#it got longer than i expected sorry!!

[crybaby-bkg]

“I’m terrified of trying those hitachi wands,” you offhandedly mention one night in a quiet laugh, while laying in bed beside Bakugou. you’re both on your phones, one last scroll before bed, even though he’s actually playing one of those old people games. he looks over, hair pushed back by a clip he stole from you.

“Why would you be scared?” he asks you, completes the last two moves of the game before he closes his phone and sets it on the table beside the bed. he turns all of his attention on you then, rolling over to his side to face you, and you do the same.

“Because those things are damn near weapons with how they render people useless for like, twenty minutes after they cum.” you snicker, thinking back on the video you had seen earlier in the day. the lady damn near ruined her phone with the wetness, and could hardly move for a good minute after.

Bakugou only stares at you, doesn’t say anything for a long while, but he has this look on his face. he’s thinking about something, but doesn’t open his mouth until he’s whispering,

“That’s crazy,” he kisses your forehead and mumbles an I love you before he rolls over and pulls the covers to his head. you only blink in confusion before you chalk it up to him being the shy little prude he’s always been, and lay down yourself.

the conversation goes forgotten as the weeks pass on, something you don’t dwell on much afterwards. but obviously, it hasn’t passed Bakugou’s mind at all.

“I got it in pink.” he tells you one night after he’s wined and dined you. that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him, but what was weird was how jittery he had been the entire time. this was why, surely, when he leads you to the bedroom and opens a neat little box with one of those wands you had completely forgotten about sitting prettily in front of you.

“Katsuki!” you laugh, hands covering your mouth before they cover your eyes in a mix of shame and shyness. “Why do you wanna see me laid out and twitching after using that thing?” you softly punch his shoulder, looking between his reddened cheeks and the wand he holds in front of you like an engagement ring.

“It’ll be hot.” he shrugs, mouth twisting this way and that in uncertainty, before he looks at you from under his lashes. “Wanna try it out?”

“Of course I do.” you answer back just as quickly, stripping from your clothes even quicker. it makes Bakugou laugh, taking his shirt off and his pants too, just to be safe in case you become a slash zone.

he tries it first with him sitting between your legs, just holding the wand there. he looks between your legs and then to your eyes, starting on a low setting and watches how you twist and thrive in the silken sheets. and when you cum, he thinks he can push you a little further.

he ups the vibrations, adds two of his fingers inside of you, crooking them until he finds that soft spot inside of you that makes you absolutely sob. you squirt all over him and he wonders if he should take his boxers off too (he doesn’t though; the thought of finding them tomorrow stained in you makes him damn near burst in his pants).

the next position is in front of your mirror on the closet, with your legs spread over his. Bakugou hooks his chin over your shoulder, holds your twitching thighs open as he keeps turning the vibrations up to the highest settings. you’re squirming and whining and whimpering for mercy, even though you cry even more whenever he stops.

the next time and the next time and the next, he’s got more fingers inside of you, his cock, another one of your favorite toys. he sets you in doggy style, even though he doesn’t fuck you, but keeps the wand between your legs. he likes the way your entire body shakes beneath him, collapsing, trapped between his weight and the strong vibrations that send you into another dimension.

the next day, you can barely feel between your legs, shaky and unstable for the whole day. but Bakugou makes up for it; he always does.

[im-the-queen-of-stardust]

You ever think about Jon and and what it means to be human?

You ever think about how small he sounded when he asked Elias if he's still human. How much terror there was in his voice when he realised he recorded a statement that was written in a language he didn't speak. How he tried to deny it when he first Knew something.

You ever think about him being not quite human enough to die, but still too human to survive.

You ever think about how much he didn't want to stop taking statements, how good it felt when he did. How he knew it was wrong but how he desperately still wanted it.

You ever think about how frustrated he became that he's still feeling things, that he hasn't become a monster like all the other avatars, who enjoy feeding fear to their patrons, who revel in it and he's still a monster that cares.

You ever think about that time Jon went to Helen to ask when he would become that way, when he'd finally loose the last scraps of the humanity that he has left and she told him anytime. Anytime you want to, Jon.

You ever think about the way Jon laughed when the eye opened. How he sounded so triumphant and defeated at once. How he told Martin that he wished it felt horrible that he Saw and Felt everything.

You ever think about him sleeping with his eyes open. How he felt faint and less focused when outside the Eye's vision, how he forgot everything that happened at Salesa's safe house.

You ever think about how he held so much power. The power to See and Know basically everything and he purposefully held back about Looking at Martin, Basira, Helen, because that's just the decent thing to do.

You ever think about how much it hurt him to be the catalyst for the apocalypse, how much guilt he felt over that to the point that the thought of another having to go through the same thing was unbereable to him. He was prepared to let everyone die, to stand as king over a barren world, to go behind his love's, his anchor's back because he couldn't let there be even a tiny chance that somebody would have to suffer like he did.

You ever think about how on every step of the way they tried to rip his humanity away. To make him the monster he believed himself to be. How his humanity caused him nothing but grief and hurt but also love. How he clung to it, how he kept his humanity deep within himself and never gave it up. How it would have been so easy to do so. And so hard at the same time. How despite everything, Jon remained so human throughout it all?

[yassentheassassin]

miguel is a character that is so dear to my heart and i'll always always defend him, not everything he's ever done because yes you have to acknowledge he's done shitty things and hurt people but you don't even have to look much beyond the surface to see why he's the way he is and acknowledge how him wanting to be better is a strong display of resilience and bravery and belief in himself even if he can't see it

you can see how good he is at his core because even once he's drugged and threatened and physically changed to the point where half is dna isn't even human anymore, he drags himself up every morning and through his self hatred and trauma and mental illness he wants to be better and do better, and that despite being told from a very young age who and what he has to be, and that being one man's father means he's inherently doomed to end up like him, he takes this chance he has to do good and he tries with everything he has left in him to be something better than what has been expected of him - by the end of the first comic run he's able to finally see and say out loud that he isn't anything like his father(s), that he will do things to help people that tyler would never consider doing, would most likely push back against

to say miguel is an irredeemable bad man is falling into the same trap miguel himself has been in, to only see the ways in which he's acted poorly or hurt people in the past instead of also seeing everything that's working against him and the positive things he chooses to do despite them

to say miguel is an irredeemable bad man is also to say that trying to be better is worth nothing because you can never be better

through the darkness and pain in his mind miguel pushes through and takes step after step to be better, no matter how big or small those steps are from day to day he still takes them, sometimes he has someone to take his hand and help him keep going and sometimes he doesn't but either way he keeps going, he keeps living, he keeps trying despite all the internal and external voices that tell him he can't be anything more than he was made to be by his abusers

miguel o'hara is so so special to me

[its-your-mind]

Chronic pain Ashton actually means everything to me. This punk rock literally went through more awful shit before the age of ten than most people will deal with in their entire lives. And then they turned into a FUCKING rock.

Raised in an overpacked orphanage, given the same last name as everyone else as a strange unifier. These people aren’t family, but they do share a surname and a piece of their history. In the end though, Ashton’s just one small hungry face among dozens. Alone even when in the crowd.

When he woke up one day and his whole body felt Wrong, felt hard and rough, and calcified like they had spent too much time out in the cold without water, do you think he told anyone at first? Do you think anyone with the power to help would have even cared?

I wonder if it ever stopped feeling uncomfortable to them, or if there’s always this underlying sense that one wrong move will send cracks up their whole body.

Then they’re out, and they finally found people they could rely on, a family that cared about him, not because of obligation, but because he was like them, and because he had strength and skills they needed.

His new family is united by their insignificance, and determined to stick it to everyone whose greed hurts other people like them, the ones left behind, the nobodies. Ashton learns what it really means to fight and to bleed for the people you love. He learns to take his pain and his anger and pours it into protecting his family.

And then. The heist that changed everything. Broke into the wrong house, opened the wrong box, and suddenly… a whole new level of pain, beyond anything they’ve felt before. Broken memories. Flying backwards. Crashing through a window. Falling, falling, falling, then… black. Pain. Flashes of light, of noise. Pain. “He’s dead.” Laying on a stone path. “Just leave em.” Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain.

Milo’s voice. “C’mon, please wake up please, I don’t know what else to do…” and then… ice in their veins. Fireworks going off inside their head. And then… they black out again.

They come back slowly, and it’s not their senses that come back first. The first thing that tells him he’s awake is a shooting pain all up and down his arm, branching like cracks through stone. It feels as bad as the little voice in the back of his mind always told him it would. His whole left side feels… shattered. Broken. He’s certain that when he opens his eyes, he’ll see pieces of himself lying around him.

A flash, as though someone fired a blowtorch at close range toward his head. Another, slightly to the right of the first. And now that they’re aware of it, they can’t stop feeling it. It’s like the worst cluster headache they’ve ever felt, multiplied by a dozen by the burn of each pulse of energy.

Well, if he’s feeling pain, that probably means he’s not dead. They blink open their eyes and move to stand. His arm is still there, so that’s good. They begin to use it to push themself up…

*Crack*

They feel the powerful release of pressure more than they hear it. It travels from their shoulder all the way down to the tips of their fingers and then back.

“Gah, FUCKING SHIT.” They collapse back down to the table they were lying on.

“Ashton? Ashton! You’re awake! Don’t move, don’t move, you’re safe, you’re okay!”

It’s only now that they look around and realize where they are. Their vision feels… off somehow, but they can see it now. Milo’s workshop. They’ve cleared their worktable, and he’s lying on top of it. He turns his head to see where their voice is coming from and… FUCK.

“Don’t… don’t move too much. You’re uhh… you’re hurt real bad.” Milo rushes over from wherever they were and hovers behind his head. “How are… how do you feel?”

“Like hot fucking garbage. What… what the fuck happened to me? Fuck, that hurts.”

“The last job it went… bad. Real bad. You took… you took a pretty big fall, all the way from the top of the mansion.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, well. Let’s check out the fucking damage.”

“No Ashton wait, you need to rest, lay back down…”

They ignore them as they push themself up again… fuck that hurts, but at least they know to expect it this time. They cautiously put their weight on their right foot, then their left. A similar crack as before sends pain up their leg to their hip, and they buckle, grabbing their head as it sparks again.

“Ashton please wait. Please, just take a second to… to catch your breath, at least…”

“Fuck. No. I’m fine, I’m good, I can fucking do this.”

He stumbles over to a big, shiny sheet of metal that Milo’s got hung up for some project or other, and looks at his warped reflection.

“Milo… what the fuck.”

“I… I… I did everything I could, but I’m not a medic, Ashton. I work with metal though, and… and with stone, sometimes, so… I melted down the gold we made on our last job and um… I sealed the cracks. In your skin, I mean. I had no clue if it would work; I didn’t even know if your skin works like normal stone, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

Ashton holds up their hand to their face. Zigzagging along the cracks in his skin, he sees gold, sealing the stone of his flesh back together. He runs the fingers of his other hand up his arm. It’s… huh. They’re used to their skin feeling… alien. Wrong. Not their own. But this is… this one’s new.

Even as he’s thinking that, another flash goes off in his skull, and this time, he sees it in his reflection. “What the fuck…”

They lean close, and when another spark lights up, he can see… through his own head. What the fuck, he can see his brain. It’s distorted, though they can’t tell if that’s because of the imperfections in the metal or because of what Milo used to patch them up.

“Yeah that… that I was less sure of. There was… a hole smashed in your head, Ashton. Too big to fill in with gold. Eventually I was able to fill it in and cover it up with slag glass - I had to do the same thing with your eye.”

And as soon as they say that, Ashton can pin down what’s wrong with their vision. The depth of everything feels wrong, and he can’t see anything on his left side.

“…fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck Milo, you… you saved my life. I… wait. What the fuck happened to the others.”

Milo flinches, and Ashton prepares for the worst. “They… they all ran. Out of the city. We were seen, and…”

“And they figured I wouldn’t fucking make it anyway. Right. So why the fuck are you still here?”

“Ashton I… I wasn’t just going to leave you. Not while there was still a chance to save you.”

They don’t know what to say to that. And so, they pull their shit together, and as soon as they’re confident they won’t collapse on the way, they go back to Hexum’s. He takes on the debt that everyone else was too smart to stay for. He doesn’t tell her about Milo.

They take on easy jobs for a while. They recover, as much as they can. Eventually, it becomes pretty obvious that this… these golden cracks, the hole in their head, the fireworks inside their fucking skull… this is just how things are now.

So he does what he did before. He fucking adjusts. He’d had to get used to discomfort and pain of stone skin; now these harsh cracks become a part of that alien background sensation. The fireworks go off when he gets in a fight, so they learn to channel that sharp pain into every swing of their hammer. This new pain joins the rest in the background noise of his life.

And so, just like he always does, he keeps fucking going. They wear their scars proudly, on display for everyone. They hold their head, cracks and all, high. They say look at me. I’ve already been the collateral damage of an uncontrolled elemental ritual. I’ve been thrown backwards out of a tower and left for dead. You think you scare me? Get in line. I’ve seen shit that would scare your nightmares. You think you’re stronger than me? Two seconds in my body would have you curled up in a ball on the floor. You wanna fuck with me? Just don’t.

[mono-blogs-art]

Tsukutabe Vol 3 English Release, A Review!

A few days ago I was finally able to get my hands on the long awaited third volume of the Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna (She Loves to Cook, and She Loves to Eat) manga! Here are some of my thoughts - first, no spoilers, and then under a readmore I'll discuss some specific scenes I really liked.

I was very excited to finally read ahead - since the TV live action adaptation covers the same plot points as the first two volumes of the manga, and since there are basically 0 spoilers floating over from the jp fandom into my periphery, I truly had no idea where it was going. And what can I say but it was an absolute delight.

Like in volume 2, we are keeping a balance of the silly, everyday life of Nomoto & Kasuga and their cooking adventures, interspersed with quite serious, even dark moments in their personal lives. In fact, this volume features probably the darkest scenes in the series yet, more on that in the spoiler section later, but I truly had tears in my eyes for a bit. However I love how the focus when discussing these serious topics is always on the character and their feelings in the moment - how they can recognize what's been in their past, and how they've been able to move on and find happiness again, expressing a desire to do so. They've been hurt in their lives - mostly by their families that they've left behind, or by coworkers and strangers - but they are allowed to work through those feelings, take no shit, and say "No, I deserve better than this." There's also more focus again on LGBT advocacy now, with Nomoto coming out (to herself) at the end of volume 2, we now see her try to get comfortable with the lesbian label and how it affects her. There's also discussion on asexuality and its many shades, which I really appreciated!

The biggest change in volume 3 is the addition of two new characters - Yako-san, one of Nomoto's online friends who starts to become a bigger part of her life when Nomoto starts opening up about her sexuality; and Nagumo Sena, who is their "middle neighbor", the person who moved into the apartment between Nomoto & Kasuga that's been empty for the previous two volumes. Nagumo starts to befriend Kasuga when the two have a run-in. So a lot of the volume we actually see the two new pairs interact, and the focus is away from our main couple for a bit (but not really). Rather than new side characters, Yako and Sena feel more like an extension of the main cast, an extension of their little family, and they are immediately likeable and mash well with the rest. Speaking of family, although it's been a theme before, volume 3 really makes the central theme of "found family" very explicit. And it really warms the heart.

And my favourite part, without giving too much away, Kasuga also again receives chapters with her as the protagonist, rather than having Nomoto be the narrator all the time. This is actually the only thing I really miss in the TV live action, there are only a couple of scenes in there where you can see Kasuga's train of thoughts. The manga gives you much more insight into her inner workings. I'm hoping this will change for season 2 of the show, especially knowing what's in store.

Overall, the third volume brings a lot of fresh turns but stays true to its vibe and feel at heart. And of course it doesn't forget that there's also a love story, with Nomoto & Kasuga inching ever closer to each other. But I think this volume is where the story makes a point to say, Hey, This Isn't A Romance Series - it's a series about healing from past trauma, family, and especially found family, tackling everyday misogyny and homophobia, and all that through the very mundane task of cooking. I can't wait for volume 4 to come out, and season 2 of the live action series of course!!

The biggest thing I wanted to talk about was the conversation Kasuga has with her father on the phone. It's just so fucked up. We've only seen her family in flashbacks up until now, and reading the conversation between the two of them shows how far Kasuga has come in the 10 years since she's left home. Unlike Nomoto, who has a rocky relationship with her family but still keeps in contact, Kasuga has cut herself completely off since she left, and her views on family are central to her storyline. She wants to eat whatever she likes and not be shamed for it, own the things she wants, live in her own space, work a job that she choses. She wants to be herself.

At the same time, Kasuga is also the most family-oriented character. She loves to take care of others, make them feel at home and feel included, and she wants others to care for her too, unconditionally. When she thinks about what she values about "family", and the things she desires, there's only one logical conclusion to come to.

Kasuga's ties to her family also make her the perfect person to bring in Sena to the group. Sena is the total opposite of Kasuga, yet they're able to connect because of their shared traumas connected to food and family. When Kasuga bluntly accepts Sena without a second thought, the two really start to connect and it was just so sweet. Sena's whole backstory really touched me a lot and I definitely cried xD

These are the main two things I really couldn't wait to talk about!!! I really love Sena a lot and I'm excited to see more of her in the next volume. It's also very funny that it takes her, what, a single evening to immediately get that Nomoto and Kasuga have mutual crushes on each other, lmao.

The other new character, Yako-san, is also really fun. She's the confident, take-no-bullshit counterpart to Nomoto, and she proudly identifies as both a lesbian and asexual. Apart from that, we haven't seen much of her and her backstory yet - I'm hoping there'll be more in the future, especially with her in parallel to the main romance (idk if she's also aromantic, but it might be hinted at already?). I can't wait to see!

Those are some assorted thoughts... I really love this series and I appreciate it for the simple yet concise storytelling, and the love Yuzaki-san puts into her characters. They feel like real people, reflecting real insecurities and problems you'd run into in real life, even when it's exaggerated in a comedic manner. Can't wait to see where it goes next!!

[cryptids]

Thinking about that one post with a stick figure type drawing of someone trying to add a chunk of butter to some brussel sprouts about to be cooked while their dad stands there watching them and its like "my dad wanting the brussel sprouts to be healthy vs me wanting them to fuck severely" or something of the sort jkdjfsdjs, and there's a comment chain of well-meaning people trying to explain that butter in moderation isn't bad for you and won't damage or take away any of the brussel sprouts' nutritional content, so its fine to do and won't make them less healthy.

But I think all of the commenters are misunderstanding that a huge amount of people (especially ones around most of our parents' age honestly) aren't talking about nutrients at all when they say "healthy", what they actually mean is just "less fattening". Like they aren't worried that adding butter take nutrients away from the food, they think it will make it fattening because butter is fattening. And likewise when they say they want to eat healthier they don't mean they want to increase the nutritional value of their diet, they mean they want to eat less fatty/oily/sugary things in order to lose weight.

The thing is that that the ideas of fat=bad and healthy=skinny (plus all of the misconceptions and scaremongering around which foods will make you fat and must be avoided as much as possible) are all just SO deeply ingrained in society. It's why people think adding a little butter to some vegetables to make them tastier will also make them "unhealthy", bc its a mindset much more based in fatphobia than in any actual science.

[whenim64]

What’re some of your fav monkees fics? :p

surprisingly I havent actually read that much monkees fanfic. when I first jumped into the fandom I read through all the jonesmith fics and when I ran out I switched from reading to writing, but I will list some of the ones I remember really loving!

Jonesmith:

Novelty Love Song with Bizarre Choreography

I'm Falling Again

Christmas Date and This Bouquet

Jolenz:

All That Glitters (this fic might be my all time fave)

Star Collector

Jork:

Kid’s Stuff

poly:

Just A Kiss

I have a lot of fics in my save for later/bookmarks that I plan to get to eventually (maybe I should do that soon). AND I didn't include this in my answer bc you are the one that asked so I didn't want to rec your fics to you but I really adore everything you've written, especially Sweet Young Thing

[byzantine-suggestions]

Friday Reviews: The Eagle and the Swan by Carol Strickland

Title: The Eagle and the Swan Author: Carol Strickland Year of Release: 2013 Star Rating: ⭐️⭐️

The Eagle and the Swan is an adult historical fiction book that details the story of Theodora’s life from her adolescence until the Nika riots. It’s narrated by an original character called Fabianus, an orphan who grew up alongside Theodora and eventually became a monk as an adult. When the story begins, Theodora is the Empress, and Fabianus is working on her staff as a scribe; the framing device of the novel is Theodora asking him to write down her biography. We see Theodora’s reign through Fabianus’s eyes as he remembers their shared childhood, contemplates her current circumstances, and struggles to manage his lingering attraction to her while detailing her marriage to Justinian and her sexual encounters with other men.

Plot: 3/10.

God, where to start?

The most notable (though by no means only) issue with the story is the incessant love triangle between Theodora, Justinian, and Fabianus, which begins on page one and persists until the very end of the novel. Fabianus is a character type I’ve really come to dislike—he’s a childhood friend of Theodora, he witnessed her impressive climb from courtesan to Empress, and he’s been rewarded for his friendship with a prominent position on her staff, but he still harbors secret jealousy that she chose Justinian over him, and he spends much of his time pondering what his life with Theodora would have looked like if she hadn’t blundered into Imperial purple. Fabianus and Theodora mutually wonder what could have been, and there’s kind of a baked-in assumption that they would have gotten together if their circumstances were just a little different. There are also strong implications that Fabianus is, in some ways, a better match for Theodora than Justinian; Justinian is insecure, mildly controlling, and too preoccupied with work to be there for his family, while Fabianus is endlessly devoted to Theodora, even though he finds her “chatter” annoying. This exact subplot—the unlucky childhood friend who lost their crush to the Emperor, the faint implication that Theodora would have been happier if she chose love over luxury, and the the ‘nice guys finish last’ theme—appears in about half a dozen Theodora Novels, and I hate it (almost) every time. It’s especially egregious here, though, because it dominates the entire narrative from beginning to end, and it comes to a climax in the middle of the Nika riots, when Theodora and Fabianus contemplate running away together and leaving Justinian to his fate. I’ll talk more about the implications of that in the “characterization” section, but plot-wise, I feel that it was a bad decision to drag romantic drama into a politically tense scene, and it was also a bad decision to undermine Justinian and Theodora’s actual romance by giving her this bizarre, semi-romantic friendship with Fabianus that’s never fully resolved.

There’s also a lengthy and very confusing subplot concerning Theodora’s daughter, whom the author has inexplicably named “Errata” (!!!) Like the Fabianus subplot, the Errata subplot lasts way too long, pops up frequently at inappropriate times, and undermines critical aspects of Theodora’s character. The reader doesn’t actually see Errata’s conception or birth—we’re told, years after the fact, that she was born when Theodora was about sixteen, and that her father is a famous charioteer named Apollo. Apollo is a remarkably loving father, considering the time period. Theodora is the worst mother on the planet. She leaves Errata on Comito’s doorstep so she can sail to Africa with Hecebolus; she brags that Errata’s father is a wealthy charioteer, but she seems completely disinterested in Errata herself; she pushes Errata away as soon as she marries Justinian, because suddenly Errata is an embarrassment, and she lashes out at Comito when Comito becomes upset about Errata’s treatment. Then she decides in a fit of insecurity that she wants a male grandson, preferably right the fuck now, so she forcibly marries a very unwilling and very young Errata to Germanus’s son Justin, who’s depicted as a cartoonishly evil bully and casual rapist. Theodora says that this is okay because Justin is good-looking. Of course, this goes terribly, and Errata dies in childbirth. This whole subplot was so unnecessary—it makes Theodora seem like a a cruel, shallow hypocrite with no self-awareness at all, it completely derails her character arc about helping disadvantaged women, and it’s also historically inaccurate, because her real-life daughter never married Justin (and I don’t think there’s good evidence that her daughter died in childbirth, either). I just don’t understand why this was included. It accomplishes nothing other than making Theodora look ludicrously short-sighted and heartless.

Aside from those two major sticking points, there are a handful of other, smaller problems. Theodora has a harem of admirers, including Germanus, Hecebolus, Apollo, and John the Cappadocian, all vying for her affection both before and after her wedding and coronation. Justinian is insecure about this (perhaps understandably, considering how many boundaries Theodora and Fabianus cross as they sort out their own love triangle). John the Cappadocian is depicted as a serial sexual predator who stalks and harasses Theodora even after she becomes Empress, and Justinian never does anything about this, which is ridiculous. The non-love-triangle aspects of the story are better—the non-romance plot hits just about every beat you would expect from a Theodora story—but it stops at the Nika riots, and it never gives us a glimpse of Theodora’s later years as Empress, which is a shame. I normally wouldn’t mind this, because I think it’s fair for an author to decide that some events are just out of the scope of their story. But in the case of The Eagle and the Swan, the author’s choice to stop at Nika reads as odd, because so many things could have been cut to make room for the later years of Theodora’s life (did we really need that many love triangles? No. We did not. Cut that shit out and give us the plague!). The ending comes across as a bit sudden and strange, and the suspense of the riots is undercut by the constant romantic drama that permeates absolutely everything in this book. Compared to some of the other plotlines, the Nika arc isn’t bad, but it could have been done better, and it deserved to be treated with more gravitas. It should not have been used as the backdrop for the climax of a love triangle subplot.

Characterization: 2/10.

This section also ended up being longer than I wanted it to be, because boy is there a lot to say.

Theodora’s characterization is all over the place here. She’s very giggly and silly and short-sighted, but also extremely power-hungry, and you kind of end up with the impression that she’s exactly who Procopius claimed she was—a prostitute desperate for authority she has no idea how to handle. She plays juvenile pranks on people, she chatters incessantly about makeup and gossip and boys, she talks loudly and frankly about her sex life in completely inappropriate settings, and most of her interactions with Justinian consist of her pouting sweetly and taking off her clothes so he’ll let her get away with things. Her contributions to his reign are downplayed to a ridiculous extent—the word “Monophysite” appears exactly twice in the whole story, if that’s any indication of how much focus her religious views receive. The establishment of her convent, and her dedication to improving the lives of the women housed there, is given a brief mention. Meanwhile, the plotline where she sells her own daughter to a rapist goes on for multiple chapters. When her daughter comes to her crying over being raped on her wedding night, she shrugs it off and tells her to lay back and think of England (or, well, “think pleasant thoughts.” It’s the same sentiment.) She says that nobody expects a husband to be perfect—“that’s why men have concubines, and women have children to occupy them.” Can you see Theodora, wife of Justinian I, casually subjecting her daughter to violent rape and declaring that marriage is a crapshoot? I can’t!

Really, though, the greatest problem with Theodora is that she’s just annoying here. She’s a terrible mother to Errata, she isn’t a very good wife to Justinian (in large part because she spends huge swathes of time flirting with Fabianus), and she’s completely ungrateful for Comito (and all of her other friends, including Antonina). She talks about her beauty regime, and her abortions, and her sex life, absolutely nonstop. Keep in mind, too, that I’m not offended by her mentioning abortions or sex—but the way she speaks about these extremely intimate events is unbelievably stilted and strange, and she often brings them up apropos of nothing. She seems to enjoy shocking people by putting on graphic sexual displays, wearing see-through clothing in public, and loudly bragging about her sins, but then she balks when her daughter suggests that maybe they can buck tradition by not tolerating rape and spousal abuse. You get the impression that she enjoys foregoing tradition for the shock factor, but is completely disinterested in effecting any actual change. When she makes her big Nika speech, it comes completely out-of-left-field, because this version of Theodora does not seem capable of taking that kind of decisive action. And, again, her entire Nika speech is made very insincere-sounding by the fact that she considered running away too—and leaving Justinian behind! This is a strange depiction of her that I have to assume the author didn’t know the full story of her reign. How do you read about Theodora and come up with this kind of personality for her?

As for the other characters, Justinian is marginally better than Theodora, marginally. They have a very uncomfortable dynamic in this story; the age gap between them is enormously apparent, and he often seems more like her father than her husband. He seems continuously baffled by Theodora’s behavior, he’s totally disinterested in her hobbies, and he often sets (reasonable) rules for her, which she refuses to follow out of some teenager-like desire to rebel against authority. At one point, he walks in on Theodora literally playing pretend with her staff, and he just shakes his head and says “you’re so young,” which is a perfect microcosm of their relationship here. Aside from his odd, fatherly attitude towards his wife, Justinian is also extremely insecure, and he spends much of the story spiraling into paranoia about Theodora’s loyalty to him (or lack thereof). This is meant to come across as unreasonable, but Theodora has such a weird, flirtatious friendship with Fabianus that Justinian’s concerns seem entirely warranted. Justinian is also an unabashed workaholic, and his work clearly takes priority over his relationship with Theodora, making Fabianus seem like a more desirable romantic option. Honestly, though, the numerous scenes where Justinian stresses about work while Theodora babbles on about some inane, meaningless topic (usually her own beauty, or her boredom, or her sex life), only serve to highlight Theodora’s bizarrely shallow characterization. I mean, look at her dialogue!

Fabianus, you can’t imagine how laborious it is to keep up one’s beauty. You just hop out of bed and you’re handsome as can be. For me, it takes two hours to dress my hair. And the potions to keep it shiny! They say I’ve made a ritual of my bath. Well, you would too if every day you had to smear egg yolks into your hair, then rinse with lavender water. Every night slaves brush my hair until it shines, and if too many hairs fall out, I use more egg yolks the next day. The tedium of sitting in front of the mirror while servants do my makeup! Just choosing which jewels to wear is a chore. At least I have Narses to read to me from the Classics while I endure the preparations. When he read the end of Antigone, what a jolt! How could Antigone be so cruelly punished for obeying the gods? My maid had to stop applying kohl while I recovered; black drops were seeping from my eyes. Narses, the dear man, is always thinking of new trinkets. He loves to dress me like a doll. It was his idea to have a gold and crystal diadem made that looks like a halo. Did you see how the nobles gasped? ‘The effrontery!’ I live to shock them.

Now juxtapose that against Justinian’s dialogue:

Here I confess the affair of Vitalian, who was our most formidable threat. We had to be shrewd when dealing with him, a bold general whose orthodoxy won him many fans. Most, in fact, considered him the foremost champion of Chalcedon, surpassing even Uncle and myself. Some acknowledge Vitalian’s barbarian blood. Those high cheekbones and that fair hair indisputably betray Gothic lineage. Despite his crudity and over-abundance of unruly hair, people call him handsome, even ‘a hero of the True Faith’. As if being a ruthless warrior, well-muscled and possessed of flowing blond hair makes him tower over the real defenders of Romania! […] Vitalian, you’ll recall, rebelled against the crown when our predecessor Emperor Anastasius deposed his godfather, Flavian, the patriarch of Antioch, on account of his Chalcedonian sympathies. Anastasius installed a heretic instead, that blasted Severus, to which Vitalian took umbrage. This hairy Goth styled himself as a champion of the masses. The benighted plebes saw his revolt as a crusade for religious purity. You would think they’d be similarly receptive to my crusade, but never mind…

Why is Justinian worrying about Vitalian while Theodora whines about her haircare routine? Why isn’t Theodora involved in any of these discussions? What is Theodora doing with her time?! Of course she’s bored! There’s a rich tapestry of intrigue unfolding before her eyes, but all she cares about is her hair! Why would you write her like this?!

Anyway, enough about Theodora. She’s awful here, but the most obnoxious character is by far Fabianus, the Nice Guy monk who serves as the story’s narrator. Fabianus was friends with Theodora as a child, and he’s still carrying a torch for her as an adult, although their relationship is complicated by the fact that Theodora is married and Fabianus is celibate. Fabianus is enormously jealous of Theodora’s lovers and close male friends—especially Apollo, her charioteer ex-boyfriend; Justinian, her current husband; and Narses, who has easier access to her than anybody else in the palace by virtue of being a.) a eunuch, and b.) her close friend. Fabianus makes his envy crystal-clear:

Why women are prone to cherish muscular anatomy over artistic talent and sensitivity is an eternal mystery.

Theodora, meanwhile, seems to share at least some of Fabianus’s feelings. She never actually has an affair with him, but she spends most of the story crossing line after line with him, repeatedly engaging in activities that are technically not cheating but very close to it. When Fabianus offers to run away with her during the Nika riots, she doesn’t say yes—but she contemplates it. Honestly, I hate Fabianus. He’s obsessed with Theodora in a very shallow way, he doesn’t know when to stop, and he gets aroused at the most inappropriate anecdotes (like a story about Theodora’s late father giving her plums… why is that sexy? She was a little child at the time!) His entire character is pointless, and his mess of a romance with Theodora adds nothing to the story. Theodora’s real life was dramatic enough—there was no need to give her a forbidden love with a monk to up the ante even more. She was a prostitute who married an emperor! Isn’t that enough forbidden love for you?

I will say, though, that there were some characters I did like. Belisarius’s depiction is fine—he doesn’t appear too often, but there’s nothing wrong with him when he does show up. Narses is quite likable, even though the narrative inexplicably portrays him as Theodora’s fashion-obsessed, stereotypically gay best friend. (Need I remind you that Narses was a general in real life? I doubt he was slinking around Theodora’s bedroom picking out dresses and jewelry for her, and ignoring all of the political turmoil happening around him.) The real star of the show, though, is Comito. Poor Comito is the sole voice of reason in Theodora’s life—she supports Theodora endlessly without complaint, she’s more or less Errata’s adoptive mother, and she’s the only woman in the story who isn’t cripplingly obsessed with boyfriend drama (although she also gets a love triangle—she’s courting Theodora’s baby daddy Apollo at the same time as Sittas, although she at least has the decency to be subtle with her affairs). Theodora, of course, acts like an ungrateful brat towards Comito, ignoring her kindness and dismissing her suggestions. Frankly, the writer should have swapped Theodora and Comito’s personalities. I can envision this version of Comito leading an empire, while I can’t say the same for this version of Theodora.

Writing: 3/10.

The framing device of the novel is Theodora enlisting Fabianus to chronicle her life, largely because she feels that Procopius is slandering her in his account of her reign. Therefore, most of the novel consists of Fabianus’s descriptions of anecdotes Theodora has either told him directly or mentioned in front of him, plus the occasional first-person letter written by Theodora herself. This framing device makes for some pretty awkward dialogue—there are entire scenes where Theodora does nothing but retell stories from her childhood in a very stilted, dramatic way, and Fabianus reacts with either boredom or arousal depending on the topic.

Theodora, devoid of modesty, went on with the story. “I liked best to be with my dear, dear father.” She leaned back, giving herself over to languor. “When I snuggled in his arms, he gave me plums. They exploded in my mouth, and sweet, sticky juice would run down my chin.” My hand gripped the quill so firmly, I almost broke it.

Personally, I would rather read a straightforward, firsthand account of Theodora’s life than an awkward, melodramatic summary of Theodora’s life as detailed by a not-very-chaste monk.

The narrative that Fabianus is chronicling Theodora’s life because he wants to prevent her story from being corrupted by Procopius is a flawed premise in general, because some of the things Fabianus writes down are far worse than anything Procopius ever recorded. He carefully details Theodora’s first sexual experience, her first period, her abortions, her wedding night, her daughter’s rape, her daughter’s death, and her arguments with her sisters and her husband. He also describes Justinian and Theodora’s sexual encounters, and he does so quite graphically:

She put her arms around him. He kissed her long and hard, clinging to her. Theodora pressed her body against his, as if to freeze her force to his frame. He felt her nipples, hard as brass buttons, against his chest. A surge of blood rushed to his member and he spread her thighs with his knee.

If your friend—the wife of your reigning monarch!—asked you to chronicle her life for future historians, is this what you would write? The sex scenes in this story are questionable in general, but they’re especially squicky once you realize that you’re not reading some nameless narrator’s descriptions of what happened behind closed doors—you’re reading Fabianus’s descriptions of his friend and her husband having sex. Everything about this premise is uncomfortable.

Even disregarding the framing device and its many issues, the writing suffers in other ways, too. The exposition is done very poorly—characters routinely explain aspects of Byzantine life and culture to other Byzantine characters, using “as you know” and "as you recall" statements that sound unbelievably awkward in context. Imagine if I walked up to a fellow American friend and said “as you know, in America, children ride yellow buses to school,” and my friend nodded and said “yes, and we drink out of red Solo cups at parties, as you know.” That’s basically what Theodora and Comito are doing when they have repetitive conversations about how actresses are viewed negatively in Eastern Roman culture. Why would they be discussing this like tour guides introducing a foreigner to their customs if they both grew up in this environment and they know exactly how actresses are seen? They’re not the only characters who do this, either; Justinian also has long, exposition-laden monologues, as do many others. Some examples, because I really can't overstate how common this is:

We needed money and we were both quite pretty as you know. […] If you’re a baker’s child, you become a baker. My parents worked in the circus; what else could I do? Circus people, especially dancers and actresses, are prostitutes.

Your Grand Chamberlain Lisander, as you know, wanted Theocritus as Emperor.

As you know, Candidatus, art serves the Empire. This parable demonstrates to the illiterate how a man might ascend from the humblest origin to the pinnacle of power.

Vitalian, you’ll recall, rebelled against the crown when our predecessor Emperor Anastasius deposed his godfather, Flavian, the patriarch of Antioch, on account of his Chalcedonian sympathies.

Monologues and exposition aside, the pacing is also off. The book feels much longer than it is, probably because the romantic drama drags on for eons, stretching a concise narrative into hundreds of pages of love triangle discourse. The author’s descriptions and prose are fine, but not well-written enough to distract from the numerous other problems plaguing every line. Between the clunky exposition, unlikable characters, inauthentic dialogue, flawed framing device, and ever-present romantic drama distracting from more interesting events, this novel was very difficult for me to get invested in, and if I wasn’t writing this review, I probably wouldn’t have finished it at all.

Weirdness: 6/10.

Not as weird as some other Theodora stories, but still pretty weird. The entire plotline with Errata was certainly a choice. The massive love triangle was another choice. Also, Theodora and Justinian spend the Nika riots having sex? And he expresses some kind of deep-seated insecurity that he can’t ride horses like her former charioteer lovers? The city is burning! Why are you fucking! How are you fucking?! Wouldn’t the sound of your own citizens trying to set your palace on fire be the biggest turn-off in the world? It’s like Nero allegedly fiddling while Rome burns, but worse, and dumber. At least most authors don’t take the Nero story literally.

Historical accuracy: 4/10.

So many things wrong with this:

Theodora performs her Leda and the Swan act in the palace in front of all the noblewomen, which strikes me as unlikely—why would Juliana Anicia have wanted to see this? Would any respectable Byzantine woman have paid for and viewed live sex shows in her own home?

We see Justinian construct the Hagia Sophia before the Nika riots, and it’s implied that the riots destroyed the basilica he built. This was not the case; the riots destroyed the pre-existing Hagia Sophia, and Justinian rebuilt the church on the site.

The entire storyline with Errata is made up, obviously.

The love dodecahedron surrounding Theodora, with Justinian, Germanus, Fabianus, John the Cappadocian, and Apollo all vying for her affection, is also made up.

John the Cappadocian regularly harasses and gropes Theodora in her own palace and nobody does anything about this, which strikes me as unlikely; I’m about 110% sure that Justinian would have gone fucking ballistic if he walked in on his tax collector groping his wife.

Theodora and Justinian have a daughter named Sophia. Sophia’s birth and death are completely made up. (I have a hunch that the author mixed up the real empress Sophia’s parentage—Sophia was a daughter of Comito or Anastasia, not Theodora.)

The Mary Magdalene prostitute myth shows up more than once.

The portrayal of Byzantine culture seems a bit off in a couple of subtle ways. Christian characters seem a bit too comfortable with paganism, everyone is really into dream-based prophecy (every major event is preceded by either Justinian, Theodora, or Fabianus experiencing a prophetic dream, which they then interpret and draw conclusions from), their clothing doesn’t seem right (Theodora gets offended when she’s told not to wear sheer garments and see-through, lingerie-esque dresses in public), et cetera. These are minor things on their own, but together, they paint kind of a strange picture of Byzantine society.

That being said, the general timeline is fine. Events take place when they’re supposed to happen, the major political factions of the setting are correct (no Ottomans here!), and the characters don’t have access to any future technology a sixth-century Byzantine aristocrat wouldn’t have known about. That may seem like a low bar to cross, but trust me, it’s not.

Overall Quality: 3/10.

I did not like this one, I’m sorry. The characters are strange, Fabianus is unlikable, the dynamic between Justinian and Theodora is uncomfortable, and the book is just too long with too much love triangle filler. It’s better than some Theodora retellings, but leagues behind novels like Far Away Bird, Fortune’s Child/Too Soon the Night, The Secret History, and their kin. I’d recommend any of those books over The Eagle and the Swan any day (particularly Fortune’s Child, which has a similar premise, but is executed much better).

Ironic enjoyment: 2/10.

This one’s bad, but not in a fun way. It gets two points because there’s a passage where Antonina refers to Belisarius’s penis as “The Monster,” which made me cringe-laugh for five solid minutes.

Miscellaneous other notes:

There’s a sex scene where Justinian talks entirely in swan puns and asks if Theodora has eggs in her nest.

That’s it, that’s the only other note I have.

Final verdict

Just read Fortune’s Child.

[mississpissi]

im asking you to explain :mic: abby and her dad go

ok this all started w bulks post about “abby” meaning “father’s joy” and it got me thinking about the contrast between cecil’s relationship with his mom versus the relationship i imagine between abby and her dad. fair warning that this mostly exists in my head but u bet ur burger im still gonna try to back up my ideas w quotes from the text (AP lit and lang babey).

first of all, looking at cecil’s relationship with his mom is super important. one of the first things we hear about her is that she used to hide from cecil for days and that she covered all the mirrors in their house (33). she also tells cecil to “beware, be warned, be wary”, which she apparently says to everything and cecil interprets to mean that she’s proud of him. we also hear in “Homecoming” (55) that cecil looks forward to seeing his mom every year at the homecoming game and was disappointed when he wasn’t able to. in “It Sticks With You” (182), we learn their mother would take them into the woods and walk quickly, cecil saying, “I think she wanted to lose us in the shadowy labyrinth of tall trees.” she would leave flowers at the base of the same old tree every time. she would ignore cecil’s questions. in “Bedtime Story” (132), which im convinced is about cecil (but that’s another post), cecil says “he just wanted his mother to show interest in his curiosity.” and even if that story isn’t about him, it is a story his mother would tell him at night, one he never heard the end of. in the traffic section of “Pioneer Days” (143), cecil tells a story of a boy left behind, abandoned by his family, left with nothing but a snake. im also fairly certain this is about him (cecil loves to tell his own story without ever really telling it). 

most revealing is what cecil says in “Ghost Stories” about his mother and her death. we learn their mother left when cecil was 14 (whatever that means), that cecil “thought that Mom would be back at any moment, like maybe she was away on business. Or out for a walk. Or just hiding.” He says, “And Mom flew away, when all other defenses failed her.” we learn she returned many years later, sick and old and “sorry”. we learn that she died soon after in a way that was “mundane”, that cecil was at work when it happened. we learn that cecil mourned her passing.

all of this paints a picture of a relationship that was strained, full of pain, downright abusive. and we see cecil, as he does so often, retrofit this pain to be something more palatable. she was hiding because she was proud. she didn’t speak to him because she was focused on something else. her defenses had failed her. she was struggling with alcoholism and mental illness. she was playing a game. she covered the mirrors because of pride. she came back! her death was inevitable. he misses her. he grieves her. he loved her. she might have loved him. he makes excuses for her because to do anything else would be to admit that he had experienced immense pain- to re-experience this immense pain. better to change the story.

now abby. 

we don’t know nearly as much about abby as i wish we did. we know she “approach[es] life with a total practicality,” that she will save her pain for when she is in private (It Devours!). steve says, “With Abby around, I can't imagine a bad thing that could happen" (89). we know her relationship with cecil has been tumultuous, that she leaned on cecil and then on steve as she raised janice. in “Bedtime Story”, the sister in the story fought with her brother, telling him she hated him. “she would wrestle him to the ground and pull his hair.” after the boy is buried in the ground, the sister often visits the tree he becomes. she plants flowers, removes beatles from his bark, reads in his shade, plucks his fruit. she visits with a man and a child, visits with joy and with tears in turn. this sister, this abby mourns her brother and tries to protect him, fights with him, loves him. 

and, again, in “Ghost Stories”, we learn that abby was “reserved and controlling”, that she dropped out of college when their mom left to raise cecil, that she blamed him (that cecil blamed her for not being their mom). we learn that abby was there when their mother died, that her death prompted cecil and abby to reconcile their differences. we learn that cecil and abby are both haunted by their family. 

here’s where i diverge from what we really have. 

we haven’t really heard from abby. everything we know of her we’ve learned from cecil and steve. but i have to imagine she resented their mother, that she hardly wanted to drop her plans for her future to raise her younger brother.  i hardly have to imagine what it’s like to have that kind of responsibility thrust upon you when all you wanted was to live your own life. i have to imagine watching your mother die, your mother who just reentered your life after years of neglect, would hurt, would be complicated, would cut deep.

i imagine mr. and mrs. palmer bringing home their first born child, naming her “Abby”, naming her “father’s joy”, naming her after the pride that swelled in her father’s chest. i imagine mr. and mrs. palmer doing their best to raise their daughter in a town as hostile as night vale. i imagine them wanting a sibling for their daughter, someone to keep her company when they couldn’t. i imagine abby struggling with the idea for a moment, then embracing her brother wholeheartedly. i imagine mrs. palmer naming their son “Cecil”, naming him “blind”, naming him after the future she saw.

i imagine abby, her father’s joy, watching as he brought his son to “work in the pasture” with him (132). watching as her brother was injured by his curiosity, watching as her father avoided him in his anger. watching her mother hide from her brother. i imagine abby realizing she would have to be the one to patch him up, even while both parents were still home. i imagine abby hearing her father promise that he “would give [his] life for [his son]”, hearing him say her brother could never be a doctor because “he feared for the boy's future patients”. i imagine her wanting her father to offer his life for her, to invite her to the pasture. i imagine her becoming more reserved over time, realizing her brother needed more help and attention, willing to step into the background because she loved him, because she wanted to be strong for her family. i imagine her doing everything she could to live up to her name, to be someone worthy of the joy of her father.

i imagine abby, her father’s joy, watching him leave. maybe she knew why, maybe she was simply left. i imagine abby watching her mother slowly fall into paranoia and fear because of her brother, because of what she had seen. i imagine abby following her mother into the woods, placing flowers on the trunk of a tree she recognizes, trying to keep cecil distracted by playing a game with him. i imagine abby making sure cecil got to school, got food when their mother was hiding from him. i imagine abby finding out her mother too had left, left her with now full time responsibility for cecil. i imagine abby becoming controlling because she had to, because she had lost control over so many other aspects of her life. i imagine abby channeling what she could remember of her father, trying to be strong, reliable- ignoring that he had stopped being that very suddenly. i imagine abby yelling at a teenage cecil, telling herself that it was better than ignoring him like they had. i imagine abby finding out she was to become a mother, a mother without a father, a mother to a daughter who had more needs than she could handle on her own. i imagine abby finding a man who wanted to help, who could provide a stability cecil was unable to, for all his enthusiasm. i imagine abby, kicking her drunk brother she had raised out of her wedding, not willing to look him in the face for years without seeing her father, seeing her mother, seeing ghosts.

and i imagine abby listening to her brother describe their father on live radio. i imagine her cleaning up after the dinner steve made, hearing about a man with a “thin mouth… [and] threatening, beckoning eyes” (192). hearing about a man, their father, her father, going into the forest with a shovel, digging himself out of the ground. i wonder if she put the pieces together retroactively or if she’d had them all along. i imagine her waiting for the shower to cry. i imagine her hearing that cecil received a photograph of their father (201, 219). i wonder if she went to see it, if she was able to, if she even wanted to see it. i wonder if she listened in, checking that her brother was taking care of her daughter, only to hear that her father, the man who’s joy she had once been, was actually talking to cecil (224). i wonder if she wondered why he was reaching out to cecil and not her. i wonder if she called cecil after, or if she knew he meant it when he said, “I refuse to look into it further.” i wonder if she hopes that when cecil is made to remember their father, she gets to as well. i wonder how long she was her father’s joy, and how long she spent grieving whatever changed that.

most of all, i wonder if WE’RE EVER GONNA GET TO HEAR ABBY’S FUCKING VOICE!!

[sophieswundergarten]

So. Everyone who yelled at me yesterday for making a ramble on Reynie going blank and then not resolving it, this is for you: (@lemondropletters, you have been tagged)

Also, it's in a Google Doc because it was definitely too long for a Tumblr post, and ~~I don't know how AO3 works~~

The (vague) premise is that, instead of Constance seeing Curtain's broadcast, they all get to the compound mentally sound, but once there, they split up to look for Mr. Benedict, and instead Reynie finds Curtain. This is the wrap up of what would have happened in the last episode.

[loki-ioki]

“My name is.. Cynthia..

..Right?”

[akkrosu]

@ellaspore, I blame you entirely for this. How dare you give me the courage to express my thoughts openly. Consider this me shouting from the rooftops.

So, my music-obsessed brain has been sitting on a particular KinnPorsche moment for over a year now. So let me get crazy and belatedly add my own two cents to all the meta we already have for this show.

In episode 5, we had Kinn and Porsche trying to cope with their confusion over their first time in The Bathroom™ and their feelings for each other by making out with other people, Porsche at Yok’s bar and Kinn in his room. And the music (Volunteer by David Celeste, a composer I like about as much as the staff of many Thai BLs seem to) does something so wonderful in that moment to illustrate their feelings—especially Porsche’s—that I’m still gushing about it a year later.

The first interesting thing is that we start the scene in complete darkness, musically speaking. All we have is this simple and super vague piano melody. The first time I watched this scene I remember how unsettled the music made me feel because of how vague it is; I didn’t know how to understand or interpret it and the mood of the scene around it. And this is because there is something fundamental missing.

All the piano plays is fifths—first g and d in the first two measures, then d and a in the following. (I am aware that the last three bars of the transcription below make it a little more complicated because of that f# in the left hand, which means it’s not just fifths, but since this particular harmonic holds no value for what I’m about to write, I’ll just ignore it.) And it is important that they are fifths, because fifths are pretty much the backbone of any harmonic. They tell us some basics about the key we’re in and about the chords we’re using, which is important because these two things are what creates the mood of the entire piece.

The first five measures of the piece, which correspond to roughly 0:00 to 0:13 of the video linked above and about 21:11 to 21:23 of episode 5.

But we’re missing one fundamental factor to get clarification about the exact key and chords here: the third. In case you don’t know, every basic chord is made up of three notes: the base note, the third and the fifth. And the third is arguably the most important note of the chord—at least in our case—because it differentiates between a major and a minor chord.

Basically (and this is simplified quite a bit), every chord exists in two modes—major and minor. The only difference between them, musically speaking, is the third: in a major chord, the third is a major third, meaning it is four semitones up from the base note, whereas the minor chord has a minor third, which is three semitones up from the base note.

A little illustration of the construction of a basic chord (here C major) and the intervals between its notes.

What that means in practice is that the chords sound radically different. In general, major chords sound more upbeat, happy and positive, while minor chords have more of a somber, sad vibe to them. Feel free to listen to the demonstration below.

So, now that we have the basics of harmony out of the way—how in the world does this relate to the scene and KinnPorsche? Well, now that you understand why thirds are so important, you’ll also understand why the lack of a third is equally important. As I mentioned before, we start the scene and the piece with only fifths. Because we’re missing the third especially in the first chord (spanning the first two bars), we can’t determine the mode of the chord or the key of the entire piece, and so we’re ripped of any sort of understanding about the mood of the music and the scene. This creates a really unsettled and tense feeling and makes you think that’s what the characters are feeling. As we watch Porsche make out with that girl, the music tells us how uncertain he himself is of what he’s doing. He doesn’t know if he’s making the right choices. He’s walking a fine line of mental instability, yay.

As powerful as this lack of the third is, what’s even more powerful is when and how it finally does appear. Because it shows up in the exact instant that Porsche suddenly pauses and his mind flashes back to Kinn (~21:27 of the episode). And we get it in a very subtle, but elegant way: the strings, which were quietly reinforcing the fifths in the piano before, now add that third note to complete the first chord of the theme, the only chord we really need because it is the tonic (which makes it the most important one in determining the key).

Based on only the fifths—g and d—the chord (and the key, which is identical to the tonic) could have been a G major or g minor chord. In the case of the first one, the third would have been a b, and in the second one a b flat (see the above video demonstration of a G major and minor chord for reference). And what note do the strings add? A b flat, which puts both the chord and the key into g minor, the sadder, quieter mode of the two. It finally gives us the clarification we needed: what Porsche is doing isn’t working, he is sad about how things are with Kinn, he misses Kinn and his touch. Before, he wasn’t sure about what he was doing, now he knows it’s not what he wants or needs. His attempt at forgetting him through this woman has failed.

Measures 9-15, which correspond to roughly 0:15 to 0:26 of the video and 21:25 to 21:37 of the episode.

I also really appreciate how the strings were the ones to bring this resolution, not only because they have a very soft tone and are therefore already typically connected to sad music, but also because they make it possible to introduce the new note very carefully and quietly. For at least the first half of the first measure in the above picture, the note can’t even be heard, and then it is introduced through a crescendo, slowly appearing like it is dawning on Porsche that he can’t forget Kinn.

From this point on—as Porsche tries to distract himself from this realization by kissing the woman and we get to see Kinn do the same—, more strings come in and the piano develops the theme we have heard twice now. The piece also gets a bit more complex harmonically, but all of these changes just serve to highlight the minor key we are in and the depressed, lonely, even desperate mood of both Kinn and Porsche. It mixes well with the almost feverish, desperate way especially Kinn behaves in that moment.

So, I want to thank whoever was in charge of the music in this show because they made some excellent choices (and some interesting ones—looking at you, weird MIDI-sounding version of Vivaldi’s Summer that for some reason comes up again and again), but this piece in particular stood out to me because of how perfectly it was edited into the scene. This doesn’t happen very often in (Thai) BLs since very few of them have scores specifically written for them, so most have to make do with pre-existing pieces that can often not be incorporated as elegantly and interestingly as an original soundtrack.

[circeletters]

Old lullaby

this was written for @hdcandyheartsfest using the prompt "happy tears"

He saw the way his eyes watered, a single tear sneaking out and falling before it could be stopped.

“Harry? Hey… It's okay, if you don't like it you don't need to stay with it, but-”

“Shut up.” Harry took a deep breath and kept his eyes at the box in front of him. The cardboard box was filled with vinyl records, mostly from the 80s, all worn out and some of them with scribbles and doodles on the covers.

Draco and Harry had taken the task of cleaning Grimmlaud Place not long ago, agreeing that anything that was older than 20 years was straight to trash. Draco had imposed to clean the older rooms himself, those never occupied during the time the Order was there, knowing all weird dark magic artifacts would be hidden in those. There was no need to expose Harry to that if he was already a very capable curse-breaker.

It was in one of these rooms, though, that Draco had found the perfect Christmas present for Harry. A box closed off in the corner of what he imagined was supposed to be Remus's room but never got used much, because the whole place was filled with dust everywhere. Everywhere except the box. When he opened he definitely didn't expect to find a mildly obsessive collection of David Bowie records, but even he was endeared upon a closer look, deciding if anyone was supposed to see this, it was Harry.

Now, on Christmas morning, Draco wondered if his idea was a good one or not. Harry stood with hands on the opened box, tears on his eyes, and wouldn't say anything.

“It’s organized from oldest to newest…” he tried, staring at Harry to see if he reacted.

Instead of a verbal response, Harry lunged himself into Draco, making them both fall in the thick rug of the living room.

“Thank you.” Harry said, still with his head buried in Draco's neck.

“You would've found it eventually, I just wanted it to be special…” their hands stayed together even after the embrace ended. Harry went through the vinyls with only one hand, and eventually stopped on one with a woman and pigs on the cover.

“Look! You like this one, don't you?” Harry turned the record to him, eyes glowing on finding something he could share.

“I do! Would you like to put it on?” Draco complied, it was not his favorite, but had some great songs in it, for sure.

“Oh we have to!” Harry let go of his hand and got up, quickly putting the record on while reading the back. “Sirius’ favorite” he whispered. “It's Remus's handwriting isn't it? It has a little heart on the side…”

He handed the cover to Draco. The sixth track had little scribbles around it, including the words Harry said on the messy calligraphy of his old professor, and an additional arrow that included in a well trained handwriting saying “it is!”

Draco looked up at Harry, and couldn't hide the smile that came up when their eyes met. Smiles were so easy with Harry. Glowing excited green eyes and thick lashes was all it took for Draco's heart to be filled.

“Well, you have to put it in the sixth song now.” Draco said, already getting up and recognizing the track.

When the music started Draco extended a hand in Harry's direction, a silent invitation to dance. He felt the warmth inside when his bodies approached, and they kept the whole rest of their night like that: dancing in a slow motion, in an embrace with a sweet voice as a lullaby, a memory of the past but also an enjoyment of the present, and the reassurance of a soft future.

[lesbianlotties]

hiii! i absolutely adore your ronance hcs! what do they do when the other one is upset or just having a bad day?

hiii and thank you so much i'm sooo happy you like them!! so let's see

it definitely depends on how bad is it. like, nancy is just regular level annoyed at people at her job or just not feeling her best, then robin will e at her silliest. she will make nancy laugh like her job depends on it. and you know nancy will try to hold back her laughter, will roll her eyes fondly but eventually robin will just say something so endearing or ridiculous or unexpected or just accidently (or not) trip and fall down and you'll have nancy just throwing her head back laughing and forgetting all her worries

however, if nancy's is genuinely upset, the so angry she cries type of upset, or she feels physically like shit, robin will be so much more careful and patient. she knows how to give nancy her space and exactly what to do when nancy welcomes her in, when nancy needs her. in this cases robin will happily take over and be the big spoon. sometimes nancy just needs to be held and feel robin kiss the top of her head every few minutes you know? though eventually robin will break the silence with a little joke and when nancy gives her a tearful chuckle and robin whispers "there we are" they know everything will be alright. bonus point for robin singing nancy's favorite songs for her

on the other hand!! nancy dealing with an upset robin is the best thing in the world. because robin might be anxious and scared of a bunch of stuff but it takes a while before nancy sees her genuinely upset/having a bad day. and the whiplash of seeing her ray of sunshine girlfriend feeling so down it has nancy going out of her mind for ways to fix it. and eventually, because she's nancy wheeler, she's not going to rest until she knows exactly what to do, eventually she figures out a lot of things she can do depending on how bad it is

maybe robin isn't feeling great about herself, someone pointed out something that hurt her? well then you have nancy loading a gun bc who dared hurt her gf actually trying to be funny? she'll tell a joke and it's so bad that robin just goes :O and then she burst out laughing and her entire mood flips over to making fun of nancy, while feeling her heart swell because she knows how hard nancy is trying. but maybe robin is feeling much worse, her head hurt, the entire world feels like nightmare, she's even too upset to go on a long rant? well then nancy will know what kind of distraction she needs. maybe robin needs nancy to be the one going on a rant, telling her how much she loves her, how everything is going to be okay, or just anything she can think of. maybe nancy will take her hand and lead her outside for a long walk and into their secret spot in the woods until she can see robin's shoulder relax. maybe robin just needs a good long nap while nancy plays with her hair

[richardxoliverxmayhew]

II Drabble for @vxctorx

Boyish, blue orbs waltzed a delicate balance of hasty yet purposeful glances upon the roughened facade of his sketchpad's parchment, now etched with meticulously drawn ribbons and curves of ebony and ashen shades, and the golden image of his love's reclined figure. The honeyed tones of tender sunbeams and the sea's untamed locks rapping upon the distant shore perfectly accompanied such a waltz. "Just continue lyin' just like tha'... Aye, tha's righ'. Just keep tha' hand of yer's framed close to yer' face. I promise I'm almost done, just a few more touches, is all." Oh, how Vic was born to be an artist's muse (not that Richard counted himself as much of the former). The auric bends of his muscles, tied together with his princely crown of tawny curls that Richard had raked with wandering fingers a hundred times over; and not to mention the captivating splash of teal concealed in such a handsome gaze. The sort of gaze that Richard would recognize out of a crowd of thousands. The sort of gaze he would recognize in the depths of darkness. Such godly traits would be enough to make Apollo blush. "Have I e'er told ye' tha' I always wanted to go to art school. Ended up becomin' a fanciful dream, I suppose," he tut, as poised fingers weaved the sketcher's charcoal upon the final flourishes.

He could feel the round of his heart cuff against the walls of his chest. A misplaced pulse trapped against his throat now, which he silently tried to swallow back. "Y'know, I realized I've collected way too many fanciful dreams, and endorsed certain realities mainly 'cause I was expected to do so or... maybe even 'cause I was too much of a coward to figh' for wha' migh' actually make me happy." He paused. ".... It's time to put an end to tha'...." Since the weeks leading up to their seaside holiday, Richard had been wrestling with this notion, which eventually bloomed into something of a confession in his busied mind. One ripe enough that the plump of its cheek would break off from its stem on its own accord and tumble against entwined roots. Richard lowered the barrier of his sketching pad, his blue eyes-- now brimming with the excitement of hope, the fear of refusal, and, mostly, the amount of overpowering love and affection he held for this man before him. His love. His future. His everything. Placing his materials down, he drew forward before taking a seat beside his beloved; his warm hand, now lightly freckled with echoes of their previous, sunsoaked days, clasping Vic's. "Before I say wha' I've been wantin' to ask ye', I need to tell ye' tha' I got a job in London... Or, at least I applied for one, but rumour is tha' the position's as good as mine. Aye, it's not anythin' fancy like bein' a lawyer or bein' a gen'leman but it's a start; and, more importantly, it's certainly enough to buy a wee flat, and food, and clothes, and a new life. Our new life!" Our new life. Ours. Oh, how that word tasted all the more sweet now that he was saying it aloud.

His eyes crinkled into a fervid smile, as his adoring gaze remained transfixed in earnest upon Vic, as if he were the North Star amidst a night as black as tar. "Come away with me, Vic. Aye, I know, it's sudden and I don't have a ring I can offer ye' righ' now, but I'll work hard. Hell, I'll even put in two shifts. Three, if it means makin' sure ye' ne'er want for more." Fingers folded a little tighter round Vic's hand now. Youthful optimism radiated with every word the Scotsman spoke, placing what sliver of doubt he once held upon the backcloth of his mind's eye. "Just imagine, a new life away from Sco'land. A life in London! Ye' can be whoever ye' want to be and work in wha'ever job makes ye' happy, and, in time, we may just have enough to purchase Our own plot of wood. For our cottage," he cooed, Their evergreen dream never having strayed away from such ingenue beliefs. "Look, ye' don't have to answer me righ' away if ye' donnae' want to. I know wha' I'm askin' is no small feat. I just-... No ma'er how many times I played it out in my mind my life in London, my happiness, wouldn't be complete without ye'.-- To put it bluntly, I'm ready to finally be brave if ye' are too." Gentle lips kissed the gilded hills of the gentleman's knuckles. "Come with me..." Richard whispered against the other's skin, the taste of sun and brine still stained upon His skin. ".... Come with me...."

[ethereal-engene]

day six: when you became a carat