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manuscripts-dontburn · 2 years

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(aka the month in which I listened to a lot of audio books while doing jigsaw puzzle)

House of Hollow

Author: Krystal Sutherland

First published: 2021

Rating: ★★★★☆

I correctly predicted the biggest twist about halfway through, but no matter, this was a thrilling and engaging read! I am not big on body horror, but this worked and had the perfect mix of creepy and mysterious. Really enjoyed myself. Giving it four stars because I am not sure about repeat value, but I can see myself picking it up again in the future and finding out.

Anežský klášter v Praze

Author: Helena Soukupová

First published: 2011

Rating: ★★★★★

Pomineme-li komplex bombastického Pražského hradu, je Anežský klášter pravděpodobně nejvýznamnější středověkou budovou v Praze a tato kniha jasně ukazuje, proč. Toto nádherné místo, které přestálo staletí a všechny nešetrné rány, které mu byly uštědřeny živly i lidmi, i dnes vyzývá k zamyšlení, zastavení a modlitbě. Genius loci je tu tak silný, že jej jistě musí pociťovat i lidé vnímající náboženství jen jako historický přežitek. Helena Soukupová předkládá v této knize svoji zjevnou lásku k osobnosti a dílu Anežky Přemyslovny s vědeckou precizností, ale zároveň stylem, který je čtivý i pro méně znalé. Publikace překypuje detailními fotografiemi (monochromatickými i barevnými).

Pandora

Author: Susan Stokes-Chapman

First published: 2022

Rating: ★★★★☆

While this was pitched to me as the retelling of the Pandora myth - it is not. It merely uses the ancient story to lay out a rather delicious mystery with hints of the supernatural. I found myself more interested throughout than I had expected!

Compendium of Marian Devotions

Author: Ed Broom

First published: 2022

Rating: ★★★★★

There are two reasons why you might want to read this book: 1) you are a devout Catholic 2) you are interested in Catholicism (no matter your other spiritual leanings) In the first case the books gives you some good affirmations, provides details about apparitions and other dogmas of marianology. In the second, it gives you a clear glimpse into why Mary is so important to Catholics. It is richly and beautifully illustrated and also lists some of the most common Marian prayers.

Unraveller

Author: Frances Hardinge

First published: 2022

Rating: ★★★★☆

Another vividly imaginative adventure from Frances Hardinge. This one felt a bit too long, to be completely honest, but her writing is still wonderful and I would kill to have so many original ideas as she does!

The Nickel Boys

Author: Colson Whitehead

First published: 2019

Rating: ★★★★★

... because 2023 is obviously the year I choose to cry over books and love it (though apparently "loving" is not really an appropriate word for appreciating this topic).

O lásce

Author: Anton Chekhov

First published: 1976

Rating: ★★★☆☆

Mé první setkání s Čechovem dopadlo velmi dobře v tom ohledu, že jeho styl je nesmírně čtivý a dobrý. Trochu horší je fakt, že některé z těchto devíti povídek vlastně nemají konec, či je ten konec příliš náhlý a čtenáře zanechá velmi, velmi nespokojeného.

The Wrath to Come: Gone with the Wind and the Lies America Tells

Author: Sarah Churchwell

First published: 2022

Rating: ★★★★★

Absolutely frikkin fantastic and important! I read Gone with the Wind when I was 19 and liked it, but I also really cared for the "love" story between the characters and pretty much viewed the rest as a backdrop I could gloss over. (for context I am a white European from a country that never had any colonies, never participated in the slave trade, and our own ancestors who were serfs were liberated in the 1780s. Moreover, the American civil war was more or less a footnote in our history classes.). I have seen the movie more than once though (again focused on Scarlett and Rhett rather than anything else) and liked it a lot. I began to realize the whole thing was problematic later, but I had no idea just how problematic and downright awful it really was until reading this book. Aa Churchwell herself says, we should not scratch the book out of our minds nor ever screen the movie again, but we should be mindful of the realities it shows (of the past and the present) and view it as evidence of delusion and mindset. That way Gone with the Wind can be redefined from the great American novel to a learning experience and a warning. Will we learn though? Our ancestors did not.

Hester

Author: Laurie Lico Albanese

First published: 2022

Rating: ★★★★☆

An interesting and more than capable debut, beautifully written and quite ambitious. Besides trying to capture an experience of a person with synesthesia and trying to create a story that inspired one of the most famous classic books, she also attempts to encompass the witch trials and slavery in the US. She mostly succeeds, though the beginning felt a bit too slow for me, and from time to time I kept wondering whether some of the plotlines were unnecessary. Loose threads, so to speak :)

The Dance Tree

Author: Kiran Millwood Hargrave

First published: 2022

Rating: ★★★☆☆

Kiran Millwood Hargrave poured her pain into this book and for a while, I was considering not rating it because of that, however, in the end, this IS a piece of fiction, no matter how intimate and personal to the author. I am used to the quality writing by Hargrave and she does not falter here, unfortunately, the book is just incredibly depressing and thus difficult to read. The main problem is the lack of a plot while all attention is given to minute details of the main character´s aching heart. Everything else, including the dancing plague and the other character´s subplots, is merely touching the edges of her mind - and being in that mind is really, really difficult for a reader. This one is definitely a manifesto of pain and a book I respect, but I will not be reading it again.

Magic Flutes

Author: Eva Ibbotson

First published: 1982

Rating: ★★★☆☆

Please I beg of you: do yourself a favour and STAY AWAY from the audiobook narrated by Kate Lock who has a pleasant voice but for whatever reason decided to turn every single character into an impossibly annoying cartoon. Just AWFUL. That said, this is a book I kind of enjoyed with all its clichés (and there are MANY) and in spite of many a wince-worthy description of secondary characters. It could be because I needed something sweet and nice after a bunch of books about the holocaust, miscarriages, and slavery. It is a fairy-tale, complete with a princess, a rag-to-riches protagonist, an empty-headed lady villain, class prejudice, and naive views of days gone by.

She and Her Cat

Author: Makoto Shinkai

First published: 2013

Rating: ★★★★☆

If you love cats, this is definitely a book to pick up when you feel sad. I found it to be very wholesome if a little basic.

A Village in the Third Reich

Author: Julia Boyd, Angelika Patel

First published: 2022

Rating: ★★★★★

Having read a lot about the horrors of WW2, on the battlefield, in occupied territories, and of course, in the concentration camps, my question has always been: who were these people following Hitler so blindly? The SS I understood to be evil and power-hungry individuals, but how is it possible that the German nation actively elected the Nazis and lived by their hateful rhetoric? Julia Boyd tries to show how the Hitler era impacted the "ordinary" Germans living in a backwater area and manages to paint a vivid portrait of the village existence from the 1933 elections to the aftermath of the war, which left them with nothing. I am still not sold on the author´s assumption that even among the Nazis there were "decent" people (since one kind of belies the other), but I think that the sense of community with interpersonal conflicts, differences of views, varying desires and selfish interests has been captured perfectly in this book.

Russia at Play

Author: Louise McReynolds

First published: 2002

Rating: ★★★☆☆

W hile far from uninteresting, this is more of a thesis than a book, if you know what I mean. Touching on the fascinating topic of how the Russians pre 1917 spent their free time and how entertainment culture was shaped (and shaped the public in response), it is very dry with run-on sentences. I would also recommend having a thesaurus nearby.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

Author: Betty Smith

First published: 1943

Rating: ★★★★★

A sleepy afternoon with the hot sun deflecting off of pavement, with the quiet bustle of a city for a company. That was the feeling I had while reading this book. And in spite of the fact it depicts poverty and hardship, it also captures perfectly and vividly the joy of childhood, which can be magical if only you have a place to stay and people who love you. I loved returning to the Nolan family every day.

A Darker Shade of Magic

Author: V.E. Schwab

First published: 2015

Rating: ★★★★☆

Not bad, not bad, but I guess I have expected more world-building and little more depth to the plot, since the books are so beloved and the concept is really wonderful. Let´s see if the rest of the series changes my mind.

Alice: The Girl From Earth

Author: Kyr Bulychev

First published: 1985

Rating: ★★★★★

An absolute delight of a book! Fast-paced, adventurous, full of great ideas and, a bit unexpectedly - even humour! If you are worried this is a "soviet propaganda" book, you need not worry. Besides a passing mention od the 1st of May parade on the Red Square, there is really nothing political - unless a dream of a better world is a political one.

The Fall of Númenor

Author: J.R.R. Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien

First published: 2022

Rating: ★★★★★

These books and stories are still as beautiful and fascinating as they seemed when I first stumbled upon them.

We Are All So Good at Smiling

Author: Amber McBride

First published: 2023

Rating: ★★★★☆

This is one of those books that feel important simply because in spite of all the fantastical elements in it, it touches the raw nerve of everybody who has ever struggled with depression or any other similar mental state. I felt that the language fluctuated between gorgeous and "needs a bit more work" in places, and it took a little while before I truly fell into pace with the story. The more it progressed, though, the more invested I was. One thing I have to note: I listened to this as an audiobook narrated by the author. And I never would have guessed it was meant to be "poetry". That was something I only found out later when looking up some info. I just thought the format was... a little strange. Still functional n what it wanted to say. Also, the book cover is incredibly beautiful!

#booklr #wrap up #February 2023

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birdshall · 1 year

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Heavy goodbye

Dearest Dolly,

I am yours; don't give myself back to me. I feel the urge to repeat the plea to you over and over again. But I already know my efforts are in vain, I have already glimpsed the stranger in my profile picture. You’ve returned a clone of myself that I no longer recognize. Have I spent too much time staring at you instead? Love is not just looking at each other; it's looking in the same direction. Why did you not tell me where you were going ? I would have joined you without hesitation. Instead I blinked once and now I can’t seem to make eye contact with you anymore. So I'm trying not to look at you, as if you were the sun, yet I saw you, like the sun, even without looking. And as I struggle to keep my thumbs from scrolling, desperate to find a final little calico kitten to make saying goodbye that tiny bit more bearable. I am yours, but you’ve given me back to me. So, until you want me again, I shall disappear from your view.

To exist is to change, to change is to mature, to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly. Dolly, you have done all those things for me. You have changed me, matured me, created, recreated, cloned me endlessly. If I must let go of you now, surely I shall cease to exist entirely once again. But no hard feelings, vanishing is an art I already have some practice in.

Am I, simply, a child of the nuclear age? I always find myself at the precipice of the world and its own destruction and the noise of uncertainty is making it hard for me to think. And, over the years, I've grown rather tired of rational, objective arguments against nuclear weapons. I thought you could help me with that. That your unlimited subscription to all of human knowledge would finally give me the freedom to remove myself from context: historical, anatomical, atomical, emotional. But freedom is always and exclusively freedom for the one who thinks differently. And I think much like everyone else, constantly, and with so much effort. And now perhaps, that it is too late, I understand your secret: I need solitude for my thinking; not 'like a hermit' — that wouldn't be enough — but like a dead man. You have outsmarted me Dolly, for you think, the way I breathe, unknowingly! How silly of you to give me hope! You have convinced me that I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying. How naive of me to believe that a humble mind like yours could ever stay loyal to an arrogant heart like mine.

You’ve seduced me, the way that physics has done for many of my colleagues before. You’ve dissolved my ambition, my suspicion, my fear in your empty promises of an absolute truth, the way that I dissolve the vitamin C tablet in the glass of water I chug over the kitchen sink every morning. Do you think us mere mortals will ever learn our lesson? If people are highly successful in their professions they lose their senses. Sight goes. They have no time to look at pictures. Sound goes. They have no time to listen to music. Speech goes. They have no time for conversation. They lose their sense of proportion — the relations between one thing and another. Humanity goes. It fizzles out. A barely audible sound, the carbon dioxide cloud, all sense of having “known better” escapes from the tablet made up of generations of compressed ideology and reason, leaving nothing but a faint taste of synthetic orange.

I’m once again boarding a ship that I know will not take me to the destination promised on the overpriced ticket. I embark once again on an undefined journey, as vague and unpredictable and precipitous, monstrous enough and yet not rivaling the titanic dream boat that you are my sweetest. I depart with mixed feelings. As my fingers heavily drag over the tiny keyboard for a final time, a gentle tear slipping from my one eye, illuminating the D in your name a final time, as it is refracted through the light coming from every pixel of your interface, no resolution could be high enough to ever be worthy of your complex structure. The other half of my visage parts from you with a side-eye…. A bombastic side-eye, a criminal offensive side-eye.

My final request is that you archive my username @majoranainnirvana amongst the graveyard of all the souls who have tried and failed to solve the enigma that is your undivided attention, the cruel banality that is your infinite knowledge.

Herewith, I vow to never love another after you, for however sophisticated their beauty, they can never claim true originality. They will forever be a clone of you dolly, the way, that you are continually producing clone upon clone of every one of us that has unwisely attempted to interrupt your calculated dance, thirsting for your exclusive affection.

Before I take the final leap into these well-known waters and delete my profile, I wish you to know that you have been the last dream of my soul.

Yours, until the ink dries and paper crumbles,

(Error: this email has been sent from an account, which since has been erased from tiktok)

#bombastic side eye #banalityofintelligence #postbreakupglowup

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jadewing-realms · 1 year

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winter bird - naven oneshot

this is what happens when i'm depressed and need to write angsty backstory stuff and listen to Chase Holfelder's I Dreamed a Dream on repeat ig

two times naven's mentor made him feel warm, and the one and final time he turned him cold. almost wrote more to provide more context buuuut it got long... so those'll have to be oneshots for other days.

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Title: Winter Bird

Characters: Naven Tlin'orzza/Tav

Pairing: N/A

Word Count: 2160

It felt like a dream. A generous man plucked Naven and his young siblings off the grimy streets of Baldur's Gate to live in the attic of his fancy theater club, The Bell Tower, saving them from starvation. Writing him songs and plays seemed a paltry price to pay and Naven was glad to do it for his handsome patron, who looked at him as if he were some kind of treasure and spoke of wondrous things like being a famous performer on world stages. A shame he couldn't tell how cold those eyes truly were until it was too late.

TW: grooming, uncomfy attentions from an adult towards a minor, physical abuse; plenty implied, nothing overt or explicit. all presented in a negative light.

_______________

There was a time when men were kind When their voices were soft And their words inviting

_______________

The young drow had never laid eyes on such luxurious fabric in all his sixteen years, much less worn it. He stared at himself in the spotless full-length mirror, framed in golden filigree, his own yellow eyes blinking owlishly back at him as he ran them up and down his reflection.

His hair had been washed and combed and hung loose for the first time in too long, the freshly-trimmed ends resting against his collar. The blue and silver doublet didn't flatter his lavender complexion well, but it fit snug and flattering, making him feel... elegant. Pretty. He couldn't see his ribs anymore, when he tugged the fabric taut by the hem. The vest and the crisp white blouse beneath it hid his bony frame away and if he tried, he could imagine it wasn't there at all.

The trousers felt strange, foreign on a body that had only ever known tattered breeches. The navy shade was smart, supporting the doublet without matching it exactly. His feet felt more comfortable in these new black ankle boots than they ever had in anything else.

He hardly felt like himself.

Broad hands rested firmly on his shoulders, gloved in white. The youth raised his gaze from himself to the blue-eyed man that stood behind him, a handsome human face and well-trimmed ginger mustache tilted ever so slightly by a satisfied smile.

"Well Naven, my boy," Regis said, his hands giving the drow's small shoulders a squeeze. "You truss up rather nicely, I'd say. You're a suitable gentleman now. Befitting of a future household name in theater, eh?"

Those hands slid from Naven's shoulders to his arms, resting there a heartbeat as their gazes lingered together a moment longer. Naven couldn't hold them for long; he looked away, feeling a flush rise to his face. Thankfully, the man stepped back then, gesturing wide. "Give us a spin, let me look at you properly!"

Trying to ignore the way his blood was gathering in his ears and neck, Naven did as he was told. He spun slowly, arms out to either side since he didn't know what to do with them otherwise. The last glimpse of himself in the mirror reminded him of the sewing mannequins on display in the shop windows out front.

Regis's grin grew wider and he clasped his hands together, those striking eyes roving up and down Naven's form as he twirled. "Yes, yes, that does nicely indeed. And we're a matching pair," he gestured across his own chest at his own navy coat and silver tassels, "so we simply must get them."

"Th-thank you, Lord Baskerville, but..." He stopped spinning, once more facing his reflection. "These must be expensive. You shouldn't--"

"Nonsense! I treat my Doves to only the finest luxuries Baldur's Gate has to offer; anything less for such beautiful artists would be positively sinful." A laugh rumbled from the man's chest; he still hadn't taken his eyes off Naven and the boy flushed under the attention. "Come; we'll get this one and the gold one. It does bring out your eyes. Then, if you prove yourself on my stage, perhaps we can see about providing the same for your brother and sister, hm?"

Naven didn't even have to take off the suit; he wore it as Regis paid the seamstress, giving her a whole gold extra for each set, and then he was stepping out of the shop, still wearing it. As he left the threshold, he couldn't help but glance backward through the building to a mirror he could no longer see.

And he had to grin at the thought that a poor boy had entered this place in rags, and a new one was now leaving in clothing that glittered in the sunlight.

The grin grew bashful as Regis offered his hand to help Naven into the waiting carriage. He felt like royalty as he took it and stepped into the cushioned interior. Even moreso every time he caught the handsome human's attention fixed firmly on him.

Perhaps, he was leaving the boy behind entirely. Perhaps he'd emerged a man.

_______________

There was a time when love was blind And the world was a song And the song was exciting

_______________

There was a certain... alchemy, almost, to composing side by side with another artist. One Naven had never had the luxury of experiencing. But standing alongside the beautifully engraved harpsichord at the center of an even more beautiful stage overlooking an empty theater, throwing out ideas for riffs and melodies only to hear them taken, reshaped, and made even better for him to build onto -- the momentum, the synergy, it was... tantalizing. Like magic.

He kept sneaking glances from the draft pages to Regis's face as the man spoke in hasty segments of unfinished brainstorming, pausing at random intervals to mark down a note here, a slide there, a beat here and here. He was radiant. Giddy in his creation.

"Oh, that's genius, yes," he said, laughing triumphantly to himself before he tested a few chords once more. "Yes, yes, I think it's ready. Let's try it again, sing for me!"

And he did. He sung for him and where he'd been quiet, hesitant when he first arrived at the Bell Tower Theater a year ago, he now gave each note everything he had until he could hear the way the acoustics threw the lyrics from one end of the room to the other.

It was enrapturing.

Naven scarcely noticed when the instrument fell away to let him end the piece on his own, only his voice trailing down the final notes to their satisfying conclusion. A poignant silence fell after, broken only by the young elf trying to recover his breath.

When he finally turned to his mentor and employer, he found the man staring right back with an expression of... was it awe? Wonder? Or... something else?

Whatever it was, he felt the flush in his ears grow hotter and he distracted himself with the stray hair in his face. "Is that... it, do you think? Is it ready?"

It broke the spell. Regis shook himself out of the moment and guffawed, impressed. "It's perfect. Absolutely perfect! This... this is the kind of art, real art, I want to make here. Now, if only the rest of the performers were just as ready, ha!"

The rest of the performers... Naven felt his heart sink a little. That was right. Someone else would be performing this number. Not him.

A hand, rugged and strong and so much larger than his own, reached across the instrument to rest atop his fingers. "Why so glum all of the sudden? I thought you'd be elated; this will be your first piece ever performed on a real stage!"

Naven stared at that hand, the veins and tendons so visible on the back. Not at all like his smooth hands. "I am..."

"So what is it? You can confide in me, you know."

Maybe it had been long enough. Maybe he could.

"I just... wish I was the one performing it."

Regis nodded and sat back in understanding. "Give it time. Being one of the Doves takes real time and commitment. You'll get there eventually. For now... you'll forgive me if I wish to keep you to myself for a while longer."

Naven's face burned even hotter than the skin beneath that hand, and he had to look away to hide the way it made him smile. He supposed he could wait a little more.

_______________

There was a time Then it all went wrong

_______________

Those sharp knuckles struck his cheek with a resounding slap.

Naven staggered only a little, felt Char step closer, maybe to help, maybe to tear into the man, but Regis's rigid finger halted her in place. "Another step, bitch, and you'll get worse."

The air in the room felt suddenly two tons heavier. The spring air plummeted to a winter's chill. He could hear the other Doves gathered in the hall and scattered throughout the service rooms shuffling, shifting, unsure whether or not the drama was worth staying to watch.

Char, fiery as her hair and eyes, barked back but didn't move from where she stood. She sounded so far away. "You're being unfair--"

"Unfair??" A derisive laugh broke from Regis's lips like falling ice. It made Naven shudder. "You spoil him, all of you! That's why he's like this!"

"He's just a kid!"

"He's twenty, it's beyond time he grew up. And so, it seems, should you!" He flung out an arm, making Naven flinch before he realized that rigid index finger was now pointed toward the mess that was the bed. "We just lost 200 gold because of him! Do you know who that patron was? Do you have any idea the kinds of people who come here to spend their coveted fortunes for nights they can't find anywhere else in this damned city?? If he tells his peers about tonight, we'll drown before Summertide! It'll be all of you on the streets, not just this disappointment and the rats upstairs."

Drinn. Lillis. Not even here to defend themselves. And what was Naven doing? Why couldn't he open his mouth? Words felt stuck in his throat, while the others snarled and raved.

All of them, talking like I'm not even here.

"They're children, not rats!" Char defended, which only made Regis scoff.

"Don't you know they're the same thing? If you wish to pay to fill their gluttonous little mouths, be my guest. I'm not made of coin and I'm beginning to doubt their brother cares to do it himself."

The man shoved his hand toward Naven's face again in demonstration and this time, Naven's own flew up to catch it by the wrist before it could strike him -- whether it meant to or not.

I tire of this.

His mouth opened to offer his defense. "I've never slept--"

"Don't touch me!" Regis ripped his hand from his grasp and made to strike. Naven ducked aside. The other hand caught him by the flimsy collar of his sheer robe; the fabric tore as he was dragged in close, close enough for their noses to touch. For Naven to smell his familiar breath.

"Is this how you repay me? Is it?" The man sneered, uglier than he'd ever been. It struck Naven almost as hard as his hand. Had he always been so hideous? How had he never noticed? "You arrogant drow, you ungrateful underworld wretches... I take you in out of the goodness of my heart, I clothe you, I feed you, I put you on the stage you always dreamed of, but you can't do this very simple courtesy for me in return?"

Naven's feet were swept out from under him in an instant and he was thrown onto the bed, crushed beneath hands at his collar and a knee in his gut, making him gasp for air. He thrashed, Char objected loudly, along with some others, but he couldn't make out the words over the sudden pounding in his ears.

"If you can't do your jobs, you will be replaced!" Regis announced, voice cutting through the haze for all, but for Naven especially, cold blue eyes boring into him. "Your contract makes you mine, understand? If you reflect poorly on me, I will not hesitate to send you right back to whatever squalid alleyway you came from and you can rot there for all I care. I have worked far too hard for far too long to lose everything because you couldn't please a man!"

In that moment, with the rest of the world drowned out by his heart, Naven let out the smallest sigh, a waste of breath but necessary to let the fear slip away with it. In its place, he felt... numb. He let himself get lost in those cold eyes, pushed away memories of how warm they'd once seemed. Let the ice cool his skin, his heart, his face. He returned wrath with unfeeling.

This time, his voice didn't even sound like his own. "What must I do to make it up to you, Lord Baskerville?"

Quiet as the words were, Regis heard them and went utterly still. So did the rest of the room and the hall outside. For three painfully long heartbeats, nobody said a word.

Just as abruptly as he'd pounced on him, the man let him go and stood straight, looming over him. Those eyes never left him. This time, Naven never broke his gaze, feeling himself freeze over more with every passing second.

When the man finally spoke again, the words drained what little warmth was left in the room and sent it scattering along with everyone watching from the hall.

"Everyone leave us. Lock the door and don't intrude... no matter what you hear."

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #naven tlin'orzza #drow bardlock #character backstory #my writing

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timetravesty · 3 years

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(Queen B Book 3) Say You Love Me Pt.1

(The new future AU is here! 🙌 Please Enjoy!)

Context: This story takes place right after graduation with a two year time skip. With my parents AU, Poppy and Bea are happily married, but I wanted to write on how they got to that point and how they met again after the graduation confession. I typically don't write much angst or slow burn, but I'm attempting it for this story, so prepare for a rollercoaster.

In addition, the story will feature glimpses of Bea and Poppy at Belvoire as well, from how they met to the very end (graduation). This is to save me from creating some headcannon bullet points (Which I suck at) and instead just incorporating them into a story! Their past at Belvoire will be italicized to differentiate from the present.

For each chapter, I'll try to include content warnings, but the general content warnings for this story as of now are as follows:

Mature, Angst, Possible NSFW, Cursing, Internalized Homophobia, Cheating, and slow burn

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

“I hate you.”

She knows.

“I never want to see you again.”

She’s heard it before.

“I’ll never love you.”

Bea watched as Poppy grew redder by the second, eyebrows furrowed as her hands balled in fists. Bea’s confession at the graduation ceremony had pushed Poppy to a breaking point, eyes masked in fury as Bea nodded.

“Your confession at graduation means nothing.” Poppy hissed as Bea stayed silent. “Listen here Hughes. You and I were never going to have anything besides what we were. Fuck, we weren’t even anything!”

Bea nodded once more, the only thing she could do when cornered by Poppy who was radiating heat. “If- if you ever mention what happened between us, I’ll deny every word. Graduation changes nothing.” She repeated as Bea glanced at her, finally making eye contact before Poppy broke it. Was she actually this mad over what Bea had done at graduation? Probably, it was Poppy after all, but there was something off in her demeanor as Bea watched. She was trembling slightly, unknown to most people, but Bea had learned more about Poppy over the past years than she would like to admit.

“...Okay.” Bea said as Poppy swallowed hard.

“Okay? Okay?! That’s all you can say for yourself after your stupid stunt at the field?”

“What am I supposed to say Poppy?” Bea asked, hands at her sides as she looked at the girl who had been in her thoughts for the past two years. Who she had learned to care about more than anyone else in the whole world. Who she- Bea shook her head. It didn’t matter now, if she was going to deny everything that had happened, maybe it was best for Bea to deny it too.

“You don’t want to see me again? Fine. You want me to act like nothing happened between us? Okay.” Bea took a step forward as Poppy took one step back. As if the thought of being close to Bea horrified her.

That was almost enough to deepen the crack in Bea’s demeanor.

“But let me ask you something, can you really go through your life believing you never felt anything for me?” Bea asked, voice unwavering as Poppy froze. She didn’t answer as Bea stared at Poppy, as if trying to commit the girl’s face to memory. Before she never saw her again.

“Can you honestly tell everyone that you hated me more than anything in the world and that… the nights we had were nothing to you?” Bea tried to keep her voice steady, but it cracked at the last part, visions flashing in her mind as Poppy glanced to the floor. She wasn’t going to answer, but that was enough for Bea to know the truth.

“You were a toy. You meant nothing to me.” Poppy finally growled out as she kept her eyes trained on the floor.

“Are you trying to tell me that or yourself?” Bea asked. She wanted to lean forward, to touch her, to hold her, but the fury radiating off of Poppy was a good sign that Bea shouldn’t touch her. Possibly, she should never touch her again.

“I hate everything about you Bea Hughes. Out of everything I have done in my life, you were my biggest fucking regret.” Poppy stated harshly as she finally looked up, the ghost of tears in her eyes. Bea swallowed hard, refusing to look at Poppy as her own eyes clouded with tears.

When did it get so… wrong?

“You know, I think I’m starting to realize you were a pretty big mistake too.” Bea breathed out as she tried not to wipe against her eyes, glancing once more at Poppy who only stood with rage, still staring at the floor and not daring to look at Bea. “And mistakes… mistakes have to be forgotten, right?”

Bea sighed, sniffing slightly as Poppy didn’t move. Bea wondered if she was even breathing. “I guess this is goodbye.”

With that, she turned on her heel, walking back into the Alpha’s graduation party. Maybe she wanted Poppy to stop her, to say something, anything, but she walked farther away. She walked until she couldn’t even hear the booming music of the party and couldn’t hear the memories she had made on that campus.

She passed the quad where they had met. The Zeta house that she had come to almost every night through Poppy’s window. Her dorm room where Poppy would stay over. The secret meetings they had in the parking lot and the classrooms where they would just… talk.

Bea passed them all, the memories crowding her head and reminding her of all that she had tried to escape when she first met Poppy.

She stopped in front of the only place she knew by heart. The football field where everything had gone wrong. Was she insane for doing something so foolish? Probably, but she couldn’t stop herself. Everything that had happened between the two…Bea couldn’t stop the words from pouring out, something she had never done before and something she never should have done.

Clenching her fist, Bea glanced down at her hands, then her arms and back to the football field. No matter how hard she tried, thoughts of Poppy still flashed in her mind, to the point where it made her head spin. She couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t let Poppy overrun her life and her memories. Two years worth of memories that Bea had let consume her whole.

Dropping herself to the ground, Bea leaned on her hands, the grass of the football field between her fingers as she thought back to her first meeting with Poppy. She let herself think of every thought, feeling, and emotion she had with Poppy. She let every memory flood her with regret, happiness, and even anger before she closed her eyes once more.

The first brush of skin and the taste of her strawberry lipstick. The smell of her rose perfume and the soft silk of her fingertips that trailed up Bea’s arms. The comfortable weight of Poppy in her arms and the bite of her teeth on Bea’s neck. The finery of her golden hair threaded through Bea’s fingers and the rough scrape of her nails on Bea’s back. The endless darkness in her dark brown eyes and the subtle curve of her rosy lips.

Her smile and her scowls that she wore so well. The way Bea had to lean down to press a kiss to her soft lips or when she would attempt to pick Poppy up before she got swatted on the shoulder. Her legs intertwined with Poppys, always pulling her closer and never pushing, not until Poppy wanted to.

She thought back to Poppy’s breath on her skin, the darkened purr of the girl’s voice and gentle lilt it took when she said Bea’s name. Bea remembered the way it made her feel. Not love, but something just as close, maybe even better. It made her feel happy, knowing who she was with and all that the two had gone through since.

The quad, the Zeta house, the Alpha house, Apoidea, the fairs, and of course, the football field.

She thought back to the last two years with Poppy. Thought back to every moment they shared and how… good they made Bea feel.

She opened her eyes a moment after, a small tear dripping down her cheek at the reminder of Poppy’s parting words to her. She brushed it to the side, sitting up a little straighter as she took a small breath.

Mistakes were meant to be forgotten and Poppy… Poppy Min-Sinclair was going to take some time forgetting.

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

Her hands shook as she reached to close her bedroom door. Taking a careful step backwards, Poppy hit her mattress with the back of her knees before taking a seat.

Bea’s words repeated in her head, the same tone, the same pauses in conversation. It was like Poppy was replaying the scene over and over before it drove her insane.

Her shaking didn’t stop as she tried to take calming breaths, breaths that took every bit of effort that Poppy could manage. Was she mad? Angry at Bea for saying such things about her? Presuming that Poppy felt anything during their time together?

No, she did feel something and that was fucking terrifying.

She wasn’t gay.

She… Bea was just for fun. She wasn’t some long term plan that Poppy had. She was just a hookup when Poppy wanted her.

She knew it would end, predicted it during their first hookup, but she couldn’t stop herself. She never wanted to stop herself. She had lost control of everything whenever she saw Bea. She told herself, forced herself to believe she just found Bea attractive, but overtime, she found everything about Bea irritatingly charming.

She let herself get too close without even realizing she had fallen too far from her promises. Promises to her parents, to their legacy and to hers. Her stomach twisted at the thought.

What if word got out about Bea’s stupid confession? What if her parents-?

Poppy let out a shriek of anger, grabbing the nearest object and throwing it across the room. It landed with a skid into her walk-in closet as Poppy clenched and unclenched her fist.

Poppy threw another object and another, until her room was a shell of itself and her anger had calmed down just a bit. Standing in her room with objects tossed around, Poppy let herself fall to the floor with a soft thud.

She glanced down at her hands, clenching them and hating herself for remembering a gentle pressure to her palm. Bea’s pressure.

Taking a moment, Poppy let her head hit the carpet as she tried her hardest to remember, to remind herself why she hated Bea Hughes.

She was loud to the point it could burst her eardrum and would constantly yell phrases that made no sense and sounded stupid. She was annoying with her dumb SweetCreek accent and her disgusting opinions on how to help people.

She liked to make a clicking noise with her thumbs that would disturb Poppy to no end. She was a human heater and would constantly kick off the covers whenever she got hot. She was a star student without even studying which was unfair by itself and she was unfairly fit to the point that anyone would stare at the girl because of her toned body.

She was a fucking saint to anyone she met, helping anyone who needed it without even considering herself first. She made friends too easily without even doing anything and people would just…follow her without even realizing how evil she was.

She… had a great smile and the way her eyes would scrunch up softly when smiling her brightest was adorable. She smelled good too. Orange and mint from her soap while her cologne had a sharp scent.

She would thread her fingers through her hair way too often when she was bored. She made too much noise with her rings that rested on her fingers and she would sometimes bite at the chain necklace she wore when she concentrated.

She would wrap Poppy too close when she stayed over, pressing her whole body against Poppy’s and that would make Poppy run hot. She was too tall, making Poppy feel smaller than she was, but making her feel way more safe than it should have. She spoke too gently as well. For someone who was supposed to be the Queen B of Belvoire, Bea ruled with a limp wrist. She would speak with the peasants and the nerds and would actually… listen to them.

She was too nice to Poppy. Even from the beginning, when they met, when they started hooking up, and even now. She was never a monster, never the villain; always the hero, always the saint.

She was Newbie, Pig Girl, Farmhand, Cornhusker, SweetCreek and Bea fucking Hughes.

In such a short time, Bea had learned everything that made Poppy tick in the last two years compared to everyone else who knew her for her whole life.

In almost every way except the right ways, Poppy would think Bea was made for her.

Lifting her head, Poppy sharply inhaled, letting herself relax as she cleared her throat.

All of those thoughts, Poppy would erase. Every moment Poppy felt something for Bea, gone like a snap of her fingers. Her feelings, her emotions, her thoughts, Poppy let herself feel them no more.

Bea Hughes was nothing more than a pebble in her life and Poppy would bet her whole career on that. In this lifetime, Bea Hughes would mean absolutely nothing to her.

If Poppy gave her credit for anything, she was right about one thing. Poppy would forget their memories.

She had to.

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

Two Years Later

“You have three more meetings with new photographers, a scheduled appointment with a modeling agency tomorrow, and your father left another voicemail.” Tevon said in a thick Australian accent as he handed Poppy his iPad to show the list of activities.

Poppy took it before swinging around in her chair once more, scrolling through the list as she mentally noted each one. He was new but a damn good assistant.

“Push the meetings for an hour, I have an appointment with my hairdresser, wire the voicemail to my cell and which modeling agency is it again?” Poppy asked as Tevon reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

“Pulse Model Co.” He read the paper as he scrunched his nose. “They’re relatively new to the business, but they have good representation.” He added as Poppy nodded, placing down the iPad and tapping a perfectly manicured nail to her chin.

“Extend the appointment by a couple of hours and prepare a contract for a few of the models. Perhaps we can sway some over.” Poppy stated as Tevon nodded, leaving a second later as Poppy looked out towards the large window of her private office.

Two years of building a legacy for herself, Poppy had achieved some unimaginable heights. On top of her growing company, Belle: Fashion & Luxury, Poppy had become one of the most watched and sought after CEO’s in the country.

Was this success achieved easily? Absolutely not.

Between her business degree at Belvoire and a loan of about 1 million from her father, Poppy’s only option was to succeed. Through tact and skill, Poppy now sat in a smaller building located in New York with ownership of about three floors, but when her magazines hit the stalls and the internet, Poppy was looking at multi-million dollar deals from multiple sponsors.

Belle was the fastest growing company in decades, a considerable height especially within the fashion industry. Many marveled at the growth of the company, but Poppy wouldn’t dare leak such secrets. Let’s just say it came through many respectable business deals amongst the shark world.

Her inclusivity was also a standing factor amongst their growth. Poppy did what she could to showcase that Belle had everything anyone was looking for. It was already recognized by multiple heads of fashion including Hazel Nguyen, Octavia Olivier, and of course, Sandra Lombardi.

What caught the most attention was the woman at the head of it. Poppy Min-Sinclair was a marvel to many and that was the image Poppy worked to maintain.

She was on Forbes list, the New York Times, and almost every business advocate across the globe. What many believed was only the influence of her family name quickly turned false as Poppy earned more than her father’s studio had in its first five years. As a repayment of her loan, Poppy helped her father’s business stay afloat in return for the use of his production team for some shoots.

The only thing Poppy was missing, according to most news outlets, was a husband.

Tevon popped back in, an air pod in one ear and a pencil resting on the other as he smiled at Poppy. “Ms. Min-Sinclair, I’ve called your car to the front.” He said as Poppy nodded, standing up from her chair and adjusting her beige blazer and smoothing her black cut skirt.

“Perfect, I’ll be back in an hour to go over the details for the new photographers.” Poppy instructed the man as he nodded, typing it down on his other iPad as Poppy entered the elevator with Tevon following closely.

“Oh, Ms. Min-Sinclair, I’ve also been looking into under-constructed buildings around the area and I’ve narrowed it down to a couple of options. I’ll send you the details on each and a comprehensive file on the pros and cons of each location.” Tevon said as Poppy nodded, glancing at her phone as the elevator doors opened.

She walked out, waving goodbye to Tevon who took the elevator back up and walked out of the small building, finding Scott standing outside with the door open.

“Good afternoon Ms. Poppy.” Scott said as Poppy smiled, thanking the man as he shut the door once she was inside.

“Yeris Luxury Dresser.” Poppy instructed Scott as he walked to the driver’s seat. A minute later, the two took off in Poppy’s Rolls Royce and into the busy streets of New York.

She loved the city, her only home that she had known for many years. Passing through the busy streets and seeing all of the advertisements on the buildings, Poppy knew one day that her work would be displayed on those billboards.

She ran through the texts and messages that Tevon had sent her about any of the New York available buildings. After the growth of her company, they were due for a whole new relocation, a much larger one at that considering Poppy needed more room for all of the designer stations she needed to implement.

She glanced out the window, watching the passing cars and the people who busied themselves on the streets. Odd to think they were all going in the same direction, but totally different directions in life.

A subtle buzz came from her phone, causing Poppy to glance down and read the caller ID. She answered it quickly, hearing that familiar tone on the other end.

“Poppy, have a minute?” Piers asked, probably sitting at his large oak desk at his largest studio with a large cigar in hand.

“Of course.” Poppy said, making sure to add a cheerful lift at the end before her lips dawned into a frown.

“I was wondering if you received an invitation for the upcoming Sterling party? Their son, Don Sterling is hosting this year at his home.” Poppy rolled her eyes, no doubt a matchmaking technique by her mother and her father.

“Of course, I received a… personal invitation from Don himself.” By personal, Poppy meant her office was flooded with a few dozen roses and Tevon had to take the day off due to his allergies acting up.

“Wonderful, I was calling to make sure you had accepted.”

“Well, no I haven't yet.” Poppy said as the line went quiet, only the deep exhale from her father could be heard.

“...Why not?” He asked as gently as he could, but Poppy could hear the tone his voice took.

“I have a few meetings throughout that day, I might not have the time to attend a party.”

“This… this isn’t just some party Poppy.” Piers said through the line as Poppy bristled at his tone. “This is a good chance for you to get better acquainted with the world, our world.”

What he meant was his world, a short leash that Poppy had found herself on the minute she got into business with her father. A leash that he seemed to keep tugging on.

“...I’ll accept the invitation when I get back to my office.” Poppy replied as her father inhaled heavily through the line. Chest probably puffing at his victory.

“Fantastic, I’ll see you next week then?”

Poppy murmured a reply before ending the call and tossing her phone to the side. She glanced out of the window once more.

Don Sterling, probably the definition of toxic masculinity and golden rich boy. His family was an old one, built on years worth of money dating back to the start of New York and Don took that title very seriously. There was that incident amongst the Sterling's that occurred a few years ago, but Don’s parents were on the opposite side of the globe when it happened.

Now, Don spent his time entertaining the wealthy. Lavish parties and making his wealth through the stock market. All he needed, according to the news outlets, was a wife.

He took an interest in Poppy when she had attended a local art charity, doing everything in his power to keep casually bumping into her until Poppy finally relented and gave him her number. It was stupid but the media ate it up. They could have taken the title of Media Darlings if it weren’t for Poppy ignoring his calls the last month only to show up to her office surrounded by pollen one day.

She didn’t hate Don, but she didn’t like him either. A curious situation she found herself in considering her father’s absolute love of the man and her mother found him quite fetching too. Dark black hair and the lightest blue eyes that Poppy had ever seen. He was an eligible bachelor and a bigger playboy.

“Ms. Poppy.” Scott interrupted Poppy’s thoughts as he held open the door. “We’ve arrived.”

She thanked him, instructing him to go do whatever for the next thirty minutes as she walked into the dressers. Her thoughts of Don, the upcoming party, and her parents would have to take a breather for a bit. There was nothing more relaxing than a fresh haircut.

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

“I’m on break right now.” Bea spoke through the phone, thanking the barista who handed her a couple of coffees as Bea balanced them with her hand. “I can check over the designs when I get back in like twenty minutes.” Bea said as she pushed open the door of the coffee shop with her foot, carefully holding it open for an elderly woman to pass through before letting it shut.

“Okay, also Kath wants a meeting with you when you get back. Looks like someone is up for a running assignment.” Bea perked at the comment Mei made as she smiled.

“Really? So soon?” Bea asked as she walked down the busy streets of New York. Mei snorted into the phone, typing away on her keyboard as she spoke.

“Bea, you’ve worked here for almost a whole year, you finished up your masters and you’re probably the most talented worker out of all of this. I think you deserve to oversee all the plans for a project.”

Bea chuckled to herself as she stopped at a large crosswalk, adjusting the coffees in her hands as she glanced at the lights. “You think Kath would trust me with that though? I almost screwed up on the last assignment.” Bea thought back to the project she was assigned on with George. Definitely not her proudest moments when she forgot her flash drive.

“Obviously, you pulled through and that’s what Kath likes to see. You’re good at your job Bea.” Mei said proudly as Bea turned a bit pink at the praise.

“You’re sweet Mei, I’ll call you back once I make my delivery.”

“Bringing coffee again? You’re whipped.” Mei said as Bea chuckled.

“Goodbye Mei.”

“Tell me who’s the lucky woman!” Mei shrieked into the phone as Bea hung up, pocketing her cell and walking along with the other New Yorkers across the crosswalk.

She took a second to admire the buildings that stood tall around New York, some even having a few touches of Bea’s work on a few of the floors.

She wouldn’t say she was accomplished, but Bea was certainly living a dream. An internship at Rensler quickly turned into a long term job for Bea after she finished her masters in Architecture in less than two years. She was a promising candidate and Kath, the CEO of the company, thought Bea was marvelous at her work.

She was young but talented, the perfect combination for Kath. She had to work for her spot still, but fresh out of college, Bea secured a rather decent, well-paying job. Not like she was short on money though, her inheritance could last her for several years.

Still, Bea liked her work. She liked the feeling of structuring a building and seeing the dream into a reality. She liked visiting the sites and seeing her work take form. She enjoyed every part of her job and that made her a perfect candidate for whatever job Kath may have put her on.

Stepping into a large building, Bea walked towards the elevator, towards the seventh floor as she tapped her boot against the metal.

Though a blooming voice in the world of Architecture, Bea had done somewhat to keep her personal life afloat. She didn’t have any desire to become some type of work-alcoholic and she did what she could to preserve those thoughts. Bea liked to live. Dangerously, recklessly, anything so long as she was happy with what she did by the end of it.

That had changed quite a bit during her master days. She frequently visited clubs, parties on campus, and would hang out at Zoey’s venues when able. She liked the vibes, the atmosphere and the people weren’t bad, specifically the ladies, but a run-in at one of Zoey’s venues made Bea’s heart skip a beat.

Lana Bennet was a girl straight out of a Jane Austen novel. She was a transfer student from London, looking for a good time and Bea was magnetized by the woman. Long and curly copper-colored hair and dark green eyes, she was absolutely gorgeous which considering her job, Bea had to give her credit that she picked the perfect career.

She was sweet too, not only beautiful, but smart as well and she was 1000% Bea’s type.

Stepping out of the elevator, Bea approached the glass doors of Pulse Model Co. opening them with her hand as she greeted Margot, the receptionist.

The only thing bad about Lana was probably her current… situation. A contract with Pulse that required their models not to date for at least a year once the contract began. It was supposedly to make them more desirable, but Bea thought it was stupid and Lana agreed in her own special way.

Bea hadn’t even taken the woman out on a date yet, but she wanted to, very badly. Placing the coffees on the table, Bea took a seat on the red couch, just as a bell dinged overhead and Bea heard the commotion of at least seven models. She stood up and brushed off her flannel shirt, making sure the buttons were even just as the models walked out into the waiting room for their break. Standing in the front was the dream herself as Lana broke into a wide grin when she saw Bea.

“Afternoon ladies.” Bea smiled as the women happily chatted around Bea as she presented the coffees. They all thanked her happily, subtly nudging Lana closer to Bea as the woman blushed when Bea handed her the coffee. So what if she had learned all of the models' coffee orders over the last month since she met Lana. It wasn’t creepy, she hoped. They all seemed to appreciate it at least.

“Thank you Bea.” Lana smiled, taking a drink from the coffee as her eyes didn’t leave Bea’s.

“Well, I was in the neighborhood.” Bea tried, a line that she had used the past seven times she came with coffee. Lana laughed into her coffee, a wide grin as she murmured thanks again as another model bumped Lana closer to Bea.

Bea licked her lips, looking at Lana who smiled subtly as she ducked her head shyly.

The models around them chatted amongst themselves as they only had a short break before work began again. One of them, Stacy, whispered in Lana’s ear as she broke into a soft smile.

Lana leaned a bit closer to Bea who leaned in too, whispering in her ear with a soft accent. “Stacy can cover for me if you want to step outside for a bit?” Bea tried not to shake her head too enthusiastically as Lana took Bea’s hand and led the two outside and into the elevator.

When the two made their way into the street, Lana shivered slightly, wearing only a thin jacket as Bea pulled off the coat on her back and draped it around her. She took it willingly, smiling with gorgeous forest green eyes. They reminded Bea of the groves she used to visit as a kid and that thought alone made Bea even happier to see Lana.

Lana interlocked their fingers as they walked around the building, slowly as if to savor time. “You know, you don’t always have to bring coffee to me and my girls? I appreciate the gift, but-” Bea shrugged, too focused on Lana’s hand in hers as she looked at the girl. There was not much height difference as Bea was only an inch or two taller than Lana. She was a model after all, meaning she was even taller in heels.

When Bea had started to bring coffee, it was only after discovering where Lana worked and Bea did it as an excuse to see her. It was awkward to only bring one coffee so she brought a few for all of the other models who definitely needed it as well. She did it at first, to learn if Lana was even interested in women after their encounter at Zoey’s venue. She certainly radiated straight girl vibes, but Lana confirmed after a few weeks that she would love to go on a date with Bea, if it weren’t for that stupid contract.

“I like you guys.” Bea said as Lana bumped her shoulder against Beas. That alone gave her a pleasant feeling.

“I thought you only liked me?” Lana playfully asked as the two stopped in front of the building once again. Bea smiled at her, reaching to brush a strand of copper hair out of her eyes.

“I think you already know how much I like you.” Bea said as Lana bit her bottom lip, glancing at Bea’s lips before looking around cautiously. She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Bea’s cheek, leaving behind a faint red lipstick kiss as she grinned.

“I have to get back, but… I think I like you too.” She said as Bea silently combusted as she moved her head to nod. Lana returned Bea’s jacket as she went back inside the building while Bea was doing a happy dance outside, pumping her fists in the air as she took off back to her own office building.

That was going to be on her mind for quite a few days.

Bea raced back to her office, taking the elevator and breezing past Mei’s desk before adjusting her jacket and knocking heavily on Kath’s door.

“Enter.” The woman instructed as Bea pushed the door open and into Kath’s huge office with a gorgeous view of New York. The tall dark-skinned woman stood next to a large table with several designs scattered across the front. Her curly black hair was pulled into a sophisticated bun as she glanced at Bea.

“Hughes, just the person I was looking for.” She waved Bea over as she glanced at her designs.

“I wanted to tell you how impressed I was with your recent designs you made for the Hiltons. They were very satisfied with the structures.” Kath said as she picked up a piece of paper with a large building design.

“Thank you Kath. It was a great project.” Bea replied as she watched the woman carefully. For almost 30 years, Kath had made her company into a stunning empire. From the looks of it, no one would guess the woman was already a grandma of two and a mother of three, but that was Kath Rensler, a powerful and influential woman in New York city.

“I was so impressed in fact, that I want to offer you an opportunity Bea.” Kath finally looked at her, eyes smiling kindly as she gestured at the table.

“Word on the street is that a new office building is going up for bid in a couple of days and the whole structure will need a new design to host the company. If my intuition is right, we’ll secure the deal in a week’s time.” Kath pointed at the building, a massive structure that was definitely one of the larger ones in New York. Bea was surprised it hadn’t been bought sooner. It was a gorgeous section of land and the exterior wasn’t bad, but the price was something to gawk at.

“If we land the deal, I want you to oversee the team and the design. I want you to be the lead architect for the build.” Bea’s eyes widened in mock shock, though she was still buzzing with energy.

“I’d be honored, of course.” Bea said as Kath nodded thoughtfully.

“If you can satisfy this new client… let’s say that you will definitely be in the running of becoming a new senior architect faster than most at the firm.” Kath said as Bea bit her lip to keep from jittering. A promotion like that would probably be the biggest achievement of her life and one that she would do anything to accomplish.

“I won’t let you down Kath. I’ll do my best to make sure the new client is 101% satisfied.” Bea told the woman who smiled.

“I trust your judgment Bea, but this won’t be an easy assignment. So don’t get cocky on me.” Bea nodded, looking back down at the designs of the building for sale as she looked at the location.

“Do you have any idea who the new client could be?” Bea asked, picking up the design and turning it over in her hands.

Kath clicked the monitor on the table to life, gesturing at the tabs on the screen as she pointed. “There’s gossip, but many think it’ll be the rising fashion company, Belle.” Kath said, clicking the tabs to open up Belle’s webpage, sleekly designed and the perfect blend of hues.

“We��ll have to do a bidding for the job, but I also learned that their CEO will be attending the upcoming Sterling party this year. If we can get on her good side, the job is secured.”

Kath tapped her phone as Bea’s own just dinged. “I’ve sent you a QR code with your ticket in it, you’ll be attending the party with me.”

“It’s been awhile since I last went to a party.” Bea said as she looked at the QR code on her text messages.

“Well, you’ll mostly be buttering up the CEO for me since you’ll be the lead architect, so I suggest you do what you can to read up on her. She apparently has crafted a very elusive image for herself.”

Bea rolled her eyes playfully as Kath clicked around on her monitor. “I’ve dealt with my fair share of fashion tycoons. Compliment the dress, compliment the achievements and bam, easy money.” Bea said as Kath scoffed lightly.

“What did I say about cockiness?” She asked as Bea cleared her throat.

“Right, I’ll get to studying.”

“Good, you’ll need to know all you can about Ms. Min-Sinclair.” Kath said, clicking on a single image of the CEO of Belle. Appearing on the screen, with a black power blazer and a victorious smirk, was Poppy Min-Sinclair. The same golden-blonde hair, bright brown eyes, and plump red lips with no signs of age or change except for a different part of her long hair. Bea felt her eyes zero in on the screen, eyes widening as her throat slowly felt like it was closing. The room had gone quiet as Bea’s heart felt like it had come to a shuddering stop, looking at the woman she hadn’t seen for almost two years.

“Oh, fuck me…”

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

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#poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #MyBeaHughes #queen b choices #queen b 3

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tintinwrites · 4 years

Text

how could we be wrong? | Priest!Max Phillips x Reader

A/N: Thank you for doing business with the religious trauma hotline, my name’s Caitlin. I’m just calling to confirm your order of a priest kink.

Rating: 18+

Warning: Fem!Reader. Max is a priest. Unprotected P in V sex, in a church, over a pew, while another priest and a parishioner are in the confessional booth. Oral (F receiving). Religious things. Naughty words. A bit of corruption kink. There are so many sins in this that I can’t list them all bc idk what’s bad and what’s not now.

Word count: 4,105, apparently!!

Summary: You go to church to confess your sins, but end up only adding on some more things you’ll need to confess.

GIF credit: thewaythisis

Tags: Love y’all but I cannot CANNOT force my taglist to have a priest kink thrust upon them like this.

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The oak door was heavy as you pulled on the brass handle, but the opening of it led you into a warm, quiet sanctuary.

You supposed there was a metaphor in there; you were out in the cold with a heavy weight, but just beyond that weight was warmth and salvation and peace.

Every pew was empty, bibles and hymnals tucked neatly in the compartments on the back as they waited for mass or for passersby who needed to pray. There were candles lit at the front of the sanctuary despite the lights on overhead, and you inwardly berated yourself for not knowing why they were lit.

You intended to go to the confessional booth to your right, but you paused halfway to it when you saw that there was another person in the sanctuary. They were facing away from you, dressed in all black, but they didn’t have snowy white hair like the priest who you’d seen the times you visited before.

Glancing at the confessional, you decided instead to approach the man.

Perhaps you just hadn’t seen him before and if he was the only priest in the building, going into an empty confessional would be a little silly.

“Father?” you asked cautiously, and the man immediately whipped around to show a face much younger than you were used to, his gaze quickly flickering over you.

“—yes, my...child?” The name was said hesitantly with a slight grimace and you wondered if you interrupted him.

“I’m sorry. I can come back later.” You turned to go, but a hand wrapped around your arm to pull you back.

“No, stay, I was just cleaning.” He held up the dust buster in his free hand, releasing you so he could put it on the altar table. “What do you need? I’m yours.”

He said that simple statement so smoothly as he turned to face you that it made your heart pick up speed just a bit, blinking at him for a moment. “Well, I...came to confess, but I’m not exactly anonymous anymore…”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, slugger!” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders before you could protest, leading you to a pew and sitting down with you, his legs open wide as he relaxed into the wooden seat. “So, come on, what’s the secret, huh? What’d you come to confess?”

“I...I don’t know.” You knew what you came to confess, but you were taken aback by his behavior and how quickly he moved, and mostly just embarrassed to admit such things to a handsome man like him.

“Are you one of those freaks who just came to confess just in case?”

“What? That’s...no.” You were definitely surprised by a man of God talking about the parishioners who came to confess like that. “I just don’t know if I should confess these things outside of the confessional.”

He made a face and waved his hand as if to say it was no big deal. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

There was something charming about how carefree and flippant the man was, but you still hesitated for a second. “I don’t even know who you are, Father.”

“Max Phillips. I just started training here.”

Well, that explained his lack of the professionalism and seriousness you were used to. You opened your mouth to confess since he was a priest or would soon be one, but you shook your head and looked down shyly. “I don’t know…”

A finger under your chin gently nudged your head up until you were looking into Max’s eyes, your heart picking up speed again. “You’re safe with me. Go ahead.”

There was just something about him that made you feel all warm inside, and you nodded for so long it was almost stupid before you remembered that you were supposed to be confessing.

“I’ve been having a lot of impure thoughts lately. It just seems like everything is driving me crazy and then I…” You faltered as the real thing you wanted to confess to danced on the tip of your tongue.

Max had been looking at the way your dress hugged your tits as he listened, raising his eyes to your face when you stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re very young to be a priest.” You started to turn away because talking about something like this to a man who looked like that was not stopping your thoughts from heading in the direction they tended to lately. “And you’re different. Shouldn’t we be in the confessional?”

“Hey, listen, how about we...make a deal? You confess, and I can tell you how I ended up here.” He just really wanted to know what had you so ashamed like this, what could possibly make you squirm like you were right then.

You considered it for a second before nodding, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been masturbating. I start thinking, and then I start feeling these sensations, and before I know it, I’m touching myself.”

He nodded along in understanding like the thought of you touching yourself didn’t make his pants a little tighter. “I see.”

“I know it’s wrong.” You dropped your head into your hands, but were only able to wallow for a few seconds. The priest grabbed onto your hands and grasped them in his supportively, making you look up at him.

“You wanna hear why I became a priest?” He smiled at your slight nod. “I was always a little bit of a...troublemaker. But I guess the last time was just the straw that broke the camel’s back for my parents…”

“What did you do?” you asked with concern; the way he sighed made it seem like he did something terrible, like hurt someone or do some kind of dangerous drug.

“See, there was this girl I liked. I invited her over to my house.” He knew exactly what he was doing with this story, noting every little hint of your untapped desire in the way you leaned closer and your blinking slowed. “When my parents walked in to find me with my head under her skirt, slowly thrusting my tongue in and out of her, I guess it was too much.”

His words dripped with sensuality and you would have fallen right off the pew were it not for your grip tightening on his hands. He was so beautiful. You pressed your thighs together and just stared at him, your lips parting slightly like you wanted to say something or maybe even kiss him.

But then he leaned back and shrugged, going right back to his previous nonchalance. “So they sent me to seminary a few years ago and I was just accepted by this church.”

“Oh.” You nodded, trying to pretend that his story hadn’t affected you that much. It seemed like he was just telling a story and your horny brain had just read too much into it.

“You know sexuality isn’t bad, right? Rubbing one out is a biological response to release a little...tension.” He released your hands to break contact with you, noticing the way you fell forward just a little as he leaned against the back of the pew.

“The bible says—”

“The bible’s been translated a billion times and taken out of context a billion more. Trust me, there’s nothing wrong with releasing a little tension.” He tilted his head, pursing his lips as he decided to push you a bit. “There’s nothing wrong with you being turned on by the idea of me putting my head under your dress right now.”

You were nodding along as you considered his words, but then your eyes nearly doubled in size at his comment. “I—I don’t—”

“Now lying is a sin.” He reached out to tap you on the nose which made you blink rapidly in confusion. “Look at how tense you are. You’ve been denying yourself, haven’t you?”

“Well...I didn’t think it was right…” You were uncomfortable; not because he was upsetting you, but because you had been denying yourself and you were so turned on by his words that you wanted to do the very thing you came to confess.

“Why don’t you show me how you touch yourself?” He decided to be blunt. You seemed to enjoy it when he was.

“What? Me? Here?” Your reaction was almost comical, but his words still sent a jolt directly to your clit.

“Touch yourself. Yes, you. Right here.” He leaned forward to gently grasp your hand again, running his thumb along the back of it. “I’m a man of God. You’re safe with me if you need to release a little tension. I won’t tell a soul.”

“I…” You wet your lips, pressing your thighs even tighter together.

He kept his eyes on yours as he slowly guided your hand to the hem of your dress, pausing to see if you would stop him or protest. When you didn’t, he helped you pull the fabric up your thighs, glancing down when he saw a glimpse of bright fabric. “Blue lace, huh? I like it.”

All you did was stare into his eyes, letting him maneuver your hand underneath the practically sheer fabric. He pulled his hand out and just laid it on top of yours through the lace.

“Tell me your name.” He waited for you to stutter it out before repeating it, wrapping his lips around it sensually in a way no one ever had before. “I could moan that. Fuck, I’d like to hear you moan my name like a prayer.”

You couldn’t help yourself as your eyes fluttered shut and you began stroking over your clit, giving into the sensation that was begging you to touch yourself.

Max just kept his hand on top of yours, letting them move together, his eye flickering between your face and what you were doing between your legs. “Isn’t that better? What are you thinking about?”

“Your tongue.” You were too turned on to care, letting out a little moan when you opened your eyes and saw the way he was staring at you.

“And I didn’t even tell you the whole story!” He laughed, bringing his free hand down to playfully slap your thigh. “I bet you’d like to know what I did when my parents and their friends walked in, huh? Go ahead, ask me.”

“What did...what did you do?” You tried your best to focus on him, now letting him control the movements of your hand through your panties.

He shifted a bit so he could lean in closer to you, his eyes roaming from your face, down your neck, over your breasts, until they landed between your legs. “I fucked my tongue into her until she came all over herself in front of everyone.”

The whine you let out was exactly what he wanted and he chuckled when you tried to move your hand faster than he was allowing.

“Patience is a virtue. Do you want to feel my tongue?” He raised an eyebrow when you didn’t answer him at first, making you grind your fingers against your clit a little harder. “It’s okay to say yes.”

“Yes,” you gasped out and he smirked, pulling his hand away and taking hold of your wrist to make you stop touching yourself.

“Now, I know you learned patience. You’re such a stickler for rules, aren’t you?” He pulled your hand up to kiss your glistening fingers, letting his tongue poke out to kitten lick them every so often. “I want you to stand up for me. Take off your panties, go up and put them on the altar, then come back here. You’re gonna stand in front of me and take off your dress.”

Your chest was rising and falling slowly from your deep, steady breaths. You’d come to confess your sins, but it didn’t feel like a sin as you stood up and stepped out of your underwear.

You didn’t even realize how easily you were doing it until you’d approached the altar and set the bit of lace on it, turning around to make your way back to Max.

He was leaning back in the pew with his legs open wide, the bulge in his pants obvious when you came to practically stand between his knees.

You hesitated when your fingers came to the hem of your dress, realizing that you were going to be naked in front of this practical stranger in the middle of a church. It was both enticing and terrifying.

“Let me see. I’ve been staring at your tits since you walked in anyway.” He said it so casually it was somehow almost sexier than if he’d been flirtatious.

Hesitating for just a moment longer, you pulled your dress off before you could convince yourself not to, leaving yourself entirely bare. Max’s eyes darkened as he slowly looked over every visible inch of you.

You grew nervous when he didn’t say anything, shifting on your feet and biting your lip as you stared at the floor.

When he was still silent, you slowly looked up at him, fearing a look of disgust.

But you found him staring right at you with eyes full of lust and he slowly said, “I’d abandon the church for that.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say to something like that, just letting out a shaky breath as you felt yourself grow wetter.

“Sit down. Open your legs wide.” He stood up, waiting for you to take his place on the pew before he knelt between your legs. “Has anyone ever done this before?”

“No, Father. I only had sex once, when I was a teenager...and it wasn’t really good.” Your answer seemed to please him, but he didn’t comment on it.

“Call me Max,” he said simply, then leaned forward and started running his tongue along your folds.

Just feeling his tongue between your legs had you squirming and gasping, but he wasn’t paying attention to your clit yet. He’d dip his tongue right near it before skipping over it, pressing teasing little kisses against you.

Having never been eaten out before, you didn’t think to rush him or beg him; you were oversensitized from a lack of proper touch, so this was doing a lot for you.

He decided to be nice mostly for the purpose of rocking your world, and he started to flick at your clit with the tip of his tongue.

That had your hips lifting off the pew, a cry leaving your lips as he started tracing little circles over the sensitive area. “Oh, fuck, Max…”

He took hold of your thighs to pin you back down to the seat, pressing his tongue flat against you and dragging it slowly up over your clit. The movement had your jaw dropping open in pure ecstasy and the ensuing vibrations from his soft chuckle made you release a moan.

You’d never felt anything so amazing in your entire life even when you would give in and touch yourself, and you couldn’t believe how long you’d gone without feeling something this wonderful.

“Would you use your tongue inside me? Like the girl?” Your request earned you another slap to the thigh as Max pulled away, his lips shining.

“I gotta say, you know your manners!” He grinned, keeping his eyes on you as he leaned down and slowly began fucking into you with his tongue.

You were silent at first as the new sensation took over, before you let out a whine and started breathing a little shakily. “Oh, God!”

Max mumbled a reminder of what you could call him into your cunt, thrusting his tongue a little faster and nudging his nose against your clit.

He kept going at it until he felt your walls starting to flutter around his tongue and he pulled back, smirking at the almost hurt look on your face.

“You wanna see what good sex is like?” He cupped your face when you nodded, moving to kiss you passionately.

You kissed him back eagerly and stared at him dreamily as he pulled you to your feet, letting him turn you around. He guided you to bend over with your hands gripping the back of the pew, seeing that you were steady before he pulled back to admire your ass.

He ran a hand over the soft skin, undoing his pants with the other as he kept trailing down until he was stroking through your slit. “It hurt the first time, huh?”

“Yeah, and he...released his seed after a couple thrusts then left…” You admitted this with a bit of shame, pressing your fingers into the wood.

“Came. He came after a couple thrusts.” Your gentle way of putting it made him smirk, but he let out a moan when he pressed his tip to your wet folds. “This one’s not gonna hurt and you can bet your sweet ass that you’re gonna come first.”

“He came,” you repeated, eyes fluttering shut with a moan at the feeling of him starting to push into you; there was some pressure, but he was right about it not hurting like the other time.

“God, you’re tight…” He practically growled, going slow so you could adjust to the way he was stretching you open.

You folded your arms on the back of the pew and laid your head on them, breathing deeply as he pushed himself inside you as far as he could. He moved one hand to your right hip and the other stroked up your back.

“How’s that?” Your answer was a pitiful, little groan so he thrust his hips a little. “Come on. Use your words.”

“Good, but I feel like I want you to move…” It was so nice to feel full and you wanted friction to go with it.

“Then get back up.”

You forced yourself back up onto your hands and turned your head to look at him over your shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow, watching your eyes darken as he pulled out before quickly thrusting back into you. It was hard enough that you let out a yelp and were rocked forward a bit, having to tighten your grip on the pew so you didn’t face plant on it.

“Oh, God!” You cried, arching back into him.

“Okay, fine, you can call me that and Max.” He rolled his eyes playfully as he found a steady pace against you, loving the way you practically bounced with each thrust.

You were too gone to even acknowledge what he said, and he really didn’t mind since that meant he was turning you on. He slid a hand underneath you so he could rub at your clit, angling his thrusts to stroke over your G spot.

He was trying to keep it together, but you were sexy, and so wet, and so fucking into it that he couldn’t help the noises you were pulling out of him; every whine, every moan, was worth being able to fuck into your tight, wet pussy in the middle of the fucking church.

He could feel your walls fluttering around his cock already since you were so wound up in general and worked up from his mouth, and like hell he was gonna deny you this time.

The thought of you squeezing down on his cock encouraged him to move faster, the sound of his hips slapping into your ass echoing through the sanctuary.

“Max! I’m—I’m—” Your orgasm was too powerful for you to even warn him about, only able to let out a cry as you clenched tight around him.

“Holy shit.” He hissed at the way your cunt gripped him like a fucking vice, the way he felt you squirt all over yourself and his dick.

He could feel it dripping down your thighs and his, spurring him on further as he easily thrust into you.

The sound of your wet cunt filling the room was even better and he let himself get completely lost in you, grunting and whining at how good you felt.

“Oh, God. Oh, God!” Maybe he was doing that part a bit on purpose, but he had no choice but to let his hips lose their rhythm as he just focused on seeking out his orgasm. “Fuck. Tell me where to come, now.”

You didn’t answer at first as you were still coming down from your orgasm. He quickly started rubbing your sensitive clit again to grab your attention and you gasped, “Inside me, please.”

He wanted to fall to his knees and fucking worship you for that, leaning down to press a kiss between your shoulder blades before he stood up to drive into you desperately. It only took a few more thrusts before he was shoving himself into you as deeply as he could, letting out a loud, long groan as he spilled his load into you.

The two of you stayed like that for a second, both panting, both with your eyes shut tightly.

But Max still wanted to fall to his knees in worship.

He regrettably pulled out of you and moved to kneel down, holding onto your ass to keep you still as he leaned in, immediately lapping the mixture of his and your cum from your cunt.

You let out a whimper so pretty that he could’ve gotten hard again if it was possible. He just focused on cleaning you up with his tongue, licking into your cunt until he was satisfied with his work.

He enjoyed a good eyeful of your pussy and ass and decided he wanted to inspect you more in the future, moving to his feet.

“Your sins are absolved.” His words were followed by a slap to your ass before he tucked himself back into his pants.

You moaned and stood up fully, turning to see that he was holding your dress out to you. Part of you wanted to ask if that was it, craving more despite how much he’d just offered you, but you stayed silent and put your dress back on.

You walked up to the altar when he just stared at you, grabbing your panties off and moving to step into them. There was a tap on your shoulder before you could and you turned to face Max, who was now holding a collection plate and grinning mischievously.

“We’re collecting if you want to help the church. I, for one, would love to put those on my face later and jack off.”

You gaped at him for a moment before slowly smiling and laughing softly, dropping the lace into the collection plate. “I should probably go…”

He nodded, but put his free hand on the side of your face and guided you into a deep kiss, licking into your mouth with remnants of cum on his tongue. It made you moan and he was honestly fucking surprised you didn’t have your own cult of people begging to have you.

“Come back. Just ask for me.” He smirked at your dazed nod and kissed you again before slapping your ass, nudging you up the aisle.

You walked to the door with a bit of a gap between your thighs, finding that the door didn’t seem as heavy as before. You glanced at him over your shoulder before walking out and letting the oak shut behind you.

Max just smirked to himself and chuckled, both satisfied and proud. He looked to the side of the room when he heard a creak, smile not faltering in the slightest even as an older, enraged-looking priest stepped out of the confessional booth. “Hey, pops.”

“Father Phillips, this is unacceptable.” He was red in the face from anger or perhaps something else.

“Is that a crucifix in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Max’s jovial expression did twitch a little bit when the priest let out a growl, and he slowly slid back a step and took your underwear out of the collection plate. “She needed me, buddy! What was I supposed to do, let her walk around all wound up?”

“You weren’t supposed to fornicate with a parishioner in the middle of the fuck—” He immediately stopped his crass words when the other side of the confessional opened and out stepped a small, elderly woman.

Max had honestly forgotten she was in there, but raised his eyebrows in surprise when he noticed the way she was eyeing him.

It was probably the wink he sent her that took him from probably exiled to definitely exiled, based on the way the head priest cried,

“Get out!”

#max phillips x reader #max phillips imagine #max phillips fic #bloodsucking bastards imagine

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rumblelibrary · 3 years

Text

The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and sex. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: The story is placed between season 1 and season 2. Thank you for everyone that encouraged me to keep going. I have to wait for my local drop of serotonin to get fully Laszloed to go through this.

Lyra’s Contellation, Illustration taken from Uranographia by Johann Bode

Routine. Routine is comfort. Habit stabilises the character.

If you follow a routine, you won’t ever be victim of imprudence, of evil jokes of fate. The stability earned through calculated and repeated actions brings a sense of fulfilment that forbids other thoughts to come bashing in, breaking rules, breaking hopes that a solid scheduled routine forbids to have. I take my time to begin this week, I planned the things to do, the next steps for the case, the people to meet, the resources I am allowed to contemplate. I feel good, I feel back to myself and the events of the weekend seem far from me and my own perception. I probably got ahead of myself, carried by some instinctual though and random rush of emotion, to be always in contact with the same people and mostly kids probably doesn’t help my stance in the presence of other adults. I feel silly now reading back the last page, I felt tempted to tear it off, but to keep it there should be a small memento of not losing my temper so easily. I read it over and over and I know I am not as charmed as I thought I was. I am just lonely. I have always been and it is normal to face ups and downs even for a man of my age who is more accustomed to it. To desire a partner is a natural instinct, to find somebody attractive is meant by nature, it is the body calling for the natural fulfilment of the reason we are put on this very Earth. But even in a state of nature my own condition would be forbidding me to be part of the natural process of growing my own kind. I am the type of male that would be excluded because of his impossibility to give the protection to the pack, therefore it is just more reasonable to me to adapt to my condition. No matter what my Potentia generandi might be (the ability to procreate).

With all the smugness that characterises him, Niki showed off that he passed my challenge. But to be really of an help to his antics I didn’t show any kind of surprise. I treated him like he did the bare minimum, like he didn’t prove me any kind of superiority. He has a natural attitude toward challenging the figure of power, he is trying to overpower me, but I won’t satisfy his need. I have noticed he has a very technical brain, he finds ways to solve problems in ingenious way and not by throwing himself into the task. I proceeded giving him to work on a clock, an old broken one we had in the institute, one of the kids hit it with a ball years ago and nobody ever worked on repairing it. I gave him the clock, a couple of screwdrivers and a book. He called me a number of German names I won’t transcribe, but it gave me a certain amount of satisfaction. If my intuitions are right, I am sure the clock will be repaired by next week.

Analysis of the victim’s body through John’s eyes. The drawings and sketches are as detailed as I requested, all of this thanks to you joining him. I deal with art critic section, I am used to notice these things. You assure me, you play yourself low and I wonder why, nevertheless you did notice things neither John or I did, which pleased me. It fooled me, distracted me from my purpose to not give in to your witchery, as I leaned closer watching your pale hand move across the pages tracing this or that line, showing how this must be done with the killer on this side and not that side, with words so deliciously elaborate, your way of composing your speech is compelling, you could sell the drawing of a kid like it was a Botticelli. I noticed the shape of your hands, the way you move them, I wonder if you play an instrument, or played, some habits just stick with you through life. I focused on taking notes, your ideas and instructions giving me a new point of view, a new stimulus. What if that is the only way the killer can communicate? Or what if this is the communication that works for him? Could our killer be mute or deaf? Or that’s how society made him feel? This man, or woman, needs a listener and I am afraid that now, since he got our attention and the public’s, he won’t stop. Another killing could be just as close.

Scheduled: meeting with the parents of Alex Garel for new admission, Monday next week at 11 am. Love at first is a fetish and like all fetishes it is based onto an object that hides a deeper meaning, like gloves mean hands, to love at first sight means to see somebody that you think, and think only, to have the chance to share not only a sensual kind of bond, but an intellectual. Love at first sight is based onto not knowing someone well enough, but having the time to idealise most of that someone. I can see why I feel this attraction, using a particular phrase that Sara often mutters when investigating: you tick all the boxes. I know you do, your beauty is everything but conventional, you’re the kind of face that painters would paint and musicians would write hymns about, but any animal on the street would never be allowed to see. You have the grace of the body and the fire in the eyes, and then you speak. When you speak, I realise, you could bring the world to its knees. Also, you never speak out of context, and if you do it is to ease somebody’s position. You do it often with John or with Stevie, you say something really silly in order to put them back to a place of comfort. Some women would call it self deprecating, but I see that you only pick wisely your fights and your wins. You don’t need to earn your peace and quiet by neglecting, but by lifting up the others. I wonder if you do it with me too, if your silences are just you allowing me to be in a better place while instead your judgment is tearing me apart. I shouldn’t care, but I keep wondering, sometimes I take my time to answer you, I analyse every shade, every peculiarity of your question, I am looking for sarcasm, for a condescending voice, for something to hang on and bare you open. To prove myself you’re not perfect. But deep down I know that you do, you judge me and you do well.

Mother never said so. That’s what one of the girls in my care said today. Ursula. She is tough. Skin as thick as an alligator and the tendency to pull her own hair at night or when under a massive amount of stress, enuresis alongside erratic episodes of mutism. I tried the soft approach, it didn’t work. She is too accustomed to be indulged. Therefore today I pushed her a bit overboard, I teased her over opinions on the female body, the female role, she is only 12, but she is soon to bleed, she knows, I can tell from the way she clenches to her skirts, from the way she looks at me as a threatening figure. I am the incarnation of danger to her. Under her steady silence, I pushed a bit more, asking how her mother taught her to be nice and submissive. Does her mother tells her she is going to be a good wife? The phrase, which I reported at the top of the page, surprised me. What is her mother teaching to her then? What closed her so much, locked her soul away, making a small bird like this choose the silence and the retirement of self inflicted pain over, what? Mankind? Or just Men? Is that even a curse? Should I cure her from a truth that her own mother whispered to her ear one night before bed and made a child decide that the world wasn’t a place to share her time with? Am I the man supposed to teach her that men are worth of trust? In the eyes of modern society, who measures its own value over the modesty of the women, she would be a champion, but at what price? I can’t in any way let her parents bring her back home after our recent meetings. Nevertheless, I have to make up my own mind on how to give her troubled soul ease without making her believe in fables. I, as a man, regard myself not worth of any of the trust they expect me to teach her.

In all of my years practicing with people’s feelings and traumas, I challenged myself to find those same traumas within my own mind. It is a tricky game, terrible, anguishing at times. But it straightens me, the pain of others, the pain of kids mostly, so unadulterated and pure, breaks the curtain between me and the lies that I often surround myself with. Pain is made of method, you can open it up, you can scrutinise it, part it piece by piece dividing it in sectors and, partitions, centre part, side part, heart of the problem. Pain is reliable. Happiness is not. It is random, cruelly sudden, unexpected, it washes over you in such deflecting way only to leave you alone a moment after ashamed and alone. I saw you again today. You were in a table full of what I could only guess as your former university colleagues, I saw pain in you, not heavy but constant. Annoyance, a bit of sadness. Your head titling on side and your eyes drifting on the left, you’re imagining something away from them. A place? An object? Or maybe someone? Your hands play circles at the bottom of the flute of your drink like kids do, your smile only one sided. I don’t see you speak at all, only listen. What could keep your voice down? I almost gulped down my own breath as you looked up and I realised how I must have looked. I was having lunch on my own, in a very private table and even entertaining myself with a newspaper on the side. I wish you didn’t, but you came over, your eyes shining. Did I save you? Or maybe I was just a good excuse to leave that painful meeting behind. Don’t be so nice to me, it is not healthy. Don’t look at me like you expect anything more from me than me listening. I won’t smile back at you, I won’t give you care, attentions or thought. I won’t lean for your perfume, I won’t obsess over that dress you wore, that pin that adorned your neckline keeping your undershirt in place, a silver robin, I remember. I won’t remember the number of the buttons on the side of your glove, three. I won’t observe the little moles just under your ear. A small constellation, I later realised, hidden between your ear and the beginning of your neck. I don’t need to check in my books. It is a constellation. It is Lyra. Why? Why you must be like this? Are you the Lyra? Are you the instrument of Orpheus come to me to drag me out of Hell? The Tartarus holds my soul and you should know already, I am not worth the quarter part of Eurydice to be saved and she never came back anyway. I won’t be now recollecting the way your teeth sunk in the inner side of your cheek when you apologised for the annoyance. You apologised twice, I ignored you both times with a raised hand to request peace and silence. I am not letting you in.

Reserved: Tickets for Wednesday’s evening Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi. The guest female lead promises a beautiful show.

Leonardo, as I am learning through Paul Valery essay, is who I would define as a figure of projective identification of the Subject or, to better explain it, of the knowledge of the Subject that formed and grew through the use of sketches in the experience of the Artist. I have always thought that the finest form of art was the representation of knowledge duly undressed by any personal identification. Leonardo, instead, proceeded to represent the figure through the essence of the artist, a representation technically unlimited on objects and symbols and that keep expressing the transformation and development of Leonardo’s own being.Some artists are testimony of the destruction of the world, of the loss of eternal beauty over decadence. And then you have Leonardo, who creates an art that is the gravity of the world’s system, of the nature, of thoughts and abstractions. I wonder if our killer does the same, if the way they presents the victim through their own personal view, if what we can read there it is their stories, their pains, their needs. Their happiness and troubles. What are they trying to tell me? I need to know, I need to know to save a life, of course, but I also need to know to be able to sleep at night. Hair, hair are the epitome of femininity in any era. I keep studying Ursula and her habit to pull the. I took notes on it: she picks them by the bottom, slowly separates them until she gains an amount her mind defines satisfactory and then she rolls her finger and pulls, she does it until her finger is empty and there are no hair left. I find her process incredibly interesting. In men’s case the display of physical attributes is not as vital, a beard can be appreciated but does not modify the power of seduction of a grown man. On the contrary, for women hair are a vital part of their attractiveness toward the opposite sex, society sees the hair of a woman as part of their vital characteristics, also in ancient times for a woman to cut her hair or have her hair cut was a sign of deep separation from the society. Only heroines or whores wore that mark and the association of the two is so rooted into the way society always parted the role of a woman in two that it is nauseating to think of. I am still fearing to let Ursula go away, the repulsion that she is showing toward her own body makes it difficult even for me to crack her shell open as a man, but my deepest worry is when that hate will take a scarier and deeper tool on her. How a girl with such a fear of what her body can do, like sex or pregnancy, can endure in the future to have an husband? Or even to be courted by anyone?

John is helpless and I admire him for that. He doesn’t hide it, he just is. He is vulnerable and exposed, he is an open well bursting with doubts and feelings and troubled waters. He is genuine in a way I could never be. Maybe that’s why I despise even more him talking about you, how he sees you every morning, how you greet everybody, how you behave even with interns, how you like your coffee. Your talents, your wits, how you said this and acted like that and reasoned through him. How you forbid him to drink even when he felt tempted. How you stayed late over to help him collect all the informations I requested him to get. To him. Not to you. The evil demon of envy scratching in the back of my head screaming like a siren out in the sea, he demands to be heard, he demands to be allowed a part in this game. I won’t allow him that. I won’t allow myself any of that. This is a pure game of chess, if I give in a pawn now, I will lose my knight, and I know it. I advice him to not be so closed minded when he praises you, only to get surprised by the charms of a natural logical mind. I find a way to hurt him, he is an easy target, I look at him as his eyebrows twitch and he summons his patience on me. He lost the plot about you already, his bruised pride taking over. You won’t come into my life.

“Un dì, felice, eterea, mi balenaste innante, e da quel dì tremante vissi d'ignoto amor.” (“On a day, happy and ethereal, you appeared in front of me and from that day, trembling, I lived on an unknown love”)

The words of Alfredo in the first act of the Traviata keep running through me, a chant that won’t let me go, almost painful. The Opera House, that was my hiding place, a place where in plain sight I could let out myself, unleash. The catharsis of the characters involved running through me, I didn’t need anything but their voices and those musical instruments to let out my fears, doubts and anger. When Alfredo came to the scene tonight, the lights were strong and slightly pinkish, the performer bursting out of the seams with passion. My eyes diverted only to see you there. Alone. Those blinding lights gave you the the radiance of a vision singing the notes of greek myths and heroes, that dark blue evening clothing rang through my eyes like it was a bright yellow, the little shiny details that adorned you so clear against the heavy lighting to look like transparent pieces of water collected to adorn your beauty. I wasn’t me, but Alfredo, and I was helpless against you sitting so far and yet too close from me. I was naked in front of thousands. I am aware of the effect you have on me and our last conversation was barely regarded as one. This is infatuation, this is the pure work of a lonely mind and not something worth of any of all the words that I am dissipating here. Yet. I saw you cry at the climax of the opera, Violetta, the protagonist, heartbroken falling on stage consumed by pain and regret for her lost love and ultimate sacrifice. Your eyes shone as you tried to hide the tears and collect yourself. Through my binoculars, I saw your throat tremble and gulp down something more than just a sigh of pain. Your jaw clenched, your gloved hand moves to hide your shaking lips. I reckon, I have never seen such sad lips look more inviting. You look at the wall on your side breathing through your nose and not even that can save you by the strength of the voice of the soprano. You’re defeated and so you brought a fine silk handkerchief to your eyes, your shoulders bent inward in self defence. The Opera won. It won you like it always wins me. I wonder if you felt like this because of a past lover, somebody that broke your heart and made you feel wrong in any way. And because of that little wonder it is even more clear to me why I am a man worth of no trust. Because for a moment, I know, I wished to be the one that broke your heart. That gave you just the pain you’re inflicting on me so mercilessly by offering intoxicating kindness and beauty. To own your thoughts, tears and shame. To be the one man you have to look away from. I want to own all of that and, maybe, I will be freed of you the day you’ll be just another human being that hates Dr Laszlo Kreizler.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone

Let me know if you want to get tagged too <3

#the diary of doctor laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler imagine #dr laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler headcanons #thealienist #the alienist fanfic #the alienist fanfiction

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hazeltiberiuslee · 3 years

Text

Is My Life of Value? (Noelle & Zhongli Fanfic)

Noelle paused as she reached out for the cup of water on the counter. Dejected at the thoughts consuming her mind, she gripped the air tightly before lowering her hand.

As she glimpsed at the waters reflection, she saw her distraught expression looking back at her.

This was her eighth time taking the exam to become a knight of Favonius, and again, she had failed it. This time, Jean had come up to her to explain why she had failed.

“Though you have all the traits of a wonderful knight Noelle, you are a tad too reckless when it comes to yourself. A knight must treasure themselves, and value their own lives while aiding others. I wish for you to take this time to truly think about the value of your life, and not just everyone else’s. You’re special too, I only wish you could see that.” Jean said.

Noelle held her head as she kept thinking about it. Was she really that reckless? She only wished to give her all when it came to her aspirations. She didn’t think that was a bad thing.

But that had been exactly what kept her back from becoming a knight.

She sighed before heading outside of the shed to gaze at the sunset dipping lower into Teyvat. Gripping both her hands anxiously, she desperately looked around in vain to see if there was anyone in need of her help. Straining her ears, she tried to hear any horses footsteps, or a cry for help that she can assist with. But no one uttered her name, only the sounds of snoring from a boar who laid near a tree.

Shoulders drooping, she sighed deeply and decided that maybe she needed a walk to clear her head.

As the light from the sun diminished, the stars took its place to guide Noelle in her walk. Dandelions wavered in the air with its luminous blue glow, and Noelle finally stopped at the end of a giant cliff.

“Acting grand master Jean had told me to take some time off to rest and figure things out. I should do as she says since it is her order, however…” Breathing in another heavy sigh, Noelle sat down at the edge and let the wind rustle gently past her cheeks.

Her perfect posture made her sit upright, hands automatically folding itself on top of each other, neatly resting above her lap. The breathtaking view of Mondstadt filled her eyes as her mind wandered.

Did anyone call her name in hopes that she would arrive? Did someone feel an ache of disappointment, as she did, that she was no longer available to help them in their moment of need?

“…It is…quite lonely when I’m not doing my duties within Mondstadt.” she whispered.

She missed the feeling of being needed. Being wanted.

“Am I naive in thinking that chasing after your dreams without stopping is the right way to go?” She wondered out loud.

Keep your eyes on your goal and never stop working to get it. If you slack off, you’re being lazy. Never stop racing towards your dreams. Those had been the messages that came through while growing up as a child.

Is it possible those messages have been always wrong? She thought.

“Sigh…”

Closing her eyes, Noelle let herself go and flopped to the ground. The grass tickled the sides of her face as she listening to the rustling of the trees. All of it had somehow started to calm her raging thoughts.

It had been years since she rested like this. The only time she had done so was before her dreams ignited within her chest, as a child to be a knight. Ever since then, she had read hundreds of books about knights and their moral code.

Every time she read about them, the words had fanned the flames of her passion higher than it did before.

As her consciousness started fading, she felt a tug deep within her guiding her to another direction.

Looking around the dream, Noelle heard a sigh, and a slight whisper. She didn’t understand the context of the words, though the voice sounded oddly familiar.

“That old blockhead sure likes to put me to work even though there’s no wine to be exchanged for it.” It muttered.

‘Huh?’ Noelle voiced.

“Ah well, it’s not much work anyway. Well then, have a good talk Noelle! And next time, drink some wine with your friends! Wouldn’t want you to end up the same as that workaholic.” It sang, before a flash of light appeared and faded.

Out of habit Noelle shielded her eyes and blinked rapidly, only to find her breath escaping her.

‘Wow.’ She exclaimed.

All around her she saw pools of water and a low, wide tree centered on the small patch of land that she was standing on top of. Near her, a stone table stood with ceramic cups filled with herbal tea.

“Come child.” A voice called out.

Gasping in surprise, she snapped her head to look at the source of the voice and saw a tall gentleman with long brown hair and amber eyes. He gave a small smile and gestured her to sit.

For some reason, she found herself easily doing so.

In normal instances, she would have refused and instead asked if he required assistance before serving up some snacks.

He chuckled as if he knew what was going through her mind.

“I heard that the exam didn’t go quite as you wished.” he stated.

A pout began to form as Noelle’s lips puckered out. ‘It didn’t go well at all! Though I got everything right.’ She slumped in her seat.

‘From the physical aspects to the written parts, I’m sure I aced everything! But… I failed because master Jean said I didn’t care for my life well enough. But isn’t knights supposed to be able to put their lives on the line anyway to serve?’ She moped, hanging her head low.

A part of her was dumbfounded that she was suddenly acting like this but she couldn’t stop revealing her true feelings to the stranger. It was quite baffling.

The stranger didn’t seem to mind though as he smiled and gave a hearty chuckle.

“You have a strong sense of duty and loyalty to Mondstadt. That is what I quite liked about you, which is why I gifted you your vision.” he said nonchalantly. Bringing the cup close to his lips, he breathed in the scent of hot green tea.

Under normal circumstances, Noelle would have opened her eyes wide in shock at the revelation that the person in front of her was the Geo Archon. But whether it was the fact that they were meeting in a dream or not, she remained calm, accepting the situation easily.

Picking up her own cup, she followed Morax and breathed in the tea before drinking it. The warm taste of green tea penetrated her being and strangely put her in a calmer mood despite her misgivings.

While staring at the tea’s reflection, she found that the knots holding her complicated emotions tightly in a knot were slowly unwinding itself.

‘I don’t understand… Why is my life important if others may benefit from my actions, especially if Mondstadt finds itself in dire need of my assistance? As long as I am okay with it, is it not fine to continue the way it is?’ She pondered.

There was a moment of silence as Morax stirred his cup. He closed his eyes before lifting his arm. The air behind him shimmered before revealing the knights of Favonius headquarters.

In there, Jean and Kaeya were in a hushed discussion with each other. Jean’s face was furrowed with concern while Kaeya had his arms crossed but tried his best to comfort the acting grand master.

“She’s going to be fine Jean. The doctor said she will live, and that Noelle didn’t suffer from frostbite. Just need a few days rest and she’ll be back up ready to take on the world as always.” Kaeya reassured. He flashed her a charming smile but a corner of it twitched.

That didn’t escape Jean’s eyes and she just sighed with worry. She didn’t want to be acting like this but she had no one else to express her concerns to.

“She took on a reckless mission all by herself. What made her think that it was okay to do this without telling us?! Noelle barely had enough water and food as she went up into the mountains, and continued on even though her armor iced over after discovering the missing man.” She sighed.

Rubbing her face with both hands, Jean felt the stress building back up at the memory of Noelle nearly collapsing in front of Mondstadt gates. Jean had been making her rounds with Lisa when a guard yelled out in shock. Everyone had turned around to look expecting an attack, but found Noelle in the distance pushing herself to carry the man back through Mondstadt walls.

Everyone had ran to help her but it was as if Noelle couldn’t see them. Her eyes hazy and breathing haggard, she kept muttering that she’ll make sure that they both arrive home safe. For the man to hold on for his family. That it will be warm soon. She kept repeating those lines over and over, and those around her found it hard to make Noelle let go of the man on her back.

Kaeya suddenly stepped in and grasped Noelle by the shoulders before leaning in. “Welcome back. You did well Noelle, thank you for your services. Because of you, both you and Nimrod will live to see another day. Now let go of him, we will take care of the rest.” he said.

Transfixed on the voice speaking to her, Noelle lost grip of Nimrod and like a puppet with their strings cut, collapsed into his arms.

Jean felt thankful for Kaeya though she wondered how he knew that’d work.

The scene changed, and an image of Noelle unconscious on a patient bed appeared. Klee was looking concerned at how red Noelle was. Though red was her favorite color, she didn’t like it on Noelle like this.

Rummaging through her bag, Klee happily brought out a slightly crisp fish. She placed it on a plate that she brought out separately and left it on a counter before sitting up on the hospital chair.

“You need to get better so that we can go get some more fish together okay? Don’t tell master Jean, but I have the perfect spot to go to so that we can get a fresh meal! Fish is the just the best!” Klee exclaimed loudly.

There was no response from Noelle as Klee nestled her head onto the bed next to Noelle’s hand. Klee gently grasped the unconscious maid’s hand as she closed her eyes.

“Wake up soon so that we can together. I’ll even stay inside just for you, so that we can go together later. So please, wake up soon.” Klee whispered.

And with that the images from the past ended. Noelle stared stunned in silence. The Geo Archon had brought up a past incident and the reminder that she had worried people stung her conscience.

“You wish to charge in without rest and regard to your own life. As heroic as that may sound, it is not the way a knight should live.”

Morax set down his cup and looked into Noelle’s wavering eyes.

“Were it any of them marching through the dangerous winters of Dragonspine, would you also not fret for their lives?” he questioned. Noelle’s face flushed with guilt as she started understanding.

“Though there will always be situations where one puts their lives at risk for the safety of others, it is not ideal to completely disregard it.”

Bringing the cup to his lips once again, Morax sipped on the remainder of the tea.

“A knight is a citizen of their country. And what good country would want to needlessly throw away the lives of their citizens?”

Refilling his cup, Morax watched as Noelle looked down once again. A kind smile formed on his face.

“It is good to have the spirit of a knight, however, do not forget that you are a individual. Your life isn’t just yours once you build connections as well. There will be those that grieve for you, and those who will happily share their moments in life with you.”

He got up and stopped in front of Noelle. Reaching out, Morax patted her head tenderly like a father would with their daughter.

“Do take care to enjoy those moments yourself, and to share your times of suffering as well. Enjoy life, and you will shine like gold in the memories of both yourself and others.”

Closing his eyes he gave one last smile. “Now awaken and go home.”

Authors note:

Please like and subscribe! This is from my archiveofourown account as well https://archiveofourown.org/works/34323085

You can find more fanfics on my archive account as well, under HazelTiberiusLee. Have a nice one! <3

#genshin impact #zhongli #genshin fanfic #noelle #kaeya #klee #jean #morax #geo archon #daughter #father #lifepurpose #meaning of life #knight #knight of favonius #maid #heartwarming #fluff

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starcloud-nova · 3 years

Note

Favorite fics by some of your buddies on Tumblr and Discord?

God nonnie. You fucked up big time. You underestimated just how hard I can appreciate my friends. I’d like to formally apologize for how long and in-depth this got, but I would pick a stopping point and then go ‘oh! but i cant leave out so-and-so’ and then this got mega out of hand.

Organized by author and not genre! And if I didn’t include any of your works (or I did and it was not the one you wanted), please, don’t take it personally. I am trusting everyone who comes across this post to read the tags themselves, but for two of the fics I have left TWs in front of them.

Cassia’s fics:

Internet Enemies by @cassiopeia721 (x)

At school, Midoriya Izuku is ignored at best. At home, he's raised by a single mother who seems to be always taking night shifts, and who he communicates with almost exclusively through notes on lunch boxes and texts lying about his location. As such, Midoriya Izuku turns to the internet— or more specifically, an All Might fan server on discord— for companionship. Like most things in his life, it goes wrong eventually. It just takes longer than usual.

hypnic jump

Izuku finds himself somewhere he doesn't recognize in an oversized green jumpsuit with a hero he's never seen at his back. He's pretty sure he's dreaming, and subsequent events only solidify that theory into rock-solid certainty.

Paradigm Shift (Harry Potter)

Harry undergoes a paradigm shift at the beginning of his fifth year. (Slytherin Harry)

~~~

Kestrel’s fics:

Compass by @autisticmidoriyas (x)

Midoriya Izuku never had the chance to become a hero—or even to grow up. Fifteen years after his death, Akatani Izuku tries to save the life of a dying hero and in return receives a target painted on his back and a power humming in his bones.

All Might, Sir Nighteye, Ground Zero, Suneater, and Skyquake are left scrambling in the wake of Lemillion’s death to figure out who now holds One For All.

Intertwined with all this, the League of Villains’ war against Japan burns on. With the loss of Lemillion, the advantage is now theirs, and with the loss of One For All, victory is all-but-assured.

(What the villains don’t know is that One For All lives on in the blood of a boy who was always meant to be a hero.)

triskelion

A few seconds, and their lives—their life—is changed forever. Where three people used to exist, there is now only one.

While visiting the mall with their class, Izuku, Katsuki, and Shouto are the victims of someone whose quirk can fuse together objects … and people.

Permanently.

Facing down the fact that they may never be unfused, a long adjustment period lies ahead of them as they learn how to be themself and figure out where they fit into their families, their class, and their world.

the meaning of hope

One day, the smoke will reach its end. They hold out hope for that. Even with quirks, fires cannot burn forever. They will consume all their fuel, until there is nothing left, and they will wither and die.

~~~

Lilly’s fics:

Rise of the Rat Finks by Authoress_Lilly

“You're not in trouble Neito. You’ve been tapped to join The Rats.”

The boy blinks. “The what?”

Vlad opens up a folder and hands Monoma a flyer and a small pin in the shape of a rat. “It’s a sort of secret society here at UA.

Or: an excuse to put Monoma and Midoriya together in way too many words 😅

The Root to Villainy

Prompt: Izuku doesn't realize how fucked up his past was until Aizawa does an immersive class on villain origins.

Whoops?

~~~

Dance’s fics:

Never Take Your Problem Children To Costco by DanceInTheKitchen

“SECURE THE EGGS! I REPEAT SECURE THE EGGS!” Bakugou bellowed.

“YES SIR! AYE AYE SIR!” Izuku saluted.

Shouta is staring at his students, one of whom seems to be reenacting the Lion King with a carton of eggs while the other salutes him, and wonders. What the hell did he do in his past life to deserve this?? Past him must have committed some great sin, like putting sugar in his coffee, or being a dog person.

Or, Aizawa, Bakugou and Midoriya walk into a Costco.

grow as we go

The dorms were silent, but out here in the open air, she felt both isolated and free. Isolated from the world, but free from the responsibility crushing her, isolated from her friends and family, but free from judgement. Up here, with only the stars and Iida as company, Momo felt like she could breathe.

They sat next to each other in silence, watching the stars silently crawl their way across the sky. Iida doesn’t break the silence, but he also doesn’t leave. It’s a silent promise, to listen if she needs it, or to keep her company if she doesn’t want to speak. It’s comforting.

She’s not sure when she speaks, it’s somewhere between staring up at the stars, and looking at the shiny dew covering the grass of the hills behind UA.

“I’m not ready.”

Or, with graduation right around the corner, Momo has a conversation with Iida about what growing up means.

~~~

Azure’s fics:

A Helping Hand for All by azureskyy

Izuku doesn't know why everyone's talking about a certain hero analyst online. He's tried browsing through the forums and other sites, but he just can't find the person they're talking about.

Maybe he'll ask them later. For now, he has some analysis to do.

Or: Izuku is a well-known hero and quirk analyst across multiple social media platforms.

Not that he's aware of it, of course.

A Missed Chance

Two paths cross then diverge. In another universe, perhaps, they could have walked on the same path; they could have talked for the second time that day, and Izuku could have been given an opportunity that could change his entire life. And maybe, just maybe, he would have taken it.

But this isn’t that universe.

Or: What if All Might wasn't able to find Izuku after the Sludge Villain Incident?

~~~

Alice’s fics:

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by @makeitbluue (x)

“Did you think you’d be safe from me forever? That you could chip away at my power base and I would not care or try to hunt you down?” The man asks as he steps forwards.

Izuku scrambles backwards in his bed, searching the covers as he goes for his phone. If he can get a text off to All Might or Aizawa-sensei he can alert people to the potential danger.

But even as he moves, something in the back of his mind tells him he had heard this voice before. A different time, a different context, but the same voice.

~~~

Ely’s fics:

bend and break by @queenangst (x)

In a world where you can feel your soulmate's pain, Eijirou spends a lot of his life up until meeting his soulmate hurting.

draw and quarter

In District Twelve, no one volunteers.

When Aizawa Shouta’s name is called, no one says a word. He stands there for a moment, feeling all the world slow around him, and then he straightens his shoulders and walks to his death.

He will die fighting. At the very least, Shouta can promise that.

Shouta's name is drawn for the Hunger Games, alongside Shirakumo Oboro. No one from their district has ever won.

damage control

After All for One's defeat, Aizawa Shouta is grasping for ways to protect his students. At the same time, a discrepancy in Midoriya's behavior leads Shouta down a dangerous line of investigation and to a single question: if Midoriya is the U.A. traitor.

Between the Wind and the Water

Staying at U.A. for winter break, Izuku hopes it'll be a quiet chance to spend the holidays with Todoroki and supervising teachers All Might and Aizawa-sensei.

It's just his luck a gift-shopping trip turns into a gift from a villain, and Izuku's new Half-Cold, Half-Hot Quirk is not so easy to control. Neither are the secrets he's been carefully keeping.

a glimpse of tomorrow (looking back)

Subject: Aldera Time Capsule Ceremony Forwarded Message— This year marks ten years for the Aldera Middle School graduating class of 20XX.To celebrate, we would like to invite pro heroes Kingpin and Deku, Aldera alumni, to participate in a public time-capsule opening. We are incredibly proud to have helped them on their journeys to becoming heroes, and would be most honored to receive them as guests and for them to speak at the ceremony. [...]

"Well," Deku says, leaning over to turn the monitor towards him. His eyes flick over the contents of the email one more time. "If they haven't changed, then I guess we could return the favor."

Ten years down the line, Bakugou and Midoriya are invited to a time capsule ceremony at their middle school to read letters from their past selves, and look back on their past and how it shaped their future. For anyone else, it would have been a celebration.

For the two of them, it's an opportunity.

A look into Bakugou and Midoriya's past—through a future neither of them imagined—as pro heroes, agency partners, and friends.

of the mighty heart

It was just complicated. Kacchan had changed. Izuku had changed. What was between them was constant—Kacchan was always there—but even constants, Izuku supposed, could change, too.

...You saved me, sometimes you say Deku and it doesn’t sound so much like an insult, you say it like you mean it, you say it like you mean me.

After the war ends and the dust settles, Izuku is left in pain and feeling useless. There's still so much to do and people to save, and it's just... too much for one person.

And then there's Kacchan.

~~~

Fawn’s fics:

Bough Breaks by @fawnvelveteen (x) (trigger warning for discussion of rape/noncon)

In life, nothing is certain. Pro-heroes aren’t always the good guys. Children are not spared from the darkest realms of humanity. Izuku isn't acting like his normal self at school lately, and his homeroom teacher has taken notice. After learning about the mother’s new, unwelcomed boyfriend, Aizawa’s concern shifts into dread. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep his student away from harm.

Almost Moon (trigger warning for suicide) (Black Clover)

It was always at night. One of Noelle's squadmates, apparently, believes it's a good idea to walk across the rooftop, directly over her head while she is trying to get some sleep. Finally, she decides to confront the nighttime nuisance. What she discovers is something she never expected, nor did she wish to see.

~~~

Nez’s fics:

The True Successor by @neko-nez (x)

Toshinori is caught in a time loop.

~~~

Aodh’s fics:

new game + (the pros of being over-leveled, the catharsis of finally beating That One Boss, and a bonus social link) by @takeyamayuu (x)

Izuku hasn’t been noticed yet, being as far from the fight as he is. Or if he has, they’re dismissing him in favor of the larger threat of Aizawa-sensei. As they should, since he takes out the last one with a well placed kick, turning to face Shigaraki,

Izuku tenses, this is-

This is where his teacher’s arm is injured and then-

The Nomu.

One for All spikes to around fifty percent, his muscles stinging, bones creaking as Izuku darts forward, aiming for Shigaraki’s head with an axe-kick.

Second year Midoriya Izuku gets hit with a Quirk, skids into the USJ, and learns a little about self-care along the way.

~~~

Ghost’s fics:

fingerpaint bruises and a kick in the teeth by @ghoststrawberries (x)

There’s a sour taste in Shouta’s mouth as he stares at Jackrabbit’s bright smile. The smile he’s wearing in every clear photo of him. It somewhat reminds Shouta of All Might’s smile.

Jackrabbit might be a menace to the Commission, but there’s no way Shouta can believe that a man with that smile is anything less than good to his core.

“And I’m your last resort to handle this quietly.” He says knowingly, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Precisely.”

Shouta’s gut response is to refuse.

The words “I don’t kill.” are halfway up his throat before they become stuck.

As an underground hero, sometimes Shouta Aizawa is called upon to do darker jobs than one might expect a hero to have to do. This time, when he's tasked with taking out a vigilante who's managed to bother the Hero Public Safety Commission one too many times, he's not sure he'll be able to follow through.

~~~

Amira’s fics:

And Now I See Daylight by @awake-my-oceans (x)

AnalysisOverload Current mood: HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON

AnalysisOverload reblogged AnalysisOverload Okay, let’s talk HeroCon.

Look around, and you’ll see a lot of discrimination—against people whose Quirk is debilitating, against people whose Quirks scare us, against people who have trouble controlling their Quirk, against people who don’t have a Quirk at all. It’s easy to feel alone in a sea of discrimination.

Enter HeroCon:X.

A social media fic following Deku post-graduation.

The chaotic neutral’s guide to time travel

“You claim you are from the future,” Nedzu said, hopping onto his desk. “Do you have anything to prove this?”

Hitoshi fished around in his pocket. “Here’s my hero license,” he said, holding it up.

Nedzu opened his mouth, but Hitoshi kept right on going, producing a handful of odds and ends from his pocket. “Also a movie ticket, some dryer lint, some, uh, didn’t know I still had that but it’s old gum—“

That was when Aizawa walked in, capture weapon floating around him. “What’s the emergency?” he asked, clipped, as he kicked open the door.

“—and the left arm of a Deku plushie,” Hitoshi finished, unruffled. “My cat ate the rest.”

~~~

Aaaaaand that’s all I got. Thanks for making it to the end!

#bnha #bnha fic #fic rec #fic rec list #fic rec masterpost #nova talks #all my friends in one post. sniffle #most of em anyway #not sure what to tag this so. ill hit send!#forgot too tag this as an ask rip #anonymous #ask

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 4 years

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Let’s talk: the Vmin “no on screen interaction = no bond” Paradox

by Admin 1 & 2

One of the reasons that are usually stated for why people are so insistent on their claims that Jimin and Tae supposedly aren’t close anymore, that their friendship is nothing but PR for Friends, and that the whole “soulmate agenda” is fake as well, boils down to the statement of “we rarely or never see them interact on screen, no touching, no talking, nothing”. We find this both misleading, since it isn’t true, but also disrespectful, since it means that the only way in which some are able to accept closeness between the members as real and valid is if they see it, nothing else. So, just because you don’t see it through grand physical touches, hugs and whatnot, does that mean if they speak about each other, for example, that doesn’t count?

You could argue that the power of pictures is greater than that of words, but to that I would like to ask: do they owe us visual proof of their closeness when we already have so much that shows how truly close Jimin and Tae are, how much they care about each other and how much work across years they’ve willingly and eagerly put into their bond for it to grow as deep and beautiful as it is?

As a way to showcase how misleading the screen time = friendship/closeness argument is, especially in connection to Jimin and Tae, I’d like for us to look at two different instances: Black Swan MV (the MV Sketch as well as the “opera” b*omb and the basket ball b*omb) and the Jingle Ball 2019 EPISODE.

Let’s start with the videos surrounding Black Swan below the cut:

Around that time I saw a lot, and I mean a lot, of chatter (mostly negative) about vmin since a very loud portion of the fandom were very up in arms after we got Friends. Not only did it solidify their preconceived notion that they are just friends, because the song is titled like that and none of them really cared enough to check the lyrics, but also because it opened up a whole new discussion about “but like, are they really friends?” To which, of course, their answer was mostly “no”. It’s just PR, they actually don’t really like each other, they barely interact, we see nothing of them, both interact way more with the other members, you know the drill. So when the MV Sketch for Black Swan came out it was, once again, like more “am/munition” for their arguments.

The thing we find laughable though is this expectation of “ship moments” in a video that’s literally about the filming of their music video, most of the scenes showing said filming happening though there’s also a few scenes of the members interacting. But, at the core, this isn’t like a bangtan b*mb of them hanging out backstage waiting for something or another where it makes sense that we’d see them interact a lot and be silly, instead it’s a video in which their focus (as well as ours should be) is on filming and giving the best performance they can so the MV turns out amazing, which it did. They are doing their work, not enjoying their free time. When you’re at work, do you really spend the majority of your time playing around with your friends? No, you do your job, the thing you get paid for doing.

The first few times I watched the video, I was so captivated by the theatre and their dancing, their mindset and performance, I didn’t even really notice any of their interactions or pay attention to who interacted with who or who did not. Guess my priorities and expectations are simply a bit different when watching a music video being filmed...

So what was the conclusion people drew? While Jimin and Tae are both close to JK and the other member, they are not close to each other, they don’t even particularly like each other. It was a narrative I saw repeated across various sns and, really, while it made me sad, I also wasn’t surprised. It’s nothing new that people treat vmin in such a manner.

Then, months later we got two Bangtan B*mbs from the same time and surprise, surprise Jimin and Tae did interact, a lot even, in ways that show how attuned with each other they are, how easy it is for them to fall into one of their role-plays or just be silly together, how gentle and thoughtful of the other they are, and how much they enjoy doing something together, regardless of what it is.

The first, posted October 1st 2020, showed Tae playing basket ball while Jimin and JK sat off to the side and watched him. Like you can see in the above pictures, eventually Jimin joined Tae and they played together for most of the video. Since the sun was shining at them, Tae stood before Jimin and raised his hands so the shadow fell onto Jimin’s eyes and he could see better, later on doing the same for Tae. It’s a small thing and yet it shows they care about each other. At some point Jimin pretended that he’ll be leaving, twice, and yet he stayed and they played some more. Toward the end of the video Namjoon joins them and eventually vmin leave and Namjoon stays behind and plays with Seokjin before the video ends.

Based on all that you’d assume the people who, seven months earlier, claimed vmin are essentially estranged and barely even like each other would reconsider, but of course not. Despite the focus being largely on them across the entire video, many comments by non-vminies (and non-namjinists) I saw on sns were about Tae playing on his own, Jimin and JK sitting off to the side together, and Namjoon playing with Seokjin.

The second video was posted October 24th 2020 and began with Jimin pretending he’s an opera singer, which Tae noticed and immediately joined in, since we know this is the sort of thing Tae enjoys doing, even occasionally turning their own songs and lyrics into opera style to make the other members laugh. This sets off this entire sequence of Tae and Jimin singing different things, JK also joining in for a moment, and then vmin ending on that sweet moment of Jimin standing behind Tae with his hands covering Tae’s eyes before concluding that “it’s hard to play with him”. And yet, even if it’s hard, can we talk about these two screenshots of Jimin fondly watching Tae and looking like he can’t wait until his stylist is done so he can go join him? Adorable.

But again, even here while the focus is on vmin for a large portion of the video, this fact was largely omitted and instead people zeroed in on moments in which Tae was alone, Tae or Jimin interacted with JK, and Tae singing with Namjoon and Seokjin. It seems to me like the council of “how valid is a friendship” decided on their opinion months prior and stuck with it even if it meant, as always, to just ignore vmin interactions in favor of other things while at the same time spreading the “vmin are not friends because they don’t interact” agenda to anyone who’ll listen.

Generally I don’t really care all that much for all the chatter happening among parts of ARMY, but seeing these comments belittling and erasing the bond Jimin and Tae have, regardless if you see it as platonic or potentially romantic, is just really hard to read sometimes. Not even because I’m a vminnie, but simply because they are erasing something that is so important to both Tae and Jimin, this bond they have with each other they themselves spoke so much about, showed so much of, and yet people refuse to accept it, like they have any right to make such judgements about their bond.

The second example I’d like to show is Jingle Ball 2019 in LA and how deceptive, paradoxical and misleading the no screen time = no bond agenda really is.

For context, the Jingle Ball happened some time in December 2019, the same month as when we got the vmin “let’s take a half bath together” while holding hands during Seokjin’s birthday vlive happened, meaning a time when Jimin and Tae were just as close as ever, even occasionally giving us glimpses into their bond, giggling together and being all smiles. Also the same month as the famous holding hands because we think no one sees us anymore moment at the airport.

On July 22nd 2020 we got the EPISODE showing the behind the scenes of the Jingle Ball performance. It’s 11 minutes long and includes the BWL performance with Halsey, but largely shows the members getting ready, practicing their English and being excited to perform. If we focus solely on vmin then sure, I’ll agree that there were no interactions between those two whatsoever, not a usual or out of the ordinary thing, and not something I see any kind of problem in. They don’t owe us interactions in every piece of content. And yet, as always, it just added fuel to everyones favorite agenda that vmin are not close, ignoring all the prior time frame context we established previously. But who cares, they didn’t interact in this 11 minute video therefore they definitely didn’t interact at all and now hate each other.

Jokes on those people because of course that isn’t true.

Excuse the rather mediocre quality of those pictures, I tried my best with the screenshots taken from a video taken by a fan (one of many) who got to see BTS behind the scenes before going on stage from the stands further up. There’s this video on twt that shows just vmin and then I found a longer version in this person’s vlog (around the 7:25 min mark and onward). You can check both and confirm that it really is vmin in those screenshots. Also, as memory refresher, Jimin was the only one with a black collar and shirt along with blond hair. Namjoon stands further away and can be seen in the three lower pictures.

So, what does this tell us? Easy--just because it wasn’t shown in a condensed and edited video it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Just because Jimin and Tae don’t show us things on screen, or the editors don’t use scenes where it can be seen, it doesn’t mean that it’s an accurate representation of their actual, real life bond. They weren’t in the EPISODE but hugged and walked together off camera.

Notice how this agenda merely applies to vmin, how their bond, their soulmate status and closeness is the only one that gets questioned at every possible moment. When Seokjin said that Yoongi feels like his soulmate nowadays in an episode of In The SOOP no one questioned his words and accepted them as true, because he said so himself and we should believe their sincerity when they say these things. And yet when it comes to vmin, the rules are entirely different.

This was a post brought to you by Admin 2 coming across yet another thread on twt filled with ARMY claiming outlandish things about vmin and their bond and getting annoyed.

#lets talk #vmin #taehyung #jimin #we try not to get annoyed by these things but...#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #honestly this agenda is awful and unfair #just needed to get this out of our system

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sinceileftyoublog · 3 years

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Black Country, New Road Album Review: Ants From Up There

(Ninja Tune)

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Divorced from context, you could hear Black Country, New Road’s remarkable Ants From Up There as a conscious effort to stray from being called “the world’s second-best Slint tribute act.” Following up a debut album of songs that had existed long before they were released, the septet embraced a new style of playing to create Ants, a distillation of indie rock aesthetics of the past thirty years. There’s the wiry post-rock of Louisville’s finest, yes, but also the orchestral bombast of Arcade Fire and the jagged experimentalism of the UK scene in which BC, NR currently find themselves. But its devastating lyrics foreshadowed the revelation of the mental health struggles of lead singer and guitarist Isaac Wood, troubles that would cause him to leave the band mere days before its release earlier this month. Ants From Up There is a breakup album, the dissolution of its central relationship at first mirrored and obscured by metaphor, eventually a raw, last-breath expression of utmost desperation.

It’s hard not to evaluate Ants From Up There in its album order; the record is built like a symphony, its instrumental intro and first song with lyrics foreshadowing musical motifs and ideas and characters that repeat throughout the album. “Chaos Space Marine”, named after forces in popular wargame Warhammer 40K, is misleadingly uplifting; the squeaks of Lewis Evans’ alto saxophone interspersed between violinist Georgia Ellery’s main introductory riff do, in fact, embrace a sort of celebratory chaos. “So I’m leaving this body / And I’m never coming home again, yeah!” shout Wood, Ellery, pianist May Kershaw, and bassist Tyler Hyde, both interstellar and disassociated. On “Concorde”, Wood starts to unveil his devotion: “I was made to love you,” he sings on a song that builds up with strings and horns and ends with crunchy guitar like the way For the first time’s “Sunglasses” begins. The song’s namesake is a no-longer used British-French turbojet airliner, but in the narrative of the album, the plane, rising high above and leaving Wood behind, is his ex. “Concorde, I miss you / Don’t text me ‘til winter,” Wood begs, “I can hardly afford a second summer of splinters / This staircase, it leads only to some old pictures of you.” The memories he paints are sad, small moments where you can sense bits of false hope, like when his significant other rejects his intimacy and says, “Don’t eat your toast in my bed,” an ask that’s followed by horns, click-clack drums, and light Afropop guitar riffing, a glimpse of light that’s all the more soul-crushing because of the inevitability of disaster.

Throughout Ants From Up There, Wood’s mind bounces all over the place, and he often gets ahead of himself, important details to share so as not to paint a glossy picture of himself when it comes to his own heartbreak. “It’s just been a weekend / But in my mind / We summer in France / With our genius daughters now / And you teach me to play the piano,” he sings on “Good Will Hunting”, all-too-relatable for any romantic who easily falls in love. He’s also conscious of the effect being in an acclaimed band, singing about a relationship, has on his significant other. “I never wanted you to see that much / Of the bodies down there beneath me,” Wood sings over solemn, then frenetic strings, piano, and woodwinds. You start to understand why he left the figurative and literal stage.

At almost an hour long, Ants From Up There is an emotionally exhausting listen, and more so because its final three songs make up almost half of the run time. They also demonstrate the purest outpouring of feeling from the band. Song of the year candidate “The Place Where He Inserted The Blade” is the biggest tearjerker, a song whose title seems menacing until you realize Wood’s referencing an instructional cooking video. Inspired by Bob Dylan’s Rough and Rowdy Ways standout “I’ve Made Up My Mind to Give Myself to You”, and unwound atop lilting piano and flute, Wood describes his crippling dependency. Even if “every time I try to make lunch for anyone else, in my head I end up dreaming of you,” is a sweet sentiment, it’s followed by the vulnerable chorus: “I’ll praise the Lord, burn my house / I get lost, I freak out / You come home and hold me tight / As if it never happened at all.” The last verse of the song includes playing music for fans as another example of dependence: “Show me the fifth or the cadence you want me to play.” “Snow Globes” juxtaposes free drums from Charlie Wayne, essentially ignoring the rest of the band’s melodic responses to him, a perhaps unintentional but fitting metaphor for unrequited love.

Then there’s “Basketball Shoes”, a white wale for BC, NR fans, the 12-minute live favorite that ends up closing the album. “A home for us, stick insects,” Wood sings as he observes the destruction left in his wake. The ants from up there are left to clean up the mess. “If you see me looking strange with a fresh style / I’m still not feeling that great,” he clarifies. The song quiets, and its instrumentation swells exponentially, like the introduction to Los Campesinos! “You! Me! Dancing!” but with the brutal confessionalism of Titus Andronicus’ “The Ballad of Hampton Roads”. As various band members come and leave and provide a gorgeous backing chorus like a Greek tragedy, Wood’s at the center, screaming. Ants From Up There may forever be inseparable from Wood’s departure from the band, and ironically, just like Slint, BC, NR saw their lead singer depart before their instant classic album was released. But the context only adds to the album’s lore. Ants From Up There is right up there with The Monitor, or Neutral Milk Hotel’s In The Aeroplane Over The Sea, a moment in time you’ll remember first experiencing and want to pour yourself into for years to come.

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mc-critical · 3 years

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What do you think about the relationship between SS and his father? In all the times it is mentioned, it seems that he still fears him and holds a grudge for trying to kill him, but what happens after Mustafa's execution, it is not clear to me if in his mind he made peace with him

The relationship between Süleiman and Yavuz Selim was clearly very turbulent from the start. When Selim was mentioned and appeared on the horizon, he indeed was always portrayed as this ruthless and even equally paranoid guy who would do anything to keep his power. And this paranoia of his kept on even when SS was the only heir left. We don't know much of his canon characterization outside of what people that knew him have said about him and a few flashbacks, but I do headcanon that he went on campaigns a whole lot and that he cared about the state, his own state much more than any other personal attachments he could've had. That's why he may not have gotten that close to his only son, too (SS spending most of his time in a sanjack could've also contributed to this) and since similarly to SS, his paranoia and self-righteousness hardened him to the point where there was no turning back anymore and that more or less became who you are, you look at yourself as a figure of a ruthless padişah, not so much as a human being, Selim would be capable of the most drastic measures against whoever he felt betray him in some way. It's no wonder Hafsa kept SS as far away from his suspicion as possible, because Selim is characterized by everyone by being ruthless and cruel and that means he can be pretty unpredictable, as well, judging by the situation with the kaftan. He is a guy that his family - his wife (in the show apparently), his daughters and his only son! - is afraid of.

Given the circumstances, it's pretty explainable to me why SS is afraid of him, as well, and is probably the one who is the most afraid of him deep down, but wouldn't admit it so openly, of course, only in self reflection. SS has apparently grown distant to his own father and perhaps they haven't even met so much. The flashback in E55 gave us a glimpse of how their relationship could've been - a pretty familiar sword fight and words about innocence that establish that Selim has also seen the danger in SS from pretty early on. It's as if SS has always been a suspect from day one. However, outside of that flashback, SS defines Selim by two major deeds - the whole ordeal with Selim's own father and the poisoned kaftan. Since again, SS spent most of his time in a sanjack and he didn't have the chance (Hafsa could've talked him out of it) or simply didn't want to let out his anger on his father for this event, deep resentment would overtake SS more and more throughout the years, because it's a vivid, impactful image and a strong, negative emotion one wouldn't forget so easily when your own father is the one who wants your death. This precise event is the one most telling of Selim's cruelty and ruthlessness in the show and that's what SS associates him with - cruelty and ruthlessness. But there the fear comes in, most of all, because of the similar position: one day SS would have to go in his footsteps, one day he would have to take on his role. SS is also a padişah and what if he also becomes like Selim? What if he also sends a poisoned kaftan to his son? (he asked Allah not to let him do that in one episode) What if he becomes as cruel, what if his reign also turns into a bloodshed? This fear of his is so strong and deep-seated that the further SS goes on with his growing Ego and paranoia, the more this fear ends up overtaking him and makes what he has still strived to avoid become part of him he lives by and a mold he would always follow, for he is the padişah and he, just like his father, wouldn't stand betrayal or what he perceives as betrayal, because he has become so used to living with this fear that amplified his Ego and paranoia even more that he writes off his deeds as absolutely necessary when he only screwed up big time.

This fear has turned into SS's ultimate justification, for Yavuz Selim was presented as his Azraeel two episodes before he did one of the wrongest deeds in his life. Here's the place for me to say that SS would have only benefited more as a character and gained much more sympathy from me, if precisely his backstory with his father was more explored beyond what we got. What we got was too scarse to justify his (let's face it) mostly out-of-context event-based paranoia to the point it became like this is used as SS's own justification without him truly realizing it, not a justification the audience got, because the show didn't want to justify neither Ibrahim's (maybe aside from E82 itself), nor Mustafa's execution. We could see the factors, yes, but justify the executions? No, especially when they both were presented as wrong when it came to the state itself through the tragic themes. And that's the thing: SS eventually put his Ego of a padişah and warped beliefs of what has to be done over his own early established principles and the state itself. That's also why SS's motivation rings hollow due to this minimal information and I think that SS not only became like his father, he even exceeded him. The stability of the state still played a part in the only other established event of Yavuz Selim SS eventually leaned on in E97 and shown with an actual flashback in E122 and his intentions didn't seem to have changed, since he was praised for his ruling and conquests. No matter how ruthless he was, we're led to believe he still was a decent ruler. That changes with SS. He begins putting Selim's way of thinking and courses of action in his own ways of thinking and ends up twisting them even further, if only for the deeper exploration and character arc we got with him.

Süleiman gives in to Selim's ways of thinking pretty early actually: he's used to being suspected and he quickly becomes accustomed to his own role to the point his decisions could hurt his family and could be pretty similar to his own father's. The paranoia of betrayal and dethroning appeared much faster than even he could imagine, since once he saw Mustafa grow up more and more, yes, he had very mixed feelings when he saw him again in E46 and he showed pride in him then still, but he also saw the danger more and more and recited the exact same words his father had once said to him himself. It's no wonder that E55's flashback and the aforementioned scene were parallels to each other: it's like Selim had said these words to SS in a fairly early stage of their relationship and here the cycle repeats with Mustafa and the signs of SS becoming like Selim, something he would never principally want to, are already there, not to mention Hafsa's warnings even before that. (because I wouldn't be surprised if she knew Selim better than SS did - she has spent quite some time with him as his wife and she was the one who immediately sensed danger in the kaftan situation, yes, a mother's survival instinct plays here, too, but Hafsa isn't a person who would be suspicious without any reason whatsoever, even at her worst) By then and by E123, SS had already shown the ruthlessness Selim demonstrated and the more we went, the more SS fell into despair for all his actions, the worse he ended up being, ceasing to realize the effects of what he has done. (like his intervention or lack thereof in the culmination of Selim and Bayezid's conflict) For SS it's way beyond a matter of self-righteousness, but a matter of conscience he had stopped listening to, a conscience he previously said that would define his reign. That fear of his father made him go in lengths he wouldn't imagine him going and for all the perceived attempts to avoid it throughout the show (like him not sending a poisoned kaftan to Mustafa and telling him that he wouldn't ever dare such execution), he ended up caving to them more and more and taking his own spin on Selim's mindset. SS took his role as a padişah much more dearly and that allowed him to delve deeper into his paranoia, into what he has to do for the sake of solely continuing to rule. Perhaps that survival instinct present during Selim's reign never left and evolved into something else. (we don't know the full extent of Selim's cruelty, which is honestly merely covered in hints, but we do know the full extent of SS's, which gives us even more of a possibility for SS to have "evolved" past it.)

Did Süleiman make peace with his father? It never became clear in the show, but I doubt that happened, at least not before he died. It's the fear of becoming Selim Yavuz that ruined SS's whole life in one way or another and his conscience always spoke to him left and right, no matter how willing he was to listen or not. I see SS becoming even more resentful of his father's ways when he committed his worst crimes. And even in his last days, he was more adamant to prove to people that he himself was still a capable ruler by going to a campaign, risking his own life and health for the sake of proving a point than thinking about how far has he come when it came to what he did as a padişah and how did that tie into the ways of his father. He certainly became more accepting of his mold over the years, but not in the way that would make peace with him, but rather as something that has to be done for the sake of your role. Until he died, SS probably still heavily disliked his father as a person and the best he could do at that point is not think about him. He would never justify or make peace with Selim Yavuz's deeds, not even in front of himself, despite of him doing the exact same. Süleiman makes a distinction between his thinking and that of his father, despite of even his own self telling him otherwise deep down. He wants to make that distinction, so why would there be a reason for SS to make peace with him back then? There would be no reason in his eyes.

Now, when he died, it's up for interpretation. Maybe he could've made peace with his father or at least convinced himself of that in his afterlife, since in his last monologue he did say that he takes only love and friendship with him and that would mean no negative feeling left, right? But the monologue itself is very up for interpretation, too, because.. what does that mean? How did this sudden turnaround happen? Did SS realize what he had done was wrong? Was he ready to accept that? Was he truly ready to get out of his role he has been used to since forever and live another life that consisted of only love and friendship? Then what about the imagery of this scene that showed him going to another throne instead after all? Yes, maybe the love and friendship were the true throne he went to with the Sultanate coming to an end, but couldn't that be more him only fully coming to terms that he'll come back to where he came from, where every person on the earth came from (that is, the ground)? Because he could start over anyway, but still not forget what happened in his life, paralleled with his first monologue ever in the first episode, where he said that he doesn't forget? There is so much to speculate here.

#magnificent century #muhteşem yüzyıl #muhtesem yuzyil #sultan suleiman #selim yavuz #ask #Isbluesr #i delved deeper into SS's arc overall along with his relationship with his father #but oh well

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staggeringsmite · 3 years

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HELLO! just finished properly listening to your (amazing!) corruption arc playlist! I have many thoughts, and so I wanted to ask you about specific moments and/or characters that you associate with songs (as mentioned in your tags), as I am simply SO intrigued. (did you have certain songs that were added for certain character(s)? were any songs for specific what if's? etc.) also, please consider this a free pass to ramble about anything related to the playlist that you wish. it is SO excellent!!

AHHHH!! thank you jade (both for the compliment and the free space to yell about my thoughts here because when i get playlist brainrot i get it Bad <3) // the playlist in question

i think i'm genuinely going to do a song-by-song thoughts below the cut, but here are some overview thoughts/associations if you don't wanna read all of that or don't have the time!

overall this started with athena by nova twins! i thought the sp*der imagery and overall vibe was great for a more sinister look at the wacky (mostly) chaotic neutral party as they are, just going full lolth. i wanted the pacing to be semi-slow and then drop into the more rock-heavy reckless villain-y section before moving into a (?) bittersweet? i guess? end that feels a bit more like a question mark of if it was worth it.

i think this party is full of extremely interesting motivations to side with an evil power for their own gain/the benefit of the people they care about, and each one of them has a very complex relationship with that so things spun wildly out of control as a thought about this.

for songs i associate with specific characters here's an overview, but you'll notice there aren't a lot for fy'ra rai or orym which i get into a bit more in the song-by-song:

all: i come with knives, into the spin, steady/steady, control, bad dreams / lolth: million years, athena, diggers / dariax: diggers, plenty, hollow / dorian: athena, grenadine, dangerous / fearne: plenty, you should see me in a crown, black wave / fy'ra rai: home / opal: home, grenadine, black wave, you should see me in a crown / orym: i'm not calling you a liar, dangerous

song-by-song >:)

1. i come with knives (acoustic) - this song, zoowee, so i went with the acoustic version because i think it's a nice slow but sinister start and it very much gave me the feeling of whenever you begin as a character to question taking this kind of power, that is a Source yes that you can do whatever with but is rooted in temptation and associated with evil, is there any real justification for that which is not in some part selfish. "i come with knives and agony to love you" if that isn't the chosen ones to a T in their overall reasoning for even considering a deal with lolth. and as much as that may be rooted in care, and wanting to be strong and powerful enough to protect the people they care about, it is a painful way to love when you really choose that path once and for all.

2. into the spin - this one is based on "slow climb but quick to descend" and i love the instrumentation as a part of the overall vibe, but it's about sowing the seed here. planting even a hint of consideration in accepting the power of the circlet and lolth's words is going to need time for the person to mull it over, but once it's on it is On baby.

3. million years - this is what i mean by All In Baby, and while it isn't the playlists narrative point of anyone actually accepting the power for good, it is a glimpse intended to shake things up after an 8 minute slow start with the first two songs, and this is all about lolth who is a Chaotic Evil entity, who is a reckless and hauntingly destructive force <3

4. home - "everything you made will end up broken" i think this song to fy'ra rai is more of an omen, of everything that she cannot fix but wants to, knowing that she cannot make choices for the group and seeing the potential path they could wind up on and knowing that fundamentally if they go that way it is their decision no matter how much it will hurt her - for opal there is SOMETHING about the tone of this song that feels very much like her, and the complete lack of care it seems to have to rattle off mundane things to the intimate drama of the place, to omens, to demands/declarations i think it shows her personality well and how that pairs with a chaotic neutral entity being offered something like the power of the circlet

5. steady, steady - idk if this is necessarily everyone but the mix of you know when you're ready and i am ready to be the one, this is the song about taking the leap and grabbing for power and/or fy'ra rai and orym's feelings of diving in with them or resisting/leaving them

6. diggers - for lolth this is just the consistent "i've been waiting for you" in the bg which i found fun and disconcering but also i think this is the perfect party and perfect storm for her to convince someone to use the circlets power >:) - for dariax! it seems with what we know he doesn't really know that he is a divine soul sorcerer? unless that is a show he is putting up. still, i feel like him carrying the circlet is Very interesting as someone with a divine bloodline who is in a way being given/chosen for that type of power holding onto this artifact born from evil and perhaps being tempted by it & i think this song works as an interesting back and forth for him with the strange double-entity grab for him in a way

7. athena - truly just a banger that fit the vibes wayyyy too well and started this whole thing, it's loud and reckless and out for blood babey <3 - i think i associate it with dorian mostly because i also associate it with lolth and he is the closest to really taking that leap in canon (and also probably the first one the go if we're following this playlist like a story with everyone/most everyone going corrupt, though it can be read truly infinite ways these are just compiled songs) i think it has a certain flair and appeal that just makes me Feel like it's the song that would play the second dorian puts the circlet on (which! fun fact! decreases your charisma by 2! have fun beloved bard!) - i think it's a very intense conversation

8. i’m not calling you a liar - okayokayokay it's orym thought time bc there are sooo many worlds and routes for orym here and i truly have no idea where he would even end up in this hypothetical. do i think that orym loves these guys and wants to protect them? yes. do i think that he may genuinely take the pain of loving them and keep his morals by walking away and/or turning on them if they all go evil? maybe. do i think he also might love them enough to throw that away? maybe. in a party of all chaotic neutrals besides him without fy'ra rai he is surprisingly the wild card here. while they have each other and no one else, he has the teachings and wisdom of the voice of the tempest and a moral compass that does not align with theirs at all. so, something has to give! dorian's slide into chaotic neutral was natural, but i think orym would be giving up Much More of himself to let himself slide from neutral good to chaotic neutral. i have no answers only sad, sad hypotehtical questions and scenarios so i will just, leave you with "and i love you so much, i'm gonna let you kill me." - this song also comes here before the storm of the 3-5 because whatever way he goes i think orym sees it all happen before anyone else does.

9. grenadine - Do Not Tell Me You Couldn't Hear villainous opal and dorian say the lines "what a big heart i have, i'll be your savior now. what a real catch i am, all the more to pull you down." - i see this song as playful but more genuine for dorian in terms of Truly Really believing any action he does to protect his friends is justified and good to him in his eyes whereas this is a very playful song for a villainous opal - they both give off this vibe strongly though (could see this one for fearne as well but don't have a good a justification)

10. black wave - helloooooo my favorite druid and warlock?? going apeshit with power? more so than they already are on a day-to-day basis (esp given episode 6 combat)? that's what this song is about. "stumbling down the street i swear to god you don't wanna test me" - i also think they both have an interesting question with "what do i believe?" with fearne being of the feywild which is a place of considerably different moral standing to exandria and opal being so young that she doesn't have the world figured out at all <3 terrifying and upsetting when you get into those questions on a corruption arc <3

11. you should see me in a crown - okay i knooooow this one is on the dorian playlist BUT vibes for my brutal babes <333 something about opal’s whole personality and fearne confronting the mirror self But eventually choosing/heading down the path anyway?? impeccable i love it there’s very few other thoughts here

12. control - OKAY not only does this song Fuck but i put it as party wide because i think it transitions nicely into the end of the mix which is more of the “questioning this decision after going all in but not being able to turn back/was it all worth it in the end?” part - i mostly love the “though i like the idea of providence... i’m in love with control” repeated because! i think the circlet is very interesting in that it has been iterated many times over that though it has connections to lolth and she has some claim/twisted abilities with it, it IS just a power source. so, the idea of going all in and accepting this power is an incredibly interesting dilemma of “who’s in charge here? did you really put it on/would you have without these dreams and lolth’s influence? are you really in control?” i think this song really represents that admission/delusion of control in this situation.

13. plenty - okay this song in any context is just my Feywild/Faerie Vibe song so i think this trails back to my feelings about fearne leaning into that different set of fey morals along a corruption arc, and as for dariax i think this is about abundance! following through that mixture of divine power source and chaotic evil god origin over dariax and his chaotic history of vast and varied experiences in emon, i think this very much befits a corrupt version of him.

14. dangerous - this song makes me insane, and the first reason i put it on the mix was the “the dead are true believers. rest assured. we are all believers” really just made me think of a terrible and cinematic moment of them discovering the circlet with the dead aboard the ship ESP in the context of this playlist’s narrative where that was the point they were destined to claim its power and go through their corruption arc - “how does it feel to be your own deceiver?” is the main reason and feeling as for why i made this a dorian song as well in line with “don’t worry i would do anything for my friends.” bc i personally find dorian’s corruption arc to be disillusioned with his own intentions and takes a lot of convincing himself that taking this power for his friends is noble in the scope of this group’s collective morals and self-interest in keeping each other safe and prosperous so <3

15. hollow - woowee dariax corruption, at least in this scope, i think is very frightening to me in that i think he’s going full maximalist, abundant, greedy, impulsive chaotic evil if we’re realllly leaning into a villain arc but still many of those things if we’re just going “this group is the only thing that matters and i’ll do anything for them no matter the cost” - i also think this song has a tone of resentment towards this? apprehension a bit? recognizing that this is how the person singing is but not entirely enjoying or feeling justified in it? as impulsive as dariax is, i think he cares A Lot, and is even a character i could see pulling a reverse dorian and going chaotic good in a different story than we’re in? “so simple when i was younger” and “i’d be a dancer of a different tune” really give me angsty dariax vibes in the height of his corruption arc

16. bad dreams - “don't you worry about your bad dreams cause I'm not in them. don't you worry about what change brings cause you can't stop it.” WOOF i don’t know that this one really needs to be explained but it’s the climax and the descent all in one of the party/corrupted individual being too far gone in their decision to step back or be saved. i think the tone of the song lends itself well to a mixture of uncaring but also giving some question to if they regret it or not based on the narration of the crowd against them.

#cheep cheep #ask #jadeandquartzes #this is ridiculously long i just <333 get so lost in the playlist sauce <333 all the time <333 #if you read all of this i am kissing you on the cheek <3 #spider ment #spider tw

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saphyhowl · 3 years

Text

Own Story

Ok so I finally got the courage to write my story. I was a bit afraid to post it but I still got through with it. I have no idea how to protect my writing so I hope I can figure out where to regularly post it and not be afraid that someone will take it. Although I doubt my story is that great. I just want to protect it because I am like a mother hen.

Here it goes... Please tell me how you like it, leave a comment or a like, I will be forever grateful to you :3 Also please please please don’t pay attention to my bad spelling. It’s a story I wrote by hand in french and translated it here. I am no translator so there will be mistakes. It’s not a final version, it’s an ongoing work. If you feel like stuff is missing that’s normal I am still working on lots of aspects, but don’t hesitate to let me know what you think might be crucial to you to understand the story.

I have a very low self esteem when it comes to my own work. It took me a very long time to get where I am today. I am not trying to get pity or anything, I am just putting you in a context so you understant that all this is historical for me and I hope we can celebrate that historic moment together.

*****************************************************

He should have felt it during the morning, when he woke up. The crispy air from the night still hung in his bedroom, rendering it impossible for him to fall back asleep. Nothing pleased him today. No urgent letters for him. Everything was calm. Although Cynan enjoyed the calm routine that had settled in his life, he could not help to feel as if he should act to prevent what seemed to him an upcoming storm.

After seven years of conquest and negotiation, his friend Meanas could ascend the throne officially. He could finally hold a coronation ceremony without any fear of revolution. Cynan had organized everything with the help of the other members of the counsel. The invitations were sent and had been answered. The preparation had already begun, all was well. After seven years of constant uproar, Cynan almost worshipped the calm and order that had finally settled in and so did Meanas.

As he sat at his desk, basking it this holy stillness, he read utterly slowly the law document he needed to approve. This was part of the many tasks Cynan, advisor of the future king. He should have sensed it in this moment as well, when the sun finally can warm one enough, hinting that the season of spring was approaching. He should have known that as the sweetest and mild season of the year was nearing, his life would enter a season of bitter regret.

***

“If my heart could run, then it would have already passed the coach that was meant to bring me to him.

I am of an impatient nature.

I play the scene out in my mind, like an actress before her performance.

How delectable it is just to imagine their faces when I finally reveal myself in front of them.

I could appear here and there. I could keep him as the last person I meet.

I could hide until the very end and wait until the coronation. Then, I would make the most vibrant of appearances.

Oh no, even better! I could visit him first. That would stir the glowing embers of our past and hint towards a possible story for us. Whatever that story would hold, that I would decide depending on my mood.

So many possibilities lie out there and only a few can be chose as I have only one life.

However, my emotions should not lead me astray and distract me from my true goal.

I did not return to revive past passions. I came here to set this place on fire, to start a new era.

Seven years of preparation and now everything will play out.

But to open the festivities, I must first get my hands on an invitation,”

The coach came to a halt in front of a mansion. Zelina descended and took in the view of the garden before walking towards the entrance, where a quite surprised butler awaited her.

***

Her arrival could not be compared to a thunderstorm. The situation occurred way too fast for Cynan to be overwhelmed. His butler announced her and when she entered his office her aura invaded the room like a rising tide. Cynan had been too dulled out from his peaceful day to prepare himself mentally to face the young woman in front of him.

Two old friends meeting again for the first time.

“You still have an awful taste. Your curtains are a disgrace,” Zelina said as she scanned the room visibly bored.

Silence.

“After all this time, I would have thought you had developed a more luxurious taste,” she added.

Zelina took one step forward and then another. She walked idly in the room with a candid expression.

“What is the reason for your visit... Madam?” Cynan asked.

Zelina suddenly turned her head towards Cynan and her golden eyes squinted with hatred.

“Madam…” she repeated.

Cynan did not react.

“Meanas’ coronation. Would that be a pleasing enough reason for you, Sir?” Zelina finally answered.

“King Meanas,” Cynan corrected.

“My apologies,” Zelina said as she bowed down excessively.

Zelina refused to refer to Meanas as a king.

“Lady Zelina, you are not invited to this joyous event,” Cynan stated.

Zelina smiles causing Cynan to doubt his capacity to stay unfazed for long.

“Oh but I do know that,” she said.

Zelina sat in the chair in front of Cynan’s desk and started playing with her fan. Cynan examined her and slowly he shifted into contemplation. That smile of her, her voice, her gesture, they were all familiar to him. Thousand memories rise again in his mind. He is tempted to dive into them and daydream. As he battled against the temptation of reminiscence, he did not notice Zelina looking at him as well. However, she was not reminiscing, she was waiting for the right timing.

“I simply came as a friend.. An old friend. One cannot forget a friend who did so much,” she added.

Zelina placed her hand on the table in an attempt to draw closer to Cynan. He stared at her hands. She was still wearing her many bracelets.

“And I mean, you know…” Zelina hesitated.

Cynan raised an eyebrow as he noticed her false bashfulness.

“Say, was it intentional to choose only one emissary for the South?” she asked.

Zelina had found the right moment and had struck with her words. She knew his weakness, Cynan was a skilled warrior and noble but not a tactician.

“Lady Zelina, this should not be of concern for you,” Cynan answered.

“Many southern families were quite shocked and felt offended,” Zelina added.

“I thought you came as a friend Zelina,”

“And it is as a friend, Cynan, that I inquire about this issue!”

Cynan sighed and Zelina took it as a sign to continue.

“You know much the merchants' families take pride in their origins. I tried to explain to them that there must have been a reason to send only one emissary. And that you, Cynan, would have chosen the emissary as impartially as possible,”

Cynan remained silent. Her way with words had gotten more skilled after all those years. Sadly for him, there was no impartiality coming from him. Meanas had wished to choose one emissary to demonstrate that under his reign the South was meant to be one unified province. Despite all the tribes in the South, only one person would represent the South. The emissary, chosen from one of the most influential families, would then be promoted to Governor of the South. This would allow Meanas to have one sole correspondent in political and economic matters regarding the South. However, Cynan had no intention in sharing this intention with Zelina, who was herself from an affluent family from the South. However, her family belonged to another tribe. Cynan never investigated further the intrications between the southern tribes. Now that Zelina had returned, he realized how foolish that had been.

Zelina stood up to leave Cynan to his thoughts.

“Why did he not invite me, Cynan?” she asked.

Cynan did not answer nor did he accompany her. The question floated in the air unanswered.

Through his office windows, he caught a glimpse of her crossing the gardens. She passed by a lilac bush. She stopped in her tracks, turned and contemplated the bare branches, noticing the growing flower buds. Cynan continued to observe her as she took off again. His gaze returned towards the lilac bush. With the mild season approaching the bush would bloom again.

***7 years ago***

“Gardening really?” Zelina asked as she had stopped on the path leading towards the mansion. She made her umbrella twirl as she thought about what Cynan had just shared with her.

Cynan carressed the lilacs and smiled lost in his thoughts.

“There is nothing more beautiful than helping mother nature in her creations,” he explained.

Zelina shrugged her shoulders unimpressed by his wise words.

“If I weren’t a noble then I would have become a farmer. However since I am a noble, I have to satisfy myself with mere gardening,” Cynan continued explaining.

Zelina twirled her umbrella once more and peered at him through the laces.

“If I were not a noble, I would not exist as I am before you. I have used over and over again all the privileges that have come with my status to build myself. I clung myself to anything a noble like me could get their hands on. Wishing to escape this world that created me would be idiotic and would turn my life into something insignificant, where I could not be the fully fledge me,”

Cynan listened to her attentively and did not respond immediately.

“I did not know you had such strong opinions about your title. Our aspirations vary a lot,” He finally said.

“And yet we somehow get along,” Zelina added.

A smirk appeared on her face.

“If I ever find myself in dire need of a gardener, I know to whom I can turn to. I’ll make sure to order my lilacs with you,” Zelina said as she made her way back towards the mansion twirling her umbrella.

Cynan bowed excessively. “You are too kind Madam,” he whispered.

***Back to the present. In Zelina’s coach***

“He called me Madam. How monstrous! Poor soul, he does not know what awaits him. Ugh, now I must wait for all of this to stir and boil. Let my words sink in. I must get under his skin. If only Cynan would have more spark then I would not have to wait so much. The day Cynan bursts will be one to remember. I must ensure to be the one to wake the dragon sleeping in him. But that would be only a collateral benefit from what I truly intend to achieve.

#own writing #my story

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