#ch: the charming poet

[ramayantika]

Pag Ghungroo Baje

couldn't find any suitable title :) this title is subject to change later on.

Writing this while revising for Human Anatomy & Physio. My mind is saturated so pardon me for lazy writing and errors if any.

CH-1

I was walking inside our society campus. My dance class got over half an hour ago, and I had decided to take a stroll around the large campus before meeting the biker boy from last night.

I was walking inside our society campus. My dance class got over half an hour ago, and I had decided to take a stroll around the large campus before meeting the biker boy from last night.

My kurti darkened as sweat stuck to my body, and the cool night breeze made me shiver slightly. I could still feel my damp hair sticking to my neck, and I cringed at the stickiness of my sweat-dried cheeks.

I definitely made a great appearance.

As I neared the society park, my heart raced. My eyes raked all over the park to spot the familiar boy. I could see a group of boys, all teenagers, standing beside the slides with badminton rackets. Some middle school kids and their parents were playing pakdam pakdai as their parents chatted with each other. Two girls were swinging on the U-shaped swings. There was no trace of a boy looking out for me.

Fetching my phone from my dance bag, I switched it on to check the time. It was already 7.05 PM, and I had to be home by 7.45 to freshen up and start studying. I had already informed my mother that I would take a walk after dance class inside the campus and then come home.

I began fanning myself with my dupatta and decided to wait for ten more minutes. If no one would show up, I would immediately head home and resume my studies. Scrolling through my news feed, I found an article headline about the stock market, which I ignored. Even the news feed grew tired of me scrolling, and my dry eyes began stinging a little.

I placed my phone back into the bag and looked up at the night sky. A few stars twinkled up there, and with them flew large, floating grey clouds that looked like mists. I traced the stars with my eyes, trying to find a pattern in their alignment, when I felt someone tap my shoulder.

“You are the dancer, right?”

I snapped my neck too fast at the person behind me, causing me to wince a little at the sharp pain. Rubbing the skin gently, I nodded at the boy and said, “Yes, I am the dancer, and you are?”

“The biker.” The boy said it with a straight face that made me raise my eyebrows.

“Your name –  Mr. Biker? You said you would tell me today if I met you here in the park.”

Moving a hand through his hair, he replied with a charming smile, “Oh yes, I am Veer. D wing 302.”

Taking a step back, I said, “Woah! I didn’t ask for your address.”

Veer shrugged his shoulders. “I mentioned it because who knows when you might need it? The universe works in very mysterious ways after all, Sameera.”

I bit back a smile. Sameera's lips sounded beautiful, and, may I add, sensual? His deep, gravelly voice sounded poetic, or maybe like that of a romantic poet. His voice repeating my name echoed in my head, and I fought hard to stop a blush from forming on my warm cheeks.

'Sameera, you are pathetic,’ I said to myself in my head.

Veer, who was standing in front of me, was two heads taller than me. Dressed in casual jeans and a t-shirt paired with sneakers, looked straight from a young adult romantic movie by Dharma Productions.

I cannot lie. Veer did look handsome.

On the other hand, I had nothing nice to enhance my appearance. If I were given a little more time, I would have freshened up before meeting him. Maybe fate wanted him to see me in a sleek, sweaty braid, drenched garments, and a mismatched dupatta lazily draped around my neck and shoulders.

“Which block is yours, though?” I heard Veer ask, causing me to drift away from all the handsomeness in front of me.

“Mine?” I scratched my chin. “Yes, it is block A-102.”

Veer’s eyes raked all over me, but it wasn’t a creepy gaze, but rather a very curious one. “You waited for me straight after your dance class?”

I blinked my eyes. Clearly, I hadn’t expected this question. “Uh.. yes. I have to anyway get home by 7.45, so I decided I would wait for you to show up. And if you wouldn’t have, then I would have gone home, and from the next moment onwards, I forgot I met a boy outside my window who caught me dancing.”

Veer opened his phone. “It’s 7.20, and you still have twenty-five minutes. Do you want to spend those minutes with me or spend them gazing at the night sky?”

My eyes widened with surprise. “Were you watching me?”

Veer scratched the back of his neck and gently nodded his head. “Yes, but you were looking cute, so I couldn't." Veer paused and looked at me, his eyes mirroring the same expression as mine. With an embarrassed smile, he said, "Sorry, this might make me sound very forward, but the truth remains the truth after all.”

I couldn’t help but giggle at Veer, whose confident demeanour had flown out of his system. “And now you look really cute this way.”

The boy simply smiled and looked at the ground. His pinkish lips curled beautifully as he smiled, and my smile grew even bigger after watching him smile.

Who knew boys can be so adorable too?

“By the way, what do you dance?”

I sit down on the bench while answering. “I do Bharatanatyam.”

Veer’s eyes lit up. “I have a friend who dances classical too. She does Kathak though.” Glancing at the empty space beside me, he asked, “Can I sit with you?”

“Of course, you don’t need to ask.”

He sat down beside me but maintained a healthy gap between us. “Yeah, but I also didn’t want to accidentally invade your space.”

My face softened. There are considerate people still in this time and generation.

“So, what are you studying?” I asked while removing the dupatta from my neck.

“Engineering. Computer science. You?”

“Biotechnology.”

“Wow. Science and dance go together. That’s really impressive, Sameera.”

There, once again, I felt myself melt. I wanted to savour the sound of my name from his ips, and all of this sounds so weird, but I couldn’t help it. My brain and my nervous system were sending weird signals to each other.

“What hobbies do you have, Veer?”

Veer turned his face towards me. I observed his curly eyelashes fall so gracefully each time he blinks. “Nothing much. I like to read and maybe go sightseeing nearby when I feel like it.”

“That’s nice.”

We stayed quiet. Veer fiddled with his thumbs, and sometimes he would sneak glances at me, which I would ignore while smiling to myself. After a few minutes, I could hear the sound of buzzing crickets and croaking frogs. Veer looked at me, his eyes sparkling under the white street lamp above us, and said, “I moved here a week ago. I like this society. It’s spacious, and there’s a lot of greenery around.”

Moving my eyes around the flower bushes and trees lining the sides of the roads, I nodded in agreement. “That’s true. The nights are really peaceful here.”

He smiled. It was a soft acknowledging smile, which made me smile too. We then turned our faces away from each other and moved our gaze to the front, silently embracing the comfortable quiet surrounding us until my phone rang up.

“Niche hai na upar aate vakt curry patta todke lana toh,” my mother said on the phone before abruptly disconnecting the call. I could hear the loud sound of the grinder, which meant my mother had begun preparing for dinner.

Veer, with a knowing grin, remarked, “Curry patta toh mujhe bhi lana hai. Let’s go together then.”

I pursed my lips and replied, “Do you really want curry patta, or is it just another excuse to spend time with me?”

Shrugging his shoulder, Veer ruffled his fluffy, wavy hair and, with a boyish grin, said, “Oh, I am here only to make friends. It’s my good luck that a pretty girl like you is the first friend I get to make.”

I got up from the bench and straightened my kurti. “Woah! Friends already?”

My mind fixated on the pretty girl comment, but of course I acted nonchalant about it.

“I am not into that acquaintance, then friends bullshit. Do log mile baat kiye hasi mazak hua aur dost banne.”

Shaking my head at Veer, I walked outside the park with Veer following me. “Chalo phir dost. Let’s get curry patta.”

***

[Veer’s POV]

That night I saw Sameera dancing through her window. I couldn’t hear the song, but I could see her movements, her hand gestures and her lovely, bright smile. She was acting as a shy girl in love to whatever song she was playing in her room, but she looked really cute and I couldn’t help but watch her dance with a smile on my face though my rational mind deems it to be a very creepy action.

I watched Sameera lead me towards the small group of trees behind the junction between A and B block from where I could get curry patta. To be honest, my mother too had asked me to get a few curry leaves for dinner and I was about to ask the security guard for it but luck favoured me and I got Sameera.

Sameera, through the window looked adorable and her dance was good too, but in front of me, she looked ten times prettier. Sweat on women does make them appear hotter, though. I could see the light making her collarbones shine and my eyes carefully observed a lone sweat droplet move down her neck as graceful as Sameera’s hand gestures.

Later, when she wrapped the dupatta around her neck and shoulders, she looked even more cute.

Sameera switched on the flashlight on her phone and moved her neck diagonally upwards. Her eyes looked me through the corners and she said, “Just make sure that nobody catches you plucking these, okay?”

She plucked two branches, one for me and one for herself. Handing the curry leaves to me, she said, “Yeh lo dosti ka pehla gift. Curry patta.”

Thanking her, I took my curry patta from her and stepped back to move out from the dense shrubs around us that were brimming with buzzing mosquitoes. Sameera’s flashlight lit my way ahead because the dry twigs could easily make a person trip and fall down if not careful enough.

A few leaves crunched beneath my feet, and as I had barely walked four steps ahead when heard Sameera gasp. Immediately, I turned around only to find her laughing in embarrassment while twirling the dupatta around her arm.

“My dupatta made me trip a little.”

In concern, I asked her. “You sure? No cuts, right?”

She waved her arm, causing the dupatta to fly right in front of my face. “Oh, not at all. I didn’t fall down. It was only a misstep.”

Sameera looked fine enough, so I didn’t question any further. I lit my flashlight too and walked outside the clustered trees and shrubs with Sameera carefully marking her steps in the dark.

Taking a turn, we both now stood in the parking lot of A block. Sameera walked near the lift and said, “It was nice meeting you Veer.” She pressed the lift button and turned to me. “Hope to see you around.”

I loved her voice, especially when she took my name. Her sweet gentle voice made my name sound sweeter, and it made me feel warm in my chest. Giving her a two-finger salute, I replied, “Oh, you will definitely see me around. Until next time.”

She waved at me and stepped inside the lift. I watched her until the lift doors closed in front of me. I began walking back home while whistling all the way, my mind still thinking about the adorable Sameera, her voice and her illuminating smile.

--xx--

Taglist: @alhad-si-simran @ramcharantitties @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @aesthetic-aryavartik @jukti-torko-golpo @kaal-naagin @krishna-priyatama @houseofbreadpakoda @navaratna @to-three-or-not-to-three @oldersiblingcurse (okay why can't I tag you 🥲)@talesinmyhead041022 @yourstruly-sakhi

[leanderfields]

kintsugi ch. 01 ⦂

series masterlist → next

SYNOPSIS: Life as a Highborn noble can be as lavish and extravagant as one makes it out to be. After all, money talks in these parts of Eridia. Every interaction is transactional. Even relationships, a horrible realization that you had when turning down one too many marriage– or rather, business– proposals. But when all hope in love is lost, a thief breaks into your bedroom in the dead of night. He’s charming and easy on the eyes, but is your heart the only thing he’ll take?

C/W: none; see series masterlist for general warnings

A/N: This is my Leander gives Flynn Rider energy agenda •ू(ᵒ̴̶̷ωᵒ̴̶̷*•ू) ​ )੭ु⁾

Love. An artist’s beloved muse. A poet’s treasured inspiration. An emotion so driving, everlasting, unconditional, and knew no bounds– or so the stories say. The theaters had no shortage of stage plays about love. Most bookstores had their romance sections stocked with every trope imaginable– soulmates, fairytale retellings, rivals turned romantic partners and everything a hopeless romantic hoped for. Everything you hoped for. 

You could not pinpoint when this infatuation with the idea of a love so fleeting started, but it did start with a childlike innocence. “Just one more bedtime story,” you would tell your nanny. One more about the frog and the princess. One more about the mermaid and the prince. One more about the beast and the beauty. 

By the time you reached the ripe age of sixteen, your infatuation was more so an obsession. A burning curiosity replaced your childlike innocence. Just one romance novel. Just to see what the rave was about, to see what happens next. And then one became two. Then two became too many. Now your bookshelves were filled with nothing but books about love. Pure love. Passionate love. Prevailing love. These novels built cathedrals from catharsis and heated confessions. All of which were fleeting, leaving you rosy-cheeked, kicking your feet, giggling and dreaming of the day you would be on the receiving end of such heartfelt words. 

All of which were lies– a terrible realization that occurred to you by the time you reached the debutante age. Letters and bouquets with cards attached all asked for one thing: your love, but not the love you were familiar with. Their love was written in quadruple digits and checks.

The love you knew and adored was the one thing nobles from Hightown could not afford. Love was not pure, passionate or prevailing nor was it fleeting. Love was transactional. In the hellscape that was high society, marriage was a means to elevate or maintain a certain status. Courtship was a means of networking and marriage was akin to signing a business deal. Perhaps that was one of the reasons romance was such a popular genre amongst Highborn nobles. Their lives were so devoid of love that they sought respite in fantasies of fiction. You were no different in that sense, but you wanted to believe. You wanted to hope that a love would eventually sweep you off your feet one day. 

Times had progressed. There were aristocrats who married for love, but such a case was as rare and costly as an argyle diamond, something not many would invest in. True love took time and time was money. High society had a consensus– why marry for love when you could marry a prospect that you perhaps grow to love? And if you did not love your prospects, you could find another one. After all, business was business and there were no hard feelings or any feelings, really. 

You sighed as you threw another envelope into the waste bin by your desk. You propped your hand onto your knuckles and let your gaze linger on your dusty bookshelf. You had not read a single novel since you made your entrance into fashionable society. Months passed and you assumed that the worst was over. Like any fad in Hightown, you assumed that the topic of your age and your fairly average birthday party would eventually become irrelevant, allowing you to indulge in the latest releases, but you were presumptuous and sorely underestimated how relentless lords and dukes were when it came to finding their sons a bride. To this day, you were as busy as ever. Hundreds of letters were delivered to your estate each day. Some were business proposals and others were outright marriage proposals while some were discreet invitations to social events, but almost all of them were from notable families which meant you had to reply with a letter to accept or decline. Otherwise, it would be discourteous and bad blood between nobles was more of a hassle than writing a letter. You turned your attention to the evening sky. The stars were blinded by the city lights, but they offered you the peace and solace that no one else could. 

Friendships were not as transactional as courtship was in Hightown, but it was a snake pit of its own. Wealth. Status. Power. Knowledge of such topics shaped the value of friendship. Friendships were based on usefulness. How beneficial was it to befriend someone of this family? Would that tarnish your reputation? There was also gossip, gossip and more gossip– a lady’s favorite item on the menu at afternoon tea parties. One was a “good” friend if one had the latest scoops and one was a “bad” friend if one dispelled any rumors. 

Personally, you considered yourself an average friend. You knew the latest gossip, but you were never one to spread anything. You only ever added to conversations once in a while to keep yourself “useful”. You nodded in agreement and engaged in small talk when necessary, but you also kept your distance. Snakes, or anything that looked remotely like one, terrified you. 

Your novels were to blame. They had raised your expectations for friendship as they raised your expectations for love. Romance was all you ever read, but characters had other relationships as well–  friendships. Friends who would break a love interest’s bones if they dared to break the main character’s heart. Friends who always had each other’s backs and would move mountains for the other.

Or perhaps those novels were to blame but for a different reason. You preferred a quiet afternoon of light reading to a garden party with constricting walls. Books were a thousand times better than polite snickers and compliments laced with venom. You were on the edge of your seat whenever you read about a passionate kiss and drained every time you attended an event. There was no competition between the two. 

Either way, you were greedy. Selfish, even. Despite all the money at your disposal, you wanted true love and true friendship, two of the rarest things in Hightown. No aristocrat could afford love in any form.

You sighed once more. You were ruminating instead of getting through your paperwork again. The witching hour was near and it was getting cold. The candlelight flickered in the evening breeze. You drew your shawl closer to your chest as you rose from your seat. You picked up your brass chamberstick and made your way to your balcony window to draw the curtains. As you approached the glass pane, the wind rushed past you and your candle wick snuffed itself out. Your brows furrowed. The breeze just now was far stronger than the one earlier. This one was more of a gale… which was strange. You were stationed at your desk with your window open for several hours. The breezes that came into your room barely swayed the curtains. The one just now threw your curtains into disarray. You shook your head and grabbed onto the window latch. Were you that drowsy? You read before that lacking sleep was akin to being drunk. The window shut with an audible click and you spun your heel, ready to turn in for the night.

Your eyes widened, locking onto a pair of brilliant, bright green orbs. Your bedroom was shrouded in darkness, but those eyes were shining like emeralds. You could not make out the rest of the person’s face, but you were certain that their eyes were as wide as yours. You squinted. Broad shoulders. Broad everything, really. Tall too. Short hair, probably. A man? No, a burglar! A burglar in your room! You opened your mouth and he put his hands up as if he was steadying a rabid animal.

“Easy. I’m not looking for trouble. I just– whoa!”

Most definitely a man. His voice was not too deep, but it also was too deep for it to be fake. Unless he was an actor? You had seen actors at the theater reach incredible lows with their voices before. But what kind of actor snuck around an estate this late at night? Most of them were well-off. Regardless, such a possibility was still plausible. Come to think of it… This bulgar sounded young. Not young like a child, but he didn’t sound like an old geezer either. Was he around your age? You pursed your lips. Oh this was no time for pondering such things! You scanned your desk for other objects to hurl at him. Though that chamberstick you just threw was likely the most threatening thing you had on hand, you grabbed the thesaurus that sat by your unsent letters. 

Normally, you used it to lengthen your replies to dukes and duchesses. You used it to craft flowery words, flattering compliments and faulty excuses as to why you could not attend their monthly croquet games. Normally, when you turned around after closing your window, you were met with the sight of your bed. It was extravagantly large, enough to fit three people and dozens of throw pillows and stuffed animals. Normally, the path from the window and your bed was clear. All you had to do was walk straight and flop onto your comforter. 

But as with most norms, there were exceptions. Tonight was one of them. You took a deep breath. The intruder lowered his hands, sighing in relief. You seemed to have calmed down… or so he thought. You grunted and launched the book towards the intruder like a javelin. He ducked in the nick of time once again, rolling over to his side. The thesaurus collided with the flower vase on your nightstand, shattering it. 

“Shit.”

You gasped, hands quick to cover your mouth. If your nanny heard you just now, you would never see the light of day. Not only were your words profane, your actions were the exact opposite of graceful. 

The grip on your face tightened. The intruder was not moving. He was lying on his back, limbs sprawled everywhere. Your breath hitched. Could he be…? Would that make you a…? 

Your palms began to sweat as you knelt down by his body. You closed your eyes and nudged his side with the tip of your fingers. He didn’t budge. You leaned forward, peering over his body, curious like a kitten with a fishbowl. He was most definitely a man. Your vision had slightly adjusted to the dark. Nothing in sight was as clear as day, but nothing in sight was a blur either. He was indeed tall with broad shoulders. Muscular from the looks of it, but not too burly. The dark trench coat and dagger sold the look of a vandal. Albeit, he was easy on the eyes. You paused, shaking those senseless thoughts out of your head. Vehemently. He was an intruder. A trespasser. A burglar. Possibly a–

Wait. A sharp inhale. An abrupt movement. You shrunk back as his eyes fluttered open. A gloved hand flew out and clamped over your mouth, pushing your back onto the side of your bed and pinning you there– before you could muster a cry for help. Both of your own hands wrapped around his wrist, a feeble attempt to pry him off of you. He put an index finger to his lips and flashed his green eyes at you. Quiet. 

He lowered his hand when you nodded. You took a deep breath and let out half a scream before his hand was on your mouth again. He flashed his eyes at you once more. Don’t.

This time, he lowered his hand, but kept it near you just the same. His other hand rested a few inches away from your ankles, trapping you in between your bedside and himself. One hand to guard your upper body and the other for your legs– should you try to escape. You could feel the warmth radiating through his gloves. He shifted some of his weight on the hand by your ankles, raising the temperature of the room as well as your cheeks. 

“I’m not looking for trouble. Honest,” he whispered

“Is breaking and entering not trouble?”

“... Suppose, I only entered.”

“Without permission,” you deadpanned. 

“Nothing was broken.”

You glanced at the very much broken vase on the floor and he gave you a dry laugh. Technically, you broke it, but chances are it would have stayed intact if it were not for him. 

“I could fix it for you,” he offered.

“Fix it?”

“If you’d like.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

He smiled and held his hand up like he was solemnly swearing an oath. You tilted your head to the side as a pale green mist-like aura materialized and swirled around his fingers. He turned his hand, grabbing the ends of it, pinching with his thumb and index finger. Then, he pulled the mist downward. It was a swift motion. You blinked and then leaves and petals had formed. They were the same pale green as the mist from earlier. You looked at him and then his hand. He brought his creation closer to your hand. Your fingers brushed his when you took the flower. You gasped as the flower disappeared upon contact. 

“With a little magic.” 

“Are you a mage?”

“Something like that.” 

“From the Senobium?”

“I’m more of a freelancer,” he said with a click of his tongue. His brows were cross and his emerald eyes momentarily lost their shimmer and shine. 

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

“My lady? My lady? Is everything alright?” a voice called. 

You froze. The intruder did as well.

The door swung open and your maid, Adaline, entered before you could even say “come in”. Light poured into your bedroom, casting distinct shadows onto the carpet. You were able to get a good look at your intruder’s face now. The same green eyes. Olive skin with deep and noticeable eye bags. Dark hair that framed his face and a long scar across his left cheek that ran down to his forearm. He was most certainly easy on the eyes. You scowled and pushed him off of you, shooting straight up from your position. 

“My lady?” 

He laid on his back, bringing both his hands behind his head. He shot you a shy, toothy grin. You frowned. He was far too lax. From Adalines’s perspective, you were standing by your bed, an ordinary sight. If she came any closer, there would be a man on your bedroom floor along with flower petals and shards of ceramic. If you told her there was an intruder, she would inform the guards immediately. But what would he do? He was a mage. You did not know the full extent of his capabilities. He had a dagger on him and you were wearing slippers. He was knee-deep in trouble, but you were the one dripping with beads of sweat. Decisions, decisions, decisions. 

“Yes!” you squeaked. You cleared your throat, “Yes. Yes, I am fine. Wonderful. Fantastic, even! Did you need something?”

“No, my lady. I just heard a scream. And something shattering. A loud commotion from your room. I came to check on you.” 

“I stubbed my toe,” you replied coolly.

“Goodness! I’ll fetch the physician–”

“No!” 

“No?”

“No… need to disturb him! Especially at this hour. It’s late. I will manage.” 

“If that is what you wish, my lady,” she bowed, “I will return to my quarters now. Please try to get some sleep tonight as well. You have a big day tomorrow.”

“Do I?”

“Yes… with the Duke of Cromwell. Have you forgotten?”

“It would seem that I have,” you said, rubbing your temples. “Thank you for reminding me, Adaline. I will do just that.” 

“Will you?” She narrowed her eyes. Her gaze was stern. 

“Pardon?” Your palms were getting clammy. There was a reason you read stories instead of telling tall tales.  

“Forgive me, my lady. It’s just… you have a tendency to stay up late reading long after you say goodnight.” 

You sheepishly tittered and glanced at the bookshelf behind you. Such a conjecture was not too far off. Prior to your debutante, you spent your evenings reading till dawn. Adaline caught you in the act on numerous occasions. If you were not so busy these days, she would have hit the nail on the head. 

“Alright, alright. I will retire for the night now. Goodnight, Adaline,” you surrendered.

Your maid crossed her arms. You sighed and climbed into your bed, pulling the blankets up to your shoulders. You closed your eyes for good measure. A moment passed and you opened one eye to catch a glimpse of her pleased expression. 

“Goodnight, my lady,” she smiled and with another curt bow, she dismissed herself, closing the door behind her. 

Once her footsteps were out of earshot, you sprung up and threw your sheets to the side. The intruder was already sitting up. Your flower vase sat on his lap. True to his word, he was fixing it with magic. One hand held a shard of ceramic close to his face while a finger from his other hand traced the edges with a thin line of chartreuse. He then attached the shard to the vase. As he did, the magic evaporated, leaving behind a gold vein in between the cracks. The gold did not fade like the green aura. 

“What are you doing with the gold?”

“It’s kind of like an adhesive,” he explained, turning the vase onto its side. He picked up another shard and traced the edge with his finger, leaving a metallic sheen behind, then affixed it to the vase’s main “body”.  

You swung your feet over the edge of your bed and leaned forward, “I do not mean to undermine your magical prowess, Mr. Mage, but when you said magic… I was expecting something a little more–”

“Flashy?”

Your eyes fell to the ground and nodded. 

“Usually it is. I like to put on a show but I’m running a little low on mana right now. I’ll give you the full experience next time.” 

“Next time?”

“If you’d like to stop by Lowtown one of these days.”

“What makes you think I would stop by?” you asked, crossing your arms, “You are a stranger who broke into my bedroom in the dead of night, claimed that you were not looking for trouble yet you laid your hands on me and pinned me down. Accepting an invitation like that is akin to walking into a lion’s den.”

“I thought we’d be okay now since you didn’t alert your maid,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Forgive me. I did not have much of a choice. I was worried my life would be on the line if I was not quiet about your presence,” you huffed. 

“Ha... sorry about that… but thank you.”

“Thank you?” 

“For not turning me in even if you were a little scared. I promise you that I’m not looking for trouble. I would never harm you either.” 

You raised a brow. He said that same phrase quite a few times now.

“Then what brings you to my estate?”

“I… got into trouble elsewhere and needed somewhere to hide. I saw the window was open and jumped inside,” his jaw was taut and his eyes never met with yours.  

“Not looking for trouble, huh?”

He sighed, “Look, I’m not a bad guy. I was just doing a… commission.”

“That sounds like something an assassin would say.” 

“I’m not an assassin.” 

“What kind of commission has you working so late?” you asked, glancing at his dagger. He clutched the hilt and you inhaled sharply. He locked his gaze with yours as he let go of the handle as quick as he was to grab it. The glint in his eyes ceased.

“A client wanted me to retrieve something at your neighbor’s house.”

“Should you be disclosing the details of your robberies to me, Mr. Mage?” 

“Is it stealing if it didn’t belong to them in the first place?” His eyes were dark and hooded as he looked up at you. A shiver ran down your spine. 

“Oh so you are a chivalrous thief. From those fairytales.” 

“Something like that,” he said with a laugh. 

You were jesting, but your heart skipped a beat. The idea of a thief that steals from the rich and gives to the poor being real was alluring. Enchanting. And perhaps too good to be true. You pressed your lips together. He only said “something like that” and you were already daydreaming. You knew better than to take someone’s word at face value, but an occasional reverie never hurt. Head in the clouds and weight off your shoulders– it was the most marvelous feeling. 

Porcelain clinked against the wooden surface of your nightstand, checking you in with the reality that was right in front of you. The mage finished repairing your vase. Thin veins of gold were strewn across the ceramic much like the scar that traveled from his left cheek down to his forearms. They were a clear indicator that the vase was broken at one point, but admittedly, there was some charm to it. The gold glistened in the moonlight and paired well with your gilded furniture. 

“Do you like it?�� he asked.

You hummed and nodded. ‘It was lovely,’ you wanted to say. 

The mage grunted as he bent down to salvage the flowers on your carpet. They lost a petal or two, but other than that they were fine. He did not seem too agree, vexation coloring his face.  

“I’ll get you some new flowers tomorrow,” he said, placing the barely withered flowers into the vase. 

“You do not have to.”

“I insist.”

“Really, I–”

“It’s the least I can do for breaking and entering.”

He smiled when you turned speechless. You groaned, “Alright, but you must come by in the evening. If a man were to be spotted in my room, it would be the talk of the town.”  

“As you wish, my lady.” 

Heat crept up your cheeks as he took your hand and pressed a firm yet gentle kiss on your knuckles, searing that area of your skin with a warm, fuzzy sensation. You stared at your hand as he straightened his posture and walked towards your window as if nothing had transpired. You held your breath as you watched him open your window and climb onto the balcony railing. The evening breeze welcomed itself into your bedroom once more. It was stronger this time, swaying your curtains, but it was not cold. 

“Wait!” 

You put a hand over your mouth. Words slipped through your lips before you could even process them. But it was too late for any kind of contemplation. The mage had paused and turned around. 

“Could I get your name?” 

“Leander,” he said. His emerald eyes flickered. They were somehow brighter than before. Eyes could not smile, but the way he looked at you made you think otherwise.  

“Leander,” you repeated softly.

“And you?”

“I am Lady (y/n) of the Sci–,” you grimaced and cleared your throat. A force of habit.  You rehearsed that line more times than you can count. It was a formal introduction for you and your family name, reserved for conversations with noble socialites and grand party entrances. You found them redundant yourself so you would do well sparing a somewhat chivalrous thief the formalities. “Just (y/n) is fine.”

“Just (y/n),” he repeated.

You rolled your eyes and Leander beamed in response. He turned his back to you once more and jumped off the balcony, disappearing into the night with a flurry of misty green flower petals. You rushed out onto the decking, peering over the handrail. Sure enough, Leander was gone, but your smile remained. 

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Sunday, July 28th

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[snake-in-the-garden]

Chapter 4 is Here!!!

Banner by @chazz-anova​

Chapter 4: Word Gets Around

Summary: Ramona becomes a special interest to Eden’s Gate.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw/Ramona Belmont

Rating: M (for now)

Word count: 7.1k (oh god...!)

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of past r*pe/s*xual assault, panic attacks, brief plane jacket slander, John and Jacob being themselves

A/N: Hey there...It's been too long since the last chapter due to me loosing some motivation to write everyday when winter hit. There's just something about the cold air and early night time that just takes a toll on me. Anyway I felt so bad about basically disappearing for months, I made this chapter way too long for what I usually write and it still came out like it was rushed. Ugh...Thanks to those who were patiently waiting to see more of Ramona and happy reading!

Taglist: @euaveri @turbo-virgins @eur0paa-2 @strafethesesinners @henbased @adelaidedrubman(I guess both of our girls aren’t special) @aceghosts @shallow-gravy​ @alexmalikplays @gxmergurl @thomrainer @lost-poets-poetry @svsunflowers @mr-krinkle  @jfsfjjj

Prev. Chapters: Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3

Masterlist || Taglist

Read it here or on Ao3

~~~

"I think an apology is in order," Mary May admitted. "From me, of course." Ramona arched an eyebrow as she stopped sipping on the red, fizzy beverage the blonde had gifted her. "You strutted in them Jimmy Choo's got me thinkin' you were one of John's people," Mary May continued. "I thought Sharky had made the same mistake as last time and I just went off makin' you think I was some sorta bigot." Speaking of Sharky, he had just left the bar a bit ago to check if the garage in town was open or not. Ramona would've gone herself if Sharky hadn't insisted.

"This happened before?" Ramona asked, resting her head in her hand.

"Sharky had brought one of them Peggie girls in here some years ago." Mary May grimaced at the memory. "She started goin' on about 'The Father this' and 'The Father that' so much I had to kick 'em out."

"I assume 'The Father' is Eden's Gate's leader," Ramona inferred.

"Yeah. Joseph Seed. Some man-bunned, shirtless weirdo who convinced practically half of the fuckin' county that he's some sorta prophet," the bartender informed. "But he's not the only one you should worry about."

Ramona leaned closer to Mary May, bracing herself on the counter with her forearms. "Pray tell."

"Well the one you just met was John, the youngest brother," Mary May began. "He's the cult's recruitment lapdog and the reason they're able to 'get away' with alotta shady shit." She rubbed her forefinger and thumb together to indicate someone being in someone else's pockets. "Then you got the oldest brother, Jacob. You can't miss 'em. He's a redheaded biggun who's basically the muscle of the cult. And finally there's Faith. She ain't blood but she's just as creepy as the rest of 'em."

Ramona sensed the blonde wasn't quite telling her everything about Eden's Gate. If these people were doing "illegal shit," she wanted to know about it. But with the way Mary May's voice slightly trembled and her blue eyes kept shifting, it probably wasn't a topic she wanted to be pressed about.

"Either way just keep away from 'em. You don't wanna get involved."

"I'll do what I can. Though I doubt I could avoid John since I'm so 'fascinating' to him."

"Oh please, you're not the only woman who's rejected him. He'll find someone else to harass. Probably."

"And here I thought I was special."

Mary May snorted.

~~~

"I didn't think one woman could get you like this." John grunted at the comment as he laid out on the couch with his arm resting on his face. The one who made the comment was Jacob sitting across from him.

"I'm not 'like' anything. I just hate how fast those sinners can act when it comes to corrupting someone," John frets as he sits up.

"From what you described, I can tell she ain't the type to fall for your 'charms' so easily," Jacob inferred while crossing his arms. "Considering she'd rather hang around the redneck and the barmaid."

John grimaced at his brother's statement. "She was just so…vicious. Wouldn't even entertain the thought of hearing me out for even a second. She was gorgeous though."

"I'm sure she was." the redhead stated as he set his feet up on the coffee table. John glared at the action only for Jacob to ignore it. "But it shouldn't be your dick's decision who we add to our ranks. It's Joseph's decision."

"Speaking of which; isn't Joseph supposed to be here by now?"

The two brothers were waiting on Joseph at the Seed Ranch to give their weekly reports on their recent progress with their work within the Project and to have dinner later. John and Jacob were both sure that it was Faith making Joseph late. Before anything else could be said, the front doors opened alerting them to Joseph entering the Ranch with Faith following close behind. John and Jacob stood up to make their way to the foyer to properly welcome their leader. "Good afternoon, brothers," Joseph greeted fondly. "I have something truly important I want to share with you." The siblings moved to the dining room while John ordered one of the faithful who were stationed at a Ranch to make coffee for them.

As the siblings settled, Joseph let out a heavy sigh, bringing in the others undivided attention. "The Voice spoke to me the night before and has told me that a wayward soul would come to us seeking answers." He then turned to John. "I've heard you met someone today at The Spread Eagle. A woman with brown skin, long black hair, and a tattoo in the middle of her back?" The youngest Seed pondered to himself about how much Joseph knew of the incident; half hoping that all he knew was that they talked. If you could call what happened "talking." 

"Yes Joseph. A serpent and roses to be exact," John started as he sat up straighter. "My men made it known to me about a young woman coming into the county and I went to the bar to greet her. But it doesn't seem like she'd be seeking anything from us."

Joseph stiffened. "What do you mean?" The other siblings could feel the tension settling within the room. "Did something happen?"

"It was awful. She was so quick to be dismissive of our cause due to those sinners and---!" John faltered.

"Please John, calm yourself," Joseph soothed while still ridgid. "What are you trying to say?"

John took a breath. "All I'm saying is as it would please me to cleanse her, this woman's soul is probably too far gone due to the corruption of--."

Joseph held his hand up; silencing John's ramblings. The Prophet then stood up to look out the window. Hands behind his back and lets out a sigh. "Hey Joe, if you don't mind me asking," the eldest Seed spoke up, wanting to take his brother's coldness off of John. "Why did the 'Voice' deem this woman so damn important apart from the rest of the 'wayward souls' we took in before?" It was already known to Joseph that Jacob didn't believe in the higher power his brother answered to and he didn't expect him to. All Joseph asked from their protector was his loyalty.

Joseph turned back around to face his siblings. All waiting to hear his words. "The Voice has told me this woman would bring about a great upheaval to everything we've worked so hard on if she doesn't see the light and come join our family to help us guide our flock through the Gate into New Eden." A heavy weight was suddenly felt by the Heralds as their leader finished speaking. It usually wasn't so difficult for them to get people to join The Project. Unfortunate people with nowhere else to go were easy to attract when Eden's Gate advertised love and protection to any and everyone. The only price would be their unwavering devotion.

"And by 'upheaval' you mean…?" It was Faith's turn to speak up.

"The deaths of our faithful by the thousands, the destruction of our community, and the…downfall of our family," Joseph finished as he grasped Faith's shoulder warmly as if not to lose her to an unknown future. "So it's crucial we don't dawdle with this. Especially now."

The weight the Heralds felt earlier magnified after the Father's elaboration. "We won't disappoint you, Joseph," John impulsively exclaimed, feeling that last comment was directed at him. He hoped his enthusiasm would make up for his supposed transgression from earlier. He then looked to the other two, expecting them to follow along. They simply nodded. Joseph smiled in appreciation of their loyalty. "I'm sorry if I scared you, but I just needed you all to know how important it is for her to join our family," he explained while getting up to leave the room. The others stood up with him. "If there's nothing else to be discussed, I think I'll see how that garden John mentioned the other day is doing before we start dinner." Happy to get his brother out of the room, John gave a quick "of course" and signaled two of his faithful on standby to accompany their leader in the backyard.

Just as Joseph leaves the room, John exhales. "I'm glad that's over." It was unknown if the other two felt the same, but it was likely that the feeling wasn't mutual.

"So, how are we doin' this?" Jacob asked. "Like Joe said, we can't exactly wait around for her."

"She just needs more convincing," John assured, not letting on what that would entail.

"We can't hurt her or anything," Faith chimed in. "The Father wouldn't like that."

"I know!" he retorted, causing her to make an amused noise at his reaction. "We're just going to have to be smart about this."

We're? Jacob and Faith weren't usually included when it came to recruiting people for the Project, but they weren't going to question anything John was about to suggest. Especially since time was of the essence.

~~~

It looked exactly how it did in the pictures. One story, simple porch with a swing, huge front yard, a garage shed big enough for Rosa, and a field across the road. Ramona didn't know if she should be relieved to have finally made it to her new home or regretful for making such an impulsive decision. How was she going to manage a house like this? She knows it's already furnished, but there were other things she probably should've considered before coming here. A reliable food source, job security, clothing, and--!

"Hey, what's up? Thought I lost you for a second," Sharky exclaimed, waving his hand in front of Ramona's face and interrupting her frantic thoughts. She had forgotten that he was even here, which was kind of bad of her to do since if it wasn't for him, she would still be stuck on the side of the road. "Sorry Sharky. I was just taking it all in," Ramona explained while trying not to get put off by the blue eyes studying her face. "Thank you for doing this for me by the way. You probably had other things to do rather than help me." Sharky rubbed the back of his neck and grinned. "Nah it was nothin'. But to tell you the truth, I was supposed to meet up with my cousin Hurk…" He frowned as he checked his watch. "...two hours ago." Ramona noticed the negative shift in his tone of voice and decided she had taken enough of his time. Most of that time being used to get a new battery, driving back to Rosa to install it, and then following Sharky here.

"Then you should probably get going. You don't want to keep him waiting."

"It's alright. I can help with your bags."

"Do you wanna get out of here?" 

An unpleasant memory took hold just after Sharky made his offer. She turned her back. "No. You've done enough. Please leave."

Sharky exhaled noisily through his pursed lips and abruptly took a step backwards away from the woman's sudden coldness. For Ramona, it was already bad enough she had to show some guy she just met where she was going to be living, now he wanted to come inside? Alone with her? No way. "Alright. That's fine. I see where you're gettin' at. I'll go," Sharky complied, sounding dismayed. For a split second, Ramona wanted to turn around to say she had changed her mind. But when she actually did, he was already heading back to his truck. Accepting her missed chance, Ramona trudges on to Rosa to finally unload her. "Hey 'Mona!" She turned her attention to Sharky, who Ramona thought would've left already.

"Welcome to Hope County!" There was that crooked smile again.

And with that, Sharky takes off in his truck leaving Ramona confused about how this guy felt about her. It wasn't too much of a concern, but it was pretty weird for someone to shake off having the cold shoulder being directed at them. Oh well.

~~~

"Mrs. Belmont, I know you're upset, but I don't think we can classify this incident as anything more than a misunderstanding turning into a physical altercation." An older, timid man's voice is heard. "Happens all the time with students."

"Bullshit. This 'misunderstanding' scarred my baby's face because she didn't want some nasty boy putting his hands on her." Ramona then hears the outraged voice of her mother.

"The other student has already claimed in his statement that you're daughter fell after--"

"After he tried to rape her."

Ramona heard a huff of frustration next to her followed by a gentle hand rubbing her back after hearing her mother spit out the accusation. It was the soothing hand of Ramona's father who had let his wife handle the meeting.

"It's gonna be okay Rammy." After hearing her father's words, Ramona turned her head to see his reassuring face.

But she never gets to as Ramona's dream fades to white. She wakes up to an unfamiliar ceiling which gets her heart racing. Ramona shoots up from her laying position and frantically looks around her new home only to realize she fell asleep on the couch. Ramona puts her head in her hands to calm herself, feeling moisture on her palms. It's okay. Waking up to tears in her eyes after having that dream wasn't anything new for her.

You're okay. You're okay.

Ramona's legs wobbled a bit as she stood up to see one of her unpacked bags at her feet. She sighed to herself realizing all the work which still needed to be done. The woman looked at her phone to see that it was almost 10:30 pm, realized she'd napped for way too long, and decided all that would be "next day Ramona's" problem. It was time for bed anyway. Ramona did her usual nighttime hair routine, brushed her teeth, and changed into one of the sets of pajamas she'd brought. Ramona didn't think much of her new bedroom. It was simple and minimally decorated with the essentials. Basically a blank canvas setup for her to project herself on to make this house into a home. Her home. Ramona settled into bed and tried to ignore the slight musty smell the comforter gave off. Maybe she'll finish that dream.

~~~

It was the crack of dawn when Ramona was able to call her parents, letting them know she made it to Hope County okay. But that was after multiple "fine's", "alright's", and "okay's" in response to her mother's light scolding about not calling sooner and her father's repetitive questions about Rosa's condition. Even though she wasn't able to get a full sentence in, hearing her parent's voices soothed Ramona's nerves. Somehow during their conversation, her mother mentioned a letter left somewhere in the house for her to read. Ramona assured her she'd read it later.

The woman was now free to assess what she needed to do for today. The lingering smell of must and her stomach growling suggested her first two tasks of the day. Good thing she remembered the general store in Fall's End. As she combed out her hair, a loud, rapid knocking was heard, startling Ramona. Who could that be? No seriously. Who else knows she's living here besides Sharky? She doubts he'd come back after being on the receiving end of her iciness from yesterday but anything could happen. If it is him, Ramona would just take this as an opportunity to apologize. Something told her Sharky would accept it.

The knocking continued to Ramona's annoyance as she quickly threw on a hoodie while hurrying to the front door. The woman then frowned when she opened the door and saw it was actually John, holding a thick white book under his arm, who decided to drop by. Along with two other men, both wearing white uniforms, who were of course, glaring at her. "Good morning," John greeted, showing off that smile again.

"Uh…good morning to you too?" It was the only thing Ramona could say after believing she wouldn't see this man again anytime soon. "What brings you by?"

John gave out a light chuckle. "I didn't mean to disturb you so early, but I felt it was imperative for you and I to make amends after what happened yesterday," he informed while inching closer to her. "May I come in? I was hoping we could talk some more too." 

Ramona held out her hand; palm almost touching her visitor's chest. "You and I are good out here."

"PIease, I must insist. I want to make this right with you."

"And I must insist we're good out here." Ramona closes the door behind her and leans against it to make her point even clearer. "So let's talk."

Why are the men around here so eager to come into my home? John let out a soft sigh and clutched his book. "Alright. Have it your way then." He then signaled his men to step away from them so the two could have some privacy. The men nodded and obeyed without a second thought. "Now let me start off by saying I'm sorry for how…brash I was yesterday at the bar," John offered. "It was shameful of me to make such a bad first impression on you." Despite how obvious it was that John could have other intentions behind this, Ramona could at least hear some remorse in his voice. But she couldn't let her guard down just yet.

"Well John, I appreciate you coming to--."

John casually cuts her off. "I would also like to take this opportunity to properly introduce to you the key to your salvation." He cradled the white hardcover within his forearm, proudly presenting it to Ramona. "Without any distractions." It was titled The Word of Joseph.

There it is.

Ramona wasn't too enthused about having to listen to a possible cult member's spiel about her needing to be "saved." She's still not sure from what exactly. John had hastily mentioned the Collapse yesterday which sparked her curiosity. Ramona nodded, indicating to her guest that he could start. "Eden's Gate is a loving community for lost souls who have been wronged by the world and corrupted by sin," John commenced. "It is our job to cleanse those of their sins in order for them to enter through the Gate after the Collapse so that we can create a new world." Ramona crossed her arms after hearing what sounded like another one of those "it's the end times so give us your money" pitches televangelists like to use. "Is that what you think I am; a 'lost soul'?" Ramona questioned. "What makes you think this? We literally just met yesterday." John tucked the book back under his arm and straightened up the tacky looking jacket he was wearing; preparing for another pitch.

"My older brother Joseph, or The Father as he's lovingly referred to, has recently told my siblings and I you were meant to join our family," John informed, again stepping closer. "A wayward soul looking for a place in the world. Something we could provide for you."

Ramona put her hands on her hips. "Again, I ask. What makes you think that?" she asks, increasingly getting more annoyed.

"Impatient, aren't we?" he commented teasingly. "I saw you were a young woman traveling alone, willing to practically jump into the arms of anyone who looked your way. No matter how unsavory their true intentions were." John's tone darkens at the last part.

Ramona rolled her eyes at his claim. Yes, it was true she impulsively got into a car with a complete stranger, but she didn't have a choice. Plus Sharky respected her boundaries right off the bat when she established them. "I never 'jumped' into anyone's arms. I was offered help and I took it," Ramona retorted. Possibly a little too defensively. "Besides, it's none of your business I'm traveling alone." John took another step closer, causing her to step back. "Actually, we at Eden's Gate make it our business to keep those vulnerable enough from being dragged down into the trenches of sin," John states eerily, his blue gaze momentarily stunning the woman. "And Miss. Fairgrave was willing to do just that." Ramona's ears perked up when he mentioned Mary May.

"What does she have to do with anything?"

"Miss. Fairgrave and I had our…quarrels in the past."

"Quarrels? What happened?"

"She just couldn't accept her brother wanting to be with us. Obviously envious of the close bond he had with the rest of the congregation and tried so desperately to take that happiness away from him."

Ramona was silent; recounting how hateful Mary May was of Peggies and wondering if what John was saying was even true. Probably not.

John continued. "To cope with this, she and her lot spread lies about Eden's Gate to anyone who would believe them."

"Right…So the claim of you using money to get whatever Eden's Gate is doing around legal barriers is not true then?"

With the way John immediately frowned and glowered after the woman's probing question; it was obvious she made a mistake. "I don't mean any harm. I just need to know what--." Ramona's explanation was cut short as John abruptly strides forward to firmly thrust the book against her chest, causing her to be essentially trapped between her guest and the front door hard on her shoulder blades. Causing her to panic. "We do what is necessary to secure the future of Eden's Gate," John said harshly, increasing the pressure on Ramona's chest causing her. "Some may not agree with our methods, but I assure you, Miss. 'Bel-mawn', you will reconsider your ill-conceived notions about us if you take the time to listen." Along with being blindsided by John's sudden ambush, Ramona's blood ran cold when her last name, though mispronounced, fell from John's lips. She had never told him her name and had made it quite clear he didn't deserve to know yesterday. It was doubtful either Mary May or Sharky had told John; especially since she didn't even tell them her last name.

"Who told you my last name?" Ramona demanded, strained and on the verge of having a panic attack.

"This residence's previous owner," John complied. "Your uncle."

James! "How do you know him?" she pressed.

"I didn't personally know him. But a few years ago I paid him and his wife a visit to welcome them to the county and introduce them to Eden's Gate."

Ramona continued staring at him. "Go on."

"Well I couldn't really give a proper introduction due to him interrupting me with stories of his travels which ultimately lead him here. And his wife…spirited…shooed me out saying they weren't interested and they never will be," John reminisced bitterly. Possibly showing a bit of his true self.

Ramona had to fight to keep her face from cracking into a smile at the thought of James and Jackie giving John the runaround to avoid his proselytizing. She almost forgot her current situation. He continued. "But through all that nonsense, your uncle kept bringing up a certain someone. Someone I thought I'd never run into after all this time." John took a moment to caress a loose raven tress belonging to his captive before he got close to her ear.

"His favorite niece; Ramona Octavia Belmont," he chillingly whispered.

Ramona thought nothing of it when she gathered her strength and sent John tumbling backwards off the porch and onto the ground. Her personal space had been violated far enough. After hearing their superior's yelps of pain as he landed, the men rushed to John's aid.

"Brother John! Are you okay!?" one fretted.

"How dare you lay your filthy hands upon our Baptist!?" the other scolded.

"You're unworthy in receiving the Father's Word!" the first one accused.

Ramona remained on the porch, looking down at them heavily panting, only getting more pissed off. "Here, take it then!" the irate woman shouted while throwing John's "gift" near them. "Tell Joseph he's got the wrong woman 'cause I don't want the 'key to my salvation' if it means I have to deal with some creep who doesn't know the meaning of personal space!" Ramona would be lying if she didn't think seeing John flat on his ass in the dirt was amusing, but of course, in a moment of clarity, she realized this was the exact opposite of what she was advised to do. That clarity caused Ramona to almost immediately regret her actions when she realized she could be arrested for this. Even if John was the one who started it. The woman's heart started to pound as she braced for his reaction, but John just sat there hanging his head. Ramona thought about saying something to him but decided against it assuming she'd just make it worse for herself.

"You know Miss. Belmont. All of that…anger you harbor deep inside needs to be cleansed. Which I as your future Baptist will personally see to," John affirmed, ignoring the insult while sporting a wicked, chilling smile. Ramona felt a slight surge of nausea. "The Project has a place for you, especially someone of your profession. A social worker who gives counsel to those in need is someone who'd be perfect for us." Ramona just stood there unimpressed by his shallow praises and also wondering how much James had told this man about her. "If you're offering me a job, I'll have to decline," she dismissed while stepping a few paces forward. One of John's men quickly helped him up while the other scrambled to collect the sullied book from the dusty ground. Both looked hopeful to see him stand up against his assailant. John proceeded to casually dust himself off.

"Are you sure that is a wise decision to make? Financially managing a property of this size might be too much for one woman. Perhaps I could take it off your--," John began.

"No, that's not happening. Besides, it's already paid off," Ramona shot back, taking her turn to interrupt him for a change. "In fact, I have the documents to show for it."

"I bet you do," he responded sourly. "But you are sorely mistaken if you really think material possessions will help you during the Collapse."

"Then what will help, huh?" she challenged, hotly. "Tell me so you can leave already."

To Ramona's surprise, John didn't retort with a quick remark at her prodding. All the man did was signal to his men to hand him the book. The order is followed and John once again presents his gift to Ramona. "Perhaps I'm going about this the wrong way," he states. "I believe you should hear it from the Father himself. He's better at this." The way John said that made it obvious he was getting tired of her too. Ramona looks down at the book. "Huh? I thought I made myself clear I didn't want the--." John held his hand up. "I know. I'm telling you the Father is giving a sermon about the Collapse this Sunday and will be delighted to answer any questions you may have. The address is behind the front cover," he noted earnestly. "But if you choose not to come, will you at least take his Word? I won't bother anymore after today if you do." Ramona sighed and promptly took the book from him, doubting he'd even keep his promise.

"I'll at least think about it. But if I do come to the sermon, it won't mean I'm joining your cult."

"It's not a--! Of course. But every cynic I've met says that at first, but then sees the light after they hear--."

"I mean it! I'm only going for myself and for you to leave me alone."

"So you will be attending?"

"Get off my property!"

While slightly startled by Ramona's outburst, John kept his promise as he and his men made their way back to the white truck they came in. "Farewell Miss. Belmont, I hope to see you this Sunday," John bids. The woman didn't say anything back as she stormed back into her house and slammed the door behind her. Ramona let out a short cry of frustration when she angrily threw the book a few feet away from herself, causing a harsh, loud thud on the wooden floor kicking dust up. She pressed her back against the front door and slid down to the floor when her legs felt weak. Reeling from the ordeal, dizziness and a rapid heart rate from earlier took hold while a ringing noise resonated within her head. Ramona started to feel hot and short of breath, so she clumsily removed her hoodie for supposed relief. But it wasn't enough. The pounding in her chest causes her to curl up on the floor, trembling and hyperventilating. The combinations of these symptoms were all too familiar to Ramona as a quick memory of her alone in her college dorm in the same position flashed in her mind. Despite the pains in her chest and nausea, Ramona forces herself to sit up halfway to regain control.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. He can't hurt you. You are safe now. As Ramona inhaled and exhaled, she thought back to all the times she had to do this exercise to get through the first part of freshman year. She hoped these episodes won't be a common occurrence since Ramona wanted a fresh start, but achieving that seemed impossible now. Although Ramona had told John "no" to joining Eden's Gate and denied their "prophecy," she still made it known her interest was piqued; so it was likely they would still try to convince her. The dulling ache in her chest and decreasing heart rate allowed Ramona to sit up fully and the softening buzzing in her ear and her body stabilizing enabled her to think clearly. Ramona decided it would probably be best to listen to Mary May's advice more carefully and avoid them as much as possible--starting now.

~~~

Finding the way back to Fall's End wasn't difficult. A few left turns and then a left was easy for Ramona to remember which is going to be important since the general store might be her only source for food and other essentials she'll need in the future. After finding an appropriate parking place for Rosa, the woman made her way into the store. She made note of the small size and the Americana decor; hoping the store owner's patriotism was just an aesthetic. To Ramona's surprise, she didn't draw any attention to herself like yesterday. She figured dressing in Hope County-appropriate attire she found in the closet would do that. Thanks Auntie. As Ramona proceeded to fulfill her shopping list of necessities, she overheard two people, a man and a woman dressed in hunting gear, talking a few feet away. Curiosity got the better of her.

"Do you really think we can keep living like this?" the woman asked, sounding stressed. "I don't think I can take any more of this."

"Would you rather we'd live like brainwashed zombies?" the man asked her in turn, using a tone Ramona didn't like. "Our bunker is the only safe place from them taking over."

"I got that. But stocking that bunker is making you and others paranoid about something that may not happen."

"We know what we're doing. You think those Seed-fuckers made their people tote around those guns just for show? We're just looking out for ourselves since the cops aren't doing anything."

Ramona didn't hear the woman's response when she left the aisle and moved on to the dairy section so she wouldn't get caught being nosey. Brainwashing? Guns? This new information about Eden's Gate made Ramona realize it probably had to do with the "illegal shit" Mary May hinted at. Despite not wanting to probe her anymore about uncomfortable topics, Ramona would've appreciated the heads up about a confirmed violent cult who now had their eyes on her. Now she's definitely sure John won't leave her alone and most likely lying about what really happened between him and Mary May.

Back to the task at hand. Ramona reached up to grab vanilla coffee creamer from the top shelf only for her nails to barely brush against it. She internally cursed her height and whoever made this refrigerator. Not wanting to completely give up, she tried again, but failed again when another hand easily grabbed it instead. The owner of the hand was a tall, curvy woman with long dark, curly hair and dark brown eyes which were warm and inviting. She was very pretty.

"Here you go," the woman offered. "This was what you wanted, right?" She was referring to the creamer.

"Yeah it was. Thank you." Ramona acknowledged while accepting the small carton.

"A word of advice. If you're going to be listening to other people's conversations; you should at least do it from somewhere they wouldn't see you," the woman suggested bluntly and flickered her eyes to the side.

Ramona's stomach dropped when she quickly turned her head to see the aforementioned couple, now scowling, rip their gaze away from the two women and shuffled off.

"I'm just telling you from experience."

Ramona couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed of herself. She swore off anything Eden's Gate related, but her curiosity about them kept piquing even though every new piece of information about them just kept getting worse. But then again, any knowledge about the cult would keep Ramona from being ignorant of anything that would pose them as a threat to her. Even if it wasn't coming from a direct source. Anything to not talk to the Seeds again. "Sorry for asking but, do you know anything about Eden's Gate?" she asked, "Also my name is Ramona." The woman pursed her plush lips and loosely crossed her arms under her chest. "Deirdre. I'm a vet at the F.A.N.G. Center in the mountains. I've been living here with my husband and his family for about 10 years, so I...uh….know enough," she divulged tentatively. "They're a doomsday cult preparing for the Collapse. An apocalyptic event." Ramona figured that much on her own. But it was way better than the common "stay away from them" she kept hearing.

"Is there any real way to get them off my back for good?"

"Nope. Since you just moved here, Eden's Gate is not going to leave you alone anytime soon. They love new people."

"Wait, how do you know I just moved here?"

Deirdre frowned and averted her eyes.

"Hey Dee, what's takin' you so long?" Ramona inhaled sharply when she saw the owner of the rough, male voice appear from behind the row of shelves beside them. "Oh. You made a friend." A tall, scarred man with red hair went to stand beside Deirdre, putting his large hand on her shoulder. Combined with Mary May's description and the J. Seed stitched on the sleeve of his camo jacket; she concluded this was Jacob Seed. Ramona made a quick glance at Deirdre. She was still avoiding eye contact. Ramona put two and two together and it all made sense. John probably told Jacob about what happened and probably wanted to take a crack at recruiting the "lost soul". Not to risk straining her neck anymore, Ramona backed up a bit to accommodate her intake of Jacob’s imposing stature. Which wasn’t a bad sight. She definitely didn't lie about the "biggun" and "muscle" part. 

"I thought you were waiting outside," Deirdre pointed out crossly.

"I was. But you were takin' too long and folks were givin' me the stink eye. 'Specially that idiot pilot." Jacob stated. He then pointed his gaze at Ramona. "So you're the woman my brother's been talkin' about?"

She sighs. "Yeah. Why? Is it your turn to harass me?" Ramona retorted, suddenly becoming bold. "One of you was bad enough today."

"Heh no. After what happened between you and Johnny, I don't think I wanna tangle with you," he teased. "'Sides, I don't do the door to door shit."

"Then what do you do?"

"All you need to know at the moment is that I keep the congregation safe. And in line."

Remembering the mention of guns earlier, Ramona had a pretty good guess about what that could mean. It wasn't something she wanted to discuss further with him and was grateful he didn't take it upon himself to do so. She looked at Deirdre. She wondered how deep her involvement with Eden's Gate went. If it was beyond being married to one of the brothers. Telling from her tone, Deirdre also didn't seem too interested in discussing anything. Which was also fine. But she could help but be worried. Black women and religious cults run by white men have never been a good match. "I should probably finish up and pay for these," Ramona spoke up, sensing an opportunity to leave. "It was nice talking to you." Deirdre perked up. "I can pay for your groceries if you want," she suggested. "Y'know for your troubles." Jacob made a disapproving face which Deirdre ignored. Ramona thought about what happened between her and John and decided this should make up for it. She accepted the offer.

~~~

"These people act like we're the scum of the earth, but they'll still take our money," Jacob commented, sounding amused. He was referring to the store clerk who gave the group a dirty look while processing the payment. The three were currently outside the general store and Ramona was about to see the couple off. "I guess dressin' up your store like the Fourth of July was really just for show." Deirdre rolled her eyes and saw that Ramona was confused. "The locals here put up American flag stuff to show they're against Eden's Gate," she clarified. "It started happening after the congregation grew." Ramona could tell that wasn't entirely true.

"Hey Dee. How 'bout you wait in the truck while I talk to our friend here before we leave." Deirdre looked between her husband and Ramona and sighed. "Alright." The eldest Seed was mincing his words earlier about his role within Eden's Gate, so what would he possibly want to talk about now. And without his wife present at that. After Deirdre settles herself within the passenger seat of their truck; Jacob leaned his back against it, facing Ramona while crossing his arms.

"While I do think Johnny probably deserved what you did to him this morning, you gotta be smart about who you push away and who you align yourself with."

"What are you talking about? I thought you weren't going to--!"

"Down kitten. I'm just tellin' you this for your own good. Apparently Joe sees somethin' in you and he's usually right."

"Well he's wrong. And Like I told your brother, I'm not meant to join your cult and you can't convince me otherwise!"

"You say that now, but when the time comes, you'll make the right choice."

"Don't count on it."

Despite her stomach twisting in knots, Ramona immediately strode off from Jacob to where Rosa was parked, hearing the couple's truck drive off behind her. She knew people who were involved with cults were self-righteous, but having someone declare what's "good" for her for the second time today was just infuriating. Also frightening. The woman was surprised that Jacob's familiar, intense blue glare and ominous tone he used while practically threatening her didn't put her in another state of panic. Ramona guessed one was enough for today.

Head buzzing with rushing, irritating thoughts, Ramona hastily loaded her car, just eager to get back home. "You okay, Miss?" The woman popped up her head to the sound of another male voice. She saw a man wearing aviators and a shirt with a logo that read Rye & Sons Aviation parked next to her. Aviation? Was this the "idiot" pilot? "That Seed bastard was botherin' you, right?" Ramona let out a sigh and closed the passenger door. She wasn't mad at him or anything; strangers coming up to talk to her when she wasn't in the mood was getting exhausting.

"Unfortunately. Even though this is only my second day here, Eden's Gate has already decided I'm meant to be with them. Whatever that means."

The man furled his lip and shook his head. "That's how they get you," the man started, a rant seemingly brewing. "Damn Peggies make you feel all 'special' when all they really wanted was your plane."

Ramona blinked. "Plane? I don't have a plane?"

"Ah shit! I'm sorry! Got carried away and started talkin' 'bout myself." The man held out his hand. "I'm Nick Rye of Rye and Son's Aviation. I was talkin' 'bout my plane, Carmina."

Ramona, slightly amused at the confusion, shook Nick's hand. 

"I heard from Mary May you've already met John. That fucker's been tryin' to get my plane for years after actin' all buddy-buddy and shit with me at first. Them Peggies been harassin' my family so bad my wife Kim, who's smaller than you, had to punch one of 'em. Died down a bit after that and she didn't get in trouble for it."

"I'm sorry you were going through that. Eden's Gate might want my house, but other than that it's just 'me' they want so badly. I don't know what to do."

"Well if I were you, I'd go up to Joseph after one of their sermons and show 'em you mean business."

Ramona didn't quite know what Nick meant, but if it was relating to what his wife did, she's quite sure she won't get away with that. Taking that part out, going straight to the source of her problems seems like something she could work with. Ramona could go to the sermon and hopefully get Joseph to have his brothers to lay off and rethink this whole "prophecy" about her. Of course Ramona would have to figure out the details of this plan so it can be somewhat sound. "Thank you Nick. I'll put some thought into your suggestion." The pilot did a slight smile, noticing a change in her voice from earlier. "Well alright then! Maybe you can come by and I'll give you some flyin' lessons. Carmina's the big yellow one." She froze a bit. "I-I'll think about that too." His smile got bigger. "Great!"

Ramona didn't have the heart to tell Nick she was afraid of heights.

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 2: Night Bloom

Narrated by the telosma flower.

Narrator: The quiet garden was illuminated by the warm afterglow of the setting sun.

Narrator: The scent of sweet roses wafted through the air. Their fragrance, a prelude to the grand festival that was about to begin.

Narrator: A black car stopped at the gate of the Moonlight Garden.

Narrator: A man in a dark suit came out, with a sharp face as cold as an ice sculpture.

Narrator: I've never seen frost or snow in the winter, but I imagine they would give off a similar feeling to this man.

Steward: Mr. CEO.

Narrator: The butler bowed and led the man into the garden.

Narrator: Moonlight Garden finally welcomed its mysterious host, who would only visit once every two years.

Narrator: When the sun faded behind the mountains, the first rays of moonlight fell on the rose petals.

Narrator: From the terrace, Mercury gazed out into the night-caged garden.

Steward: A total of 121 guests had arrived, none of which were absent from the invitations list.

Narrator: Candidates from the royal city and the supporters who back them were in the garden below, all eagerly awaiting Mercury's choice.

Narrator: Mercury sat on the terrace with a cold expression, as if he were uninterested in the activities taking place below.

Narrator: The beautiful, powerful, and wealthy guests drank and danced while they vied for the attention of the man on the terrace.

Narrator: All around, the slender telosma buds showered the garden with a nightly fragrance.

Narrator: Dazzling stars glimmered above as intoxicating breaths mingled below.

Narrator: The crowd quieted down for a moment, as their eyes turned to a girl.

Mercury: Who is she?

Narrator: Mercury obviously took notice of her, too.

Steward: She's on the candidate's list. Her name is Lilith, the winner of the Starheaven beauty pageant.

Narrator: Mercury's eyes followed her with a cold gaze.

Lilith: I'm sorry, I didn't know you wanted this drink, too...

Poet: It's all right. Please, take it. But in exchange, may I have your name?

Lilith: Thank you. My name is Lilith. From the way you're dressed, would you happen to be from Ninir?

Poet: No, I was born in Pigeon. I'm a bard traveling through the Seven Kingdoms.

Lilith: I see. I grew up in Ninir and have never been outside the country, so I'm not as familiar with the other kingdoms...

Narrator: Her image was pure and innocent, soft and harmless like a bird with a heavenly voice. Everyone was captivated by her charm.

Narrator: People praised her for being as elegant as a swan with the sweetness of a young girl.

Narrator: Lilith smiled sweetly into the crowd, and her eyes seemed to inadvertently skim over the windowsill to take in Mercury's form.

Narrator: She nodded slightly as she met his cold eyes.

Narrator: The scent of telosma continued to float in the evening breeze.

Narrator: The crowd took notice as Mercury finally made his way into the dinner party.

Lilith: I'm sorry, have I offended you?

Narrator: Turning to Mercury, who now stood beside her, Lilith looked up at him nervously, her neck as pale and slender as a swan's.

Narrator: Mercury didn't answer, but smiled faintly as he offered her a drinking glass.

Mercury: Would you like some drinks?

Lilith: Thank you, Mr. ... I was invited to this party, but I still don't know your name...

Mercury: I am Mercury. I am aware of your name, so there is no need to introduce yourself.

Narrator: She giggled shyly, as a simple girl would do. Her eyes were dark and hazy, like a cloud shrouded in a midnight sky.

Lilith: Why are you only talking to me?

Narrator: Mercury came closer and whispered into her ear.

Mercury: Because you need me.

Narrator: In addition to her impeccable beauty, she now had something else to brag about.

Narrator: She was invited by the owner of the Moonlight Garden and immediately received unprecedented attention.

Narrator: This girl of ordinary birth was shrouded in mystery and danger, like telosma flowers hidden in the fog.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

[stvrmfrci]

ㅤೀ     𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐔𝐓𝐘 !     EVAN CHO sets sail to assist those with broken hearts . the THIRTY-NINE year old is known to be UNETHICAL , but makes up for it by being EFFICIENT . you can usually find him listening to REQUIEM FOR MY HARLEQUIN BY POETS OF THE FALL ; might be a way to unwind from working as a PSYCHOLOGIST at CH HEALTH & EMERGENCIES .     ﹕     ꒰   lee dongwook, cis man, he / him   ꒱

𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒄  𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒔

name:  evan  cho. pronouns:  he  /  him. nickname(s):  doc. date  of  birth:  november  1  @  0001. zodiac  signs:   ☼  scorpio,  ☾  taurus,  ⇧  leo  (  western  ),  dog  (  chinese  ). language(s):  english,  korean,  latin,  german. orientation:  pansexual  /  panromantic. occupation:  psychologist.

moral  alignment:   lawful  evil. enneagram:   3w2,  the  enchanter. mbti:   intj-t,  the  architect. hogwarts  house:  slytherin. temperament:   choleric. signature  scent:  tiziana  terenzi’s  sirrah  (  top  notes:  passionfruit,  quince,  saffron,  &  green  pepper.  heart  notes:  osmanthus,  mountain  air,  amber,  rose,  &  cardamom.  base  notes:  white  musk,  leather,  sandalwood,  birch,  &  patchouli  ).

inspiration:  won  sangah  (  little  women,  kdrama  ),  ko  moonyoung  (  it’s  okay  not  to  be  okay,  kdrama  ),  seo  moonjo  (  strangers  from  hell,  kdrama  ),  jung  sunho  (  i  remember  you,  kdrama  ),  yujin  (  the  good  son,  book  by  youjeong  jeong  ),  margot  scott  (  tell  me  lies,  audible  original  by  jp  pomare  ),  patrick  bateman  (  american  psycho  ),  hannibal  lecter  (  hannibal,  tv  show  ),  +  my  own  imagination.

𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅  𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒔

───  [  REDACTED  ].

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏  𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒔

───  born  and  raised  in  london.  got  his  psyd  in  clinical  psychology  at  the  university  of  manchester.

───  throughout  his  time  spent  getting  his  education,  along  with  his  clinical  training,  he  placed  a  heavy  emphasis  on  personality  &  dissociative  disorders  which  eventually  became  his  specialty  whenever  he  opened  his  own  practice.

───  ranks  4.6  /  5  in  primary  psychopathy  and  2.4  /  5  in  secondary  psychopathy.  the  difference  between  the  two  being  that  primary  deals  with  superficial  charm,  manipulation,  &  the  lack  of  empathy,  while  secondary  deals  with  impulsivity  &  is  often  related  to  hostile  behaviour. 

───  piggy  backing  off  the  above,  he’s  had  many  years  to  learn  how  to  fit  in,  to  blend  seamlessly  into  the  community  around  him.  to  the  outside  world,  he’s  well-educated,  charming,  warm,  outgoing,  etc.  (  all  without  being  too  much  )  while,  in  reality,  it’s  all  a  facade. 

───  definitely  a  pleasure  seeker  in  a  physical  sense  and  no  one,  except  those  that  would  become  a  problem  or  disrupt  his  carefully  staged  set  up,  is  off  limits.  enjoys  a  good  adrenaline  rush,  too.

───  regarding  the  whole  impulsivity  thing,  he  is  the  world’s  most  patient  man.  which  is  one  of  the  biggest  factor  as  to  why  he’s  able  to  get  away  and  come  off  as  a  walking  white  flag  without  a  red  one  in  sight.

───  the  reason  why  i  said  he’s  unethical  is  because  he’s  never  really  followed  the  ethics  normally  placed  upon  those  within  his  profession.  he  tends  to  get  just  a  bit  closer  to  his  clients,  maybe  whispers  some  things  he  shouldn’t  as  their  psychologist  bc  he  often  sees  him  as  his  play  things.

───  also  known  within  the  circle  of  wealth  for  his..  charity.  before  joining  the  cruise,  he  spent  many  hours  doing  volunteer  work,  offering  mental  health  services  to  orphanages  and  shelters,  etc.  was  also  a  big  donator.

annnnnnnnd  i  think  i’m  gonna  end  it  here.  i  feel  like  he’s  a  muse  that’ll  be  fun  to  learn  about  through  interactions  and  development  bc  is  he  being  real?  is  he  ever  telling  the  truth?  who  knows!  i  don’t!  anyway,  as  i’ve  said  before,  thx  for  putting  up  with  us  <3

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched this week (#185):

2 by French director Christian Vincent:

🍿 Haute Cuisine is a charming drama about a female chef who was appointed as the personal 'cuisinier' to the president of the Republic. Supposedly it is based on the real-live story of François Mitterrand's private cook.

Like many other 'Food Porn' movies, this is a mouth-watering, touristy story where lushly-photographed meals being prepared with love and emotions. I don't understand is why this film is never mentioned with other fancy and feel-good morsels (Like 'Babette's Feast', 'Tampopo', 'Big night', 'Chef', 'Eat drink man woman', 'Jiro dreams of sushi', and dozen others). Maybe because it's not egalitarian enough?

9/10 from me [But then I actually cooked for Mitterrand myself in 1982, when he came to Denmark for a state visit, and I worked as a cook at the restaurant of the Danish Parliament. Nothing as sumptuous though!].

🍿 "You were on morphine. That's why you thought I was beautiful..."

Courted is a light courtroom drama, starring my serious Danish crush Sidse Babett Knudsen in an lovely French role. It tells of a strict and dour judge, ruling over a murder trial, who falls for a woman juror, whom he had met years ago. It's surprisingly endearing, and I don't blame him for being enchanted with her.

🍿

My first 5 films from British poet Terence Davies:

🍿 Children, his sad debut film from 1976, a haunting auto-biographical retelling of (his own) wretched childhood. A lonely, unloved boy, severely bullied at his Catholic school, and suffering quietly at home with a silent mother and an abusive father. All the disclosures are offered piecewise and delicately, that he's gay, that his father is dying, that he never got over any of the abuses. Best discovery of the week!

🍿 "Pray, Father, give me your blessing.."

Madonna and Child (1980) is slow, contemplative and dark painting of a depressed middle age Catholic, deeply religious closeted gay man, who works in the city, takes care of his elderly mother, and cruised at night for sex. Lonely and conflicted, melancholic and unhappy, he goes to mass regularly, and confesses of all his sins, except that he's attempting to get his dick tattooed. The dark night of the soul, indeed. 9/10.

🍿 Death and Transfiguration is the 3rd part of his alter-ego Robert Tucker trilogy. Even though it was made in 1983, the young man is now on his death bed, old, speechless, alone and again in the care of the nuns. It's a devastating conclusion to a life of this unhappy, gentle boy who lived his whole life in pain and concealment, between the church and the flesh. It opens with Doris Day singing 'It all depends on you' as he buries his beloved mother, and it only grows sadder from there. 10/10.

🍿 "...And then the journey home, tired. Cocoa and toast... And happiness unlimited..."

Of Time and the City felt like watching a movie of Lou Reed's 'Perfect Day', like a James Joyce moving poem but for Liverpool, not Dublin. This is Terence Davies only documentary, about the city of his birth during the 20th century. It opened with a moving recitation of 'The land of lost content', and it combined a magnificent collection of archival clips with glorious choices of musical scores. Together they created a very personal and highly emotional masterpiece, one of the best nostalgic documentaries I ever saw. For people who only knew of Liverpool as the home of The Beatles, it was a eye-opener: Their impact and music were featured for a brief moment only. 10/10!

🍿 Passing Time was the last film he completed before his death in 2023. A short poem he wrote and read, a single image of a rural countryside, and a piece of music composed for the occasion.

🍿

The Wild Goose Lake (2019), my first intense neo-noir thriller by Chinese auteur Diao Yinan. Caught in a turf war between gangs of motorcycle thieves, a gangster is running for his life, and has to use an abused "bathing beauty", a hooker who looks similar to Faye Wong from Chungking Express. It's a fresh look at the genre, full of rain-soaked dingy alleys, gritty and un-glamorized parts of Wuhan, slow-burning suspense and nocturnal aesthetics. 8/10.

How I miss wondering aimlessly in those night markets and street dances where hundreds of people are gathered as their Saturday entertainment!

🍿

Swept Away X 2:

🍿 Lina Wertmüller's controversial Swept away, (which obviously was a major inspiration to Ruben Östlund's 'Triangle of Sadness'.)

A political & sexual fantasy of a man and a woman stranded on a Mediterranean desert island. She's rich, spoiled and entitled, he's a simple Sicilian communist. She treats him contemptuously when he's just a deckhand on her yacht, and he turns the tables and abuses her in any way he can, once they find themselves alone in the wilderness. It started raw and didactic, with motifs of class warfare between the bourgeoisie and the proletariat, and then it turned into a whirlwind of sexual violence and misogyny. But it ended tenderly romantic, as they eventually come to love each other in a deep sadomasochistic way. 8/10. [*Female Director*]

🍿 Generally I don't watch re-makes, but the 2002 Madonna/Guy Ritchie remake got 5% score on Rotten Tomatoes, so that was intriguing. It is considered to be 'one of the worst films ever made', and maybe it wasn't exactly that, but like most all remakes, I still couldn't see the point in making it. They flattened the power dynamics, nullified the politics of the original, and drained the sexual heat, so it remained as boring as a music video. The only interesting angle was using Giancarlo Giannini's actual son to play the wild fisherman. But as much as he looked like his father, he wasn't such a captivating actor. 2/10.

🍿

My 5th film by Nicole Holofcener, Friends with Money. Four long-time friends, Catherine Keener (of course), Jennifer Aniston, Joan Cusack and Frances McDormand deal with Santa Monica's lifestyle issues. All are well-to-do except of Jennifer Aniston, who makes poor life choices, and so she has to work as a cleaning lady. But all have marital and upper-middle-class problems. And none of the men in this story are appealing. I watched it because of this screenshot. A pleasant 7/10. [*Female Director*]

🍿

Pee Wee Herman X 2:

🍿 Paul Reubens, The Man Behind the Bowtie is a new mini documentary about Pee Wee Herman (but not the expected Disney job). A thin, adoring 31-min. bio, which is better than no bio.

🍿 "Pete. Take a look at these breasts."

School, Girls and You! is a ridiculous satire of 1950's Public Service Announcements about puritanical sex education. Pre-Pee Wee Paul Reubens plays Bad Boy Pete. It ends with a cartoon penis singing about jerking of.

🍿

The Vulture article with a photo of this beautiful woman, caused me to watch the original Twister for the first time in 30 years. Yes, it had excitable young Philip Seymour Hoffman and Tár director Todd Field, and the Original 'Got Milk' guy [Still the best Michael Bay's film] as storm-chasers. It also re-played Morricone's beautiful 'Love Affair' theme at a crucial moment. But boy! I simply can't stand 'Hollywood blockbusters', spectacularly loud, dumb and over-zealously fast. "Mass" entertainment with lots of action, fake scientific explanations, and dialogue lines like "Watch out! It’s coming straight at us! C’mon! Lets go!" Etc. 2/10. ♻️.

🍿

Another batch of shorts:

🍿 The phone call won the Oscars in 2013. It retold the story of Sydney Pollack's 'The Slender Thread'. A suicide hot line worker is recieving a phone call from a man who had taken a bunch of pills and she tries to talk him into disclosing his address so that he can be saved. Sally Hawkins plays the Sidney Poitier's role, and Jim Broadbent's voice plays the despondent Anne Bancroft. It was perfectly emotional and well done (until the very disappointing final scene!) 7/10.

🍿 The silent child is another British Oscar winner (from 2017). It tells a quietly tragic little story about a 4-year old deaf girl whose well-to-do and busy parents ignore her special needs. (Screenshot Above). Heartbreaking.

🍿 "...Have you not seen 'The city of God', for Christ's sake?!..."

The crush is a cute Irish short, nominated in 2009, about a 8-year-old boy who's infatuated with his teacher, and challenges her fiance to a duel.

🍿 Pentecost, another Irish nomination about a boy, from 2012. He is an alter boy and he's obsessed with football.

🍿 First time that I heard of Gale Henry, a female silent film slapstick comedian of the Chaplin-Keaton mold. She starred in over 230 gag-filled films, but directed only one: The detectress. This "Big trouble in Chinatown" from 1919 involved a search for a secret formula for eyeglasses that will "allow chop suey eaters to see what they're eating". All the racist Chinese stereotypes you can imagine: Opium dens, cat dishes, derogatory names and characters, long braids. Not great. [*Female Director*]

🍿 Olla is a young Eastern European mail-order "bride" who moves to live with a middle age French dude in his boring suburban house, after meeting online. Debut work by a Greek-French woman, it's unexpectedly perplexing. Contains some unusual sexual scenes. 5/10. [*Female Director*]

🍿 Noah, an interesting disjointed short, made by some Canadian students as a class project in 2013. An early entry in the growing 'Screenlife' genre, where the events of the story unfold entirely on screens. Teenagers with short attention span seek love in today's heartless desert. Too young for me to really enjoy, but very well made.

🍿 My first Star Trek node, William Shatner Lent Me His Hairpiece (1996). A cheap fan fiction "un-true" story about Kirk's Love Rug, "baldly" going where no one has gone before. This is exactly how I imagine the real franchise plays, only with much bigger budgets.

🍿

Simone de Beauvoir X 3:

🍿 Slow down (לאט יותר) was an important Israeli short, Based on a short story by Simone de Beauvoir and winner of the 1967 Venice Festival. An old woman argues with her husband, and after a day or two of anger, they reconciles. The whole movie is told in voice-over, as she meditates about their life together, about aging and love.

(It perfectly captured the sounds and looks of my own childhood.)

🍿 Simone de Beauvoir rarely gave interviews, but in 1975 she talked at length in Why I'm a feminist, a terrific conversation with a young journalist, who's as sharp and curious as she was. Highly recommended for people interested in genre issues.

🍿 I didn't realize that while living with J-P Sartre, de Beauvoir had both Claude Lanzmann and Nelson Algren as long-term partners. The man with the golden arm is based on a novel by Algren. My 7th by Otto Preminger, it was the most disappointing of the lot. It was bold of him to tackle the serious and un-cool topic of substance abuse in 1955, but his treatment was as serious as the amateur drummer Frank Sinatra in this role, which means not very good. Best part was Saul Bass's jazzy title sequence. 2/10.

🍿

(My complete movie list is here).

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi! I was wondering if you knew any Johnlock fics in which John sings or actually is good at singing? I keep remenbering Sherlock saying he has a lovely singing voicd in TSO3 and can't get the idea out of my mind!

Hey Lovely!

Ahhhh hmm. Let me check my tags:

The Guy In 221B by fiveainley_ohmy (T, 3,970 w., 1 Ch. || Neighbours AU || Music, Classic Rock, Sherlock’s Violin, Singing, Flirting, Fluff, Shy Sherlock, Making Out) – ...likes to play his violin on his balcony. John is enchanted. One night while Sherlock is practicing his music, the downstairs neighbor starts to sing along. And he sounds good.

This Is Your Song by agirlsname (E, 79,990 w., 19 Ch. || Moulin Rouge Fusion || Prostitute Sherlock, Poet John, Acting, Singing, Dancing, Writing, Poetry, Musical, Song Fic, Heavy Angst, Unreliable Narrator, Sherlock is French, Love at First Sight, UST, First Kiss/Time, Frottage, Coming in Pants, Anal Sex, Switchlock, Clothed Sex, Crossdressing, Secret Relationship, Forbidden Love, Jealousy, Terminal Illnesses, Grief/Mourning, Breakup/Makeup Sex, Past Drug Use, Attempted Rape, Canon-Typical Violence)– When John Watson is invalided home from the army in 1895, he moves to Paris to rediscover his writing and find a new meaning in life. His old friend Stamford invites him into a group of artist friends, and suddenly John finds himself auditioning to write a show for the famous brothel across the street. There, he meets the most beautiful man he’s ever seen - Sherlock, the star of the Moulin Rouge. But Sherlock is already promised to the investor of the show, the rich Duke Moriarty.

A Case of Identity – The Musical by shamelessmash (E, 83,147 w., 15 Ch. || 1950′s Hollywood AU || Musical, Case Fic, Undercover as an Actor, Dancing, Happy Ending, Kidnapping, Drugs, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Writer/Director John, Slow Burn / Romance) – A mysterious death on set causes chaos in Stamford productions latest movie. With the premiere date left unchanged, they must find a new lead actor and reshoot an entire movie in two months. Sherlock Holmes goes undercover as a lead actor in a Musical: a juggling act to solve a murder while singing, dancing and charming his way through 1950s Hollywood. The last thing he expected was to fall in love with the screenwriter along the way. Or as I like to call it: the case where Sherlock finally gets to dance. Based off this prompt.

Bel Canto by bendingsignpost (T, 127,481 w., 16 Ch. || Phantom of the Opera AU || Secret Identity, Sherlock’s Violin, Operas, Aristocracy, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Disguise, Inheritance, Genderqueer Character, Classical Music, Singing) – After years of waiting for wealthy patrons to faint, Dr John Watson discovers a far more interesting patient in the opera house basement.

----

Those MFL fics actually reminded me of these lists:

Moulin Rouge AU

Musicals/Opera Fics (Masterpost)

Anyone have any others that probably are more in-line with canon?

[lastxviolet]

Madripoor is for Lovers (Zemo x F!Reader) - Ch. 3

Summary: Y/N is a SWORD agent recruited to help Sam and Bucky track down Karli and the super-soldiers. When Helmut Zemo joins the team, he takes a special interest in her. The friendly union is wrought for disaster, but then things take a turn for the worst when Y/N is taken as collateral. Will Zemo keep her forever? Does she even want to escape? And what happened in Madripoor that made the whole thing so complicated?

Warnings: 18+ / smut / oral sex / f receiving

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32878015/chapters/81589774

The hypnotic bass and Zemo's enthusiastic dance moves almost got you carried away. But over the bouncing crowd, you saw Sharon, Bucky, and Sam on the stairs, looking for you.

“Shit,” you mumbled, breaking the trance. “We gotta go.”

Zemo followed your line of sight and turned to lead you back to the group in silence. You try to hide the disappointment on your face.

“We found him,” Sharon yelled over the music upon your approach.

The five of you went over the plan for tomorrow back in Sharon’s suite. You doubted that even with your experience, you could’ve found Dr. Nagel without Sharon's help. In the states, it was easy to pick a needle out of a haystack, because you always knew what you were looking for. But here, everyone was a criminal. Uncharted territory where you had to find the sharpest needle amongst thousands.

“You good?”

Sam’s voice cut through your thoughts. You looked up and noticed the dissipating group. Sharon showed Bucky to his room, and Zemo sat with his eyes glued to a book on the couch. Only Sam remained standing in front of you, looking like he was about to pass out.

“I’m fine,” you assured him. “Go get some sleep. You look terrible.”

He chuckled and nodded in agreement. “We gotta get the hell out of here. Madripoor has aged me at least ten years.”

“Me too. I miss places where being a criminal makes you the odd one out, not the other way around.”

“Goody two-shoes,” he teased before turning to find his room.

Sharon waved him on from down the hall and they got back into it about her pardon and what she’d missed in the states.

Your attention shifted to the only other person in the room. Zemo’s eyes wasted no time abandoning his book and landing on you as soon as you were alone.

“The Odyssey,” you asked, pointing to his book. “I didn’t take you for someone who enjoys fiction.”

He smiled at the attention and made room for you on the couch.

“I often find that there are elements of truth in every fantasy. The human spirit is sometimes better examined by poets than by professors. This, for instance, is a brilliant study on heroes.”

“Hmm, studying heroes? An attempt to know thy enemy?”

He laughed and turned to you with his elbow up on the back of the couch, bringing him less than a foot away from your face. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the lights down the hall go out. There were no interruptions, or easy outs, now. All that was left was you, and the only man who’d ever made you truly nervous.

“Y/N, if you were in Odysseus’s place, content and immortal, would you give it up to go back home?”

“You’re asking me if I’d abandon my legacy and family to shack up on an island with some mistress?”

He chuckled and nodded in approval. “Very wise. But what does he gain by leaving? Struggle? Hardship? Mortality?”

You tilted your head to match his. “Are you telling me that you’d stay on the island?”

His expression shifted for the first time since you’d stepped foot in Madripoor. The overconfident, smirking Baron dissolved into a man.

A man who hid the sense of riotousness that he carried with dramatic flair. A man whose charm and wit seemed fabricated.

This man now, fighting off sleepy eyes and grappling with the moral quandary posed, seemed burdened. You wondered if his quest for justice would ever get to be too much. After all the destruction he’d caused, could he still see himself as the exactor of fairness? Were the Avengers still his enemy? Were you?

“No,” he confessed looking down at the copy in his hands.

Your lips twitched but you didn’t smile. “You’d make the hard choice — the hero’s choice if it came down to it.”

He looked almost somber at your words and nodded.

“In another life…perhaps.”

His voice wavered, almost as if he regretted saying it out loud. The briefing that Sam and Bucky had given you about him flashed in your mind.

A hero's choice was the right thing to do; the hard thing to do. You knew that he was a soldier before everything happened. Just like you.

Was that not a hero’s choice?

He tore the Avengers apart in an attempt to stitch up his own heart. An eye for an eye. Avenging his country because its destruction had been glossed over by the world. His loss fueled his anger but he was more capable than most. A man without armor, or mystical abilities was able to wreak havoc on those who had wronged him.

Was that heroism?

If losing those you love didn’t permit revenge, you weren't sure what did.

He broke the silence by tapping his knuckle on the book.

“It is the perfect testament to the valiance of heroes,” he continued. "But, I must say that the wisest thing Odysseus did was marry his wife.”

You laughed and nodded, remembering how she saved the day. Without her, Odysseus’s homecoming would’ve been much more perilous for him.

“I often find that behind every great man is an even better woman.”

He smirked and didn’t miss a beat. “Like you with…your Avengers.”

“I stand beside them,” you corrected.

He raised an eyebrow and waved a hand. “Semantics."

You gave him an eye roll in return.

He smiled then, wider than you had ever seen. It almost made him seem shy. Perhaps it was because he was making a genuine point, masked in humor.

You were well aware of your importance to this mission and yet burdened by the fact that it didn’t make you a member of their special club. When this was all over, you wouldn’t be an Avenger, or anywhere close. You’d go back to S.W.O.R.D to wait until called upon again. It hadn’t occurred to you before, but there was a pang of sadness there where the thought rested. It’d be a mistake to let Zemo know but it seemed to be too late.

“You’re making fun of me.”

His hand brushed yours. “No. I am merely expressing my concerns about your allegiances.”

Still aware of the small amount of alcohol left in your system, you looked away from his quirked moving lips.

“Enlighten me, Baron. What wrong decisions do you think I’m making?”

Frozen in place, you let him brush his fingers along your wrist to your arm. He took his time, tracing patterns on your skin and inspecting his work with an unwavering gaze. Only when his thumb caressed your cheek, and his hand landed on your neck did he look you in the eyes again. The air in your lungs was gone and your body betrayed you with a furious eruption of butterflies.

“Living a hero’s life,” he said somber-eyed and serious.

Your heart rate quickened. As if you’d learned nothing in S.W.O.R.D about manipulation, you were back to watching his lips. They parted slightly, as if he had something else to say but thought better of it.

A hero.

You didn't feel like one.

A sidekick, maybe. But even then, no one knew your name. No one sang your praises at home or breathed a sigh of relief knowing you were out there in the world fighting evil. It seemed that the only one who thought of you as more than an assistant was Zemo.

Your heart felt heavy then. The two of you were impossible. An inconceivable pair brought together by chance.

But that didn’t make his dark eyes any less enticing or his words any less intoxicating.

That didn’t make you any further from his lips.

He was a breath away, but so was your own destruction.

In another life, the island might tempt you.

“Look,” you said glancing past him to find something to change the subject. “It’s a full moon.”

Without sparing him another glance, you crossed the floor in four quick steps to the large windows. Never one to give up easily, you heard him follow close behind.

He beat you there and pushed open the glass door before gesturing towards the balcony in silence.

You looked down at your feet until the skyline drew your eyes. The plan to diffuse the tension had not worked in the slightest. The moonlit balcony overlooking the beautiful city had only made it worse.

You heard him stop a few feet from you and then settle on the lone armchair. The reality of the situation hit you like a train. Away from the windows, you had privacy. This high up no one would see you and everyone else was in bed. You'd meant to creep out of the lion's den but instead, you'd locked yourself in.

“The moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to,” Zemo mused from behind you.

“Carl Sanburg,” you confirmed, so he knew you didn't think he'd made it up.

Both of you were silent then. Swaying in the tension you'd built. Sanity pulling you back inside, inexplicable hope keeping you planted in place.

“Are you lonely, Baron?”

The words fell from your lips more delicate and intimate than you had meant them to. You let slip that you cared about his answer. That you might even care to cure him of the ailment.

“Me? No.”

You turned and scoffed.

“Liar. You were in a cell for years and you hardly talk to anyone now that you’re out.”

He leaned back in the chair, arms on either rest and a leg crossed with the ankle of his right knee. His demeanor was harmless in the same way that a predator poised to pounce was. Elegant, still, and ready for the kill.

“Not true,” he corrected. “I talk to you.”

“One person isn’t enough,” you said, taking a step closer.

Were you walking into disaster? Or being pulled? You couldn't tell the difference between his seduction and your own reckless desires any longer.

“The right person though…can be,” he half-whispered. “And you, Y/N, are more than I deserve.”

He gazed up at you from the chair. Kings throughout history, in war-won golden thrones and elegant capes, paled in comparisons to how regal he looked. Anointed with a crown of moonlight, ruling over whomever he pleased.

Your eyes widened with the admission. “Baron — ”

“Helmut, please.” He stood then and met you near the railing, his hand grazing your hip. “Only if for tonight.”

You shook your head, knowing this was a bad idea. His hand made its way to your waist regardless. He pulled you against his chest before searching your eyes for any signal that you were going to run. You knew he’d find nothing. You knew you mirrored his look of lust with blown pupils and flushed cheeks.

“Have I gone too far,” he whispered, bringing his other hand to brush loose hair behind your ear.

“No,” you sighed, letting him pull you closer and brush his lips to your cheek and jaw.

“Tell me if I do,” he whispered again before finally capturing your lips with his.

You uttered no complaints as his tentative kiss turned bruising and possessive. His arms wound around your waist, crushing you into him. But you needed to feel closer. He grunted as you sprung to action, flinging your arms around his neck, deepening the desperate kiss. He tasted like whiskey and something sweet. A cool breeze brushed against the exposed parts of your body. You let your hands wander beneath his coat, chasing warmth and proximity. He let you do as you please, only insisting that his lips stayed on yours.

You let out a whimper as his hand explored the front of your dress. He stopped to press his warm hand against your breast, before holding your face.

It was then that he pulled away, steadying your searching lips with a grip on your chin.

“Ich esse nicht,” he sighed, kissing a pattern to your ear. “Ich schlafe nicht, ich tue nichts anderes, als an dich zu denken.”

His teeth grazed your pulse point, leaving you gasping for air.

“I don’t speak German,” you managed to stutter out.

A hand slid up the back of your dress, gripping the zipper before undoing it in one swift motion and the fabric fell to the floor. The cool air seized your naked torso for only a moment before Zemo pressed himself against you again. The coat you’d complained about before, now provided warmth and security. You tipped your head back, almost over the edge of the balcony as he continued worshipping your neck and chest.

“I don’t eat, I don’t sleep,” he said between wet open-mouthed kisses on your breasts. His hot mouth left purple spots that cooled instantly in the chilly night air.

“I do nothing but think of you,” he finished before toying with your hardened nipple between his teeth.

You moaned then, louder than you should’ve, and let your eyes flutter open. The world was upside-down but you made no motion to move. You were making Madripoor proud by being pressed up against a balcony by an international criminal.

Utterly pleased with himself, Zemo raised his face back towards yours, leaning you both over the edge.

“Shhh liebling,” he cooed.

He pulled you back over, kissing your shoulder before removing his jacket and draping it over you. Each brush of his lips feeling more improper than the last.

“We would not want your friends to see you like this.”

In the next second, he swept you off of your feet and hoisted you into his strong arms. You watched the world sway around you and then settle when he placed you on the lounge chair, letting you get some warmth back from the coat and cushions.

He draped one of your legs over an armrest, exposing you to him except for a thin pair of underwear.

“Not with you spread open for me,” he growled. He towered over you for only a moment before kneeling between your legs. The man whose stature made him the tallest amongst giants; the most important in any room he chose, knelt before you.

“What would they say,” he mumbled in a trace. His hands gripped both of your thighs, causing an eruption of goosebumps across your whole body. “If they saw you like this, with me?”

He looked up at you then, raising an eyebrow, and tracing the inside of your thigh with his thumb.

You answered him breathlessly. “They’d tell you to stop.”

“And what would you say to that?”

His voice sent shockwaves through your system. Dark and sultry, with a hint of danger. You threw your head back again, barely able to keep a single thought straight. Your body shuddered but you couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or the need for his touch. When you looked back to him, he was surveying your body with the hunger of a starved wolf.

“Would you want me to stop?” His voice was gentle and sweet then, asking in earnest.

“Meine Liebe," he taunted you for consent as he flashed a smirk and pulled something from his pocket.

Cold metal grazed your thigh. A moan escaped your throat as he unsheathed a serrated knife and caressed your skin with the dull side.

“I wouldn’t want you to stop,” you gasped, almost vibrating with anticipation. “I don’t want you to stop — Helmut — please don’t stop.”

He chucked again, before focusing his attention on the area between your legs. You bucked slightly as the icy knife slid underneath the fabric. He made one strong slash upwards and you felt the fabric fall away from your wet core. One of his hands gripped your ass, but only for a second before he tore the rest of the fabric from your body.

“How could I ever withhold something from you, liebling?” His nose grazed your inner thigh, inching closer and closer to where you needed him most. It was only a moment before you felt his breath between your legs.

“How cruel it would be,” he growled. You moaned and slapped a hand over your mouth as he kissed your sensitive bundle of nerves. “To not give you everything.”

His tongue swirled against you in a tantalizing pattern, stroking you deliciously. He licked you methodically like he was reading the blueprint of your body right then and there. He held each thigh in a punishing grip, pressing you deeper into the cushions as he made a meal of you. The stars above your head blurred and the universe shifted.

If this was your destruction then it was illustrious. You'd do it over and over again until you landed in a cell right next to him.

“Helmut,” you whined with a heaving chest.

“Tell me what you want,” he mumbled between flicks of his tongue. “And it is yours.”

You would’ve begged him to let you cum but he beat you to it, making your back arch and mouth fall open in ecstasy. You trembled beneath him, over and over, but he didn’t let up. Your legs strained from being extended by his unflinching hands. You tried to stutter something out to him but no sound came except for content sighs and haphazard gasps. But his eyes remained closed regardless of the noise.

Without his mouth on you, he would’ve been mistakable for a good Christian, deep in prayer. Brow's furrowed in focus and devotion; lips moving in silent divine appeals. Only he could make you feel worthy of an alter. You couldn't picture anyone ever worshipping you in the same way again. It was his, you thought. I am his.

Lost in pleasure and shock, you reached up to run your nails against his scalp. Only then did he release you, and raise to meet your waiting lips as they trembled.

“You,” was all you could manage to whisper. “Only you.”

He pulled you from the seat, to wrap your legs around him. You brought your forehead to his and let him pepper you with chaste kisses.

“When I have you,” he said, before pulling the coat around you again. “It will be in a proper bed.”

You stared at him, confused and overwhelmed. The space between your legs ached with a longing to be filled but he let your legs fall away, and stood up.

“We can’t…I mean not now — they’ll hear.”

Zemo smiled and nodded while looking for something on the ground. After a moment of searching, he picked up the torn pieces of the red underwear you had been wearing. Before you could retrieve it, he pocketed the shorn fabric and stared you straight in the eyes.

“Worry not, Y/N,” he purred, reaching a hand out to help you up. “We have all the time in the world.”

[gustafsnightangel]

Shattered Lives Ch 40 Pt 1

Sildie woke refreshed, even if miss Lily was screaming her head off feeling anything but. “I’ll get her.” She chuckled as Gustaf went to move her off him to do exactly that.

“You sure?” He mumbled. She loved that half asleep voice, the crumpled look on his face that told her he’d slept and slept hard.

“I’m sure sleepy head.” Her kiss was sinful.

“Someone had a good night.” She heard the smirk in his voice and giggled.

“Yeah some guy fucked my brains out, he wasn’t bad.” His expression made her laugh as she threw her robe on. “You’re better.” She grinned and kissed him chastely.

“I should hope so.” He growled indignantly. “Otherwise I’d have to prove otherwise kitten.”

“Promise?” She teased, her lips brushing against his.

“Absolutely.” His grin was wicked before he devoured her mouth.

“Goodie.” She kissed him again before she sashayed away to rescue Lily from her wet diaper, the groan and thump of something heavy hitting the bed confirming he’d face planted into the pillow.

“You kill me love.” He called after her. “All those salacious curves.”

She changed and dressed Lily for the day, roused the boys and had them start to pack while she made breakfast, Brendan offered to supervise and she knew he was still a little shaken from yesterday. When she asked him about it he said that he and Gustaf had talked. Her man never ceased to amaze her, the way he just took care of things, explained things to the boys so they understood without freaking out.

Coming into the kitchen there he was, sweats slung low on his hips, those lower back dimples she adored in full view, simple white cotton tee, so normal yet so fucking sexy.

“Tea is steeping.” He said quietly as Lily squealed a dad dad and lunged for him. “And good morning to you too little lady.” He chuckled as Sildie handed her over, not that Lily gave her much of a choice in the matter.

So normal, she thought, and Ana doesn’t get to destroy this, she doesn’t get to take this from him, from us, she’s not worth it. She had to try harder for Gustaf, to not let her anxiety spiral as quickly as it did yesterday, he was trying, and she needed to do the same. Together, together they were stronger.

“That’s a lot of thinking going on in there.” He said gently, tapping her temple and kissing her, catching her unawares.

“Sorry.” She shook her head as if to clear the thought physically.

“You ok?” He asked, brow creasing in concern.

“Yeah, just reiterating to myself that she doesn’t get to destroy this and she’s not worth the effort of getting as upset as I did.” She shrugged. He left the pancake batter for the moment and crossed to her, pulling her in for a hug.

“No she doesn’t.” He toyed with the wisps of hair that hung at her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too and I’m so ready to eat, get packed up, and get in the car and go.” She kissed him sweetly and he smiled, she was putting it behind them where it belonged. “Just a blip. I freaked out yesterday, but she’s just a blip and we need to move past it.”

“Just a blip.” He murmured and kissed her, that longing making her go weak at the knees.

“Or you could just kiss me like that again.” She sighed, his chuckle making her smile when he did exactly that.

“Anything for you my love.” He grinned devouring her mouth a third time. He smooched Lily after she made a fuss until she crumpled against him giggling. “And you too Lily bear.” Turning back to the pancake batter Lily helped stir in the milk while Sildie poured the tea.

She took over cooking the pancakes as Lily was determined dad dad was her go to person of the morning and would not be denied cuddles and kisses and the mans undivided attention. “I’ll go and start packing for this monster.” He said softly and kissed the back of her neck causing her to shiver.

“Sounds good.” They were becoming a team she realized, still a little disjointed, but better than it had been when they lived in separate apartments. As she fussed around the kitchen making breakfast she smiled at the noise from the boys rooms, happy, excited noise. No tears, no sadness, no grief, just three boys that were finally having a childhood and making some memories.

Her phone pinged with an incoming text and she held her breath as she opened it. Leon.

Some good news for you at last, they remanded her in custody, no bail. Trial is set for February 16. She’ll be cooling her jets in a cell for a few weeks. The judge was not amused.

She let out an explosive breath and grinned. Some justice at long last. But she knew what the judge wasn’t amused by, the potential to walk on a deal.

Thanks for the update Leon. We’re out of town for the next ten days. Let’s touch base when I’m back to work?

Sounds good. I’ll copy Lindstrom, make sure you contact him when you get back into town. This will undoubtedly pull you and Lucas into it, maybe Gustaf.

Absolutely. I’ll be emailing him here in a moment regardless. We are prepared for whatever comes.

Sounds good. Have a great break, god knows you deserve it.

Count on it. Thanks again, for everything.

She owed Leon more than he realized. The fact he’s found her charm was just the start.

“Why the grin that clearly says you’re the cat who ate the canary and got all her Christmases at once?” Gustaf chuckled as he came in a little while later with Lily chattering in his arms and her bag.

She turned her screen around and showed him the messages from Leon and watched a grin spread across his face.

“I’m not one to bask in another’s misfortune.” He said. “But, it’s about fucking time something went right for us.”

“It’s only just beginning love, but this is a damn good start.” She kissed him fiercely.

“A long road ahead huh.” It wasn’t a question, because he knew damn well this was just the start of the shit storm that was brewing.

“I guess we’ll see. I’m not celebrating just yet.” She said chewing on her lip, brain going a mile a minute.

“Fair point.” He kissed her tenderly, the action freeing her lip and pulling her thoughts away from their destination of work. “Let it go now love.” The pleading look in his eyes had her drop all those toxic thoughts in a heartbeat. “We both need to let it go for now.” He smiled at her nod.

“You’re right. Letting it go. We have snowball fights to organize, marshmallows to toast, giggles and smiles to enjoy.” She said blowing out a breath and grinned.

“Amongst other things.” The goofy wiggle of his eyebrows had her chuckling.

Once breakfast was ready they sat as a family around the table, eating and laughing, throwing around ideas and what activities they were going to do at the cabin. With full bellies the kids helped Gustaf pack the car while Sildie packed her own clothes, got an email off to Lindstrom, and sorted the snacks. Car packed, children buckled in, Gustaf looked over the top of the car at her and let out a breath. “We got everything?” He grinned, it had been a flurry of non stop activity all morning.

“Kids, clothes, food, and most importantly, you sweet man. It’ll have to be everything or we’re never going to get out of here.” She snorted.

“Exactly what I was thinking.” He was almost bouncing with excitement to get going like the big kid at heart he was. She loved seeing this side of him carefree and happy.

They were finally in the car and on their way before she noticed it hanging from the rear view mirror. The ribbon still stained with red paint, the charm needing a good clean and a little worse for wear, but it was there, where it belonged. He hadn’t gone out and replaced it just to make her happy. He’d found a way to find it, to right the wrong of another human. To maintain a piece of her brother, a man he never knew. She reached up a hand to brush a finger over it and looked at him, her eyes welling with tears of gratitude. He got it, he got her, and what she needed, what that one little gesture meant to her and the kids.

His quick glance at her before snagging her hand and kissing her fingers had her smile through the tears. That smile was all the thanks he needed before he lightly held onto her hand as he drove. The grief was there but she seemed more at ease with it now. Allowing it to surface and be there but not overwhelm her or send her spiraling into despair.

A few hours later they arrived, his best girls fast asleep, the twins quietly chatting, Brendan with his nose in a book. He felt the stress leave him as the boys climbed out of the car, all the anger and frustration from the past week melting off him. He sighed, the snowy landscape in front of him consuming every ounce of stress and bitterness. It had only been a week yet it felt like a year. “Brendan can you get the twins inside? Maybe choose your rooms and then come grab the bags?”

“Sure.” The teen rounded up his brothers and they headed inside to explore.

“Don’t wander too far.” He called.

“We won’t.” The three of them answered.

“Masters of mischief.” He mumbled as he rounded the front of the car grinning. “They’ll be in the snow hurling it at each other in minutes.” He chuckled. It reminded him of Alex, Sam, and Bill when they were kids, always getting into something they weren’t supposed to.

Opening the the passenger door he crouched down and grazed his knuckles along Sildie’s cheek, her sharp inhale as she woke telling him she had been out cold.

“I’m up.” She mumbled.

“You crashed.” He chuckled. “Must be the mountain air.” She could hear the humor in his voice.

“Must be, or it was the mind blowing sex I had last night.” She said softly, that face she thought, they broke the mold when they made him. Eyes of ocean blue and a sinful poets mouth.

“I wear you out kitten?” He growled, that tone he knew made her wet.

“Not complaining.” She snorted.

“The boys are exploring the cabin.” He said seeing the question on her face at the quiet in the car. “I was about to get Lily out and then get the boys to help start hauling everything in.”

“I’ll get Lily, take her in.” She said as he stood and opened the back door.

“I’ll go and see what mischief the boys have found then. It’s way too quiet in there.” He chuckled, kissing her cheek quickly before going to hunt down the boys.

The kids had found mischief, already outside having a snowball fight which was why the cabin was so quiet. Rounding them up, all smiles and giggles, they helped Gustaf unpack the car while Sildie took Lily inside and put her down for the rest of her nap.

As it was well past lunch time Sildie started to prepare an early dinner as Gustaf took the kids exploring in and around the cabin, finding out where everything was and what the place had to offer. By the time they sat and ate the twins were already planning their day tomorrow.

“How about we each choose an activity for the day and all do it together?” She said watching them closely, half expecting the boys to balk at the idea of doing something she might want to do. She wanted them to do things as a family as much as possible this trip. Solidifying the bond between Gustaf and the boys was crucial, and for that, they needed time together. To talk, to fight, to laugh, to just do boy things with a man that wanted to be a father to them in every way possible.

“I like that.” Brendan said eating his sandwich. “We could write activities down on bits of paper and then choose them at random?” He shrugged.

“I like that idea even better.” Gustaf grinned. “Two activities each, and that’s what we can spend the day doing, or a few hours depending on how we all feel.”

“Whatever we want?” Liam grinned.

“Whatever you want.” Gustaf knew exactly where his devious little mind was going.

“You may regret that decision later.” Sildie muttered and smirked at him over the top of her teacup.

“Quite possibly.” Gustaf snickered as he sipped his tea, the boys just grinned at him. Oh he was in so much trouble, he thought. He was expecting them to gang up on him and had to remember to wear a base layer and turtleneck, to stop the snow going down the back of his neck, because he knew that one was coming. Once he’d finished eating, Gustaf found a pens and paper and had the boys write their two activities down. They scrunched each one into a little ball and tossed it in a salad bowl Sildie had found in the cupboard.

“Ok, let me grab Lily and then we each draw two out of the bowl.” Sildie said as she went to collect Lily, the little lady starting to make a fuss. The boys were giggling when she came back in the room. “What are you up to?” She asked knowing something was afoot, the wink from Gustaf asking her to just play along.

“Alright, youngest to oldest, Finn you’re up.” Gustaf said as Sildie fixed Lily a bottle, the tiny child snuggled in close to her mum mum.

“I got, hiking.” He said and put it on the table as Gustaf wrote it down, that would be a good one for tomorrow while the weather was still nice, he thought.

“Snowboarding.” Liam said excitedly. “That was one of mine.” His grin was wide.

“Well we’ll all get to have a go now.” Gustaf chuckled.

“Build a snow family.” Brendan laughed and Sildie smirked, that was one of hers.

“You’re up love.” Gustaf said.

“No, you are. I’m older than you.” Her chuckle playful.

“Snow fort.” He said looking at her, that desire for her flooding through him.

Her hand dipped into the bowl. “Snowball fight.” She said. “Well that was a given.” She added with a snort. “Go again Finn.”

“What about Lily?” He said quietly.

“I think Lily will be happy with whatever we’re all doing love.” She said gently. “Maybe we can have a Lily safe snowball fight like we did before.” He smiled and nodded, face lighting up.

“Snowball fight.” He giggled holding it up. Liam’s hand dived in to reveal another snowball fight as did Brendan and Gustaf.

“I think I’ve been played.” She muttered with a huge smile on her face as she pulled out another snowball fight.

“A little.” Gustaf’s wink make her laugh, that laugh he adored as he wrote them down in order that they came out of the bowl. “The weather should be nice tomorrow for a hike.”

“What should we pack for lunch?” Sildie asked.

“Picnic.” Liam said bouncing in his seat. “With cookies.”

“With cookies.” Gustaf chuckled. “Can’t forget the cookies.” She loved that smile, the one that said I don’t have a care in the world except for the people in this room. He was relaxing already, the stress and anxiety starting to melt away. Those crows feet she had a weakness for out in full bloom.

“Keykey.” Lily squealed as she reached for Gustaf.

“Yes little lady, lots of cookies.” He plucked her off Sildie’s lap and kissed her until she giggled, his scruff tickling her, tiny hands tapping his face.

They spent the late afternoon settling in, just taking time to relax and unwind. Bathed and in pajamas, the twins had their heads together formulating a plan for the epic snowball fight. Brendan had curled up on the couch with a book, and Gustaf did the same in the one seat with Lily in his lap happily snuggled in chattering and playing with her toys, Gustaf reading to her quietly. Sildie had slipped away to soak in the tub, a time to unwind, to start her vacation off right. She could hear him reading and the tone of his voice soothed her. “I could listen to him talk all night.” She sighed, sinking up to her neck in hot water. There was something about his voice that always set her mind at ease and calmed the raging storm of her thoughts and emotions. This was a different tone to the one he used in the bedroom, but both equally arousing in their own way.

She cleared her mind, let all the events of the past week come to the surface, acknowledged the way they made her feel and let them go. Sent them out into the ether for the universe to take care of. It was her own form of meditation, one she’d let slide since her brother died and she needed to get back in the habit of letting shit go. As her mind cleared from all the anxiety and stress, she thought to the future, their future. About making partner and what that would mean for her, for them as a family. With Gustaf’s help she knew she’d be able to handle it, even if in the beginning it would be a learning curve. “I can do it though, with him beside me I can do it.” She knew she could do it without him, but with him would be so much easier. She would hopefully make partner and get her career back on track.

Gustaf had saved them from spiraling out of control, from drowning in grief and despair, and in turn they had saved each other. It was time to put the grief aside and live life, she decided. She couldn’t allow it to consume her as it had over the past year. This was a new year, a time for new beginnings, a time to become a family and figure out their future together. “No more wallowing in your own self pity, they’re all grieving. But it’s time to move forward.” She muttered. “There’s a life to start living, with a beautiful sweet man in it.” She smiled at that thought, her man, their family, a future together. “Mine.” She said softly. “He’s mine.” Her throat choked up with emotion. “Only mine.”

Gustaf looked around the living room. A happy Lily curled up with him playing and talking in her own way quite content, Brendan with his nose in a book, the twins formulating their attack strategy for the snowball fight. Normal, no grief in sight, and genuinely happy. Sure, he knew it was there just below the surface, but they were healing, the sorrow not as all consuming as it was when he’d rescued a few wayward oranges at their door. They would continue to grieve, he just hoped he’d made it easier for them to process and to think about a future where it didn’t rule their lives. “One step at a time huh Lily bear?” He muttered quietly. “Slow and steady.” The tiny girl snuggled into him, the affection and unconditional love she gave melting his heart.

He let his mind wander to Sildie, their future, as a family, as a couple. Marriage kept springing to the forefront of his mind. He never thought he’d contemplate marriage again after Hanna, but with Sildie it was different. He was different. Would she want to get married? Could he be the husband she deserved? He wanted it like his next breath, to give himself to her completely, commit himself to her, to the kids. He glanced at the three boys, what would they think about it, he wondered? “Maybe I’ll have to ask them.” He mumbled against Lily’s temple, kissing her softly. “I already know where you stand on the matter young lady.” He chuckled and Lily squealed a dad dad as Gustaf’s scruff tickled her cheek as he kissed the little girl.

Maybe kids of their own, he thought. He wanted kids with her, no question about it. “That’s her choice though isn’t it little lady?” He kissed Lily’s head. “Her body, her choice. And she already told me where she stood on the matter in the very beginning.” He mumbled. “It would be nice for you to have a playmate though, huh? A little Sildie to cuddle.” He grinned against the child’s hair as he imagined a child with Sildie’s copper hair and ice blue eyes. “Or a little Gustaf you can boss around.” His soft chuckle made him grin wider. “I’m such a sap.” He whispered and Lily hugged him right. “I want everything with her Lily, absolutely everything.”

“Mum mum, dad, dad, dad.” She chattered softly.

“Exactly.” He kissed her head and went back to reading, oddly feeling more relaxed about it after chatting with his pint sized shrink.

Sildie pulled herself out of the tub and dressed in her pajamas. She felt loose and relaxed, much like she’d soaked all the stress off her body and let it swirl down the drain. Her mind had finally quietened, her thoughts drifting along now instead of zooming a mile a minute like they had been.

Padding out to the living room she smiled at the scene, such serenity, it choked her up. She started to make some hot chocolate from scratch, the one she usually saved for Christmas or special occasions. To her this was a special occasion, their first vacation together, the calmness that had settled over all of them was something to be acknowledged. “Who’s up for toasting some marshmallows?” She said softly and instantly had three boys at her side, the fourth standing behind her, Lily in his arms, a hand circling her hips. “You guys will need to find some toasting forks or skewers.” She chuckled as they raced off to do exactly that as Gustaf kissed the nape of her neck.

“You smell nice.” He purred, tongue teasing the dip at her collarbone.

“I’m all warm and soft too.” She murmured, her hand reaching back to rest against his thigh pulling him closer, the nuzzle against her neck making her weak at the knees. Her man knew exactly how to turn her entire system to goo.

The boys bounded back in, Brendan holding up some toasting forks he’d found in the mud room closet, those grins wide. It had been a long time since she’d seen them this happy, saw those smiles bloom in genuine joy not just putting on a brave face.

“Lily and I will stoke the fire, we need embers to toast marshmallows properly.” He kissed her quickly before heading over to the open fireplace.

Once the fire was happily crackling in the hearth they all sat around it as if it were an outdoor campfire. The six of them in pj’s or sweats, hot chocolate with an abundance of cream and marshmallow, and giggles, lots of giggles as they talked about snow forts and snowball fights. Gustaf telling stories of his childhood and the mischief him and his brothers got up to.

“Don’t give them ideas.” Sildie scolded, and he grinned at her. A boys childhood was nothing without mischief.

Sildie reminisced about her and Quinn as kids with their parents, much happier times, and good memories for the boys to have. She found it didn’t destroy her as much, sure it still gave her that ache in the chest, that longing to have them here, but she didn’t spiral. That’s what she needed to hold onto, those good happy memories, and she need to share them with the boys, with Gustaf. This was the way she needed to help them heal.

As the fire died down to embers they toasted their marshmallows.

“Nothing like the crispy outside, and a gooey inside.” Gustaf said as he blew on a little bit of marshmallow for Lily to taste. They’d all be on a sugar high for the next little while which was fine, they were on vacation, the everyday rules didn’t apply. He kicked back, Lily clinging to him as he read Harry while they finished the marshmallows and had another round of hot chocolate.

At nearly ten, Lily was asleep in Gustaf’s arms, and the twins were almost asleep curled up with Sildie as they listened to the story. “Time for bed I think.” Gustaf said gently as he watched Finn stifle another yawn at the end of the chapter.

“I think so too. Hiking tomorrow and a picnic.” She stood and helped the boys to their feet following them to the rooms they’d chosen to sleep in. Finn broke away from Sildie and rushed back to hug Gustaf tightly, Lily barely stirred.

“Love you dad.” He said quietly and Gustaf felt his throat tighten, it sucker punched him every time.

“Love you too. Get some sleep.” He watched Finn go and let out a careful breath. “I doubt I’m ever going to get used to hearing that.” He muttered to Lily as he got to his feet and carried her to bed.

With the boys settled and Gustaf dealing with Lily, Sildie set her phone to play some slow jazz in their room as she stared out the window into the night. This was the peace she craved for them and hoped one day soon they’d feel it in their own home. She heard him close the door, his soft steps to her before those arms wrapped her up, his scent equally comforting. Turning she swayed, his hands fitting her against him just right.

“I love dancing with you.” He said softly. “It was like we were made for it, you fit just right.” He kissed her temple and lingered, her scent filling his mind. Home, love, peace.

“I love it too. Just this, nothing fancy, just you and me and some good music. It’s perfect.” She said softly and rested her head against his shoulder, her thoughts drifting nowhere in particular.

“The only thing that would make it better would to be naked.” He said a while later, the soft growl making her chuckle.

“Then you’d better take care of that then.” She teased.

Gentle fingers aroused as they peeled the sweats and pajamas from each other. Both naked, he danced her around the room, slow and soothing until she was almost asleep on her feet.

“Into bed love.” He said tenderly and kissed her brow before helping her in. She snuggled in and kissed him, love and need pouring from her. Rolling, he pressed her into the mattress, the feel of those lush curves against him making him harden. “I can never get enough of you.” He murmured. “My goddess.” Her legs wrapped around his slim hips and she drew him closer, an invitation to slip inside. To claim each other. With a gentle thrust he buried himself to his hilt in her wet heat their mutual groans mixing with the jazz.

Her hands roamed that well honed body, all the dips and valleys that made him irresistible as his hips flexed, cock filling her. He made love to her, the gentle push and pull as their bodies intertwined and danced together. She came with a soft sigh, her release rolling over her taking the last of the stress from her body. He joined her in pleasure a moment later when he came with her name on his lips. Curling her in to him, she went lax in his arms. “Sleep love.” His smile wide.

“Gustaf?” She mumbled, hovering on the edge of sleep.

“Mmmm?”

“I’m so in love with you.” She slurred.

“You’re my everything Sildie, sleep now.” He switched the music off and let the silence of the cabin soothe him to sleep, peace at long last.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden @nandadb

[kx-writes]

Oblivious - Ch. 1

Pairing: TodoDeku, MomoJirou, more to come

Rating: Teen+ [some language & suggestive comments]

Overall Summary: High School Senior Year AU || Todoroki is head over heels for Midoriya, who just too damn oblivious to notice his advances. 

Chapter Summary: Todoroki spends another lunchtime staring at his hopeless crush, Kaminari, Jirou, and Momo offer some helpful advice.

*crossposted on ao3*

________________________________________________________________

If Shouto could describe Midoriya in one word, it wouldn’t be beautiful or charming or intelligent (despite him being every one of those things), it would be reckless. Utterly and stupidly reckless. These were the thoughts going through his head while he watched said boy teetering on the edge of the ladder as he reached to string up a banner in the cafeteria.

“I wonder if I started to stack my chips on him, how many high I could get.” 

“Oh at least ten. He’s in ‘oogling Midoriya’ mode.”

“Will you two please be more sensitive, you know he has difficulty-”

“I can hear you,” Todoroki turned around and faced the rest of his lunch table again. Jirou was batting Kaminari’s hand away from her food, but Momo was the only one who had the decency to look ashamed. “And I am not oogling him.” He stared pointedly at the electric blond.

Kaminari only shrugged in response and stole another chip from Jirou, “Y’know Todoroki, you’re pretty much the prince of this school. Athletic, pretty, senior, and rich to boot? Just go up to him and ask him out. No way he’s saying no.” 

Shouto furrowed his brows, the only sign on his face of him being in thought. He supposed that while some of his qualities were attractive, Midoriya was not so shallow to date him for the money. And his looks were out of the question. A childhood accident had left an unsightly scar over his eye, plus his natural heterochromia, and his weird birthmark of half his hair being white. Nothing was attractive about that. 

“I mean if I were you,” Kaminari continued, snapping Shouto from his thoughts, “I would ask out everyone in school.” 

“You already do, dumbass.” Jirou chimed in. 

“Okay, okay. Enough you two,” Ah, there was the voice of reason he always appreciated, “Sho, why don’t you try just starting a conversation with him? It couldn’t hurt and you could get to know one another.” Momo suggested. 

Now Shouto’s lips pursed in a small frown. Talking to Midoriya also was not a great option. Every time he tried it was like his brain turned to mush and he stopped saying anything sensible. He almost outwardly cringed at the memory from the last time he interacted with Midoriya.

“Hey Todoroki! Ochako has me helping out the theatre department by handing out these audition flyers!”

Shouto read the paper he was holding, but he felt warm. Too warm. And his tongue was too heavy in his mouth to form full words. “Newsies?” He managed out, still not meeting those deep green eyes.

“It’s our musical this year, about the Newsie strike, young love, and some cool tap dance numbers! Or… at least that’s how Ochako described it, I’ve never actually seen it.” He chuckled lightly and Todoroki felt weak in the knees from the sound. 

“I used to tap.” Stupid. Why did those words leave his mouth? He hated dancing. And performing. And being in the spotlight of any kind and-

“Really!? That’s so cool Todoroki! You should totally audition, here,” Midoriya placed a flyer in his hands and that big grin of his stopped Todoroki from handing it back, “I gotta go now, but I hope to see you there!” 

The rate his heart was beating was not normal. This pace could only be set by Izuku Midoriya. It was dizzying, being in his presence. 

“Hold on-” Kaminari interrupted his retelling, “You used to tap dance? Why have I never heard of this before?” 

Todoroki only shrugged, so Momo answered for him, “That’s actually how he and I met, in dance class.” 

“Okay, he describes Deku like he’s some poet from ancient greece and you’re focused on his tap dancing ability?” Jirou asked before crunching down on a chip. 

“Fair, but we’ve already established Todoroki is so gay for this guy. If you’re just too shy I can talk to Bakugou if you want? He’s known Midoriya since they were kids.” 

But Shouto shook his head, “No. It’s fine. If I just ignore it long enough, the feelings will go away.”

“Yo dude… Last week you compared his freckles to the constellations of stars in the sky.” Jirou dead panned. 

“And yesterday you would’ve ran into that water fountain staring at him if Yaomomo didn’t pull you and snap you out of your stupor.” Kaminari added. 

Shouto looked to Momo, pleading for some kind of reprieve from her. 

But Momo politely looked away and said, “I don’t think these feelings will go away as easily as you think.”

Todoroki sighed. “You guys are no help…” 

“Hey, I have an idea!” The loud blond exclaimed, “Why don’t you actually audition for the musical? Two birds, one stone. You want to get to know Midoriya better and the theatre department could use an experienced tapper!” 

“Momo taps too.” He mumbled back. 

“I would audition, but I have too many responsibilities with the Student Council. This might actually be good for you, Shouto.” Momo smiled softly. 

“I hate to say Denki has a good idea, but it is a good idea.” Jirou shrugged. 

Shouto looked back at the banner Midoriya and Uraraka hung up. The two were gone by now, probably taking the ladder back. But the sign read ‘NEWSIES AUDITIONS: AFTERSCHOOL WEDNESDAY’. 

“...I’ll think about it.” Except, he already had his mind made up. And the three he was currently sharing a table with, knew that too. 

Shouto Todoroki would be auditioning for Newsies and it was set in stone the moment the suggestion left Izuku Midoriya’s lips. 

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Sunday, February 11th

BEN: You know, not to be rampantly sexist in the workplace, but you've got some serious muscles for a girl. BUFFY: I... um... BEN: Radioactive spider bite. BUFFY: How'd you guess?

~~No Place Like Home~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

The Poster by veronyxk84 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

The Center of a Star by MadeInGold (Angel/Spike/Drusilla, M)

Fortunate Son by genericaces (Lindsey/Darla, M)

A Deal with God by lemonchase (Buffy/Spike, T)

The poet by firemanwhenthefloodsrollback (Buffy/Spike, T)

Evol (or, a backwards love story) by prose-for-hire (Spike/reader, not rated)

[Chaptered Fiction]

Buffy Summers and the Valley of the Eternal Pharaoh - Chapter 1-2 (COMPLETE!) by MCorey1317 (Buffy/Angel, M)

Pure Heart - Chapter 1-3 (COMPLETE!) by lisaof9 (Charmed crossover, Tara/Willow, Tara/Piper, T)

Not Just a Boy and a Girl (It's Just the End of the World) Ch. 7 by noctilucent (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Something Lost Something Found, Ch. 6 by Safire (Buffy/Spike, R)

Love Lives Here, Ch. 20 by Passion4Spike (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Afterburn, Ch. 13 by Melme1325 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Lie to Me, Ch. 9 by In Mortal (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only)

Early One Morning, Ch. 14 by all choseny (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Love Lives Here, Ch. 22 by Passion4Spike (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Coming Through, Ch. 24 by hulettwyo (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only)

Anarchy Tour, Ch. 4 by Alyot (Buffy/Spike, Dawn, R)

Lie to Me, Ch. 9 by In Mortal (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only)

Met You in a Bar, Ch. 2 by bookishy (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

[Images, Audio & Video]

Icons: Seething by veronyxk84 (Angel, Spike, Willow, Dawn, First Slayer, Faith, Caleb, Buffy, rated R for vampire faces)

Drawing: Willow by himbros (worksafe)

Drawing: Spike by himbros (worksafe)

Drawings: Some post show canon willows by pzyii (Willow, Buffy/Willow mentioned, worksafe)

Vid: William Pratt - human by Nina When it Rains (Buffy/Spike)

Artwork: Spike by Flyora (Buffy/Spike, worksafe)

Drawings: "with great power comes great responsibility" by maloops (Spiderman fusion, Buffy, Kendra, Faith, worksafe)

[Reviews & Recaps]

Video: Angel season 3 ep 15 Loyalty reaction and review by ReelReviewsWithJen

Anyone else feel like this [about This Year's Girl/Who Are You]?

Episodes you're surprised that you see this sub didn't like? by jdpm1991

Buffy S6E22: Grave | Booze & Buffy

[Recs & In Search Of]

Fic rec: Spangel Saturday: To Take You In by anonymous author recced by spangel-fic-marathon-2024

[Community Announcements]

Bad Girls Week (of posting and reblogging gifs) is now over on Eliza Dushku Daily

[Fandom Discussions]

The thing about Gunn... by all-seeing-ifer

Re: bangel or klaroline by laufire

Lamenting Doyle by AndHerSymbols, Skippcomet, Stoney

As a first time watcher I'm really surprised to learn only in S5 that Dawn had an older sister this whole time by MynameisntWejdene

Dawn being brought home by Tuxedo_Mark

How would Buffy/Angel be impacted if the shows stayed on the same network past BTVS S5? by primal_slayer

Feels while watching, then and now by PurplishPlatypus

High heels - how? by Newborn-Molerat

How would Buffy have reacted to Cordgel [a.k.a. Cangel]? by PotentialLanguage685

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[onthepageoftears]

Hold Them Closer ~ Ch.4 [Jaskier x assassin!reader] || Witcher

A/N: Not much to say here except I hope y’all enjoy the chapter!

Your kind words and reviews mean a lot to me, so please don’t afraid to leave a message/comment!

Summary: The return of a friend may bring a new approach to hardships.

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, mentions of death/killing/blood

Words: 2,079

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

This was taking way too long.

When you first thought to look through Rauf’s seemingly countless journals, notes, archive books, and who knew what else, you thought you could fly through them and possibly get your answers in the first week of research.

Clearly, that was not the case.

It was day twelve thousand and who the fuck knows, and you still had no leads of where your mother was. Let’s just say Rauf wasn’t one to make typical journal entries. They were all cryptic, or strictly professional. You wished he would take after a poet and write every little feeling down, that way this process would be easier on you and everyone around you.

‘Everyone around you’ being Jaskier.

“Gods be fucking damned!”

Jaskier blinked at your hunched over figure by the window of your room, having just walked in from the tavern below. “Nice to see you too.”

You threw the current notebook you were reading on the floor with a little more force than necessary. “This is pointless.”

“Now, I wouldn’t go that far.” Jaskier walked over and picked up the book, placing it gently on the table next to the pile of ever-growing papers. He sat beside you on the window sill, placing a hand on your knee which had been bopping up and down from frustration. “You need a break.”

“I need a drink.”

“That too.” Jaskier placed a kiss on your cheek and patted your leg before standing up, grabbing his lute and opening the door to your room so you would follow him downstairs. “I have a surprise for you in the tavern — but don’t get your hopes up. It’s not a pony.”

Your frustration had died down enough by Jaskier’s presence that you actually had to stifle a laugh at his words; wordlessly, you followed the bard down to the tavern where he was supposed to be preparing a performance. Though he was relatively famous elsewhere, the people of this village didn’t care too much for his shows — or maybe they had just gotten sick of them. Still, he managed a deal with the inn owner to lessen the cost of your room if he played shows every other night.

Your mind was still clouded by thoughts of your frustration when the two of you made it to the tavern floor. You had almost forgotten that Jaskier mentioned a surprise — that was, until, your eyes immediately fell upon it. Or, him.

You gasped at the stark white hair that was facing the opposite direction, sitting at a small table not far from you. Your voice came out in a breath of disbelief, “Geralt?”

The witcher turned around, and at the sight of you and Jaskier, he stood from his spot. After months of not seeing him, he somehow looked bigger.

The size of your smile nearly surprised you, but you didn’t suppress it as you rushed over to him. “Oh, gods. It’s been a while.”

He merely nodded, but couldn’t suppress his smile either. “It has.”

Jaskier stood between you two, placing his hands on both of your arms, “As much as I love this reunion, I do have a performance to give to this lovely group of people. Save a drink for me later, yeah?” Geralt simply nodding, and Jaskier sent you a wink before settling on the makeshift stage in the tavern.

You patted Geralt’s arm before sitting at the table across from him, where a drink was already set down for you. “Jaskier was right. It’s definitely a surprise to see you here, but about time. You look…different, somehow.”

“I could say the same.” Geralt nodded, and for the first time in a while, you noticed just how old his eyes looked. Not in a measure of age, but instead a measure of his knowledge. His lips quirked up slightly at the way you were staring at him in something short of awe. “You look good. Calmer.”

You snorted, lifting your drink to your lips, “If only I felt that.”

Jaskier’s voice filled the tavern’s walls, his lute accompanying him in a flawless duet. You looked over your shoulder, watching him practically prance around despite the lack of care from the tavern folk.

Geralt’s voice made you turn back around, “He looks better.”

You nodded, taking a sip of the drink Jaskier had no doubt chosen for you. In the months that you and Geralt convinced him to stay put, he had definitely gained back his energy and strength. Right after the three of you left Novigrad, it sent a pang to your stomach just to look at him. He was so fragile, so tired, and generally sad. It was strange to see Jaskier like that, and even though he had the same charm about him, it was dull. But he got better, and now he was pretty much back to his normal self.

Geralt’s voice brought you back to reality again, “You two have gotten closer.”

You nearly choked on your drink, but kept the cup high enough to cover the obvious surprise etched on your face. Geralt only smirked.

When you gained your composure, you managed a shrug, “There’s a lot you missed.”

“You know that witchers have sensitive hearing, don’t you?”

You frowned. Of course you knew that. Geralt could hear bandits that were further than you could even see — not to mention how he heard Jaskier’s faint heartbeat that night at your guild.

You blinked away the flashes of that memory, instead focusing on the cup in your hand. After you nodded, Geralt watched you with nothing short of amusement.

“What?” You snapped, already annoyed by his presence. You forgot how full of himself he could be — even more-so than Jaskier.

Geralt nodded, “Hearing heartbeats helps in more strenuous situations. I can tell where people — or creatures, are. I can tell when they are lying. When they’re afraid.” He shifted his eyes to Jaskier, who continued performing. “And then there’s the opposite side. The one that spikes a heartbeat because of a human’s strongest emotion. Love. The one that happens when he looks at you. Or you look at him.”

Your jaw was open wide enough to catch flies. You tried to ignore the word he used: love. Instead, you focused on the general summary of what he said. “You knew?”

“Even without the hearing I would’ve known.”

Your eyes widened, face heating up even more at the way he smirked playfully at you. But for you, nothing about this was playful. It felt like an attack. You almost wanted to punch Geralt in the face, to hide behind your own skin. Somehow, Geralt’s simple ability felt like an invasion of privacy. But still, you laughed.

“Piss off, witcher.”

Once you cooled down, he spoke again — this time, without the glint in his eye that made you want to stab something. “Jaskier told me you’ve been doing your share of research.”

You scoffed, “Trying to. Did he go into details?”

“No.” You tilted your head. Jaskier had, for lack of better words, a big mouth; still, he must’ve known you would want to bring this up with Geralt yourself. You made a mental note to thank him for that later.

You swirled the drink in your hand, keeping your eyes trained on the way it moved in your cup. “Before my uncle died, he told me my mother was alive. That he didn’t kill her when he took me from my village. So…I’m trying to find her.” You looked back at Geralt, who listened with his typically stoic face. “It’s been harder than I thought it would be. In all of his notebooks, he didn’t bother to mention any clues about finding her.”

“Have you tried going to the village he took you from?”

“I was too young when he took me away to remember where it is. And he didn’t write it down. Trust me, I’ve looked. Multiple times.”

“Hm.” Geralt sat back in his seat, a frown finding its way on his face. After a moment, he spoke, “What about that other guild leader? The one in Novigrad.”

You tilted your head in consideration. Arnet was the one who gave you Rauf’s belongings, the one who knew Rauf best — it was completely possible that he would know where your mother was, or at least where she used to be.

Still, you shook your head. “No.”

“No?”

“I could go back. Maybe I’d get lucky and he’d let me in. But…the chance is too slim.” At Geralt’s frown, you continued. “I might have thrown away my guild patch. He wouldn’t trust me if I didn’t have it.”

You slumped back in your seat, downing the rest of your drink with a heavy gulp. That night that Jaskier was still unconscious in bed, you ripped the patch from your cloak like it was poisonous. Because in a way, it was. You didn’t want to have anything to do with it, not after you spoke to Arnet for what you thought was the last time. And even though Arnet could be the key to finding your mother, it would be a big risk to try and talk to him without the patch. He would be suspicious, for sure.

But instead of slumping back like you did, Geralt leaned over to the satchel that was beside him, digging around for something. With a grunt, he pulled out the very patch that you thought you would never see again, and put it on the table in front of you.

Your mouth dropped open, “What? How?”

The glint in Geralt’s eye returned. “I found it in the room in Novigrad. Took it before we left. Thought might come in handy.”

“Oh my gods.” You grabbed the patch from the table, almost not believing it was there. You never thought seeing the familiar embroidering would give you such joy. It wasn’t the same disgusting reminder as it once was — now, it felt like you were holding the key that would further your journey in finding your mother.

“Oh my gods!” You repeated, letting a joyous laugh escape your lips as a wide smile filled your features.

Geralt quirked a brow ever so slightly, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “You’re welcome.”

—

“Never did I think that as soon as we saw Geralt again, I would be saying another goodbye to you.”

You and Jaskier were back in your shared room, not long after the three of you had shared a round of drinks in the tavern. After you each retired to your respective places, you broke the news to Jaskier. And although he was just as excited as you were to find new information, the truth dawned on both of you soon enough.

“I won’t be gone for nearly as long.” Your voice was almost empty of emotion, and you hated yourself for it. Goodbyes were never a thing you needed or cared for. But right now, it would hurt too much to actually say it. In fact, it hurt too much to look at Jaskier, which was why you put all your energy into packing your small bag.

“Y/N.” Jaskier’s hand found its way on your wrist, pulling your attention away from the bag that was not as interesting as you made it seem. You turned to Jaskier, trying to ignore the tug that made its way in your chest.

Jaskier placed a hand on your cheek, letting you fall into his touch. He nearly whispered, “I know you have to do this. But I will miss you.”

His tone of complete sincerity made you swoon. His hand guided your face towards his own, but just as your lips were about to meet his, you pulled back slightly. “You better not follow me this time.”

Jaskier smiled a mischievous smile and moved his hands to your waist, pulling you against his chest. “And what if I did?”

“You’d better hope those training sessions have come in handy.”

“Hm.” This time, you let him connect his lips to yours, tasting the drinks that you shared in the tavern. Your hands were finding their way behind his head when he pulled away. “Do you really think I could beat you?”

You smiled, twirling his hair beneath your fingertips. “No.”

And you kissed him again.

———————————————————————————————————

That last ‘no’ was the epitome of ‘no ❤️’.

Let me know your thoughts!

[molnlycke]

100 DAYS OF SUNLIGHT BY ABBIE EMMONS REVIEW

As a disclaimer I want to say that I found the Youtube channel of Abbie Emmons by one of her ‘write with me’ videos. Following that I watched some of her WritersLifeWednesdays vlogs and thought, this woman has tremendous passion and work put into her craft. She actually gives valuable advice, and the themes of her videos are pretty good. So when I saw that she has a novel of her own published, I wanted to see how she incorporates the stuff she talks about into practical work. This is how I started reading her debut novel: 100 Days of Sunlight.

I was curious, okay?

But oh man, what is this?

This book… I’m sorry it’s just so bad. The mess of glaring problems, plotholes, the …characterisation. Abbie Emmons says every good story is character driven (which I wholeheartedly stand by if it is executed well!!!) but what should I get from this, honestly?

There are too many things screaming PROBLEMATIC here.

But let’s start at the beginning.

The exposition––the first chapter’s building don’t make no sense. It has a twist in it alright, but why start with something that turns out to be a dream (or a scrap of a memory in this case) of the actual past, only to get dumped with everything else that also happened following that scene? All of this is told from the protagonist’s reminiscing of said happening.

- To be clear the book starts with the scene of an accident–the accident in which the protagonist, Tessa loses her sight. A drunk driver with a pickup truck runs the red light crashing into the car Tessa and her grandmother are in. Soon it turns out that’s only a recurring nightmare and she’s been home for one or two weeks (maybe? I don’t remember precisely). By this time she has already lost her sight. Tessa runs the audience over all that happened after the accident (basically in those weeks she got discharged from the hospital etc. etc.) Now my question is why not start the book from the accident itself? It all gets narrated either way.

The next problem is the way first Tessa’s grandparents, and then the WHOLE BOOK just downplays consent. Why? Why would you do that?

- Tessa’s grandparents “know better what’s good for her than she does”–that’s an actual quote from the novel btw. Nothing glaringly alerting in that, I mean adults often have this way of thinking about children. Until… they try to arrange a stranger to help Tessa with transcribing her work. Tessa is a poet with a blog where she posts her work on schedule. Ever since the accident, she doesn’t feel like writing (or blogging for that matter). She’s shut herself off from the virtual world, doesn’t touch her laptop, nor speaks with her internet friends. (Because ofc she’s homeschooled, doesn’t like to go out at all and only has internet friends in the first place.) She’s in her room for most of the day, cries a lot and tries to cope. Whether her coping is good or bad I’m not qualified to say, but she thinks of herself as selfish, lazy, cynical, and depressed most of the time––everything she never wanted to be, things hates with every fibre of her being. She blames herself and basically detests life for beating her down to the ground. She feels she can’t get up even though she’s told, her blindness is a condition that can go away in ninety-something days’ time. I think feeling these emotions are pretty reasonable for a teenager. It’s been like three weeks since the accident, and her newfound blind perspective of life. That can’t be easy. BUT her grandparents know this isn’t healthy, Tessa needs to write. “I haven’t written one verse, one line, one word of poetry. I have no desire to. I have no inspiration, no joy. It’s all gone.” - Tessa from ch.1 So what do Granny and Gramps do following their infinite wisdom? Play the girl. And I’m like, sure dude, harass the child into doing what you want. Sure, don’t try to get her professional help or a psychotherapeutist or something if you think she’s faring so terribly. Sure, run an ad for hiring some part timer to transcribe for the poet who doesn’t want to write anymore. Sure, do it all behind her back. I mean she has PTSD and is blind for now, but yeah, this will most definitely help. Good job! For goodness’ sake they treat the girl like she’s been locked inside her room for months?!

When they share this brilliant plan with Tessa, she freaks out so much the elderly retract the ad. But not before the son of the newspaper’s owner gets a scrap of this new, possible past time activity and decides to be a creep and essentially stalk Tessa. But that’s for later.

Tessa explicitly tells her grandparents she doesn’t want to meet new people, doesn’t want to write, what she needs is time. So the next thing Granny does is pushes an unknown, teenage boy into her blind granddaughter’s room for a chat. Against Tessa’s repeated objections! There’s so much nonsense going on in the sequence of the story. Like one day there comes a boy–a stranger, knocking on the door, saying he’s this and this’ son and wants to help. And because, at a glance, he has prosthetic legs, you invite him first into the house then into your blind teenage granddaughter’s room? Without actually knowing if he is who he says he is? Without knowing the first thing about him? But even if that part is true, and he is who he says–the son of the newspaper’s owner, let’s not forget the mildly stalkerish way the guy’s been acting.

Granny shares a shit load about Tessa’s problems, then flat out tells her to meet Weston. “I told you I don’t want help. And I certainly don’t want anyone touching my laptop. I don’t want to write. I don’t want some stranger coming into my house and feeling sorry for me!” That’s Tessa speaking with Granny prior to the meeting. I mean it’s no biggie if she’s against the whole idea because he could help, right? Is this the American way of handling things? Someone give me a spoon that I can boink myself in the head with to get around this type of mentality.

At the first meeting Tessa has meltdown, screams at Weston and cries. Tells him she doesn’t need help. Tells him not to bother. Tells him she wants him OUT OF HER ROOM. Weston leaves before telling her he’ll be back the next day. And Granny and everyone else is fine with that. So in the following days the nuisance has the audacity to come over, small-talk the grandparents into loving him because he’s so charming everyone is in love with him a little. (That’s another thing from the book, I shit you not, the dude straight up thinks things like this. Yes, I know it’s self-deceit.) Weston forcibly takes over Tessa’s room which is basically the last place she feels comfortable at? Never mind, now someone’s popping in randomly when they think it’s cool, telling her what to do––“I know you don’t need me. But you need to write.” Bitch I think you need to fuck off from people’s lives who don’t want you in it. Just an advice.

One time Tessa wakes up to Weston barging into her room (“...he walks into my room without knocking, at 9.00 a.m., when I’m still in my pajamas”). Granny’s off to do her things leaving the boy to stay and make himself at home. Huh, quite reasonable.

Weston forces Tessa to accept there’s no fleeing this situation––one, the three of them (him and the oldies) constructed for her. Because it’s helping.

That’s basically the question of: where’s the line between wanting to help someone and pushing them even deeper when they’re already at a bad place. But since this is a YA romance everything is nice and good and sorted at the end so Tessa can thank her loving family for forcing their volition on her.

- Here’s another lovely example of consent portrayed in the novel: “I told you I don’t want to go outside.” Weston laughs. “You also told me to get out of your house and never come back.” “And you directly disobeyed my wishes.” “And you’ve been enjoying it...” Please tell me I’m not the only one seeing what’s wrong with this whole dialogue. It’s so disappointing and frankly, discouraging, to see an attitude like this written by a woman, targeted at a young, female audience.

- Oh, there’s their first kiss as well. It’s really really romantic. Weston asks for permission then doesn’t wait for the answer! “I’m gonna kiss you. Is that okay?” It’s not fair, because I don’t give her any time to reply. Instead, I press my lips against hers. Without permission.” ...So why did he even bother to ask? To seem nice? Well, as the saying goes it’s the thought that counts… So is this how consent works? NO! But consent never stood a chance in this book at the first place.

Next up; Characters.

*not @me side-eyeing Abbie’s video about how to craft a strong female protagonist* - I’m not gonna say a lot about Tessa. For me she falls flat like a cut-out. She’s paper thin, and dumb, although she’s the novel’s protagonist. Funny though, I feel she has less to give to the story than Weston, and it’s not just the length of their respective chapters. There’s like 600-700 words from Tessa’s POV (mainly about Weston 80% of the times), then we get a 4k word count chapter from Weston (mainly about his own journey and overcoming his struggles). Tessa’s chapters are either shallow or about her time spent with Weston. Opposed to this Weston has a full arc of him getting over the loss of his legs and standing up from it (quite literally). See what I’m talking about? All I get from Tessa before the accident is that she’s a writer, homeschooled, likes her colour coordinated books, and waffles (like Abbie ha!) (*whispers* and she wears her hair in a messy bun, ofc she does). Oh and she can’t live without WiFi. All I get after the accident is that she’s hurting, angry and blind. And now she has Weston. So her backstory is…..?

- Weston. Oh man where to start. Now he has a backstory. From it we can conclude how idiotic he is. That’s not recklessness or being a teenage boy. I’m sorry but his behaviour is simply idiotic. Sometimes he’s really grown up (taking care of his baby brothers and all) other times he has like 1 (one) braincell operating in his head. Bearing weeks of pain, and not saying anything about it to anyone because that’s not superhero like? WHAT??? He experienced, at the least, three weeks of torturous pain and several days of fever and dizziness, popping Advil like it’s candy. Still, the only one who realised this is his best friend at school and his 10 year old brother who was at the scene of Weston injuring his legs in the first place. What about the parents one might ask. Well Idk. Obviously a 13 year old is so good at deception and sneaking around that adults can’t catch on! On this note I want to gift Parents of the Year Award to Mamma and Pappa Ludovico. With parental supervision like that I’m baffled the child lived up to the age 13.

Weston is the nightmare male lead people usually salivate after in k-dramas stuffed into the body of a 16 year old American boy. Now I’ve never understood those people and their preferences of the bratty, entitled, but oh-so-handsome males and I still don’t understand to this day. Where’s the appeal? Don’t ask me.

I’ll just put down some quotes: “It’s the first time in three years anyone has ever met me without that look of pity on their face. The first time anyone has ever looked at me and not seen me. The first time anyone has stood before me—with perfectly normal legs—and complained about their own problem. The feeling is exhilarating.” So basically this is the so called ‘No one has ever treated me like this. Except this girl, my God, she’s intriguing’. Weston enjoys Tessa’s rude behaviour. “So she’s stubborn. She’s rude. She’s a spitfire wallflower who lost her sight and now hates anyone who tries to help her. Game on.” ...Are you five? “Tessa is the only Dickinson who doesn’t like me.” I have no idea why that could be. But, listen, listen: “I turn around in the desk chair, throwing her a hard look over my shoulder. She’s still sitting rigid and stoic on her bed, staring at nothing. She’s actually really pretty. Her eyes are bluer than mine—the enhanced kind of blue you see in contact lens commercials. She has freckles, too. Just a few, thrown across her nose and cheeks. Her hair is braided today, less messy. She looks so serious. I liked it better when she was screaming and crying.” Idk somehow this sounds like every badly composed romance I’ve ever seen. Let’s just say the progression of the relationship between Weston and Tessa infuriated me 90% of the story. You can help others without being an ass. You can also help others without being a horrible love interest, but that’s for another day. YA contemporaries don’t work like that.

Oh Weston, what a knight in shining armour. Three years prior, he had this thing with Clara Hernandez–a girl from school. It wasn’t real dating but they spent some time together (he walked her to class ooooh~~~) so she became “at the time, my unofficial girlfriend”. Things change after Weston’s accident, of course. He tells her he doesn’t want to continue their ambiguous relationship. And that’s alright, it’s his choice, BUT he then kind of passes the girl to his best friend, so she won’t annoy him anymore? The way he narrates the whole thing is...ugh. “But she wasn’t even dumping me, and we weren’t even dating. We were thirteen years old, for crying out loud.” See, this is Weston thinking about what happened. And this is him telling Rudy about it: “What were you talking to Clara about?” he (Rudy) asked. “I dumped her.” Following in another chapter they talk about how now that the coast is clear––Weston and Clara are through, Rudy should hit on Clara: “He wanted to resist the whole thing and deny his obvious crush on Clara Hernandez. But he couldn’t do anything except laugh and shake his head. He knew I was the best friend he could ever ask for.” Such a kind and caring person for handing out the girl he doesn’t really want to his best friend. Give him a medal for that one. Idk this whole business irked me to no end, like Clara was his possession or something. (Yeah, and the poor girl eventually ended up with Rudy, not like she had any other choice…)

- Downplaying female friendship. Yeah, that one happens as well. When Tessa talks with her friends (her blogging circle) the only thing we as readers can glimpse about their conversation is “Tell us more about the boy,” like... really? Because once again that’s the only thing a group of friends can talk about when one of them suffers an accident resulting in trauma. And Tessa’s answer? “At first, I didn’t like him. I thought he didn’t understand anything about me—even though he acted like he did. And I’m not sure that he understands much, even now. But he’s kind. And patient. And he kept coming back to type poetry for me, so I’ve kind of been forced to make friends with him.” The reply of her friends… “Aw ... He sounds really cute.” Yeah, really cute, forcing you to be friends with him. “How can you not be in love with a boy who makes you waffles?” Well, friend no.5, it’s not that hard… But there’s more. After Tessa gets her sight back the only thing we get from this supporting bubble of warm friends is as follows: “LIV: TESSA HOW ARE YOU FEELING ME: a lot better actually ME: my headache FINALLY went away MARIA: yayy!! ALLISON: PRAISE THE LORD ME: yeah fr KATE: So glad to hear you’re doing better, Tessa! It must be quite a transition omg… GRACIE: I can’t even imagine ME: it’s been pretty crazy ME: but good ME: I guess ME: ugh idk mixed emotions LIV: ???? LIV: TELL US EVERYTHING LIV: if u want to lol ME: ahhh well ME: Weston is kind of not talking to me anymore,” That is it my friends. Two to three sentences about her condition and it’s time to talk about the boy. Is this really how shallow anyone would want to describe the protagonist and her close-knit group of friends talking for the first time after one of them lost their sight? Then again, talking for the first time after she got her sight back? I’m disappointed to say the least.

- I didn’t care for any other character enough to jot down my observations. They were bland, they were there to help the main couple, nothing more, nothing less. Weston’s kid brothers were cute and Rudy seemed like a normal, sane character (I applaud him for that). All I can say is the families in this novel are something else.

The romance.

Okay, let me state before anything else: I like romance if there’s balance. I like romance when the people involved are equals. I believe a relationship, and a good one at that, should have cornerstones. One of them has to be that equality. It also doesn’t hurt if none of the involved parties are assholes. The romance can be of any trope as long as the happy ending is tied to said relationship being healthy. And I don’t mean sorely the end product; the way that relationship is constructed step by step should resemble these things. If not, at least call them out for it. I’m not the advocate of perfect characters or relationships (any kind, not just romance) because that would be really unrealistic. It can be bad, yeah, it can be toxic, or a little messed up in the middle. But for crying out loud reflect that in the storytelling! Do it especially if the story is planned for a younger audience! Now let me make another statement: What I don’t like is that in mostly American YA het-romances there are rarely any of these things.

- This one here is probably supposed to be the writer’s well liked trope of hate-to-love romance, but I feel the concept of kindergarteners is more fitting. The boy forces, the girl yields. But it’s okay because he likes her and wants to help.

There are some cases of harassment sprinkled in, as in one party objecting the other’s closeness or presence and the latter not giving a damn about this. Real respectful; but, hey, that’s part of consent too so I guess it simply flew over our heads in this particular story. A fresh and original concept on romance, wholesome and healthy. And the thing is, Weston actually knows these things. He literally says so in the book, “...until I intruded on Tessa’s life, however it happened.”

And of course Tessa is more pure than fresh snow on white lillies; she’s basically a lotus. Weston is the first boy stepping into her room. Give me a second to freak out about that. It’s so exciting! (Mostly by knowing the circumstances in which he did that.)

The other thing that annoyed me was Weston’s entitlement and holier-than-thou attitude. He knows everything better than Tessa. He knows Tessa better than she herself does WHEN HE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW THE FIRST THING ABOUT HER. That’s the moral of the story. No, but I’m not kidding, some of his thoughts set me on fire. “She wrote about sunlight and oceans and falling in love, when I’m pretty sure she has no idea what it feels like to fall in love.” I’m sorry, but do you know Tessa? (besides stalking her via the grandparents)???? The audacity, I’m cackling.

- Can someone tell me why Tessa speaks with Weston if she doesn’t want to? I mean besides that this way the story can go on. She actually starts their conversation on the second day. Me, personally, don’t talk to people whose presence I can barely tolerate. How silly, I know.

- Weston annoys the shit put of Tessa for like five minutes but he talks to her, (for his own selfish reasons may I add––Weston, honey, if you want people not to pity you try helping blind little kids who actually want your help) and brings her flowers, and chocolate so I guess it’s reasonable that approximately four days later Tessa’s attitude shifts to comparing him to sunlight. “Weston is everything And all at once. Weston is gentle And harsh. Weston can be blindingly bright But then he can also be Delicately soft. Weston is a paradox.” – Oof girl.

- Let me tell you kids just because someone annoys or teases you and you tolerate it––that’s not the get-go to life changing love. Even though he’s the first real life boy whom you’ve ever spent casual time with. But he’s the first boy who ever showed you real attention, you say. Well then, that’s a grace girls have to accept. Or so this book and so many others try to make us believe. The sad thing is, there actually could’ve been a conflict––if one wants to write about opposites attracting each other so much––without making the story so cliched and weak.

Plot-holes.

- Maybe it’s nitpicking for some, BUT… why was Weston in his dad’s office in the first place? I never got around to the reason of that. He loiters around there once a week, that’s what the book states. Well, okay, he is there inspecting the motivational quotes collection on the wall while his father just works away. And am I supposed to believe the man is all cool with this? What is Weston doing there? For what reason? The answer is easy: he simply had to hear the phone call of Tessa’s grandfather retracting the ad.

- Now why does his father–the owner of the newspaper–accept calls regarding ads in the first place? Is this really how things work? Other employees do nothing? I’ve worked at a small printing company in the past. The management only accepted calls regarding ads if there wasn’t a single soul anywhere near the perimeter of the office. There’s a department for jobs like this. Bosses don’t qualify.

- About the already mentioned beautiful first meeting, where sparks fly, and the lovely couple can roll off a great start... If Tessa didn’t want to meet anyone why didn’t she lock her door? That’s a pretty easy task. At first I thought maybe there’s no lock on the door. But wait; after the disastrous meeting she locks herself away. “The door is locked, and Grandma has stopped trying to open it.” Sooo there was a lock after all…...okay…….

- Why is almost everyone in this book freckled with blonde hair and blue eyes? Okay, this really is just nitpicking, but like, is there some symbolism in that? *bounces eyebrows* Ehem, if you know what I mean.

- I’m not sure if this is an actual plot-hole but I was really surprised by the lack of anxiety Weston’s approach triggered in Tessa. Essentially, Weston is a stranger at the start of the book, with whom she gets locked into a room, without anyone else in there, when she’s still adjusting to the fact she can’t see. I especially looked out for it; Weston closes her door every time he’s over at their house to speak with her. I mean the first time she’s angry; but what about later? She doesn’t even seem nervous or affected by this at a time when her blindness is still fresh. Yet, when they go to Barnes & Noble, a public space with people around, Tessa is anxious the minute Weston leaves for a bathroom break. Like okay, some strange dude tries to pick her up and she’s rightfully terrified, but all she has to do is call out. Now both of these scenes are pressuring and scary, but where’s the difference? Tessa is nervous when the stranger approaches her in the book store, a big and open space with people around even before said stranger tries to initiate skinship. She tells him to leave her alone. But she did just that when Weston first went to see her. And Weston didn’t give a shit about it, much like the high schooler at the book store. And I’m supposed to believe with Weston she wasn’t apprehensive at all? Of course she wasn’t… he’s the love interest.

The whole book store scene makes me so uncomfortable and NOT because of what you’d think. It’s simply distasteful to create a scenario like that only to draw it back to… yes, you guessed it, Weston. He’s the saviour sweeping Tessa off her feet with “Get your hands off my girl” and chasing away that jerk. Why is it that still, in the year of *looks at smudged handwriting on hand* sometime past the 1890s there’s the need to use The Jerk™ hitting on the girl and The Nice Guy™ saving her by making her seem like his property? Oh did I forgot to mention the jerk smelled like cigarettes, and his pants were falling off his ass. I’m surprised he wasn’t wearing a leather jacket or had piercings just to fit the look to a T. That usage of my girl ...ugrghgh I can already feel white hairs sprouting from this. Look, I’m not against the idea of belonging to your beloved. If you want to say it, cool, do it. But when it’s not consensual, and you’re not a couple who already expressed to one another the wish to be viewed that way maybe DON’T FUCKING USE IT. Not to one up another guy trying scare the baddie away. Man, don’t do that. *channelling my inner LE to rap the last line really loud* What’s even better than this? Tessa’s reaction: “Despite the gravity of the situation, I can’t help but smile and get butterflies all over again.” REALLY???? Please donate braincells to this girl. She really needs it.

The dynamic of relationships.

- This is mind bogging for me. Almost all relations (excluding the most fundamental ones) serve a sole reason: cheer on and make the main couple happen. This book is promoted as a love story, one, not limited to romance. It’s a love story of family bonds, love between brothers, and grandparents, and friends. And that’s true for Weston… but for Tessa??? I don’t think so. But maybe that stems from how underdeveloped Tessa’s character is.

- The main couple’s dynamic is so stilted. Weston basically caused the state he is in, Tessa suffered an accident caused by outer circumstances. She’s the victim of a drunk driver, while quite frankly, Weston’s the victim of his own stupidity. And yet, since Weston decided to fight for himself he expects Tessa to do the same. Now that’s a nice thought, even if it’s about someone you barely know and met maybe two times in your life. Is that a reason to harass the other and tell them what to do, not taking no for an answer? I highly doubt it. Weston wanted to get better so he pressed himself, but he made that choice himself. It’s beautifully written down not once, not twice, but multiple times; how hard it was for him to choose between 1, the easy way––the flat grounded desert and 2, the hard scaling and rocky mountain range. He chose the mountain range and that’s admirable. What’s not admirable is, that from what I get from this book, Tessa never had the luxury of a choice. Because other’s never gave her time or let her decide for herself. Tessa says Weston is stubborn and obnoxiously optimistic. I think he’s just obnoxious, period.

- At the end of the book Tessa narrates how ashamed she feels and how her heart is breaking “Because of what Life has done to Weston.” For one, is Life responsible for what happened to Weston? I’d liked to read about how Weston tells the story of losing his legs to Tessa with a straight face, because all thorough the book he never once did that. To anyone. If that happened, he ought to admit how incredibly stupid he had been. As well as the consequences of his own decisions, every time he went on without saying a word or asking for help. That stubbornness is his character trait. Yes, it is, but we never get to see how that affected his family, there wasn’t one paragraph about his parents talking about it with him.

- On this note why is Tessa always so ashamed, feeling like she’s the brute, saying sorry to everyone at every chance? It’s not like others apologised to her once. This character trait only perpetuates the notion how everything others impose on her is fair trade because they only want to help. And either way, she only feels apologetic about standing up for herself.

Mentions of notable things that annoyed me.

- The judgement if a girl need makeup or not, because *banging pots and pans* she’s beautiful no matter what in the boy’s eyes. And he tells her just that. “Are you wearing makeup?” I ask, without thinking. Tessa smiles just a little. “Yeah,” she says. “Grandma helped me with it. This feels like… a special occasion.” “You don’t need it, you know. You look beautiful without it. But you look beautiful with it, too. You always look beautiful. Even when you’re crying.” Tessa really needed to know your opinion about her wearing makeup Weston. Kudos for you for telling her she doesn’t need it because she looks beautiful without it, but it’s okay to wear it as she looks beautiful with it too. Great input man!

- At this point I’m not even surprised, but there really was the girl staring at something, asking if it’s pretty. (Okay, Tessa couldn’t stare but she was probably imagining––here it’s the sundown, bc of the whole sunlight theme). Then the boy answering, “Yeah, it’s pretty.” Not as pretty as you, he thinks while staring straight at her. Hello, is this a Disney production?

Conclusion.

All in all is this the worst book ever? No. Are there unforgivable problems with it? Not explicitly.

My biggest problem is what message it sends about relationship patterns, patterns I hate with a fiery passion. It’s the same old shit I grew up with, and it’s the same old shit that doesn’t seem to change after twenty years. Not even now when,––with the help of the era of internet––everyone is suddenly so woke. But are they, really? All I saw about this novel is the raving reviews praising it to heavens. And there are themes in it that deserve praise––the acceptance of one’s self, the loss, the forgiveness, the overcoming of hardships of life––but what about all that’s left? What about the execution?

Bottom line is, because this is a book, everything gets resolved and all is happy and fine at the end. However in real life, coercing others to do things against their will isn’t a glorious idea. Disregarding consent isn’t acceptable. Helping with the stubbornness of a mule isn’t really helping. And last but not least, perpetuating a mindset and a budding relationship like the one presented in this book––for a young audience shouldn’t be okay.

[rhiawriter]

Dragons in Winter Ch. 46 Sneak Peak

“It’s quite the tale, Your Grace,” Lord Willas turned to Jon. “The bards will feel as though this story is a gift from the gods.”

“This isn’t a story for me,” Jon grumbled. “It’s my life.”

“Lord Willas, I think you’re right,” Daenerys said. “We should invite the bards of the land to come and celebrate our marriage. We’ll need their help. There are changes we want to make, and we’ll need the poets to help convince the people they’re for the best.”

“Excellent, Your Grace,” Lord Willas said. “I am happy to assist in this matter. I am eager to serve the new joint monarchs.”

“There’s something else you can do,” Jon said. “It would please the queen and I if you would consider a marriage to Lady Wynafryd Manderly.”

“A Tyrell marry a Manderly?” Lady Olenna scoffed.

“The Manderlys are a most important ally to me,” Jon said. “They will have power in my court. Lord Wylis Manderly will serve as Master of Ships on the Small Council. In order to survive the Great War, we will need partnerships between the north and the south. We would like to start by joining the houses of two of our greatest allies.”

“Wylis gets Master of Ships, and what does my Wylis get?” Lady Olenna asked, eying Tyrion suspiciously.

“We can offer you Master of Coin,” Daenerys said.

“But we would feel more comfortable offering you the position and in your loyalty if you were to show your commitment a harmonious relationship between the North and the South,” Jon said.

Lord Willas swallowed. “Of course, Your Grace,” he said. “Have you spoken to Lady Wynafryd? Is she agreeable?”

“She is open to the idea,” Jon said. 

“But she could use some encouragement,” Daenerys added. “Spend sometime together. Show her your charm.”

“I’m afraid I’m not very charming, Your Grace,” Lord Willas said.

“I disagree,” Daenerys teased.

“When’s the wedding?” Lady Olenna asked.

“One month,” Jon and Daenerys said. 

“So soon?” Olenna asked. “A royal wedding must be an extravagant affair. Is there a reason you’re in such a rush?” She peered openly at Daenerys’s belly. Daenerys put a hand self consciously on her stomach before flicking it away.

“We have two wars to fight,” she snapped. “That’s the reason. And Cersei has stewed in King’s Landing long enough. It’s time to end this Civil War and take back King’s Landing for our family.”

“So we can focus on the Great War,” Jon said.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

There's a fic that I lost and it's haunting me. It was an AU where John and I are actors and work together until I have to leave to go perform onstage. Help? Please?

LOL LOL LOL!

Well, the only actor AUs I know about are these:

A Very Sherlock Musical by flawedamythyst (T, 11,980 w., 1 Ch. || Musical AU || No S3 Compliant {more tags to be added after reading}) – So, you know how musicals are set in a world where people just burst into song every five minutes, and everyone around them automatically knows to join in with the tune and choreography? This fic is set in that world. John finds it extremely frustrating that Sherlock won't sing their theme song with him. (to read)

This Is Your Song by agirlsname (E, 79,990 w., 19 Ch. || Moulin Rouge Fusion || Prostitute Sherlock, Poet John, Acting, Singing, Dancing, Writing, Poetry, Musical, Song Fic, Heavy Angst, Unreliable Narrator, Sherlock is French, Love at First Sight, UST, First Kiss/Time, Frottage, Coming in Pants, Anal Sex, Switchlock, Clothed Sex, Crossdressing, Secret Relationship, Forbidden Love, Jealousy, Terminal Illnesses, Grief/Mourning, Breakup/Makeup Sex, Past Drug Use, Attempted Rape, Canon-Typical Violence)– When John Watson is invalided home from the army in 1895, he moves to Paris to rediscover his writing and find a new meaning in life. His old friend Stamford invites him into a group of artist friends, and suddenly John finds himself auditioning to write a show for the famous brothel across the street. There, he meets the most beautiful man he’s ever seen - Sherlock, the star of the Moulin Rouge. But Sherlock is already promised to the investor of the show, the rich Duke Moriarty. (to read)

A Case of Identity – The Musical by shamelessmash (E, 83,147 w., 15 Ch. || 1950′s Hollywood AU || Musical, Case Fic, Undercover as an Actor, Dancing, Happy Ending, Kidnapping, Drugs, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Writer/Director John, Slow Burn / Romance) – A mysterious death on set causes chaos in Stamford productions latest movie. With the premiere date left unchanged, they must find a new lead actor and reshoot an entire movie in two months. Sherlock Holmes goes undercover as a lead actor in a Musical: a juggling act to solve a murder while singing, dancing and charming his way through 1950s Hollywood. The last thing he expected was to fall in love with the screenwriter along the way. Or as I like to call it: the case where Sherlock finally gets to dance. Based off this prompt. (to read)

To the Sticking Place by blueink3 (E, 121,973 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Musical Theatre AU || Showmance, Friends to Lovers, Bickering, UST / RST, Fluff, Virgin Sherlock, BAMF John, New York City / Broadway) – Renowned Shakespearean actor Sherlock Holmes has finally burned all of his bridges in the theatre industry save for his constant director, Greg Lestrade. John Watson has made a name for himself in the musical theatre circuit, but age and injury are working against him. Can they reinvent themselves for an all-male Macbeth without killing one another? Part 1 of the Screw Your Courage series (to read)

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

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Hopefully it’s one of these, otherwise please, lovelies, suggest any that may fit the criteria! <3