#but she also like. has not done NEARLY the amount of introspection or work that her canon self has

[crimeronan]

Been thinking about a scenario in which 'mellower' Amity stops being so for some reason, and Willow is really disappointed at herself for thinking maybe she did change... then I realized I'm thinking about Luz and Hunter at 'Huntering Palisman', almost literally switched them in during that 'you are not my friend' scene (definitely going to google for some swap aus art now).

OUGH.

you're not my friend. you're still just amity blight....

[vanillawriterv]

Markus Deserved Better from DBH

This ended up hella long but Markus deserved better from David Cage and I’m upset about it, ok?  

Anybody who’s been involved or seen the Detroit: Become Human fandom knows that Connor is the most favorited by the voiced community, and he absolutely deserves the love he gets. He’s an intriguing character with a cute face, and the fandom has widely noted that. Kara is a widely loved character as well, just as she should be. We see so many raw emotions from Kara that make us relate and empathize with her, and she’s a strong willed person. Markus, however, isn't as widely appreciated. Don’t get me wrong, I know there are tons and tons of posts and art and writing and appreciation for him, but that pales in comparison to that of Connor or Kara. I’ve seen people blame this on “deep rooted racism” and all that lovely stuff, but there are a variety of reasons Markus doesn’t resonate with most as much as Kara or Connor, and why he deserved better from the creators. It makes the whole thing even weirder because Markus is the integral piece of the entire game. 

Connor and Kara’s plot lines are obviously very important. Connor’s conflict in finding out who he is and what he wants to be is emotional, and him being a detective is crucial to his story. Connor’s end goal is to find Jericho, which is centered mainly around Markus’ story. Kara’s conflict in deciding to do what’s best for Alice, even if what she does isn’t “morally” correct, is also extremely emotional and really makes you evaluate what you would do for the ones you love, no matter how inherently “wrong” it is. Her being an Android and trying to take care of Alice and find Jericho to get to Canada are crucial to the story, and her end goal is centered mainly around Markus’ story as well. 

Markus’ plot is the most important part of Detroit: Become Human. Without him, it would have taken another Android to finally decide to revolt, and given that he had to convince Jericho when he got there, it would have taken a decent amount of time. If Markus didn’t begin a revolution, Connor wouldn’t have ended up working towards finding Jericho because Androids would only have acted out individually with no name behind their cause, and widespread deviancy would be eradicated if someone else didn’t unite them all before they really started getting rid of deviants. Though Connor could have found deviancy without the revolution or Jericho, his character arc centers around witnessing his own people stand up for themselves and him deciding who he’s going to be. Connor without Markus would just be a detective doing cases on the very thing he’s never supposed to be and he’ll either remain a machine, or become a deviant and have to deal with that without a cause on his side. 

Kara would probably still end up looking for Jericho with Alice because of the Android that shared information with her when they were looking for a place to stay the night, but she’d be greeted with pre-Markus Jericho that doesn’t do much but hide. She probably wouldn’t have made it to Canada or even the border if this happened. 

This all means that all their stories—and plenty of other side characters’ stories—revolve around Markus, who he is, and what his existence means in the game. Now, this isn’t actually very obvious in the game. It doesn’t take deep thinking or any real situation assessment to realise exactly how crucial Markus is to the game and every character’s development, but it isn’t as clear as it should be. Markus should be the point the game revolves around because he’s why it exists—so why don’t we feel nearly as emotionally attached to him? 

Well, we don’t get to see who Markus is. We see Markus speaking for a community as a whole, not really for himself. He puts himself in a position where most of what he says is said for Androids everywhere, and not necessarily his personal thoughts or aspirations. Yes, he wants to lead this revolution, but that’s his only characteristic he was given. Markus’ only purpose all the way throughout the entire game is the revolution. Of course, if you go the right route and choose the right things, you get one(1) possible love interest, but even that route is empty and bland of actual bonding or real insight to how Markus might be thinking or feeling. The only time we get to see Markus—and the thing that resonates within the people whose favorite character is Markus—is how he got to where he was. Connor is hesitant in his path of figuring out who he is against who he’s “supposed” to be. Kara is determined to take care of a child who hasn’t had the proper care. But Markus? Markus was the character who realised that nobody was going to stand up for him and that if he wanted protection, and rights, and thoughts, and to be independent he was going to have to do it himself. He stood up for himself when nobody could or would, and the people who realised that are the people who see exactly how valuable he is to the story and how much character he has inside of him that isn’t being shown to us throughout the rest of the game. 

Connor and Kara have plenty of moments bonding with other people and expressing their thoughts or concerns. Connor has Hank, and they routinely interact in a way meant to make you connected to them both by sharing thoughts, ideas, and moments. Kara has Alice from the beginning, and it quickly develops our emotional connection to them both because they both need the other, and that is a strong, relatable emotional bond. Eventually Kara gets Luther who allows for more of Kara’s thoughts to be shown rather than just her emotions, as well as Luther’s, which give us an emotional connection to both of them. But Markus doesn’t really have those moments. Yes, he has Josh, North, and Simon, but the only talks they really had were about the revolution and Jericho’s decisions as a whole. There were so little scenes showing Markus connecting with others in a more intimate way than just recruiting them or speaking to Jericho as a whole, and they were pretty late into the game when we’d all already fallen in love with these other Characters. 

It’s poor writing to only begin connecting the player to the main piece of why the story’s happening near the end of the entire game. There was time for more, in general, from Markus. 

Plus—and this one really irks me as a music fan in general—his theme was a crime. I watched a playthrough before I ever played the game, and one of the first things I noted was the intensity of Connor’s theme. You all know it, and it is so packed with emotion that you can feel without having to know anything about the game. Nima Fakhrara, the composer of Connor’s theme, put so much of Connor’s conflict and internal struggles into that piece, and perfectly captivated the duality of human and machine within him. Listen to it if you haven’t taken the time, it’s 8 minutes and 54 seconds of an absolutely beautiful composition. Kara’s theme moves me every time as well. Philip Sheppard, the composer of Kara’s theme, also put so much emotion into hers. The push and pull of the intensity captivates Kara’s situation so well. Her theme feels much more raw than Connor’s, by the nature of her character. Also listen to that if you haven’t, 6 minutes and 55 seconds of another absolutely beautiful composition. Markus’ theme, in comparison to Kara and Connor’s, feels so empty. It’s fitting only because of the lack of emotional value they put into Markus, and feels almost like ambiance music. You can’t feel the emotions Markus has within the piece, because we see so little of who he is. Not only that, his theme is a staggering 3 minutes and 2 seconds long. And, I believe John Paesano, the composer of Markus’ theme, is not the reason behind this lack of emotion. John Paesano also composed Marvel’s Spider Man main theme, and noted that he wanted to make the theme “more emotional and introspective.” The Spider Man main theme is also as short as Markus’ but most would argue still has a lot more emotion. There is no guarantee it wasn’t just a different artist’s take, but I believe John Paesano could have easily made a much more emotional theme for a character who actually had more emotions and personality to base the theme off of. 

Markus’ lack of emotional development, his disconnect from the player because he only speaks as a whole and the game never shows him speaking for himself or his mind, and the lack of emotion in his theme compared to such emotionally driven themes makes Markus feel unimportant and much more distant from the player. 

There were so many things David Cage could have done to make Markus feel as important as he is, but he lacked so much of what the other characters were given. I understand that what he was doing as a character didn’t provide as many opportunities as Kara or Connor to really show who he is to the player, but there was room for a more emotional Markus. He’s my favorite character in the game solely because he got up and did what no one else could or would do for himself, and if I—and many others—can fall in love with a character based on their only real emotional action, can you imagine the amount of people who’d fall in love with the rest of his missing personality? 

[daleisgreat]

The Avengers: Endgame

Over the last couple months I finally upgraded to somewhat modern TV and gaming rigs in the form of a 55” Samsung 4KTV and Xbox Series X. I own three 4K UHD discs, but one I already covered a couple years back with my entry of the BluRay version that came bundled with the 4K disc of Die Hard. The other is a two pack of the first two John Wick films, and rest assured those will get their day in the sun here eventually. From my research, the Xbox Series X is not a top shelf 4K BluRay player, at least not at the system’s launch before presumable system software updates, but also sounds like a fairly better quality version of the drive that came in the Xbox One X|S, and also supports upscaling of regular BluRays to 4K. Coincidentally, on top of my movie backlog pile was a movie I absolutely wanted to take advantage of that 4K upscaling and thus here we are with today’s write-up for 2019’s The Avengers: Endgame (trailer). WARNING: Unlike nearly most of my other movie recaps I will be diving into serious spoiler territory ahead. The amount of hype leading up to Endgame was insurmountable. Anthony and Joseph Russo did an astounding job directing the first part in 2018’s Infinity War (read my entry for it here). Both that and Endgame top the three hour mark to squeeze in as many characters, references, periphery side plots and so much more from the previous 21 Marvel Cinematic Universe films that lead up to this finale. By accomplishing just that, both movies are the breeziest three hour viewings I have experienced because the Russo brothers do a commendable job at keeping the scenes flowing and doing their best to give everyone their proper time to shine. The ending of Infinity War saw Thanos (Josh Brolin) deliver the snap heard around the world that vanished half of all life in the entire universe. It was a soul-crushing downer of a cliffhanger to end on, but the post-credits tag hinting at the cry of help for Captain Marvel (Brie Larson) left crowds with a glimmer of hope. This being based around comic books there is the unwritten rule where no one truly stays dead either, so part of the experience going into Endgame was to see how the remaining Avengers plan to bring everybody back. Endgame kicks off with the fresh effects of ‘the snap’ when it starts with Hawkeye’s family all getting dusted from him in the middle of a picnic.

The film transitions to the remaining un-dusted Avengers squad of Nebula (Karen Gillan) and Iron Man (Robert Downer Jr.) floating aimlessly in space until the convenient deus ex machina that is Captain Marvel miraculously tracks them down and hauls them back to Earth. A few weeks Avengers HQ tracks down Thanos on an isolated planet and with Captain Marvel’s power, they anticlimactically kill him off in a brief scene. This was one of the parts of the film that did not sit well with me after building up Thanos as this unrivaled threat in all the previous films, and to have the Avengers cold-bloodedly put him down in quick order seems so……unlike them, but he did off half the universe so I understand how the Russo’s felt justified for filming it that way, but I cannot help that it did not come across right, and could have been handled better. Of course, a more proper Thanos battle would be coming later in the final act thanks to my pet peeve plot device that is…. …TIME TRAVEL!!!! This and alternate dimension traveling I despise and have turned me off to many shows over the years like Lost and CW’s DC shows. The worst of it is indeed present here because meaningful character deaths that happened in Infinity War to Loki (Tom Hiddleston) and Gamura (Karen Gillan) become undone and their sacrifices proved for naught. All that griping aside however, I will give the Russo brothers credit because even with those qualms I feel they pull off time travel and have it appear as more than a convenient storytelling method. Again, major props because that is a hell of a hurdle to overcome. The filmmakers go out of their way in a couple scenes to directly call out Back to the Future’s style of time travel bullshit, and have a couple characters ever-so-carefully explain in detail and for the laymen how “real” time travel works.

This is all thanks to a rambunctious rat who inadvertently zaps Ant Man (Paul Rudd) out of the Quantum Realm…after being trapped there five years due to his team being on the end of a dusting before bringing him back. Ant Man deduces upon his return that he is able to undo the dusting through his van-quantum-realm-contraption, and convinces the Avengers to conjure up a plan they cleverly dub the “Time Heist” to travel back to capture all the Infinity Gems Stones before Thanos does. I loved how these scenes played out, and there is a plethora of fan service throughout it as the three squads of Avengers jump to different periods like the final battle of the original Avengers film, and a 1970 military base where Howard Stark (John Slattery) unknowingly meets his son. Plans do not proceed swimmingly to say the least, and past timeline Thanos becomes clued in to their plan and thwarts the Avengers attempt at trying to undo the past in a CG showpiece for the ages with his assault on Avengers HQ. The CG fireworks continue to dazzle for the bulk of the final hour of the film with a climatic showdown between Thanos and his forces against The Avengers and the returning of the dusted Marvel characters. I have seen too many comic book films fail at translating over-the-top comic book action on the silver screen, but the Russo brothers always manage to pull it off. I fondly remember the theater crowd going gaga when Captain America (Chris Evans) summons Mjolnir and wallops Thanos with it. The women of Marvel have another moment to shine together where they collectively team up to kick ass. Moments of levity are brilliantly peppered in throughout the chaos for a much-needed chuckle from the nonstop adrenaline-boosting action. That final battle masterfully builds up to the dramatic sacrifice of Iron Man in the standout emotional scene of the film.

The resulting aftermath was heartwarmingly done here with a pre-recorded farewell from Iron Man, and a collage of nearly all the major and minor MCU characters at Iron Man’s funeral. I believe this is the first MCU film without a post-credits tag, and that is 100% fine by me, because the beginning of the credits is a lovingly crafted tribute to the original Avengers cast done in the fashion of the Original Series cast of Star Trek VI that resonated with me feeling the end of a pivotal era of the MCU that I have been largely enjoying since the original 2008 Iron Man. I usually do not dive into this much detail and spoilers when recapping the movies here, but due to this being the final chapter of this era of the MCU films I could not help myself, and believe me there is so much more I wanted to dive in here on because like I said, the Russo brothers crammed in an incredible amount of narrative into three hours. There is so much ground in here it is impossible for me to recap it all, and that it will in all likelihood be the fastest three hour movie you will ever endure. I did not get a chance to even touch on over-the-hill Thor (Chris Hemsworth) and the hybrid Bruce Banner/Hulk (Mark Ruffalo (spoiler: they both killed it!)). Endgame unsurprisingly did major bank at the box office, so I feel safe knowing most of you reading this already watched it by now which is another reason I went all out on the spoilers.

I re-watched the film for this entry a second time with commentary from the Russo brothers, and writers Christopher Markus & Stephen McFeely, and that greatly helped explain some little tidbits that were easy to miss and/or not fully comprehend in the midst of the three hours. I know this is a little detail, but I want to give props to Marvel for being one of the few companies out there for shelling out resources to caption the commentary track! I exponentially appreciate it more than you know! The commentary helped with understanding why they did not do a lot for Black Widow’s (Scarlett Johansson) aftermath of her death because she has her prequel film set to release. Other notable takeaways from the commentary was how Stark’s “I am Iron Man” line was a last minute addition to the film, giving credit to Star Trek VI as inspiration for their credits sequence, being hopeful for Marvel capitalizing on Falcon donning Cap’s shield and lots of understandable love for the visual effects team for their hard work. Aside from the commentary track, the BluRay has a second disc with just under an hour of bonus material. There is the requisite short, but top-of-the-line gag reel that is standard in most Marvel Studios home videos. There are five minutes of deleted scenes worth a look, with some of them lightheartedly covering up plot holes. Remembering Stan Lee is a touching tribute to Stan, filled with archived interviews from him on his experiences in the cameos, and showing plenty of delightful off-camera interactions with the cast and crew. There are well done character profile pieces for Thor, Black Widow, Captain America and Iron Man, with each one having countless cast and crew state proper kudos to what the actors have done for those characters over the years. If you only have time for one then I recommend Man Out of Time: Creating Captain America, because it goes into a little more detail than the others and Chris Evans has some intriguing introspection from his years with the character. Finally, there are short, but worthwhile pieces on the Russo brothers and the women of the MCU that should not be skipped out on either.

As I mentioned above, the hype building up to Endgame was insurmountable, but Joseph and Anthony Russo overcame the odds and delivered a gratifying conclusion to this era of the MCU. Watching the BluRay upscaled in 4K on a TV about a third bigger than my previous set made it a grander experience too for those showpiece moments. Sure I had quibbles and nitpicks I mentioned above, but by and large those are easily overcome by how much the Russo brothers got it right with this film. I am kicking myself for waiting a year and a half to re-watch it, but picked up on a lot of little things that went right over mine and Drax’s heads the first time out. If you have yet to give The Avengers: Endgame another viewing, then do not hesitate because you will not regret once again taking in this landmark epic that delivered against all odds! Other Random Backlog Movie Blogs 3 12 Angry Men (1957) 12 Rounds 3: Lockdown 21 Jump Street The Accountant Angry Video Game Nerd: The Movie Atari: Game Over The Avengers: Age of Ultron The Avengers: Infinity War Batman: The Dark Knight Rises Batman: The Killing Joke Batman: Mask of the Phantasm Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice Bounty Hunters Cabin in the Woods Captain America: Civil War Captain America: The First Avenger Captain America: The Winter Soldier Christmas Eve The Clapper Clash of the Titans (1981) Clint Eastwood 11-pack Special The Condemned 2 Countdown Creed I & II Deck the Halls Detroit Rock City Die Hard Dredd The Eliminators The Equalizer Dirty Work Faster Fast and Furious I-VIII Field of Dreams Fight Club The Fighter For Love of the Game Good Will Hunting Gravity Grunt: The Wrestling Movie Guardians of the Galaxy Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2 Hell Comes to Frogtown Hercules: Reborn Hitman I Like to Hurt People Indiana Jones 1-4 Ink The Interrogation Interstellar Jay and Silent Bob Reboot Jobs Joy Ride 1-3 Last Action Hero Major League Man of Steel Man on the Moon Man vs Snake Marine 3-6 Merry Friggin Christmas Metallica: Some Kind of Monster Mortal Kombat Mortal Kombat Legends: Scorpions Revenge National Treasure National Treasure: Book of Secrets Nintendo Quest Not for Resale Payback (Director’s Cut) Pulp Fiction The Punisher (1989) The Ref The Replacements Reservoir Dogs Rocky I-VIII Running Films Part 1 Running Films Part 2 San Andreas ScoobyDoo Wrestlemania Mystery Scott Pilgrim vs the World The Secret Life of Walter Mitty Shoot em Up Slacker Skyscraper Small Town Santa Steve Jobs Source Code Star Trek I-XIII Sully Take Me Home Tonight TMNT The Tooth Fairy 1 & 2 UHF Veronica Mars Vision Quest The War Wild The Wizard Wonder Woman The Wrestler (2008) X-Men: Apocalypse X-Men: Days of Future Past

[taste-in-music]

taste-in-music’s Year End Wrap-Up

Hello everybody! We’ve finally reached the end of 2020. While I’m glad to leave this miserable year behind, one of things that undeniably got me through it was the vast amount of awesome music we got. In past years I’ve made favorite album and EP lists, but this time around I’m going to tackle them all in one go, giving reviews on the projects that had some significances to me over the course of the year. I’m going to make a post for my favorite songs too, so keep an eye out for that in coming days. Now, without further ado, let’s get started, shall we?

folklore by Taylor Swift: This was an incredible year of growth for Taylor Swift. As much as I’ve enjoyed her past music, the way she constantly felt the need to address what people thought of her always irked me, (though after watching her documentary, I do understand why she did it.) It wasn’t Taylor Swift the public persona that was most interesting, I thought. It was Taylor Swift the artist, the songwriter, the storyteller. What I wanted was an album focused on that. This year, I got one, (well... more on that later,) and it’s my favorite project she’s ever done. The tales Swift spins on folklore span across love triangles, heiresses, and battlefields, and she nails each and every one. While the chilly indie-folk influence from the likes of Aaron Dessner and Justin Vernon is prominent, Swift’s warmth and charisma always cuts through the fog like a beam of sunlight. So yeah, this is my undeniable album of the year.

Fetch The Bolt Cutters by Fiona Apple: I only started listening to Fiona Apple last year and had thoroughly enjoyed her music, but this album cemented her as one of my favorite songwriters and performers of all time. Everything about Fetch The Bolt Cutters is so idiosyncratic yet fits together in just the right way, like watching an entire house being dropped from the sky and falling perfectly into place. It is a testament to the creative process, emotional honesty, and breaking free from all the cages you may find yourself in, whether they be societal, personal, or those of your own making. And in a year that was so isolating, it felt like Apple was whispering everything I needed to hear right into my ear, just when I needed it. In short, my boltcutters have been motherfucking fetched. 

Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers: When Punisher was announced, I had no clue how Phoebe Bridgers would match the quality of Stranger In The Alps. Upon first listen, I wasn’t sure she had. By the fifteenth time I was listening to this album and every lyric was hitting like Cupid’s arrow to the jugular, I knew she’d surpassed it. Punisher presents a sonic scope that both comforts and crushes all at once, like with the upbeat yet mournful horns on “Kyoto” or the cathartic swell on standout “I Know The End.” In my opinion, Bridgers is one of the greatest songwriters of our generation in the making, and I can’t wait to see what the future brings for her. She may know the end, but she’s far from it. 

SAWAYAMA by Rina Sawayama: This is the album I see becoming a new shorthand for the true potential of pop excellence, a cult hit that never got its time to shine but is beloved by pop music geeks to the ends of the earth, like EMOTION by Carly Rae Jepsen. SAWAYAMA so effortlessly blends diverse genres and influences like disco, nu metal, and arena rock, and it yet it remains cohesive due to Rina Sawayama’s sheer strength as a performer. She deserves a spot on the pop girlie hierarchy, and one near the top. 

Future Nostalgia by Dua Lipa: I really enjoyed Dua Lipa’s debut album, but even I didn’t expect her to come through with such a fully realized, consistent, downright fantastic follow up. Future Nostalgia is a pop album that feels studied, like Lipa did her research of pop’s past as she made it. The result is an album that synthesizes several different sounds under her vision, one that is always trained ahead, and it simply slaps. In a perfect world, nearly every song on this album got spun off into a hit single. 

evermore by Taylor Swift: 2020 was already my year of listening to Taylor Swift, (I went through her whole discography, cultivated a favorites playlist, and at the end of the year I was in the top 2% of her yearly Spotify listeners.) evermore was a lovely cherry to top it all off. While folklore enchanted me with its stories, evermore captivated me with its melodies. I haven’t been able to get snippets of this album out. of. my. head. for weeks now. It’s a bit less consistent than it’s older sister, (and likely to live in its shadow,) but there is still so much to love. 

I’m Allergic to Dogs! by Remi Wolf: This EP is so much goddamn fun. It’s a blend of many different sounds, indie pop, electronic, maybe hip hop, I think reggae at points? It’s such a colorful, textured, quirky listen bristling with energy and undeniable hooks. “Woo!” conquered my Summer, and months later the bridge of “Photo ID” conquered TikTok. Keep your eye out for Remi Wolf in the coming year, she’s going to make a big splash. 

Good At Being Young by Charli Adams: Good At Being Young was the first EP this year that I could not get enough of. It drifts through dreamy indie-pop sounds, with melancholic guitars and cloudy synths, and Adams has a deep vocal timbre that delivers tales of adolescent tribulations with just the right amount of wistfulness. Overall, it builds the perfect soundscape for a late-night drive.

Cape God by Allie X: Allie X has been keeping us FED with content. It seems like only yesterday that Super Sunset came out, and yet her output remains impressively consistent. This album has impressive highs, some lower moments, but the danceability, duets, and enticing darkness under its shiny pop veneer make it a record you won’t want to skip. 

La vita nuova by Christine and The Queens: Perhaps the biggest flex of 2020 was Christine and The Queens dropping a fantastic EP and accompanying short film right out of the gate. The grooves on this are infectious, wiry, and air-tight, (the Caroline Polachek feature was another added bonus,) but that doesn’t mean there isn’t plenty of emotional weight too. 

Lighter by Donna Missal: This was one of my most anticipated albums of the year, and it’s hard to determine whether it disappointed or not. I think the only thing holding Lighter back is that This Time was such a formative album for me, (my favorite of 2018, to the uninitiated.) In fact, this album flows way better than This Time, more cohesive with its storytelling and more consistent in folk-rock sound. And, of course, Donna Missal’s vocals stun on both the bangers and the ballads. 

SURF by BLACKSTARKIDS: There was no record this year that was more instantly likeable than this one. The blend of low-fi indie pop and hip hop makes for a whirlwind of sunny fun and youthful malaise that would make the perfect soundtrack for a road trip to the beach. Standouts include the opening track “SOUNDS LIKE FUN,” the chill “WIGS,” and blissful title track “MUSIC TO SURF TO.”

The Baby by Samia: I’ve had my eye on Samia since “Milk” dropped years ago. Seeing her live sparked my belief that she was an indie darling in the making, and The Baby confirmed that she definitely was. The lyrics on this album mix quiet contemplation with just enough sardonic wit and raw emotion throughout a varied selection of sunny rock bops and gut wrenching ballads. If you enjoyed Punisher, then I can’t recommend this enough.

Season 2 by Nasty Cherry: Nasty Cherry is a group that I will not stop rooting for. Their EP from last year showed their potential for nailing monster hooks, but this sophomore effort shows just how versatile they can be. This EP covers everything from Dylan Brady produced hyperpop to early-2000s reminiscent pop rock to emotional balladry, and they pull it all off flawlessly. 

A Little Rhythm and a Wicked Feeling by Magdalena Bay: This album became a fast favorite way late in the year, there is such a sweetness to Magdalena Bay’s music that makes it stick in your brain like a piece of blue raspberry bubblegum. This EP is spacey, catchy, and filled with electronic synthpop mastery, with countless catchy hooks that’ll make you feel like drifting and dancing all at once.

Miss Anthropocene by Grimes: The bubblegum bombast of Art Angels fully redefined my taste in pop years ago, so I was fascinated to see how Grimes would follow it up. On Miss Anthropocene, she leans into darker, more industrial textures, but also anchors it back to Earth with acoustic touches and some of her most introspective lyrics to date. Grimes painted a version of a world on the brink of disaster on this album, a picture that was hypnotically beautiful. And in a year where the word was a certified disaster, that was strangely comforting.

Plastic Hearts by Miley Cyrus: I’ve been wanting Miley to go rock for so goddamn long, Plastic Hearts was bound to make this list by pure validation alone. But what can I say? This breed of glossy 80s rock suits Cyrus’s rougher voice so well! I hope she stays in this lane a bit longer, but as we know, she’s one of pop’s most chameleonic figures. Only time will tell. 

Where Does The Devil Hide by Zella Day: I have been patiently awaiting new Zella Day music ever since getting hooked on Kicker back in 2017, so this was one of my most anticipated releases of the year. This EP sounds nothing like Kicker, and I couldn’t be happier. It shows Day leaning even more into her influences from the past, (the 60s/70s vibes are intense with this one,) but also breathing a refreshing new life into them. 

SOUL LADY by Yukika: When I imagine the ideal of pop music, what it would sound like in a perfect world, this is what it sounds like. SOUL LADY is full of pristine, glossy production and catchy hooks that feel like they’ve come down from the clouds. I’ll admit that I can have trouble forming a connection with music when I don’t understand the lyrics, (it’s something I’m working on,) but this album cleared that hurdle with ease. If you’re curious about city pop or K-pop this is a great place to start. 

Heaven Is Without You by Love You Later: Give me lush pop production and heartbroken lyrics finished off with a heaping helping of nostalgia and I’ll eat it up with a spoon. Love You Later has been feeding my addiction to this genre for years, and this latest helping is particularly sweet. 

IN A DREAM by Troye Sivan: Troye Sivan has always supplied the bops, but it was about time that he started experimenting with his sound a little bit more. This EP offers some harder-hitting electronic textures, but also the addictive hooks that’ll keep you coming back for more.

Ungodly Hour by Chloe X Halle: These women are so TALENTED! If there is any word I’d use to describe this album it would be “effortless,” the harmonies, grooves, and chemistry between Chloe and Halle feels so natural and free-flowing. Charisma just rolls off of them in droves, I see full-blown stardom and several Grammys in their future.

Watching You by Robinson: This EP was one of the first on this list to arrive this year, and it still hits months later. Robinson’s confessional lyrics work wonders over the buoyant pop grooves, and “Don’t Say” remains one of the best pop songs of recent years. 

Manic by Halsey: I respect Halsey for dipping her toes into a myriad of different genres, (synth pop, rock, hip hop, and acoustic balladry,) but it does make for a jumbled listening experience. Still, I appreciate that this album features some of Halsey’s strongest tracks and writing to date, offering greater experimentation and emotional imtimacy than album’s past. 

We Don’t Stop by Aly & AJ: Should this count? It’s more a compilation of their past EP and singles... I don’t care, I’m counting it because there’s some new stuff too. This is an excellent display of Aly & AJ’s pop prowess in recent years, the hooks, vocal chemistry, and shimmery production are undeniable. 

Under My Influence by The Aces: The Aces returned in 2020 with a more laid-back, groovier record than their debut, exploring a wider variety of sounds. They’re as magnetic and likeable a group as ever, each member giving it their all, but I think I’ll return to the debut more often. 

Strangers/Lovers by Dagny: I’ve been anticipating a longer Dagny project, as she’s been drip-feeding us singles for a while now. This was a lot of fun, with Dagny pairing her upbeat earnestness with stories of romantic tribulation. While the hooks aren’t as memorable as her past offerings, there is still so much to enjoy. Lead single “Come Over” and “Let Me Cry” are my favorites.

DUALITY by Tatiana Hazel: I came across this via recommendation on Tik Tok and it’s a solid pop record! The music is swooning, synthy, and tinged with disco and Latin influence. The record doesn’t waste a second of its runtime, clocking in at less than half an hour and grooving the whole time.

After Hours by The Weeknd: The sonic palette of After Hours is so engaging, a neon-drenched blend of synthwave, electropop, and R&B. I’ve always felt lukewarm on The Weeknd’s musical persona of brooding, villainous party monster, so the strongest moments on this album tend to be when he subverts that in some way. Still, in full, this album is an undeniable force of smash hits, stadium-shaking ballads, and cinematic flair. I can’t wait for his Super Bowl performance. 

Petrol Bloom by LAUREL: It’s no secret that this year was chock-full of 80s revival albums (there’s what, five others on this list?) LAUREL wasn’t an artist I was expecting to go in that direction after the brooding folk pop of her debut album, but her deeper timbre works great alongside the synthy soundscapes. 

positions by Ariana Grande: I’ve just come to expect that nearly all of Ariana Grande’s albums are going to be growers to me. My first listen to positions was underwhelming, but the songs have grown on me more and more. This album feels like being let in on a giggly, fun slumber party with Grande and her friends. I wouldn’t call this her strongest album by far, and while I tend to prefer when she favors the more powerful parts of her range, (and her enunciations could still use some work,) there is a lot of good material here. 

THE ALBUM by BLACKPINK: We may just have to stan. I checked this out after watching their Netflix documentary, and while this breed of cacophonous, in-your-face electropop isn’t something I can listen to all the time, the hooks and charisma are undeniable. It certainly makes me feel like a bad bitch whenever I’m working out. 

Kid Krow by Conan Gray: Conan Gray burst onto my radar offering dreamy tracks rich with teen malaise and suburban restlessness, and a good amount of that initial appeal carries over onto this album. Kid Krow has both a larger instrumental scope and more stripped-back moments. In the end, it still feels like Gray is finding his voice as an artist, but he's giving up great bops to jam out to as he does.

Petals For Armor by Hayley Williams: Hayley Williams is one of my favorite vocalists, so seeing her venture out for a solo project was exciting. This album offers a mixed bag of danceable jams, emotive moments that showcase Williams’s powerful voice, and a few skips. But overall it showcases Williams’s strength as a performer as she tackles her past with vulnerability and versatility.

Apart by LÉON: Oh, man. This one was kind of disappointing. For context, LÉON’s self-titled debut was my favorite album of last year. This follow-up is by no means bad, but every song on her first album was instantly memorable. This one, not so much. LÉON’s vocals are beautiful, and there are some stand-out tracks, but I don’t see myself returning to this nearly as much. 

Blush by Maya Hawke: Maya Hawke’s Blush was to my 2020 what Tōth’s Practice Magic and Seek Professional Help When Necessary was to my 2019, (and that makes sense, as they’ve collaborated in the past.) This album is so blissful and nonchalant, and Maya Hawke has a gentle, soothing voice that feels wise beyond her years. While the writing isn’t as hard-hitting as, say, the Phoebe Bridgers album, sometimes I just want to listen to something that could rock me off into a dream world. If you like folksy, down-to-earth ballads, you’ve got a solid collection of them right here. 

Dedicated Side B by Carly Rae Jepsen: Of course Queen Carly would pull through with B-sides for Dedicated, did we expect anything less? Jepsen’s brand of controlled yet carefree shimmery poptimism drenched in 80s nostalgia that never fails to put me in a good mood. This album has some lusher, more tropical instrumentation than Dedicated proper, but works great alongside it.

Missing Person by Kelsy Karter: To the Plastic Hearts fans out there, your homework now is to give this record a listen. This rock album presents pop hooks, but a lot of reckless rock fun too. Kelsy Karter has so much irresistible swagger and carefree spirit as a performer, speeding through the emotional highs and lows like she’s burning rubber in a cherry red Cadillac. 

how i’m feeling now by Charli XCX: I’ll admit, this album was a bit abrasive to me on first listen. But tracks like “anthems” and “forever” made me return, and it’s a huge grower. If you listen closely, you’ll find the sugary-sweet hooks and relatable sentiments nestled deep in the crunchy hyperpop textures, begging to be discovered and eventually loved. 

Jaguar by Victoria Monét: If you enjoyed positions, then check out the debut from one of that album’s most prominent co-writers. Jaguar’s concise collection of silky R&B slow-burners show that Victoria Monet’s is a superstar in her own right. 

Some great albums I listened to that didn’t come out this year: Blue by Joni Mitchell, BLACKPINK IN YOUR AREA by BLACKPINK, I Need to Start a Garden by Haley Heynderickx, Plastic Beach by Gorillaz, Out in the Storm by Waxahatchee, 7 by Beach House, Dummy by Portishead, Lovers Fevers by Babygirl, and Red by Taylor Swift. 

Whether you liked, reblogged, or commented on a post, sent me an ask, or interacted with this blog in any way, thank you so much for all the support throughout the year! I can’t express how much I appreciate it. 

What were your favorite albums from this year? Did I miss anything? Send me an ask and let me know. I’ll tell you my thoughts, or put it on my to-listen-to list if I haven’t heard it. 

Here’s to 2021! May it clear the extremely low bar set by this year. 

[mwolf0epsilon]

For the Post Studio AU, what was the hardest part of escaping the studio? For everyone? Like, recovery wise, what's the hardest part for the inky Joey Drew Studios crew?

Oof, where to start with this one... I'm gonna set a few exceptions aside that didn't end up in the Cycle but that were still affected by the studio's descent into madness.

Henry Stein - Being a war veteran Henry was already dealing with PTSD and his old injuries, so being stuck in the studio for five long years repeating the same thing over and over, reopened a few psychological wounds he was working through. Coping with double the survivor's guilt isn't easy, especially when he lays awake at night wondering if he could have stopped Joey if he'd just stayed, but Henry is a stubborn son of a gun. He finds ways to march on and does his best to help everyone else.

Sammy Lawrence - The sacrificial cult murders are hard for him to forgive himself for. He's resentful of his own shattered mind, and is stuck in his own personal loop of being unsure of who he is. Surely he's not Sammy Lawrence anymore, nor does he fit the bill of Prophet. When he ends up spitting up the ink that forms Andy (aka Wanderer/Wandering Sin Bendy) he also ends up with a new hurdle to deal with, which is this mischievous cartoon that looks like a character he absolutely loathes, but who is connected to him in a way he might dare say is more like a parent-child relationship than god-subject. Needless to say Sammy needs time and a little bit of affection to bring down the self-loathing walls he's slowly built up. Once he's learned to reach out to others for help instead of being a prideful mule, he'll finally be able to start mending himself.

Jack Fain - He honestly believed he'd never see his husband again, and that nearly broke him. Then when Henry and Linda managed to contact him, Jack was instead afraid that he'd be rejected because he wasn't human anymore. Jack's insecurities made it hard for him to heal and work his way up back into a semblance of humanity, after all who'd ever be able to love a lump of ink that smells like your bathroom plumbing? Thankfully he was wrong and his husband was more than willing to welcome him back into his life. They have 20 years worth of grief and longing to work through.

Susie Campbell - It takes a while for Susie to forgive herself for what Alice had done in the studio (what she'd allowed her to do). But unlike many of the others she can't afford to sit still. As one of the more humanoid survivors she is tasked with helping Allison with groceries and, as such, is confronted with 20 years worth of change. Once she has time for herself she spends it in introspective silence or straight up just writes about it. She ends up uncovering a talent for literature and becomes a self-made successful "fiction" author. Her specialty? Sci-fi horror.

Norman Polk - Norman's life is a living hell even as he is rescued. He's lucid most of the time but (if provoked) he can easily switch back to being a feral mess. The silence is also suffocating to him, so he gets incredibly antsy if there isn't much happening. Combating his wanderlust is difficult so he coped by walking in the woods, often getting lost unless he's accompanied (which is a rule Henry immediately sets up). The most he does at first is to sleep all day and walk all night. Once he gains more of his self-control however, things begin to look up for him. It helps to have an emotional support dog that can keep up with him, as well as having people in his life that treat him like a person still. His little cartoon "child" also brings out the more tender side of his less lucid state of mind.

Allison Pendle - Like Susie she has little time to sit around and wallow. She has many responsibilities and as such is always busy. The only time she has to think and let herself cry is when she's in bed. Thankfully Tom is there for her, even if he can't talk anymore. Being held is enough for her though.

Thomas Connors - At first he's furious at being stuck as a mute cartoon wolf. He feels useless being unable to get a job and help provide for the cabin, and sitting around twiddling his thumbs was never something he liked doing. The only way he has to cope is helping Lacie figure out how to sort out Bertrum's situation, try to find a way to fix Norman's speaker and hearing, as well as keeping an eye on everyone when Allison and Susie leave to go into town. Running outside like an unbound dog alongside Buddy also helps. Freedom and exercise go well together in keeping him nice and active.

Shawn Flynn - He is incredibly frustrated about his size and lack of speech. He used to be a very loud and boisterous man, so being rendered a giant mute unable to convey his thoughts in a meaningful (albeit crude) manner makes him feel a bit isolated. His size also makes it difficult for him to get back into toy-making, but he'll be damned if he doesn't have at least one thing to do with his hands. Most of the time he spends hanging out with Grant who needs a little bit of supervision. He hopes his company helps the depressed mess his dearest friend has become.

Grant Cohen - There's a lot going on in his head, so most days are spent laying around just sleeping. He has very little motivation to do anything, and mostly only trusts Edvard (the Edgar clone that has a piece of his soul) and Shawn. His best days are spent reading or even listening to the radio. That's enough proof that he's unwell but at least coping in his own way. His is very slow progress, but still progress.

Buddy Lewek - He misses his family dearly, and it was hard having to accept he's never going to be a productive member of society, much less see the changes of a progressing civilization. Still Buddy is young. He finds things to busy himself with, enjoys being able to live free and without fear, and still practices his drawing with great gusto (even if he never quite gets Bendy's head right). He won't admit it but running wild like a rowdy pup is actually quite nice. He illustrates Susie's novels.

Abby Lambert - She was in very bad shape like Grant, depressed and suicidal, but was lucky enough to be reunited with her family early on. The occasional letter she sends shows she's doing well and getting better each time a new letter arrives. She feels a little bad that not everyone is as fortunate as her to have the support of their loved ones... Some don't have families to return to at all and that just doesn't sit right with her.

Bertrum Piedmont - Hates life a little less with each attempt Lacie makes at improving his living conditions. Being a stationary amusement park ride takes a toll on one's sanity, so it's normal that Bertrum is incredibly antisocial at first. Fortunately he's slowly warmed up to everyone as time goes on, and the one thing that bothers him is being unable to show his appreciation for the stubborn idiots who keep trying to help him. Inadequacy is a bitch to someone who's used to giving his all.

Lacie Benton - She's a living animatronic and she hates it, but now that she's not immobilized and that Tom built her a new arm, she can actually move on with her life and try to sort the real issues. Starting with Bertrum and Norman who definitely need a bit of refurbishing to live a better life. Surprisingly Bertrum is easier to sort out than Norman, who gets just a little too upset when she touches his speaker or wires...

Emma LaMonte - Like Jack and Abby she got lucky enough to go back to her family. Being as determined as she is, she also managed to regain her human form pretty quickly. Her perfectionist nature may have made her difficult most of the time, but now it's certainly worked in her favor. The one thing that she can't cope with is the memory of once having no legs to speak of... It chills her, the thought she'd never be able to dance again.

The Ink Demon - Binky needs to learn how to people and that in itself is already hard. Learning to cope with the monstrous things he did to everyone else is a whole new can of worms... Luckily the toons seem to like him a lot. It helps to not be cast aside. Henry also makes an effort to teach him as best he can, and show him the affection and understanding that Joey never did.

-

Joey Drew - Fled the country once he realized Henry broke the cycle. Can't deal with the fact he was wrong and that his life's work amounted to nothing, so he avoids dealing with it altogether. He's a wanted man, not by the law but by Henry's own righteous fury and desire for justice, as well as Linda's protective rage over her husband.

Wally Franks - He's the one that got away, so he carries a lot of survivor's guilt on his shoulders. Wishes he'd been able to help in the past, so once Henry contacts him for help finding everyone's families he jumps at the opportunity to do right by his old coworkers. He's the one who gets Norman a dog that wouldn't just flee from him, and he'll donate funds to keep the cabin afloat whenever things aren't doing so good. He visits a lot too.

Dot - She couldn't believe that the people she was sure as hell were dead actually survived Drew's madhouse of a studio. She had to pinch herself when she reunited with them however, because she wasn't expecting... Well... This... She feels responsible for Buddy being stuck as he is because she couldn't save him and instead saved herself. She's taken it upon herself to locate Joey and expose his monstrous actions.

Linda Stein - Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. This lady was not scorned by her husband, but she sure has a bone to pick with Mr. Drew. Luckily for her, Henry feels just as vindictive as she when it comes to Joey's obscene cruelty. Linda does her best to help everyone at the cabin, and gives her all in helping her husband through listening to the things he dare not tell his therapist... Needless to say she's heartbroken that her beloved had to go through two separate hells only to be expected to move on once he got out...

[angstmongertina]

hidden meanings

Mishka answered an ask about what A meant when they said that they aren’t “good at this sort of thing” and it fucking destroyed me so here we are, like a week and some 2.6k words later. (I’m sorry I’m a slow writer lol.)

Guys, I love Adam so goddamn much.

Most of the dialogue is Mishka’s. I’m just expanding out the scene with more introspection than is entirely healthy lol.

AO3 Link

Adam is not, by nature, a man of change.

Of course, living through nine centuries has done something to temper his obstinacy, and he knows that he is at least less technology-adverse than Nate, but he is also fully aware of the fact that that comparison means hardly anything. Even so, in his long life, he has also found it far easier to simply focus on the present and his duties to the Agency, the organization that, despite its own changes, has remained one of the closest things to a constant in the rapidly evolving world around him.

This world that he does not truly belong in, but that he also cannot leave, that he has simply been existing in for nearly a millennium.

Still, he has long since learned that it is easier, that it is better, to concentrate on the task at hand, to do his job without unnecessary frills and complications. He only has need of himself, his assignment, and his team, those very select few he has come to work with and trust. Those others who have proven themselves, who are also frozen in time, permanently caught in the eddies of the steady stream of life. Who, like him, have secrets and memories that lay guarded, shrouded in the past, out of sight and out of mind.

At least, that has all been the case until Unit Bravo found themselves assigned to Wayhaven and to her.

If anyone had told him, a scant few months earlier, that a human woman, still so young and inexperienced, the daughter of his unit’s handler, would have brought so much change to all of their lives, he would have called them crazy. And yet…

He glances down to his side.

It is a strange thing. At a first pass, the figure walking beside him, taking at least two steps for every one of his, is not one he would have expected to make such an impact. While he has to admit that Agent Langford herself is not of any impressive physical stature, she has an elegance, a commanding presence, that has always served her well, both on the field and behind a desk. Her daughter, on the other hand, manages to be of even smaller frame, not even reaching his shoulder in height, and so slender that she looks as though a strong wind might be able to knock her off her feet. Despite the potential dangers of their mission, her dark hair hangs in messy waves down her back, long and unbound and utterly impractical for combat. All in all, she is, at least at first glance, utterly ordinary, looking for all the world like another resident of Wayhaven that has shown up to this accursed carnival. Except…

Except, in spite of the crowds, the noise and the sights and the chaos, of everything that he loathes, everything that should be overwhelming to his senses, even in the best of times, all of it pales in comparison to her.

As if sensing his thoughts, or at least his attention, she tilts her head up, raising an eyebrow, and his chest tightens at the inquisitive look in the stormy grey eyes that lift to meet his, at the way his traitorous hand twitches in its attempt to reach out for her. Her lips part, all soft curves compared to the bright sharpness of her gaze, and he only realizes when she presses them together, a heaviness resting in their corners, that she has asked him a question.

One that he cannot for the life of him even begin to recall.

Instead, he gives his usual noncommittal grunt, at once a deflection and a response, one that has always served him well. Except this time, his typical antagonism does not appear to hide his preoccupation; for a split second, something flashes across her face, disappearing so quickly that even he, with his supernatural speed, cannot identify it. Its swift departure does not, however, prevent it from settling poorly in his stomach, a sudden storm of unease that has him looking down, unable to meet her eyes and the depths of what he might find there.

He cannot help but be thankful that it is only a few steps further to the carousel, a bright, swirling mixture of colors and music that seems to draw the attention of everyone in range. Almost as if it has been expecting them, the ride slows as they approach, and he does not fail to notice the way Surina’s face brightens as she sets foot onto the steps, the first hint of true enthusiasm he has seen from her since their disagreement in the car.

The animation in her features, highlighted by the twinkling lights of the ride, is nearly enough to make him stumble as he follows her. Climbing up with more difficulty than he cares to admit, he stiffens, clearing his throat before crossing his arms over his chest.

Given her preoccupation, he is almost surprised when it cuts through her reverie, but somehow, it does and in spite of the bustle of others climbing on around them and the general din of the park, her quiet intake of breath echoes in his mind. She turns from inspecting one of the fiberglass creatures to give him another questioning look, but this time, he is prepared for her keen gaze and instead, he glances about them, eyes narrowed. “I don’t think both of us should be seated for this ride. One of us should stay standing to cover us in case of issues.”

The words come out stilted, heavy against her excitement, and part of him finds himself regretting them when they seem to settle over her shoulders, pressing down against the cheer that had lifted them only moments earlier. For a second, he wonders if she will argue, contemplates apologizing, but she only exhales in a long breath before giving a nod, though a hint of a smirk replaces the faint frown on her face, one that is usually enough to put him on his guard, except…

Except, this time, those grey eyes lighten to a softer blue, once again dancing with her amusement, and he can feel his chest tighten in response, enough so that he almost, almost, misses her next statement.

“All right. You sit and I’ll stand.”

It is a challenge and he knows it. Her face is alight with the force of her energy, her eyebrow quirked teasingly with a hand braced on her hip. Despite his best efforts, his breath catches in his throat as the corner of her mouth curls into a smirk, and he has to actively force himself to look away, running a hand through his hair to resist the urge to wipe that cocky smile off of her face, to taste the insolence on her lips…

“Fine.���

Blindly, he reaches for the nearest creature, climbing into the fiberglass saddle before the form of his chosen steed registers to him. It isn’t until she steps closer, her grin growing wider, that the curved neck and pale white wings filter into his consciousness, and he finds himself resisting the urge to growl.

“Seems appropriate.” She chuckles, apparently too preoccupied with running a hand over the bright orange beak to notice the way he stiffens at her words, his heart pounding so loudly that it’s a small wonder everyone on the ride doesn’t notice, but, oddly, instead of mocking, her gaze is playful, a soft invitation. “You know, the whole bad-tempered part?”

She takes another step closer and he says nothing, cannot begin to form a coherent sentence in lieu of gritting his teeth as her arm brushes against his, a warmth that he can feel even through his coat, and he resists the urge to flinch.

Judging from the way she glances away, her expression falling yet again, he is not as subtle as he hopes.

He is not sure if it is perfect or horrendous timing that the ride begins then and she rocks onto her heels, her hand wrapping around the pole just under his, so close that he can feel the heat from it, can almost feel the fluttering of her heartbeat, soft and rhythmical under the cheerfully chiming music, interwoven with laughter and conversation from the other patrons. Steady and intoxicating.

He swallows once, hard, and looks away.

“Maybe we should talk… or something?” Her voice is quiet, enough so that he is certain that anyone without supernatural hearing would not have been able to hear it, and his eyebrows climb at the show of hesitance from his normally combative companion. “Help blend in with everyone else.”

In spite of his better judgment, he lets his eyes drift back over the crowds to where she stands at his side, her face tilted slightly to meet his gaze, and finds his thoughts scattering under the weight of that soft grey. “Talk?” The word comes out slightly strangled and he hastily clears his throat. “Talk of what?”

A slim shoulder rises in a shrug. “Anything, I suppose. We just stand out because we’re so silent.”

“We’re on a job. Chatting isn’t a priority.”

The reply falls out of his mouth without thinking, with the reflexes born from centuries of sidestepping and ignoring attempts at unnecessary conversations and sentiments, of focusing on his missions for the Agency, of maintaining his distance from this world that he does not quite belong in. It is the simple truth, the best, safest approach for everyone involved. And yet…

And yet the flicker of emotion in her eyes before her face smooths out stings, a keen ache in his chest that somehow hurts far more than any amount of anger would have, particularly when she only looks around before leaning closer, her voice dropping to scarcely more than a breath on the evening breeze.

“That was a little loud, Adam. People might overhear.”

The mild censure manages to filter into his consciousness, and he only barely manages to stop himself from flinching at the warning. Their investigation, their mission for the Agency… They are paramount, are the only reason why she is here with him now, playing out this little charade. They must be. Which means…

He turns to meet her gaze once more, taking a deep breath as he catches her eye, now dark and swirling with a myriad of emotions, just out of reach, that he does not dare to try and recognize, that he will not, that he cannot, lose himself in.

Not again. Never again.

Even so, his traitorous heart clenches in his chest, sharp and almost stifling, each pounding heartbeat sending a fresh pang through his entire being. Each breath is constricted, straining against the tightness that binds him, wrapping around his chest until he is drowning in the fierce ocean of his own intense reaction. In wild desperation, he arches his back, focusing on the way his muscles stretch and tighten, on the weight of his coat shifting over his shoulders, on the breath that escapes his lips, warm in the cool evening air. On the space his movement adds between them, the distance that he needs to maintain.

On anything but her.

And still, he can feel those stormy eyes watching him, unwavering, waiting. He can feel his walls cracking under that heavy gaze, feel as it seems to draw the truth from the depths of his soul, and as much as he wants to hold it all back, he cannot. Not to her.

“I’m not good at…” At maintaining appearances around her, at opening up to other people, or even himself. At vulnerability… “At this kind of thing.”

For a moment, her expression softens, and he stiffens ever so slightly at the gentleness in her gaze, at the way she leans even closer, apprehension and hope waging war in equal measure in his mind. “You don’t have to be,” she says, her voice so soft that he can scarcely hear it over the thundering of his heart. “You just have to try.”

Her words echo in his mind, quiet and patient and somehow they shake him more than  anything she has said to him before, threatening to peel back each of his painstakingly constructed layers until he is exposed, raw and bare and…

Crimson flowing in thick rivulets from the gashes in her neck, staining the concrete floor. Soft grey eyes fluttering closed over a shaky smile. Fear and desperation drowning out every rational thought, every ounce of sense in his mind—

He swallows hard.

…And dangerous.

This world is, he is, a threat to her, one he cannot let himself expose her to, no matter how desperately part of him wants to. Not if he brings naught but pain and destruction to her, as he inevitably will.

He has learned that much, at least.

His free hand clenched in an effort to not break the bar he still holds, he takes a deep breath against that persistent tightness in his chest, letting it out in a long sigh. “You are…” The ride separates them gradually, irrevocably, and he cannot be sure if it is relief or disappointment that floods his system, that has the corners of his mouth relaxing. Just as he cannot be sure whether it is fear or anticipation that quickens his heart as he returns once more to meet her gaze, still with that strange, unfathomable patience. As he bites his tongue, holding back the words he longs to say, the truths he cannot tell. “Difficult to talk to,” he finishes quietly but the words feel hollow in his mouth and he cannot hide from the way she lets out the breath she was holding, from the disappointment that streaks across her face, that finds the cracks in his already weakened defenses and cuts, deep and piercing.

“Why?”

The ride has shifted until he is level with her once more and, this close, he can feel the puff of her breath against his skin in the cool evening air, the gentle caress drawing his gaze until all he can see is the soft curve of her lips, parted and frozen, waiting. He can feel the heat of her hand curled around the pole, just below his, skin fluttering with the rapid beating of her heart, so exposed and fragile. He can feel the shape of her name in his mouth, his lips forming around each syllable, the sounds hanging heavy in the space between them, careful and hesitant and yet, somehow, right…

A small jerk throws him off balance, sending Surina stumbling a few steps to the side, and he reacts on instinct, sitting upright as she catches her balance, his muscles tensing when he realizes that he has begun to reach out a steadying hand. Her gaze is still on him, dark and inscrutable, slowly, inexorably drawing him into that pool of something deep and overwhelming and he can’t.

With an effort, he wrenches his gaze away, his hand once again tightening into a fist. Their surroundings filter back into his consciousness, the other riders dismounting, the din of their laughter and conversations crashing back over him in waves of noise and sensation. Cold. Shocking.

A reminder.

Clearing his throat, he slides off the swan, the simple action less fluid than he would like to admit, and finds himself tugging at the collar of his coat. Instead, he folds his arms across his chest, sturdy and resolute. Shielding. “We should move on.”

It is nothing more than a simple statement of truth. He knows this. And yet, he cannot quite suppress the disappointment that wells in his chest when she nods, her reply a quiet whisper, and follows him back into the crowd.

[exit-goat]

Between Friends

To say, “you met me at a very strange time in my life,” would be an understatement for Fiona and Charlie. Fiona’s life had come crashing to a halt, and Charlie, well his just got turned upside down. They’re lost, looking for someone to anchor them down, to keep them afloat. Will they help guide one another out of the wreckage or lose even more along the way? Only time will tell.

Chapter 1: Perfect Strangers (x)

Chapter 2: Penny for your Thoughts

CW: tipsy!Charlie, drinking, lingering glances, angst, mentions of cancer, mentions of parental death, mentions of divorce, lingering touch, dialogue heavy, mature language, the very briefest mentions of pussy eating/blowjobs/sex

Word Count: 7k what can I say this chapter kinda got away from me 

AN: this chapter is a doozy, very plot heavy and dialogue heavy. This fic is going to be a sloooow burn so bare with me lol. I really want to establish back story and set the scene first before launching into the NSFW content (there will be smut in this fic, promise) Any and all comments/questions are always appreciated! Let me know if you want to be on the tag list and I’ll happily add you!

***

Charlie turned toward Fiona, the familiar sound of his name being called pulling him out of his introspective daze. He met Fiona's eyes with a confused look.

From this close, Fiona could see each and every freckle scattered across his face. She also noticed the slight signs of ageing. Shallow creases were present at the outer corners of his eyes, across his forehead and around his mouth.

They added to his appearance, made him look more mature and dignified. It was a stark contrast to the fresh-faced image of a young Charlie that stuck out in Fiona's memory.

"Yes, can I help you?"

The deep baritone of Charlie's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. A slight blush crept across her cheeks as her eyes met his. His face was no longer contorted by stress, but there was still an intensity behind his eyes. It sent a shiver up her spine.

"I knew it was you, Charlie. You always did stick out from those around you, huh?"

Fiona joked lightly, seeing if he would work out who was standing in front of him. Growing up in Indiana, she would joke about how Charlie was a beacon in a crowd of people. No matter where he went, he was always at least a head taller than those around him.

Charlie, however, looked more confused than ever. He tilted his head slightly to one side, his eyes skating over Fiona's features.

"I'm sorry, do we know each other? I don't mean to be rude, but-"

"Oh, don't tell me you don't recognize me." Fiona interrupted him, "I know a decade is a long time, but I don't think I've changed that much." She flashed him a knowing grin, then looked at herself in the mirrored wall behind the bar.

She had changed a bit over the years. Living in California, where it was summer all year round, gave her once pale skin a beautiful, healthy glow to it. Her hair had lightened naturally, from dark chestnut mahogany to a lighter auburn colour from the years spent under the sun.

Her facial structure was more poignant. Most of her baby fat had gone away with age, leaving her with a sharp jawline and noticeable cheekbones.

But, besides these little details, Fiona thought she pretty much looked the same. Maybe she was a bit weathered from the stress of life, but she still saw the same young girl from Indiana looking back at her in the mirror.  

She turned her attention back to Charlie, who was looking her over again. His face etched in focus as he studied her, trying to match the face he saw now with ones from his memories.

She was definitely familiar to him. There was something about the way she spoke to him like an old friend. When she smiled wide, a dimple at her chin appeared, causing a crease to form at the end of her laugh line.

Yes, she was definitely familiar to Charlie, but he couldn't quite place where he knew her.

It took him a moment longer, his mind lingering on whatever was bothering him before Fiona approached. But, when his gaze met Fiona's once more, realization washed over his face.

"Fiona Webster." He spoke with disbelief, searching her eyes to make sure he wasn't mistaken.

When Fiona smiled wide at his recollection, Charlie stood from his seat and embraced her in a hug.

That smile brought Charlie right back to his high school days. Memories of lunch breaks spent in the drama room, meeting up in the morning to walk to school, and walking home together flooded Charlie's mind.

His body engulfing her with warmth and familiarity. She reached up and wrapped her arms around Charlie's neck. The smell of his cologne, sandalwood and citrus with a hint of some kind of warm spice (star anise or cardamom maybe??) wafted off his shirt as she let her head rest on his shoulder for a second.

Charlie tightened his grip around Fiona's waist briefly before pulling away. He honestly could not believe that she was here, in this hotel of all places.

When Charlie stood to his full height, Fiona noted that her earlier observations had been spot on. Charlie had filled out his frame. His arms were thicker and more muscular, his shoulders were broader and his chest… it was more substantial, but in all the right ways.

Fiona remembered how boney Charlie used to be, but now, his chest and abdomen had a healthy weight packed on them. To put it frankly, Charlie was huge. He was truly a brick wall of a man.

"You cut your hair…" Charlie said absentmindedly. Fiona was sure he didn't mean to say that out loud.

"A few times since you last saw me, yeah." Fiona chuckled, beaming up at him with a playful smile.

She instinctively tucked the loose strands of hair that fell around her face behind her ears. Charlie let out a nervous laugh before moving to sit back down. Fiona followed and sat down on the stool next to him.

"I just meant that it's shorter than I remember." Charlie felt heat rise to his cheeks as he faced forward. He definitely hadn't meant to say that out loud.

There was a brief silence as the pair took a sip of their drinks. Charlie started fiddling with the label on his beer bottle again, not knowing what to say next.

"I hear congratulations are in order."

Fiona mused, stealing a sideways glance at Charlie. He let out a curious 'hmm?', turning his head to face Fiona.

"Your theatre! I've heard rave reviews about it over the years, Charlie, you're a great success!"

Charlie smiled bashfully, the tops of his cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink at Fiona's kind words. He turned away from her, without a word, and took a swig from his beer.

"Oh, don't be so modest, Barber." Fiona teased, "I know you must be proud of the work you've done, the shows you've directed."

"It's a group effort, really." Charlie shrugged.

Fiona scoffed playfully, shaking her head with a smile playing at her lips. Always so humble, she thought to herself. Charlie was never one to hog the spotlight. He always made sure that everyone felt included and celebrated. She was glad to see that he hadn't changed.

"It is! I wouldn't be where I am today without the amazing work and attitude of the cast and crew." Charlie defended, smiling at Fiona.

He paused, taking another sip from his drink.

"Everyone puts a lot of effort into every production. They do amazing work, really."  

"So what is the great Charlie Barber doing in Los Angeles, hm? Scouting new talent? Opening a new theatre? Expanding your empire?"  

Charle smiled lightly at the goofiness and grandeur of Fiona's questions, but it didn't reach his eyes. That same intensity that Fiona had seen before had returned.

"It's… complicated," Charlie mumbled while signalling to the bartender for another round, "I don't want to bore you with the details."

A quiet lull swept over them, neither of them speaking. They sat together, idly sipping at their drinks. Fiona was trying to find a way to bring up whatever was plaguing Charlie without seeming intrusive or coming across as pushy.

It had been ten years, and Charlie had no reason to divulge his personal life to her. They had been friends for a long time, though, and Fiona couldn't help the concern she felt for him.

After all, they had been with each other during the roughest times of their youth. That would always mean something to Fiona. No amount of time or distance would diminish that.

"How have you been? L.A treating you well?"

Charlie's voice broke the silence causing Fiona's head to turn. She had been so wrapped up in thought that she nearly forgot he was still sitting there.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, L.A has actually turned out to be better than I thought it would be." She smiled fondly, thinking about all the memories she's made in this sunny city.

"And while I'm no star-studded director like yourself -" she teased, nudging Charlie's shoulder with her own, "- life has been kind to me."

"Oh yeah?" Charlie nudged Fiona back, a broad grin on his face. "That's good, I'm glad to hear it."

He looked quite sincere then like he genuinely meant what he said, like the words spoken were not from a place of kind pleasantries but from a place of truth. Fiona mumbled a quiet 'thank you' turning away as she felt a slight blush creep across her cheeks.

"Did you ever go back to school? After you left New York? I remember how devastated you were when you had to leave."

Fiona shifted in her seat. The memory of university and New York made her heart ache. She let out a nervous breath, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"No, I uh, I never continued school over here." She fiddled with the straw in her drink while she spoke, not looking at Charlie.

"It's not that I never wanted to go back to school because I did, and I still do! I just… there was just never a good time to go back, you know?"

Fiona looked over to Charlie, who nodded in agreement, before continuing.

"And between taking care of my mum and work, and just life in general, I wouldn't have been able to even find the time to attend classes, study and do homework and…"

Fiona trailed off, realizing that she had started rambling. Whenever school and university was brought up, Fiona had a tendency to get defensive.

It probably stemmed from her guilt of having to leave school in the first place. She really had no reason, though, to get defensive. She left school for admiral reason, to fulfill her familial duty.

She was so excited. Attending NYU had always been a dream of hers, one she and Charlie talked in-depth about during their high school days. Fiona loved New York, loved the bustling crowds and the sounds of heavy traffic.

She graduated high school a year after Charlie did. When she finally got to the city, Charlie was her personal tour guide. He took her to all his favourite places around the city.

Her first year of university was everything thing she hoped it would be, and more. She had met some fantastic people and learned so many new things. She quickly fell in love with New York and all it had to offer, but unfortunately, life had other plans for her.

About halfway through her second year of school, Fiona's mum got really sick. With her dad out of the picture, it fell on Fiona to be the one to take care of her mum to make sure she wasn't alone.

Fiona left New York with a heavy heart. All of the possibilities of her future and the beginnings of the life she was building for herself faded quickly in the rearview mirror as she taxied to the airport.

Fiona sighed to herself, stealing a glance at Charlie.

"Hey, I totally get it. Life loves to throw curveballs." He gave her an understanding smile. "How is your mum, by the way?"

Fiona chewed the inside of her bottom lip. She knew this would come up, knew Charlie would ask about her at some point.

While Fiona had made peace with her mum's death during the many rounds of chemotherapy, it was hard to talk about.

"She uh… Actually, she passed away a couple of weeks ago."

Charlie reached over, placing a hand on Fiona's back and soothingly rubbed circles between her shoulder blades.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He spoke softly, then, his gaze turned downward. He hadn't seen Ms. Webster in a long time, something he now wished he could apologize for. He never meant for so much time to pass without reaching out.

"She was always very kind to me, something I'll always be grateful for. Honestly, I don't think I would've made it through high school if it weren't for your mum taking me in, letting me sleep in the guest room when things got bad at home… she was an amazing person, Fiona."

"Yeah, she was." Fiona smiled meekly at Charlie before turning away.

She could feel tears start to form and collect at her eyes' waterline, threatening to spill over. She directed her gaze up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly, willing the tears to go away.

This is not the time or the place she thought to herself, as Charlie continued to trace soft circles across the expanse of her back. Fiona cleared her throat before speaking again.

"Yeah, my mum loved you, considered you to be one of her own. She would always say that she'd just pack up your things one day and steal you away to come live with us."

"That sounds like her." Charlie chuckled while Fiona's face broke out in a grin.

"I think she may have even looked into ways she could adopt you."

The pair giggled some more and continued to reminisce about their shared teenage years. The topic changed to their time in high school, how they would spend lunch breaks in the drama room and the many many misadventures of their science teacher Mrs. Horowitz, who always managed to set something on fire during lab days.

They recounted the many late-night movie marathons they would have whenever Charlie stayed over on weekends. How they would morph into sincere heart to hearts out in the backyard, under the night sky.

Fiona and Charlie quickly fell into a rhythm as their conversation continued on into the late-night hours. There were no more awkward silences or weird disjointed topic changes.

Talking with Charlie felt effortless, Fiona noticed. She hadn't realized how much she missed him before now. Sure, she thought about him in passing from time to time, but her thoughts never dwelled on him or the past for too long.

The drinks continued to flow along with their conversation. Fiona was currently working on her third vodka tonic of the night, and Charlie was halfway through his sixth beer. Fiona was definitely feeling a little buzzed at this point, and she was sure that Charlie was, at the very least, a little tipsy.

You wouldn't know it just by looking at him, but Charlie was a lightweight. He always had been. The sheer size and magnitude of his body would have most people convinced that Charlie could handle himself, but Fiona knew better.

If past experience wasn't enough to be sure of his drunkenness, his demeanour gave his definitely gave it away. During one of Charlie's stories about his son, Henry, he had unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, exposing his white undershirt.

Fiona's musings, and Charlie's story, were interrupted by the sound of Fiona's ringtone.

"Shit, sorry," she mumbled to him, fishing into her pants' back pocket for her phone.

When she pulled it out, she saw the name DANIEL WEBSTER flash at the top. Her brows furrowed, and a huff of air involuntarily escaped from between her lips.

"Do you need to get that?" Charlie inquired, stealing a quick glance over Fiona's shoulder.

"Hmm? Oh, no ", she turned the ringer off and set the phone down on the bar before turning her attention back to Charlie, "it's not important."

"I take it you and Dan still aren't on good terms, huh?"

Fiona scoffed and shrugged her shoulders, "I honestly don't think my brother and I have ever been on good terms."

Charlie's eyebrow quirked up, and he let out an amused hum. There was an alcohol-induced grin playing at his lips as he faced forward to sip his drink.

He silently agreed with Fiona, thinking back to the few times he interacted with Dan. Charlie remembered how, no matter what the situation was or the topic of conversation, Fiona and her brother were always on opposing sides.

It's now, or never Fiona thought to herself, taking in Charlie's appearance.

He looked relaxed for the first time since Fiona had sat down. His elbow rested on the polished wood bar top, and his head was propped up by the palm of his hand.

She'd only have one chance to bring up whatever was troubling her estranged friend, and it had to be now as they both let a comfortable silence sweep over them.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Fiona asked while leaning on the bar, mimicking Charlie's position.

Charlie's eyes flicked toward Fiona, the grin still present on his face. He let out a light chuckle as he replied, "what?"

"I can tell… or at least it seems like something's bugging you." Fiona paused, searching Charlie's features.

"Or at least that something is weighing on your mind. I could tell from the other side of the bar."

Charlie stayed silent, watching Fiona closely. The intensity returned to his eyes, and it was too much to bear. Fiona adverted her gaze to her free hand, as her fingers traced along the ridges and grooves on the bar top.

"Obviously, you don't have to tell me. I mean, we're practically strangers, but -"

"We're not really strangers, though, Fiona. Never were." Charlie interjected, causing Fiona to tear her focus from her fingers' movements to look up at him.

"Right," she said, holding eye contact with him before dropping her gaze back down.

"Well, either way, I guess… I just, I thought that maybe you'd want to talk about it with an unbiased third party, you know? Maybe I could offer some insight, or even just be a pair of ears who'll listen without judgement."  

Fiona shrugged her shoulders, not daring to look up at Charlie. She was worried she stepped over a line, crossed some boundary of Charlie's without realizing.

On the other hand, Charlie was surprised and touched that she wanted to help him, even after all this time. It caught him off guard a little bit, to know that Fiona could still read his body language. It was as if the past ten years had never gone by. As if they hadn't fallen out of touch.

"You're right…," Charlie sighed.

Fiona glanced up at him then, her eyes studying his face. She stayed silent as she leaned off the bar, straightening out her posture, waiting for Charlie to continue.

"Can you keep this just between us?" Charlie knew that is was foolish to ask such a thing. He knew even before the question had left his lips, but he had to ask, just to be safe.

He knew that whatever he told Fiona, she would keep it to her self. She had proven that a thousand times over in the years they had known one another.

"Who am I going to tell?" Fiona teased lightly because, really, who was she going to tell? Her only confidant was her mum, and it wasn't like she and Charlie shared many mutual friends.

Charlie held her gaze; each muscle in his face was set and rigid. The stern look he gave her caused Fiona's smile to drop a little. She gave a curt nod and said,

"Just between us."

Charlie relaxed a little, letting out a deep breath. He sat up a little straighter and ran a hand through his hair.

"Nicole, my wife, is here in L.A for a new project she's working on, and she brought Henry down with her a couple of days ago."

Charlie paused for a second, his fingers absentmindedly twisting his wedding band around his ring finger.

"I got in today, and I thought that we'd have some family time, see Nicole's family who lives down here, and just have a nice mini-vacation before I have to go back to New York."

Fiona nodded her head, listening intently and watching Charlie closely. He was starting to tense up again. His shoulders were pinched up together, and his brow was furrowed as he recounted the events that took place earlier in his day.  

"Anyway, I finally get to the house after being stuck on a plane for five hours. I'm not even in the house for more than 10 minutes when I'm served with fucking divorce papers, by my own sister in law!"

Charlie let out a huff of air, wringing his hands together.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Charlie." Fiona tried to console him, reaching over to rub circles on his back.

The corner's of Charlie's mouth quirked up the tiniest bit at the returned gesture. He gave Fiona a small smile while trying to get his breathing to return back to normal.

He hadn't meant to get so worked up about this, and he conceded that Fiona was right; he did need to talk about it. If he didn't, he would just bottle it all up to fly off the handle at some unsuspecting person later on down the road.

"No, don't be sorry. This has been a long time coming, actually, something we were already in the processes of doing."

Fiona nodded.

"The thing that really gets me is that we both agreed, at the start of all this -" Charlie gestured in the hair with his hands, "- to not get lawyers involved. We agreed that we'd use mediators and figure it out ourselves… peacefully, amicably."

"Mm, divorce can be tricky like that," Fiona spoke softly as she continued to rub circles on Charlie's back at a slow, but steady, pace.

"You say that like you speak from experience." Charlie looked up at Fiona, who offered him a small consoling smile.

Her eyes held a touch of sadness to them, and what Charlie thought to be guilt.

"Were you married?"

The hand on Charlie's back stilled for a moment as Fiona's gaze drifted around the room before meeting Charlie's once more.

"I was, yeah. But, uh, not for very long."

Charlie's eyebrows shot up at her confession, "You were married? Really?"

Fiona nodded her head.

"I thought you always said that you weren't the marrying type."

"I'm not. My marriage proved that." Fiona let out a small chuckle, shaking her head at Charlie.

Her hand left Charlie's back to push her hair back behind her ears.

"How long were you married?"

"Just a year. I couldn't let it go on past that, it wouldn't have been fair."

She cast her eyes downward, settling on studying the stripes on Charlie's button-up instead of looking him in the eye.

"When did you realize…" Charlie trailed off, not knowing how to phrase the question.

Fiona understood, though, what Charlie was getting at. "When did I realize that I didn't want to be married anymore?" She offered.

"Honestly, the moment he proposed, and the moment I said yes, was the moment I realized."

There was a brief pause, and then Fiona continued, "And before you say anything, I tried really hard to make it work. Joseph, Joe, was such a sweet guy. He was always so patient and understanding with me. Not to mention he was a dream when it came to stuff with my mum, and I really did love him. It's just…"

She trailed off, looking up at Charlie again. He was studying her, looking at her so intently and focused. There wasn't any hint of contempt or disgust in his eyes, like she had anticipated, so she continued.

"I never felt like a… like a bride. I didn't get any butterflies when trying on dresses or arranging things like the floral centrepieces or the napkins' colour. I didn't get nervous the night before or when I was walking down the aisle. And I know I shouldn't have gone through with the wedding, let alone stay married for a year."

Fiona sighed, "I just desperately wanted to make it work, for Joe and for me. It's just not who I am, you know?"

Charlie nodded, "You can't force these types of things."

"Anyway, to make a long story short, I told Joe, and he did not take it well. He filed for divorce, and we had a long and lengthy battle over our mutual assets and who gets what. In the end, he got most of it. Which was fine with me because I effectively wasted a whole year of his life. He deserved more anyway."

"Long and lengthy, huh?" Charlie's voice cut through the thick fog of shameful memories that clouded Fiona's mind.

"Yeah, but I'm sure yours won't be like that! Your divorce will probably just fly right by, quick and easy."

Charlie's face broke out in a wide toothy grin. It was just so absurd, describing divorce as 'quick and easy.' He couldn't help the giggles that escaped him.

"Here's hoping," He said, raising his beer bottle to Fiona, who, in turn, raised her glass.

"So, do you have any advice for me? Having been through this yourself."

"I guess I would tell you to try not to escalate things, learn when and what to concede on."

Fiona shrugged her shoulder, "I don't know, just try to remember that regardless of how it plays out and who gets what, that you and Nicole were once in love. Remember that your relationship wasn't always where it is now."

Charlie sat silently for a while, mulling over Fiona's words. While he had heard them many times before, from marriage counsellors, mediators, friends, and family members, it sounded more convincing when Fiona said it.

Maybe it was because she had been through it herself. Or perhaps it was because Fiona had this convincing way about her. She could get anyone to believe that the sky was actually green just by stating it matter-of-factly. Whatever the reason, Charlie made a point to commit her words to memory.

The silence between them was broken by a loud and amused snicker from Fiona.

"God, when did we get so old!" She exclaimed with a shake of her head and a broad smile playing at her lips, "I mean, the last thing I ever thought we'd talk about is divorce, and yet…"

It was just so absurd to Fiona. She was sitting next to one of her oldest friends from high school, talking about something as grown-up as divorce proceedings. She couldn't help the giggles that slipped out of her; the more she thought about it.

Really it was a normal thing that happened to everyone, getting old. Still, she never really thought about Charlie getting older and having older people problems. And she especially didn't imagine this is where she'd be at this point in her life.

At twenty, Fiona never thought that at age thirty-four, she'd be starting her life over again, lost on what to do next, or where to go, a university drop out, and living in California.

From beside her, Charlie let out a deep chuckle as he watched Fiona, her shoulders shaking as she tried to suppress her laughter. Charlie knew precisely what Fiona was getting at. He was no stranger to the existential dread of a life half lived.

Charlie had many late, sleepless nights. Nights where he would toss and turn in bed, his mind full of the endless anxiety that his best years were behind him.

"Tell me about it," Charlie spoke once Fiona's giggles died down. "It's like one morning I woke up, and I'm suddenly thirty-five years old, like I aged overnight."

Charlie shook his head, a grin plastered on his face. Usually, he would pity himself for his life's dullness thus far, but the alcohol in his system has crossed the wiring in his brain. At this moment, he found the lack of excitement in his life as amusing as all hell.

"I never did anything fun when I was in my twenties," he stated. "I never had any wild nights or one night stands. I never did any of the experimenting you can get away with when you're young."

Fiona nodded along, listening attentively.

"I didn't do any of the fun, reckless shit you're supposed to do. No, I spent the majority of my twenties worrying about bill payments and mortgages, life insurance and being a husband."

Charlie let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, his gaze directed at his hand clasped around his beer bottle.

He had never admitted these feelings to anyone, not even to Nicole. But, confessing his feelings to Fiona felt… freeing, even more so when he lifted his gaze to see her nodding and smiling at his words.

"Tell me about it!" She replied, perhaps a little too loudly. The remaining patrons surrounding them turned their heads at the abrupt, disruptive noise, but Fiona paid them no mind.

"It's hard not to feel like your best years are behind you, especially when you had to grow up faster than those around you." She said, consciously lowering the volume of her voice a little bit.

Fiona had never met anyone her age that felt the same way about their twenties. All of her peers only had good things to say and funny stories to tell about how they spent their twenties.

All around her, people told stories about their crazy one night stands, pregnancy scares, partying, and the places they travelled too. Fiona never did any of that. She didn't even go anywhere outside of L.A for her honeymoon.

"I spent my twenties and nearly half of my thirties taking care of and being responsible for my mum. While I'm so grateful for the time that I had with her, I just wish… I wish that the responsibility didn't fall onto my shoulders."

God, that makes me sound like such a terrible person, she thought to herself, taking a sip from her drink to busy herself and avoid eye contact with Charlie.

"I know what you mean," Charlie spoke, causing Fiona to snap her head up to meet Charlie's gaze.

"Don't get me wrong," he continued, "I loved building the theatre from the ground up and working through all the problems that came up during its development, but sometimes I feel like the stress of it all shaved a good ten years off my life."

He chuckled to himself, taking a final sip of his beer and setting down the empty bottle on the bar top.

"And being a husband was… rewarding in its own way. I learned a lot, through being married, about partnership and responsibility."

The bartender walked over to the pair, interrupting Charlie's next thought. He picked up the empty beer bottle and Fiona's empty glass.

"It's last call," the bartender spoke, as he placed the glass and bottle somewhere under the counter. "You two need anything else?"

Fiona turned to look at Charlie, who gave a slight shake of his head, then turned back to the young bartender who stood in front of them.

"No, we're ok, thank you," Fiona answered, flashing an appreciative smile at the man, who gave a curt nod before leaving.

"There's just more I wish I'd done." Charlie continued, "I don't know. I guess it just feels like I missed out on a lot of things because I got married so young."

Fiona tilted her head to the side, her eyebrows furrowing together.

"Like what? What sort of things?" she inquired.

"Well, like, Nicole and I, we never, we uh we never…" Charlie trailed off, his eyes darting from Fiona to just about anywhere else.

Fiona's eyebrow lifted, and her eyes narrowed slightly. "You never… what?"

"We never…" Charlie started again, his eyes still dancing around the room, trying to find a focal point.

He glanced over at Fiona, her eyes wide and expectant. Charlie just sighed and mumbled, "it's embarrassing."

"Oh, it can't be that bad." Fiona playfully nudged Charlie's shoulder.

Charlie shook his head lightly, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

"C'mon Barber, you have to tell me now." Fiona urged lightly.

Charlie shook his head again. This time, a light chuckle escaped him.

"Besides, it's just me." Fiona continued with a wave of her hand, "who am I going to tell? And it's not like I'm the walking, talking poster-child for an avid social life either. So, I'm probably in the same boat."

Fiona shrugged when Charlie met her gaze. There was a coy smile etched on her face, her eyes filled with sincerity.

Charlie sighed, "We never did anything.. adventurous in bed."

The words were just barely above a whisper. If Fiona wasn't sitting directly beside Charlie, she probably wouldn't have heard him.

"That's completely normal, Charlie. Most couples don't have sex 50 Shades of Grey sty-"

"No, you don't understand," Charlie interrupted with a shake of his head, "We only ever had sex using two, maybe three, of the most basic positions."

Charlie glanced over at Fiona for the first time since his confession. Her eyebrows were shot up in surprise, and her jaw hanging open, lips forming into a little 'o' shape.

Charlie nodded his head and shrugged, "Yeah, I know."

Fiona's face quickly dropped, making Charlie chuckle. She didn't mean for her facial features to portray her surprise so blatantly. It was just so shocking and not at all what she assumed at first.

Fiona's mind was reeling with questions. She wanted to ask Charlie which positions he was talking about. He must be talking about the more fun basic ones, right? Surely he didn't mean they stuck to variations of the missionary position.

Fiona went to speak, to reassure her friend in some way. But each time she opened her mouth, the words died on her tongue. She was genuinely dumbfounded, at a loss for words. So she sat on the barstool, her mouth opening to speak and then closing again periodically.

Charlie stared at Fiona as he watched her process the information he just gave her. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head, her eyebrows furrowing together slightly, and her bottom lip snagged by her teeth.

He tried to suppress the small chuckles the rumbled out of his chest as he watched Fiona at a loss for words. This was someone who always had a comeback, a word of encouragement and kindness. Charlie had never seen Fiona rendered speechless before.

After quite some time, Fiona spoke, "Not even any foreplay?'

The question was quiet, mumbled, and laced with a tone of awe or wonderment. Charlie wasn't sure she had meant to say it out loud.

His suspicions were proven to be right when Fiona looked up at him sheepishly, a bright red blush spread across the tops of her cheeks.

Fiona looked away from Charlie, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"I don't know if you'd call it foreplay, but, yeah," Charlie replied, shyly.

Charlie could feel the heat rise to his cheeks, but he wrote it off as the effects of the alcohol.  

"What do you mean?" Fiona pipped up, looking quizzically at Charlie.

Charlie cleared his throat, "We only ever did, uh, hand stuff. And only just to, uh, get the job done…"

God, he felt like a grade-schooler again, sheepishly talking about sex. He couldn't even bring himself to say the proper terminology.

"Wait, so you're telling me that she never…" Fiona trailed off, making a suggestive motion with her hand near her mouth.

Charlie just smiled at her, shifting ever so slightly each time Fiona's tongue pushed out against her cheek. The alcohol and lack of food in his system had already fogged his brain, making him slightly dizzy.

At least, that's what Charlie was telling himself. As he watched Fiona, he willed his body not to betray him by sending blood down to his crotch at the lewd gesture.

"Nope, never. Not even on my birthday." Charlie admitted with a longing sigh, tearing his eyes away from Fiona before clearing his throat.

"And she never let me go down on her either," Charlie paused, his mind flashing with memories of him nearly begging to go down on Nicole. "I think that's the one thing I miss the most," he mumbled, half to himself, half to Fiona.

Fiona nearly choked at the blunt honesty of his words. She remembered the way Charlie all but devoured his food like a man who'd been starved for years.

It wasn't long before her mind made the connection, images of what Charlie would look like, feel like, between her legs.

Fiona's thighs clench instinctively at the thought, her cheeks and ears set aflame by a red hot heat. Her gaze shifted to inspect the different bottles of alcohol, lining the shelves behind the bar.

The two sat in silence for a moment, Fiona meticulously observing each individual bottle. At the same time, Charlie fiddled with the wedding band on his finger.  

It wasn't until Charlie caught a glimpse of his watch, catching the time, did he break the silence.

"Shit. I should probably get back." He mumbled, turning his head to face Fiona.

Fiona looked down at her phone, the time reading 10:45. "Yeah, I probably should too, I've got work pretty early tomorrow."

She pushed off the bar, giving her leverage to carefully step down from the stool. Charlie did the same, stumbling slightly as he untangled his legs.

Fiona was quick on her feet, coming up close to Charlie. She wrapped a hand around his waist, putting the other firmly at the centre of his chest.

"You ok?" she asked, looking up at him, while only the slightest hint of amusement on her face.

Charlie stiffened momentarily at the suddenness of Fiona's touch but quickly relaxed into it. Her hand on his chest was so small, yet it felt so stable, grounding Charlie to the spot where he stood.

"Yeah," he mumbled, "just these damn long legs."

Fiona chuckled, squeezing the side of his waist before stepping back from him. Her hand still lingered on his chest, absent-mindedly tracing the buttons with her finger.

"You are far too tall to be sitting on those stools."

Charlie returned her smile, letting out a breathy laugh. He was just about to reach for his wallet when Fiona's hand swatted lightly at his chest.

Charlie looked at her, tilting his head to the side inquisitively.

Fiona smiled, shaking her head side to side. "I've got this. You saved me from an otherwise very boring night."

"Let me at le-"Charlie started, but Fiona swatted him again.

"Barber, let me get the drinks, ok? You are, technically, my guest here in the city of angels, after all." Fiona winked at him before flagging down the bartender to settle the bill.

When she returned to Charlie, Fiona looped her arm around his waist once again. He had been swaying where he stood, not noticing until Fiona was there to stabilize him.

Fiona chuckled again, "C'mon sea legs, let's get you to bed."

Charlie mentally cursed himself for only eating a few pieces of roast chicken and nothing else since his breakfast this morning. At the same time, he let Fiona lead him to the hotel elevators.

"What floor are you on?" Fiona asked after pushing the 'up' button on the wall between elevators.

"I'm on the fifth floor, I think.." Charlie fished around in his pants pockets, looking for his hotel key.

He pulled it out from his back pocket, the number '515' scribbled on the envelope it was encased in.

"Yeah, the fifth floor," he confirmed as they both stepped into the waiting elevator car.

Charlie took purchase against the handrail while Fiona pushed the correct button.

"Looks like we're on the same floor." She smiled at him over her shoulder before hitting the close door button.

Fiona stepped back next to Charlie as she watched the doors close shut.

The elevator gave a sudden jolt upwards, causing Charlie to lose his footing and come crashing into Fiona with a grunt.

Again, Fiona's instincts were quick, and she caught Charlie in her arms, a hand on his chest like before. Only this time, this time, their bodies were touching.

Charlie's legs tangled with Fiona's, and his face was so close to hers that she could feel the warmth of his breath fan across her face.

The pair locked eyes. They stayed like that for just a moment before Fiona slowly pulled away, untangling her arms and legs from Charlie's body.

Charlie cleared his throat and mumbled a soft 'sorry,' leaning back against the cold metal wall. He stabilized himself by placing his hands on the handrail beside him.

Fiona copied Charlie, settling back into the wall as she focused on the changing numbers that indicated each floor. She placed one hand on the handrail, her fingers brushing against Charlie's briefly.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, staring straight ahead. Neither of them dared to look over at the other, but they would have seen identical blushes spread across the other's face.

Fiona let out a breath when the elevator doors finally opened again. She stepped out, reaching for Charlie's arm as they walked down a nondescript hallway. This time, Charlie leads the way, interlocking Fiona's arm with his own.

"This is me," Charlie spoke, coming to a stop outside his door.

Fiona untangled her arm from Charlie's, turning to face in front of him. The two stood opposite from each other, Charlie leaning slightly against the wall.

He was staring at Fiona, studying her face, with a smile tugging at his lips.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Fiona asked, smirking up at Charlie.

Charlie's smile widened, an amused huff of air leaving him.

"It's nothing, I just was expecting this to be a shitty night," Charlie stated with a shrug, his hands finding purchase in his pants pockets. "And I definitely wasn't expecting to see you again, especially not here of all places."

Fiona's head dipped down, her hands brushing her hair behind her ears. It was a nervous habit, a self soother of sorts, that Fiona had always done. It was something Charlie had always found it to be earnestly adorable, though he never said that out loud.

"Hmm, I was pleasantly surprised to see you too. I, I.." Fiona paused. She wanted to tell Charlie that she missed him, but something inside her stopped her.

Instead, she said, "It was nice to see you again, Charlie."

Fiona flashed Charlie a toothy grin and gave him a light jab in the chest with her finger. Charlie caught her hand in his own before she could pull away.

He gave a light tug on her arm, beckoning Fiona closer to him. Fiona's breath hitched as she looked into Charlie's eyes. His brown eyes were burning with… adoration? Sincerity?

Fiona couldn't tell, but the look in Charlie's eye was warm and welcoming, impossible to tear away from. She had gotten so lost in it that she didn't notice Charlie wrap his arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

She hadn't noticed that she wrapped her own arms around his neck, that Charlie was now smirking at her. Fiona cleared her throat and gave an awkward chuckle.

Fiona let herself relax into Charlie's arms, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Don't be a stranger, Barber, seriously."

"I won't promise."

"I'll hold you to that."

Fiona pulled away, her hands dropping to pat lightly on Charlie's chest.

"Good night, Barber."

Charlie stepped back, his arms dropping from Fiona's waist, go fish out his hotel keycard.

"Good night, Fiona." Charlie smiled.

With that, Fiona turned around and made her way back down the hall towards her room.

                *********

taglist: @hardlyinteresting​ @gurl-ly​

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 247: Todoroki Angst

Previously on BnHA: Ujiko started some kind of procedure on Tomura to make him even more powerful, because that’s what we were all asking for at the end of the last arc, isn’t it? “Horikoshi can you go ahead and make the homicidal nihilist even stronger please and thank you.” Well not to worry, because he’s got our backs! Meanwhile Hawks poked around the villain HQ trying to find out more details about That End Of The World Thing That’s Happening In 4 Months, and came up with squat. But he did successfully pass on his secret message to Endeavor about how “THE CHILDREN ARE OUR ONLY HOPE,” so Endeavor shrugged and was like “fine, HEY CHILDREN, LET’S GO FIGHT CRIME.” Anyways, so I was thinking, do you suppose they all just figured out they’re actually in a shounen manga? Because that would explain a lot.

Today on BnHA: Endeavor gathers the kids together and is all “so tell me about yourselves.” Deku is all “I have two quirks shut up it’s not weird” and says he wants to get better at harnessing his power so that he can use it without it being destructive. Kacchan is all “I’m already strong but I want to become better as a person” and I appreciate how the other characters are able to hold themselves back from exclaiming, “THIS KID’S REDEMPTION ARC... IT’S TOO POWERFUL...!” because I sure the fuck would have if I was there. And then Shouto is all “hey dad, friendly reminder that I’m here because I want to get stronger to reach my own goals, but you’re still a shitty dad and I hate your guts.” Endeavor, to his credit, reacts very appropriately to all three kids (including a resigned “got it” to Shouto, which was in fact the only appropriate response, so props to him for that), and dives right on in to mentoring the shit out of them. He then delivers a challenge -- defeat at least one villain without him beating them to the punch. So that should be fun, and I mean that with complete sincerity. Bring it!

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity afterward, and added a few ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.)

oooooh shit we’re starting right on a continuation of the Fuyumi panel from last week. TODOROKI DRAMA ARC INCOMING. THIS IS IT BOYS. THE BIG ONE

omg omg omg

friendly reminder that chapter 242, in which this internship was first announced, came out on September 6. that is six whole weeks that we’ve been waiting for this internship to actually get started for real. I WAS PROMISED CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AND UNUSUAL INTERACTIONS AND UNLIKELY BONDS BEING FORMED. and I have been patient, because In Horikoshi We Trust, but is it finally that time now? I just need them to stop hinting at it and finally get to it before I lose my mind okay

so Endeavor is asking Baku and Deku for their character profiles

Deku: “I used to break bones on demand, now I shoot wind from my fists along with the occasional Venom Symbiote”

Bakugou: “I blow shit up and I also have your character development arc, but fast-tracked so that it kicked in before I could fully become a massive prick like you”

meanwhile Shouto just sits there pouting because as we know from the Babysitter’s Club arc (and also from the Sports Festival arc, during which he dragged Deku into a hallway and was all “time to tell you about my tragic past” completely unprompted), he actually has his own character profile on standby ready to go at a moment’s notice, but everyone just keeps it benched all the time. poor Shouto

(ETA: he will not be silenced!!)

so Endeavor is phrasing this in the weirdest way possible, asking them to state “their current ‘assignments’” lol what. at least the second part of this is clearer, with him asking what they want to gain from this internship

okay so Deku says he wants to control his power so that he can “move at max performance.” yes that’s a very good goal for you, World’s Last Hope

lmaoooo

“weren’t you the kid who broke every bone in his arms several times in succession while attempting to KO my youngest child.” way to make an impression Deku

so Deku patiently explains that, yes, but we’re WELL BEYOND the whole bone-breaking stage now and currently at the “trying to master my new SECRET POWER which is still under wraps” stage. get with the times, Endeavor

hahaha here we go. this is so painfully awkward

“yeah so I kind of have a second quirk now. you know. as one does. please ignore how the only other known person to ever have multiple quirks just so happens to be the greatest villain of all time who is currently incarcerated in Tartarus following his last stand during which the number one hero lost all his power. that’s not relevant. anyways so yeah, two quirks, it’s totally normal and not a big deal at all”

what the actual fuck is he going to do once quirks # 3, 4, 5, etc. come along? this is such a disaster it’s not even funny. and by the way, this whole time I’ve been ignoring the elephant in the room that is Katsuki’s face while Deku nearly spills the beans about his so-called secret. but let’s all just acknowledge that it’s amazing and it belongs in a museum

thankfully Endeavor has had more than enough of exercising his brain today after all of that codebreaking, and isn’t even bothering to ask any questions. instead he’s just like, “show me.” probably the right call; easier to just see wth he’s going on about rather than keep listening to this strange and incredibly suspicious explanation

here we go guys time for some BLOOP

that’s because you’re still scared of it! boy if you’re not going to listen to Katsuki then I hope Endeavor can knock some sense into you at least!

you know, Endeav may be scowling so hard his face is gonna get stuck that way, but so far he’s not half bad at this mentoring/coaching thing

really appreciate how he jumps straight into asking pertinent questions about what Deku wants to do with this new quirk, rather than being all “how the fuck do you go from breaking all of your bones to THAT”

so now Deku’s explaining how it works and says he’s been applying the same principles that he uses with Air Force

LMAOOOOO

this right here is the most accurate introduction to Deku that Endeavor could ever have possibly received. THAT’S IT, THAT’S THE CHARACTER

and it also neatly sums up his whole problem with Blackwhip as well, which is just that he’s way overthinking it. no fucking wonder he can’t do anything with it yet! he’s trying to run NASA-level calculations in his head in real time while using it, like wtf. just let loose boi

also can we stop and appreciate how both Bakugou and Shouto are just fucking done. like, Bakugou is one thing, but just look at Todoroki fucking Shouto, Deku’s #1 fan and admirer, being all “wtf I hate Deku now”

LMAO AGAIN

Burnin’ is quickly rising through my favorite character ranks. meanwhile Shouto has gleaned, quite correctly, that those were in fact words coming from Deku’s mouth. what kind of words is a mystery, but at least it’s something

omfg Endeavor can speak Deku

(ETA: one of the things I’m noticing on a reread is how Endeavor is approximately twice the size of the kids. and it’s not like they’re small or anything. but they look like toddlers next to him. he’s only 6′4″ how is he towering over them to this degree.)

I feel like Endeavor’s intelligence levels fluctuate from week to week. or even from panel to panel. enigma

so blah blah blah he’s thinking to himself “his raw power rivals All Might’s” and then -- ! LOOK AT THIS SHIT

SOFT ENDEAVOR ADOPTING DEKU WTAF. holy shit. if anyone says they saw this coming, I’m calling you out as a fucking liar. BUT I’M HERE FOR IT OMG

AND NOW THIS ONE’S TURN!

(ETA: Kacchan is 5′7″. pretty sure Endeavor is actually 8 feet tall.)

lmao Deku’s face. trying to work out what this means and whether it’s good or bad

meanwhile, after the multiple pages of extensive rambling from Deku, Endeavor is about to get an introduction from Bakugou which will likely just consist of “I WANT TO BECOME THE NUMBER ONE” with absolutely no introspection whatsoever. basically the polar opposite of Deku. gotta love it

HERE WE GO

ooh, unexpected! though still brusque. but to be fair, he’s gifted when it comes to saying a lot in few words

(ETA: out of the three, Kacchan definitely took up the least amount of time with his introspection. not bad for a kid who used to think the entire fucking world revolved around him. growth!)

now he’s bitching at Burnin’ for not having anything better to do than stand around heckling them lmao

SHE’S HERE TO PROVIDE COMMENTARY KATSUKI SHHH. in other news, today I learned that Burnin’ is actually me. huh

OH MY GOD KATSUKI IS METAING -- !! [ELBOWS MY WAY INTO THE FRONT ROW] EVERYONE FUCKING SHUT YOUR MOUTHS AND LISTEN!!!!

OH MY GOD

y’all Katsuki really just fessed up and admitted to needing to work on his growth as a person rather than his physical ability. along with a NEW ADORABLE CHILDHOOD FLASHBACK, EXCUSE ME WHILE I ORDER PRINTS OF THIS TO PUT IN MY WALLET

AND HERE WE GO NOW, THE WHOLE “I WANT TO SURPASS THE NUMBER ONE” PART. BUT IT WAS SO MUCH DEEPER THAN I EXPECTED, KATSUKI YOU CONTINUE TO MAKE ME PROUD! LOOK HOW DETERMINED HE IS TO BE A BETTER PERSON

PEOPLE OF THE WORLD, IF YOU’RE NOT ROOTING FOR BAKUGOU KATSUKI THEN WHY ARE YOU EVEN READING THIS MANGA HONESTLY

OMG ENDEAVOR

“this kid...” REMINDS YOU OF SOMEONE, DOESN’T HE! OH MY GOD I NEED TO SIT AND CALM DOWN AND DRINK SOME WATER

anyway so do you love him. YOU BETTER SAY YES!!

LMAO SHOUTO COULDN’T HOLD IT IN ANY LONGER

LET’S HEAR IT THEN, FIVE PEEPEE MAN!!

Endeavor is whipping back around on him all “I THOUGHT YOU CAME HERE TO MASTER YOUR NEW TECHNIQUE” with this look of borderline panic on his face that implies to me that it’s one thing to take on two new kids with no familiar baggage, and quite another to have to deal with his own son’s personal angst which is directly related to his own worst personal shortcomings and sins! but that’s just too bad, Endeavor! also, fuck you!

OH MY GOD TODOROKI SHOUTO HAS THE SOFTEST SADDEST EXPRESSION AND THIS SPEECH IS GOING TO MAKE ME CRY WHAT THE HELL

even Kacchan has gone soft. meanwhile, is somebody cutting onions in here or

(ETA: also, Kacchan really has been promoted to best friend status, hasn’t he? or co-best friend at least. Shouto really does value their time training together, huh. “spending time with these guys.” anyways so this officially is the TodoBakuDeku arc, sorry everyone I don’t make the rules.

also! I really love how Shouto’s character development has been all about him finally figuring out what it is that he wants. one way or the other, Endeavor has been the focus of his life since childhood. everything he did was centered around him, even when it was centered around defying him. it was still always him, and never Shouto. because he’d been raised as his father’s tool, he struggled with feeling like anything he achieved was just giving his father exactly what he wanted. so he never really had the freedom to strive toward his own goals until Deku finally broke him free of that mindset. it wasn’t until he was surrounded by others who shared the same dream he’d once had that he was able to move past the toxic part of that resentment. not to say that it wasn’t justified, because it was! and is, still. but all the same, it was hurting him at least as much as it ever hurt Endeavor, if not much more so. 

so I really like the message his arc sends here, which is that forgiveness is not so much for the benefit of the one who hurt you as it is for yourself. and that’s obviously not the right word for it, by the way -- “forgiveness” -- but it’s just a placeholder for lack of a better one. because obviously as we can see, he hasn’t forgiven him, but what he has done is put that part of his past behind him. for his own sake, for his own peace, which he deserves. anyways guys Shouto is so fucking strong and I love him so damn much. shit.)

“y’all didn’t think I was gonna put the Terrible Trio together with Endeavor and not follow through on it with piles and piles of Todoroki angst,” Horikoshi says, casually filing his nails with one eyebrow raised. “c’mon”

here it comes y’all

ain’t no force on this earth more dramatic than a Todoroki. did he somehow get a wind blowing in from somewhere. aren’t they indoors

loool Endeavor getting DRAGGED LIKE AN UNTIED SHOELACE in front of these kids he just met two seconds ago, oof. “don’t forget dad, just because I’ve mellowed out a bit and accepted that I need to learn how to use my fire side doesn’t mean I don’t still hate your guts because BOY DO I.” oh damn

so your kid is justifiably pissed at you for your decade and a half of abuse, not to mention annoyed that you’re just putting it all behind you now and acting like it never happened. but it’s not like it’d make things any better if he just went back to acting like a jerk with these new kids! so here we all are, with no easy answers for this situation. what’s a 45-year-old man trying to make up for his past sins to do

(ETA: boy I just took a stroll around the ol’ fandom and a lot of people have really strong feelings about this huh. the most common sentiment seems to be “YAASSSS SHOUTO”, which I can 100% get behind. but it seems like a lot of people are also angry that Shouto is in this situation to begin with. specifically, we have the usual faction of people who are upset that Endeavor is getting any kind of redemption arc at all, and would prefer if he remained eminently hatable and shunned and detested for the rest of his days.

and look, I get it. humans are hardwired to want things to be fair. we want karma. kindness should beget kindness, and cruelty should net you the same treatment in return. reap what you sow. and while some crimes occasionally fall into a grey area, it hardly gets more black and white than Endeavor’s case. not only is there the child and spousal abuse, there’s also the incredibly dubious consent issues that arise in the case of an arranged marriage. like, there’s really no question that what he’s done is bad. so to see behavior like that “rewarded” by his becoming the number one hero, and to see people actually admiring him, and to watch him taking steps to turn his life around even as his wife and children struggle to gather the shattered pieces of their own lives -- yeah, that’s gonna trigger something in a lot of people. because it’s not fair. he hurt good people who didn’t deserve it, and all of this makes it seem like he’s getting away with it.

but here’s the thing -- there are different types of penance. there’s punishment, but there is also atonement. and Endeavor is getting his just desserts in some ways -- by being forever denied the chance to reach the goal that he worked his whole life toward, and by finally developing a conscience, the better to fully experience the remorse of knowing the pain he brought about to his family. but what’s arguably more important than that is that he also has the opportunity to try and atone for some of the terrible things he’s done, by doing good in the world now. he is a hero. his job is to help people. every day he is making the world a little better by doing that. and that, to me, is such a fascinating idea: a terrible person doing good things. and it’s something that feels almost counterintuitive, and that’s part of why a lot of people have so much trouble accepting it, I think. but it’s a fact of life, isn’t it? if good people can do bad things, then it stands to reason that the reverse is true as well. 

and I’ll just come right out and say it -- for me, if it comes down to a choice of having someone be punished, or having them be forced to do good things to atone, I’m gonna go with the latter just about every time. because while it may not feel quite as viscerally satisfying, it’s the option that produces the greatest net benefit for the world. without Endeavor, the world would have one less person out there battling evil. and as I suspect we’re going to continue to see in this arc, there are other, subtler ways that he can still do good as well.

so yeah. it’s a tricky thing. but to be honest, the ability to explore this type of complexity is one of the things I respect the most about Horikoshi’s storytelling. he’s not taking the easy way out here. he’s not giving us easy answers one way or the other. no matter what kind of resolution we get to this character arc, it’s not going to be something that will satisfy everyone. but that’s just how it is. anyways, apologies for the rant.)

hmmm Endeavor

yeah you really read that one wrong. anyway I guess it’s your turn to make a speech now

...

classic Endeavor

(ETA: actually truth be told, that was quite eloquent, and pretty much the only thing he could have said in response to all that. it’s not like he can even begin to justify all of his actions, and pretty much anything else that came out of his mouth would have come off like an attempt to dismiss his son’s feelings, or him trying to weasel out of taking responsibility. there is pretty much nothing else he can say here except for “I understand. that’s valid, and I fucked up.” which this is pretty much acknowledging. anyways this whole chapter is basically the sequel/continuation to 192 and I’m loving it omg.)

so he says he’ll watch over the three of them as a hero, and lead them in hero stuff

oh, I wasn’t going to post this panel, but now Endeavor’s saying “those are the three fundamental skills sought after from a hero” so I guess I should, huh

ooh he says that generally heroes will choose to specialize in either rescue or battle, but his policy is to kick ass at all three. well that’s one similarity between him and All Might, at least. if you’re not here to both win and rescue then what are you even doing with your life am I right

damn there really is a reason why this guy is the number one huh

okay, like. not to knock like 99% of the other heroes out there, but is anyone else sitting there thinking “wow, finally someone competent” or is it just me. like, I really do get a sense of “he’s got it all under control” from him which is lacking with pretty much all of the other heroes. no wonder society is on the verge of being in shambles. what we really need is for all heroes to be this capable, and not just All Might or Endeavor or whoever happens to be the current number one

okay, Endeavor is really out here being a genuinely good mentor, I’m speechless

holy shit

-- WHAT, NO! ARE WE ALREADY DONE?? WHY

okay but I do love that, though. it’s a perfect goal for them. difficult, but not impossible at the rate they’re growing. and it also just so happens to be something that they need to be able to do if they really are going to be the shoulders that society is resting all of its hopes upon. and last but not least, it’s something that all three of them will be able to set their minds too gladly. kick this old man’s ass, kids

anyways. ladies and gentlepeople this chapter was only thirteen pages. shortest chapter we’ve had in a minute. but at least it was densely packed! even if Shouto took up like half of it with his Daddy Issues Speech. that’s okay Shouto we always welcome your daddy angst

all in all I am satisfied. character development, and finally a clear goal for the arc. though part of me would also love it if they manage to achieve this in like the very next chapter. you never know with these wunderkinds lol

[lightninginabottle0613]

some post-ttlr reflections 🚌💛

typing this from beyond the grave, as you all have killed me/are continuing to kill me with your sweet comments on this epilogue. what are you all doing, why are you all perfect angels. why was my “””epilogue””” the longest goddamn chapter of this story. i have so many questions and not a single answer.

if you are at all interested in some deeply personal ramblings and feelings (tw: depression and mental health and all of that), those are below the cut. i was honestly just looking for a place to dump them all, so i could properly process this whole experience that completely turned my life upside down in a matter of months. but if i learned anything from writing this story, it’s that maybe some people can relate to what i’m feeling! so they’re there - if that’s something that floats your boat.

if not (and you will not offend me, seriously, it’s long lol), then please please please just know one thing - i love every single person who read this story. i can’t believe it’s over and i’m going to miss the fuck out of it, but i’m so happy that i could write something worthy of consumption for a fandom/pairing that is so close to my heart. i sort of felt the whole time like i wished i had waited until it was finished to start posting, instead of updating after i was done each chapter, but looking back - i’m so glad i didn’t. this story was so heavy in so many ways, and every comment and private message made me want to keep writing. so much about this felt like a shared experience and a collaborative effort, even as the author, so i just want to say thank you to anyone who showed it even the slightest amount of attention. i can’t wait to keep writing both for and among such incredible people.

(also, i would be remiss if i didn’t say a special thank u/i love u to @yanak324 and @harrenhollaback. for the emotional support and for gifting me with friendships i never expected when i joined this community. i owe you both more than i can say.)

ok hey! i’ll get right to it - 2019 was the worst year of my life, and i very nearly didn’t survive it.

i’ve struggled with depression for about ten years, to varying degrees. it runs deep in my family, in pretty much every person on my mother’s side, and i didn’t learn that until about four years into my own mental health journey. my entire life, a lot was expected of me - not a super uncommon thing for an eldest child, i think. but as a result of a lot of repression from other people in my family of their own mental illnesses, i was confused by a lot of the heaviness i was feeling, and i thought i needed to handle it the same way, because that was the only example i had.

a lot of my progress was stunted after that, but i did start trying to make some changes when i turned 18. even so, i was doing a lot of the work on my own and in silence, and i still made a lot of decisions based on what i thought i should do, instead of giving myself the space and time to figure out what i actually wanted to do. i think my main focus for so long was just on not feeling sad anymore - because i was still so in the dark about the complexities of depression, and i had no idea how much work it actually takes to undo a lifetime of destructive behaviors and negative thought patterns.

my life was pretty nonstop from 18-24. for six years i dealt with one crisis after another. i was forced to react to all of them in real time, but i wasn’t able to thoroughly process any of them, and it wasn’t until may of 2019 that i realized just how brutal and damaging that pace was. that month was the first time that my life was even remotely calm for the first time in six years, and once my mind had a second to breathe, i realized just how numb it was.

i really, really did not want to be here anymore. i was so far down in the pit (something i’ve been calling it for about five years), that i could barely breathe. i can remember one specific saturday that month where i sat on the floor of my apartment for three hours in silence and didn’t eat a single thing until 6:00 that night. even now as i type this, i’m curbing the urge to call myself dramatic (ha), but i don’t know how else to describe it - other than saying that i quite literally could not function.

as suuuuper dumb and cheesy as this probably sounds, this was all concurrent with the last season of game of thrones and my subsequent discovery of the character of arya (i hadn’t consumed any asoiaf content prior to last year). i was so fascinated by her - i know so many arguments can be made that show!arya was not really her by the end of it, but trust and believe that i have read everything about book!arya that i can get my hands on. i had never seen so much of myself in a character before - both book and show - and i found such a comfort in watching her navigate childhood and deal with trauma and learn how to be vulnerable.

i couldn’t tell you the first fic i found or even how i stumbled across ao3 to begin with. but i can tell you that - not unlike probably anyone reading this, lol - i think i tore through like five stories a day for the entire summer. you know that post that’s like ‘all i did this summer was read fanfiction and cry’ ? hello. LITrully all i did. reading so many different authors’ takes on a character that i connected with so deeply and how she leaned into love/grew from pain/strengthened her convictions was a catharsis i’d never experienced before.

i had a massive upheaval in my personal life toward the end of august that resulted in my living out of a hotel room for five days, and one of those days i blinked and had 6K words of a gendrya fic written. it contained zero of the angst and pain i was feeling, and i still have no idea which deep recess of my brain it came from. it was light and silly, and i had no intention to continue beyond that, honestly. and then the literal first comment i ever got was from someone that said ‘please don’t let this be a one-shot,’ and i suddenly realized i was doing something so harmful (something that’s been a habit of mine for so, so long, but one that fic-writing has forced me to break) - i had found something that i genuinely enjoyed, but i was talking myself out of pursuing it, because my own insecurities were telling me it wouldn’t be worth it.

ttlr was supposed to be similarly light. i’d seen a post on a really long prompt list that was written by someone whose parents actually met in the same way that gendry and arya meet in the story, and i thought it was hilarious and serendipitous and perfect for their canon storyline, which is very much a pseudo-road trip in a way. i wanted arya to have struggles with depression and self-worth, because that’s true to my interpretation of her character, and i knew i wanted to sort of explore her conflicts with catelyn as a bit of a side plot, but nothing could have prepared me for how heavy the story became. the basic gendrya plot remained the same, but the rest of the story strayed so far from the outline i planned out, in the best way.

i really hate to call it self-insertion, because i think that sort of cheapens the messages i started to try to send with each chapter, but almost every non-gendrya detail in the story is something that’s happened to me. 99% of arya’s conversation with catelyn in chapter 10 came from verbatim text messages between my mom and me, that i had to scroll back to in order to reference. i struggled so much with how to characterize ned, because i think he’s sort of difficult to get right since a lot of his canon characterization is learned through memories that other people have of him, but in this story, he is my dad. all of arya’s introspections and bad habits are mine, her conversations with her therapist are mine (adapted accordingly), and her attitude toward romantic love is mine. i do my best to keep a journal, but writing this story all but replaced that for me, for months.

so EVEN AS i slowly started to adjust to what this story was turning into for me personally, absolutely nothing could have prepared me for how it resonated with other people. depression is like a tailored suit. on the outside, it looks like any other suit for any other person, and it has a lot of the same surface-level features. but beyond that, it preys on your specific insecurities and traumas, and no one person’s experience is exactly the same as someone else’s - obviously, because no two people are exactly the same. so when i started getting comments and messages from people saying they felt seen and understood, and that my depiction of mental illness was like a punch in the gut/made them cry/was so true that it was at times hard to read, i knew that there was a reason that my brain wanted me to write this story, beyond my need for my own healing.

one of the best comments i got was from someone who said that in the future, if they ever met someone who said they didn’t understand depression, they were going to show them ttlr. i cried for like half an hour after i read that (like the choking, sobbing kind), because all i ever want to do is educate myself and other people on this really hard stuff, and make people feel like they have the right tools to be empathetic. i know that the story ended on a hopeful note - because there is always hope but it’s also a fiction story (and i would never write an un-hopeful ending for gendrya…miss me with that) - but i also really hoped to convey the idea that she still has work to do.

because i am so far from done, myself. i’m still living in the city i moved to when i thought that all i needed was physical space from my problems, and i’m finally (sort of) at a place where i can take the time i need to figure out where i’m meant to be next. i’m in my last semester of grad school, studying something that i recently learned i hate, because i picked it thinking it was the logical decision, and now it would be stupid to drop out. and i really did have that text conversation with my mother, but that was about nine months ago, and i currently haven’t spoken to her since new year’s day.

i’m also in therapy, and i’m slowly starting to reach back out to some of the people i love, who i’ve shut myself off from for the past eight months. i’m at a job that i kind of hate in a lot of ways, but it also allows me to have one-on-one time with people and help them develop, and that’s super fulfilling. and i have a real hobby now that i previously hadn’t done since before i was a teenager. that’s thanks in large part to arya, but it really comes down to this community of people.

i am fully aware that i’m on the younger side of the people in this fandom, and the last thing i want to do is come off as preachy. but while i have big plans to continue writing for these characters and treating them with the care they deserve, i also do really want to continue to be someone that can make people feel a little bit less alone (through the stories i tell, and beyond that). the entire journey of this story for me was a lesson in how to say what i feel in an unapologetic way, treat even the darkest and saddest parts of myself with the same amount of love that i do the happy parts, and hopefully create a space where people feel like they can do the same thing.

i read something once that said that a member of a family who actively chooses their own healing will go through a period where they become the enemy, because they’ve disrupted the family system. i don’t know that this is true all the time, but i think it’s a really eye-opening way to think about a lot of situations where people find themselves isolated even more for prioritizing their own recovery. it was certainly the case for me, anyway. again, i know that i’m young and i have a lot of life left to live, but (at the risk of sounding ….. dramatic) i have that life to live because i’m making that prioritization. if ttlr, and any other story i write, can serve as the reminder for at least one person that healing is a choice we make and a long road to travel - and based on the comments i’ve gotten, it sounds like it has - then there’s nothing more that i could ask for.

this story is my entire heart and soul. i worried every step of the way about whether i was doing justice to the characters, but i mostly just loved having an outlet for such tough stuff. i’m excited to write more, but i don’t know that anything will ever mean as much to me as this has. so thank you to every person that gave it the time of day (or night lol). writing it genuinely changed my life.

(also as an additional resource, i’m sharing this podcast interview with none other than the hero of winterfell herself. i watched this when it first came out, and i’ve watched it probably 50 times since. if you’ve made it this far in this post - first of all, omg. but also if anything i said struck a chord and you haven’t seen this, it’s a must-watch. she hits the nail on the head perfectly, and she puts so much into words that i was never able to before.)

my messages are always open. i am always free to talk about anything and everything mental health. if you’re struggling, just know that i’m with you and i love you. 💛

[hookedontaronfics]

First Contact series - Part 7

Title: First Contact - Part 7 Read the previous installments here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 Rating: M Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: Mild cursing A/N: Although Jess and Taron are officially dating now, will they have what it takes to survive a month apart? This chapter contains plenty of sweet fluffy moments. The series will eventually involve more mature themes as it develops, so be warned! Enjoy! x

I was startled awake by the sound of a large stack of papers hitting the top of my desk. I sat upright so quickly I nearly tipped over in my desk chair, and blinked a few times before gathering where I was. At work, at my desk. Right, just where I shouldn’t have been napping. I gazed up at my boss, who was tapping his foot impatiently.

“Sorry, what do you need?” I asked, wiping the corner of my mouth as surreptitiously as possible.

“Office, now,” he said, and strode off. Shit.

It’d been two weeks since Taron had left London for his work, and while I’d like to say I handled that time with complete calm and utter grace, that just wouldn’t be me. Most of the time he would be available to talk was the middle of the night for me, and sometimes our conversations would take up hours so I’d crawl into work after only having slept three or four.

I sighed and rearranged my clothes slightly, making sure I didn’t look as rumpled as I felt, and hurried off to my boss’ office, shutting the door behind me and trying to steel myself for the inevitable lecture.

“Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chair. I perched on the edge of it, feeling ashamed and still exhausted.

“Is something going on that I should know about, Jess? I’ve noticed you’ve been exhausted and a bit scattered the past two weeks, and I just wanted to make sure everything in your home life is okay, and if not, if there’s anything I can do to help,” he said concernedly.

“I, uh, yes, everything’s fine. There’s just someone really important to me who’s been out of the country and so the only time we get to talk some days is late at night in my time zone. I’ve been trying to balance everything and not let it encroach on work but obviously I haven’t been perfect at that,” I admitted with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, I’ll do better,” I said, figuring that’s what my boss wanted to hear.

“If we need to adjust your hours to give you a later starting time, I think that could be arranged,” he said sympathetically.

“Really?” I asked, surprised again.

“We’re not tyrants here, Jess. Maybe that’s how it was for you in America, but we don’t try to take over our employees’ lives, and you’re one of our hardest workers here. You put in extra hours and always go the extra mile and that hasn’t been lost on me. So if this helps you get more sleep and be more productive, then I’m willing to try it out,” he smiled at that.

“Just for a couple more weeks,” I nodded, still a bit surprised with the outcome. We worked out some later hours for me and even the possibility of working from home when I didn’t have a table read, and I felt much better about things once I returned to my desk.

I made it through the rest of the workday with a hefty amount of caffeine and was grateful when I finally made it home to the flat. I kicked off my heels and laid down in my bed, still just completely worn out. I don’t remember dozing off, but I must have because I was awoken by my phone ringing. I had to dig it out from the sheets and it took a second for me to register that it was a video chat from Taron. I accepted the call and sat up, probably looking like a hot mess.

“Heeeey babe!” Taron grinned cheerily. I checked the time quickly; it was already night for him so I assumed he was just in his hotel room.

“Oh, hey,” I smiled sleepily.

“Did I wake you?” he asked, giving me the most adorable grin.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t supposed to be sleeping, so it’s alright,” I laughed. “I just got home from work an hour ago.”

“I see that,” he grinned, looking over me as I was still dressed in my nice office clothes.

“You mean I’m not just chilling in my jammies for once?” I giggled, before telling him I’d gotten caught napping accidentally at work but that it was all alright because my boss was amazing and I respected him for it. “It sounds silly to say it, but things have been really different for me here in London. I feel respected as an actual professional, not just someone’s slave,” I said thoughtfully. “Not to mention, I met you and that wasn’t something I ever counted on,” I grinned.

“I am oh so grateful that we did, though,” he said sweetly, making that familiar ache grow in my chest.

“I miss you so much,” I whispered softly, wishing I could reach through the screen and touch his beautiful face.

“I miss you too, badly,” he said, the video screen shaking as he seemed to readjust his position. I had to look away so it wouldn’t make me feel dizzy. “But it’s only two more weeks until you get to see me again. We can make it.”

“Do I sound pathetic?” I laughed at that.

“No, of course not, Jess. We’ve literally talked every day because I can’t stand not seeing your face. So if you’ve got it bad, so have I,” he replied.

“Oh, T,” I laughed softly. Sometimes he said things like that, and I didn’t always know how to respond. Our relationship had certainly grown despite the distance between us, and he always made it a point to text me good morning and good night no matter the time of day it was, or leave me funny memes or pictures to make me laugh. I loved how caring and thoughtful he was. He’d done everything in his power to keep me from feeling lonely and I was trying hard to stay grateful.

“I wish I could have brought you out here but that just wasn’t going to work,” he frowned, wrinkling his brow.

“It’s okay. I don’t want to distract you from your work. You know, work I’m completely and utterly going to fangirl over when I get to see it,” I teased lightly. “Don’t forget, Taron Egerton, I may be your girlfriend but I’m also your Number One fan,” I added, giggling.

“Oh boy,” he just chuckled. “Well I hope you’re ready for the VIP experience, because my girlfriend gets a very special place at my side,” he said sweetly.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” I smiled, as I heard the front door open. Mary must have just arrived home from work, and Jules wouldn’t be far behind.

“Roomies home?” Taron asked, having seen me look away at something. I nodded at that and yawned again.

“Shit, I need more coffee or something,” I whined.

“Or sleep,” Taron chuckled softly. “I decided it was my turn to stay up late and talk to you at a more normal time for you. I hate that I’ve gone and made you exhausted.”

“Oh please, talking every night has been the best part of every day,” I grinned at that. “I’ll take the exhaustion over not getting to see you. I just wish I could be with you right now. But, I know there will be more days like this ahead. I love what you do for a living and this might just be how it goes for us at times. I promise I can handle that.”

“I’m not so worried about you, love,” Taron said with a tired smile. “I’ve just gotten quite attached, you know. When I fall, I tend to fall hard,” he admitted.

Fallen for me? I thought to myself giddily. It still seemed hardly true at times that I was dating someone I’d long been a fan of, but it also just felt normal too. I’d met him on his level, as just another person living their life in London, and that our lives had intersected and started twining themselves around each other seemed almost meant to happen. We ended up having a lot of things in common, same musical tastes and interests in books and films. We could carry on conversations for hours about the deeper things in life. He was always thoughtful and introspective and unafraid to be emotional. Our personalities meshed so well, the more I got to know of the person he was when the cameras weren’t on. And I was beginning to deeply love that person.

“Hey, what are you thinking?” he asked, after I realized I’d been silent for a moment or two with my thoughts.

“How well we get on with each other,” I mused.

“Almost like it was meant to be,” Taron smirked back at me, his eyes dancing a bit.

“If that sudden storm hadn’t chased us into Tesco’s, and I hadn’t really needed brown sauce that day, then who knows if we’d ever have talked,” I laughed at that. “So yeah, it’s feeling a bit fated, isn’t it?”

“The brown sauce really did the trick,” Taron laughed heartily.

“I’m a bit obsessed, I know,” I giggled, pretending to hide my embarrassment behind my hands. 

“But really, I can’t imagine I wouldn’t have somehow noticed a woman as beautiful as you walking about London.”

“Taaaron, you’re too kind,” I whined slightly. “Tell me again why we have to be apart right now?”

He just chuckled at that, and looked about to fall asleep. “You should go get some rest, babe,” I replied gently.

“Before I drop my phone on my face,” he smirked lightly. “Talk to you soon,” he promised sweetly, waving at the camera, and I tried to remember everything about his precious face in the moment. We took our good-byes and I at once found myself having to combat the feeling of loneliness that washed over me.

I got up and changed out of my work clothes into just a simple pair of jeans and a shirt I’d dumped on the floor that was still at least half-clean before heading out of my room to find Mary, nearly tripping over Tim stretched out in the hallway. “Damnit, Tim!” I said, laughing and hopping on one leg after stubbing my toe on the hardwood floor in an effort to avoid him. He just meowed at me indignantly and didn’t move. That cat had more sass than most adults, I giggled to myself before flopping on the couch.

“So, how’s the day?” I asked Mary.

“Oh! Good!” she grinned over at me, flipping through channels on the telly a bit idly. “Might have a date with my co-worker,” she said off-handedly.

“What!” I shrieked loudly. “No way! Tell me details, come on!” I giggled.

“Well, I took your advice and finally just asked Emmett if he were available and wanted to maybe get a coffee sometime and he actually said yes!” she grinned.

“Maaarreeeee!” I laughed. “I’m so happy for you,” I giggled. “And what did I say, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, you told me so, I know,” she rolled her eyes at me. “It’s just scary! I don’t want to mess anything up.”

“You’ve just got to let it flow naturally, I guess. Try not to try too hard. When it forces things is when it gets awkward,” I tried to advise.

“What about you and Taron? How are things?” she asked curiously.

“Really good, I think. I miss him like mad. But we talk a lot, about a lot of stupid shit, really. And sometimes we fall asleep on each other and that’s always cute. But we’re becoming best friends first and that’s really important, I think. I’ve only kissed him a couple of times!” I giggled. “I want nothing more than to just be able to hug him again. But we’ve managed the first two weeks already and we’ll manage the next two weeks and then you can bet I’m going to tackle his ass at the airport!” I grinned, making Mary laugh.

“Well I think you two are couples goals,” she smiled. “It’s way too cute.”

“Well thanks, babes, I appreciate it. I really think I’m falling for him, head over heels,” I sighed softly. We talked a bit longer until Jules came home, pissed off about something at work, so we spent the next hour or so dishing on her idiot co-workers and making dinner together. It felt really good to just be there with my friends, allowing myself to be distracted from missing Taron so much. The evening ended relatively anticlimactically, and I fell asleep totally exhausted but at least happy.

The next week passed much the same, and I ended up grateful for my later hours, which meant I was much more refreshed and able to focus on work, and still get my late-night chats in with Taron. He was even sweet enough to have flowers ordered and sent to my work, and I loved looking at them at my desk and being reminded that I had someone who really cared about me. Our relationship was so much more than just what I could do for him; he returned that in kind and sometimes, even more than I felt I could.

“Mail!” Jules called out, breaking into my train of thought as I was perched on the couch, laptop on my lap, typing away at a script I was working on. She held the envelope in front of my face until I grabbed it. “What is this?” I asked, noticing it was from a travel agency.

“Hell if I know, but it’s got your name on it,” she shrugged, sitting on the couch and waiting for me to open it, nosy as she was.

“I never sent away for anything from this agency,” I commented as I slid my finger under the flap to open it. I pulled out what was inside, a plane ticket nestled inside a letter that simply read “Pack your bags and meet me in a week. I promise to make up for this month apart. -T”

Jules shrieked so loudly I nearly upset my laptop onto the ground. “Oh my god! That’s like the most romantic thing ever!”

“Jesus, Jules,” I laughed, a bit stunned as I tried to focus on the ticket’s destination. Dubrovnik? I thought, having to Google where that even was. Apparently it was a seaside town in Croatia; I had no idea, but I was sure Taron had chosen it for a particular reason.

“I don’t even know if I can go, Jules. I have work, I can’t just leave in a week. That’s insane,” I laughed softly.

“I’m sure Taron already cleared that with your boss. He seems the kind of guy to have planned all of that out,” Jules giggled. She had a fair point, I thought, finally giggling over it also.

“Holy shit. I’m going to Dubrovnik in a week,” I said, still not even sure how to process that. 

I’m pretty sure I fairly floated through the next week, after confirming that Taron had indeed cleared my vacation with my boss a month ago, which surprised me that he’d already been thinking so far ahead. It also suddenly made so much sense as to why my boss had been kind to me about my exhaustion; he’d already known about Taron and my relationship and hadn’t been surprised in the least about it.

Jules had insisted that we go shopping and she persuaded me to choose some cute dresses and bathing suits and, even though I tried to get out of it, she conned me into the lingerie store too, much to my chagrin. I felt there was no way Taron would want to see my body in some lacy racy thing, but Jules promised to pay for it so I had a hard time saying no to the black sheer babydoll she convinced me to pick out.

I ended up shoving the lingerie on the bottom of the suitcase as I packed, leaving the tags on because I couldn’t really stomach the thought of myself in it. I tried to be practical also, and packed a pair of jeans and some leggings along with some cute blouses and tees. I figured we would mostly be comfortable; he’d seen me in my after-work clothes or pajamas so often now that it hardly seemed to matter. Plus, even if I’d fantasized about it more than once, I wasn’t exactly sure we’d end up sleeping together. We were closer than ever now, yes, but we had barely been physical. 

I awoke the morning of my flight feeling both excited and nervous. Taron and I had talked briefly just before I’d gone to bed, and he had seemed so happy to finally see me. He told me he’d arrive in Dubrovnik a couple hours before me, and would be awaiting my arrival impatiently. He was just far too sweet for his own good, I thought as I dressed quickly. I did my hair and makeup and finished putting my toiletries together, nestling them in the space I’d reserved in my suitcase and latching it shut. I already had my carryon ready to go, and lugged both of those out to the main room before summoning an Uber to arrive in a half-hour.

Mary and Jules were eating breakfast but I felt a bit sick to my stomach thanks to nerves, so I just grabbed a protein bar and some coffee and made small talk with them until I got the notification that my Uber had arrived.

“Alright, ladies,” I grinned. “This is it. I’ll see you lovelies in a week!” I grinned as they both got up off the couch to hug me.

“You will have so much fun!” Jules squealed, happy for me.

“And come back all tanned, I bet,” Mary joked, and I laughed at that.

“Yeah, we’ll see. It’s gonna take a miracle to make me not blinding white,” I laughed, hoisting the carryon strap over my shoulder.

“Oh please,” Mary just grinned as Jules snapped her fingers and yelled “Hold on a sec!” as she ran off to her room. Mary just shrugged at me, but the look on her face told me she knew exactly what Jules was up to. Mary was a terrible liar.

Jules came back holding something behind her back. I tried to get a glimpse but she dodged my attempts and unzipped my suitcase, shoving something in there and zipping it back up. It was a box of some kind, but I couldn’t tell what. “What the hell did you just sneak into my suitcase?” I laughed at my roomies’ antics.

“Just something we figure you’ll need and wouldn’t have thought of yourself. Just trust us,” Jules said with a smirk.

“If those are condoms, so help me,” I said with mock severity.

“Oh for bloody’s sake, Jess. You’ve been flirting with Taron for three months now. Don’t you think it’s time?” Jules giggled, as I rolled my eyes but also blushed.

“Yeah, well, I can’t go into this expecting that, you know,” I shrugged. “Anyway, I’ve got to go. Bye!” I said, grabbing my suitcase and pulling it along with me, figuring I could toss the box later if I needed to. No sense in giving myself needless hopes.

“Have fun, but not too much fun!” Jules called out the door as I playfully flipped her off and hurried to the waiting Uber. I tossed my suitcase and bag in the back seat and soon we were heading off to the airport. My Uber driver had a decent playlist playing and didn’t seem one for conversation, and that was fine with me. I thanked him once we arrived at Heathrow and got myself through security and customs before feeling like I could finally relax a little.

<Just waiting to board! I can’t wait!> I texted Taron. I had no idea if he was already in the air or not, but almost immediately a text pinged through.

<I can’t wait to kiss your lovely face again. It’s been too long!> he wrote, making me swoon a bit.

<Same, T. Same> I texted back with a smile.

<I really think you’ll love it there. There were many things I wanted to see or do when I was filming but I was far too busy to do so, so I thought some day I’d like to go back and this felt like the perfect opportunity. And even better to have such lovely company. You deserve a break too, your boss told me you hadn’t taken any vacation time since you started working there over a year ago.>

<I’ve just enjoyed the job so much and truthfully had no where I really wanted to go. London has suited me just fine> I texted back.

<Yes, well, you had vacation days to burn. With me> Taron really could be so cheeky sometimes, I thought as I heard the attendant begin the boarding process. We texted until I was seated comfortably in my first class seat; I’d never flown first class so this was an experience I intended to savor. The flight was smooth as could be, which made me happy. I watched a movie, read some, and mostly daydreamed about being in Taron’s arms again. I was incredibly impatient to deplane once we had landed in Dubrovnik; the process felt like it took forever but was probably no longer than normal.

<We’re here! We’ve landed safely! Just waiting to get off this plane!> I texted.

<I’ll be waiting, love> came the reply.

I made a pit stop in the bathroom on my way to baggage claim, mostly because I had to pee really badly but also because I wanted to make sure I looked put together. I exchanged my leggings for a skirt I had stashed in my carryon and ran my fingers through my hair, nodding to my reflection in the mirror. That would just have to do.

I had to make myself walk at a normal pace as I followed the signs to baggage claim, but probably dashed the final bit, trying not to knock into people rudely. I slowed as I neared the carousels, searching for my boyfriend (I was still so giddy over that word) in the crowd, and spotted him easily enough. He was holding two coffees and looking extra fit in tight jeans, a black shirt and a silken patterned button-down over that. But he could have been wearing a trash bag and he still would have stood out. His bright eyes and chiseled jaw were things I would never get tired of admiring. When he finally spotted me, the way his smile grew on his face made something in my chest ache, and soon we were crossing the space between us at the same time, meeting in the middle.

I dropped my carryon to the ground and Taron somehow managed to set the coffees down on top of his own suitcase without spilling a drop before enveloping me in his hug, burying his face against my shoulder as I hugged him tightly back. We stayed like that for a couple of minutes, before finally pulling away just long enough to gaze adoringly at each other. “I know I’ve said this 80 times before, but I’ve missed you so much,” he said softly, tearing up slightly.

“Oh god, stop, you’ll make me cry too,” I laughed, having to wipe at my eyes a bit. “I’ve missed you like crazy also. Funny how that works, even if you talk every day, it’s just not the same.”

“You certainly can’t do this over the phone,” he said, tilting my chin up and leaning in, kissing me sweetly. It was even better than I remembered, the taste of caramel latte still on his lips. I relished it, letting him pull me to him; if anyone gave us looks, we couldn’t care at all. When we broke apart again he hugged me one more time for good measure, before scooping our coffees back up and handing me one. I grabbed my carryon again and we went to find the right carousel.

We chatted excitedly while waiting on my luggage to appear, Taron filling me in on how lovely the place was. I felt a thrill of excitement travel through me; I really was on a full week of vacation, alone with this man. I had no idea what he had planned, but I was so ready to discover it all with him. Taron grabbed my suitcase when it arrived, and for some reason my brain chose that moment to remind me that Jules had slipped a box of condoms inside; I ended up giggling like a lunatic, and Taron looked over at me, his eyebrow raised.

“Nothing, just thought of something funny Jules did is all,” I tried to explain.

“Why am I not surprised?” Taron chuckled as we headed toward the exit, stepping out into the bright sunshine and blue sky. Taron hailed a cab and gave the driver the name and address of the hotel we’d be staying at after we’d loaded in our luggage and clambered in. It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t thought this all through. Oh, right, all alone, in the same room, in the same bed, with Taron, I thought, feeling something seize in my chest. Was I ready for that? Were we? He seemed to sense my tension and reached over to squeeze my hand.

“Alright, love?” he asked me concernedly.

“Yeah, of course,” I said, a bit faintly.

“No, what’s wrong, be honest with me please,” he said, turning my head so I was looking at him.

“I just don’t think we discussed our sleeping arrangements yet,” I managed to stammer out.

“Oh sweetheart,” he said gently. “I booked us a room with two beds, so you wouldn’t be anxious over that,” he replied. He really did know me too well. “I promise you, this isn’t some setup. I wanted you here to enjoy yourself, to relax and have fun with me. Nothing will happen unless you want it to, understand?” he said, almost as if he was reading my mind. I nodded and tried to not feel ashamed of my anxiety. Any other girl would probably jump at the chance and not look back, but overcoming what I’d been through was going to take some time. Taron seemed to understand that and I was so grateful for him.

As we left the airport I couldn’t help but look out the windows around me, taking in the place, especially the historic district of the old city. I took in the stunning architecture and the people in it, baking under the sun. We drove a little bit of a ways out, to the other side of the bay, stopping in front of the Hotel Bellevue. We disembarked from the taxi, Taron paying our fare and then unloading our luggage. We walked inside and I had to gasp. The place screamed luxury and expense, sleek and modern with an unparalleled view of the Adriatic Sea. It was more than I honestly could have hoped for.

“Taron, this is too much,” I said softly after he had checked us in and was leading us up to our room. “I feel like I should be helping you pay for some of this,” I said, but he waved off my concern.

“Nonsense. I invited you here. I chose where I wanted to stay, but I asked you to come along with me. And you deserve the best,” he winked. “Besides, all I do is work. I’m finally taking a moment to rest. I should be able to enjoy what I’ve worked so hard for.”

“Yes you should,” I agreed. “I’m just not a freeloader.”

“Jess,” he said, turning to stop me in my tracks. “I try really hard not to judge people I don’t know but whoever you’ve been with before certainly didn’t know how to treat you well or right. And maybe this is a grand gesture, sure, but who would want to vacation by themselves anyway? This isn’t just for me, it’s for us, and that has nothing to do with money. I don’t care about that. I just want time with you, and that’s not something I’d ever expect you to pay for, alright?” he said, his expression so genuine I could only nod in agreement. “Now, you’re just going to have to get used to a bit of pampering,” he grinned, as we continued on our way to our room.

He let us in and I could only shake my head at how cozy and lovely it was, and the view out the windows and our private balcony were to die for. I couldn’t resist pushing open the doors and stepping outside to take in the view and the sea salt air. I breathed in deeply, resting my hands on the railing and leaning out slightly.

“Like what you see?” Taron grinned, coming up behind me and placing his hands on either side of me on the railing.

“Very much so,” I replied, smiling to myself. It definitely wasn’t so bad to feel him so close to me.

He leaned in close, slowly brushing my hair to one side and placing a couple of sweet kisses on my neck, drawing shivers down my spine as I felt his breath on my skin. “Welcome to Dubrovnik, love.”

Join Taron and Jess on their Dubrovnik adventure and see how their relationship unfolds in Part 8. Read it HERE!

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 51

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

SYNOPSIS:  Jamie has an epiphany about his feelings and Claire’s reaction to his gift. Meanwhile he is actually setting a trap to capture Madame Cheung

 *N.B. This chapter contains some suggestive text.

 THANK YOU all for the lovely comments re the 50th chapter milestone.  There will be a couple more chapters in the Madame Cheung arc and when Jamie and Claire return to Section One, they regroup and see what steps need to be taken to bring the rest of the triad down, for they have yet to capture the Dragon Head – Sun Yee Lok.  THANK YOU for your support of my writing this story and I hope you continue to enjoy where I take our two characters in the chapters to come.

Chapters 1 - 50 can be found at …https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

  CHAPTER 51(S)

It didn’t take long for Jamie to reach the bedroom and sliding Claire down his body they gazed into each other's eyes while the air around them crackled with pent up sexual energy. Her breath caught at the heat swirling in the depths of Jamie’s stare igniting a flame that burned deep inside her.  Drawing his Sassenach nearer, her nipples beaded into tight buds against his chest while he continued to place kisses to her soft responsive lips.  Claire coiled her arms back up around his neck and brought their bodies even closer, then applying the slightest amount of pressure she urged his head down for a hot open-mouth kiss. James Fraser tasted like heaven. His lips were warm and masculine, hot, demanding and oh so intoxicating. Lost to the moment, she sighed as his mouth captured hers compellingly.

Teasing the strands of his hair, Claire brushed the collar of Jamie’s shirt with her fingertips and then dug her hands into his thick mane of curls holding her body close to his so that there was little space between them. She wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of his hands and the heat of his mouth on her naked flesh as he tasted her, but their clothing was in the way. Feeling the distinct ridge of Jamie’s erection, there was no denying the heat of his need and Claire moved provocatively against him. Then with tentative fingers, she gently glided her hand over the front of his trousers. Moaning at her discovery, her hands sought and found the hardened ridge of his body and boldly explored him. A groan escaped from Jamie’s throat too at the boldness of her actions. In retaliation he skimmed her jaw while his lips trailed a steamy path down the side of Claire’s neck. Sensation shot through her with lightning speed and she lost her balance stumbling backwards. Catching her Jamie pressed his love up against the side of the dressing table. Claire moaned but continued to explore her new-found discovery.  Caressing the fabric of his trousers she tormented Jamie as she glided her fingers over the bulge feeling him harden even more. He in turn struggled with his feelings as Claire’s movements were playing havoc with his libido. Boldly unzipping his fly, she slipped her hand beneath his trousers and felt his erection. Claire shivered with desire as her own sex pulsed in response. Aching for Jamie’s touch, she wrapped her fingers around his rock-hard cock and gently stroked the velvety smoothness of him. Jamie sucked in a sharp hiss of breath and lowered his hand down hard over Claire’s halting her movements. Tenderly picking her hand up, he caressed it placing a kiss to her palm. Need raked her insides as he held her gaze captive in a look Claire could not deny.  James Fraser was mesmerized by the boldness of his Sassenach and staring at one another for a brief moment, they both reached out as lips collided once more. With a flurry of movement his hands were dexterous as he quickly removed the clothing that was a barrier to her skin. In no time Claire stood before him in enticing red lace lingerie. The high cut of her panties revealed the lithe length of her long legs while her breasts heaved in the constriction of her bra. The sight of her was nearly his undoing.

Trailing tender caresses down her throat Jamie lingered on her breast while his hands gently cupped her and his lips worked their magic. Claire’s head fell back when he squeezed her breasts and his thumbs searched for her taut nipples protruding through the lace. Capturing his face with her hands she pressed him closer to her flesh.

He kissed her again.

Sliding further down her body Jamie stroked Claire’s thigh were her panties rested on her skin. Placing his hand over the lace he cupped the heat of her groin and provocatively pressed his hand there. Feeling his touch, warmth spread straight to the region where his hand rested. Reluctantly though Jamie left her heaving in want for this more intimate touch as he removed his hand and skimmed it over her stomach while his other hand caressed her warm back. Claire trembled as riotous sensations coursed through her body. She moaned, but still Jamie’s gentle touch ignited the flames of desire and she could do nothing but enjoy the moment. Unclipping the fastening on the front of Claire’s bra her breasts broke free of the restraining garment and Jamie’s hands glided over her heaving chest removing the bra from her body. Capturing the lace on one finger he let it fall to the floor while his eyes held hers prisoner. His lips eventually returned to her chest and once again he caressed the mound of her breast lovingly.

Impatient fingers loosened Jamie’s shirt and pushed if from his frame while he quickly removed the rest of his own clothing.  At the same time, he continued to glide up and over her body in familiar renewal of her velvet soft skin. Tracing his hands back down her thighs Jamie then lifted his woman into his arms as he lavished kisses to her mouth.  Wrapping her legs around him, Claire wove her hands into his hair and held him tightly to her.

Lifting her closer Jamie deepened their kiss, meanwhile Claire’s hands encircled his head holding him enslaved to her mouth as her thighs held him in a vice like grip.  They kissed wildly, then walking her backwards they fell to the bed and Jamie rolled his Sassenach beneath him.

The next morning…

Piercing blue eyes caressed Claire’s body as he watched the rise and fall of her chest in peaceful slumber. Leisurely running his hands over the soft skin of her back Jamie felt every gradation of her body, a body he knew so well. Claire’s kiss-bruised lips also tempted him and he tenderly placed a chaste caress to her soft mouth. Although a beckoning raw need for her once again darted through his veins, Jamie didn’t want to wake her, but the warmth of his Sassenach pressed against him as she lay asleep in his arms was oh so tempting. Sighing, Claire inched closer to his warmth.

His eyes travelled down the column of her throat before resting on her hand that rose and fell on his chest. Capturing it in his, Jamie drew her closer as his thoughts turned to the gift and her reaction to it. The spontaneity of her kisses last night when he’d given her the watch still played on his mind. He had felt a kick in the stomach when he’d seen her unshed tears and the impulsiveness of her reaction had captured his heart. His act of kindness had overwhelmed her. He didn’t know what had possessed him to barter for the watch ... he only knew at the time that he had seen how much Claire had loved the timepiece and he’d wanted her to have it. Her response only endorsed his decision to do so. He loved the way he felt at her reaction and was glad he’d done something out of the ordinary. So many times, he had hurt her, betrayed her trust, made Claire question the reasons why he did things ... but with this one gift he had somehow redeemed some of his past indiscretions. It felt good. He was captivated by this woman who was his world.  He never realised that his gift would evoke such a profound response from Claire and he was overwhelmed with how her reaction made him feel as well.  It was just a watch, albeit one that she had admired but when he saw it, he knew why she had loved it. He suddenly realised that it was not just a gift to his Sassenach but it was a token of his love that he’d bought it for her. This was obviously what Claire had felt in receiving the gift.  He would never figure women out and especially not this woman, but he had to acknowledge it was why she had so suddenly welled up with tears and emotion.  His gift had touched her heart and in return it had made him introspective.  This wonderful woman was worming her way into his heart. He was falling in love with Claire Beauchamp more and more and for the first time in his life he could admit this to himself.

Ever since he had been recruited to Section One his life had been mapped out for him from the get go. He was a cold-blooded killer who had become desensitised to the notion of love.  He’d always seen himself as an unlovable man because that is what Section had made him.  He was a ruthless, calculated assassin and their penultimate cold operative who was devoid of any feelings or compassion and empathy.  He’d never once questioned the why of his actions, that is until Claire was recruited to Section One and was given to him to train. He always knew that he was not worthy of love but this amazing woman obviously saw in him what he did not of his character. This had always been so perplexing because she had come into his life and turned it upside down. He didn’t quite understand how Claire could feel the way she did. 

But now, his perception had changed.  Suddenly everything made complete sense. He had clarity about his feelings for this woman that he had long suppressed but which Claire had been able to tap into. His Sassenach was unlike any other woman he had ever met. Little by little she was indeed breaking down the barriers he had erected surrounding his heart … ones which he thought were impregnable.  Perhaps he was beginning to see what she saw … he was worthy of love after all.

Jamie pulled Claire into a tighter embrace. She played such havoc with his inner demons and sorely tested his control, but having her in his arms and feeling her warmth against his body was comforting. Jamie bent forwards. Brushing Claire’s hair away from her temple he smelt her inimitable scent, a smell so intoxicating that it drove him to distraction. His Sassenach was so beautiful ... if only she knew the power, she had over him.

 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As he watched her sleeping, Jamie felt his body harden in reaction to his thoughts and her nearness. He tried to curtail his growing libido by reflecting on her deep cover mission with Madame Cheung. 

It had been difficult but his presence had helped considerably. The Rising Dragons triad had many facets and this Madame Cheung had been involved in the very area that Claire abhorred. She was vulnerable where there were innocents being abused and this mission was beginning to take its toll on her emotions.  However, their end game scenario would soon bring Madame Cheung’s reign to an end and severely incapacitate an important part of the triad’s business and revenue.  Not only that, but the girls in her employ would be set free to return to their families or to start a new life free of the shackles of the triad. Claire would certainly relish the belief that they had achieved freedom for the girls in servitude and that their predicament was no longer.   However, their failure to locate the elusive Sun Yee Lok would necessitate further missions until he was brought down. Once they returned to Section One, they would be able to regroup before the next phase that he knew would come. What this may involve was unknown but anything was possible.  More than likely Claire would go undercover once more given her past experience but that was up to Madeline and Operations to decide the best course of action.  He was thankful though that his Sassenach wouldn’t be involved in another deep cover mission like that with Madame Cheung on her own.  Being so close to the Rising Dragons again would be far more dangerous for Claire especially coming on the heels of this mission. Another deep cover mission could put her in jeopardy and Section could ill afford for their operative to be compromised at such a crucial stage in the big picture.

Operations had said they were working this like an onion before capturing the Rising Dragons’ leader, but there were many layers yet to peel away that would require patience and perseverance. 

Leaning into her body, Jamie gently traced Claire’s curves with his hands while his eyes caressed her delicate features. He kissed her and stroked his fingertips along her arm. His body began to betray him as he felt the surging need radiate though him. His Sassenach’s nearness was sheer torture. He wanted her. Feeling the tightening in his groin, Jamie’s breathing became more laboured and when he shifted his hips and pressed them closer to her warmth a moan echoed mournfully in their room. 

Claire stirred. Instinctively she moved against him half opening her sleepy eyes. Closing them again, she snuggled closer to Jamie’s warmth as the throaty, soft timbre of her voice murmured his name.

“Jamie?” 

“Aye?” Opening her sleepy eyes at the husky sound of his voice, Claire peered into the fathomless blue eyes of James Fraser. She could easily drown in those eyes that seemed to see deep into her soul.  Surely Jamie knew that she adored him and loved him beyond comprehension.  Claire smiled; her eyes lingering on his beckoning mouth. He grinned back at her then gently kissed her forehead. Reaching out, she tenderly stroked his stubbled face before running her fingertips along his tempting lips. They parted and he captured her wayward index finger caressing it with the tip of his tongue before reluctantly releasing it. Tracing Claire’s petal soft lips Jamie closed the distance between them gently stroking her face before capturing her mouth in a gentle kiss. “Good morning,” he replied in a hushed voice. “Good morning.” “We have to get up mo ghràidh.” “Do we?” Claire replied mischievously feeling his painful erection throbbing against her soft skin. Jamie watched as a beaming smile crossed her face. He couldn’t help himself. With her laughter echoing in the room he rolled his woman beneath him capturing her mouth in a punishing kiss that silenced them both as desire for each other consumed them. Later that morning ...

Wandering into the breakfast nook, Claire saw that Madame Cheung was already there. “Good Morning Madame”

“Claire ... Where is Monsieur Le Comte? He’s not with you ... Hmmm?” “No, he went for a swim in the pool.” “Ahhh ... Needed some cooling off, did he?” She intonated slyly noticing that her protégé was a little dishevelled this morning. “But of course ... Madame!” Madame Cheung laughed out loud at her hidden innuendo. “Good ... Come sit down.” Claire joined her at the breakfast table and the woman watched as she moved her food around on her plate seemingly lost in thought. “What ... No appetite my dear? Or are you thinking about that intoxicating man Monsieur Le Comte?  It appears that you are entertaining him well judging by that rosy flush I see on your cheeks.” “No ... you actually,” Claire replied glancing at the woman sitting opposite her. “Me?” She replied somewhat bemused. “Yes ... about where you grew up. Were you like the girls in your employ? Oh, lots of things really.” She paused before adding, “I grew up on the streets in many different places ...” “Yes ... I know.” Claire looked at her with surprise. “Did that happen to you too?” “Don’t be embarrassed Claire ... I recognized immediately that you were from the streets. I too had a poor upbringing.  I pretty much grew up on the street myself.” “Did you? Not that it shows ... Well, perhaps a little in the eyes. You’ve done very well.” Jamie had not yet made an appearance on the terrace and was listening intensely to their conversation on his frequency channel, hoping that Claire wouldn’t mention Madame Cheung’s procurement of the young girls they had seen at her club.  What he did know was that she was baiting her into revealing her plans for the next few days. He lowered his head, and began worrying his chin with his fingers absently waiting for their conversation to turn towards the information they required to set the mission profile for her capture into action.

“One thing about the streets is that you learn to take care of yourself.  That some brains and a little luck … You’re a fighter like me. You’ve survived Claire and now that you are working for the Rising Dragons, we will take care of you.”

“Is that how you came to be in the triad?”

“In a fashion … yes it was.  I worked my way up the ranks when my potential was recognised and I have never looked back.  I see a similar projection for you in the triad Claire like myself.”

“Thank you.  I’m very happy working for you Madame.”

She smiled at her reply.  “That is good.”

“Madame Cheung?  I was wondering if you would like to join Monsieur Le Comte and I on a trip to Koh Samui tomorrow?” “Unfortunately, I have to stay in Bangkok for the next two days.” “Business?” “Does it really matter?” “So where are you going if you don’t mind me asking?” Claire queried looking for the intel that they need to set the wheels in motion for her capture. “No, not at all my dear. I have to attend to some business at the club ... I’ll be there for the next couple of days. But you enjoy yourself at Koh Samui tomorrow ... anyway you don’t need my company when you have Monsieur Le Comte. Now do you?” “No Madame ... I can learn more about him that may be of use to the Rising Dragons.” “Exactly ... Perhaps you can take in some sights around Bangkok as well. I’ll have Magnus prepare the limousine.” Just then Jamie entered the terrace and made his way towards the two women. Looking up, Madame Cheung noticed his approach. “Oh, here comes Monsieur Le Comte now.” “Bonjour mes demoiselles - Good morning ladies.” “Good morning ... Come sit down and have some breakfast, or would you prefer juice?” “Coffee will be fine.” “Claire was just saying that you planned on going to Koh Samui tomorrow.” “Oui.” “And today? ... Perhaps some sightseeing?” “That’s what I’d like to discuss Madame. Perhaps I could come to the club and go over our business propositions. I’m sure Claire could relax here by the pool.” “Sounds good to me,” Claire replied. “Certainly Monsieur Le Comte.  Splendid idea. The quicker we go over our business agreement the quicker we can set things in motion ... don’t you agree?” “Definitely.” “Excellent ... but come this afternoon ... then you can spend time with Claire as well.” Madame Cheung smiled cagily ... “I don’t want to monopolise your time ... after all you are paying for her services.” “Of course.” “I’ll see you later then.” “Yes. Yes, you will.”  Jamie replied with a disguised undercurrent in his tone that was foreboding for this woman.

  *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued

[thesickpanda]

What Do You Do When A Loved One Changes For the Worse?

For the past couple of weeks I have been having constant nightmares about a particular friend. He is on a self-destructive path and his harmful behaviours are affecting me and those around him.

 My partner has insisted that I write this all down as a way to expunge it. It's going to be a while before I see my psychologist, so I guess a diary entry will have to do in the meantime.

 Long story short, in the past 10 months, I have made some huge changes to how I relate to others. The extremely abridged version is that I was a doormat most of my life and came from a family of emotional bullies. They set the baseline for what was my normal and so I tended to find myself in very toxic friendships throughout my adult life. I put up with shit from other people that literally no one else would (I was often the only friend of these toxic people) and those relationships always ended horribly with me feeling like I was somehow the bad guy when I was the victim. It took many years of therapy and a lot of introspection to realise that. I acknowledged my own shortcomings and flaws and where I had contributed to the downfall of certain relationships. But equally, I let go of the guilt of ending relationships that were exploitative, manipulative and cruel. I finally understood that having personal boundaries was not only beneficial to me but also to those who would either intentionally or accidentally exploit me and my giving nature. The ultimate test came toward the end of last year when had to lay down some very firm boundaries with a close relative. We are still in communication, but now I decide when we talk and what we talk about. I've had to do this in order to protect us both. Interestingly, limiting exposure to her has been the best thing for the relationship, as we are now getting along better on the whole. I now know firsthand how important boundary setting is for the longevity of any relationship, especially the complicated ones.

 I mention all this, because it started a process for me. I really took on board the advice of a Buddhist monk who told me to surround myself with wise people. I realised that some people in life were wholly negative influences.  I'm talking about help rejecting complainers, emotional leeches and hapless drifters daydreaming through their own lives with nothing to give.

 I have put up with so much shit from people over the years, it is not funny. I am now purging one-sided relationships that no longer serve me in any way. I'm perfectly willing and able to forgive people their flaws and faults if they are also counterbalanced with good traits. But so often I seem to have attracted people who are mean-spirited or haughty or completely unaware of their own crap and I just don't have the spoons to deal with those individuals anymore.

 And herein lies the rub. It has, until recently, been an overwhelmingly positive experience for me to learn how to set my own boundaries and choose my friends more carefully. My last birthday celebration was a testament to that. I felt truly loved by the people who came to my little party and I felt seen and appreciated for who I really was. I want to be forging closer relationships with my true friends, those who have stuck by me and given back as much as I have given them. I'm fortunate to have good people in my life, but I haven't had as much time to dedicate to them because I was so busy pouring love into those aforementioned toxic relationships (which are often all-consuming).   I'm changing that now, and it feels good.

 But recently, it forced me to acknowledge something I have been steadfastly refusing to face up to. I have a friend in my life who I have known for well over a decade who has been troubling me a great deal over the past couple of years. I want to clarify that this friend is not a bad person. They are not toxic toward me in the way that other people have been. They are not deliberately trying to torment me, manipulate or exploit me. In fact, he has at times been exceptionally generous. He has trouble with expressing emotion so most of that generosity comes out in financial gestures, which complicates things. I'm disabled and unemployed and so I don't have any disposable income of my own. This friend knows that and has spoilt me with some really nice gifts over the years, as well bailing me out of financial hardship at critical times.  In that regard, I owe him a lot. And that, in large part, has been why I have remained friends with him. I feel indebted. I've also stayed on in the relationship because I remember who they used to be. When we first met he was bright, switched on, optimistic and ambitious. He had goals and was brave and interested in the world around him. He came from a community of kind, loving people, many of whom I still call friends to this day. He surrounded himself with these people and even flew across oceans to International gatherings to be there with them. I saw so much potential and love in this person and I fell head over heels for him. I fall in love with people all the time. I see the best in them and want the best for them. Sometimes it means I come on a bit strong and intense and I have tried my best to reel that back. (It can be a bit overbearing and intimidating for people). But ultimately, I just love people with my whole heart and want to see them thrive. This friend and I connected very deeply on that level and I honestly thought we’d be best buds for life.

 The problem is that we have both changed a great deal since those early years. I have done a tremendous amount of work on myself. I have seen numerous therapists, completed mindfulness courses, read self-help books, joined support groups, participated in countless programs for people with chronic pain, and just generally tried to work on my shit. I know that sounds crass, but it's something we all need to do in order to grow. We need to recognise our own issues and bullshit and do our best to address it. No one is ever going to be perfect and we shouldn't strive to be; however, if we have character flaws that are outwardly hurting others, we need to acknowledge and work on those. We also need to stop being self-destructive. I have never been one to run away from a personal challenge. I dealt with my grief after losing my dad; I faced my fears head on when my anxiety reached fever pitch, and overcame them. I took big risks when I moved country twice. I have been brave every day of my life when I wake up with three chronic illnesses and a mental illness and somehow get through the day. I have been productive and have given back to the community as much as I possibly can. I am driven toward self-improvement and self-love as much as I am committed to making the world a better place. Even though I intend to hang up my feminist activist hat at the end of this year, I still want to be involved in community activism, primarily environmental, in the years to follow. I can never not to do something for the betterment of others. It's in my nature and it gives my life meaning and purpose. I also want to pursue creative exploits, do more travel and see what else the world has to offer.

 My friend, on the other hand, has resolutely given up on all of that. He too had dreams, goals and ambitions, and he hasn’t realised any of them, nor put any serious effort towards them, either.

 I can remember when it happened.

 A few months after I moved to Australia to be with my partner, I visited my friend. I was so excited to see him as it had been a while. But he was angry and bitter the entire time I was there. He lashed out at his mother, his best friend and at me. In quiet moments I tried to understand why he was so upset and he finally blurted that he wanted what his siblings had: a family. He wanted a loving, committed relationship, a career and children. But he was still working at the same grocery shop he’d been at since he was 15. He had dropped out of his degree. He put absolutely no effort into dating, or working on his appalling personal hygiene or appearance. I told him that if he wanted those things, he would have to work for them, just like everyone else. He threw up his hands in a fit and said he didn't want to. He just wanted them to fall from the sky. We got into big arguments over it because this friend of mine was so spoilt and so privileged. He was still living at home with his parents who gave him everything he needed.  He was able bodied and, despite punishing his body with a terrible diet, reasonably well. He could hoard his money and then spend it on conventions and video games, because he didn't have to pay any rent or any bills. His parents put up with some pretty nasty behaviour from him, including his refusal to do housework. I hate to say it, but he was acting like the entitled millennial male we feminists get so frustrated over: expecting the beautiful wife, house and job to fall into his lap without having to do any work towards it. We nearly broke up during that trip. Indeed, I needed a few months away from him before I could recover from what was quite a shock. I felt resented. And it wasn't just me; he was resenting everyone else too. His mother was devastated when I left early, because at the time I was 50% of his friendship base. I adore his mother and sympathized with her position, but I told her she needed to stop enabling her son and give him a kick up the butt he needed. She refused.

 After that, he simmered down a bit. He didn't bring it up anymore. He wasn't angry and he didn't lash out. He just went numb. I managed to talk him into doing a degree in creative writing, which he was once passionate about.  (He completed that degree, but has done absolutely nothing with it since.) Oh, he sometimes came along to things his best friend, my partner and I went to, although he never expressed much interest in those activities. He  made silly jokes and he was still fairly personable, but he never wanted to address the elephant in the room. Anytime I tried to bring it up he shut down, became silent and grumpy and otherwise sulked.  He never had anything to say about it. He just went quiet and looked miserable. "But you told me that you had life goals! That you certainly didn't want to still be working at the same shop by the time you turned 30. You said that you wanted love in your life! What are you doing about it?" His reply was to grumble or make grunting noises. He just looked like he was suffering through a lecture waiting for it to be over then acting like nothing had ever happened. But I still remembered who he used to be and what he wanted from life. He had just given up on that and on himself. He put it all in the too hard basket. It took a number of years for me to realise that he wasn't interested in having any semblance of a life outside of that shop he worked at four hours a day, five days a week. He frequented the same fast food place every day and spent all the rest of his free time sleeping or on the computer, mostly on Reddit/gaming forums, porn sites and otherwise very toxic environments totally unlike the one we had found each other in. He would spend days composing SJW posts defending issues to Internet trolls, issues he did not champion nor put any work towards supporting in real life. He would then relish in telling me how he had trolled other people. He stopped writing science fiction short stories and started writing porn. He stopped reading books. He stopped watching shows. The only interests he still had were anime and a few PC games. He wasn’t even interested in the fandom we had originally met through. It became increasingly difficult to find things to talk about.

 While I was off becoming a passionate feminist activist, he was digitally surrounding himself with the same sorts of people who sent us rape threats. He started using misogynistic slurs and watching harem anime, some of which he showed me honestly thinking I’d like it! (Occasionally he got it right and found an anime that we both really liked and bonded over, but that has become less frequent over the years. He doesn’t like to watch anyone else’s suggestions and wants to always be the one showing you something he has previously seen. It is vexing.)  Before long, I couldn't hold regular conversations with him. He didn't follow the news, wasn't engaged in the outside world, and did not have any real passions. Outside of a limited range of anime (i.e. not horribly offensive, racist and sexist anime), the only other thing we had in common were a few videogames that we played together. And even then, he would occasionally get angry at losing and use sexist or foul language that I found very upsetting. Most of the time, when I called him out on it, he would apologise and stop… But soon enough it would creep back in.

  Basically if I had met this person today, I would not be interested in pursuing a friendship with him. He is the type of individual who is going nowhere, unable or unwilling to recognize his own bullshit.

 He can be very generous to his friends, especially in terms of money, which he has a comfortable amount of. But in other ways, he is intensely selfish. He never helped his parents at the family home. Appalingly, he didn't even lift a finger to help his father when he was sick with cancer. He was utterly disinterested and I needed to call his mom to found out how his dad was doing, even though he visited them for dinner weekly!). A few years ago he finally moved into a house he rents with his best friend. The house belongs to his sister, is being let out at a very cheap rate despite being a stunning home, and she is trusting him to take care of it. But most of that work falls to his best friend. He frequently skips his share of chores, leaves a mess and otherwise exhausts his poor friend who works 60 hour work weeks and is in part time study. My friend works 20 hours a week but claims he has “no time” to do basic household maintenance. He’s a self-professed “lazy bastard”. (He doesn’t see this as a problem…). I’ve lost count of the amount of arguments they have had over it. I do not mean this to sound funny, but his best friend is more like a beleaguered, 1950’s housewife, and he takes him horribly for granted and can be outright terrible to him.  He puts him down and is frankly abusive towards him.  I have long wanted his best friend to move out, because he is a good person and I Iove him too, but he is enmeshed in the relationship with my friend and cannot see what a bad influence he is.  It’s awful to watch. I know he’s capable of keeping the place clean, because many years ago we lived together, and after one argument about his messy habits, he cleaned and tidied up just fine. He just could not be bothered to do it for anyone anymore.

 In short, he's not the man I fell in love with... and I don't know what to do.

 This all reached a boiling point in the last couple of weeks. I have been trying to get off a drug called Lyrica which has some very awful withdrawal effects. My friend is well aware of this because I have told him all about it and he has been supportive of my getting off them. However, my partner needs to take time off work each time I make a dose drop to ensure that I don't self-harm or get too terrified by the psychological symptoms (such as time loss and suicidal ideation). Unfortunately, he did not have enough leave saved up to do that this time, so we invited my friend to come stay with me and be there for me during what was going to be a very difficult experience. We trusted that he would be able to see me through the next 10 days.

  I'm well aware that it's quite a big ask of anyone to help someone through a drug withdrawal process. It is not pleasant and if you don't have any experience in it it can be quite daunting. That said, the way things played out forced me to fully acknowledge the breathtaking emotional immaturity of my friend. Because he has locked himself away from life and avoided any and all hardships, he doesn't know what to do when faced with any sort of adversity. I was very anxious and a bit intense during the withdrawals, but I didn't try to kill myself or do anything self-destructive. I did experience time loss, which frightened me, and depression. That alone seemed to stun him. He just didn't know what to do. And I can forgive that. The problem was that his own behaviour triggered me at an especially raw time. For example, while I was silently battling dark voices in my mind telling me that I was a waste of space and life wasn't worth living, he would say things like "just die", "Die in a fire", "I hope you go to hell" and other callous remarks made “in jest”. We have always playfully bantered, but his responses to that banter have become increasingly malicious over the years. It's because of the community he surrounds himself with. Those are the sorts of things 15-year-old boys say to each other. And in terms of emotional growth, he has actually regressed to that age. He was never this mean-spirited when I met him in his early 20s. My partner took him aside one evening and politely explained to him that saying things like that to a person who is battling suicidal thoughts is not a good idea. He understood that but was unable to censor himself. He just kept doing it. He showed me anime that was so male gazey it put me off. Knowing that anime was one of the only things we could bond over, I actually looked up a recommended list of feminist anime with good storylines that we could both enjoy. But because he doesn't like to watch things he hasn't himself chosen, it was difficult. He indulged me a little but then wanted to go back to watching an anime he had already seen. He didn't seem to understand that many of his choices in recent years have been offensive and upsetting to me, and I was already a raw nerve. I kept trying to explain this to him without hurting his feelings but he seemed mystified all the same. Going for walks was one of the best ways to combat the mental struggle I was going through, and he did indulge me in a few of those, but nowhere near as many as I needed. He hates exercise.

His horrible hygiene and bad habits were also triggering my very real OCD. OCD plagues me when my anxiety is high and so it took tremendous restraint not to blow a fuse over the copious amounts of Coca-Cola cans collecting around the house, disgusting farts he dropped (and then laughed about for literally 10 minutes each time), his wearing the same pair of trousers for two weeks and the underwear he reused. He stank. I was in an enclosed space with someone who was putting no effort into making my experience more comfortable when that experience was very literally life-threatening. In the end, I had to do emotional labour to hide just how much I was suffering from him, because it made him uncomfortable or brought out some of his worst behaviours. He physically poked, prodded and elbowed me when I begged him not to. He said it was how he expressed affection. I told him it set off my anxiety. He didn't stop. It was only when my partner came home, in the late hours of the evening, when I could in whispers express my frustration. He was concerned because he too had expected my friend to rise to the challenge much better than he had. We were both disappointed. My partner and my friend get along really well and have never had any conflict in their relationship, but my partner was annoyed at the way he was acting.

 I had struggled with anxiety and depression in the early years of our friendship and even though he sometimes floundered then, he still did a damn sight better than he seems capable of doing now. I cannot overstate this. The man has emotionally regressed to a teenager. He is less mature and less kind and less switched on than he was in his early 20s. He is in his mid-30s now but he does not act his age in any sense. By the time he left, I was both relieved and distraught. I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. The realisation was dawning on me that I could no longer have a meaningful relationship with him. He had made that impossible. He was not someone I could rely on emotionally in any capacity, or talk to in any depth. I was going to have to treat him as a fair weather friend. He had rendered himself incapable of being anything more.

 So that is why I have been having nightmares. During his time here and in the weeks following, I have dreamt about being trapped with him and trying to get him to either leave me alone or behave better, to my great vexation. I wake from the dreams emotionally exhausted and tired. We have communicated a couple of times since then on our regular gaming nights. The last one left me cold. He was losing to one of the female characters and called her a fucking bitch. It made me flinch and then it made me anxious. I left after that game and went to bed and had more nightmares.

 I have tried to address a lot of this crap in him. He doesn't want to talk about it. He makes some attempt to censor his behaviour around me, but really, he shouldn't have to. His behaviour just shouldn't be this bad. And I have found myself swallowing down so much stuff that in every other sphere of my life I would not tolerate. As a feminist, it has given me a level of cognitive dissonance I can’t even begin to explain.

 Look, I don't think it is wise for people to put themselves in a complete bubble with only like-minded individuals. Echo chambers can be dangerous. But I do think you need some things in common and a base level of respect. And I have learned that it is often hard to get respect from people who do not respect themselves.

 I'm not sure what to do from here. I do still love him, despite all of this, and I don't want to lose him. But I'm not sure how to make this friendship sustainable. My partner has suggested that Friend and I should no longer spend one-on-one time with each other, and I strongly agree with that. Instead, when we go to visit him in his city or he comes to visit us, we should only ever be together as a group. My partner is really good at moderating this friend of mine. They have an easy-going relationship and when there’s a group dynamic he tends to behave a little better. But I can't help but feel a great sense of loss. I feel like the person I connected with all those years ago is gone. I feel like I'm keeping something going out of respect for that person, not because it is something that especially benefits me, at least on an emotional level. While I can never repay him for all the monetary gestures and support over the years, I have given him all the love I could possibly give. And honestly, you can’t put a dollar value on that. I'm just going to have to reel that back, because I can't get entangled with someone hell bent on self-destruction. I've been close to people like that, including family members, all my life and it has only brought me heart ache. I need to protect myself. I'm just figuring out the best way to do that, and it's really hard…

[ifuckinglovestvincent]

Switching Lanes With St. Vincent

By Molly Young

January 22, 2019

Jacket (men’s), $4,900, pants (men’s), $2,300, by Dior / Men shoes, by Christian Louboutin / Rings (throughout) by Cartier

On a cold recent night in Brooklyn, St. Vincent appeared onstage in a Saint Laurent smoking jacket to much clapping and hooting, gave the crowd a deadpan look, and said, “Without being reductive, I'd like to say that we haven't actually done anything yet.” Pause. “So let's do something.”

She launched into a cover of Lou Reed's “Perfect Day”: an arty torch-song version that made you really wonder whom she was thinking about when she sang it. This was the elusive chanteuse version of St. Vincent, at least 80 percent leg, with slicked-back hair and pale, pale skin. She belted, sipped from a tumbler of tequila (“Oh, Christ on a cracker, that's strong”), executed little feints and pounces, flung the mic cord away from herself like a filthy sock, and spat on the stage a bunch of times. Nine parts Judy Garland, one part GG Allin.

If the Garland-Allin combination suggests that St. Vincent is an acquired taste, she's one that has been acquired by a wide range of fans. The crowd in Brooklyn included young women with Haircuts in pastel fur and guys with beards of widely varying intentionality. There was a woman of at least 90 years and a Hasidic guy in a tall hat, which was too bad for whoever sat behind him. There were models, full nuclear families, and even a solitary frat bro. St. Vincent brings people together.

If you chart the career of Annie Clark, which is St. Vincent's civilian name, you will see what start-up founders and venture capitalists call “hockey-stick growth.” That is, a line that moves steadily in a northeast direction until it hits an “inflection point” and shoots steeply upward. It's called hockey-stick growth because…it looks like a hockey stick.

Dress, by Balmain

The toe of the stick starts with Marry Me, Clark's debut solo album, which came out a decade ago and established a few things that would become essential St. Vincent traits: her ability to play a zillion instruments (she's credited on the album with everything from dulcimer to vibraphone), her highbrow streak (Shakespeare citations), her goofy streak (“Marry me!” is an Arrested Development bit), and her oceanic library of musical references (Kate Bush, Steve Reich, uh…D'Angelo!). The blade of the stick is her next four albums, one of them a collaboration with David Byrne, all of them confirming her presence as an enigma of indie pop and a guitar genius. The stick of the stick took a non-musical detour in 2016, when Clark was photographed canoodling with (now ex-) girlfriend Cara Delevingne at Taylor Swift's mansion, followed a few months later by pictures of Clark holding hands with Kristen Stewart. That brought her to the realm of mainstream paparazzi-pictures-in-the-Daily-Mail celebrity. Finally, the top of the stick is Masseduction, the 2017 album she co-produced with Jack Antonoff, which revealed St. Vincent to be not only experimental and beguiling but capable of turning out incorrigible bangers.

Masseduction made the case that Clark could be as much a pop star as someone like Sia or Nicki Minaj—a performer whose idiosyncrasies didn't have to be tamped down for mainstream success but could actually be amplified. The artist Bruce Nauman once said he made work that was like “going up the stairs in the dark and either having an extra stair that you didn't expect or not having one that you thought was going to be there.” The idea applies to Masseduction: Into the familiar form of a pop song Clark introduces surprising missteps, unexpected additions and subtractions. The album reached No. 10 on the Billboard 200. The David Bowie comparisons got louder.

This past fall, she released MassEducation (not quite the same title; note the addition of the letter a), which turned a dozen of the tracks into stripped-down piano songs. Although technically off duty after being on tour for nearly all of 2018, Clark has been performing the reduced songs here and there in small venues with her collaborator, the composer and pianist Thomas Bartlett. Whereas the Masseduction tour involved a lot of latex, neon, choreographed sex-robot dance moves, and LED screens, these recent shows have been comparatively austere. When she performed in Brooklyn, the stage was empty, aside from a piano and a side table. There were blue lights, a little piped-in fog for atmosphere, and that was it. It looked like an early-'90s magazine ad for premium liquor: art-directed, yes, but not to the degree that it Pinterested itself.

Coat, (men’s) $8,475, by Versace / Shoes, by Christian Louboutin / Tights, by Wolford

The performance was similarly informal. Midway through one song, Clark forgot the lyrics and halted. “It takes a different energy to be performing [than] to sit in your sweatpants watching Babylon Berlin,” she said. “Wherever I am, I completely forget the past, and I'm like. ‘This is now.’ And sometimes this means forgetting song lyrics. So, if you will…tell me what the second fucking verse is.”

Clark has only a decade in the public eye behind her, but she's accomplished a good amount of shape-shifting. An openness to the full range of human expression, in fact, is kind of a requirement for being a St. Vincent fan. This is a person who has appeared in the front row at Chanel and also a person who played a gig dressed as a toilet, a person profiled in Vogue and on the cover of Guitar World.

The day before her Brooklyn show, I sat with Clark to find out what it's like to be utterly unstructured, time-wise, after a long stretch of knowing a year in advance that she had to be in, like, Denmark on July 4 and couldn't make plans with friends.

“I've been off tour now for three weeks,” she said. “When I say ‘off,’ I mean I didn't have to travel.”

This doesn't mean she hasn't traveled—she went to L.A. to get in the studio with Sleater-Kinney and also hopped down to Texas, where she grew up—just that she hasn't been contractually obligated to travel. What else did she do on her mini-vacation?

“I had the best weekend last weekend. I woke up and did hot Pilates, and then I got a bunch of new modular synths, and I set 'em up, and I spent ten hours with modular synths. Plugging things in. What happens when I do this? I'm unburdened by a full understanding of what's going on, so I'm very willing to experiment.”

Coat, by Boss

Jacket, and coat, by Boss / Necklace, by Cartier

Like a child?

“Exactly. Did you ever get those electronics kits as a kid for like 20 bucks from RadioShack? Where you connect this wire to that one and a light bulb turns on? It's very much like that.”

There's an element of chaos, she said, that makes synth noodling a neat way to stumble on melodies that she might not have consciously assembled. She played with the synths by herself all day. “I don't stop, necessarily,” she said, reflecting on what the idea of “vacation” means to someone for whom “job” and “things I love to do” happen to overlap more or less exactly. “I just get to do other things that are really fun. I'm in control of my time.” She had plans to see a show at the New Museum, read books, play music and see movies alone, always sitting on the aisle so she could make a quick escape if necessary. But she will probably keep working. St. Vincent doesn't have hobbies.

When it manifests in a person, this synergy between life and work is an almost physically perceptible quality, like having brown eyes or one leg or being beautiful. Like beauty, it's a result of luck, and a quality that can invoke total despair in people who aren't themselves allotted it. This isn't to say that Clark's career is a stroke of unearned fortune but that her skills and character and era and influences have collided into a perfect storm of realized talent. And to have talent and realize that talent and then be beloved by thousands for exactly the thing that is most special about you: Is there anything a person could possibly want more? Is this why Annie Clark glows? Or is it because she's super pale? Or was it because there was a sound coming through the window where we sat that sounded thrillingly familiar?

“Is Amy Sedaris running by?” Clark asked, her spine straightening. A man with a boom mic was visible on the sidewalk outside. Another guy in a baseball cap issued instructions to someone beyond the window. Someone said “Action!” and a figure in vampire makeup and a clown wig streaked across the sidewalk. Someone said “Cut!” and Clark zipped over for a look. It was, in fact, Amy Sedaris, her clown wig bobbing in the 44-degree breeze. The mic operator was gagging with laughter. It seemed like a good omen, this sighting, like the New York City version of Groundhog Day: If an Amy Sedaris streaks across your sight line in vampire makeup, spring will arrive early.

Blazer (men’s) $1,125, by Paul Smith

Another thing Clark does when off tour is absorb all the input that she misses when she's locked into performance mode. On a Monday afternoon, she met artist Lisa Yuskavage at an exhibition of her paintings at the David Zwirner gallery in Chelsea. Yuskavage was part of a mini-boom of figurative painting in the '90s, turning out portraits of Penthouse centerfolds and giant-jugged babes with Rembrandt-esque skill. It made sense that Clark wanted to meet her: Both women make art about the inner lives of female figures, both are sorcerers of technique, both are theatrical but introspective, both have incendiary style. The gallery was a white cube, skylit, with paintings around the perimeter. Yuskavage and Clark wandered through at a pace exclusive to walking tours of cultural spaces, which is to say a few steps every 10 to 15 seconds with pauses between for the proper amount of motionless appreciation.

The paintings were small, all about the size of a human head, and featured a lot of nipples, tufted pudenda, tan lines, majestic asses, and protruding tongues. “I like the idea of possessing something by painting it,” Yuskavage said. “That's the way I understand the world. Like a dog licking something.”

Clark looked at the works with the expression people make when they're meditating. She was wearing elfin boots, black pants, and a shirt with a print that I can only describe as “funky”—“funky” being an adjective that looks good on very few people, St. Vincent being one of them—and sipped from a cup of espresso furnished by a gallery minion. After she finished the drink, there was a moment when she looked blankly at the saucer, unsure what to do with it, and then stuck it in the breast pocket of her funky shirt for the rest of the tour.

A painting called Sweetpuss featured a bubble-butted blonde in beaded panties with nipples so upwardly erect they actually resembled little boners. Yuskavage based the underwear on a pair of real underwear that she'd constructed herself from colored balls and string. “I've got the beaded panties if you ever need 'em,” she said to Clark. “They might fit you. They're tiny.”

Earrings, by Erickson Beamon

“I'm picturing you going to the Garment District,” Clark said.

“There was a lot of going to the Garment District.”

As they completed their lap around the white cube, Clark interjected with questions—what year was this? were you considering getting into film? how long did these sittings take? what does “mise-en-scène” mean?—but mainly listened. And she is a good listener: an inquisitive head tilter, an encouraging nodder, a non-fidgeter, a maker of eye contact. She found analogues between painting and music. When Yuskavage mourned the death of lead white paint (due to its poisonous qualities, although, as the artist pointed out, “It's not that big a deal to not get lead poisoning; just don't eat the paint”), Clark compared it to recording's transition from tape to digital.

“Back in the day, if you wanted to hear something really reverberant”—she clapped; it reverberated—“you'd have to be in a room like this and record it, or make a reverb chamber,” Clark said. “Now we have digital plug-ins where you can say, ‘Oh, I want the acoustic resonance of the Sistine Chapel.’ Great. Somebody's gone and sampled that and created an algorithm that sounds like you're in the Sistine Chapel.”

Lately, she said, she's been way more into devices that betray their imperfections. That are slightly out of tune, or capable of messing up, or less forgiving of human intervention. “Air moving through a room,” Clark said. “That's what's interesting to me.”

They kept pacing. The paintings on the wall evolved. Conversation turned to what happens when you grow as an artist and people respond by flipping out.

“I always find it interesting when someone wants you to go back to ‘when you were good,’ ” Yuskavage said. “This is why we liked you.”

“I can't think of anybody where I go, ‘What's great about that artist is their consistency, ” Clark said. “Anything that stays the same for too long dies. It fails to capture people's imagination.”

Coat (mens), $1,150, by Acne Studios

They were identifying a problem with fans, of course, not with themselves. It was an implicit identification, because performers aren't permitted to critique their audiences, and it was definitely the artistic equivalent of a First World problem—an issue that arises only when you're so resplendent with talent that you not only nail something enough to attract adoration but nail it hard enough to get personally bored and move on—but it was still valid. They were talking about the kind of fan who clings to a specific tree when he or she could be roaming through a whole forest. In St. Vincent's case, a forest of prog-rock thickets and jazzy roots and orchestral brambles and mournful-ballad underlayers, all of it sprouting and molting under a prodigious pop canopy. They were talking about the strange phenomenon of people getting mad at you for surprising them. Even if the surprise is great.

Molly Young is a writer living in New York City. She wrote about Donatella Versace in the April 2018 issue of GQ.

A version of this story originally appeared in the February 2019 issue with the title "Switching Lanes With St. Vincent."

[yespoetry]

An Interview with Maryan Nagy Captan

copy/body by Maryan Nagy Captan is a poetry collection that explores identity, place, home, gender, and family dynamics. It was originally published by Empty Set Press in 2017. With the close of Empty Set earlier this, we have partnered up with ESP and are offering the chapbook as a free ebook. You can read an interview with the Captan below (and poems from the collection are forthcoming on our site on Monday, October 14), and can download the collection here and below.

Did you write this collection to any kind of music?

This collection spans about 9 years worth of work. The oldest poem in the collection, "Housewife", was written in 2009 while "Blood Pact" was completed in 2017.  There are so many albums that are my tried and true and have been for the past decade which deeply influenced the bulk of the work: The Lemon of Pink by The Books,  Shake Shugaree by Elizabeth Cotton, Veneer by Jose Gonzalez, Noah’s Ark by CocoRosie, Aquimini by Outkast, Rain Dogs by Tom Waits, Plaisirs D'Amour by Rene Aubry, anything by Bessie Smith, anything by Kendrick Lamar, anything by John Cage, In Rainbows by Radiohead, the list goes on and on. 

Describe your favorite meal.   

I'm not sure if it qualifies as a meal but a minimum of 20 pieces of my mama's waraq ineb drenched in lemon juice (preferably eaten on the couch next to my dad while we switch between watching Wimbleton and Lebanese soap operas on DISH Network).

Choose three books that you've always identified with?  

I have such a hard time answering questions about identifying with books or characters. I think partially because I don’t read narratives where I identify with the characters. I read to escape into form and language. However, I do have books that I love and have read many, many times over the last several years. Tender Buttons by Gertrude Stein is a bible, as is Recyclopedia by Harryette Mullen, and Zong! by M. NourbeSe Philip come to mind. 

However, I find myself identifying much, much more strongly with visual art. I feel most connected to the work of Masao Yamamoto, Louis Bourgeois, Joan Miro, Paula Rego, and Ren Hang. 

Choose one painting that describes who you are. What is it?  

For the past few years, I’ve been enamored with the work of Julie Speed, an oil painter and collage artist based in Marfa, TX. My current favorite piece is titled “Eyes to See.” How does it describe me? I like to think that I am both figures in this painting. As a writer and performance poet, I get self conscious about overwriting or being too insistent in the work. As a reader and citizen of the world, I sometimes feel overwhelmed by the amount of information and insight that we’re expected to consume regularly. It can be suffocating. 

However, behind all the chaos of humanity is a bird and a tree and an open window.  I think this aspect speaks strongly to my desire to always find a sliver of hope in everything: an escape, a reminder, a moment of joy.

What do you imagine the apocalypse is like? How would you want to die?  

Even though it’s a terrible movie, I always loved the premise of The Happening. In it, plant life develops an airborne toxin that causes humans to commit suicide. 

In this version of the apocalypse, instead of an airborne toxin, all plants and trees develop a taste for human blood and devour all of humanity in a few days. I wouldn’t want it to last too long because it sounds horrific. 

In this scenario, I’d prefer to be gently leaning onto and then very suddenly be absorbed into Bald Cypress. Though, I hope I’m the first to go because I’m way too soft to actually witness any of this.

If you could only watch three films for the rest of your life, what would they be?  

This one’s too hard but okay: Beetlejuice, Cairo Station, and Chungking Express.

Where do you find inspiration lately?

Lately, I’ve been screenwriting and studying storytelling. It’s been really energizing and it’s changing the way I think about poetry. I’ve always been inspired by what I feel most challenged by so right now, I’m learning to tell stories through narrative and the three act structure rather than through emotion and musicality.  It’s really hard but the creative payoff is huge.

Where did you write most of your book? 

The majority of the book was written in Philadelphia, and three of the poems were written in Keene Valley, NY during a residency with Paul Smith College of the Adirondacks.

What was something surprised you recently?

I recently learned that a placebo can still have a positive effect on someone even if they know it’s a placebo which I thought was so fascinating.

What do you carry with you at all times?   

A piece of mica from Clark Park in West Philly.

Tell us a bit about your writing process. What works and what doesn't? What doesn't, but you keep trying it anyway?

I’ve always been self conscious about how little I produce but I’ve slowly come to understand over the years that I don’t write unless I feel compelled to.  

I can meditate on a poem for days before actually writing it. I’m obsessed with subjectivity (as a concept and with my own) and I feel most compelled to write when I’m in a state of deep introspection. I’ll meditate on an idea for days and when a poem finally comes, I’ll spend eight months editing it to death. I have some poems that have gone through 30-40 different drafts. The biggest challenge for me is to write a poem, edit once, then twice, and be done with it. The poem is done after the second edit. It has to be. 

One of my favorite mantras comes from the teachings of J. Krishnamurti: Observe your confusion. Study it. 

For me, what works is writing about something that scares me about myself.  At the present moment, I’m most interested in examining how I’m complicit in, even though I protest against, the deconstruction of the natural world. I’m attracted to hypocrisy as a theme and find it really difficult to write without relying on tropes. 

What doesn’t work for me is sitting down and saying “I’m going to write a poem.” The compulsion to write is an integral part of the process. Without it, ideas just don’t come. 

What are some of your daily rituals or routines?  

Birdwatching and drinking coffee is my favorite daily ritual because I like to pretend I’m retired even though I’ll probably be working for the rest of my life. (: 

What was the hardest part about writing this book?

Honestly, when Angelo invited me to publish with Empty Set, I already had these poems ready. They span the length of nearly a decade and I had already performed them dozens of times. These are the poems of my 20s. 

Now, that I’m in my 30s and working on a new collection, one that is intentionally thematically linked and far more narrative, I think the obstacle I keep coming up against is the question of whether or not each of the poems is building on the last or if the poems are merely reiterating the same ideas. 

copy/body is as a book is a collage: the poems are linked by their musicality, language play, and loose themes of domesticity. The current book I’m working on is much more intentionally themed and though there are individual pieces, the book is designed to be read as one long poem.

Ultimately, the hardest part of writing copy/body was finding the time to write and the hardest part about having time to write is actually writing. But maybe that’s the case for everything.

Define happiness for you. 

The silence of a desert.

Maryan Nagy Captan is an experimental writer, educator, and performance poet based in Austin, Texas. She is a Fellow at The Michener Center for Writers and serves as the Marketing Director for Bat City Review. Maryan is the author of copy/body (Empty Set Press, 2017) and an alumna of the Disquiet International Literary Program. Her work has appeared in or is forthcoming in The Egyptian Writers Folio (Anomaly Press), Foundry, AJAR, Apiary Magazine, Mantra Review, Boneless/Skinless, Sundog Lit, and elsewhere.

Joanna C. Valente is a human who lives in Brooklyn, New York. They are the author of Sirs & Madams, The Gods Are Dead, Marys of the Sea, Sexting Ghosts, Xenos, No(body), #Survivor, (forthcoming, The Operating System), and is the editor of A Shadow Map: Writing by Survivors of Sexual Assault. They received their MFA in writing at Sarah Lawrence College. Joanna is the founder of Yes Poetry and the senior managing editor for Luna Luna Magazine. Some of their writing has appeared in The Rumpus, Them, Brooklyn Magazine, BUST, and elsewhere. Joanna also leads workshops at Brooklyn Poets. joannavalente.com / Twitter: @joannasaid / IG: joannacvalente / FB: joannacvalente

[timeshuffles]

so yesterday i saw what i believe is a huge misinterpretation of ‘monster’ and specifically the reason elsa surrenders at the end, and i’m still annoyed about it, so to be 100% clear about my take on this: ‘monster’ is not about elsa surrendering because she thinks she’s a monster or because she’s intimidated by hans. ‘monster’ is not about elsa being a passive observer of her own story. ‘monster’ is not about an angry mob storming in to burn the helpless, frightened witch. 

‘monster’ is about elsa grappling with the very real consequences of her decision to run away from her coronation and turn her back on arendelle when it needed her most, which has resulted in a situation where lives are in danger and foreign usurpers have taken command over the crisis.

‘monster’ is about elsa coming to terms with the damage her father’s instructions and her rigid adherence to them has done. 

‘monster’ is about elsa weighing her desire to disappear into the wilderness where she feels safe against her sense of duty to her country, her people, & her sister, and deciding to walk the difficult, uncertain path of a queen instead of hiding herself away again or giving up and killing herself. 

‘monster’ is about elsa triumphing over her worst inclinations. 

from the moment she hurts anna as a child until the moment hans shows up at her ice palace with the mob, all of elsa’s actions are guided by anxiety, depression, and guilt. ‘monster’ is the turning point, the moment when elsa finally takes a clear look at herself & her past and consciously chooses to break free of those psychological chains and live.

and in order to do that, elsa has to surrender.

see, in the show, the way ‘monster’ is staged, elsa is alone on stage for the first half of the song. she can hear the mob approaching outside, and they are important only insofar as their arrival will force her to make a choice: she can’t continue to pace and fret and do nothing as she has since sending anna and kristoff away from the ice palace.

beyond that, elsa is not scared of or even particularly interested in the mob. her focus, instead, is on herself, her magic, and what she can do to put an end to the crisis she created when she lost control: 

It’s finally come, come to knock down my door. I can’t hide this time like I hid before. The storm is awake. The danger is real. My time’s running out, don’t feel, don’t feel. 

the method she has always used for controlling her magic no longer works, but that doesn’t stop her from instinctively falling into it even though she knows it’s not going to work.  (& one thing the musical does, which i like very much, is directly echo pieces of ‘monster’ during ‘colder by the minute’ to emphasize that these harmful thought patterns are still very much there in elsa’s mind even after she chooses to reject them, eg. “conceal, don’t feel, don’t feel, get back into the cage!” while also using the word monster in a different way so that it is less self-referential and more like elsa is treating her magic like an adversary she now needs to beat.)

Fear will be your enemy, and death its consequence. That’s what they once said to me, and it’s starting to make sense. All this pain, all this fear,  began because of me.

the assumption of both elsa and her parents throughout her life was that the prophecy pabbi delivered to her after saving anna’s life meant that other people’s fear of elsa and her magic would be the cause of elsa’s death. however, elsa is now beginning to interpret the warning differently: it is her own fear that is putting other people’s lives in danger, because she suppressed her magic out of fear, and then after losing control ran away out of fear, and that directly resulted in the devastating summer blizzard they’re trapped in now.

Is the thing they see the thing I have to be? A monster, were they right? Has the dark in me finally come to light? Am I a monster, full of rage? Nowhere to go but on a rampage? Or am I just a monster in a cage?

now... in the interpretation that i disagree with, the one that prompted this post, the writer of that took issue with the line “am i a monster, full of rage?” on the grounds that elsa is not an angry character and — yes. to an extent that’s true. but i think it’s very important to remember that the feeling that actually causes the blizzard, the actual trigger that makes elsa lose control over her powers at the coronation, isn’t fear. it’s anger. she loses her temper with anna and yells at her and it is that burst of, yes, rage that shatters her grip on her magic.

the whole storm is borne out of anger and only exacerbated by fear. elsa recognizes this. and this verse is her — somewhat poetic — way of interrogating those feelings. the blizzard began because she lost her temper for just one second; what if the reason she can’t get it back under control is it’s being fueled by all the pent-up frustration and anger she feels about her situation (forced into isolation and loneliness by dangerous magic she can’t control, with no end in sight)?   and what if the reason she can’t stop the blizzard is simply because she’s just too weak & ruled by her emotions? 

( i also think it’s an intentional parallel to ‘dangerous to dream’, in which elsa laments “i can’t be what you expect of me/and i’m not what i seem” and “i can’t show you i’m not as cold as i seem” — she longs to open up and be herself with both her subjects and especially her sister, whereas in ‘monster’ she confronts her fear that she is exactly who she now appears to be.)

at this point in the song, the mob interjects again, and elsa is visibly startled by their cries. which, if you ask me, is a very strong point of evidence in favor of ‘monster’ really not being about the mob; elsa is so deeply absorbed in her introspection that she loses track of the people storming into her home to kill her. anyway — the reminder of their imminent arrival pushes elsa out of this mournful speculation and into urgently evaluating her options. 

What do I do? No time for crying now. I started a storm, gotta stop it somehow. Do I keep on running? How far do I have to go? And would that take the storm away or only make it grow? I’m making my world colder— how long can it survive? Is everyone in danger as long as I’m alive?

knowing that the “conceal, don’t feel” method has been unsuccessful so far, she considers running even further away and hoping that the storm will follow her away from arendelle. but since that didn’t work last time, she also begins to consider that perhaps only her death will guarantee the safety of her people.

( i have seen a surprising amount of backlash against the suicide ideation threaded throughout ‘monster’ and i really do not understand where it comes from. no one argues that elsa isn’t depressed — because she is, and it’s perhaps even more overt in the musical than in the film. she never worked through the trauma of nearly killing her little sister when she was ten, she’s spent the last eleven years living in near-total isolation and silence, her country is locked in the grip of a magical winter she caused and has no clue how to stop, and just hours ago she nearly killed her sister again. in purely emotional terms, it would be a miracle if the thought of suicide didn’t cross her mind in this dark moment — and on top of that, she has an actual genuine reason to believe the world would be a better place without her in it, because her death might end the blizzard, & that kind of logic has incredible power on a mind that is already entrenched in habits of guilt and self-sacrifice. )

( i think it’s also worth noting that this is the second time in the show elsa asks herself “what do i do?” — the first is in ‘dangerous to dream,’ after she manages to get herself coronated without freezing her scepter: 

Father, I did it! Now what do I do? I can’t stop smiling, how strange— does this mean that things are different? Could they really change? And could I open up that door, and finally see you face to face? ...I guess a queen can change the rules, but not the reason they’re in place.

and once again, its use here feels like an intentional inverse of its use in ‘dangerous to dream,’ where instead of being so giddy with success and optimism that for a second she considers relaxing the strict rules she holds herself, now elsa is in a situation where the rules are crumbling all around her, she’s beginning to see that they never protected anyone in the first place, and she has no fucking clue what to do without them. )

anyway, this part of the song is when the mob breaks into her ice palace and finally enters the scene proper. and the physical staging of this moment is really important, because it’s what really drives home the balance of power here and what elsa is doing in this scene. because what’s the first thing does elsa when a mob of scared, angry, armed men break into her sanctuary? 

she turns her back on them.

like — they don’t even get to ENTER properly because she controls the space, and elsa barely even spares them a glance. and just as elsa denies them entry into her palace, she refuses to be distracted from her internal quandary.

Was I a monster from the start? How did I end up with this frozen heart? Bringing destruction to the stage, caught in a war that I never meant to wage. 

if anything, the arrival of the mob becomes, to her, a kind of symbol of how badly she has failed them. like — just imagine how desperate you’d have to be to storm the castle of somebody with powers like elsa’s in the middle of a blizzard so deadly cold that you know you will die if you stay in it. 

this verse is, i think, really elsa empathizing deeply with the mob and recognizing herself through their eyes — she waged war on her own people. it was an accident, yes, but that doesn’t end the devastation nor undo the destruction she has already caused. she’s not afraid of them, because they are completely at her mercy. and she’s not angry at them, because she understands the fear and pain fueling their anger. 

& most importantly, she still sees these people as her subjects, and that makes their safety her responsibility in her mind. which is what brings her to: 

Do I kill the monster?

ultimately it is the sight of the ordinary people she has failed — not anna, who has a personal history with her and thus trusts and loves her in a way no one else can, but regular subjects who are scared and hurting and confused and are literally just innocent bystanders in a disaster that grew out of a simple spat with her sister — that pushes elsa into actively contemplating suicide.

Father, you know what’s best for me. If I die, will they be free? Mother, what if after I’m gone the cold gets colder, and the storm rages on? ...No! I have to stay alive to fix what I’ve done, save the world from myself and bring back the sun.

this is the most important verse all of ‘monster’ and, i would argue, the entire show in terms of elsa’s character development. why? because it is a direct echo of the conversation young elsa has with her parents after almost she almost kills anna — even the melody is the same: 

AGNARR: We must keep her powers hidden from everyone, including Anna. 

IÐUNN: What?! No, they’re sisters, we can’t ask expect them to stay away from each other—

ELSA: Mother, it’s how it has to be. What’s best for her is best for me. Father, I’ll do what you say—

AGNARR: We’ll help you to control it. I know we’ll find a way.

IÐUNN: Only until we get more answers, and then

ALL: We’ll find our way back to be a family again...

as a child, elsa took her father’s advice and hid herself away, shut down all her emotions and metaphorically ends her life in order to keep her powers hidden (“i can’t laugh, i can’t cry, i can’t dream, i can’t live without it bursting out!”). in contrast, her mother rejects the idea that she must live in fear, objecting to keeping her isolated from anna and later trying to comfort her when she’s upset instead of scolding her to keep it hidden.

& here, as a woman facing down all the myriad ways that her father’s teachings have failed her and her country, elsa consciously chooses to follow her mother’s advice instead—embracing life, and trying to control her magic without sacrificing her life in both the literal and figurative sense. she chooses to seek out the answers her mother wanted, the better alternative that her parents went in search of when they left arendelle on the voyage that killed them. 

If I’m a monster, then it’s true there’s only one thing left for me to do, but before I fade to white, I’ll do all that I can to make things right. 

so this is her conclusion: if it’s true that she really cannot end the storm any other way — if she really can’t bring herself into balance, if she really can’t find a way to rule her emotions instead of being ruled by them — then, yes, she will kill herself as last-ditch effort to save her people. ultimately, she values their wellbeing above her own life. 

but.  she is not there yet. it’s kind of funny because, despite the fact that elsa is literally planning to kill herself if she can’t stop the storm any other way, this verse is, in contrast to the despairing tone of everything leading up to this verse, actually filled with hope and determination. this is elsa rejecting the idea that she’s a monster, rejecting the idea that the only way to keep people safe from her is to lock herself away and suppress all her feelings, rejecting the fear her father’s ideas represent. this is elsa saying “if my father was right about me, then i’ll die, but i don’t think he was right anymore.”

& having articulated this conclusion to herself, she finishes up the song by taking the first step in acting upon it. how?

by taking control of her magic and setting her people free. 

I cannot be a monster. I will not be a monster— not tonight!

the other big point of contention in posts i read yesterday that prompted this post is the idea that elsa surrendering to hans at this point makes her — weak? passive? a helpless object in her own story? but the thing is —

elsa still holds all the power here. after she lowers the ice, the mob readies their weapons and advances on her...

...but all she has to do to make them back off is tilt her hands at them.

a mere glance over her shoulder and they recoil. they don’t dare actually attack, and elsa holds them back like this for several seconds with nothing but the power of their own fear — and then she surrenders by saying, “I surrender, take me to Princess Anna.”

because the thing is. she doesn’t surrender because she thinks she deserves it. she doesn’t surrender out of guilt or because she believes she’s a monster. she surrenders, i think, for two reasons: 

first, these are her people and it is currently so cold that they will freeze to death if they stay in the mountains. she needs to get them to safety. surrendering and allowing them to escort her down the mountain, back to the comparative safety of arendelle (where there’s fire, food, blankets, and plenty of shelter), is the best way to accomplish that. 

and second, anna came after her with nothing but trust and love and unshakable belief that elsa could get the storm back under control. elsa drove her away out of fear, but now that she has consciously chosen to fight against her fears and try her best to end the storm, she wants to accept the help anna offered her — and given that catalyst for all of this was, as i said, elsa losing her temper with anna during an argument, it’s also not unreasonable for her to think that maybe resolving that argument with anna will help end the blizzard too. 

in any case, she now has a pressing need to get to anna as soon as possible, and every reason to think anna is already back in arendelle, and surrendering is, again, the best way she can think of to accomplish this. 

& also, i’ve pointed this out before, but elsa is still positioned as the one in charge after she surrenders. we see hans gesture for two guards to go up and put elsa in shackles, but when they actually go to do so, they wait for her consent before even attempting to actually put them on her. 

they don’t try to force the shackles onto her hands — they don’t even touch her. while hans and the duke of weselton (both foreigners with no legitimate authority in arendelle!) posture and bicker with each other about who is in charge, these guards—actual citizens of arendelle—WAIT for elsa to to grant them permission to put her in chains. she slowly holds up her hands, then nods, and only then do they actually move to restrain her. 

she is in charge. she is the one holding the cards throughout this scene. 

& throughout the rest of the act?   elsa is willing to play along with hans’s authority only for as long as his decisions do not interfere with hers. she wants to see anna, he wants to bring her to arendelle — that works for her. he says anna isn’t back yet and she’s to be imprisoned until anna returns — that’s fine, she’d be waiting in arendelle for anna anyway. but the second he gives an order that doesn’t align with her own goals, she breaks the shackles and leaves. 

( caissie also rolled her eyes at him after “i charge queen elsa with treason” when i saw the show again in july. it was delightful. )

ANYWAY. this got a hell of a lot longer than i intended because i have so many goddamn feelings about how important ‘monster’ is and how necessary it is for the development of elsa’s character to have her fight this vicious internal battle between her greatest strength (compassion) and her greatest weakness (“conceal don’t feel” & the ethos of self-sacrifice) and emerge triumphant after a lifetime of clinging to her father’s misguided lessons but — 

TL;DR ‘monster’ is elsa battling depression, anxiety, guilt, and self-loathing so she can whole-heartedly accept the responsibilities of rule, choose life, and finally turn away from “conceal, don’t feel;” her subsequent surrender is equal parts deep compassion for the mob and a calculated decision that allows her to accomplish all her goals in the safest and most efficient way possible based upon what she currently knows of the situation. also pacifism does not make a character helpless or weak and at no point does elsa lose or relinquish control over the mob situation thank you for coming to my TED talk. 

[mistwraiths]

4 stars

Eelyn is a warrior, proud to fight alongside her clansmen against their enemies, the Riki. Until one day, she sees her brother alive fighting on the opposite side. Five years ago, she believed he died. After being captured and taken, she has to deal with her brother's betrayal, an attraction to one of her enemies, and a rising threat to both clans. The threat can only be dealt with if the clans can unite.

I was super excited for this book with Viking influences! It promised a badass heroine and battles, and all sorts of goodness, including hinting at Wonder Woman vibes. However, I was a bit disappointed that for well over half the book, it's nothing like that. The book was still enjoyable despite that initial letdown. It dealt far more with emotional turmoil and feelings than it did with Viking battles or their religion.

The book starts off with a strong chapter showing off Eelyn. She's very fierce and capable, although I'd argue about how many times can you either break or bruise your ribs in battle without becoming a hindrance to others. At first I was hesitant once it became clear this wasn't originally what I thought it was but Eelyn is still a really good character. I enjoyed being in her headspace and grappling with the betrayal she feels, the sheer anger at her brother and the situation and enemy, and the feeling of failure she has. I loved that introspection that she felt multiple things at times and they didn't make sense all the time. It felt messy and true.

Eelyn throughout the book is able to see her enemy clearly for the first time. How they are similar to her own clan. The fact she can humanize them and feel empathy in the scenes she sees makes it even harder to continue her blind hatred. They're just people and not the monsters she tells herself. Every side thinks themselves the good ones fighting the bad side.

As for badass, I'm not sure I'd go there and I definitely have a lot of grievances for near sexual assault and the physical assault she had to experience. Eelyn had so many injuries that honestly I was wondering how the hell she still able to fight.

The plot is mostly slow after the first couple of chapters. Once she gets captured, it's a whole lot of emotional insight, doing simple chores, reflection, and talking although Eelyn might talk the least amount compared to the characters. Around 200 pages in, the pace does pick up and then it's mainly a rush to the end.

The side characters are all really nice however they're nearly too nice. I liked Fiske and while the romance is cute, I think I could have done without it. The romance felt a little rushed since they almost really never truly got to know each other. They talked only a little, not enough for me to really feel it start and bloom. You can tell things are going to work out far too easily and I'm such a sucker for tension and struggle and conflict.

One thing this author does is that there's one scene that's always written so vividly it sticks with you. At least that's what I can tell from reading another book by her. Also, there is a scene that shocked me!!! It involved an eyeball and had me hollering.

Altogether, this was a really good book that wasn't what I expected it to be but still was really good. I'd recommend it if you want some Viking feels but nothing extremely dark and gritty. It can hit you in the feels though and it's short enough to be an easy read for a day.