fingers tightening in your hair when you kiss the curve of her hip. You glance up at her, seeing the mixture of nerves and anticipation in her eyes. She’s never experienced anything like this, and neither have you—not truly. But you remember the lessons Daemon half-teased, half-instructed you on during that one visit to the brothel, showing you the ways of pleasure in a more practical, if unconventional, manner. While you hadn’t partaken that night, you watched, curious, and the knowledge lingers now, guiding your movements.

You press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, and she lets out a soft whimper, her fingers clutching at the furs beneath her. You murmur a line from an old Valyrian poem, the words ancient and filled with meaning, letting the sounds roll off your tongue as your kisses grow more intimate. “Gevives isse tolvie jelevre—beauty in every breath,” you whisper, your breath warm against her skin.

When your mouth finally finds her core, she gasps, her body tensing for a moment before she melts into the sensation, her hips shifting instinctively toward you. Her breath comes in shallow bursts, her hand gripping your shoulder as you apply what you’ve learned, taking your time, listening to the way her body responds. When she lets out a soft moan, her voice trembling with pleasure, you smile against her, murmuring another line from the poem—words of love and devotion that have been passed down through generations.

Slowly, you trail your kisses back up her body, feeling her trembling beneath you. Her hands reach for you, pulling you close, and when your lips find hers again, the kiss is hungry, filled with the taste of her desire and the passion that’s been building between you both.

You position yourself above her, your eyes locked on hers as you ask one last time, “Are you sure, Alicent?”

Her response is a breathless nod, her hand cupping your cheek as she whispers, “I want this. I want you.”

You enter her gently, inch by inch, mindful of her innocence, watching her every expression for any sign of pain. She winces slightly at first, her brow furrowing, but her fingers dig into your back, holding you close as she adjusts. When she finally opens her eyes again, there’s no hesitation, only trust. “Move,” she breathes, her voice barely audible, but full of need.

You start slowly, each movement careful, deliberate, letting her body adjust, her warmth enveloping you. Her breaths come out in soft, quick bursts, her nails dragging lightly across your skin as she holds on to you. The tension in her body gradually gives way to something else, her hips meeting yours in a rhythm that’s both instinctive and hesitant.

As the moments pass, the awkwardness gives way to a deeper connection. The tenderness remains, but passion begins to take root. Alicent’s breath hitches when she wraps her legs around your waist, her hands pulling you closer. You respond to her need, moving with more urgency as she finds her own rhythm, her body moving against yours in a dance that’s both new and timeless.

When she pushes herself up, shifting into your lap, there’s a sudden surge of boldness in her gaze, something wild and free. You guide her movements, your hands steadying her as she takes control, her breathless gasps mingling with your own. The intimacy between you grows not just in the physical connection but in the way you respond to each other’s needs, desires, and unspoken fears. It’s a union forged in trust, love, and the desire to explore the depths of what you share.

Eventually, when the night reaches its quiet peak, you collapse together into the furs, breathless and spent, your limbs entangled as you hold her close. Here, in this moment, there’s only the warmth of her skin against yours, the sound of her steadying breaths, and the knowledge that this is only the beginning of your shared life together.

As sleep slowly claims you both, you press a final kiss to her forehead, murmuring words of love in Valyrian, promising her with every breath that this night is just the start of what you’ll build together.

The sky is a bruised shade of twilight, thick with smoke and ash. The stench of blood, sweat, and salt fills the air as the waves crash against the jagged rocks of the Stepstones. This place is a wasteland—a battlefield stained with the bodies of the dead and dying. For over two years, the Crabfeeder’s men have held these islands, turning them into a butcher’s yard. But today, you intend to end it. Today, the dragons return in fire and fury.

You sit atop Dallax, your black-scaled beast, perched on a ridge overlooking the main encampment of the Triarchy’s forces. His green eyes gleam in the dim light, and his body shifts restlessly beneath you, eager to unleash his wrath. His teeth, hidden within the dark flesh of his jaws, retract only when his rage is stoked—a menace lying in wait. You run a gloved hand along his neck, feeling the raw power coiled within him. “Soon,” you whisper, your voice firm yet laced with anticipation. “We will end this.”

Below, Daemon Targaryen plays his part to perfection. Clad in soot-streaked armor, a white banner clutched in one hand, he approaches the enemy lines. The Crabfeeder’s forces, a mix of hardened sellswords and conscripts, watch from behind their sharpened stakes and crude fortifications, unsure whether this is truly surrender or another of Daemon’s ruses. The Prince of the City moves with a calculated slowness, his steps deliberate, his head lowered just enough to give the impression of defeat. But you know him better. There’s a fire in his eyes—a fury barely contained behind that facade of submission. The plan hinges on this moment, on the Crabfeeder’s arrogance and greed.

From your vantage point, you spot Lord Corlys Velaryon’s forces hidden in the shallows, ready to pounce the moment the trap is sprung. The Sea Snake commands his men with a veteran’s precision, their silence a stark contrast to the braying jeers coming from the Crabfeeder’s ranks.

Daemon finally stops, mere feet from the Crabfeeder’s line, where a grotesque figure emerges from the shadows. Drahar, the Crabfeeder, is a ghastly sight, his face hidden behind a cracked and twisted mask, his skin mottled from disease. He raises a hand, halting the jeers, and for a moment, silence reigns.

Then, chaos erupts.

Daemon’s false surrender is cast aside as he draws Dark Sister in a blur of Valyrian steel, cutting through the nearest soldier in one swift, practiced motion. Blood sprays into the air, catching the dim light as the battlefield roars back to life. The Triarchy’s soldiers charge forward, desperate to claim the prize they believe within reach, but they are rushing headlong into a trap.

It’s your moment.

With a word in Valyrian, you urge Dallax into a dive. His wings unfurl, dark as midnight, blotting out the dying light. The air screams past you as you plummet toward the battlefield, the ground rushing up to meet you. “Dracarys!” you roar, the command slicing through the din of battle.

Dallax responds with a torrent of flame that incinerates everything in its path. The first line of the Crabfeeder’s men is engulfed in a roaring inferno, their screams swallowed by the relentless fire. Armor melts, flesh sizzles, and bone turns to ash in mere moments. You bank sharply, pulling Dallax into another dive, this time focusing on the siege engines positioned along the ridge. The ballistae, meant to keep the dragons at bay, are shattered under the crushing weight of dragonfire and claws. Timber explodes, splinters raining down on the screaming soldiers below as you rip through their defenses with ruthless efficiency.

You catch a glimpse of Daemon, now fully engaged in the melee, his sword a blur of lethal grace as he carves a bloody path through the Triarchy’s forces. He fights with a savage joy, laughing as he dodges and counters, the battlefield his stage. Corlys and his men surge from the shallows, catching the enemy in a brutal pincer. The once-confident soldiers of the Crabfeeder are thrown into disarray, their lines crumbling under the combined might of dragon and steel.

You circle back, eyes locked on Drahar, who attempts to retreat deeper into the labyrinth of stakes and pits his men have constructed. But there’s no escape. You guide Dallax lower, skimming the ground, his claws gouging the earth as you close in on your prey. The Crabfeeder looks up in desperation, his eyes wide behind his mask as he realizes his end is near.

“End him!” Daemon’s voice echoes in your mind like a phantom’s dare, though the words are drowned out by the roar of battle.

Dallax’s jaws snap open, his teeth glinting as they slide out from their hidden sheaths. With a snarl, he lunges, clamping down on Drahar with a sickening crunch. The Crabfeeder’s mask falls away, revealing a twisted visage frozen in terror before his body is torn apart in a spray of blood and gore. Dallax shakes his head, flinging what remains of Drahar’s corpse into the dirt before incinerating it with a final jet of flame.

Around you, the battlefield is a scene of utter carnage. The ground is slick with blood, littered with the hacked remains of soldiers. Men scream, their limbs severed, or burn as they try to flee, only to be cut down by Corlys’s disciplined troops. The cries of the dying are a symphony of suffering, underscored by the relentless roar of flames. Dallax moves among the survivors like a shadow, crushing and burning any who dare to resist.

As the last pockets of resistance are snuffed out, you land amidst the ruins, stepping down from Dallax’s back. You scan the battlefield, taking in the broken fortifications, the piles of charred corpses, and the men who now kneel in surrender. Victory is yours. The Stepstones are won.

Daemon approaches, blood splattered across his armor, a wild grin on his face. “Well done, nephew,” he says, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. “I thought I might have all the fun, but you’ve stolen quite the show.” His eyes gleam with shared triumph, the bond between you strengthened through battle and bloodshed. “The Crabfeeder will feast no more.”

You smirk, wiping sweat and grime from your brow. “Someone had to keep you from getting killed. I couldn’t let you take all the glory.”

He laughs, the sound cutting through the dying echoes of the battle. “You’re learning. Perhaps there’s more of me in you than anyone cares to admit.”

As Daemon moves to rally the remaining men, your thoughts drift, carried away on the winds of victory. The image of Alicent appears in your mind—her gentle smile, the way her hand rests on the curve of her belly, swollen with the child she carries. You think of your son, Aegon, barely more than a year old, his bright eyes so full of curiosity. It is for them that you fight, for the future you intend to build, for the family you have claimed as your own.

The taste of blood and ash lingers on your tongue, but underneath it all is the yearning to return to them, to hold Alicent in your arms and feel the soft weight of your son as he rests against your chest. You think of how you will recount this victory to them—how Aegon will listen in awe, his little hands reaching out as if to grasp the tales of dragons and battles. You smile to yourself, imagining the way Alicent will scold you softly for the bloodshed, though you know she will be proud all the same.

“Soon,” you murmur to yourself, the words almost lost in the wind. “Soon I’ll be home.”

But for now, the battle is done, and the Stepstones are yours. The fires burn low as you gaze out over the broken landscape, your thoughts with your family, even as your dragon’s shadow stretches long over the conquered land, a reminder of the price of victory.

[ghostieyanyan]

Could you do a Demon!Poly!Scarabia x AngelF!MC comic?

In which Jamil and Kalim are a couple of Demon Kings, but they felt that something was missing, or rather someone. And one day while walking through the forest, they find/meet MC, the Princess of Angels with her back bleeding, which leaves them both worried, so after using a spell to heal their wounds, they discover the truth about the Kingdom of Angels, that they pretend to be good just to have the adoration of humans and fight and kill demons for no reason and for power, and when MC protected and saved a demon who was going to be killed unjustly, her own parents ripped off her wings as "punishment for defending an evil demon", and before they could do anything else with her, MC fled to the forest, it turns out that this demon she saved was Najma, Jamil's sister who had been missing for a week, So as a thank you, Jamil and Kalim decided to welcome MC into their kingdom to help her hide from the angels, in addition to helping her expose the true face of angels to humans, but for the MC to be able to live and survive in the Demon Kingdom, she would have to drink a drop of blood from both kings of the kingdom and she did, and because of the blood, MC regained her wings, but now they were black. And during that time, the three began to fall in love with each other, and after exposing the truth to humans and the angels being banished, Jamil, MC and Kalim got married.

This was MC's angelic appearance before she had her wings ripped off and became part demon after drinking the blood of the JamiKali:

What do you think?

hehehe... i love it x3 ive thought about different story lines to do and i think i thought of one that you might enjoy. hopefully lol This is isnt going to be in the same setting as the orginal demon au but it'll still use demons and angels

~Oh no! Youre still a good angel~

Yan!Demon!Jamil x Angel!mc x Yan!???!Kalim

Warnings: yandere, themes about heaven and hell, murder, blood, kidnapping, stalking,

~~~~~

You were a freshly made angel. Made to guide innocent souls into the pearl gates of heaven! This isn't your first human and it wont be your last! You take pride in helping souls see the light and spreading that joy in the world until their last moments.

You learned to love the souls that you guide. Watching their growth and struggles, then watching them over come their struggles and become an amazing person that others can find strength in. doing your job is your heavenly pleasure.

This time, you were assigned a human named, Kalim Al-Asim. An innocent human that finds mayhem everywhere he goes. Assassins that try to kill him through food being poison to just being jumped in the streets.

Your heart broke watching this sweet boy being chased by thugs left and right. You knew you had to do something.

when you got to his home, with a little invisibility spell that makes you undetectable to mortal's eyes, you noticed that this boy's life, besides the murder attempts, was actually very nice. His family takes great care of him and they make lots of money.

"maybe that's why there's so many murder attempts made? why do humans care so much about these physical items..?"

"It's because human's need to sin."

You jumped at the mysterious voice and turn to find eyes piercing at you. It was a man! He was standing in the shadows so you couldn't make out his features. You stayed quiet and still. If this is a ordinary human, then he shouldn't have heard you, or even see you. But if he isn't an ordinary human, this could mean trouble.

Neither of you made a move, it was almost like either one of you were waiting for the other to jump...

Something finally happened as Kalim walked into the room you both were in to grab a cup of water. Kalim stayed for a bit until he went back upstairs to go back to sleep.

Once you heard Kalim's bedroom door clicked shut. The shadow jumped at you. you nearly dodged it but quickly ran to the balcony, opened your wings and took off.

even though you could cast a spell that made you invisible to mortals, it doesn't mean that the noise you make will be muted.

you were about to return to your home until something slams into you, grabbing you in mid air.

When you opened your eyes, you saw the same eyes that were looking at you before. this time with the help of the moonlight, you saw his features. dark skin and black hair, he had blacked out eyes with the pupils being grey. He wore black, red, and gold accents clothing. But the more important parts of him are his pointy ears, black wings and.. horns.

"Hello there~ I'm Jamil Viper. I'm the demon that was assigned... to you."

You tried your best at struggling but his grip on you was too strong. But what does he mean assigned to you? doesn't he mean, assign to the human..? you eventually stop your struggling to talk to him, maybe you could wait until he's distracted and fly off..?

"Youve got me. What are you gonna do now..? ...Cut off my wings? um..."

you drew a blank thinking of other torture methods. Then again, that is a demon's strong suit, it probably comes to them like second nature..

"Why in the realms would i do such a thing? You're wings are one of your greatest charms~"

Jamil pulls you close, speaking right to your face.

"I'll let you protect that HUMAN. But mind you, i will come back again-"

Black shadow-like clouds form, swallowing him up.

"- and when i do, i will collect."

You shut your eyes, still feeling his hands around you until the very end. when you open your eyes, he was gone and you were alone in the night sky...

~~~

The past few days, you've been on edge. both worried that the demon might come back to hurt Kalim or you. You tried your best to stay focused but you kept feeling the piercing eyes like someone is watching you.

The things that Jamil said is still stuck in your mind. the wording was strange. You weren't used to dealing with demons and you didn't have time to ask any other angels about it so you just have to go with your instincts... and what your instincts is telling you to do right now is to protect Kalim... as best as you can.

To say this was a hard mission, was an understatement. You loved your job, but with the paranoia about Jamil and protecting Kalim. you felt like you were on a fine line...

You were scared that if you weren't careful, someone might get hur-

"my my~ You look awful.."

You spun your head around and saw Jamil, standing by the door way. He had a knife in one hand and rope in the other. You grabbed the nearest weapon, a knife, and threw it at the demon!

Jamil smirked and faded into the mist, leaving the knife.. imbedded into one of Kalim's maid that was just passing by!

She stumbled a bit before leaning against a nearby wall for support.

Your body became ice cold as you rushed to the maid's side and inspected her wounds. She was coughing a lot of blood and she held her wound with one hand. Tears ran down her face as she looked around confused and scared. You tried your best at helping her but it was useless. she was gone in minutes and no one was around to help...

You felt cold, this has never happened before and you weren't prepared for this kind of event. the angels gave you advice about "things you should know about humans", but they never mentioned anything if you were to accidently take a life!!!

You heard Kalim yell. You turn to look at him as he runs to check the maid.

"Oh no! Oh no! I'm so sorry!! ugh... ill have to call her loved ones..."

Hot tears started to fall from your face. what were you suppose to do..? What's gonna happen to this person? what's gonna happen to you?? all you could really do was hold the body in your arms and kept repeating "I'm sorry"s.

"My my~ what will the heavens think of this..? their sweet angel... murdering an innocent soul"

You slowly turns to see Jamil looking down at you, with a sickening smile. You felt so many feelings you've never felt before. Rage, hatred, disgusted, sadness, depression, and... fear.

Jamil walks towards you and kneels to your level.

"Heaven might not accept you now. But we will~"

"Don't worry, angel~ you're still a good angel to me~"

You slowly turn to look at Kalim. he was looking straight at you, giving you his bright smile.

Jamil tried to reach out for you but you quickly pushed him to the side and took flight. Maybe if you explain to them what happened, they'll forgive you. You open a portal and tried flying through. Not only did you fly through but the portal failed. Instead of going to your sweet home to feel the warmth of your angel comrades, you felt the burning feeling of your wings changing from white to black.

It felt horrible. felt like hot tar was being poured on your wings. you screamed in pain. the pain got so unbearable that you couldn't maintain altitude. you started to fall.

you watched as this was likely the last time you'll see the pretty blue sky and those comfy white clouds...

You watched as your tears fall in a different pace than you...

You watched as your halo disappears from your head...

You closed your eyes as you just felt numb to everything. allowing yourself to just fall.

you felt something strange, when you opened your eyes, you looked and saw Kalim with Jamil! Kalim with his horns and tail...

They were both looking at you, smiling. A smile that made your stomach turn.

Everything finally clicked.

They lure you in with the innocent human act!

Youve should have known from that first night, when you ran into Jamil. How Kalim conveniently joined both of you. The stares from Jamil, in the shadows, and Kalim, in the daylight, that stayed on you a little too long.

And that maid... that unfortunate maid. She wasn't suppose to be there... unless it was all planned.

Jamil made sure to were uneasy and paranoid and Kalim made it so that if your fight or flight kicks in, you'll fight to protect a "poor defenseless human"

They wanted you to fall...

You were tricked by these TWO HORRIBLE DEMONS!!!

~~~

~~~

[priniya]

hii, this is very specific but do you think you could write something involving fem!reader who grew up with sirius and they’re childhood best friends (but it’s only ever going to be platonic between them) and one day she transfers to hogwarts and immediately has a thing for james, however james doesn’t wanna make a move because he thinks her & sirius have some unspoken thing? <3

UNSPOKEN THINGS!

synopsis. growing up with sirius black was easy, but falling in love with his best friend was even easier. however, everything gets complicated — james keeps his distance, overthinking your relationship with sirius.

notes. i wouldn’t lie if i said i didn’t like that request, because i LOVE IT!!!! THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING SM?? obv. james potter x fem!reader. maybe ooc james. gonna make a part 2!

all the good things that had taken place during your childhood had always happened with sirius black by your side. having him next to you was like a pearl you’d never trade for anything. sneaking out at night as children to spend a little more time with each other, pulling small pranks on your siblings, and having a companion for every banquet was something priceless.

you wished that your friendship would survive the sudden shift, caused by your mother’s dream to come back to her roots in southern france, and who was your father to disobey the love of his life? so, he barely turned eleven, when you bid goodbyes, gave him your future address, and hoped he’d write.

since sirius black has always been a man of his words, he did not disappointed you with the amount of letters he’d sent you. some may think that it slowly died down, when you got to school, although it just intensified. you were certain that he told you at least the majority of his stories, confiding in that he was head over heels with remus, his schoolmate.

telling him you were coming back to england was definitely the letter you were delighted to write. seeing him after those years was magical — almost miraculous. unfortunately, something got delayed and you got to london the same day you’d leave for hogwarts.

“sirius!” a laughter left your mouth as soon as you noticed the black-haired boy, standing next to a group of teenagers. before sirius even realized, you threw your arms around his neck, clutching him in a tight hug.

“you’re finally here!” he shouted, lifting you few inches off the ground with a smile, earning a lot of confused looks from all his friends. “couldn’t get any later, could you?” the boy rolled eyes at you, turning his head to face the confused group. “this is y/n, my first best friend.” with that, his arm was thrown around your shoulder, squeezing you a little.

before any of them spoke out, you got at least two seconds to look at them, memorizing their distinguished features, which could help you recognize them later. the boy standing the closest to you, who, you guessed, was james — the only one beside remus that sirius actually put a thought into writing about.

“nice to meet you.” he was first to greet you, embracing you in a short hug, something in his cologne almost made you lightheaded, his scent staying in your mind till falling asleep that night. “sirius couldn’t stop talking about you, always blah blah blah.”

“shut up, could you?” sirius retorted, pulling you away from the potter boy.

few hours later, you were trying to settle in your new dorm, when you heard a knock on the door. “hey.” a head peaked inside before you even got to open them. “am not interrupting something, am i?” potter asked, smile rosing on his lips as he walked in.

“noo, just trying to make this place more like mine, you know?” you smiled back, putting down a few frames with photos of you and your friends back in beauxbatons. “while you’re here, could you help me with putting books on the shelves?” curly-haired boy nodded his head eagerly, before taking a pile of books to put them where you wanted.

it was almost perfect — he was about to put the last one in its place, but something was wrong, and the book fell down, and hit him right in the nose, causing a nosebleed. “shit!” he groaned, immediately grabbing the hem of his shirt, using it like a tissue.

“merde, james i’m so sorry.” you mumbled, embarrassed. the towel quickly found its way to your hand, putting it close to his nose gently. “i’ll try to be as gentle as i can, i promise.” you whispered.

the distance between you was intimidating. his eyes focused on your faces as you carefully tried to stop the bleeding, your cheeks getting warmer with each second his sight was on you. “i’m a man made of steel, it’s fine.” he chuckled, eyes squinting right afterwards.

“i can see that.” you laughed softly, pulling the fabric away, seeing that the bleeding stopped. “don’t worry, you’re still the pretty boy you were before you got here.” blush creeped onto his cheeks upon hearing your comment.

and you stayed like that until sirius stepped into the room without knocking, catching the two of you barely inches away from each other, talking in hushed voices about something insignificant. music you like, movies you want to watch, fun summer stories and anything that found its way to your tounges.

the next few weeks were horrible, having yourself busy with all the workload you got, revising all the things you weren’t taught at your previous school, but they were compulsory at hogwarts. maybe if a certain curly-haired boy wasn’t on your mind 24/7, it’d be easier to study.

“y/n, good to see you!” marlene smiled, grabbing your arm as you were walking back to the common room after the study session you had at the library. “ready for the party?” she asked, grinning widely.

the question had taken you off guard — there was supposed to be a party and you were supposed to be ready by then? to be honest, the amount of time you put into studying, made you so exhausted you were barely standing on your own. on the other hand, the raging urge to impress sirius’ friends (specifically james) was unstoppable, and refusing the party was the last thing on your priority list.

“i’ll be in thirty minutes.” quickly, you matched her smile, stepping into the already crowded gryffindor common room, only to find sirius on the coffee table with james. “guys, this is my best friend, y/n! the party is for her!” your best friend shouted to the people, earning a few laughs and claps.

you laughed along the people, catching a brief glance of james, locking eyes with him for a little too long until he looked away, cheeks tinted pinkish. “geez, pads. let the poor girl change…?” mckinnon shook her head, pulling you away from black.

“so…” she beamed, closing the door behind her. “what’s going on with you and james?” she asked with ease, making herself comfortable on your bed, watching your inept attempts to hide how easy it was for james to make you lit up.

“nothing.” you shrugged. “geez, i feel bad for saying this since he’s sirius’ other best friend, but sometimes i really wish there was something going on. you know, he’s kind, funny, and cute.” a sigh escaped from between your lips as you looked through all the cute dresses your older sister made you buy last summer in italy.

“that’s what i thought.” she giggled, picking up makeup accessories. “well, from the way he looks at you, he seems to think you’re cute too.” she made a pause. “or he’s jealous of you, and doesn’t want to lose sirius.”

upon hearing that you decided to tell the blonde girl about those few evenings, when he just happened to be walking past your dorm and stayed with you for the whole night. “then he’s definitely interested in you.” marlene gasped, immediately jumping onto the spot next to you, grabbing the fitted, silky, red dress. “we’re gonna make him make a move. i swear, this boy won’t be able to stop himself.”

twenty-five minutes later, when you were already done with shower and trying to convince marlene to let you do make up on your own (which didn’t work out and she wanted to do it herself), you were sitting in front of the girl, legs crossed as she did the perfect line on your eyelid, once in a while stealing a glance of your bra.

“think about me if things are shitty with potter, yeah?” her smile made you roll eyes jokingly. “okayy, let’s take a quick pic of the masterpiece and go.” she quickly grabbed the camera from a shelf, snapped a picture of you, and her in the mirror, and left the room shortly after.

you remember the look james gave you, when he finally noticed you came back. he didn’t know if it was just him, but you looked like you could compete with world-level models. seeing you like that caused his heart to do a flip. just when he was about to walk up to you, sirius found his place somewhere next to you, close enough to sent james a signal to back off.

potter instantly assumed that there had to be something between the two of you, mostly by how touchy sirius would become whenever you were around, having his arm thrown around your shoulders or always somehow embracing your waist. and stealing his best friend’s girlfriend was the last thing he ever wanted to do, even if he felt he clicked with you.

as soon as sirius handed you the red cup filled with a liquid you assumed was alcohol, you let yourself forget about the whole thing with james. chugging down the cup as fast as you only could, trying to win the little competition with the black boy.

few hours later, when the entire party began to die down, james was trying to get to his dorm, completely sober, but then he noticed you sitting on the stairs, your knees and palms covered in blood. “shit.” he mumbled under his breath, debating in his mind if he should just walk the other way around or help you, and…

“what… happened?” he sat beside you, his stomach doing few more flips, seeing how your face lightened up at the sound of his voice. “y/n could you talk to me?”

“i fell down the stairs.” you grimaced, head leaned against his shoulder. “one of the seventh years suggested i should go to my own room, but i couldn’t move, ‘cos it hurts.” the grimace was replaced by a pout.

a sigh left his mouth as he picked you up, without saying a word — he believed it’d be easier to help you, and immediately leave than if he’d started a conversation with you. the whole walk to your dorm was silent, none of you hadn’t even let out a whimper until you were seated on your bed, while james tried to take proper care of your scrapped knees.

“are you mad at me?” you whispered softly, tilting your head to the side to get a better look at him. the sadness in your tone made his heart clutch. “why aren’t you speaking then? we hardly even talked today.” you added, when he just shook his head.

“i don’t want to do something, both of us might regret later.” his reply was strange, did he really think you’d regret anything that includes him in any way?

after that, the room remained silent — wordlessly, james handed you clothes that seemed like a good pyjamas material and turned away while you shamelessly changed. “can you stay with me?” you asked, stopping him in his tracks.

“of course.”

he laid down beside you, his eyes focused on the ceiling above. “have you ever thought how would your life looked like if you stayed in england?” the question left his mouth swiftly. “or if you never got back, do you think you’d fall out of touch with sirius?”

“there’s always a possibility that could happen, but i don’t think so, you know.” you answered, shifting on the mattress to see that he was already looking at you. “however, there were times when i thought he would throw away all those years of friendship.”

his curious gaze made you continue. “two years ago, he told me all about his plans with you. that you’d live together, far enough from his parents to not be threatened by them, but close enough to visit your parents every weekend. it sounds funny now, but all those plans — the apartment somewhere in the southern london, traveling and other stuff were exactly what we’d planned before i was forced to leave. that’s the only letter from sirius i didn’t keep. i couldn’t, it was a sign that the friendship wouldn’t last forever, so i burned it.” you shrugged, laying the fluffy blanket on top of your bodies. “i really wanted to hate you for this all those years, you know? but you seemed too fun to do so, coming here just made me more certain.” that was the first time in the whole evening that you’ve heard him laugh, feeling as if his normal self was coming back to you.

“look where we ended up.” the smile on his face was contagious. you beamed, laughing. you were so jealous of james two years earlier, and now you didn’t want him to leave the warm sheets of your bed. his face was getting so close to yours, you let yourself think he wanted to kiss you for a moment. maybe it was just the intoxication? “i don’t know where this might go, so i’m gonna say it know. i want us to stay on friends basis, please.”

and with those words it was your time to turn silent, acting sleepy to make him think you were about to drift off to sleep. “don’t worry, that’s what i wanted too.” you muttered with your eyes closed.

from that moment on, you hardly even spent time with james anymore, always finding an excuse to bail out if someone even suggested that you should hangout with them. the way you two acted was growing suspicious, and who would remus be if he didn’t notice?

“you’re sulking.” lupin retorted, when it was only james and he in their dorm, both pretending to not paying attention to one another. “care to elaborate? it’s been a month since you got so grumpy.”

“you won’t tell sirius?” potter tilted his head to the side, putting away the magazine he was reading and looked directly at his friend, who shook his head. “it’s about y/n.”

“so? you seemed to get along well when she got here.” remus frowned. “i mean-, you’re right, but then there was the party in october and uh, we almost kissed. i wanted to kiss her, but i quite panicked.” the seeker explained, making the werewolf to deepen his frown. “james, i swear to god what have you done?”

but remus already know. marlene had told him a few days after the party that the two lovebirds were drifting away, and prongs was definitely the reason of the sudden change in their dynamics. until now, he was just looking for a chance to speak with him about it.

“i said i wanted to keep it on friends basis, she rarely talks to me ever since.” he sighed, turning down the volume of the radio. “i really wanted to keep talking to her without breaking sirius’ heart if something between us happened.”

“wait.” the frown was now an unchanging part of remus’ face. “why do you think you’d possibly break pads’ heart if you started dating y/n?” lupin shifted on his bed, yet to connect all the dots.

james grimaced at the thought of his response, wasn’t it obvious? “well, it’s against the brocode to steal someone’s girlfriend, isn’t it?” upon hearing that, remus choked on water, confusing his friend even more.

“prongs.” the blonde boy laughed, making his way towards the other boy. “i believe that if you started dating y/n, sirius would be far from heartbroken, and he wouldn’t consider you a girlfriend thief.” another bursts of laughter escaped from between lupin’s lips as he clutched his stomach. “if you’d like to break his heart, you’d have to steal someone else, not a girl he considers a sister.”

all remus regretted that moment was that he left his camera at lily’s, so he was unable to capture the funniest expression on james’ face, he has ever seen. “you should really talk to her, to at least explain yourself.” he squeezed his friend’s knee in reassurance, before james stood up. “i’d look for her in marl’s dorm, if i were you.” he hinted, disappearing behind bathroom’s doors.

you sat on marlene’s bed with dorcas right next to you, her arm thrown around your shoulder as you drunk the wine, she bought specifically for that evening. it happened to be the day, when girls had their weekly girls’ night, so mckinnon thought you should tagged along.

the knocking on the door interrupted lily’s story about remus and hers trip to edinburgh last summer, and the one hot girl she met back then. “hey, is y/n there?” james’ voice rang loudly in the room, giving you shivers. you couldn’t have a day without thinking of him, could you?

marlene flashed you a look, before looking back at him. “i don’t know, do you think she’d like to talk to you?” she crossed arms at her chest, watching the rosing confusion on his face, before you appeared in the view, ruining the whole scary girl gig. “we’ll be right here, love.” she nudged you lightly as you walked out of the room, closing the door behind you.

“heard you were looking for me…?” you asked, muscles stiff at the thought of being one on one with him. “can we do it quickly? my wine’s bottle is probably emptied by dorcas now.” you chuckled, trying to sound as calm as you only could.

“i don’t want to be friends anymore.” his confession made your heart twitch. the alcohol running in your veins almost made you vulnerable in front of him. the sigh that left your mouth was his signal to realize you misunderstood him. “you really came up here to tell me that?”

it was getting pretty bad, and james knew, there was one thing he could do that wouldn’t mess up what he wanted to tell you. hands flew to your cheeks, cupping them with his palms as leaned in to kiss you. it was definitely unexpected — but you couldn’t resist him, the thing you’ve wanted so bad, finally came true. james’ lips on yours.

he took his time before pulling away, and when he did, you were reminded that there was world beside him. all the misery you were in was long gone, just by seeing the smile on his face. “i’m sorry.” the seeker began, his eyes tracing around your face but not stopping on your eyes once. “i misinterpreted the relationship between you and padfoot, and it got all messy in my head. i thought you two were… you know, a thing.”

a quiet chuckle escaped from between your lips, caressing his cheek gently with a thumb, involuntarily smiling at his vivid embarrassment. “james,” you spoke out softly, amusement still audible in your tone. “hypothetically, if sirius and i were a thing, would i really invite you to spend time in my room, one on one, always suggesting that you should stay overnight? you, my hypothetical boyfriend’s best friend?”

“well, i haven’t thought about it.” he shrugged, smile tugging on his face. “nonetheless, i’m taking you on a date, but don’t tell sirius. i’m sure he’s going to kill me for hitting up on you.” james scoffed, hair getring ruffled by his fingers.

“when did i agree on going on a date with you?” you asked, biting back a smile, at the same time trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “don’t worry, i’ve never told on a cute boy before.”

he opened his mouth to reply, but marlene opened the door and snatched you inside, before you could even react, her action earning a few laughs in response. “excuse me, lover boy, but the time is up!” the blonde laughed, visibly tipsy, and disappeared behind the door.

now, james potter had two things to do — figure out where should he take you out, and how to tell his best friend that he wants to date his childhood best friend.

[steven1123x]

A Half-Gem Boy’s Adventures In The Creek: Chapter one

Steven and Greg relocate from Delaware to Maryland in order to help Steven transition away from gem-related activities and towards a more typical life with peers his own age.

🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳

A mid-1970s Dodge Tradesman drove down a road in. The van was a white, two-door, open pickup truck with a unique design. The van has a large logo on the side that says “Mr. Universe." It appears to be a customized vehicle, as it is painted in bright colors and has a distinctive look.

Inside the van were two people, a man who had long brown hair, and a brown beard. The man wore a black T-shirt. He also had blue eyes.

Next to the man was a boy, who had curly hair, he wore a red star t-shirt, cuffed jeans, and salmon pink flip-flops.

But what was unique about the boy was that he was half alien — Half Gem to be specific from his mother’s side.

“Dad! why did we have to move?” the boy asked. His father looked at him, a concerned look on his face. He didn’t want them to move. But to keep his son safe he had to. The man spoke;

“Because, Schu-Ball. Pearl and the others wanted you safe and not involved in this stuff. I… I thought I lost you when Jasper kidnapped and held you prisoner. I was so scared that day. Maybe this new life isn’t going to be so bad. You're going to make a lot of new friends in Herkleton.”

Steven just sighed and looked out the window, the radio was playing rock music, and the boy put his palm to his cheek and stared out the window.

🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳

Twenty minutes later, they were in Maryland, Steven looked at the city. Greg turned to a neighborhood, it’s For Sale sign was still up on the front lawn with a little wooden board that said 'SOLD' on it in big red letters, Greg stopped his van

Steven sees a two-story home with a modern design, situated on a quiet suburban street. The house is painted in a light gray color and features a large front porch with a porch swing. The front of the home is covered with a roofline that provides an expansive outdoor living space for relaxation and entertainment.

The house is surrounded by lush greenery, including trees and bushes, creating a peaceful atmosphere. The presence of a car parked near the front of the house suggests that the owners have a driveway, providing convenient access to the home. The overall design of the house and its surroundings reflect the harmonious blend of nature and modern architecture, making it a desirable place to live.

Steven looked at the home in question…. It was nothing like the beach house/Crystal Temple, but. It was a house….

Greg grabbed the keys from the key box that was by the door, he stuck it in and opened the lock, the house was already fully furnished. Steven stands there at the front entrance. His dad put all of their things inside.

“Why won’t you help me, Sthu-Ball?” he asked.

Can’t he see that I’m hurting? that my friends are gone now because of THIS! CAN’T HE SEE THAT?

Steven wiped some tears that were coming out of his eyes. Greg saw him and put a box down, he was about to walk up towards him, but Steven backed away.

“I want to be alone,” he muttered

“Steven—“

“I SAID I WANT TO BE ALONE!” he screamed. Without thinking, Steven ran out the door. he ran into the woods and kept on running, he wanted to go back home! he missed everyone, Pearl, Amethyst, Garnet, Sadie, Lars, Buck, Sour Cream, Jenny, Kiki.

And Connie.

Steven ran and ran until he was out of breath as he put his hands on his knees, the boy heard something. The Half-Gem looked up and gasped, he saw a bunch of kids, He was looking at a lush green forest with trees and bushes, giving it a natural and serene atmosphere. There was a large cooler in the middle of the creek, surrounded by kids who were going to trade in stuff for snacks and supplies. A few other items can be seen scattered around the scene, such as a backpack on the ground and a bottle near the cooler.

In addition to the cooler, there are two smaller objects placed on the ground, one closer to the left side of the frame and another one on the right side. These objects could be anything from rocks or fallen leaves to small animals or other natural elements that have been gathered in the creek.

Steven walks to the cooler and reads the sign. ‘The Trading Tree.’ Steven saw a girl standing there.

“You have anything to trade?” A girl said, Steven looked at her. She has brown skin, dark brown braided pigtails with a widow's peak, and wears glasses. She wears a light blue shirt. She also wears a keychain around her neck with five different keys on it.

“Um…I’m new here. What is this place?”

“This is the Creek! I’m Kit, what’s your name?”

“Steven Universe.”

“Like the show?” she asked in disbelief.

“Yeah.”

“Is your middle name really after Rose Quartz?”

“Yeah,” he said awkwardly.

Kit knew that she’d seen him from somewhere before, and his name did sound familiar to her, she smiled “Oh, since your new. here is something for free.” she said pulling out a choco roll that came with two choco rolls in the rapping, Steven smiled.

“Make sure that you have something to trade for tomorrow, alright?” Steven smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. He walked away from The Trading Tree and found a log to sit down at to eat his snack.

Steven opened the wrapper and began to eat the sweet chocolatey roll. As a girl walks up towards him. Steven looked at the girl, she was about nine. the girl was fairly short She had peach skin, ankle-length strawberry-blonde hair tied into a large bun at the back of her head, she also had brown eyes. “Hello! I’m Steven.” the boy said, sounding much happier than he did before.

“Hi, I’m, Kelsey,” she said, extending a hand. Steven took her hand and shook it. The boy smiled at her. “Hey, you wanna meet my friends?”

Steven nodded and stood up. They both walked to an area with a tree stump, her friends were there.

“Hey Craig, JP! I’m back, and I met this boy!” she said. Steven still stood next to her Craig walked up.

“Hi, I’m Crag Williams!”

“And I’m JP.” the taller boy said.

Steven looks at both of them; JP is tall compared to most kids in the creek. He has light skin, a large head with proportionally smaller cheeks, black eyes, and eyebrows, and red hair.

He also wears a long-sleeve orange and white striped V-neck hockey jersey, black shoes, and tan pants with a tear on his right knee.

Then he looks at Craig;

Craig is of normal stature for a ten-year-old boy and is rather slim. He has dark skin, large eyes, similarly sized ears, a prominent flat nose, and black hair. His head is also large in proportion to his body, he is the same height as Steven.

“Hi!” Steven said.

“Hi!” Craig and JP both waved at the boy.

“Um, what do you do here?”

“You get to play all day until it’s time for dinner, or on weekdays until six, but we can play all day long since it’s summer vacation,” Craig said. Steven was confused by this until six, how come?

“Um, I have a question. Why until six?” Steven asked the three kids.

“We have school. So we get to the creek at three and play for three hours.”

“School?”

“Oh, right! you're a gem. It’s a building that you have to go to and learn a bunch of stuff.” Craig said. Steven nods. He thinks it sounds miserable, being in a building for eight hours a day, sitting down in a classroom, and being told what to do by a teacher. He got that enough already from Pearl.

But, on the other hand… He could be a normal kid and go to school with them. Steven looks at them, he’d just met these kids a few minutes ago. “Hey, me Kelsey and JP are going to the Candy Bar, you wanna come?”

Steven smiled at that, Finally. No responsibilities of being a Crystal Gem, he can be a kid for once in his life! He looked up. “Alright! let’s do it!” he said.

They walked to the other side of the creek, which wasn’t being controlled by the king of the creek anymore, King Xaver. Kids can play freely without the king telling them what to do.

🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳

Steven was walking with them when they saw a large tree, and he took a second to look at it. He saw a hole that was made up of leaves, Craig, Kelsey, and JP all walked inside, and Steven did too.

He heard a piano playing, two boys were playing as kids of all ages were getting candy and soda from the bartender.

“Four sodas, please,” Craig said.

“Craig!” a boy said, walking behind the counter. Steven observed the boy; He had dark brown, chocolate hair, and burnt-sienna skin. His face flaunts a near-constant blush and he is thinner, as well as a little taller than Steven.

He also wore a tucked-in hoodie with gray shorts and white shoes.

“Hey, Shawn!” JP said.

“Hey, guys. How can I help you?”

“Can we get gummy worms and gummy fish with soda please?” Craig asked.

“Sure.” He said, pulling out four plastic mugs placing soda in each of them, and filling them up with the gummy candies.

“Thanks, Shawn!” he said carrying the two in his hands, then going back and getting the other two.

“Here, Steven,” he said, placing the pink plastic cup in front of him. Steven looked at it.

“Um… Is this even edible?”

“I drink it all the time!” JP said, putting his mug down, two gummy worms hung from his mouth. Steven picked it up and took a sip. He bit into the gummy candy and smiled.

“Hey!” he said, clewing it. “This is pretty good!” he said, continuing to eat/drink it. Craig, Kelsey, and JP all smiled.

Steven heard a tuba playing a single note and someone yelling ‘Dinner’

“What was that?”

“Oh, that’s the dinner tuba. It signals everyone to go inside and have dinner.”

“But… I have dinner whenever I want to.” Steven said, walking with Craig.

“Oh, but you want to go home right?

Steven nodded. they both went in the same direction to their houses. Craig opened the door to his house.

“Hey! It looks like we're neighbors!” Steven said, about to open his door.

“Yeah! well, see you tomorrow, Steven!” he said, going inside. Steven went inside the house as well. Then a familiar ringtone rang out, Steven smiled as it said ‘Connie’ on his phone’s screen, it was a picture of him and her in Beach City. Steven was holding up two fingers to make a peace sign. Connie was smiling and making a funny face. Her glasses were tucked in her shirt. Steven smiled and answered the phone.

“Hey, Connie!” Steven said happily, he was glad that he was able to talk to her on the phone, Maybe she could come over to spend a day in the Creek with him and his new friends.

“Hey! How’s Maryland?” that was her first question.

“It’s so fun! I met new friends and went to this place called the creek. it’s a vast place where kids can play!”

“That sounds so cool! Oh, can’t talk now, I'm going to have dinner soon, I’ll talk to you later!” Connie said, hanging up.

Steven went deeper into the house. He looked at some boxes on the floor that were unpacked yet. Steven texted his dad, wondering where he was. When he got a text back that he was getting sushi for dinner. Steven felt relieved that he wasn’t hurt.

The boy walked upstairs and went into his room, his room was fully furnished also with a bed and a desk. He sighed and started unpacking the box that said ‘STEVEN’S ROOM’ in a black Sharpie and a bunch of star stickers.

Steven opened the box and saw that all his stuff was inside. He picked up a purple controller that was tied up.

Probably Pearl did that. he thought to himself

He unpacked his posters. Then he found his GameCube that was at the bottom of the box. Steven set the purple Nintendo console on his desk with the controller that came with it, then he unpacked more stuff.

Greg reached the door with two boxes of sushi, one salmon for himself and one cucumber and avocado for Steven.

“Steven?” he called out, setting the boxes and his keys down on the kitchen counter.

Steven walked downstairs, hearing the sound of his father’s voice. The boy walked towards him, Greg smiled and knelt to his level. “Hey… You alright? you kinda got a little emotional a few hours ago.” Steven nodded in silence. Greg smiled once more.

“Come on, I brought us some dinner.” Steven sighed, grabbed his trey of sushi, then left. “I’m gonna go eat in my room.” Greg watched sadly as Steven walked upstairs to his room to continue unpacking. He walked out back and opened the sliding glass door and saw a man. He wore a blue polo shirt with white jeans and green shoes. He has curly black hair with a slither of gray in the middle and a black beard.

Greg waves at the man.

“Hey!” the man said.

“Hi! I’m Greg Universe!” he said.

“I’m Duane Williams.”

“Hi Duane,” he said.

“Duane! come and help me!” his wife called out from the kitchen.

“Coming, Nichole!” he said, walking back inside the house. Greg looked at his sushi for a few minutes, He put his sushi in the fridge and sat in the living room.

Pulling out his phone, he decided to text Pearl.

🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳

Steven’s phone played Your the Anchor That Keeps My Feet on The Ground by Mayday Parade. He was lying on his bed. He was halfway done packing. He decided to take a break, his tray of sushi was left on his desk, Steven sighed and turned his body, the boy sighed, he missed his home and his friends.

He can’t run away…. Maybe he can call Pearl to come pick him up. He paused his music and sat up. He scrolled down to Pearl’s contact and his finger hovered over the blue number.

He wanted to call her so bad. But he can’t do it.

Steven Quartz Universe, what are you waiting for, do it!

Steven sighed and put his phone down, he closed his eyes and went to bed. Another day awaited for him at the creek.

🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳

Steven opened his eyes, yawned, and stretched. He took his empty tray down to the kitchen. Steven went back upstairs, went into his bathroom, and turned on the faucet to brush his teeth.

Once he was done, he went to his closet and picked out a shirt, he picked out his red star t-shirt and slipped it over his head. Steven grabbed a pair of jeans and put them on, then socks with a pair of black Nike low tops and put them on. Steven looked around his room, he could unpack the rest of his things later.

He opened the door and walked down the hall. His dad was still asleep probably. it was eight in the morning, and he still hadn’t found a job yet, granted, they did move in yesterday.

Steven walked downstairs, his shoes touching the white tile flooring of the house, he went to the kitchen, but he remembered that they hadn’t bought any food yet for the house, so Steven decided to go next door.

Opening the door, the boy walked to the Williams house and knocked on the door. A woman opened the door. The woman initially was wearing a blue shirt with gray jeans and black shoes. She switched to wearing a black shirt with beige pants. She wears gold earrings. She has black braided hair.

“Hello, and what is your name?”

“Steven.” he said. The woman smiled. Craig had told her about this boy yesterday, and he’d also told her that he was half-alien.

“Of course. I heard from Craig you and your father moved in yesterday,” she said, Steven nodded. Steven walked into the house and went to the kitchen, Craig was eating cereal.

“Hi, Craig!” he said cheerfully.

“Hi, Steven! do you want to have breakfast with us?” Steven nodded and sat down.

Nichole handed him a bowl, Steven poured the cereal and milk. Then a boy walked downstairs in a work uniform. Steven looked at him;

He seems to be an average-height male who wears glasses with the whole top of his glasses black and he has tall black hair with shaved sides. He wore a green polo shirt, khaki pants with an apron with pockets on the front, he’s wearing red and white sneakers. The boy also wears a brown watch on his right wrist.

“Do you want some breakfast before you go to work, Bernard?” Nichole asked. Bernard shook his head.

“No,” he said, putting his backpack on his back, and grabbing his phone.

Steven turned to look at Craig. “Hey, Craig. where is your dad?”

“Oh, he’s probably looking for work. He hasn't found a job yet,” he said, putting his bowl on the counter, Steven stood up and did the same.

“Bye, mom! we're going to the creek now!” he said, running out with Steven following behind him.

🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳

Craig and Steven walked to the creek together. They saw Kelsey and JP waiting for them at the stump.

"Hey, guys!” Steven said.

“Hey!” Kelsey and JP both said. Steven waved. “Alright, what are we going to do today guys?” Craig said.

“We can be warriors and fight in the heat of battle!” Kelsey said, pulling out a PVC pipe taped with a piece of cardboard and a toilet paper roll.

“Yeah! And I will be your defense!” Steven said, summoning his shield from his gem.

“And we can be the bad guys who’ll try to destroy you!” Craig said, JP smiled and picked up a stick, Craig did the same and they played.

“Steven, cover me!” Kelsey said, Steven protected her as Craig and JP ‘struck’ them with their swords. Steven blocked the attacks.

‘Hey, Steven! you have anything to trade?” Kit asked.

Steven took out a few items from his pocket.

“I found this plastic ring in my room,” he said, putting it on the cooler, Kit smiled and nodded.

“Alright, Steven. What would ya like?” she asked, Steven thought about it for a few seconds.

“Do you have any chips?” he asked, Kit smiled and nodded, she pulled a lever that was attached to a filing cabinet, the cabinet pulled up and he saw slots for nine types of chips, Lays, Ruffles, Doritos, Cheetos, Pringles and popcorn. Steven looked at the section and thought for a few minutes.

“I want the ruffles, please,” he said, Kit grabbed the bag and handed it to him.

“Thank you, Kit,” he said, smiling at her and walking away from The Trading Tree.

Steven walked over to the stump. He then saw another boy he had his dreads in a ponytail with a single hair strand hanging on the right side and he was wearing a green shirt, that had light and dark green lines in a pattern, gray pants, and dark gray shoes.

“Hey, Steven! this is Omar.” Craig said, introducing the two boys to each other.

“Hi, Omar!” he said waving.

“So, Omar. how was that trip to California?” Craig asked, Omar popped the lollipop out his mouth and spoke;

“It was good, it was a lot of fun, I wanted to see the Walk Of Fame. That was cool!” he said. pulling up pictures from his phone, Steven looked at a gold star with a little TV set in the middle, and above it, it said 'STEVEN UNIVERSE’ on it.

“Woooah! Cool!” Steven said, stars in his eyes as he looked at the picture. Omar smiled and nodded.

“Hey, wanna go to the other side and go to The Creek’s Kitchen?” Steven was confused. These were some new places that he had never been to before. At the same time, he did move yesterday. So, he couldn’t complain much.

“Let’s go,” Omar said, walking ahead of them, Steven walked behind them, looking at the kids and the creek happily playing. Thankfully it was June, so he could play in the creek with Craig and his new friends.

🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳

“So, Steven. What was Deleware like?” Craig asked.

“It’s nice, I live on the beach, and my dad used to work at a car wash. And before that, he was a rock star.”

Craig remembered seeing an episode once where his father showed him a VHS tape about how his parents met each other. They both fell in love and eventually had Steven. But it came at a price. Rose and Steven couldn’t both exist, so Rose had to give up her physical form to birth to her son.

“That I know, and your mom gave up her body to have you,” Kelsey said, Steven nodded and put a hand up to his arm and rubbed it.

“You alright?” Kelsey asked.

Steven nods and they keep walking, they walk through the overpass to get to the other side.

The other side of the creek was a lot nicer than the other part of the creek, he’d been here yesterday to go to the Candy Bar, but it got more and more impressive to look at. Steven saw kids playing freely in the creek.

🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳

They walked to The Creek’s Kitchen — now called The Creek's Restaurant, he saw that the restaurant had tables and chairs set up. Steven remembers one time that he brought the Pizza restaurant and the Fry shop together in Beach City.

They all sat down, Steven saw a boy handing them menus. He saw the boy who was about his and Craig’s height. He has dark hair, dark blue-rimmed glasses which have one of the lenses knocked out, as well as a cast in a sling on his arm, due to his gathering mishaps.

“Hi, Craig.” the boy said.

“Hey, Tien,” he said waving, Steven looked over his menu.

MAIN DISHES

Grilled Cheese,

Sliders

Chicken tenders. (Buffalo, garlic, regular)

cookie selection (Oreo, chocolate chip, or frosted sugar cookies)

DRINKS:

Coke Zero

Water

Fanta

Root Beer

Lemonade

Kool-Aid

Regular Milk

Chocolate Milk

Strawberry Milk

Steven read the items. They all looked good,

“How many pieces of chicken are there?” Steven asked. seeing no description of the item. Tien walked over to the boy.

“There are five tenders. And you have some choices of sauces like ranch, barbecue, buffalo sauce, and honey mustard.”

“I love ranch!” the boy smiles.

“And what would you like to drink?” the boy smiles.

“A Coke Zero, please,” Steven said, Tien smiled again and wrote it down on his notepad.

“What would you guys like?” Tien asked

“I will have the Sliders with a lemonade,” Craig said.

“Kelsey and I will both share the cookie selection and two glasses of Chocolate milk,” JP said, Kelsey nodded in agreement.

“I’ll take the grilled cheese with Kool-Aid,” Omar told him, handing him the menu.

“Alright, I will be back with your drinks shortly,” he said.

Steven pulls out his phone and gets a missed call.

Connie

Missed Call.

Steven swiped his finger to the right and put the phone on his ear. His fingers drumming on the table as it was ringing.

Craig looks at him, and Steven’s eyes keep darting from left to right.

“Hello?”

“Connie!”

“Hey, Steven. How are you?”

“I’m good, what are you doing?”

“I’m about to go train with Pearl.”

“Oh, are you at your house?”

Connie was packing up some stuff such as a tank top: shorts and his mother’s soward. “Yeah, I’m going to do some training with her,” she said, picking up her duffel bag and walking downstairs. Steven nodded.

“Okay, Connie. I’ll talk to you later,” he said, hanging up. Steven set the phone down and looked at the table.

Craig, who sat next to him, put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Steven, you okay?” he asked his new friend, Steven nodded and waited for his snack.

Tien came back With their snacks and drinks.

“Here you go guys, your snacks,” he said handing them out, Steven smiled as he put his napkin used for his fork and knife on his shirt.

“Thank you,” he said, as he took his fork and took a chicken tender and cut it with his knife. Craig didn’t want to judge him too much, so he ignored it and ate his snack.

🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳

Craig, Kelsey, JP, Omar, and Steven all went back to Stevn’s house, they wanted to have a sleepover at Steven’s probably this week. Greg will have to talk to their parents on the phone first, Steven couldn’t wait! he can be a normal kid after all. He was so excited for this! He took a selfie with them and sent it to Pearl.

Steven’s phone buzzed and he looked at the notification

Pearl

‘You guys look so adorable!’ then she sent an emoji holding back tears and smiling.

Steven chuckles to himself and puts his phone back into his pocket. They'd made it into their neighborhood, Steven pulled the key out of his pocket put it in the lock, and opened the door.

“Is your dad home?” Craig asked. Steven shook his head.

“His van is gone. He’s probably picking some stuff up at the store,” he said, walking farther in. They went to the living room. Steven saw something hanging on the wall, so he called someone.

“Excuse me for a second guys.” Opening the sliding glass door that led to the back, he tapped Pearl’s contact and put the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” Garnet’s voice was heard on the other end.

Steven looked back to the picture hanging above the living room’s couch, the picture was hanging in the temple after he was born in 2000.

He was trying not to throw up or pass out. His hands were shaking, Craig stepped outside and saw Steven holding his phone up to his ear and standing still. He stood there for a while. Crag walked up towards him, Steven stood frozen, not talking.

“Steven?! Are you alright, are you hurt?” Garnet asked Steven wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. He stared at the phone,

He stared at his cell phone with various icons and buttons displayed on its screen. In the center of the phone, there is a white caller ID labeled ‘Garnet’ with a phone icon next to it. The screen also has other icons, including a clock, a car icon, a letter icon, a heart icon, and a microphone icon.

The phone also features a speaker, a camera, and a mail icon. There are several buttons on the screen as well, such as a back button, a home button, a recent apps button, and a share button. Additionally, there is an arrow icon at the bottom left corner of the screen.

Steven put it on speaker, and then he spoke.

“Y-Yeah…. I’m here. And no I’m not hurt.” Garnet didn’t believe that for a minute, she could sense that something was wrong.

“Steven…” She said. Steven clenched the phone in her hand as she continued. “I can tell that something is wrong. Are you homesick?”

“I was,” he said, looking at Craig. Then he smiled, he had friends in Deleware and Maryland. And he loved going to the creek. “But after a day being in the Creek and playing with my new friends. I’m not anymore.”

“That’s excellent to hear, Steven! But why did you call exactly?”

“Um…” Steven said, as he walked up to the open sliding glass door and looked in the living room, and saw his mother’s picture up on the wall. She looked so peaceful and beautiful, yes. It was a picture but he could feel her watching them from heaven — or within him.

Steven was eating dinner with his father. The smell of shrimp pasta hung in the air. “So, how was your day, Dad?” the boy asked.

“It was good, Schu-Ball. You had fun at the Creek?”

“Yeah! hey Dad, I have a question.”

“What’s up?”

“Did the gems give you the picture of mom?” Greg nods.

“Yes, they did. Why?”

“No reason, I thought we didn’t have that in the house yesterday.”

Greg twirled his fork full of pasta and put it in his mouth. “Well. I asked Pearl and she said that I could take the painting, they miss her too as much as I do.”

“But you have me, Dad.”

Greg smiled, he stood up and ruffled his black curly hair, Steven smiled and stood up, putting his plate in the sink. Greg looks at him. “Why won’t you watch cartoons?”

“Aw, yeah!” Steven ran into the living room and jumped on the couch.

Picking up the remote and turning on the flatscreen TV, changed it to Nickelodeon SpongeBob Squarepants playing, Steven crossed his legs and watched the cartoon.

🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳

Steven was getting ready for bed, he took a shower and put his PJs on, and now he was in bed. he went to sleep, and a new day was upon him tomorrow.

🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳

A\N: Hey guys! This is a new story I’ve been working on! tell me how you like it, and I’ll see you later!

[srhunt]

Haunted Mansion’s Biggest Issue (to me)

I was very excited to finally see Haunted Mansion this year. I had given up hope on ever seeing this new adaption in the 13 years since Guillermo Del Toro announced it with barely any news in between.

And I did very much enjoy it, it’s at least better than the 2003 film, which is all I wanted it to be.

However, there is one thing that stopped me from loving this movie, and that’s how they handled my favorite happy haunt, the Hatbox Ghost.

Now, design wise, he looks great. He’s intimidating, he’s creepy, all around they nailed it. Not thrilled that he’s played by Jared Leto, but thankfully he’s barely noticeable.

Where my issue begins is when they learn the Hatbox Ghost’s living name, Alistair Crump.

I’m not opposed with giving Hattie an actual name, mind you, and I do appreciate the nod to original Haunted Mansion Imagineer, Rolly Crump (though it’s kinda backhanded to name the villain of the movie after him). But from the moment they learn his name, he stops being the Hatbox Ghost and becomes Alistair Crump. Let me explain what I mean.

Alistair Crump was the child of a wealthy family. He was kicked out of his home by his father after crying too hard at his mother’s funeral. Cut off from his family, Crump had to climb his way back up from nothing. Meanwhile, he studied the dark arts. After his father died under mysterious circumstances, Crump gained control over his family estate. He’d throw lavish parties, inviting the people who turned his father against him. At these parties, he would murder the people he believed played a part in his father’s abandonment of him. Crump would bury the bodies under the house. This continued until his staff discovered his secret and turned against him, decapitating him and burying his remains in the same place he disposed of his victims.

Did you notice something was missing in this story?

Something very important to the Hatbox Ghost?

Like…a hatbox?

Yea, there’s no mention of a hatbox in his backstory.

This issue becomes even more glaring when the protagonists need to find an item that belonged to him in order to banish him.

You’re probably thinking it’s a hatbox, right?

No, it’s his top hat.

The top hat that’s still on his decapitated head.

Oh, is his head inside a hatbox?

No, it’s in the dirt under his old mansion.

Most of the time, ghosts are depicted with items important to them in life. Constance Hatchaway has her pearls and her hatchet, Madame Leota manifests in her crystal ball. And it’s not just the Haunted Mansion that does this, look at Thirteen Ghosts from 2001.

Each ghost has an in-depth backstory that can be found on the DVD’s bonus features, and each backstory explains how they died and why they were selected to fill a specific role in the Black Zodiac. They look the way they do because it reflects their past lives and their deaths.

So why does Alistair Crump carry a hatbox as a ghost if he had no ties to it in life?

This issue drives me nuts because it easily could’ve been fixed. Maybe when Alistair was kicked out of the house, he was only given a hatbox to carry what little he could, or maybe his staff hid his head inside a hatbox.

Crump only has the hatbox so he can do the gag with his head. That’s it. His titular hatbox holds no importance to him. He easily could’ve been swapped with any other ghost in the Mansion and nothing would feel out of place.

The hatbox is so unimportant to Crump that towards the end of the movie, he doesn’t even have it anymore. After we learn his backstory, he’s never seen with the hatbox again.

Even this new Funko Pop figure doesn’t have his hatbox but then labels him, “Hatbox Ghost.”

To me, Alistair Crump and the Hatbox Ghost are two different characters. Crump may look like Hattie, but he is not the Hatbox Ghost. Which is the biggest disappointment of this film to me.

Hattie is such a fascinating and mysterious character in the mansion. He has a backstory that’s never really explored. His role varies from story to story. Why is he in the attic with Constance? Was he one of Constance’s grooms? Why does he have that hatbox? Why did he disappear for so long in the context of the Mansion’s story? Where did he go and why did he come back? Was he a victim? A coconspirator that got betrayed? There were so many ways they could’ve taken his story and they picked probably the weakest one.

It does make me wonder what Guillermo Del Toro’s original vision for Hattie was. But alas, we may never know.

Maybe in another 20 years we’ll get a different take on the Mansion and Hattie.

[eva-knits12]

Valentine's Day with CE characters

Steve Rogers:

Valentine's Day is also James' birthday.

It's James' first birthday, so you, Steve, and James celebrate.

James gets to have his first birthday cake.

Steve gives you flowers, chocolates, and a gold bracelet with James' birthstone in it.

You get a cute card from James, with his tiny thumb prints forming a heart.

Steve also has his thumbprints forming a heart.

You take the thumbprint hearts, and make a customized necklace with both thumb prints on it.

When it arrives, you wear it above the locket with James's first ultrasound in it.

Steve cooks a nice, dinner for the both of you.

James has a chicken nuggets with some mashed potatoes.

You and Steve have meatloaf with mashed potatoes, peas, carrots and pearl onions, and gravy with fresh baked rolls.

Steve and James gave you so many reasons to celebrate Valentine's day.

Steve ends the night by drawing you a nice, relaxing hot bath, and he joins you.

This was the best Valentine's day ever, because you got to celebrate it with your two favorite boys.

Steve kisses you lovingly.

Ransom Drysdale

Like James, the twins will also be one.

Ransom made sure to get two cakes, both saying Happy Birthday on it.

Harlan will be coming later to celebrate the first birthday of his great grandchildren.

Your brother will be coming later.

Harlan is dressed in a handsome suit with a nice, gray tie.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Harlan's suit just doesn't work without his tie. He's being really fussy about it," says Ransom.

Katherine is dressed in a red dress with white tights and black Mary Janes, with a pink cardigan.

"Sorry, sweetheart, Katherine's dress doesn't work without the cardigan. She keeps crawling away from me," says Ransom.

Eventually, Katherine crawls towards Ransom, when she sees Harlan with Ransom.

Ransom hired a professional photographer to not only get a family photo, but to also get photos of the twins now that they both turned one.

The photographer arrives, and sets up. This is just easier because of your MS, and it saves a trip, and Ransom doesn't have to load in the stroller, which was custom made so that you could take the twins on a walk, and you could also get some exercise.

The photos are taken, and a few days later, you send some of the photos to your dad back in Michigan, a photo to your brother and his family, and one to Harlan.

The twins dive right into their cakes after they have some pasta.

Ransom gives you a journal of all the things he loves about you.

You give Ransom a nice, shawl collar cardigan that he loves.

"Now I get to wear dad sweaters", says Ransom.

"I love you, my favorite sexy Daddy," you say.

Ransom lips crash onto yours.

The twins got a lot of toys, and books.

Ransom reads them a bedtime story while you soak in a nice, hot bath to help soothe your aching body. The twins fall asleep.

Ransom helps you out of the tub, helps you get into your pajamas, and you both fall asleep.

Andy Barber

Andy took the day off to volunteer in Joy's class to that you two can help with the Valentine's party and card exchange.

You're five months pregnant with Penelope.

Joy is wearing a red sweater dress with white tights, and red boots.

Andy got you flowers and some diabetic friendly chocolates.

The other parents make sure that you're eating and also taking care of yourself, seeing as how you were recently diagnosed with type I diabetes.

Andy will be taking you and Joy out to dinner later, and it will be Joy's first time at a restaurant that doesn't have a placemat that involves crayons, a paper placemat, and a kids menu.

Where Andy is taking you is an upscale restaurant that is family and kid friendly, otherwise, he would have your brother babysit Joy.

When you both take Joy home, Andy helps you get dressed for dinner, and he wears a suit. Joy is still in her outfit from before.

You two have a nice dinner. Joy has Swiss steak with mashed potatoes, and you and Andy have Swiss steak with baked potatoes and seasonal roasted veggies.

Joy tries some of the veggies.

The dessert menu has several diabetic friendly options.

Joy has a chocolate cupcake.

Andy has tiramisu and you have chocolate fudge pudding cake.

You, Joy and Andy arrive home.

You help Joy get into her nightgown.

Andy and you get into your pajamas.

Andy and you end the night in a lovemaking session, then go to sleep.

You and Andy shower together the next morning.

Colin Shea

You're in bed, sick with a cold the entire day.

Colin takes care of you the entire day.

Chicken soup? Done. Hot tea with honey and lemon? Done. Serenading you with songs on his guitar? Done. Watching movies with you? Done. Chicken soup by the bowlful? Done.

He even feeds you the soup.

Colin watches you sleep.

Too bad, because he really wanted to treat you to a nice dinner.

But snuggling in bed when you're not busy sleeping is a nice way to spend Valentine's Day, too.

You took care of him when he had appendicitis.

Any excuse to spend the day in bed together is what Colin looks forward to.

He makes up for the dinner later.

During the day, he showers you with cards, songs, chocolate, and even gets you a stuffed bear that looks like Captain America that says "Get Well Soon".

You need to be sick more often because you had Colin taking care of you.

Jake Jensen

Jake has an amazing night planned.

It begins with Jake ordering Chinese because he tried to cook for you.

The dinner, which was a simple dish of chicken, mashed potatoes, and mixed veggies was somehow burned, cold, and somehow, the smoke alarm went off.

Cooking isn't Jake's forte.

Jake should stay out of the kitchen.

The food arrives, and Jake dishes it out.

He lights some candles, and turns off the lights.

You two have a candle lit dinner, so there's that.

He's all flustered, but he manages to propose.

You say yes.

Your engagement ring is a simple, round solitaire in a white gold setting.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur.

You both play Scrabble, then play Mario Kart.

The next day, you two just play Monopoly, and then Animal Crossing.

You can't wait to start wedding planning.

You two just want to enjoy this for a while.

Frank Adler

Frank and you don't really make a huge deal of Valentine's day.

You two go out for a pizza, and bring Mary along.

It's a pretty low-key Valentine's day.

You both watch a movie with Mary.

The next day, the three of you spend time doing a puzzle.

Then, you three of you play Scrabble.

Frank and Mary spell something out for you on the Scrabble board.

They both spell out "Will you marry me?"

You say yes.

Your engagement is a simple solitaire in a white gold setting.

It's the best Valentine's day because you got to spend it with the man you loved, and his daughter.

His daughter has also fallen in love with you.

Johnny Storm

After your dinner, you and Johnny are busy burning some calories.

You come, and Johnny follows.

You and Johnny have only been engaged for three months, but have been together for three years.

You conceive your son Jake on this night.

Johnny showers you with gifts. You get stuffed animals, flowers, chocolates, even blank cards professing his love for you.

You feel bad because you got him a card, and his favorite candy.

You even cook him his favorite meal, which is chicken parmesan.

You make up for it, because on your anniversary, you give him a journal of everything you love about him, memories. and even a scrapbook of your favorite couple moments.

At the end of the journal and the scrapbook is an ultrasound photo.

Johnny kisses you lovingly.

"I can't wait for this next stage, and I can't wait to be a dad. You'll make the most amazing mom ever."

Next year, Johnny dresses Jake as Cupid, and helps Jake fire arrows at your heart.

Each arrow has a message on it, giving another reason why Johnny loves you.

It's so cute, fluffy, and romantic at the same time.

You love Johnny even more.

You both get married at Disney World later that year.

[kay-jay-self-shipping]

United (AaravosxOC)

Spilers for the end of Season 6 below, don't read if you haven't seen it yet.

Also, expect mistakes, I am writing this because my muse has been inspired, so it's going to be rough, and I'm happy to just get it out for others to enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: This drabble is not canon to my story as of yet. Until season 7 is released, I will not be making plans for my actual story, this is just an idea I had floating in my head after watching the last episode.

After everything that had happened, every drop of blood shed, every tear, every nightmare... It was finally happening.

Nymera stood between Claudia and Terry at the altar of Harrow's grave, surrounded by the bones of the Archdragon Sol Regem, and the makeshift grave for Viren. Everything she needed to release Aaravos was strewn out in front of her, and her heart pounded against her ribs as she prepared to cast the most important spell of her life.

Claudia's hand rested on her shoulder, and she looked over to see the younger woman looking up at her with a smile of affirmation. They shared a nod, and she looked over at Terry who reluctantly averted his gaze.

No matter, soon someone very important would be given a new lease on life, and having heard his backstory, his motivations, she understood why he did what he did to get to this point. If she had lost the one light in her life, as he had, she may have fallen to darkness long before she reached this graveyard.

With a deep breath, the mute woman stepped forward and raised her hands. While she couldn't speak her incantations, something that'd likely lead to the end of her Dark Magic career... Viren had done her a kindness and developed a spell to give her the power to sign her spells rather than speak them. However, with his death, her power fell with him, but his daughter was a genius for magic, and was quick to recast the spell and give her the power needed to see her final mission to its end.

'Aaravos...' She thought, closing her eyes as she felt the Dark Magic flow through her fingers, up her arm and into her eyes which opened and glowed a dangerous purple. 'You've waited for me for long enough... If its true that the spell must be cast with love... Then take mine, every little moment, every smile, every conversation, take it all...! Because I love you, and I can't wait to see you!"

With tears filling her eyes, she signed the words to the spell as the objects surrounding the pearl levitated into the air, each movement of her hand was filled with conviction and power, as if shouting without words. She closed her eyes as the objects spun into the air around the Quasar Diamond, and finally she finished the final motions and watched as the objects merged together to create a light so bright, the glow in her eyes vanished, leaving nothing but inky blackness as she closed her eyes to shield them.

A moment passed until the light faded enough for all three people to lower their hands and open their eyes to reveal the form of an elf, a white silhouette before them. Nymera's welling tears finally spilled over, and she stepped forward just as the stardust disappeared and Aaravos hovered a few feet in the air before her, in the flesh.

The Startouch elf inhaled suddenly as he opened his eyes, then dropped to his knees on the ground as he let the air fill his lungs from the outside world for the first time in three centuries. "Stone..." He spoke up, after a moment to get his bearings. His blank expression twisting into a smile as he clenched his fist against the dusty bricks beneath him. "The cool night air..." He lifted his head and closed his eyes as the wind whipped up around him, 'causing his majestic white hair to flutter around his starlit features.

Nymera stood there with a hand against her chest, choking back silent sobs as he slowly got to his feet and lowered his head enough to face her directly. Slowly, he opened his eyes and his smile twisted into a pleased smirk. "And you... How long I have waited to see you in the flesh."

The young hybrid's lips curled up into a happy smile, and she wiped her eyes with the palms of her hand as she took a tentative step towards him, mirrored by his own. 'You're free... You're here.' She signed, watching as he took another step, then another.

"Yes." He confirmed, his pace quickening as he watched her take another tentative step. Perhaps she was still questioning his solid form? "And it's all thanks to you!"

Without giving her a chance to say anything else, he dove forward and wrapped his arms around her waist. He scooped her up while her expression screamed surprise when she couldn't, laughing as he spun her around and allowed himself to feel the arms; the form of another against his own. Oh, she was warm, soft, and ever so light.

It was wonderful!

Nymera's tears only intensified as she was lowered into an embrace, one she returned with as much force as she could muster, relishing in his warm and strong hold on her. His face was buried in her shoulder, while her's nestled in his pristine hair, both basking in the knowledge that they'd achieved what they'd long planned to be a reunion.

"Nymph, you have proven far more valuable than any vessel I could have chosen..." Aaravos told her, muffled by her clothing as he opened his eyes halfway, not caring that others could see him. "And it is a pleasure to finally see you face to face, rather than behind that dusty old mirror."

She tightened her grip, affirming his words, as she nodded against his locks, soaking them with her happy tears. He was her best friend, the only person to accept her for who she was, rather than what she was by blood.

"This spell is only possible with love, my little Nymph." Aaravos said, pulling away to look her in the eyes as he brushed her fringe away from her corrupted eye, allowing him to relish the vibrant hue of her fuschia eyes. "Tell me, what motivated you to complete the spell?"

Nymera's cheeks turned pink, as she raised her hands to sign her response, only to hesitate and lower them along with her gaze. While she knew the answer, deep down the still feared rejection, and if she were to tell him, and he didn't feel the same... It would shatter what little heart she had left to love.

But Aaravos wasn't a fool, he saw right through her, even now.

Aaravos stared down at her, then smirked as he silently lifted her chin with the side of his index finger, moving her gaze to meet his, before he leaned down and brushed his lips briefly against hers. The mute mage's eyes widened in surprise, and she stood there frozen for a moment, while her beloved elf pulled away and flashed her a grin. "Sometimes words aren't necessary for a confession, my starlight~."

Nymera's form tensed as she started breathing heavily, and her lip trembled. Tears spilled harder down her cheeks, and she let out a silent sob before she tackled him in another hug, comforted by his soft laughter as he embraced her once again.

In the background, Terry was looking away, his eyes filled with tears as well, while Claudia sniffled with a smile, wiping her eyes as she basked in the knowledge that they had succeeded in their mission.

The former High Mage finally pulled away enough to meet Aaravos' gaze, but as she went to remove her hands to sign her love for him, he gently grasped them in his own. "No" He said gently, letting go to cup her cheeks. "There's no need for words..."

And with that, he pressed his lips against her own with a firm passion, which she reciprocated with every cell in her being, every speck of love she had held onto for so, so long.

Yes, they had a job to do, now that the Startouch giant had been released, but at that moment, the only thing that mattered was this moment, and Aaravos could only think of one thing as he pulled away to bask in her smile.

'Leola would have loved to meet you.'

A/N: Thanks for reading! I want to note that in my headcanon, Aaravos can become human-sized at will, which is why he was able to live among them with Leola. As a result, he chooses to appear human-sized to Nymera, fully intending to lock lips with her.

I hope you enjoyed my drabble! I had a blast writing it!

[immoralimmortals]

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 25: Puppet Loosely Strung

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Summary of chapter: Vulnerability hurts, plain and simple. Sasori considers if it's worthwhile, even if most of him is dead. Shame that it had to be his heart that's left alive.

Author's Note: Two songs again! Title and breaks are Puppet Loosely Strung by The Correspondents and is also planned on being "the" Sasori song. Name put aside, I do think it suits him a lot. Same with the song that's sung in the story, Thumbnail by Louie Zong and Brian David Gilbert. I really gave myself a treat this chapter, working with two songs I love hearing on repeat and writing out a couple of ideas I've been holding onto for a few months.

In front of a woman’s sleeping face, one black glove strips off the other, tugging...slowly...by the fingertips, soft as can be lest she awake with even the slightest snap of the fabric. To take off his mask, too, is tempting, but there is no logical justification for it.

As if he can justify doing this, either.

Lost in memories, Obito considers the performer’s visage, how she no longer wears her own “mask” only when she is unconscious. What was Rin like…? He remembers that somehow, as the campfire flickered over her face, she impossibly looked even softer, gentler, kinder than awake. He was a boy then. The Uchiha is now grown, but he recognizes this same serenity in front of him now.

...Which doesn’t make any sense. He’s in Hell, after all. And she told him she’s a liar, and she knows he’s one too.

Obito considers the contradictory nature of lying that you’re a liar.

Fascination brought him forth into the company of interdimensional beings, and fascination keeps him here even now that he’s known she has no real power to speak of, to steal, to make use, to liberate...so he may liberate the world of suffering. The glove slips off and bare skin sees moonlight for the first time in too long. If she suffered in her world, too, then maybe…

Then...maybe...he…

Silence overtakes his troubled mind.

…

…

His unmasked palm holds her face, and it’s like the two are pieces made to fit. Obito isn’t sure what he feels, but he knows there is so very much of it. Skin on skin, his hand is helpless but to melt, thumb drifting to brush the high point of her cheek. In her dreaming state, she shifts, chin bobbing ever so slightly up and down to cuddle into the touch. Has anyone ever held her like this, he wonders? The cursed man knows with certainty he never has been. Hungrily, the mouth behind an orange swirl moves in closer, touch-starved fingers beginning to find strands of hair to comb in their spaces in-between—

Too close. He sees her eyes close tighter, a precursor to opening up.

…

…

Indeed they do. In the middle of the night, the dreamer wakes up. Abruptly, part of her fantasy just felt so, so real, and instead of pearls and blues she caught a hint of a warmer hue like fire. Where the man was is empty space. Deidara has, in fact, left. She exhales. Maybe that’s for the best. She’s been told she can snore sometimes…

Still...part of her is disappointed. There’s something so assuring about not being alone when you sleep; she never realized till the sleepovers (?) started. That’d be nice, she thinks to herself, eyelids growing heavy. That’d be nice...if someone even was just happy to watch her sleep…

…

…

She rolls over on the couch and goes back to bed.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Let me put myself in your shoes

As a puppet loosely strung

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Deidara is gone, yes, but that’s just because that dream of his made him antsy. Studying her face was nice for a while, yes, but it can't hold you up longer than an hour or two. Unable to go back to sleep, unwilling to just lay there and stare at the lady until daylight broke, he made the better choice:

Go bother Sasori!

A man not needing sleep is the perfect remedy for boredom, in a way. The doings of a puppet workshop for hours on end are boring, sure...but that’s in the daytime. At night, it’s just slow, drawling enough that it helps the time pass without making you want to pull your hair out. In the candlelight, Deidara in the green shirt and shorts he uses for pajamas sits on a pillow he stole from one of the chairs downstairs, sitting more comfortably than just on the hardwood floor of this attic. She really slept here…? Even with Sasori cleaning it up (shoving everything out the hatch), it still isn’t very homey. He blinks up at his partner’s back. Something’s been bothering Deidara...or perhaps it’s better stated that something seems to be bothering Sasori. He’s had a hunch but yesterday sealed the deal, redhead running off like that. The blonde leans his chin onto a set of knuckles.

“Why so tense, Sasori?”

…

Okay, he probably can’t just come out of the gate like that. His danna isn’t biting, which is usually so easy to do with an accusation of weakness for bait. Deidara adds more context: “I guess I just expected you to...be more interested, un.”

...Nothing. Just clicks and clacks of whatever the heck he does to perfect this art of his. Deidara tilts his body far to the side, holding his feet for balance, trying to get a peek at the redhead’s face. “You don’t at least want to ask her about art where she’s from?”

Click clack and abruptly, no more. Sasori’s shoulders stop moving underneath his cloak, his neck turning on its hinge to give Deidara the glance he’s so clearly begging for. “It doesn’t interest me,” he puts as simply as it should seem, outside looking in. “My art is ultimate. You know this, brat. I don’t appreciate the spectacle you made yesterday for your own amusement.”

“But you didn’t stop it, un!”

“I left.” Is that not good enough? Apparently not. But before the bomber’s worst mouth— that is because it can speak— interrupts again, Sasori continues his point. “Nothing can accomplish more than my art can. There is no point.”

“She’s not a threat, you know.” Deidara folds his arms, sticking his bottom lip out a bit in a pout. “Our objective is to gain her trust? Know more about her?! Remember? It wouldn’t kill ya to try to learn from her, my man. Hell, I know you’d have fun teaching her, if that’s what you want instead! Obviously you know so much more than she does, right?” Again, the answer is plain:

“It isn’t worth the time.”

“Or is it that you’re worried she’ll reveal the TRUE nature of art to you?”

That’s it.

A senbon whiffs past Deidara’s ear, residual breeze flipping his hair. Though meant to be frightening, the blonde takes it as more flirtatious, sensual, than anything. He just scoffs, tucking the twisted lock back in place behind his ear with lazy, hooded eyes.

“Okay, okay… I can see I’ve said enough. Just enough to give you something to chew on.”

Sasori said it once to the girl and he can say it again with ease: “Begone.”

“Alright, alright... Goodnight, Sasori no Danna.”

Foolish as he is, Deidara is even incorrect about the last conjecture he made: Sasori has already been mulling over the disquietude of this woman all of the night. He only made it worse.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Around you, they were so confused

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Well, if it doesn’t work trying to get one side to initiate, perhaps that means he has to work with the other.

“He’s just nervous, see?” Deidara explains with a cup in his hand, hair tied up and eyeliner redone for the day. He shrugs underneath his Akatsuki garb, trying to soften an already soft lady up. It’s a hard task; it’s a thin line between just making her more malleable to suggestion and melting her entirely like ice cream left out too long.

“Oh…” the woman frowns, not really remembering how this conversation started but beginning to be glad he brought it up; it’s never comfortable knowing you get on someone’s nerves. You always want to fix it, make it right, or at least make it tolerable. Getting into it, though, always seems to make it worse, so she was ready to let it go, even if it pained her to be a slight to someone else by just existing in the same space. But there’s one thing she just doesn’t get, has been drilling in her mind, and it gives Deidara a foothold. She sets down her cup of tea that Deidara so kindly brewed for her. It isn’t as good as Itachi’s, but drinks always taste better regardless if it’s someone else that made it just for you.

Anyway. There is one big question, but another more directly in line with what the blonde just proposed, pops off the tongue first:

“Nervous, huh…? Is that why he’s so mean to you?”

Deidara sputters, grateful he swallowed his too-bitter drink before she said this. God, tea...it’s never been his cup of tea...heh. He pockets that pun for his use only, aware it is far too obvious of a joke to be said aloud. Anyhow.

“Huh? Mean? No, no, he’s just like that, I promise. You get to know him, Takara, and you’ll see it too. All bark, little bite.” She notes he did not say “no bite,” and perhaps he can read that off her face since he seems prompted to explain. “Scorpions are more docile than you think,” he continues, though he allows an interlude so he can taste his drink again and think about how he could improve upon such a mellow flavor. “They sting when they’re scared, you know?”

The musician blinks. “Scorpion? Is he...a scorpion…?” Guess it wouldn’t be far off from being a shark man, though Sasori doesn’t look the part the same way Kisame does. Deidara chuckles, less like it’s actually funny and more just a conversational cue to follow.

“In a way. That’s what his name means.”

“Sooo,” she drawls, and as she rolls her eyes to the side in thought, the woman misses how smugly her fellow artist looks back at how his clever trap has worked. “How did you get him to open up?” The opportunity is irresistible, even if he knew it was coming:

“Ahhh. So Princess-Treasure-Jashin’s Chosen needs MY help getting a new friend?”

The blank stare he gets tells him that his audience of one is lost, no matter how unmistakable his joke should be. Perhaps she’s telling the truth, after all, about not trying to be a cherished little lady to maintain protection and power among the Akatsuki. Perhaps just good at playing pretend, feigning obliviousness.

“Sorry.” He’s not really. “Just teasing. But still...surprised you don’t see it.” Her brow curls, gaze still hiding by walking along the ceiling.

“I...take things literally,” she admits guiltily. The woman gains enough confidence to look back at him again. “Have I really been missing something? He just seems like he hates my guts— wait, no. I’m sorry. That’s too mean.” Is it, Deidara mentally asks? Are you the one that’s mean if someone else is mean to you? “But still. I...I just got the idea he wants me to leave him alone.”

“I already told you the answer, Takara-chan! He’s just nervous! …Doesn’t that sound familiar?”

…

…

“...Takara-chan,” he prods with some urgency, halfway between finding her silence hilarious and frustrating. And then finally she gets it, pointing a finger to herself.

“You mean...like me?” He nods.

“Yes. Like you. His defenses are different, is all. Think of it this way:…” He reaches across the table, plucking a fruit from the bowl between them. “You’re like...a peach.” Fingers roll the named object in front of his face in display, assisting in the visual. “You’re all soft on the outside, but inside is where you’re hard as a rock.” The fuzzy fruit lowers. “Think of Sasori as more like an egg. Hard protective shell outside, but nothing of the sort inside.”

Chomp.

The performer frowns as the palm that the food sits in begins to gnaw into it. Deidara is keeping his smug expression; does he even know he’s doing this right now…?

She blinks away the confusion as this is a question she’s not willing to find the answer to, redirecting her gaze onto her helpful friend. He repeats a point of his, as if it was her idea all along:

“Now that you’ve mentioned it...he really is just like you… Just think of yourself inside out, and you got yourself a scorpion, un.”

And that’s what will do her in. For the first time in this conversation, the singer smiles; it is genuine and hopeful and so very, very naive. “Okay...I think I get it.” She stands up and tucks in her chair, invigorated to set her own plan in motion. “Thank you, Deidara.”

“Of course! I’m always here if you need anything.”

A wave and a patter of feet later, the sculptor is left alone.

…

…

He frowns, eyes widening in dread as his hand starts to gag. A panicked Deidara smashes his other fist into his wrist to let the bite of peach cough out. Bleh, it says after spitting the choked fruit onto his face. As the orange stuff drips down an unamused mug, the artist grumbles.

“Still haven’t gotten used to that part of having the kekkei genkai. I need to work on that...un.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That a faulty man could have so much fun

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Here we are, Takara-chan!”

The other man that calls her that honorific says it with so much more...enthusiasm, she notes. But that’s not what’s on her mind right now. She kneels next to the brambles where she had been found crying in the height of summertime. The woman frowns at how bright yellow the leaves are. Surely there’s one left…!

A hand-me-down apron tied around her lap, the performer slips off her sweater lest it catches the thorns and puts an unprotected arm in, instead.

“Oh?” Tobi tilts his head as he stands over her. “Be careful, you might get—”

A hiss, and the arm retracts.

“...Cut.”

But she’s smiling. With a wink, she holds up a little red berry to the closed eye in victory, ignoring the same color on her forearm. Tobi cocks his expressionless head the other way to emphasize befuddlement.

“Oh? A berry!” Indeed it is. “I forgot there were berries here! Last...we…”

...Last they first met, is what he thinks. First met for real. If she understands, she does not acknowledge, merely closing the other eye, too, and widening her smile with a teeth-showing giggle. She has the answer to her big question on Sasori— a solution with it— and that’s enough to celebrate. “Thank you for helping me find this again. This is perfect! I’m going to look just like a doll!”

He wonders if this is what Rin would be like if she had time to grow up, too, childishness and all.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

They read your smile as nothing but teeth

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Keep it quick.

What?

Sasori raises his head. Having had no reason to leave the attic— workshop, actually, so much better than a mere dusty attic— he’s used to little sounds here and there. Damn mice in the walls, for one, muted speech for another. Not much difference; both are noise and noise alone. He blinks, long and slow in contemplation before returning to his current project, holding the stem between his fingers.

Say it brief

Brows raise though brown eyes stay hooded, if not narrow even more. He raises his head again, turning it towards the source.

If it's fast, it will be a relief

Short on time, that's a gift

She’s right there, bottom of the ladder to his makeshift sanctuary. He can tell now that she really is that close. Ah well. The girl will conclude her business and then walk away; that’s how it is.

Count your seconds, and they'll catch the drift

But it the sound does not drift, too. With a “tsk” under his breath, he sets down pink glasses and moves towards the exit. In one smooth motion, like a firefighter sliding down a pole, he lands on the floor. Head turns side to side. She’s no where to be found, at least not visually.

Disparate parts, desperate hearts

Pulled through a sieve

Hand me a chart, so I know how to start to say

"This is all I can give"

Around the corner now, obviously. He lingers in that direction, weaving past the garbage he threw out when first moving in, but the voice softens as he gets close. Assuredly, as he turns the edge of conjoined walls, she is already out of sight again.

To summarize seems incomplete

How novel is a novel that can fit on one sheet

It seems that I'm destined to fail

To compress myself to the size of a thumbnail

The scorpion catches a glimpse of her hair, trailing behind a wide-brim hat, as she crosses the gap in the hallway and goes down the stairs. He blinks his eyes and purses his lips, expressions often reserved just for when people are around to see them. In no hurry, he goes down the stairs, following the sound of her voice and sparsing these strange, bittersweet lyrics.

Don't like what's revealed here

When your depth of field's near, it's hard to come close

Chip stones from the boulder

Suddenly, my vulnerability shows

Down the stairs, past the kitchen, out the back door he hears the siren’s call. Deidara be damned, color him curious. He hasn’t...heard a song like this before. One that makes so much sense, isn’t just about poetry or flowers. They’re not feelings, no— Sasori does not feel— but this song does think and think mindfully. The cracked entrance to the outside world finds him standing there, and Sasori in turn finds she’s finally stopped, sitting upon the swing with her back to him, head tilted somewhat to the side so he can see the profile of her face but not if she sees him too. The cut on her arm, so poignant as it is raised to hold the rope, is the only thing marring the perfect image.

Hm.

Her voice…These words...

…

He listens intently.

Oh, you can crop and trim, 'till all that's left

Is the essence of a presence that is feeling bereft

Avant-garde, just the gist of a tale

That is less of an image, and more of a thumbnail

Her heart is beating out of her chest, wondering if he’s followed her all the way out here, unable to stop and look back fully to see lest the act come undone. Lips dyed pink with a smushed berry sing, sing for them both, try to let Sasori know that maybe they have some middle ground to plant their white flags. To be shy and sensitive is a curse, after all, and one should not inflict it upon the other without need.

Na na na, na na

They'll catch the drift

Na na na, na na

They'll catch the drift

Soft doll hair drifts ever so slightly over the puppeteer's forehead with the pleasant breeze outside, though he cannot sense it in the same way living people can. She hums the rest of her parable about isolation and communication butting heads, her feet swinging back and forth to make the toy worth its name. On her end, she just continues. Whether he is here or not, that’s what the relief is; it is good to simply be done. This short little song about being afraid is over, at least in words. She’s said what she can. If he is there— or even if he’s not, just heard some of it and left— it is his turn. She will not chase.

But she can’t help but look back when the wind picks up and takes away her sunhat, ribbons trailing behind. “Ah,” ah SHIT. “No—!”

But before her very eyes, then it lands right in a dollmaker’s hands, almost like that is where it was trying to go. His grip is so gentle— so precise— it’s like he’s a fairy tale. She can’t help but ogle.

Oh, dammit.

“A-... ah.” So feigning ignorance is over; eye contact is made and cannot be undone. He looks so calm, but she can’t help but grip her fingers around the rope tighter as he walks up, tilting her head further and further vertical to keep on him while he says not a word— not until he’s close enough to put it back on her head. That motion, too, is even as if a human hand is not there, so soft like the hat never even left.

“…” he says.

“…” she replies.

They both aren’t very good at this. That much is obvious. The woman dips her head, answer predictable and instinctive:

“Sorry.”

But the living doll still says “…”

The leaves rustle so comfortingly under a cloudy sky, a little crowd encouraging the two along. Come on! her imagination hears them egg on. You got this! Just say hello! How you feel!

...But Sasori isn’t ready. He turns around, retreating to his solitude. She panics.

“Wait—”

And so he does, turning at the heel to look back, more malleable than he’s ever been to her whims before. She makes a deadly mistake in her worry of not saying enough. Every memory of regret swarms back at once, all the times she wishes she said something and did not. She forgets that they live together, that tomorrow is another day and time will keep going, will in fact give another chance unless something drastic happens.

But life is drastic, she knows. So she opens her mouth and tells him too much of the truth:

“Sasori?” she sputters. Unlike her singing voice, this is so shaky, as it is unrehearsed. He looks on, so she continues. “I...I was hoping...we could be friends. I know how hard it is to try to talk to people,” the singer confesses. “That...it’s easier to deal with what you like and know and can predict, make that last instead of going through the trouble wasting through things you don’t just in hopes of it being better. I want to help!” Her breath hitches at this sudden reveal, but she takes a deep lungful to quickly correct. “I mean...I want it to be... easy for you.”

One thing is certain: he has her full undivided attention. That’s a start, right? She grows too confident, so desperate for approval she’s busting down the door. The dam is bursting.

“I found myself wondering, you know? You know good things are eternal. So why is it so easy for you to feel your time is being spent badly? At first it seemed weird to me...but now it makes sense. You want your time well spent, to be full of things you enjoy or can at least tolerate. I get that.” In the kindest way possible, the woman is telling him that he is shallow.

And then the most painful thing of all, and she offers the poison with a bright smile:

“You’re like me.”

The crowd in the trees mutter, sighs of relief that she finally said her mind. During the monologue, the traveler’s spun around in her seat as best she can, legs facing perpendicular while torso and head face him. Her stomach is twisting, but...he doesn’t look mad. And so she grins wider, hopeful and safe now that she’s being understood. After all, everyone else has apparently taken well to her honestly—

“Be quiet.”

...

Huh?

Deidara’s advice was both entirely unneeded and entirely misunderstood. He put it out plain and simple; Sasori is merely answering as can be predicted, condensing the bad as briefly as possible: “Do not insist you know me. Understand me more than I understand myself. You, girl, are ignorant of everything and everyone around you. Do not mistake my disinterest as playing coy. I am not your shy, wandering puppy. I am not a problem to be solved.” His eyes narrow, and the disgust— only emotion of his she’s familiar with— emerges again, and she is abruptly so very slimy and gross and small.

“You are worthless.You are not worth my time, the Akatsuki’s time, nor that of the air in your pathetic little lungs. It is beyond fathom you are still here. Get out of my sight. Leave. Me. Be.”

A longer answer than he’d give anyone else, lest anything is unsaid and he need repeat himself. It is clear now: this was all on purpose. She thought of him with pity. He is only returning the favor.

The smile remains on her face, but it does not reach her eyes. It twitches— it twitches with pain and a broken spirit. She’s so stupid. Why would this world be any different…?

The grin is a grimace. Her head lowers, eyes averted. A “sorry” is muttered so quietly it might as well not have been said at all. Slowly, as to not betray her real self any further, be more vulnerable to attack, she stands up.

One step.

Another.

Step.

By.

Step.

She leaves.

And Sasori lets her, despite what he knows. When the only living piece of you is your heart, that means that when you feel, you feel so very, very much. Sasori got rid of all his humanity, has had little interest in understanding the little bit he has left. After all, he’ll figure out someday how to throw away his heart, too, and still live. What’s the point?

The point now is that in one brief moment, he had allowed himself to acknowledge his heart, his feelings, let them rise up to the mind until he began to drown. It had to get out somehow, lest it fill him up and he explode with no space left in him to give. The traveler gave the perfect excuse, and so he turned to sting as soon as it was known she had in some way set this up, MADE him reveal more of himself, be lulled into ease by a siren’s damned song.

They are nothing alike.

He repeats this to himself over and over, as to question otherwise is to doom himself. Especially as he is left facing what fell off her lap as she stepped off the swing. A gift. Just for him. A long term effort that was presented to match his view on art and existence…and he returned it with nothing but his disdain.

Deidara will find him like this later, standing in the back yard among faded rose bushes and her ghost in the wind pushing the swing back and forth. One artist will be appalled with the other that he let her leave, escape into the forest, run away on her own while the scorpion knows what is happening out there right now, this very second. Sasori will have blank eyes as he is gripped by the shoulders, only living piece of him so emotional that he doesn't know if he feels righteousness or regret. A flower from her press holds his gaze, sitting on a plank of wood— the same material that holds his fragile heart in place. A little piece of him begins to know the hypocrisy that he, too, has made the time to rearrange himself to her, to fix her step, to take her hat just to give it back, and then complain that she was doing the same with him merely by murmuring a silly melody.

But even as Deidara asks why, Sasori will not admit it.

All at once, deep in the woods, a stranger bloody and stained remembers every single time at once in which she said something and she shouldn’t have. The ink around her eyes drips, and she doesn’t know how Sasori was unkind not just in his words but in leaving her to the wolves.

Wolves don’t care how much like a doll you are.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

They looked at you with pity first, then disbelief

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[meimi-haneoka]

Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card Chapter 66: Comments + JP-ENG translation differences

Dear CCS fans, welcome back to our appointment with insanity after two months of withdrawal 😂😂 How are you? Last time we gathered here to comment chapter 65, I said that was the first chapter of the future volume 14, but lo and behold, it wasn’t true!! 😂 Yep, because a couple of weeks later Kodansha revealed the cover and details of volume 13, and we found out it’ll be bigger than the other volumes: 192 pages instead of 160, giving it room to print chapter 65 in that same volume. Therefore, the one that will open the future volume 14 will be the chapter we will analyze today, chapter 66! Unexpectedly, this chapter made me laugh a lot! More for some personal ideas than anything else, but I wasn’t expecting that 😂 This time around there are some clarifications to be made about a particular scene (I think it is a misunderstanding, OF COURSE, at the expense of Kaito). And some other things to point out. But before doing that, let me put the Gif of the Month here. This is literally what I will think about everytime I will see Yelan, from now on:

The Color page

Mermaid Sakura!! ...Or so the JP text says on the color page 😂 Very pretty as usual, with all those pearls it reminded me a bit of Akiho’s dress….but it doesn’t give me the feeling of the color page opening a last volume of a series. Compare it with the color page that opened volume 12 of the old series….it was a color page that indicated clearly where the story was going and what would be the climax of the series. This one seems quite....generic? Pretty, yes, but not very worthy as the introduction to a last volume. Should we infer that volume 14 won’t be the last one just by this? It’s probably too soon to say, but….seeing the pacing of this chapter, I’m almost tempted to say that it won’t be.

The Red Queen’s Castle

We left our Cat and Alice (I’ll call them that, since calling them with the name of the corresponding characters wouldn’t sound too correct right now, cause it really seems like I was right last time: our Sakura went with someone who’s not Syaoran) flying on the back of the Shade Card (shaped after the Jabberwocky), and they finally reach what will probably be their final destination? The Red Queen’s Castle.

And let me tell you, the art for the castle is really impressive, I absolutely loved it. Featuring those same clocks that appeared in the play, the gear decorations, the roses and the thorns….but most importantly, the black and white duality, that will be a constant throughout the castle. Despite not remembering who she really is, Alice is very observant and makes questions: she notices the castle and surroundings are made of iron and stone, but the part underneath is made of crystal. She asks why, but the Cat makes a pensive face and doesn’t reply. They land, Shade gets dispelled, and here’s the page that probably gave me the most creeps in this chapter… Alice looks at the Cat, quite intimidated, and the stare he gives back…..yeah it probably gave the chills to more than one of you, right? 😅He seems...quite displeased….maybe because of the questions she made? Alice does seem to not trust this Cat completely… The Cat, probably realizing that, fine-tunes his behavior and welcomes officially Alice to the Red Queen’s castle, telling her that she’s waiting for her.

Spartan Methods

Somewhere else, two people we haven’t been seeing since long time open a conversation through a magic portal: it’s our favorite megane magician Eriol and our favorite mother in law Yelan!! 😂 I’d daresay it’s the “club of the excluded” 😂 Let me say that Yelan is gorgeous in this chapter, more than usual!! And so they waste no time: Eriol reveals that the infamous “no-touch” spell, the one that caused a shock to Syaoran everytime he tried to touch Sakura, was casted on the little wolf by none other than his own mother!! Now, please, as a Kaito fan, let me for one moment breathe this moment of freedom, cause this stuff of the no-touch spell has been going on ever since chapter 36, thirty chapters ago, and for the whole duration of it I kept seeing comments like “It was probably Kaito’s doing”, despite Syaoran ascertaining almost immediately that it wasn’t him. 😅Now that we know it was Yelan’s doing, hopefully I’ll stop seeing those comments around 😂 And, of course, hopefully that means that Sakura and Syaoran will be able to touch from now on. But why our Suegra (how the Spanish speaking fandom affectionately calls her!!) had to cast that spell? She explains it herself: she saw in a water divination (note: the ENG translation talks about a “dowsing” – I’m not too familiar with this term but my English speaking friends told me that it’s not entirely expressing the “water divination” connotation, hence why I specified it here. Water divination is, after all, Yelan’s specialty) that in the near future her son would’ve needed to discern a real Sakura from one that wasn’t her. Yelan knew it would’ve been impossible to distinguish with the mere eyesight and such. And here I have to point out something: the ENG translation makes it sound like this event will happen in the near future from now on, but no, she was actually referring to the time when she made the divination - the event in the end arrived, in the form of Syaoran realizing the one he rescued wasn’t Sakura but Mirror. Eriol lowkey calls her out, pointing out that causing a shock when they touched might have been a bit over the top, but Yelan replies: “Sometimes it’s necessary to rely exclusively on your touch sense, rather than your ability to think”. And here Eriol says something that made me laugh so much and probably will for the rest of the month: “And doing all of that without even telling to your own son…. Just as rumored, you’re quite Sparta(n)”. It’s different from what the ENG translation made her say, but it isn’t a mistake, as the use of the word “Sparta” in Japanese can also refer to being “strict”, indeed 😂but now you do understand why I chose that Gif of The Month for this chapter?? Yelan answers that level is actually soft for her (my gosh, this woman is unhinged) (and yes, another little difference with the ENG, which makes it look like *Eriol* was being gentle with her), but Eriol is worried for the situation: a card has been stolen, and it’s actually being used by the magician (Kaito).

After checking just now the Spanish translation, that I always trust with confidence even and especially where my skills are lacking, I can confirm that my initial impression on the scene that I'm about to analyze was correct: we have a translation mistake, and also quite heavy cause in the ENG version it makes it look like they're throwing shade at Kaito (as usual), when actually they're talking about something different. I checked other languages too, and while each one gives their own interpretation, the Spanish one is the one that I trust more because it's the most accurate out there, so I will put here how we intended that scene: ENG: "No matter what magical trickery he used to wrest the Card from its true master...her powers must not be as mature as we reckoned"

JP: "It was a Card that was ripped from its true master with a magic technique (by Syaoran). So I guess he didn't manage to pass all her power to its full capacity (into the card)" Basically. They're not talking about Kaito at all, here. Yelan is explaining that since Mirror was a Card ripped from Sakura by force, she was in a weakened state because not all of Sakura's power was passed into it when Syaoran executed the magic spell. And this weakened power was what probably made possible for Kaito to have the upper hand over Mirror (since we've been told before that the Cards have enough powers to resist being taken away, yes, BUT WHEN THEY'RE WITH SAKURA). Why am I sure this is the right interpretation? Because Kaito never took Mirror away directly from Sakura. It was Syaoran who did. And in fact, in this panel, we can see Sakura and Syaoran together. They're talking about them, not Kaito. And Yelan, as the strict mother she is, is giving responsability for what happened to who casted the magic technique, that is, her son Syaoran. Is it clearer now?

Eriol wonders how it’s possible that Yuna D. Kaito is always one step ahead of them. Yelan is sure he doesn’t have the power to see the future….but while everyone is racking their brains, here comes the other big excluded from the games: Kaho, who suggests that Kaito might be rewinding time repeatedly to fix stuff that didn’t go as he wanted. Yelan, with a worried expression, quickly points out that if he keeps doing that, his life will get definitely shaved off. Another reminder, if we needed any, that what Kaito is doing does have consequences on him. While Eriol and Yelan talk about this, we can see an image of Kaito in his Association attire “shattering away”. It’s a nice reminder that all these people know about Kaito are excerpts from his life at his ex-Association. They don't know anything of the current Kaito. Then, the question that even stones at this point are making themselves: what does he want to obtain? Why going that far? The group, alas, doesn’t know. (And this shatters my idea that maybe Eriol did understand about Akiho’s situation in those reports from the Association). But whatever it is, “it has already started”, as Eriol says. And here I want to point out a little clarification on who Eriol is precisely talking about in the next line: the JP text actually says

JP: “We can’t really do anything from here, just have faith in those two”

As you can see, the ENG mentions “the children”, and this could be mistaken as including a bit of the whole cast of children in Clear Card, but Eriol here is specifically referring to Sakura and Syaoran.

I know, I know it might seem like Eriol is conveniently retiring from the games (😂), but I actually think here he’s got enough trust in the capabilities and good heart of Sakura and Syaoran. I say “good heart” because I still believe Eriol got an inkling of what’s necessary to stop Kaito, as he hinted in the short story n. 4. And let’s not forget that the Clockland where Sakura and Akiho are in right now seems quite impenetrable. So even if he wanted, he wouldn't really be able to get access where they are right now.

BUUUT! Let’s go back to our Clockland indeed, because Alice and the Cat in the meantime reached the Gardens, and……

I Am The Red Queen

Yes, it’s *that* garden, my readers. The garden where Lilie sometimes met Kaito, but most importantly, the garden where Akiho met Kaito the first time. With the same arch of roses, fountain, rose bushes everywhere. I’ve always had the impression that was the garden of the villa where the Squid clan had its headquarters. Someone is sitting in the same spot Lilie, Akiho and Kaito himself used to sit on: it’s the Clear Card Promise, with the appearances of Yukito. Yukito greets Alice with a “good morning” but she rebuts that it’s night right now, so probably “good evening” would be more fitting. Yukito says that in this land the time doesn’t flow just in one direction, “ahead”. Sakura ponders what that means, and if the time speeds up or slows down, or even turns back….who decides for it? Yukito doesn’t answer, but smiles instead, in a very…..Kaito-like way. Alice, as we were saying, is very observant and she notices that the roses in that garden are all white, despite this being the Red Queen’s garden. How come? Weren’t they supposed to be red? And then, she says something peculiar:

JP: “This place….feels very important. To someone. Extremely important”

The Cat looks at her with a seemingly annoyed expression, and urges her to keep going. This, my readers, to me is the proof that behind the Cat that is accompanying our Alice/Sakura….there’s Kaito. Because yes, we already said it in last chapter, with that gazebo appearing out of nowhere, that the dream intertwined with this Clockland was probably Kaito’s. But here? This garden really screams “Kaito’s subconscious”, but even more so the Cat’s reaction to Sakura’s observation. Not answering. Changing subject. Trying to run away from an answer he isn’t ready to give yet. Yep, this Cat definitely behaves like him. The two proceed, but hey! Yukito isn’t done yet! In fact, he tells Alice (with Yue’s eyes, exactly like it happened when he released his kekkai some chapters ago) one last, important advice: “Don’t forget the promise you made”. But Alice’s answer is confused: “To whom?” Now, we probably all remember how the Promise Card was born in the first place; it was due to a promise that Sakura made together with Yukito that she would tell immediately to her brother, should Yukito end up hurt because of the contract he made with the Tsukimine Shrine. But you see….I think in this scene it’s not so important the content of the promise per se. I think the Promise itself is the real important thing, because the impression I have is that this Promise could prompt Sakura to remember about Yukito, and therefore helping her in remembering about her identity too.

Yukito gets covered by a transparent fabric (Lucid Card) and disappears. The Cat, once again, urges Alice to go forward. It almost seems as if the Cat….doesn’t want Alice to get distracted.

Passing through a big hallway (perfectly divided in black and white, like everything else in this castle), Alice poses another one of her questions to the Cat: she asks him if he ever met the Red Queen, and when he answers yes, she fires the next question: “what she’s like?” And how do you think our Cat replied to such a direct question? Yes, exactly, with another set of “…..” 😂 But it’s when Sakura asks “Does she resemble me?” that the Cat seems to be getting nervous...or irritated. Hm. That’s strange. She either touched a sensitive topic or the fact she made that question might have brought her one inch closer to destroy the spell she’s under, and the whole Clockland. The Cat, if he is who I think it is, of course won’t be happy about that.

And when the door to the Queen’s Room opens, it reveals another breathtaking scenery: water (a callback to the water in the color page? That’s why Sakura is a mermaid?), stairs (carefully divided in black and white), a pattern that seems precisely the one of Siege on the background, a rose and two people on the sides of the room: it’s Choice (with Touya’s appearance) and Kindness (with Fujitaka’s appearance.)

And on the background, there’s her.

The Red Queen introduces herself, still covered by that black veil, with a beautiful but sad expression. Akiho seems to have lost her sense of self too.

And waaaaah, this is how chapter 66 leaves us, with a big cliffhanger (as usual!) since reaching the Queen seemed the ultimate goal, and now in the next chapter we’ll probably begin to see what Kaito wants Sakura to do in this Clockland!!

A bit of random additional considerations on this chapter: as I had already stated in my post for chapter 64, when the play started, the characters of the play have all been featured with a different font than usual in the bubbles. They were playing a role, after all. If the character was talking outside the play (like, for example, Syaoran in previous chapter), that character would get a regular font. But the Sakura talking in the environment of the play (included *after* she crossed to the other side) and even the Syaoran who is accompanying her to the Red Queen right now, or the Red Queen herself, they all talk with a particular font. It might seem a little thing, but it’s actually VERY important to discern who’s *playing a role* and who is their genuine self. As I often said, Clear Card needs to be read on all its different levels, to be able to understand it fully in all its nuances.

I thought this might’ve been the first chapter of the very last volume of this sequel, but seeing the pace in which things happened in this chapter, I’m not so sure anymore. We’ll need to see the next one. And now, a quick reminder of the dates for the next chapter, chapter 67:

October 30th, on Bookwalker (digital, ENG) October 31st, on Clamp-fans and Comic-days (digital, JP and other languages) November 2nd, on Nakayoshi (paper and digital, JP)

As usual, I'll await for your questions and theories in my inbox! See you at the end of October!!

[vivianbernadetteaurora]

Rating outfits

Diana's revenge dress. When lady die broke up with Prince Charles she wore this little sexy number, and the world went absolutely crazy at the time and still do this day something that made it black recently was finding pictures of Camilla Parker Bowles dressed in the same outfit while it doing nothing for her basically and the general public like slating her I've got no problem with Camilla, it wasn't great that she caught with a married Prince Charles but they'd always been the love of each of his lives for years and years and poor Princess Diana didn't know what she was walking into it such a young age with their massive age gap prince Charles being years ahead of him and Diana being younger than her years emotionally.

This was the problem and this is why the relationship come last plus a completely different types of Personality Diana was a sensitive type and loved the public and loved helping the vulnerable,while Charles had his mother issues and, resented for not letting him b with Camilla. And it was weird because before he dated Diana's sister. But like I said this dress was ahead of its time and was one of the first iconic dresses especially in the royal family beautiful elegant flattering for a taller lady and not too much excess jewelry just the pearls and the tights love it.

Christina Aguilera Xtina

She will always be my style Icon and I absolutely love every look she has and she's safe photogenic even with this crazy hair miss Christina Aguilera could pull this off unlike anybody else , even the velour with the crazy hair looks amazing......

Actually it's more velvet than the law and even though it is OTT I'm very camp it is one of the tamer looks I guess in the dress sense not the hair so much. Else I love about this outfit is a little slinky gold bag and the gold jewellery to go with the makeup and the dress she's a winner every time and she is my style Icon when I lose my weight I'm gonna dress like X Tina.

Kylie Minogue

This was the Kylie look that started off her career the hot pants and the purt bottom , it's classic because she's not too over the top the outfit might be and it's still very camp and I love a camp out for but Kylie has always had a very naturally look, I don't know if she ever was but she could have definitely been a model not a super model because she's not tall enough she's really dinky but some sort of model may be catalog. My younger cousin used to really fancy Kylie when he was a little boy and she definitely has some classic beautiful features what else I love about this is a back and lace up top.

Cameron Diaz and Drew Barrymore

Story to this picture is on the premier to Charlie's Angels which I think was 2000 or 2001, I believe limo broke down, and they walked instead and had got drunk on the way proper Hollywood girl Hollywood dream as I Asia rostica would say. What I love about cameras outfit it's the colour for a start the plum and the asymmetrical look I have always loved that look and my mum always said like she didn't like things that were one-sided and upsided but for some reason this outfit really does Cameron with her height Justice, it just goes really well with her colouring and she looks so naturally beautiful as she always has over the years and still love to this day she left Holly would I believe because of the shit she was getting and I'm glad that she's got away from, going on to Drew her outfit is very early 2000s one being the leather pants they wet fucking everywhere you couldn't get away from them I literally chubby preteen me had a purple kind of like the color that Cameron wearing here on her, even had the matching jacket, it's also the slogan T-shirt for me I just love it those so casual for a premier of a film.

CHER

This is one of shares iconic looked through of the 1970s honestly she looks like ace freshly out of kiss.

Is 1970s it's almost a joke but yeah again it's camp which is everything Cher has , even her beautiful colouring and lovely black hair a little bit curly but wavy, but let's face it no one else but she could get away with this outfit I don't feel even Kim Kardashian who loved to copy Cher quite a lot would not get away with this outfit as much.

Paris Hilton

I always love Paris Hilton's outfits a lot of the time from the early 2000s. But this outfit I'm not too keen on at all I mean don't get me wrong I love the top and I love the bottom I just don't like the combination together on its own it would look amazing and vice versa first with the skirt. One thing I do like about the outfit though is the jewelry and the shoes oh no the shoes of the ones I don't do like like too much on this their shoes I've never seen before but like I said I'm not a big shoe girl one because they have big feet two because I have flat fee which makes it difficult to wear anything that's nice on my feet apart from Skechers.

Miley Cyrus

Last and certainly not least is Miley Cyrus this look of Harry I love this new grunge era she seems like such a girls go and the band t-shirt and the rocker girl look is perfect for her aesthetic, be honest this girl can look good in most things but to be honest I prefer her casual look like this one it's something that's timeless and can always be fair it's like grunge Revival .

[hooked-on-elvis]

🎸Scotty Moore's guitars⚡

Scotty Moore with his '54 Gibson L-5 CESN, originally purchased by him in July 7, 1955.

Besides how it was recording with Elvis and other amazing stories such as one incident involving the three rock and roll pioneers (Elvis, Bill and Scotty) and Bill Black's bass later owned by Paul McCartney, on this interview Scotty talks a bit about his early music instruments' history, such as amplifiers and guitars. He mentions the✨Gibson L-5 CES✨, which we'll know about a bit more from now on:

Much of the RCA 50's recordings of Elvis Presley feature the sound of Scotty Moore's L-5.

Scotty (with Gibson L-5), D.J. Fontana (drums), Elvis (with 1951 Epiphone FT-79*) and Bill Black (bass) in Texarkana, AR, 1955. * The 1951 Epiphone Elvis is playing belonged to Charline Arthur, a female American singer of boogie-woogie, blues, and early rockabilly.

Scotty traded his ES-295 in on July 7, 1955 at the O.K. Houck Piano Co. located on 121 Union Avenue in Memphis, for this Gibson L5 "mainly because the workmanship was just so much better in the L5, of course it cost more too" ($565.00).

L5 CES ad, and Scotty's original receipt for the 1954 L5 CESN.

Much of the RCA fifties recordings of Elvis Presley feature the sound of Scotty Moore's L-5. Scotty (with L5) and Elvis rehearse for the Milton Berle show, June 1956.

Scotty's Gibson L-5 was first used to record "Mystery Train" and on most of the subsequent RCA recordings until January of 57 (though it was apparently used on stage at least in Buffalo, NY on April 1, and Toronto on April 2, 1957). Scotty used it extensively with a custom--built Echosonic amplifier by Ray Butts acquired around April of 55 (which allowed the ability to perform live with the signature slap-back echo sound of the recordings).

The Gibson L5 CES features a single rounded cutaway 17" wide bound hollow body, solid carved spruce top, layered tortoise pickguard, single bound f-holes, maple back/sides/neck, 20 fret bound pointed ebony fingerboard with pearl block inlay, adjustable rosewood bridge, model name engraved trapeze tailpiece with chrome insert, multibound blackface peghead with pearl flame/logo inlay, 3 per side tuners, gold hardware, 2 pickups (P90 single coil in 51, Alnico V in 54 and Humbucker in 57) , 2 volume/2 tone controls, 3 position switch. Available in Natural (Scotty's) and Sunburst finish. Mfd. 1951 to date.

Source: http://www.scottymoore.net/54L5CES.html

Scotty' L5 The guitar when displayed at the Memphis Rock 'N' Soul Museum.

This guitar was owned by Robert A. Johnson for many years and had been on loan for display at the Memphis Rock 'N' Soul Museum. It was sold in 2004 and expected to be on display at the Elvis-A-Rama museum in Las Vegas, NV. In September of 2005 CKX, Inc (the parent company to EPE, Inc.) announced that it had agreed to acquire the assets of Elvis-A-Rama with the intent of closing it with an overall plan to bring a world class Elvis-themed attraction to the Las Vegas strip. Prior to that though this L5 was sold to a private collector in the UK and is no longer on display. Scotty's L5 was purchased from the UK collector in February of 2005 by Heather Mozart shortly after the auction and along with Scotty's 1956 Super 400, Elvis' 1968 Ebony J200 and many other items remains part of her collection.

Scotty's original 1956 Super 400, 1954 L5 and Elvis' 1968 J200 (Elvis' record awards in rear).

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🎸 SCOTTY'S GUITARS OVER THE YEARS

MUCH MORE ABOUT ALL SCOOTY MOORE'S GUITARS, HERE (http://www.scottymoore.net/guitars.html) - Website created and managed by James V. Roy for Scotty Moore with the sole intent to help promote the arts and history of American popular music and Scotty's major role in it.

[byneddiedingo]

Adrienne Shelly in The Unbelievable Truth (Hal Hartley, 1989)

Cast: Adrienne Shelly, Robert John Burke, Chris Cooke, Julia McNeal, Katherine Mayfield, Gary Sauer, Mark Chandler Bailey, David Healy, Matt Malloy, Edie Falco. Screenplay: Hal Hartley. Cinematography: Michael Spiller. Production design: Carla Gerona. Film editing: Hal Hartley. Music: Jim Coleman.

In his debut feature, Hal Hartley adroitly mixes the old "stranger comes to town" story trope into a romantic comedy. The result has the DNA of Jim Jarmusch and Preston Sturges in it, but it's all Hartley's own, and it's lovely. The film begins with a hitchhiker who finally gets a ride after repairing a broken-down car whose driver had earlier passed him up. Because the hitchhiker is dressed all in black, driver asks him if he's a priest. (Not the last time someone will ask him that.) No, he says, but when he says that he's been in prison, we see the car come to an abrupt stop and the man and his bag get tossed out of the car. It's a harbinger of the numerous times in the film when the man in black, whose name is Joshua Hutton (Robert John Burke), will have to confront his past. When he finally arrives at his destination, his old home town, the first person he meets is a young woman named Pearl (Julia McNeal), who faints dead away at the sight of him. We learn that Joshua was sent to prison after he killed Pearl's sister and her father. So he's not really a stranger come to town, but he might as well be, since most of the town can't quite remember what he was accused of -- the gossips inflate it into some kind of mass murder. Eventually, we will find out the not-so-unbelievable truth of what Joshua did, but not before he falls in love with Audry Hugo (Adrienne Shelly), who helps him get a job in her father's auto repair shop. It's a droll romance, complicated by the fact that Audry walks around in a gloomy funk, convinced that the world is about to end in a nuclear holocaust. Burke and Shelly play their roles with a kind of deadpan that serves as a foil to the emotional volatility that surrounds them. There's Audry's father, Vic (Chris Cooke), whose hilarious exasperation with her is reminiscent of William Demarest's outbursts in The Miracle of Morgan's Creek (Preston Sturges, 1944). There's her ex-boyfriend, Mike (Mark Chandler Bailey), who is so infuriated at being dumped by her that he gets into shoving matches with almost every man he suspects of being a rival. But the film would be nothing without Hartley's ability to skew every turn in the plot or action of his characters in a direction just a few degrees off what we expect. It's a sly, loopy gem of a movie.

[mlobsters]

supernatural s13e1 lost and found (w. andrew dabb)

metallica's nothing else matters for the road so far recap? mmmk. i loved the black album.* it's in my big playlist right now! and nothing else matters was very teen angst sad boy shit appropriate for me (album came out when i was 11 and i remember it featuring at middle school dances) but this song is way too downtempo for the clips/editing as it progresses before we get to the loud parts. weird choice. and maybe shows do this all the time and it's not with songs i know well enough to notice, but splitting the song up midway through is very jarring. i get cutting down the long instrumental intro, but segueing into lyrics differently? buh. stranger things did it with atmosphere by joy division and it wasn't terrible, but noticeable. but the scene/song combo was so impactful to me i didn't care because i was a mess

the overriding theme here with this song and clip selection is like 🚨FAMILY 🚨okay bro, i get it. calm down. is this why i see people harping on how the show is about family, not just sam and dean? is this gonna be A Thing? or am i projecting? both?? i have literally nothing else i might want do if i don't watch this. but i also don't really want to watch this. sigh.

and now i'm all distracted by them using some new fancy filming technique while they're driving where they're being paced and we're seeing the conversation from the outside and it was cool at first but it keeps going and now i'm just too busy trying to figure out where the camera is and where it's going and getting vaguely dizzy.

i get what and why they're doing this thing with jack being at the station with the sheriff but also. im tired

all right. this also reminds me of hmm. combo leo in titanic and ...josh hartnett in pearl harbor?? o.0

glad sam is totally freaked out and afraid of jack, as he should be

JACK (still fondling the wall) Lucifer? No, that's not his name. My father is Castiel.

LOL transcriber! fondling?? how about touching. anyway. papa castiel it is

MIRIAM I don't know what he's told you. I mean, I can guess. Some line about how he and his brother… (deepens voice) save the world. Grr. So macho. (she sighs and speaks in her normal voice) But really, he's not a hero. He's Becky. DEAN Becky? The roommate Becky? MIRIAM You take things and break things and piss people off, and just do whatever you want, no matter who it hurts. Also, you're a giant super bitch. DEAN Well, it takes one to know one. MIRIAM So, yeah, you're Becky, and Becky needs to die.

really odd choice to go with becky for this whole story business, unless they're invoking the actual becky from the show it's just confusing. i really hope it's not show-becky.

i think these are the angels that were in the script in 12x23? got 'em in now, i guess. so i thought carver was around for s12 but apparently it switched to dabb/singer as showrunners that season

....why did the angel just stab the sheriff's kid...? i know they're generally not big on humans but stabbing one for no real reason other than some distraction seems a bit excessive.

MIRIAM: Oh, sweetie. Almost anything. Castiel, he's dead. All the way dead, because of you.

rolling my eyes. that's a reach to try to induce a guilt trip

conveniently got confirmation that jack can't be killed easily, as expected being how they talk him up like he's more powerful than anything basically for whatever reason

DEAN Okay, Chuck… or God, or whatever. I need your help. See, you– you left us. You left us. You went off. You said… You said the earth would be fine because it had me… and it had Sam, but it’s not, and we’re not. We’ve lost everything. And now you’re gonna bring him back. Okay? You’re gonna bring back Cas, you’re gonna bring back Mom, you’re gonna bring ‘em all back. All of ‘em. Even Crowley. ’Cause after everything that you’ve done, you owe us, you son of a bitch. So you get your ass down here and you make this right, right here and right now.

being a cynical asshole but ok scenic backdrop for this praying to chuck that he could have done in the car. and he's giving my kids when they want something. need some foot stomping. punch something and risk breaking your hand instead, good choice

i think there's a handful of reasons** but i have never emotionally connected with cas and this... angsting and preparing to burn him and all, knowing that it's all going to be walked back at some point, it's just frustrating and exhausting. and now we're mourning cas, kelly, mom, crowley....

i didn't want to be sitting and stewing over pondering the logistics of how cas comes backs so i went and looked it up. and um, okay. i'm sure i'll have some thoughts about when it rolls around.

well, suffice it to say, i didn't particularly enjoy this episode. and had surprisingly little (for me) to say about it.

**his characterization that seems to change week to week is part of it and how the show talked up his relationship with the boys but didn't match up to what they were showing us for seasons on end. and unfortunately, how some sectors of fandom are about him also i think has an effect. which is a bummer all the way around

*oh james. i do enjoy your voice. i saw them live once or twice i think, but i don't really remember it. it was in the days of the album with the blood and jizz on the cover, which people didn't like. the songs or the jizz, i think

according to wikipedia, james also didn't like the blood and jizz artwork, and says homophobic shit in his explanation. great!

[whileiamdying]

The Untouchable Tina Turner

Some people perform music; some people become music.

By Amanda Petrusich May 25, 2023

On Wednesday, one of the great American voices—gritty, vehement, tender, and red-hot, containing, somehow, both the entire history and future of rock and roll—went silent. Tina Turner, who was born Anna Mae Bullock, in 1939, in Brownsville, Tennessee, died at her home in Switzerland, at age eighty-three. She was known for her superhuman resilience, and, in a way, I came to believe that she was actually invincible. In 1988, when she was forty-eight years old, she performed to some hundred and eighty thousand fans in Rio de Janeiro, ousting Frank Sinatra from the record books by drawing what was, at that point, the largest-ever ticketed crowd for a solo performer. The show was filmed, thank heavens. The energy is uncanny. Bionic. It’s like watching an Olympic final in Being Badass. Early in the set, wearing a fringed minidress, heeled ankle boots, and a pearl necklace, Turner performs “Better Be Good to Me,” a single from 1984. It’s a song about being in love with someone you don’t entirely trust. “Should I be fractured by your lack of devotion?” she wonders in the first verse. The next bit contains all of her magic. She’s asking a question, but her tone isn’t earnest, it’s incredulous. How dare this person expect her to compromise? “Should I? Should I?” she roars. You will want to holler “NO!” at your screen—but, of course, the question was always rhetorical.

Turner was brought up on a cotton farm and educated in a segregated, one-room schoolhouse. She grew up singing in the choir of the Spring Hill Baptist Church in Nutbush, about sixty miles northeast of Memphis. Her great-great-grandfather, Logan Currie, Sr., had been enslaved in the same region. “I hated the cotton field,” she told Henry Louis Gates, Jr., in a 2007 interview for PBS. “There were those hairy worms crawling, the spiders.” Turner later moved to St. Louis, where she met Ike Turner at the Manhattan Club, a Black bar and venue. She eventually persuaded Ike to let her sing with his band, the Kings of Rhythm. They became romantically involved, and, in 1960, formed the Ike & Tina Turner Revue, becoming hugely popular on the Chitlin’ Circuit, a series of Black-owned night clubs throughout the southeast. In 1971, they had a crossover hit with their cover of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Proud Mary,” and performed the song on “The Ed Sullivan Show.” For the broadcast, Turner wears a gold flapper dress. She bounces around the stage vigorously, so gleeful and open and strong that it feels as though, surely, she must have an extra set of lungs stashed somewhere. There’s a looseness to her performance that’s far funkier and more human than the hyper-choreographed, steel-eyed stylings of her modern counterparts. I don’t know how to describe it. She is simply very, very alive.

It’s still hard to write about the sixteen years she spent in that abusive, ugly relationship with Ike. She escaped the marriage in 1976. She was thirty-seven years old, and in possession of just thirty-six cents and a Mobil gasoline card. “I didn’t fear him killing me when I left, because I was already dead,” she told People, in 1981. It was the first time that she had spoken publicly about the abuse, and she described it as “torture.” Besides the usual subjugations (beating and berating her), Ike had changed her name and assumed control of her career and finances. It’s easy to think of this experience as the defining trauma of Turner’s life and art—to presume that it shaped and informed her music in a deep and irrefutable way—but it feels stupid, even unfair, to give Ike, who died of a cocaine overdose in 2007, any more air in her story. There have been two memoirs, a Broadway musical, a feature film, interviews. Turner was asked to confront and remember her abuse for decades after it ended. It feels proper to free her of it now. “I don’t like to pull out old clothes,” Turner said in “Tina,” an HBO documentary from 2021. “It’s like old memories, you just want to leave that in the past.”

Let us look, then, to the nineteen-eighties, a decade in which Turner, liberated from her marriage, dominated the charts and the national imagination: the voice, the power, the presence, the legs, the wardrobe, the hair. My God, the dancing! How free does a person have to be to move that way? Freer than I have ever felt or been, certainly. Some people perform music; some people become music. If you’re having a miserable day, one foolproof cure is typing “Tina Turner live 1985” into the YouTube search bar, and bearing witness to something virtuosic, if not divinely ordained. At the time, Turner was on tour in support of the multiplatinum “Private Dancer,” her fifth full-length album, and the record that resuscitated and then ignited her solo career. There’s some extraordinary footage of David Bowie joining her onstage at a show in Birmingham, England, for a duet of “Tonight,” a song first released on Iggy Pop’s “Lust for Life,” in 1977. Bowie, who co-wrote the track—it features a repeating Aretha Franklin sample—appears on the original; he went on to record it for an album of his own, in 1984. Turner guested on Bowie’s version (they skipped Pop’s spoken-word intro, which describes a heroin overdose). Watching them do it live is electrifying. Bowie is grinning so much and so wildly that I wonder how he even manages to keep on singing. They slow dance for a bit in the middle, while Tim Cappello plays a shirtless saxophone solo. I would call this section “steamy,” but it feels like too chaste of a word. “This is a privilege,” Bowie says, when it’s all over. Boy, does he mean it.

Turner’s later years were appropriately lavish. After she retired, she lived in Küsnacht, Switzerland, in an estate known as the Château Algonquin, with clear views of Lake Zurich, and, according to a 2019 profile in the Times, “a life-size two-legged horse sculpture suspended from a domed ceiling, a framed rendering of Turner as an Egyptian queen, a room stuffed with gilded Louis XIV style sofas.” A plaque on the gate announces that, of course, no deliveries should be attempted before noon. Who would dare? Turner stopped performing in 2009, freeing herself of a substantial burden: “I was just tired of singing and making everybody happy,” she said. “That’s all I’d ever done in my life.” How glorious that must have felt—having only to worry about her own joy.

I was having lunch in Chinatown with friends when the news was announced. I had ordered a glass of white wine—indulgent for a weekday afternoon, I suppose, but I was feeling a little indulgent. I experienced a quick pang in my gut when one of my companions announced that Turner had died—the sharp, needling ache that comes when someone who you didn’t know personally, but who you understood to have contributed, in a profound and robust way, to the general goodness of the world, had left it. I swallowed the last of my drink. It felt right to be a little unsteady in that moment. “Tina would have had the wine,” the group chat later confirmed. Did Turner even drink? Who cares? The point was that she found a way to tap into some deep wellspring of ease and abandon and self-love, and drew from it when she needed to. And now she has left that for us, in her music, in her voice, in the singular way she occupied a stage. In this sense, she is untouchable, forever. ♦

[theliterateape]

I Like to Watch | Barbarian (2022)

by Don Hall

Both Tarantino and Scorsese have bemoaned the lack of imagination throttling film these days. Their argument is that Hollywood behemoths like Marvel and the proliferation of tentpole green screen filmmaking, with the amount of money at stake even to get a project green lit, the risk taking required for innovation is squashed. I hear that and, despite my love for all things super-powered beings on screen, I'd further argue that a solid portion of the blame falls on the amazing democratization of filmmaking via streaming.

In the rush for more to watch (hastened by the pandemic), movies have become content and content requires less in terms of innovation and more in terms of, well, more. The result is a parade of half-baked star vehicles that look phenomenal but ask someone to tell you what it was they saw the night before on Netflix and most can't recount the story just the star power. What was the plot of The Grey Man? Or Red Notice? Or any of the Chris's movies about Navy Seals and CIA agents combatting a corrupt system? A benefit of more money shoved into streaming is that we get more film and television created and directed by and featuring Black, Asian, and Latino talent but with more comes the inevitable leveling stick that increased projects from these communities automatically equals more crap, too.

For every One Night in Miami, there's a Till, the first a highly imaginative take on historical fiction, the other a soap opera of long portrait shots of grief surrounded by a story we already knew. For every Parasite we are forced to sit through some other Netflix show from Korea that is mostly an ape of other, better shows but are seriously difficult to distinguish from four others pumped out of the content machine.

The one genre that finds some purchase in the territory of risk (because it simply costs less to make) is horror. Since before the 1980's, horror filmmakers have worked with less resource to create more memories than nearly any other. John Carpenter revolutionized things by cranking out genuinely scary, incredibly successful horror movies, on a shoestring budget. Plainly, horror is the genre where risk is rewarded time and time again.

I'd heard the rumblings about Zach Cregger's directorial debut Barbarian. I saw the trailer with Georgina Campbell and Bill Skarsgård dancing around the Fincheresque premise of two people accidentally being booked in the same AirBnB at night in the rain. I didn't read much about it but the buzz was there and, from my vantage, no one was revealing much except that Justin Long was in there somewhere and the third act was fucking nuts. I put it on my list (but first I needed to watch Andor, The Peripheral, Tulsa King, something amazing with Gerard Butler and his missing wife, and another Netflix show about a true crime.

I did find time for Ty West's X and found it to be a great ride, smartly imitating the grind house movies of the 1970's and an unusual villain boiled down to an old horny lady who murders the young cast of porn stars because they make her feel undesired as if my third ex-wife was 90-years old demanding orgasms from an decreasingly interested pool of clients until killing them is just better than a dildo. Mia Goth surprised me as both the starry-eyed porn ingenue and the homicidal Pearl but I knew going in that it was the old broad doing the murders. It was still incredibly creative and used the now cookie cut tropes of modern horror with a spin and a dip that made it fresh, gross, funny, and unlike many other content available.

According to interviews, Cregger was inspired by the idea that women should trust their intuition when it comes to red flags in their everyday interactions with men. He wrote one scene that used as many of those red flags as possible, settling on the premise of a young woman in Detroit for a job interview who finds herself sharing a rental with a complete stranger. Again, a premise Fincher would run with but Cregger hit a wall. Where to go with this slice of potential toxic maleness that wasn't obvious? He then changed it up and decided that the first act would Fincher and the third act would be Raimi. The result is a movie that comes off as one-third thriller, one-third set up, and one-third monster movie.

In a recent I Like to Watch Podcast, co-host Donnie Smith and I talk at length about one of my favorite scary movies, Victor Salva's 2001 Jeepers Creepers. The first half feels like a standard slasher film, following cliches of that specific narrative but then makes a left turn into straight up monster movie and the switch makes it truly fun. Also starring Justin Long, it remains an annual viewing for me.

Barbarian leaves me with a similar WHAT THE FUCK, DUDE? feeling that I love. Like X, the monster revealed is an old woman but she is preverbal and instead of wanting to get busy with her victims and kills those who deny her this, she wants her victims to be her children and, when they reject her maternal instincts by refusing to be breastfed by a grotesque teet, well, the kid has to die, right? Adding to the second act is Long as a sitcom star recently accused of raping a co-star (and, unambiguously was definitively guilty of the crime) who owns the AirBnB. Cregger thus presents us with a heroine who discovers the horror followed by an idiot who then rediscovers the same horror, the first we're routing for, the second we want to see some comeuppance.

This is a truly imaginative, risky film. The script is great, the performances (especially Campbell) are stellar, and nothing about this smart, idea-driven monster movie is anything but outside the box. I finished it and, instead of then moving on to another movie or streaming show, I just wanted to sit with it, stewing on the concepts, reliving the moments I didn't expect (one of my favorite scenes involves Campbell, having escaped and calling the Detroit police only to have the cops look at her as if she were on crack or nuts rather than rush into the breach like movie cops usually do—her shock at their disbelief feels like reality which is always a solid surprise in a story of fantastical twists), and wishing I could rewatch it for the first time.

Tarantino and Scorsese have a point but it isn't that there is no more imagination happening. With the glut of content, like Nick Cage's pig in the brilliant (and unexpected) Pig, you have to dig in the mud to find those truffles, gang.