#so basically i was an emotional wreck and this version took my breath away

[chloefraazers]

nil + in the flood | Horizon Forbidden West (2022) footage from hfwpc by @kittleskittle

[arvandus]

Touch (pt 3)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please!  Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi  terrified you.  Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it  that way.  That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters.

Recommended Chapter Song:

Dizzy by MISSIO

Part 1   Part 2

Artwork credit to @hellowon31​ on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 3 - Resistance

The next day, Dabi woke up feeling like a complete wreck of a person.  A mockery of a human being, made of faulty parts stitched together haphazardly by a cruel universe.  He was angry. Furious.  Wasn’t your quirk supposed to last longer than this?  His head pounded.  The sun peeking through the crack in his curtains was an assault. Sweat covered his exposed pale flesh and yet he felt cold, clammy hands shaking.  Dabi laid back on his bed to cocoon himself into his blankets when he realized…his back was still painless.

Your quirk was still working.

Dabi’s bleary eyes caught sight of his empty pill bottles on his nightstand, and realization dawned on him. Withdrawal.

It started sooner than he had hoped.  He would have refilled his stock by now, but his usual seller went missing, most likely picked up by the feds.  Dabi had already reached out to Giran to find a new source, but the old man hadn’t returned his text messages.  So, Dabi spent some of his time the day before following connections within the villain network.  His search came up with nothing; what he could find wasn’t strong enough to justify the expense or the sellers were obviously trying to swindle him with a diluted product. Long story short, he felt like shit and had no quick fix for it.

He wanted to crawl out of his skin.  Fuck. Everything.

The memory of your cool touch on his skin came forefront to his aching head and he wondered if your quirk would be useful for his withdrawal symptoms…

Dabi pushed the thought out of his head.  He wasn’t going to let that be an option.  It was a slippery slope leading to a dependency that he simply couldn’t afford and definitely did not want.  He was already on edge from yesterday’s conversation. His sympathetic thoughts, no matter how brief, made him see a man he didn’t recognize, and the thoughts plagued him ever since.  He had never considered himself a soft guy.  It wasn’t that he didn’t have feelings.  Things could still bother him if he let them.  But he had learned very early on that what he felt didn’t matter. Perhaps it was the gradual silencing of his conscience, small pieces of him chipped away like stone worn down over years of crashing waves.  Only rarely, every once in a while, did the waters of his vengeance and bitter hatred recede enough to allow sunlight to touch his burnt heart.  And in that moment, he saw you, a fragile boat approaching rocky, dangerous shores.

He frowned.  As long as you did your job, what should it matter? You chose this life just like everyone else did.  It wasn’t his responsibility to protect you from it.

As if his heavy thoughts summoned you, your familiar knock rang through his door.  He cursed under his breath.  During his misery, Dabi had forgotten that you were going to visit him this morning.  He had planned to be gone before you came looking for him, a silent show of defiance to your mothering.  But instead he here was, stuck, feeling the shittiest he felt in a long time.  Maybe if he just ignored you…

You knocked on the door again, your pounding louder, incessant.  You were so fucking stubborn.  He glowered at the wooden barrier angrily, the intolerant noise sending a ringing like a tuning fork into the depths of his brain.  He contemplated setting the door on fire just to make a point. He held his restraint by hair, only vaguely aware that doing so would make him feel even worse, if such a thing was even possible.  Plus, you were the only person here with a lick of sense for medical care – he was ninety percent positive you had some sort of medical background.

“What?” he growled as he sat up begrudgingly, unwilling to let you see him so weak.  Nausea permeated him from his sudden motion.

On the other side of the door, you stared at the wood in confusion.  The sound of Dabi’s voice shocked you – low, scratchy, slurred… menacing.

You almost wanted to concede to the unspoken request, but your determination to treat him held tight to your will.  “It’s me.” You replied, hoping your voice didn’t sound as small as it felt.

A pregnant pause greeted you before he finally spoke. “Come in.” It sounded like an order.  Or was it a surrender?  Could it even be both?  How did this man always seem to have two versions of himself running simultaneously?

You came into the room and closed the door behind you with a quiet ‘click.’ You were met with a dark stuffiness, the air unusually warm and infused with the stink of sweat. The curtains were drawn closed, light straining to seep out along the edges of the fabric.  A thin slit of light stretched across Dabi’s bed where he sat, his back facing you.  He looked like a fallen angel, a broken soul.  His shoulders were hunched, drawn tight like a bow string, struggling not to fold in on himself and break.

His bravado was gone, his casual presence muted in the deafening silence.  He wasn’t even trying to pretend this time.  His distress was palpable.  You felt shame being here, your presence intrusive.  You weren’t supposed to see him like this.  So why did he let you in?

A mild panic filled you. Did he hurt himself again since you last saw him?  Or was this your fault?  Did your quirk wear off already?

“What’s wrong?” you asked. He didn’t respond.  You stepped forward cautiously.  “Dabi…?”

Your voice grated on his conscience – words of concern, a tone meant to soothe. He didn’t want your compassion.  He wanted you to be cold and indifferent, a mechanic repairing a broken part.  Or maybe even have you be as crazy as the others, waxing poetic about bloodlust and freedom.  That was a language he understood, that he could navigate with ease.  Not this benevolence.  Not this normalcy.  Why were you so different?

“You’re annoying.” He growled just loud enough for you to hear.

You halted your approach and your back stiffened.  “What?”

“Stop acting like you fucking care.”  The words spilled out of his mouth without a concern as to their damage.  He knew you cared, even if it was on a basic level, which was why he desperately, accusatorily denied it.

Everything bothered him. His head.  His body.  The stink of this room… you seeing him like this.  Why did that bother him?

You pressed your lips together, your jaw taut.  The tension in the room became as palpable as the stifling air.  What could you possibly say? That you did care?  Well, did you? You cared enough to be here, at least. You had a responsibility to treat him, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said he hadn’t been on your mind more than usual the past couple of days.  Of course, he’d never know that…. But were you friends by any stretch of the definition? No.  Definitely not. So, if he wanted to be a jerk and suffer with his pride, then you’d let him.

“If you want me to leave, just say so.” You replied coolly.  “I’m just here to do my job.”

Your answer satisfied him, cold and to the point, a counterbalance to your overwhelmingly gentle nature.  It provided him the emotional distance he needed, a cloak he donned willingly to shelter himself from your prying eyes.  And through his mental fog, he realized in mild amusement that it was the second time you called his bluff, grinding in your heels to deflect his verbal strikes. You weren’t easily bullied; at least, not as easily as he’d originally thought.

“Whatever.” He grumbled. “Let’s just get this over with, I got shit to do.”

You clenched and unclenched your hands around your bag.  You were grateful Dabi caved, your conscience breathing a sigh of relief.  You’d make it quick, to address what you needed to and leave him to sort himself out in solitude, like you knew he wanted.  You began to approach him, quiet steady steps around his bed so you could get a closer look at him. If he was going to let you treat him, you might as well try to make the most of your limited time and see if you could figure out what was wrong.

As soon as you could see his face, you realized he was holding something in his hand. An empty pill bottle.  His eyes stared at it like it held the answers to the universe while also cursing its existence.

Suddenly, everything clicked.  The agitation.  The pain. The misplaced anger… Of course.

You closed the distance between you until you were standing in front of him.  Without saying anything, you quietly took the bottle from his hand, which, surprisingly, he let you.  You read the name and the dosage.  It was a strong one.

“Dabi,” you said quietly, hoping you didn’t sound patronizing, “How long has it been since you’ve had your medication?”

There it was.  That kindness again.  You brought it forth so effortlessly, as if he didn’t just insult you a moment ago. Somewhere, behind his defenses, the itch of guilt settled itself into his mind like an unwelcome guest.

He was quiet for a moment as he stared at the bottle in your hand, his eyes either unable or unwilling to meet yours.  “Two days.” He replied, his voice scratchy.

You quickly did the math in your head.  He had mentioned that his pain meds ran out when he first asked for your help, but you had thought nothing of it at the time, assuming he had ways of fixing his problem.  You should have known.  You should have checked with him.  Drug withdrawal was no joke.

“When are you getting more?” you asked.

“Not sure, doll.  My supplier has gone AWOL and I haven’t found a backup.” He put his head between his hands and rubbed at his temples.  You watched him with quiet concern.  At first you wanted to use your quirk to try to help him, your hand starting to reach out to his wild raven hair instinctually. You faltered.  Would your quirk even work with this?  This wasn’t a cut or a burn or a broken rib… this was a chemical imbalance in his brain.  What if you hurt him or messed him up somehow?  Slowly you lowered your hand.  He needed his drugs.  

“How many of these did you take a day?” you asked as you looked at the bottle again.

He answered.  Your eyes bulged slightly.  How was this man not stumbling around when you first met him? He must have built up a tolerance over years of use.  Besides, quirkology affected everyone’s body a little differently.  Still, it definitely explained his bored expression and overall body language – this guy was constantly high.

“Don’t look so surprised, doll.” He stared up at you with shining bloodshot eyes.  His forehead was beaded in sweat, his skin so ghostly pale that only the rise and fall of his shallow chest indicated he was a breathing, living human.

You watched him, taking in his current state.  If he did finally get a hold of new meds on his own, would he be able to show restraint? Logically, you knew that he was experienced with this – it obviously wasn’t his first rodeo.  But still, a part of you couldn’t help but worry.

“You could really hurt yourself with these.” You replied softly.

“I know my limits.” He stated firmly, annoyance starting to seep in.

“That’s what everyone says, until they don’t.”

His brow furrowed, dark eyebrows pulled together like closing gates.  “Look, doll.  If you’re gonna lecture me, then you really can leave.  I don’t need your help with this.  I got by just fine before you came along.”

You wanted to snap back at him, to defend what seemed common sense to you, but you held back.  Poking the bear would help no one.

You kneeled down next to him and opened your bag, rummaging through your things.  “I’m not trying to lecture you.  I’m trying to help you.”  You found what you were looking for and pulled it out.  Nervousness filled you – you hoped he didn’t ask too many questions.

Dabi eyed the bottle of medication in your hand in hunger.

“It’s not as strong as what you’re used to,” you explained, “but it will take the edge off.”

“What kind of doctor are you, aiding a drug addict?” he teased.

A pang of guilt shot through you, but you steeled yourself against it.  “If you’re going to be taking pain meds, then I’d rather have it be something reliable and safe that I can monitor instead of something you find on the street through dubious means.”

“Oh yeah?  Like all of your little supplies don’t come from shady sources.  You can’t exactly get this stuff from anywhere.  Those are prescription only.” Dabi nodded at the bottle clutched so tightly in your hand, that he couldn’t see the label on it.  He couldn’t help but wonder… was it your name on that white sticker?  Or someone else’s?  What other items did you have in that bag of yours?

You lifted your chin pridefully.  “I have an inside source.  Trust me, the stuff I get is the real deal.  And that’s all you need to know about that.”

Dabi grinned as you gave him two of the pills from the bottle.  “Well, look at you, doll.  What a criminal.  You could get in serious trouble for this, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I think we’re well past that by now…” you replied with a grin, which earned you a chuckle.

Dabi popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry.  Your smile faded slightly as you felt the urge to say one more important thing to him.

You stared at his hands in front of you, long fingers intertwined together and suspended in the air as his elbows rested on his knees.  “Look, Dabi…” you started.  Your eyes traced the metal rings holding his skin together.  “I can’t imagine the kind of pain you’re constantly in.  I understand why you take drugs. I think anyone would.  That’s why I’m helping you.  Not having pain meds isn’t really an option for you.”

“So, does that mean you’re gonna let me have that bottle?” his eyes stared at the bottle still clutched in your hand.

You held the bottle to your chest protectively, a part of you afraid he’d try to snatch it from you. Withdrawal made people do desperate things.  He raised an amused eyebrow at your defensive action, a small smirk upturning the corner of his mouth.

Your body felt warm and you broke eye contact.  “Not yet.” You replied.  “I want to make sure you’re okay with it.  It’s different from what you were taking before.  It might feel weaker than what you were taking or might have different side effects for you.  I don’t want you to overdo it.”

“And what makes you such an expert?” Dabi pried, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as his head tilted.

You put the pills back into your bag as you looked away from him.  “I have a medical background, so I know a lot more than you might think.”

Dabi grinned, despite his headache, the skin pulling tight enough along his rings to send an ache of pain along his jaw.  He was right. Not that it was that hard to figure out, but he liked that you answered him honestly.

“You don’t trust me, doll?” Dabi’s teasing tone made you look up at him to find his fiery eyes piercing yours.  That familiar spark of life, dangerous and wild, was starting to return to his drawn features.  Oddly enough, you found it comforting even if it did send your pulse racing like a scared rabbit.

Meanwhile, he was amused at your caution.  Little did you know how many drugs he’d tried over the years, how many times he came close to ‘overdoing it,’ as he learned what his body could and couldn’t handle. Sure, he needed his drugs to keep the pain at bay… but he also needed to carry out his mission.  He refused to let himself devolve into a zombie when he still had unfinished business.

You rolled your eyes at him.  “I just want to make sure you transition to this new pain medication okay.  Switching drugs can be a messy business.  If I decided to trust you and something went wrong, well…” your words faltered, unable to finish your statement.  It almost surprised you how much the thought of something horrible happening to Dabi bothered you… especially if it was caused by your own negligence.

“Aw, doll, you’re making me blush.” Dabi grinned.  “You better not try to take advantage of me. I’m under the influence.”

You raised an amused eyebrow at him.  “Really? Who’s taking advantage of who here? Someone just got free drugs.”

“Trust me, sweetheart – you’ll know when I’m taking advantage of you.”

A proper comeback couldn’t find its way to your lips while your mind was so distracted by suggestive thoughts.

He continued on unfazed, as if his previous words meant nothing to him.  “So, how are we gonna do this then?”

You cleared your throat and wet your parched lips with your tongue.  Dabi watched the gesture intently, but you didn’t notice as you avoided eye contact.  “We’ll start with what I gave you. When it wears off and you feel like you need more, you come find me.  If you have any issues or feel anything weird, you come find me.  I don’t care what time it is.  If it’s 3 in the morning, you come find me.”

A devilish grin spread across Dabi’s features as his head got a rather detailed less-than-pure mental picture of a late-night visit.  He knew that wasn’t what you meant, but he enjoyed where his imagination took him, nonetheless.  He eyed you for the first time since you came into his room, allowing himself to take in your appearance from head to toe, his eyes lingering where he wanted them to, without a care as to if you noticed.  He might not be willing to touch, but he was definitely willing to look. Life was too short to not appreciate the finer things in life, and at this moment the finer thing was you.

You shifted nervously under his penetrating gaze, your pulse quickening under your skin like a raging river. You weren’t quite sure what he was thinking, but the light of his eyes made you feel exposed.  You resisted the urge to wrap your arms around yourself protectively, your self-consciousness fighting to get the better of you.

Your forced yourself to continue, looking away abashedly.  “I’m still coming to take care of your bandages, so I’ll be checking up on you again tonight.  Do we have a deal?”

Dabi was quiet for a moment as he stared at your determined face.  Finally, he smiled.  “Yeah, doll. We got a deal.”

“Good.  Now let me check those bandages.”

He stood up and you instinctively took a step back as his presence filled yours within the tight space between his bed and the wall where you stood. The scent of him filled your nose and you resisted the urge to inhale.  You liked it and you couldn’t explain why.  He turned his back to you and removed his sweat-soaked shirt.  You waited to see if he would move to the more open space of his room, but he didn’t, and you stood awkwardly before deciding to just change his bandages where he was.  Maybe he had a headache and moving was a little too much for him.  It’d take about thirty minutes for the pills you gave him to really get into his system and start working, and you’d be long gone by then.

You changed his bandages quickly and efficiently as well as added a little boost with your quirk to make sure his back was pain-free until you returned to check on him later in the evening.  He seemed to have enough on his plate to deal with without having your quirk wear off.

He was silently grateful you changed his bandages in silence as he waited for the pills you gave him to kick in. He was familiar with them, of course – they weren’t the best for what he needed, but you were right when you said they’d take the edge off.  Still, he didn’t want to use up your supply.  He didn’t know if that was your only bottle, and at the rate that he typically popped pills, you’d be out within a few days.  He’d reach out to Giran again to get a hold of his own.

Once you were done, you packed up your items to leave.  But before you did, you reached into your bag and pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to him.

“Hydrate.  Please.” You said.  “You took those pills and they might make you nauseous on an empty stomach.  Besides, your body needs more than coffee, energy drinks, and alcohol.”

Dabi grinned.  “Have you been watching me, doll?  You’re not stalking me, are ya?”

“I watch all of my patients.” You replied with a critical eye.  “Nice try, though.”

“You got any ramen in that bag?” Dabi teased as he opened the water bottle and took a swig.

“No, but I got a granola bar.  You want it?” you replied casually. You pulled out said item and waved it in Dabi’s face.

Dabi’s lip turned up in disgust.  “That shit’ll get stuck in my rings.  And it’s disgusting.”

“It’s healthy.” You replied with an extra wave for added emphasis.

“You’re like a walking drug store.”  Dabi commented as he watched you put the offending food away.

“I feel like a damn mom with all this stuff, but you’d be surprised how often it comes in handy.” You replied.  “Alright, well I’m gonna go and let you rest.  Do you have my number?”

You said it so casually, that Dabi had to stare at you to process your words for a moment.  He didn’t easily fluster, but he also didn’t ever have pretty girls offering their number to him, his scars always scaring them off.  It was such a personal gesture and completely alien to him.

“What for?” he finally replied.

“In case you need me for anything.  Like if the drugs wear off, or your bandage comes loose or something. We might not always be in the same place at the same time and I’d hate for you to not be able to reach me if something’s wrong.”

The tension in Dabi’s chest eased slightly.  Of course, it had to do with his health.  He noticed that about you – when it came to business, you cut straight to the chase.

He wanted your number.  But as soon as he realized it wasn’t for health reasons, he immediately shot it down, his iron wall crashing down.  “I’ll be fine.”

You stared at him and shrugged.  “Suit yourself.  Just trying to be efficient.  If you change your mind, you can reach out to one of the others.  I think you’re the only one who doesn’t have it.”  You walked to the door and turned back to him.  “Like I said, I’ll be back tonight, probably at around 9pm.  You’d better be here, or you won’t get your pills.” Mischief danced in your eyes and Dabi realized you were teasing him. He grinned.

“You think you can manipulate me?” he challenged.

“We’ll see…” you replied casually and left his room.

After you were gone, he stood there for a moment staring at the water bottle in his hand before he realized he had a dumb fucking smile on his face. He threw the water bottle in his trashcan.

You were a goddamn pain in his ass.  And he was a damn idiot, getting flustered over a pretty face being kind to him. What was this, fucking middle school? Like he’d never been around a girl before?  You were here to treat him.  As soon as his wounds were healed up and he got his own drugs, things would go back to normal.

It had to go back to normal.

__________________________________________________________

Part 4

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[thesculptedflower]

Blue Velvet / Chapter 6

Chapter 6

’’Are you okay?’’ 

Ed was now wide awake, all his attention on making sure Y/N was unharmed. Both physically and mentally. He searched her face for answers, trying to see behind the wall she had built around her. Y/N’s eyes were watering, but he saw how badly she tried to hold the tears from falling. His heart was aching for her. 

’’An intruder broke in to the manor, a gang member from Street Demonz.’’ She explained quietly, watching her hands that were intertwined with Ed’s. He drew small circles on her skin with his thumb. Recalling the events of the last hours got more painful with every word, the tears threatening to escape.

’’He came in so quietly, killed all Oswald’s guards. I guess he was looking for me, but I was hiding in the bathroom. When Oswald wouldn’t tell him where I was, he took my violin and,’’ A tear fell down her cheek. Ed noticed it immediately, his eyes never leaving her face. He lifted his other hand to place it on her cheek, wiping away the tear. She leaned softly to his hand.

’’and he tossed it to the fireplace.’’

’’I’m so sorry.’’ Ed whispered, pulling her to his lap so he could hold her closer for the rest of the story. He held her head against his shoulder, slowly brushing his fingers trough her hair to help her calm down. Y/N leaned fully into his embrace, holding her hands against his chest. 

’’I was so angry. He was smiling like a maniac and I just couldn’t stop myself.’’ She continued. Ed could feel tears dropping to his shoulder. 

’’So I got out from the bathroom and shot him. Before that he called me a babe and a bitch and Oswald tried to stop me but I didn’t want to stop and I just wanted to kill him and -.’’ All the emotions were getting to her, making her speech fall all over the place. Ed moved her head to look at her. 

’’Hey, it’s okay. He deserved it. No need to feel bad about it.’’ He said, wiping the tears away from her cheeks. Her eyes were red from crying, but she didn’t look sad. Ed’s brown eyes radiated hope, hope for her to get better from this. To be the best version of herself after this. 

’’I’m not crying because I feel bad. I’m just scared.’’ She whispered, eyes glued to his. Ed lifted his eyebrows a little, not yet understanding what she meant.

’’I’m scared, because it felt good.’’ 

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

They woke up in each others arms in the next morning. Her head on his shoulder, his arms around her. Sunlight lit Ed’s cozy apartment beautifully. Y/N felt like she was finally home. Events of last night still seemed like a nightmare, but she felt better. Ed didn’t turn her down, instead he embraced her. He was proud of her for standing up for herself, and for Oswald. And even if he didn’t dare to say it yet, he was excited about this new version of her. 

A text message broke the comfortable silence. 

’’Morning beautiful.’’ Ed said sleepily, pressing a soft kiss on top of her head. ’’How are you feeling?’’ Y/N rose to lean on her elbow, so she could look at him. Her other hand rested on Ed’s chest. ’’I think I’m better. Being here with you helps.’’ She smiled. It felt amazing to be like this with him, without the constant fear of getting caught. 

Ed reached for his phone to check the message. ’’It’s Oswald, he’s asking me to get over there asap.’’

And then she remembered what Oswald had told her. How he had fallen in love with Ed. Ed could see the change in her expression. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling one of Ed’s shirts on. It was big enough to almost cover her bottom. 

’’What’s wrong? Did you remember something?’’ Ed asked, sitting up on the bed, concerned about the sudden change in her demeanor. 

Y/N ran her hands through her hair and sighed. She had to tell him. 

’’Oswald loves you.’’ 

’’What?’’

’’He told me last night, before everything went to shit.’’

Y/N got up from the bed, now pacing around the room, biting her nails. Ed got up after her, stopping her to face him. 

’’Even if he does, it doesn’t matter. I love you.’’ It was the first time he said it to her. And she felt so happy, and so sad at the same time. ’’I love you too.’’ She said back, pressing herself against him. ’’But how can we ever tell him? It’ll break him.’’ 

Ed knew it too, Oswald wasn’t going to react well. When he wanted something, there wasn’t much that could change his mind. All three of them cared so deeply for each other, though Y/N and Ed in secret. 

They decided to keep their love hidden for a bit longer, until Oswald’s campaign was over. 

’’I should get over there, before he comes looking for me.’’ Ed said, brushing a strain of hair behind her ear. ’’You can stay here as long as you like.’’

Y/N pulled him closer to press a loving kiss on his lips, which he returned eagerly. ’’Or, you could text him that you’ll be there in an hour.’’ She said, looking up at him under her lashes and running a finger down his chest. She rose up to her tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

’’Take a shower with me.’’

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

On the days when Oswald and Ed were too busy with the campaign, Y/N would spend her time with Victor, on the shooting range. And boy, she was good.

’’I don’t know if I should be impressed or scared.’’ Victor said, amused after another round of perfect shots. Y/N smiled widely, clearly pleased with her skills. 

’’I want to be able to protect myself. And maybe do some other stuff.’’ She replied carefully, hoping that Victor would pick up the hint. He crossed his arms to his chest and smiled playfully. ’’You want to rob something?’’ 

She nodded eagerly, biting her lip softly. She knew how to steal little things here and there, but she was craving for more. 

’’Say, Victor, do you like weddings?’’

‘’Depends, am I marrying you?’’

‘’No you idiot, lets crash one.’’

The following days went in a blur and the election was getting closer and closer. Oswald was a nervous wreck for most of the time, fearing that the people of Gotham wouldn’t vote for him. He was even ready to fabricate the results by having Mr. Penn manipulate the votes, but Ed managed to talk him out of it. Which showed how much he trusted Ed, how much he actually listened to his advice. How much he loved him. 

Y/N had returned to the manor, and Oswald was finally able to breath a little better, knowing she was safe. She promised him that she was okay, better than okay even. Oswald knew her well enough to see how the night had changed her. She carried herself with more attitude, more powerfully. And he liked it, he could see her maybe becoming one of his partners in the future. All that time spent with Victor, on the range and on his jobs had molded her into a totally new person. And she loved it. The sad street musician who needed a personal bodyguard was long gone, and on her place was this strong woman who didn’t take anyone’s bullshit. Victor had even given her one of his guns, which she wore on a holster on her thigh. Oswald stayed far from committing any crimes while he’s campaign was still going, so he’d send her and Victor to handle any troubles that were coming his way. He even thought they were sleeping together, from Victor’s gun on her thigh, he wouldn’t give it to anyone. And Ed hated it. He wanted to show her off so badly, to be seen with her. 

And then came the night of the election. They all came together to wait for the results at Oswald’s manor. The mood was excited, everyone chatting around and enjoying the drinks and snacks that Olga had prepared. The manor was guarded all around, Oswald was nervous enough about the results, and he wanted to be sure that there wouldn’t be any disturbance tonight. 

’’You need to calm down, I’m sure you’ll win.’’ Y/N said happily, trying to ease Oswald’s nerves. From time to time, her eyes would find Ed’s from the crowd and he would already be staring at her.

’’How can you be so sure? Everyone hates me, I’m a freak and a-.’’ Oswald said before being interrupted by Ed’s loud voice.

’’The results are in!’’ He informed, taking his place in front of the crowd. Everyone was holding their breath, waiting for Ed to announce the results.

’’The new mayor of Gotham is… Mr. Oswald Cobblepot!’’ 

Everyone erupted in cheers and hurried to congratulate the new mayor. Oswald was beaming from happiness. He was so sure, he would lose. But Ed was right, the people did love him. He could only hope, that Ed would be one of those people.

’’See, it all worked out.’’ Y/N said, giving Oswald a hug. She felt so happy for him, but at the same time she was scared. Now that the election was over, they’d have to tell him about the relationship.

She excused herself and left for the kitchen to make herself another drink. All the counters were filled with different kind of bottles, some worth more than basic cars. Quietly humming a song, she made herself a mojito, when she was surprised by a very pleasant voice. 

’’Miss L/N, I hope you’re enjoying your evening.’’ Ed almost purred, leaning back against the counter next to her, his hat hooding his dark eyes. Y/N smiled mischievously, garnishing her drink with mint leaves. ’’I am, very much so, Mr. Nygma.’’ She replied with the same flirtatious energy. It was dangerous for sure, but the alcohol in both of their veins made them a little frisky. Playing like they didn’t know each other that well, added something they both liked to this game, it made them almost invisible, while being in plain sight.

’’Might I add, you’re looking ravishing tonight.’’ He kept going, edging closer to her, eyeing her body from head to toe. She was wearing a gorgeous, sparkling black cocktail dress that hugged her body just right. A soft blush rose to her cheeks. ’’Oh my, well thank you. You’re rather handsome yourself.’’ They were so spellbound in each other, they didn’t notice that they were being watched. Oswald had noticed that the both of them had vanished, so he went to look for them. Unfortunately for him, he found them in the one place he most dreaded. Together.

’’Shared between two, most often to woo. Sometimes hot and sometimes cold. The beginning of us all, young and old. What am I?’’ Ed riddled, brushing his gloved thumb over Y/N’s lower lip. Y/N lifted her hands to his chest, pretending to fix his tie and pulled him down to a passionate kiss. While Ed’s arms snaked around Y/N’s waist and her hands found his neck, Oswald’s heart broke.

[wings-of-a-storm]

Alright, I am back with the remainder of my thoughts on Lucas’ and Eliott’s first meeting! This time looking at Clip 7: their first conversation.

Here I mostly ponder: - Lucas approaching Eliott: a study in art - Lucas' almost painful vulnerability - How Lucas and Eliott met in the middle (Edit: Woah, it’s like Polaris!) - The ways Eliott differs to Even (and how his gentleness will be the end of me) - How tightly guarded Lucas is with people - including Eliott for now - The different vibe characters bring to scenes: how Eliott’s personality made the three’s-a-crowd moment feel more subtle - Chloé and Eliott at the altar of Lucas Lallemant

LUCAS APPROACHING ELIOTT: A STUDY IN ART

The way Lucas just freezes at the bus stop when he realises Eliott’s right there, alone, by the vending machine… Oh my heart.

A new infatuation comes with plenty of emotions. Sometimes there is a passionate zeal, but sometimes there is crippling uncertainty and insecurity. It makes the direct contrast between Player Lucas’ confidence with Chloé and Real Lucas’ muteness around Eliott all the more powerful. It is obviously easier to hit on someone when you have nothing emotionally at stake or any real interest. When you do have actual feelings at stake though…

Standing by the bus stop, Lucas has a chance, an opportunity to talk to this guy who has absolutely captivated him. He could just walk away and forget anything ever happened to him in that meeting, or he can just…try and talk to him. Just to see. And hats off to Lucas, because even though he looks so unsure and scared, he visibly steels himself and chooses the harder option so that he will never regret it.

I am just in awe of Lucas right now, because wow, in this version of SKAM, our closeted boy made the first move.

It is just so wonderful (and super sweet) that even though Lucas is so confused by his feelings (and probably scared of them too), he just can’t not approach Eliott. He has a real need to see what Eliott is like to talk to. To know what he is like as a person. To be able to look at those eyes again up close. To hear what his voice sounds like. To just…explore who this guy is.

Yet the first step of approaching Eliott by the vending machine is all Lucas can muster. Eliott is right there in front of him but he can’t shake that muteness to start up a conversation. He doesn’t know what to do or what to say, he just wants to be near Eliott so he just…hovers. And watches him -- always with the watching. (Little does he know Eliott has been feeling the same way.)

LUCAS AND ELIOTT: MEETING IN THE MIDDLE (EDIT: Well, hello there Polaris. Looks like this section suddenly became more significant than I realised...)

It feels special that Lucas makes the first move to approach Eliott while Eliott is the one who makes the first move to initiate conversation. It is like they met in the middle.

Eliott has known about Lucas for three weeks but hadn’t been able to steel himself to approach him. Lucas inadvertently took this step for both of them when he approached Eliott at the vending machine. As inadvertent as it was, it feels like Lucas helped Eliott there.

Meanwhile, after discovering Eliott’s existence, Lucas couldn’t find a voice (literally) to start a conversation with him. So Eliott inadvertently helped Lucas by being the one to both initiate and lead the conversations between them at the vending machine and bus stop. Eliott didn’t realise it, but he was really helping Lucas out there.

Separately they couldn’t get what they needed, but through inadvertent teamwork, they succeeded. It’s so beautiful!

(EDIT:  Okay so Eliott’s Polaris film idea is that two lovers meet in the middle (or at the border of their worlds). Meeting in the middle must definitely be a theme that they are exploring in the show and they seem to have started it early. I am so excited to see how it develops further!)

LUCAS’ FIRST STEPS

My favourite part of the whole clip though is actually the process of Lucas approaching Eliott -- how he slowly turns the corner of the bus shelter while peeking around it... It is such a soft moment, and the vulnerability and tentativeness of each footstep feels so fragile! I want to hold my breath so I don’t disturb this very delicate thing happening.

Lucas is just so unsure and yet yearning so much. Each slow, tiny step he takes feel like a wonder. Accompanied by the soft, tentative piano composition, it is just too much for me. I think it is so effective because of the confident front we are so used to Lucas displaying. This level of vulnerability feels so painful to watch in comparison.

A MUTUAL VULNERABILITY

If Lucas has one brand of vulnerability (muteness, shall we call it), then as soon as we get to see Eliott’s face and body language at the vending machine, we witness another brand of vulnerability (for now, let’s call it anxiety). How can one man look so vulnerable in front of a vending machine! The way he is running his fingers over his lip doesn’t feel like simple indecisiveness, more like a low-level anxiety over making the right decision. Is our Eliott an over-thinker? If so what a parallel to Lucas right now who is also deep in thought over Eliott’s shoulder.

It’s so freakin’ adorable when Eliott senses someone waiting nearby and then panics for a split second when he turns and realises it is his crush. And then sort of straightens himself out into a cooler version of himself. (But still with that self-deprecating grimace/chuckle at his inability to make a simple decision.)

But he doesn’t look cool so much as SOFT! The way he hunches over his money and sorts through it so earnestly!

I mean...

What a time to be alive for Eliott though! His crush is actually standing right there, looking at him, with none of his friends around. Eliott’s mind must have been thinking overtime on how he can capitalise on that and prolong their interaction. So he goes in to buy a second bar, and it is so obvious that it is his plan to try and get Lucas to hang out with him because he is suddenly all nerves again – he forgets the chill vibe and can’t stand still and his hands fly over to his mouth again in that nervous tic.

What he doesn’t realise is that Lucas is just as nervous: Lucas can easily recommend a museli bar to Eliott but as soon as Eliott’s full attention diverts to him, he reverts back to: Can’t. Speak. Too. Overwhelmed. Send. Help. (With these two It’s really a case of the blind leading the blind, eh!)

And then the expression on Lucas’ face when he gets propositioned by Eliott to hang out (which is basically what he had been wanting all along) without having to do anything or even say anything was like: “Well, that happened.” He is almost in a daze. It’s such a far cry from the Lucas who blew weed into Chloé’s mouth without skipping a beat…

I am such a wreck from Lucas’ vulnerability!

A WHOLESOME INTERACTION

We need to talk about Eliott’s vibe compared to Even’s during that proposition though. The Coolness of Even in the bathroom with the paper towels cannot be understated. And he was able to maintain that Coolness the whole time, despite the ridiculousness of what he was doing. Smooth af, man, smooth af. Eliott, on the other hand, is someone who looks trademark Cool at first glance, but whose Softness just completely overflows when you get closer. His “Oh, did you want one? Sorry ‘bout it” joke has all the hallmarks of a smooth line, but that adorable grin takes all the bite out of it.

And then Eliott goes one step further and reveals that he bought the second bar with Lucas in mind. Um, is that not the sweetest gesture? Lucas, this boy just met you (LOL) and bought you food because he wishes to spend more time with you. That is peak Softness and how are you even functioning right now?

Oh wait, you’re not.

Seriously though, how wholesome was that entire interaction? Eliott buys a snack to bribe Lucas instead of using the obvious weed draw-card sitting behind his ear. You’re in safe hands, Lucas. (It was weed, right?)

Of course then it cuts to them at the bus stop and we can see that despite the invitation coup, Lucas is still Mute! All he can do is just starrrrrre at Eliott in peak Shook. I really can’t handle how adorable that is! What exactly will it take for Lucas to be more chill and grounded?

And then of course when he is able to function again, he pulls this face:

We understand, Lucas.

AN INSIGHT INTO LUCAS

As cute as all the muteness is, we need to talk about something else: the fact that Lucas not once offered up any information about himself to Eliott. No name, no grade, no L/ES/S, even though he had several chances to reciprocate.

Eliott is so warm and open with Lucas, so very happy to divulge information so that Lucas can know all about him and *sobs* be his friend. If he had a CV on hand, I’m sure he’d have tried to hand that over to Lucas too. (Boy is begging to be stalked on social media. EDIT: Or on his class register XD)

Lucas obviously wants to spend time with Eliott too, otherwise he wouldn’t have swallowed his nerves to go up to him in the first place. So why did he ignore the unspoken invitation to reciprocate the most typical, basic getting-to-know-you stuff with Eliott? His grade and subject choice aren’t exactly super personal details even if his name is. It is so sad that he is so closed off even with the little things.

Is he still so fearful of his attraction to Eliott that he needs to keep the most basic parts of his identity close to his chest/safe, to remain in control of his identity? The poor guy… (Though to be fair, Lucas did only just know of Eliott’s existence an hour ago so he is still processing everything, including whether it is safe to divulge anything to Eliott.)

AN INSIGHT INTO ELIOTT

Speaking of identity – was it just me or was Eliott’s joke about Lucas thinking him weird a clever little layering for what is to come (since we already know about Eliott’s secret). Or rather, a clever little insight into the insecurity that Eliott must feel about himself to even insert himself into the ‘weird’ joke like that… Hmm. We’ll see.

SANDBAGGING CHLOE

I also just really wanted to give special mention to Eliott for sandbagging Chloé at the bus stop. I already mentioned my amusement in another post, but I may as well include it here too. It was just so brilliant that Eliott had just been opining the value of the common room to a sceptical Lucas, and insisting on how great it is to meet new people through it… But the second a new person comes over to them (from that meeting and everything), he couldn’t care less. He just gives Chloé a mandatory smile and greeting and offers nothing else until further prompted. I mean, what were you saying earlier, Eliott? (You have to love him.)

THE ALTAR OF LUCAS

Also a special shout out this piece of framing, otherwise known as The Disciples at the Altar of Lucas Lallemant. Our son has zero idea just how desperately everyone at that bus stop wants to be his friend and more.

It’s actually really cute how everyone is silent and just gazing at Lucas, waiting for him to do something. Because all Eliott and Chloé care about is Lucas – what he is doing, what he is thinking, what he might end up saying. It’s almost painful how happy they both are just to be spending this time with him. While Lucas has no real clue and is giving them nothing.

Poor Lucas though, being hit by those duel stares with the full force of an angel and a demon. (No offence to Chloé, but you know, she stresses Lucas out even though it’s his own doing.)

Actually poor Chloé too – she was trying so hard to use Eliott’s weed to jog Lucas’ memory about their weekend weed kiss but he ignored it.

Okay fine, while I am at it, poor Eliott as well for having his dreams come true (being able to talk to Lucas alone) only to have it snatched away so soon by a third party.

Being at this altar is hard. ;)

ELIOTT WITH CHLOE: A NEW VIBE

It has been quite interesting to see the changes that new characters bring to og scenes. With different people/personalities (because no one person is the same as someone else), different vibes come to the fore. I found this whole bus stop scene a more subtle experience than the og bench scene, and it’s mostly to do with Eliott’s personality.

In og, that bench awkwardness was so palpable. Obviously you could feel how uncomfortable Isak was, but you could also feel how put out Even was by their third wheel. He actually frowned when Emma came along and flat-out started to reject her with the ‘We’re supposed to be in pairs’ (before softening it).

Eliott was different. Because of his go-to safety net – sweetly smiling – he gives off the vibe that he is just a happy, open person who is good-natured with everyone. It is much harder to tell that he was bothered by Chloé’s sudden presence. He just looked like anyone who is faced with a new person they don’t know – politely wary and just waiting for an introduction.

The signs he doesn’t want Chloé there are more subtle than Even’s – like not volunteering his name after she introduced herself until prompted further, and directing answers to her questions back to Lucas to show where his priorities lay (including the ‘weird’ in-joke, because even though they’ve only spoken for a few minutes, they already have an in-joke. Hah).

But Eliott is just so goddamn gentle! If I were Lucas, I’d think that Eliott was just a little shy with Chloé but totally fine with meeting her and going with the flow – as opposed to mutually wanting her to leave them in peace.

So yeh, as the camera panned away, it kind of felt like three acquaintances chilling at a bus stop, running out of things to talk about. In the og, I definitely felt the tension of ‘ughhh why are you ruining this, Emma’ from both the boys a bit more. (That is more of an observation than a complaint, because I do like how sweet Eliott is with people. For now at least. Gosh, now I am so curious to see how he snaps at a certain character yet to be introduced. I can’t picture it!)

SAY MY NAME, SAY MY NAME~

But before I leave this bus stop scene there is just one more thing I need to bring up…

Did our dear Lucas sandbag Eliott at the end there? Eliott was so determined for Lucas to know his name – he told it to Chloé, but he gave it to Lucas. Just in case Lucas wasn’t aware of the import of this information. Just in case he had zoned out and missed this scoop. And Lucas just nodded and looked away as if he gave no f’s. He didn’t even do the polite thing and return the favour. Total ouch!

Okay Eliott buddy, the bad news is that Lucas pretended not to care. The good news is: he knows your name now! (Well, half of it. Good luck finding anything without his surname, Lucas. EDIT: WOW THE NEW CLIP JUST CAME OUT OF LUCAS HUNTING THROUGH THE L REGISTER AND WHAT A DESPERATE GENIUS. I STAN.)

With that lack of name reciprocation, I am just going to assume again that Lucas is still not ready to show any of his cards while he is processing everything. And it might feel safer for him to act unaffected by Eliott, especially with Chloé sitting right there, reminding him that he has that old curated persona to maintain.

I am also going to assume that Eliott didn’t take it personally and figures at least the ice is broken now. (I say that as if Eliott doesn’t already know Lucas’ name – which he probably does – but it’s the principle of the matter!)

BUILDING A BONFIRE

It’s not very gracious of me, but I can’t help but end this thought-dump with a metaphorical bonfire that I can throw the music soundtrack onto. I just...could not gel with that last song that ruined the flow took us into the credits. It felt like suddenly I was in an 80s superhero movie. I don’t mind some synth but yikes what was that? It didn’t fit the mood for me at all. And I am not just saying that because it is an indie instrumental – Skam Italia used that type of soundtrack brilliantly to complement scenes. So yeh, I’m not sure why that song was picked but I hope it is just an outlier…?

Alright guys, thanks for reading (if you made it this far!) Until next time. <3

[izzy-b-hands]

Aten Pt. 4

Onwards we go with this story, where it ends...well I think I’m supposed to know. But we aren’t done yet, I know that much. Got a bit more in me for this one!

Based Ahk’s footwear in part of this off of these: https://www.ysl.com/us/shop-product/men/shoes-sandals-culver-sandals-in-smooth-leather_cod11808611cu.html#dept=men_nouveautes

Also, you may notice in this that I took some liberty with historical accuracy and also accuracy on things like metal-working. Normally, I’d have found a way to make it work, but also that version of things majorly ruined it here, if I’m honest. No one except a few people want to read like...the history of metal-working (me lmao.) So I sort of dipped over and around all that and made it work so we wouldn’t lose the plot as much, hopefully it worked out okay!

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“I don’t miss this bit.” 

Aten laughed, then sniffled as they snuggled in bed, the sun trickling in through the small window of the bedroom. “Morning breath? Feeling groggy?” 

Ahk nodded, and cuddled closer into Aten’s shoulder. “Do we have to get up?” 

“Not yet. I’m skipping classes today since I still feel gross, so there’s no rush to be anywhere.” 

And that was perhaps the best thing he had heard in ages as he let Aten hold him close, until the sun hit his skin.

He couldn’t help it; it had been so long. He was out of bed like a shot, opening the blinds and letting the sun hit him fully. At some point, they’d both stripped out of their shirts, and the warmth on all that bare skin was overwhelming. 

He didn’t realize that he’d dropped to his knees, or that he was crying until he felt Aten’s arms around him, pulling him up and holding him tight. 

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. Larry told me about the tablet, what can happen, but you said you have it switched so you’re safe, remember? And you are, you’re just fine.” 

“I know,” he couldn’t fight back the sobs. “But I had forgotten. It’s so warm, so bright. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until now.” 

Aten led him into the living room, where he pulled aside the other set of blinds so the room was flooded with sunlight, and he lost himself for a good few minutes. 

He thought only of the opera then, of Akhenaten, who had raised ire in his monotheistic worship of the sun, and while he couldn’t necessarily justify all that had happened during the other pharaoh's reign, he could in that moment understand the elation, the joy of it, could see why the Aten had captured him so strongly. 

Especially because as he found himself at the window, on his knees, bent over so his head was at the floor, in a worshiping position he hadn’t taken for literally thousands of years, the Aten warming his living skin, his Aten was beside him in a similar pose. 

He knew it was incredibly unlikely that his Aten followed anything like the religion his people had in the past, but that he would join him, would try, would sit in the moment of ecstasy and happiness with him, made him weep with joy even harder. 

It was at least a half hour, even after he’d sat back up, Aten again pulling him close, before he was back to himself again, able to speak. 

“Thank you. You didn’t have to, and I can’t imagine the sun made you feel better, ah, you should be in bed sleeping still-” 

“I’m all good,” Aten said softly. “I should thank you. That was...I don’t know how to describe it, it felt powerful and cleansing and I’ve never...I’m not a religious guy, but that was...I just feel really good right now, and kind of emotional and...yeah.” 

The ringing of Aten’s phone interrupted their smiles and giggles, and he was reluctant to let Aten go to answer it. 

“We gotta go,” Aten said. “C’mon. Uh...shoot. We should really shower, but I told Larry we’d be right over...fuck.” 

“What?” 

“I guess he sent a photo of the tablet to the restoration dude? And he’s freaking out because he doesn’t think he can fix it without possibly making it worse or breaking another part of it, so Larry is freaking out and he’s thinking you’ll freak out, and now I’m freaking out and-” 

“Okay, just...stop using that phrase for a moment,” Ahk soothed. 

“I’m sorry, I’m frea-” 

“I know, it’s okay,” Ahk said, interrupting Aten before he could wind up again. “This isn’t great news but..I’ve had this idea. In my head since we met, and I think it could work. But you’re right, we’ll need to be with the tablet, with Larry to help us. I’ll also need some tools and gold...I can melt down some of the other artifacts probably, they’re basically mine at this point...” 

“Ahk!” 

“What? They are, and do you know how much is in storage at the museum? They won’t notice it missing, and it should be in a museum back in my home anyway, but I digress,” Ahk tutted. “We reused things all the time back at home, if we needed the raw materials for something else.” 

“I...that’s a fair point. It kind of goes against everything I’ve been learning, to destroy an artifact,” Aten sighed. 

“I know. But I’m going to use it all to make a new one, and fix the tablet. And the new one will be for us only. Text Larry, tell him we’re going to get cleaned up and ready, then we’ll be over. Tell him to have a coffee or something, get breakfast and stop freaking out.” 

Aten nodded before dashing off to the shower, then immediately coming back out of it. “Water won’t work.” 

“Sorry?” 

He shrugged. “There’s no water! I’ll have to call my landlord...” 

“If this works,” Ahk said gently. “Then we are moving somewhere nicer. I’ll figure it out, we just are.” 

“What do you have...” 

“Go get dressed,” Ahk instructed with a smile. “I’ll just stay in this, since I don’t really have anything else.” 

“My closet is open,” Aten said, then sniffled, and Ahk felt bad making him leave when he still wasn’t feeling well. 

“You surprise me then. Grab me something too, and I’ll wear it. I trust your judgement.” 

He sat with the pen and paper from his bag as Aten dashed off again to the bedroom, and started his work. He was far from an expert in this, and it had to be done just right, just so. 

But he was feeling confident. If this worked, they would both benefit, even if their relationship ever ended. 

***

At the museum, Larry was a wreck, standing in front of Ahk’s exhibit, where a ‘under construction’ sign had been placed. 

“What took you so long?” 

“We had to get dressed,” Ahk said, and watched as Larry’s eyes widened and took in the sight in front of him. 

Aten, as it turned out, had a variety of nice things hidden in his closet that he wore when he wasn’t in class or sitting at home, and while some of it was baggy on Ahk, it was better than walking around in sweats 24/7.  

A loose soft black tank top, with a white linen shirt unbuttoned over it and acid-washed skinny jeans that were tight enough he’d struggled to get them on even with Aten’s help, plus a pair of sandals that Aten had told him he certainly didn’t have to wear, there was a reason they’d stayed at the back of his closet for so long. But Ahk liked them. They were gaudy and plain brown leather with an odd set of straps, and utterly unlike anything he’d worn before, and now he found he didn’t want to take them off. 

“You...certainly did. But we’ve gotta figure this out, now, because I can’t keep the rest of the staff off of your exhibit for much longer, and the restoration expert wants me to like, quarantine your exhibit and I really need to sleep and-” 

“Breathe. I’ve got an idea. But I do need your help, and then I promise after we’ve fixed this you can go home and sleep,” Ahk interrupted, placing a hand on Larry’s shoulder. “Go get the tablet. I’m going to sneak into the back storage and get some of the artifacts I know won’t be missed.” 

Larry stared at him blankly. “Why?” 

“You’ll see later. And then Aten here is going to see if his college has access to the tools I need, and I believe it does?” 

Aten nodded, then shook his head. “Like...like a forge? I don’t know if...no, mine doesn’t, but I think Buffalo State does, or they offer something to do with metal working? But that’s six hours away.” 

“Road trip it is, then!” Ahk smiled, and left them to it as he wandered down the halls towards the storage area. 

Luckily, it was empty of any other staff as he strode through the Egyptology section, taking whatever smaller and insignificant trinkets he could find, offering up a silent prayer and thanks to wherever the object’s owner was in the afterlife for letting him use it. He didn’t need a lot, just enough to execute his plan and fix the original tablet. 

Even so, the clinking of the artifacts in the backpack borrowed from Aten was loud as he joined Aten and Larry outside of the museum. 

“Why...why is the tablet in a plastic bag?” 

“I couldn’t find anything else!” Larry fussed. “We gotta go, before they notice-” 

“They won’t, it’s fine,” Aten said. “I sort of...wrote a note. As if it was from the restoration expert. They probably don’t remember what his handwriting looks like, right?” 

“What did you say in it?” Ahk asked, smiling at Aten’s blushing. 

“That we took it to be fixed elsewhere because we needed special tools, but that it would be returned as soon as possible, and also that he came back just for this because of his dedication to your exhibit. So, as long as nobody calls him and finds out he’s still not in the city, it’ll be fine.” 

Larry sighed miserably. “This is not fine. This was the game plan?!”

“It’s all going to be fine. Just...don’t drop that,” Ahk said, carefully watching the strain of the tablet’s weight in the bag. “Maybe hold it just...normally. Not with the handles?” 

Larry looked down at the bag and nodded. “Right. Now, we do have better news than us trying to drive six hours away.” 

“One of my friends on the way out of town does metal-working, he said we can borrow his stuff,” Aten said cheerfully. “I know it isn’t like, top grade, but the other option is that we sneak onto a campus...six hours away...” 

“That’s fair,” Ahk said. “I’m not “top grade” either, when it comes to this. If my father knew I’d learned anything of metal work of any sort...” 

“You could have learned how to weave and pissed him and like, literally everyone else off too,” Aten replied. 

Ahk smiled softly. “I did, but only my mother knew about that.” 

He laughed as Aten held his hand up for a high five, while Larry cocked his head like a confused dog. 

“Is this some...academic joke, thing? It is, isn’t it? Ya know, just because I haven’t had time to read all those plaques in there, and the pamphlets, and whatever-” 

“Larry, it’s fine. In my time, weaving was usually restricted to women, and things like metal-working to those not living in a palace. That’s all,” Ahk interrupted his rant before it could start. “We should get going. You need sleep.” 

Larry simply nodded, and they piled into the cab that had pulled up near them, honking incessantly, that Ahk figured Aten and Larry must have called.

It was a shorter ride than he’d expected to the home of Aten’s friend, who didn’t question anything of what they were doing, somehow. He simply smiled, led them to his equipment in his garage and showed the rest in the backyard, and left them to it. 

“You two go rest; you both need it,” he instructed, taking the tablet from Larry as he took in the equipment. It was more modern than what he was used to, not by much (the craft could only change so much, after all), but enough that he was slightly nervous he might fail. 

But he couldn’t. 

And as Larry and Aten left him to rest on the backyard furniture, he convinced himself he wouldn’t. 

Even as it felt dicey, melting down the other artifacts and working to repair the tablet, his linen shirt tossed aside away from the work area, his tank top tucked into his jeans so he might not somehow manage to set himself on fire (he counted out not a single horrible possibility; it had been so long since he’d done it all.) Even as he worked to create the other two new artifacts, mini-tablets, sized just right to be worn as a necklace. One for him, and one for Aten. 

It took the day, and by the end of it all he was a messy; sweaty and tired and half afraid he’d somehow messed up, and he wasn’t even really done yet. 

“Larry,” he called as he brought the tablet back over. “Be careful with it. It’s hardened, but...just be careful with it for the next few hours to be safe.” 

Larry, with his mouth open, drool falling from it, didn’t stir. Nor did Aten, in a similar pose. It was almost artful, the way they mirrored each other in lounging and snoring volume, but Ahk was too tired to appreciate it for more than a moment.

“Okay. That’s fine, I’ll tell you later,” he sighed, gently setting the tablet on the small open part of the concrete slab the furniture was on, so it might not be disturbed, putting the two mini tablets beside it. 

As he dropped near the concrete slab into the grass, he heard a laugh. 

“All done?” 

Aten’s friend was leaned out of the back sliding door of the house, and shook his head at the scene. “They passed out literally before you were even a foot away, you know that right? I knew Tristan was sick, but what about that one?” 

Ahk looked to Larry and chuckled. “Night shift.” 

The friend nodded, and strode out to join him on the grass. “I used to do that. No wonder he’s whipped, if he came straight here.” 

“He did. Larry’s a good friend,” Ahk said softly. He’d really only ended up needing Larry along to transport the tablet, and he felt a bit bad now, having dragged him with when he was clearly exhausted. “So is Aten. A good...” 

“Boyfriend? He is, but he’s always had shit taste in men,” the friend laughed. “Except for now.” 

“I pass your test then,” Ahk said. “Good to hear,....” 

“Owen. And yeah, thus far, you have. He absolutely raves about you, man. I mean, look. I was married once, before I went back to school, and met Tris-Aten. And even at our most in love, I can’t think of a time I raved about my husband like that. I know you two haven’t been together long, but...I think it’s a good sign. He finally found someone good for him.” 

Ahk nodded. “And I for myself. I certainly hope he’ll find what I’ve done good for him.” 

Owen raised an eyebrow, and gestured to the tablets. “Larry and Aten told me a little bit of what was going on, some wild shit. Presuming they weren’t fucking with me about the magic stuff-” 

“All true,” Ahk said. “And the smaller two there? After I can perform the right spell in the moonlight tonight, and then one tomorrow in the morning, they’ll be just as much magic, and grant Aten and I the ultimate gift.” 

“...the big tablet brings you to life, and is what keeps you alive,” Owen said slowly. 

Ahk nodded. 

“So the little ones are gonna...no fucking way.” 

“Fucking way,” Ahk smiled. “It can be changed, of course, if a certain small square on the tablet is turned. If either of us would tire of living. But I can’t imagine I ever will, so long as I’m with him. I just hope he feels the same.” 

Owen’s gaze was soft, gentle as he chuckled. “I’m pretty positive he does. Doesn’t mean there won’t be ups and downs, I’ll tell you that now. Nothing is ever that easy. But if you’re for real, and you guys have all of time to like, talk shit out and work out arguments and all that...then I think you’ll have a fantastic time together, while the rest of us are long gone and rotting.” 

“You’re much too poetic to be an archaeology major,” Ahk smirked.

“Not sure if that’s a compliment or a dig, or both, but thanks,” Owen laughed. “And I’m not, actually. English major who needs more credits, got offered the chance to take some lower and mid-level courses in other program areas, and suddenly there I am watching a bunch of guys like Aten freak out over bones and junk. You gotta come to class one day and watch him, it’s the dorkiest shit, but the best.” 

“I’d like that,” Ahk said, and meant every bit of it. The idea of getting to watch Aten in his element, learning and sharing knowledge and being adorable the whole time, was a beautiful one. 

“I’m gonna drag these guys inside, if you wanna help,” Owen said, and gestured to the still-snoring pair nearly falling off of the lawn furniture. “Then you can do your thing out here once the moon comes out, and come bed down yourself. You guys are welcome to stay into tomorrow too; this was always too much house for me, so someone has to enjoy all the space.” 

He let Owen literally tackle Larry, who seemed as reluctant to move or wake as Ahk figured possible. 

Aten wasn’t much different, even when Ahk pressed soft kisses to his neck. 

“Hm? You done already? That was fast,” Aten slurred as he rubbed at his eyes. 

“Darling, it’s nearly nine at night,” Ahk whispered. “Come on. Owen has offered us shelter for the night and into tomorrow, and you need an actual bed.” 

“You gonna be in it?” 

“Later, sure. I’ve got one last thing to do to the tablets, then I’ll be in,” Ahk smiled. 

“Tablets?” 

His breath froze in his throat. He’d hoped Aten would be tired enough to not ask about it until the next day. 

“Yes. I fixed the original, and with the rest of the gold, I-just come look.” 

He led Aten to the tablets, and put the one bearing his name, both his legal name and nickname, into Aten’s hand. 

“For me? This is cool,” Aten said as he turned it around in his hands, examining the delicate and careful hieroglyphs Ahk had painstakingly inscribed into the gold. “Wait, lemme test out my language skills here. No laughing if I get it wrong! Okay, so...oh, there’s my name! And my nickname, neat. And...” 

Aten’s eyes bulged, and Ahk swore his heart had ceased beating yet again.

“Immortality. If I’ve got this right, and please tell me right now if I don’t, I turn this little panel in the upper left, and the same sort of magic that keeps you alive in the day and night, will make me...” 

Ahk nodded. “I know, this is perhaps the most forward and way too forward of a thing to do. But...even if we’d ever part ways, I’d want you to have it. To have the option, the choice. No one else has this, except for me, and I-I don’t want it to be that way. I want to share it, with someone I want to share everything with.” 

Aten’s eyes were still wide. 

“Please don’t be mad,” he found himself whispering.

“Mad?” Aten scoffed. “Are you kidding? This is...holy shit! This is the coolest, and that isn’t even scratching the surface. It’s amazing! I mean, look, I’ve had past boyfriends try and find cool shit to get me, but no one ever hand made me something that could make me immortal. Like, the bar was never that high of course, because none of them could do that, but...I love it. I love you. I think I’m gonna cry.” 

He already was as he hugged Ahk, who found himself crying too. “Oh thank goodness. I was terrified you might be upset, or not like it, or something. I still have to finish the spells on them, but after that, they’ll be ready to go. I had to alter the original just a bit too, in order for mine to work.” 

“How so?” 

Ahk sighed. “Well. I have it written on the original now that the magic will only apply to the inhabitants of the museum from tomorrow forward. It ends for myself an hour or so after the sun is fully risen tomorrow, then the magic from my new little tablet here takes over; which is why I have to stay up and get these two ready.” 

 “I’ll stay up with you,” Aten said through a yawn. 

Ahk took the tablet from him and left both of them by the big one on the ground as he led Aten towards the house. “No, you’re going to sleep. You need it.” 

“It isn’t fair, that you should have to stay up late on one of the first nights you actually get to sleep,” Aten protested. “Let me stay up with you.” 

“Tell you what,” Ahk said as they walked quietly through the house, past Larry draped on the living room couch, and passed a closed bedroom door where he figured Owen was. A sign, handwritten and taped on the wall, directed them to the guest room. “You can make it up to me in a few days when you’re well again, and can keep me up all night long, just you and me.” 

Aten smiled and sighed as he sat on the bed in the guest room. “You can’t tease me with that and just go.” 

“Have to, my love. The night is clear, and I need the moon for this to work, and I can’t keep her waiting,” Ahk said. “Rest easy; you get to watch me walk away. It’ll give you good dreams.” 

“Cheeky,” Aten giggled, and Ahk carried the sound with him as he went back outside, fetching his linen shirt from where he’d forgotten it in the garage and closing the garage door before heading to the tablets.

This bit, at least, was easy. The words came quickly, and he could feel the magic surge as he worked, the moonlight soft on his skin. He was no priest, nothing like the men who’d worked on the original tablet, but he got the sense the gods weren’t so picky anymore. The world had changed, and so had worship, and any tie to what had been before was grabbed tightly. It was a nice, if somewhat odd feeling, a shock of power and pure emotions leaving him a bit shaken as he finished the spells on all three tablets; new spells for the new two, and an update to the original. 

He sat in the moonlight then, willing himself to stay awake even as his eyes screamed for sleep. It was almost a good feeling, to be tired, to actually need sleep. At the same time, it was a battle he couldn’t lose, he reminded himself as he lay back on one of the lawn lounge chairs. 

He could just rest his eyes for a moment, nothing more.

Just a moment.

[lenixsocial]

👇🏻Here’s why DWTS doesn’t work anymore 👇🏻

First off, let me begin by saying I am by no means an expert. I am just a fan of the show and have been watching it (and reviewing it) with my wife @entireoranges on our podcast @3pn-official for the past ten seasons (excluding the abbreviated Atheletes season). So I feel I have at least a decent feel for the show.

Sure there have been some shock eliminations and you might even argue those eliminations are rigged or planned in some fashion (hey, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch). But it’s just one issue in a steady, long list of grievances I feel I personally need to air out about why I feel this show no longer works as it once did.

1. Family Dynamic - the show used to have this in excess. No matter your feelings on who the contestants were or what their station in life was the dynamic of deep friendship and family permeated the show. Cute little interludes were filmed, a lot more of the rehearsals were included as an edited package to show the growth the couples had together. The banter between the hosts and the judges and the hosts and the talent didn’t seem forced and awkward. It had a real family/friends vibe going. The new edits and the new packages have essentially ruined that dynamic. On top of another grievance which comes next.

2. Shocking or Salacious “Stars” - When you have a show that includes such people as Geraldo Rivera and Rick Perry you might be tempted to go and get Sean Spicer. The major issue here is that while the other two I just mentioned are problematic; both are low-end on the spectrum and aren’t as visible per say as Sean. He wasn’t just another toadie he was the mouthpiece for a corrupt leader and he lied to the people daily. He was the virtual face of that administration. That makes him a touchstone. People who support his ex-boss will flock to him and vote no matter what. Bad dance? Who cares...gotta win at all costs. People who don’t support his ex-boss feel the show is now a farce and can’t be trusted because his fans (actually supporters of his ex-boss) will vote for him regardless of how well he dances. On top of that there’s the whole morality angle to contend with. On top of this his ex-boss took the opportunity to direct his supporters (many of whom are likely bot farms) to vote for Sean. That’s right...a world leader has instructed people to vote for Sean. I’ll let that stew in your mind for a second and go on to number three.

3. Removal of Fan Favorite Cast Members - Sharna, Keo, and Artem are like family. They’re fixtures. Sure others have left (and technically Keo is still hanging around) but the way in which Artem was publicly wronged and the whole bad vibes in the Sharna situation just doesn’t sit will with fans. They are all entertaining in their own ways and the public like seeing them. A lot of people were probably turned off on them not being around. I know I was.

4. Cheapening Productions - The bombastic overblown numbers with smoke and props may have upset Len Goodman to no end but the return to technical prowess as the lead point of DWTS is well...boring. I don’t know if the other versions of DWTS in other countries are more technical and that’s where they got the idea for this ridiculous change but the American sentiment has traditionally been “wow me with things”. The spectacle is part of the show. Yes, prior to me watching the show it was more like it is presently but so many fans hopped on board in the past ten to twelve seasons and watched the show blossom. It became a production heavy show. To just rip it off like a bandage? That’s harsh.

5. Expectations of Stars - You can’t have your cake and eat it too. You can’t one moment claim it’s a dance competition and go hardcore on that to no end and say it’s terrible, and give reasons why it is sooo bad and carry on and on then smile and give the contestant a 7 when they deserved a 3. The joke has always been the show rates on a scale of 6-10. You rarely see any number below a 6. No matter how awful the critique the judges might give. There it is again...a score of seven. If this is a dance competition, then treat it like one. Score them based on your comments. Don’t give a four rated dance a seven. Part of the scores on who goes home supposedly is the judges and they blame the voters when they judge straight 7’s. If they’re bad give them lower scores!

6. Bring Back Mandy Moore - I cannot stress this enough. The new intro dances and interstitial dances are weak. They look unbalanced, and admittedly out of synch. This leads me to two more things...

7. Music - Stop picking music that doesn’t match the dance style. It’s got so much worse this season. It’s hard to dance a samba to a song that doesn’t have a rhythm that’s even remotely like a samba. In the past they at least attempted to make the song sound like the kind of music you’d use to dance to whatever dance was being performed.

8. Camera Operators - I mean are they drunk? It seems like this season they hired a bunch of interns to operate the cameras and then numbed their hands with a healthy dose of Novocain before they shoved them out into the studio.

9. Voting - The new voting effectively eliminates the west coast (for those of you in conspiracy theory mode there’s a lot of liberals on the west coast and without them voting Sean gets more votes). In reality I highly doubt it really makes much of a difference at all. I’m pretty sure some feel the show is rigged and always has been. Most reality tv is. Voting is just a way to make the public feel involved and little else. But I always at least felt the voting was fair and I’m just not getting that vibe anymore. The show needs to upend the voting to where the eliminations are done on a different night or the following week. Or not at all. Maybe just let the judges judge for a season. The instant delivery seems really rushed and well...disingenuous. I’m supposed to just trust their results tabulated that fast when I know what went down with Val and Zendaya? Yeah...still feeling that one!

10. Heart - It’s sorely lacking. The show seems concerned with ratings and not the people. Len is much harsher than he needs to be. The audience is louder than they need to be. The complete lack of care in the emotional stability of the stars is abhorrent. I lost my mother when I was 18. She died of Cancer. I feel Lauren Alaina’s pain. Her stepfather died and she loved him dearly. I’ve been there. I know how emotionally compromising it is to lose someone you are close to and love to have them wrenched from the picture like that and the feeling of watching them slowly die in front of you and knowing that there’s nothing you could’ve done to save them. So carrying that around is hard enough. Performing is even harder (in my case I performed a song at my mothers funeral on guitar). I bawled after it. I was a mess. That was only a week after she died. It doesn’t go away. You may look alright but you aren’t. You feel that. She danced in front of millions on TV. And she went to the security of her mother’s arms immediately afterwards. The show could’ve just glossed over that and gone to break or shot up to Erin in the lounge or whatever but no...we got Gleb awkwardly trying to wrench her away from her mother to hear the judges reactions for a few moments then her standing there wholly unable to speak without crying exposed and in the spotlight. Then she began hyperventilating and couldn’t breathe and still they had her standing there. No chair offered, no rushing her off stage to get help. Made to stand. Mercifully Tom Bergeron is a decent human being and gave her tissues and a little comfort but even I saw him basically disobeying the orders from the booth in his ear when he went to commercial for her sake. It was awkward, greedy, and well...disgusting to watch. I got an instant feeling of revulsion which stands to this very moment. That alone should have made me stop watching but I realize it’s all about money anyway. But even so...have a little fucking heart, DWTS. Jeez!

All of this being said I know there will be some who get all “well if you don’t like it then don’t watch it” and yeah, that’s a fair assessment. But I do like it. I just want it to get better so ABC doesn’t cancel it and from what I’m hearing fans aren’t impressed with the changes that have been made.

I have enjoyed this show now for ten seasons and there have been some absolutely stellar moments and there have been some missteps but this season thus far is a complete train wreck. I’ll continue watching it but I really hope they at least revert back to the way it was last season (if they avoid cancellation).

[koltarmi]

things i noticed/liked/thought while i was watching anastasia live ver 2.0

This past summer, I got the chance to go see Anastasia again and was lucky enough to see it with a whole new cast! At that point, Zach Adkins had become the principal Dmitry, Molly Rushing was Anya, Ken Krugman was Vlad, Max Von Essen was Vlad, Lily was Vicki Lewis, and the Dowager was Janet Dickson. 

Details are below:

Act 1

Kelli Youngman did an extra twirl trailing behind the rest of the Romanov sisters

Dima sounds real pissed especially in the beginning of he song. He gave off a kind of old movie conman vibe with the attitude and accent in "A rumour"

Ken did some preening in "a rumour" when talking about hobnobbing with the Royals

Dmitry yells "WE'LL BE OUT.” in the attitude one would say, "BYE, WE OUT BITCHES”

My first crush ever was on the animated Dmitry solely because of that belt on "the biggest con in  history" gave me chills every damn time. I was so pleased that Derek exceeded my expectations and I was always worried no one else could compare, but damn was I wrong because Zach did as equally well on that.

Instead of raising a chair in defence, Dimitry hides behind the couch he was lounging on.

Zach's Dimitry doesn't have the biting sarcasm of Derek's version, which is great. Who would want to watch the same performance after all? It's softer and he drawls his witty remarks which still have the same amount of sting as Derek's Dmitry who's remarks are quick and blunt.

Ken's Vlad does this over the top bow when he introduces himself to Anya.

Molly's version of Anya and Zach's version of Dimitry reminded me more of the dynamic between the two in the movie.

MOLLY'S VOICE WHEN SHE SINGS "In My Dreams” 😍😍😍😍

When Vlad teaches Anya how to walk properly, she sticks her arms and out and sort of bounces along which Vlad then mocks doing the flappy arm thing from “Paris Holds the Key”

Ken's Vlad adds a lilting tone to the end of some sentences giving them a touch of humour.

Anya's breakdown in “Learn to Do It” is not teary. In fact, it's the complete opposite. She is absolutely pissed off.

Vlad does a tsking sound when Dimitry tries to argue with Anya while she's angry.

When Dmitry steps on Anya's foot while they're dancing, Vlad looks so exasperated and says, “Just... just...just...” cue loud sigh. 

When Anya kicks Dmitry's shin, a scolding voice.

The third time around he takes in a deep breath and counts in a higher pitched tone. 

Dmitry looks so offended when Vlad says Russian was for common folks like him. 

The Russian telephone that works line he chuckled for a long time before realizing oh fuck his boss didn't find that funny.

When Anya is brought in, MVE's Gleb doesn't use intimidation. He acts more like the good cop.

When he does realize who he's talking to. His demeanour changes and he stutters before dismissing the officers with a wave of his hand and a "eep" like noise (this is like the best I can describe it).

After he says it's the uniform and the office that make the bad impression, he proves it by plastering on a wide grin.

In the last refrain of “The Neva Flows”, Anya sings the refrain along with him playing the part of a loyal comrade who knows better now, except she stops when he sings, “The Tsar lies cold”.

The drunk guys aren't as excited when they tell that the Tsar is drinking his vodka in hell. Instead the sorta half mumble and sound tired.

Love the way James Peirce says, “Girrrrrrrrrlfriend” and how the group of them sway in a circle to look at Anya.

Molly chasing after those guys while screaming was adorable and hilarious.

In the beginning of “My Petersburg”, for the first few verses Zach sort of says-sings them, belts on the first “Petersburg” then goes in to full force singing into “I've bartered for a blanket/stolen for my bread”.

At the end of the first verse, he nods his head forward and tells Anya, “Come on.”

Zach growls the line “rough company” and holy shit i was shook.

Why did they cut Anya and Dimitry singing “You and I on the fly/just in time” I love it so much.

His response to Anya when she says that neither of them has a family is so earnest it hurts me. Derek's Dmitry says it hesitantly almost forgetting he's conned Anya into this, while Zach's Dimitry is softer and assures her that her family is waiting for her in Paris and I honestly don't which interpretation I like better because I love both of them.

The tone he uses when he tells Anya the object she's holding a music box is exactly the same when he tells her it's broken and that made the audience chuckle.

When Anya opens the music box, Dmitry throws his hands up, rolls his eyes in exasperation, and walks away when Anya opens up the music box on her first try. 'Of fucking course she got it open on her first try,’

When he asks her how she opened it, he sounds more curious than he does confused.

The seats we had this time were way closer to the projections on the wall and holy shit, they look even more magical up close that I wanted to touch them. 

My sister teared up by the end of “Once Upon a December” because the song made her so sad and nostalgic at the same time. 

Dmitry sounds so regretful when he tells Anya that they don't have enough to get out of Russia.

They drop a coin when Dmitry tries to give Anya back her money and for the rest of the scene and the next one, I kept worrying someone would slip on it. 

When she talks about how stubborn Dmitry is she says the part about him being almost as stubborn like her in a somewhat bragging tone.

Molly's singing when during the little reprise of “In My Dreams” about the diamond is just absolutely gorgeous.

Man, Constantine Germancos and the rest of the ensemble singing “Stay, I Pray You” gives me chills everytime. Hearing it live is just so much more gut wrenching than the album. For the first stay, I pray you, he holds the word “stay” a little.longer and DAMN.

Anya rolls her eyes and gets up to walk around the train when Vlad says he loved the diamond studded watch more than Lily.

Lyrica Woodruff and Kristen Smith-Davies made a really an exaggerated motion of scooting over when Zach had one foot on the bench that got a chuckle out of a few people.

Anya slides off the top of the bench she's sitting on when the train comes to a sudden stop.

When the jump off the train the scene turns black, but for some reason this time the lighting from the two offices (Gleb's and his superior officer's, which was on stage right) made it bright enough that you could see Molly, Zach, and Ken hurry offstage

MVE's “Still” 👌🔥✔👌✔👌👌🔥✔🔥🔥🔥👌

When Vlad says that Anya will break his heart, he laughs it off. But when Vlad tells her how he'll never see her if she's accepted as the real Anastasia, the realization of his friend's warning hits him like a ton of bricks.

TBH, a little disappointed Dmitry didn't bound offstage like a young goat, he just ran.

Molly's smile is absolutely radiant when she finishes “Journey to the Past”.

Act 2

Vlad's shaggy beard is gone when they change into their fancy Paris clothes.

Zach is a much better dancer than Derek. The boy's talent lies in his voice not his coordination while Zach seems to be a better balance between vocal power and dance. 

The look Anya and Dmitry shared as they circled each other was goddamn magnetic and when he offers a hand to dance and she gets twirled away by someone else the look on his face is so disappointed that it wrecked me. 

Molly's “Crossing a Bridge” is so full of hope it makes me emotional. Her voice singing that song is so pure???!! Like that's the only way I feel describes it correctly.

I don't remember if Christy did this, but when Vlad announces he's going to try find Lily, Anya reaches up to neaten Vlad's bowtie in a good luck gesture of sorts.

Vicki Lewis' Lily is not as comedic as Caroline O'Connor's. She has much more serious and drier humour, which perfectly compliments Ken's Vlad.

The best way I can describe it is Vicki's Lily is basically a Vodka Aunt ™

This Count Leopold is less slimy more pompous.

MBP's Dowager is full of grieving and sadness while Janet's Dickson's is tired and bitter. Also the way she drags the word “Cleaveland” with disgust was pretty funny. 

The way she sings “tell them/no more” she really puts emphasis on the “no more” which makes her sound so defeated. 

At the entrance of the Neva Club, Lily says this to the doorman after greeting her a good evening: “The only good thing it means there's one day less.” She then laughs and says she's being Russian and with a deadpan expression and tone she looks out to the audience and says, “I love life.”  which is such a big mood. 

When everyone is passed out at the Neva Club during “Land of Yesterday”, Vicki's Lily is dancing and drinking from an empty vodka bottle without hands before she wakes them all up by belting a high note.

When Lily and Vlad go outside to talk and she acts cold to him, she very purposefully drops her handkerchief and Vlad rushes to pick it up.

During “The Countess and the Common Man”  when Lily says she loved him, Vlad pauses for a few seconds looking for the right words to say before hesitantly replying, “You loved me,” which got a chuckle out of the audience.

The two really drew out the part where they're exhausted. Vlad was finding his pulse while Lily took a breath and stretched. 

Ken and Vicki really went at it. Like she straight up was feeling up his butt. 

The part where he belts “the Common Man”, Vicki wrapped herself around his leg which made them look like the cover of bodice-ripper harlequin novel. 

MVE's reprise of “Land of Yesterday” The man has a voice like velvet. 

When Dmitry rushes in to reassure Anya, he sounds so genuine and honest. It's clear he's head over heels in love with her and he's forgotten the whole thing is a con. 

After Dmitry sings his part in “In a Crowd of Thousands” Anya scoots a little closer to him when he sits back down at the bed. 

BOTH MOLLY AND ZACH'S VOICES IN THE SONG MY GOD, IT MADE THE AUDIENCE FELT LIKE THEY WERE INTRUDING ON A PRIVATE MOMENT.  

So when Anya sings that young Dmitry was “not too clean”, Derek used to act jokingly offended but Zach's Dmitry is just so enraptured by Anya telling her side of the story he's just smiling at her the whole time like wow pro tip get yourself a zach's version in Dmitry who looks so lovingly at Molly's Anya cause that's true love. 

That loving smile becomes a look of shock, confusion, and the slightest bit of hope when Anya goes, “And then he bowed.”

I LOVR THE WAY MOLLY SAYS, “You didn't have to. I remember.” It's not surprise or shock at the sudden memory. She says it like a fact. Water is wet, fire is hot, the sky is blue, and I remember the boy on the street who made me smile, it was you. It's been you all this time.

The rush towards each other, so utterly happy, but then Zach's Dimitry suddenly realizes what's he doing and freezes. He pulls away from Anya and that look on his voice is so similar to the look he had in PHTK when she gets spun away from him. 

So I timed this as soon as they walked offstage, Zach had about 55 seconds to change while Molly had about 70 seconds to change.

Quartet of the Ballet, man. The lyrics are the same, but sung by different people who have different interpretations of the same characters is whole new damn experience. 

Zach and Max's voices went really well together and I want a duet between them immediately. 

In “Everything to Win”, Zach sings beautifully and then says "wHY PANIC NOW??” and resumes his lovely singing which got a chuckle out of the audience. Boi looked like he was gonna lose his goddamn mind. 

When Anya comes out, he asks her in a hopeful voice, “What happened?” and her stoic facial expression turns into one of complete and utter betrayal and anger.

The confrontation between Maria and Dmitry is a totally different tone, because neither them holds back and basically yells in the other's face.

“I was hungry and desperate when I met you, but I wasn't dishonest. I hate you for that.” She says the last sentence so quietly you can almost miss it, but damn if that doesnt hurt I don't know what would because we've seen an annoyed, violent, and angry Anya. This quiet anger and betrayal is so much worse.

When they're back in the hotel and Anya is packing her things, she throws the doll Dmitry bought her and it falls to the ground. And when she's ripping  Vlad a new one, she rips the medallion looking thingy from his suit and throws it on the ground.

Again, Janet's Maria is again tired and bitter and it really shows in the scene between her and Anya.

When Maria and Anya hug, Dmitry is in the background, the doll she threw away in his hand.

Just like in “Land of Yesterday”, Vicki's Lily belts a high note to silence the press in “The Press Conference”

The confrontation between Anya and Gleb is just so intense. He tries playing the good cop card again, when it's clear she won't fall for it, he becomes more clear with his threats. 

I remember seeing video of Christy adding this move in The Neva Flows Reprise where she falls back into the chair and Molly does it as well, she backs up into the chair as if this conversation physically hurts her and pushes her back, defeated into the chair, head slumped.

When he demands one last time, who she is, we see the Anya we know and love return in full force. Her head and spine that was slumped straightens as she stares him down and walks toward right into his gun, proudly declaring that she is The Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevena Romanov.

And it seems her confidence and courage in her identity weakens Gleb's. His hand shakes as he points the gun at her chest. He tries to point it at her head, but that just weakens his resolve and he crumples into the ground, dropping his gun. (If I haven't made it clear, I fucking love MVE's interpretation of Gleb)

The whole conversation between the two after this is softer and filled with quiet understanding and regret. And they part as comrades both knowing the truth.

The way Zach's Dmitry says, "I don't want to be in love with someone I can't have," is so bitter like he believes that now that Anya is proven to be Anastasia he will never be worthy of her love, which he is 110% wrong.

Molly's Anya says the line about her first kiss with a prince like a fact. 

When they kiss, Dmitry is shocked like his wildest dreams has come true before he realizes this is real and just gently kisses her back.

[ko-fanatic]

Creek Blues

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club

Relationships: Kyoya x Nekozawa

Trigger Warnings: Depression, paranoia, possible cotard delusion, unhealthy relationship, smoking, suicide.

Summary: Kyoya has some issues. A Kyoya without Tamaki, who never met the idiotic, amazing blond... Well, it's not worth thinking about. He's not worth thinking about.

Pills eat through you like acid burning holes Through your head, your mind, your bones and enamel Handcuffed to the bed like you’re an animal I don’t even recognise you anymore

Kyoya stared at himself in the mirror, analysing every shadow and blemish that marred his pale skin, poking and prodding at his own face. He looked sick, the pills shedding what little weight he had and thinning him out into something fragile. He looked how he felt, all too fittingly. His black hair hung limp and messy, getting into his red-rimmed eyes and making it hard to see.

He liked it that way, sort of. It was hard to like anything about what he saw these days, but he could trick himself into thinking it was all okay when he couldn't see it. Like they say - out of sight, out of mind. This version of messy looked like it was purposeful; baggy hoodies and jeans with cigarette burns, trying to tell himself that the hot ash in his lungs made it all bearable. He didn't smoke often, and only one or two at a time, but it rubbed a soothing balm over his frayed nerves. It was some sort of simulated steadiness.

He grimaced slightly as he popped his pill from its package, studying it with a dead-eyed stare before swallowing it down, dry. Weren't these things supposed to fix all this? Perhaps he needed something different, or a higher mg, or maybe he was just meant to be so fucking numb and sad all the time.

The only times he was close to happy were when he was doing things he just shouldn't. Smoking, sharing nicotine stained kisses with Umehito as the handcuffs bit into his thin wrists, toes curling into the mattress and gasps and moans mingling with the occasional creak of the wooden bed-frame. Good boys didn't do those things, but they made him feel the most alive he had in a while, his nerve endings on fire and every colour and smell so vibrant.

It wasn’t like the pills, which ate through his emotions and his brain, leaving him a shell. It was exhilaration, the thrill of casting his sense of self away for a while. It wasn’t like it was all rose-tinted bliss, of course not; he had a sense of guilt, he knew how people would react if they knew, and so he kept it a closely guarded secret. It was okay, and it helped both Umehito and himself.

But despite both his medication and the ones he prescribed for himself, it never helped his reflection. It kept changing, kept getting more and more miserable, the shadows under his eyes only making the slight jut of the bony socket look even more pronounced.

Try to put you down like an old dog to sleep Cut your branches off but you’re a dying tree The doctors came and pulled the sheet up over your head You’re already dead, you just don’t know it yet

Sitting in the seat in the middle of the classroom, not too far forward but not too far back, he had to wonder if he was just dead, wandering through this ghostly facsimile of life in some effort to… what? Find some sense of inner peace? Or perhaps he was just stuck in this hellish limbo. It would make sense, with how quiet and isolated he seemed to be from every other person. Teachers stopped calling on him but didn’t ask questions as his grades weren’t bad – yet. His classmates never really bothered with him anyway, but it was like they couldn’t even see him.

It was almost like the soft flesh of his face rotted away, leaving bone and scraps of ashen, discoloured skin. Everything was disintegrating, turning green and black and viscous. Nothing worked as it should, his lungs clogged with tar, his stomach shrivelled, tongue unable to taste anything but the sharp sourness of bile. For all intents and purposes, he was dead.

Maybe that’s what the pills really did. Maybe it was the doctors trying to just end his suffering, letting him rot away painlessly, no one noticing. He hated that no one saw, but he’d just hate it more if he made anyone concerned over someone as ultimately unimportant and inconsequential as himself. The pills were supposed to put him down, but it just elongated the process into something more painful as everyone recited the same phrase – “for the good of your health”.

When the bell rang, he didn’t hesitate. His satchel was thrown over his shoulder and his feet were pounding against the polished floors. Paranoia swirled in his head, and it was all just too loud. Students talking, laughing, yelling. It pounded against his head and pushed cotton through his ears. Everything felt so much, and it was impossible to escape.

“Kyo -”

He barely registered Kanan’s voice as he ran passed her, head turned away and hair in his face. He didn’t want to talk to her, didn’t want to talk to anyone; he just needed Umehito’s shoulder and nicotine kisses, and he’d be calm again. He kept the noise out of his head, turning it to blissful static.

You are sick and I hate you and love you for it You’re a wreck but I’m always going to want you

Umehito’s fingers wrapped around the cigarette as daintily as some early twentieth century starlet, appearing in the glamourous Hollywood films his grandmother liked. His own was in a slack hold, the seat of his trousers getting dirty from the filth on the step, arm resting on his knee like some wannabe punk. It clashed with his mostly neat uniform, the usually tidy hair, and his bookish glasses.

Their thighs touched, pressed into the tight space to avoid the teachers, neither wanting their reputations on the line. Gum and body spray helped mask it, but it meant nothing they were caught red-handed, or yellow-fingered. The smoke burned in his chest and settled the spiral of thoughts his mind tried to drag him into, and that’s what mattered. After all, it was better than breaking down in the bathroom or lashing out at other students like some cornered animal.

Umehito knocked their shoulders together, giving him a smile as the butt of his cigarette was ground into the concrete. “Do you feel better?” He asked, hood slung low, only half of his eyes visible. It wasn’t that bright out, clouds obscuring the light in thick layers of dark grey, promising rain. Maybe even a storm, thunder and lightning crashing furiously.

They made him feel odd, some paradoxical mix of serenity in the centre of it and violent waves of emotion, it was as stable as the rest of him – not at all.

He stood, brushing off his trousers and dropping his cigarette to the ground, not even bothering to stamp it out. Instead, he moved so seamlessly that he could’ve sworn he glided through the damp air, head tilted to the sky. Of course, Umehito followed him with that worried expression on his face, but he didn’t pay much attention until only one step separated him from the sheer drop down from the roof, his brains splattered across the gravel pathways.

“Hey,” He began, eerily calm, and he could almost feel the dread that stiffened his boyfriend’s shoulders, “If I were to jump right now, would you cry?”

Umehito breathed out sharply, but not at all surprised, something strained in the back of his throat. He shook his head, a hand reaching towards him but not touching, too frightened to push him too far, too hard, and send him tumbling down. “You know I would,” Was the sad, almost watery reply, “I’ve told you before.”

“I wouldn’t cry for me, I’d laugh and spit on my corpse – good riddance,” Kyoya thought but didn’t say, taking Umehito’s hand as he stepped down from the ledge.

I hate to see the knife always under your arm Alone at night, cutting up neighbourhood dogs You snuck me to your daddy’s bedroom Showed me all his guns You said, “Careful or you’ll blow your head off Make sure the safety’s on”

Umehito’s staring at him incredulously, almost as if he sprouted a second head. The pistol that lay between them was black, basic, barely catching the light; it almost looked like a toy. Of course, being so thin and delicate, there was no way that Kyoya could win in a hand to hand fight, so it was dealt with and a solution was found. Only to be used in dire circumstances, of course, and only if one of the bodyguards weren’t there. Scream first, shoot later. But it was intriguing all the same.

He picked the gun up once more, a small quirk to his lips as he felt the weight in his hands and just took in the situation. Umehito looked almost horrified at the reveal, which he supposed made sense, those kissable lips opening and closing without a single word.

“For self-defence,” He clarified, shifting position slightly so he could take his weight off his legs, knees bruised. All of him was black and blue, in fact, and they cropped up without warning. It was an odd thing, but he couldn’t be bothered to think on it much, “Of course, I don’t know if I really would use it. I mean… It’d be too easy to just let it all happen, wouldn’t it? Besides, if it really did get too much, I could just…”

He placed the gun against his temple, but it wasn’t even half a second before Umehito wrenched it out of his hands. He was so concerned, so determined to keep him in this tenuous connection he had to his life. It was cruel, and he knew it, but it helped him feel as if he wasn’t as useless as he thought. That he really would be missed.

“Relax. The safety’s on.”

Leaving things to die in the mud at the creek Pumping shotgun slugs out into the trees You run your fingers on the wood and feel its bullet holes It gives you something I could never give you or ever really know

Umehito just watched him as he loaded the handgun, aiming and firing the entire round into the bark of an old tree. He could tell that he wasn’t happy with this, standing in the shade with his arms crossed under his robe, but if he was that uncomfortable then he could leave. He never made him come after all, and the recent attitude Umehito had towards his actions was mostly “if it doesn’t hurt anyone, then it’s okay”.

He was just some kid who kicked out under pressure, like a stubborn mule. He’d punch and bite and kick, he’d get angry and scream, but it was all inside his head. It was all just violent fantasy that would be realised as he shot out the bullets into something that couldn’t feel. The trees just took the gunshot wounds and didn’t cry out at all, because they didn’t have a mouth. Meanwhile, his was just forced shut.

He walked forwards, shoes slipping slightly in the mud and wet leaves, examining the tan flesh the peaked out from the greyed bark. The bullet ripped straight through it, and as he ran his fingertips around the holes, he could feel the sharp sting of splinters, and he pushed a little harder, embedding them in his skin. He didn’t know why, an impulse like the one Junji Ito portrayed in Amigara Fault. An impulse you can’t explain, that won’t have a good end, but you’re still compelled to. He was oddly impulsive these days.

You are sick and I hate you and love you for it You’re a wreck but I’m always going to want you

Laying in bed, surrounded by the soft covers and Umehito’s warm arms, he felt guilt. He knew he wasn’t the boyfriend he could be, that wasn’t deserving of someone’s love, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help but spill his guts and vomit words that left a sharp sting in his throat and a bad taste in both of their mouths. He worried him and relished in it, thrived of it, like a parasite.

The thing to do would be change, or failing that, leaving. But he couldn’t do either, because ultimately, he was too sick and too selfish. Too damaged. He couldn’t mend it, not at all, and he didn’t even try.

Instead, he just nuzzled closer, Umehito’s heartbeat in his ears. His voice was soft. “You know I love you, right?”

No answer.

And I don’t want to know what you’ve done Or what you think about doing I don’t want to know, so don’t tell me

[unleashthemidnight]

Congratulations

Pairing: Reader x Lucifer Synopsis: There were the happier times until came the time for you to run away, and now you are standing against Lucifer once again wondering your next step. Word count: ~1800 Warnings: Angst, running away from emotions and things, Gabriel's death Notes: I want to appreciate @authoressskr and @sumara62 because this happened and so this fic was born. Love you. <3 I used song lyrics in this, songs are listed at the end. Hope you all enjoy. Do Not Repost Reblogs and comments are loved

His blue eyes looked you softly, his hands brushing yours to make sure you felt grounded, his words coming out from his lips without a second thought. He was collected. You were going through one of the bumps in your life and he knew how to handle it. He had noticed your shakiness, your trembling voice and your watery eyes. The eyes that he could have stared for hours. The eyes that shined so bright when they were full of joy. The eyes that were his new home. Just seeing those eyes filling with sadness had stopped him doing whatever was going on. He had calmed himself down, for you. He knew that him being his usual dramatic self was too much for your fragile emotional state. He needed to talk to you with peaceful manner, with voice full of care. If he yelled or paced around, you wouldn't have listened to him or the words he was saying. You would have run away and left him. He didn't want that to happen. He only wanted you. He loved you. You raised your eyes to meet his. ”Just listen to me, please. Take a deep breath. There you go, little one. I don’t want you to go. I don't want you to leave me. I will make things better. I need you to trust me with this. I want you with me. I... I need you. - - I’m begging you.”

How much you wanted that image to be real was beyond your comprehension. You loved Lucifer so much and those feelings won't die easily. How easy it would be to decide that you don't care or love something and then you just wouldn't anymore. So many hearts would be saved. The thoughts on your head only played different versions of what if situations. What if this last version you played in your head would have been true? What if he wasn't so hot-tempered and quick to make decisions for once? What if he had used just a second to think about you and your feelings? That was what you had needed but never gotten. He yelled. He paced around. He was so aggressive in his ways to throw stuff on the walls and then kicking the broken pieces on the floor so they would shatter even more. You saw yourself in those broken vases and lamps, breaking more at every second and every word. The tension was high and you weren't sure how much long you could take it. The power of his voice reminded you once more who you were with. You felt so small. You wanted all this to stop. You wanted to move on from this moment. You wanted to beg, and so you did. Saying those words felt like throwing up. It was awful and you only hoped that it would work. Maybe it would have, if he had listened to you. But he didn't. He didn't hear you beg like your heart begged you to save itself. All of this was too much for you. You couldn't take this anymore. You made your mind. You ran away and left him. You felt so confused, and stupid. Your life had changed once again. Admittedly your relationship didn't start with the best terms but Lucifer was drawn to you and your eyes from very beginning. He acted differently around you, it seemed like he had a soft spot for you. Little by little there were more moments when he just came to see what you were doing, to ask you questions and get to know you. There wasn't any talking about the eventual. Your meetings happened always when Winchesters were elsewhere and you wanted to keep your meetings secret. It was for the better; not only was Sam Lucifer's vessel and brothers were enemies with him, but you had slowly fall in love. You were scared about brothers' reactions so you kept it all secret. Because of that, you hadn't anyone to talk about your current state and thoughts. Being a hunter meant that you hadn't friends outside of the hunter-circles and telling anyone of them that you were basically dating the devil… Yeah, that wasn't going to happen. You had played the conversations over and over only to lost the count. You had dig the deepest wells and lost yourself on the way down. You were a wreck. You didn't know exactly when the nightmare started, you couldn't figure when your picture was starting to fall apart. Was it the moment when he had felt comfortable enough to talk about his true feelings? He had threw his accusations to everyone and you had listened. You had tried to understand his side of the things and calm him down after all the steam was blown out. You had have the magic touch to tame the beast. But Lucifer couldn't let go of things. You had heard the same things so many times that you already knew what he was going to say next. Word by word, what someone had said or done, how people blamed him for their own stupid decisions without realising there would be consequences. But even when Lucifer was wrong, he had found the fault from someone else's doings. He had been the golden boy, the once innocent and heaven sent, and so he saw himself still. You had took it all in and let it slide until you couldn't anymore. Every story has to come to its end and you needed to cut yourself out of this one. Your mind ran on circles. The time had passed. Many people and monsters had passed. You would probably stand against Lucifer once more. How it would feel? How it would feel to look at the one who you loved once? To look at the one who tored your heart out? Would he actually kill you for his next trick? The cycle had gotten so bad that you already thought of death, and you found yourself thinking how Lucifer would end you. Maybe this was his plan all along. Maybe he wanted you to run away and when you did, it was win for him. Maybe he didn't love you and wanted you out, and playing with your emotions and weaknesses was the best way to do that. The best way to torture you. Maybe he couldn't face his true feelings for you and was scared. Or maybe he just didn't realise what was going on because you didn't open up and the focus was lately more on him than on you. Maybe he just couldn't see how he was already killing you slowly. You had to get a grip of yourself. You needed to stop thinking about all of this. You had a job. Even if you couldn't talk with Winchesters about this, you could still rely on them and go on hunt with them. You needed distractions and hunting was the answer. The road that had lead you at Elysian Fields Hotel had been long and full of twist and turns. Sam and Dean were helping people out of the place but you turned back. No matter how much you had hated how the fairytale ended, there was still small but even stronger piece of hope in your heart. Maybe you could make things right again, just stop all of this from happening. The moment when you had walked back in the room made you feel paralysed, frozen in time. You saw and heard it all. If you ever wanted to close your eyes and make it all go away, this was the moment. The walls around you could have crashed down and you wouldn't have hear or seen that. The only thing that you could see was Lucifer, and Gabriel's body on the ground. Lucifer noticed you standing at the door, and took couple of steps towards you like he was trying to intimidate you. It was reflex for him at this point. As much as he had hurted you, he was still hurting from your leaving. ”Don't you have anything to say? Did I went too far this time for your taste? Don't you want to run away from me, again? ” Lucifer questioned you with mocking sound in his voice. ”Congratulations,” you answered with flat voice when grounding yourself to the moment. ”Congratulations?” Lucifer tilted his head and squinted his eyes. ”For what?” ”You got what you wanted. You won. You got your shot, you wore me down, you tore my heart out. You kept the reapers busy. You have caused death and destruction. You fucking killed your own brother, the one who still loved you and wanted to give you yet another chance. Like me, I gave you so many chances because I cared about you, I loved you. And sometimes I can't even remember the reason why I did. So congratu-fucking-lations.” There were moment of silence. You swept tears from your face with your sleeve. The last time you did that was when you had run away. Finally you had poured your emotions and anger out to someone, no matter if that someone was the one who had caused all of that. It was relief to say the things that were occupying your mind. It helped to clear the months of chaos in our head. You sighed and took deep breath. You looked at Lucifer and saw him looking at his dead brother and marks of burned wings. You felt your heart and gut twisting. Gabriel had been your friend, he was only trying to save you and the rest of the humanity. He didn't deserve this. You lifted your eyes back to Lucifer who was still looking at the corpse. There was signs of thinking and signs of remorse. It caused you to do something you didn't thought you would ever do again. You wanted to reason with him. “Lucifer,” you broke the silence and got the archangel's attention, ”just know that you don't need to do any of this anymore. You can leave this all behind and move on. Sure we can't go back the way we were, not for a long time, but I would gladly help you to readjust yourself for the new life. The world is a bad place but as Gabriel said, we are trying to be better. We are trying to forgive each other, we are trying to learn. It is what he wanted. You need a big move to make it right. You can begin again.” “I really don’t think you get it now. No matter how much anyone begs me to stop, how much they want me to change, I… I never will.” Lucifer glanced at you and next thing you heard was flutter of his wings. This time, he was the one who ran away.

Tag list: @pizzamanteachings Songs used in the fic:

Rachel Platten – Congratulations x

Rachel Platten – Begin again x

[voidheichou]

Flights and Memories - A Stydia Fic

A/N: So this is my first ever Stydia fic, based on a conversation that I had with @cashtonclemmo a few days ago. It’s basically my version of how Teen Wolf should end for Stiles and Lydia, enjoy!

Summary: Stiles has time to kill on his long flight. What better way to do it than to think about how far his relationship has developed with his new wife, Lydia?

Warnings: Me being emotional about Stydia, maybe an overload of fluff, none besides that i think.

Stiles Stilinski felt like the luckiest man in the world. Currently sitting on a plane, a few thousand feet above the ground, the FBI agent was admiring his view of the world outside the aircraft. The sun was starting to set along the horizon, a display of bright colours illuminating Stiles’ field of vision. The young man couldn’t help but relate to the intense shades blending into one another, finally feeling as though everything in life was falling into place after years of chaos.

He remembered when he first grasped the concept of restoring some kind of order back into his life. He was 18 years old. It was the night that he and the rest of the pack had defeated the ghost riders and that awful Nazi werewolf. The night that he and Lydia were finally on the same page about their feelings. She returned to the Stilinski household with him and the Sheriff that night, refusing to leave the younger Stilinski’s side. The pair confessed their feelings for each other, and shared details of what the previous 3 months had been like without the other’s presence. If anything, the distance and slight memory loss on Lydia’s part had just brought the duo closer than ever before. Lydia didn’t want to know how it felt to be disconnected from him ever again, and Stiles? Well, he couldn’t agree more with his girlfriend at the time if he tried.

Stiles watched as Lydia slept in his arms on that very night, clutching onto his t-shirt as if he was her lifeline. Despite her strong grip, this was the most peaceful Stiles had seen Lydia in the decade that he had known her for. Everything that made him happy and content was bundled up in his blankets right beside him. In that moment, Stiles decided that he’d be damned if anything came in between him and his happiness, especially concerning Lydia Martin, ever again.

Stiles’ little walk down memory lane was interrupted when he felt a slight movement on his right shoulder. Turning from the window, his eyes caught sight of an even more beautiful view than the one outside. Like the memory from 5 years ago that he was just reminiscing, Lydia was asleep next to Stiles, her head resting on his shoulder, her strawberry blonde hair splayed out on both of them. Of course, the biggest difference between that night and now was that she was no longer his girlfriend. From today onwards, the two were married to one another, ‘til death do they part.

The last 5 years contained plenty hard times for the couple, that were unconventional to what they were used to dealing with. The supernatural issues had died down a little, but with college separating the two, Stiles and Lydia had new problems to face. With Lydia attending MIT and Stiles in George Washington University, the distance between them was a good 7 hours by car at the least. Stiles was riddled with insecure thoughts, constantly wondering whether he was still good enough for his girlfriend, along with the distance and the guys at MIT who, according to him, were no doubt much better at everything than Stiles was. He had never been one to feel good about himself, so he felt like he would understand if Lydia did decide to leave him. Of course though, Lydia didn’t agree with Stiles’ opinions. A lot of her relationships in the past were unhealthy, but that changed when she was with him. Even before they were in a relationship, Stiles constantly showed Lydia how much he cared for her, which in turn made Lydia care for the Stilinski boy just as much. She never ceased to reassure him of how good he was to her, and more importantly, how no one could ever compare to Stiles in any aspect.

The pair looked out for each other, and always got through things together. With the help of technology, Stiles and Lydia would talk to each other almost every day. From simple texts to snapchats to facetime, the couple remained up to date with each other’s lives. This meant that it was easy to discern when one of them was stressed or worried about something, college work or otherwise. Sometimes they didn’t even need to tell each other that they were specifically stressed; The pitch in Lydia’s voice would rise unknowingly when talking about anything, and Stiles would become more reserved in himself, giving shorter replies and not talking much on the phone. When one of them recognised these traits in their partner’s behaviour, they would drive out as soon as possible to be with them, usually on the closest weekend. They’d comfort each other for as long as needed, and would inevitably drive around in their respective towns, spending as much time with each other as possible before they’d have to separate once more. The drives always occurred in the Jeep, never in Lydia’s car. Stiles always claimed that it was more authentic to drive around in Roscoe, and even though Lydia agreed, she would never admit that to him, knowing that he would just boast about his loyal car with this information.

Stiles smiled down at his sleeping wife, knowing that she’d always be there for him just as much as he would be there for her. He kissed her forehead lightly, running his hands through her soft hair afterwards, knowing how much she loved the feeling of it, especially when she was tired. He knew everything about this woman, the love of his life. She was single-handedly the smartest and most beautiful person in the world, and he couldn’t believe that she was his. Even though they were dating for 4 years before he proposed, and then got married today, over a year later, he still couldn’t fathom that she decided to stay with Stiles when she could literally have any guy that she wanted.

He still remembered how nervous he felt leading up to proposing to the girl of his dreams. He needed it to be perfect, so he enlisted the help of Scott and Kira, planning the event for weeks. When he first spoke to Scott about the idea, he was a complete wreck.

“But Scott, what if she says no? What if she’s never even thought about getting married or what if she doesn’t feel ready to take our relationship to the next level or what if -”

“Stiles!” Scott had to cut his best friend off. He was thankful for supernatural senses, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to decipher a single word that Stiles had just said, all while seemingly forgetting to breathe. Scott stood from the couch, walking over to where his best friend was now frozen from when he was pacing originally. He put an arm on his shoulder and spoke in a much softer tone than how Stiles was speaking just moments ago.

“Listen, dude. Even if I couldn’t hear her heartbeat and smell her pheromones, I’d still be able to tell that Lydia is more than head over heels in love with you.”

Stiles shook his head vehemently, clearly in denial still.

“No but Scott -”

“I wasn’t finished. You’re the best thing that has happened to Lydia, I mean c’mon, she loves you more than she ever loved Jackson -”

Stiles scoffed. “Well yeah, that guy was an A-class douche.”

Scott laughed slightly, then spoke up before his childhood friend could interrupt him once more. “Look, my point is that there’s no one that Lydia would rather spend the rest of her life with. You balance each other out perfectly and she knows it, so if there’s anyone who’s going to marry Lydia Martin, it’s you, buddy.”

Stiles’ face was full of tension until hearing the last thing Scott said. His entire face lit up as realisation hit him, creating a smile so bright that nothing could dim it down in that moment.

“I’m going to marry Lydia Martin.”

The dynamic duo started to set everything in motion from then. Stiles asked Kira for extra help, knowing that she would be able to help in all things Lydia, in addition to keeping Scott and Stiles on track when necessary. Together, the three of them had managed to plan an amazing night.

On their 4-year anniversary, Stiles took Lydia to one of her favourite restaurants. Once there, she gave him a little surprise of her own. She presented him with 2 tickets to the next Mets game, and a voice note that said “It is you that I love, Stiles” in Yoda’s voice, courtesy of a silly app that she had found. He would have proposed to her there and then if it wasn’t for the fact that Kira would kill him if he didn’t go through with the original plan.

Dinner was followed by one of their famous night drives. Stiles wouldn’t let up on where he was taking her, much to Lydia’s annoyance, and they eventually ended up at the beach. They walked hand in hand along the seashore, talking about anything and everything like they always do. After a short while, Stiles led her to a part of the beach that she hadn’t seen on the drive up, nor when they were walking. It was hidden away behind a few shacks, but looked gorgeous nevertheless. A load of fairy lights were strung up overhead, illuminating the space around them perfectly. A piece of string was attached between two posts, with photos of the couple throughout the years hung up on it. Lydia gasped when she saw the setup, running to inspect the photos more closely.

“Stiles, this is really cute!” She kept her focus on the pictures of her and her boyfriend, admiring how happy they look in each one. She called his name again when she didn’t get a response the first time, and when he didn’t reply again, she turned around to see where he was.

Stiles was exactly where Lydia had left him, except now he was down on one knee, with a black velvet box in his outstretched hands. She gasped again in shock, tears welling up in her eyes as she walked over to him.

“Lydia Camille-Grace Martin, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. We’ve known each other since the 3rd grade, although you didn’t really notice me until sophomore year of high school. I’m really glad you did notice me though, because it’s what inevitably started this beautiful relationship between us, even if it did take a while. The last 4 years have been the best years of my life, and don’t tell Scott this, but you’re definitely my favourite person. You’re incredibly smart, and your beauty is too great to be described by ordinary words, along with your personality which never ceases to amaze me every single day. We’ve been through so much together, more than the ordinary couple have, and we’ve both been in our fair share of dangerous situations. Situations that make you appreciate who you love, and make you want to cherish them even more if you got the chance to be with those people again. Lydia, I want to show you how much I appreciate you for the rest of our lives. I want to dedicate every ounce of my time into showing you the love you deserve. You make me the happiest man alive just by being near me, and if you’ll let me, I want to make you feel just as happy as you make me. So, Lydia Camille-Grace Martin, will you marry me?”

Lydia didn’t know when the tears in her eyes had started to fall, but once they did, they didn’t stop, which brought Stiles to tears as well. Here she was, enjoying her life with the one person that never doubted her, that always supported her, and he’d just offered a chance of forever with him. She loved this man more than life itself, and before she even realised she was doing so, Lydia was saying “Yes” repeatedly. She couldn’t stop crying, but she was the happiest she had ever been in that moment, and it was all because of Stiles.

Stiles’ face mirrored the happiness that Lydia was feeling. He stood up, placing the gorgeous ring onto her ring finger, immediately kissing her straight after. A state of euphoria cascaded over the both of them, more than beyond excited to spend the rest of their lives together.

It was eventually Lydia who had broke away from the kiss first, looking down at the ring that accompanied her left hand. She didn’t take the time to look at it before, too caught up in Stiles’ words, and then in his arms. It was simple, yet still beautiful. A polished silver band wrapped around her finger, a magnificent diamond placed perfectly in the middle, with the initials ‘M.S’ and ‘L.M’ engraved on either side of it. She’d only seen it for a few seconds, but already it meant more to her than he’d ever know.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when her boyfriend, now fiancé, spoke to her softly.

“Do you like it?”

She simply smiled, even more than before if that was possible, and looked directly into his chocolate brown eyes.

“It’s beautiful Stiles, I love it. Thank you.”

He was more than relieved, happy that she liked his choice so much. He kissed her temple, in addition to pulling her closer into his arms, and sighed. “A beautiful ring for a beautiful woman. Happy anniversary, baby.”

She laid her head on his shoulder, embracing the bliss that she was feeling, until a thought crossed her mind. She pulled away from him slightly, giving him a light hit on the chest as she looked up at him. The hit had nowhere near enough force to actually hurt Stiles, but he still exaggerated when he said “Ow! What was that for?”

She knew he was joking, which is why her tone was only semi-serious, laughing halfway through. “This is why you didn’t tell me that we were going to the beach when I was asking in the car! You know how much I hate waiting for surprises!”

Stiles laughed with his entire body, practically shaking as he heard what Lydia just said. His head was thrown back, joy consuming him completely, and Lydia wanted to see him like this every day.

When he finally calmed down, Stiles looked playful with a little smirk on his face, and responded with “So I should have just told you when you asked? I’ll make sure to do just that next time.”

Before Lydia had the chance to respond, Stiles started walking off, further down the side of the beach. When she understood what he had just insinuated, she shouted “Wait! What do you mean next time?!” and ran after him. Her attempt to catch up to him was feeble; he heard her running and ran even faster, both of them laughing and being carefree together.

Stiles chuckled to himself as he thought of the memory, not caring how crazy he might look to other people. The sound and minimal movement from him was what woke Lydia up, seeming confused in her sleepy state.

“What are you laughing at, Stiles?”

He looked down at her, finding the mix of confusion and sleep on her extremely adorable. “Sorry, I was just thinking back to when I proposed. Do you remember how you reacted when you realised why I wanted to surprise you?”

She smiled at the memory, neither confusion nor sleep now evident on her face. “Yeah. Still thinking about proposing again?”

He couldn’t help but laugh again, a little quieter this time. “Nah. I think I’m happy with what I’ve got at the moment.” He followed his statement up with a wink, something that still gave Lydia butterflies to this day.

“Oh yeah? Anyone special?”

He took her hand in his, squeezing it slightly, never breaking eye contact as he spoke. “She’s definitely something. She’s like, ten-thousand percent out of my league, but today she and I got married. I guess miracles do happen, huh?”

Lydia had to put her head on Stiles’ shoulder in order to hide the blush that was taking over her face. “You’re such a cheeseball, Stiles.”

He took his hand out of hers, deciding to hug her instead, whispering into her ear. “Maybe, but you love me anyway so it doesn’t matter.”

The last year seemed to fly by for Stiles, Lydia, and the rest of the pack. Months of preparation and effort from everyone had led up to this day. To say both sides of the wedding party were excited was an understatement. Stiles had always experienced nervousness as a side effect of being excited though, and it had never been as bad a case as it was on the morning of his wedding day.

He was getting ready with his best friend and best man by his side, Scott McCall. The two had been friends since they were 4 years old, so it was only fitting that Scott was the only person capable of calming his best friend down besides the bride herself.

“Stiles, listen to me, okay? You and Lydia have been planning this for over a year. You’ve been together for 5 years, and I know for a fact that you’ve thought about this day even before that.” Scott paused, laughing at the thought of a younger Stiles, completely obsessed with everything that included Lydia Martin. “You’ve already got the girl, and after today you’ll have her with you for the rest of your life. You’re ready for this.”

Stiles appreciated Scott’s words, and even agreed to some extent, but he still felt uneasy. He looked from his hands, unsteady and shaking, up to his best friend. “I know, Scotty. The thing is, I’ve thought about this for so long that it has to be perfect. I can’t screw this up, for me or her.” He glanced down once more, his hands still moving on their own volition. “What if I mess something up, Scott? What if I have a panic attack in the middle of it? Or if-”

Scott sighed, being used to Stiles’ nervous ramblings by now. “You’re doing that thing again where you think too much and then become nervous about everything. It’s simple. You have no doubt in your mind that you want to marry Lydia, right?”

Stiles simply nodded, worried that if he spoke then he wouldn’t stop.

“And Lydia feels exactly the same way about being with you. When you’re out there in a few minutes, don’t think of everyone watching you. Don’t think about your dad, or the pack, or even me. Think about her. Focus on her when she walks down the aisle, and only her. That way, you won’t feel like you have to impress everyone else in the room, just her. You’re good at doing that Stiles, you always have been.”

So, Stiles did exactly that. When Lydia walked down the aisle with the Sheriff, she was the only thing that he saw. He was about to marry the woman that he’d loved since before he knew what love was, and suddenly he forgot why he was nervous in the first place. She was his world, and he was hers, so he didn’t need to worry.

He watched as she came closer to him, a tear falling from his eyes. She was the most beautiful thing that he had ever laid eyes on, and that wasn’t even the greatest thing about her. Lydia approached him, the Sheriff standing to the side as she reached his son. She wiped his eyes, her own showing evidence of tears also. They were wiped away by Stiles, the couple smiling adoringly at each other, before the ceremony began.

The event had happened without a single hitch, and before they knew it, Stiles and Lydia were officially married. After their first kiss as a married couple, Stiles turned to Scott, giving him a little fist bump that was only noticeable in close distance. Lydia didn’t miss it however, laughing at how some things never change. She wouldn’t have it any other way though, and gave Scott a warm smile to say thanks, knowing how crucial he was in getting both Stiles and Lydia in this position today.

The reception was an eventful one, to say the least. Filled with laughter and happiness, the entire pack was at peace for once in a very long time. Nearly everyone that mattered to the happy couple were surrounding them. Derek, Isaac, and Liam made up the groomsmen, with Kira, Malia and Hayden being the bridesmaids. Kira took on the double role of maid of honour also, making her just as important as Scott in the preparation for today, if not more so.

The only people who hadn’t attended either weren’t around anymore sadly, or they couldn’t make it. Lydia’s father had made a lame excuse about how he wouldn’t be able to cope if he had to be in a room with her mother, though he did try to back it up with how happy he was for his daughter. Stiles felt upset for her, and was more than mad that her father didn’t even consider going for Lydia’s sake. He watched her enjoying everyone’s company and leaned in to talk to her, quiet enough that people with human hearing couldn’t pick up on it.

“I’m sorry that your dad didn’t come today. I know that deep down you would have loved if he was the one walking you down the aisle instead of my dad.”

She held his hand under the table they were currently sitting by, speaking in the same quiet tone that Stiles had used. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re right, even though I resented my dad for making me choose between him and my mom when I was 16, a part of me still wanted him to be there for me on my wedding day. He chose not to come though, and maybe that’s for the best. You know I haven’t had the best relationship with him since he and mom divorced, and with the lack of contact, I feel like he doesn’t really know me that well anyway. I’m not the same person that I was back then, and he barely knows about the things I’ve gone through since he left. If he wasn’t there for me during my most vulnerable days, I don’t see the point in him wanting to celebrate the happiest day of my life with me. He’d also be a real pain for my mom, and I wouldn’t want her to deal with that, not on today of all days. She may tell me that she’ll be fine with him being here as long as I’m happy, but they weren’t happy when they were together, so seeing him again at her daughter’s wedding day would probably bring back some painful memories for her too. Besides, I’d rather have a father-in-law walk me down that actually cares for me than my biological dad who practically wants nothing to do with me. So, thank you for asking your dad to do that for me Stiles, it means a lot.”

This wasn’t the first time that Stiles was rendered speechless by Lydia, but it was the first time she made his mind go blank also. Usually when he’s impressed by her, a million thoughts race through his mind all at once, making it difficult to filter through them and articulate them properly. This time though, he really wasn’t expecting her to be so okay with the situation at hand. This is the one day that is supposed to be perfect for her, and she’s perfectly okay with not having her own father there with her? All Stiles knew was that he loved her so much, and that he was incredibly proud of how far Lydia had come along. 16-year-old Lydia wouldn’t stand for this, making sure that she would get the stereotypical ideal wedding even at the expense of others. The Lydia sitting right next to him though no longer cared about doing things for the sake of doing them, instead making decisions to make the people that she loves happy, which in turn made her feel happy.

Stiles still hadn’t figured out an appropriate response to his wife’s great monologue, so he did the next best thing. He kissed her as if his life depended on it, trying to convey how much he appreciated her through the action. When he pulled away, she seemed happy, but a little confused.

“What was that for?”

Stiles smiled, kissing her cheek this time. “I just… I love you so much, Lydia Stilinski.”

Lydia loved how her name sounded now, almost as much as Stiles did. “I love you too.”

From that point on, Stiles constantly referred to Lydia as Lydia Stilinski. It got a little tedious to some of the guests there, but Stiles didn’t care. He’s thought of marrying this girl since he was 8 years old. Now that it was official, Stiles wasn’t going to let anyone forget it.

Another thing Stiles kept doing at the reception was teasing his wife about the honeymoon coming up. Lydia had let Stiles plan it all, only regretting that decision soon after because of course he wasn’t telling her a single detail about it. Now that they were married, he was taunting her with the countdown to their flight and giving hints that were too vague to try and decrypt. As much as she hated surprises though, she loved Stiles and trusted that he would plan an amazing fortnight away.

It wasn’t until they got to the airport later that Stiles revealed his plans to whisk her away to Paris, a place she had always wanted to visit.

When it was time for the speeches, Stiles was dreading what would be said about him. Usually, he didn’t believe in regret; his policy was to put everything into his actions and move on, or to not carry them out at all. When the people closest to him had the power to exploit the stories around those actions however, on what is supposed to be the best day of his life, his policy didn’t really protect him. He was expecting the worst, so he was pleasantly surprised when his friends didn’t exceed his expectations.

To everyone’s surprise, Derek’s speech was the more light-hearted one of the two. To everyone who knew nothing about the supernatural, the speech just seemed like a bunch of anecdotes recalling Stiles’ funniest moments. The pack however knew that Derek was picking out certain parts of whole stories, for entertainment purposes. Neither Stiles or Lydia minded though, because it reminded them that even through the worst moments of their lives, they still made good memories along the way. So, when the sourwolf joked about Stiles still being a hyperactive spaz that is nowhere near ready for married life, Stiles was only moderately offended.

Scott’s speech took a much more emotional turn. Being the only person that grew up with both Stiles and Lydia, he knew everything that the couple had been through, both individually and together. Due to this fact, Scott must have felt like it was a duty of his to express to everyone about how he has seen his best friend crush on the girl sitting right next to him since they were in the 3rd grade. He explained how he couldn’t be prouder of the two people getting married today, and how glad he was to grow up with them at the same time. Even though she had no doubt about this, Scott promised Lydia that she will always be loved and looked after by his best friend. He then drew his speech to an end, half-jokingly stating that regardless of Stiles’ operative skills, Scott could still beat his ass if he managed to mess this up. By the time the true alpha was finished speaking, Lydia’s eyes were watering once more, along with Melissa, Natalie, and even a slight tear from the Sheriff.

Lydia watched the best man walk out of the venue, obviously wanting to take a breather. She told Stiles that she was going to speak to him, and then left to approach him. They stood side by side, in silence for a few minutes, until Lydia finally broke the peace. She turned to him, watching him take the view in.

“That was a really lovely speech, Scott. Thank you.”

He looked at one of his closest friends, appreciating everything that she had done for both Scott and Stiles over the years.

“It’s no problem… I meant it, you know, about being proud of you two. You’ve both come so far, and you’ve always had each other’s backs through it all, along with mine too. I honestly can’t see Stiles getting married to anyone but you, and I know he will be the best person for you as well.”

She turned back to where she was previously looking, staring at the lush gardens that surrounded the banquet hall. “You talk like you always knew we’d be together in the end.”

He shook his head slightly, smirking as he did so. “I wouldn’t say I knew, but I definitely hoped you would. Hearing Stiles talk about how much he loved you for as long as I can remember, it made me wish that you two would end up together eventually. When you started dating after the wild hunt, my first thought was ‘finally’, not just because Stiles could stop telling me that he loved you so much and start telling you instead, but also because it meant you would both start to receive the love I always knew you both deserved. If there’s one thing that I did know about you guys, it’s that I knew how right you were for each other. You know that saying that talks about soulmates being 2 sides of the same coin? That is exactly what you two are: soulmates. It seems even more fitting that you were his first love as well.”

Lydia thanked the heavens that she was wearing waterproof mascara, otherwise she would have scolded the man next to her for making her cry with his words. She knew exactly who he was thinking of when he said his last sentence, this being the exact topic she came out here to speak to him for. She reached for his hand, holding it comfortably in her own.

“You’re thinking of Allison, aren’t you?”

He nodded, confirming her suspicions. “She would be proud of you and Stiles too.” He smiled, thoughts of his first girlfriend flooding through his mind. “She would have loved to have been here.”

It was Lydia’s turn to think of her best friend. “Yeah, she always was a romantic girl. She’ll always be here though, in our hearts.”

Scott squeezed Lydia’s hand a little, knowing that she missed her best friend as much as he missed his first love. “Yeah, you’re right.” They shared a knowing glance, not having to communicate to know that they were always there for each other, to talk about Allison or anything else when needed.

The moment didn’t last long, Scott ushering Lydia inside, demanding that she get back to her husband and have their first dance together.

When Lydia did find Stiles again, he was standing next to his dad, in what seemed to be a very deep conversation. She didn’t want to bother them, but she did want to dance with Stiles, so she politely asked Noah if she could borrow his son for a few minutes, to which he accepted completely.

When the couple reached the dance floor, Start of Time by Gabrielle Aplin started to play. The pair swayed to the song slowly, Lydia’s arms around Stiles’ neck, his secured around her waist. In that moment, nothing else mattered to them but each other and the song. Lydia stared into Stiles’ beautiful eyes, getting lost in them like she had done so many times before.

“What were you and your dad talking about?”

He kissed her forehead, giving her a sheepish smile, almost shy even. “He was telling me about how proud he was of us, and how he knows my mom would be just as proud. What about you and Scott?”

She giggled, laughing at the similarity in their conversations. “Pretty much the same thing. He said how proud he was of us, that Allison would be proud, and she would have wanted to be here too.”

He smiled softly, enjoying her amusement in the comparison. “We did our favourite people proud, Lydia Stilinski.”

She could live in this bubble forever, only being accompanied by Stiles and gentle music. “We certainly did, Stiles Stilinski.”

Lydia had swapped seats with Stiles, wanting to get a closer look of the view as they flew over Europe. Stiles didn’t mind though, he was happy enough to just admire her instead. She turned to him, only to see him already looking at her. Both of their cheeks were hurting with how much they were smiling, but neither of them cared. Lydia turned to the window once more, leaning back into Stiles this time so that her back was against his chest. He rested his head atop hers, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

She looked up at him as best as she could. In a soft whisper, she asked “Can you believe we’re married? I still can’t.”

He looked down at her, falling in love with her all over again like he does every time he looks at her. “Me neither.”

She spoke so quietly that he almost missed it, despite being so close to her. “I love you, Mieczyslaw Stiles Stilinski.”

He pulled her closer into him, placing a kiss on her cheek. “I love you too, Lydia Camille-Grace Stilinski.”

They both looked towards the window once more, looking forward to what the next two weeks had in store for them, and every day after that too. They were at peace, knowing for sure that regardless of what life attempts to throw at them, they’ll get through it, together.

[darkarm66]

Breath of the Wild review

On the Wii U, I had The Wind Waker and Twilight Princess in their HD remastered forms....and barely touched. This is reoccurring issue with me and remasters, even with games I love. No matter how much I loved them the first time, there are some games I won't touch again and it was mainly due to the beginning stages. I dreaded going though Ordon Village again and knowing I'd have to put up with those tutorials again to get to the parts of Twilight Princess i did enjoy. So once Link wakes up Breath of the Wild, gets his clothes and Sheikah Slate and I got to run around with my meager abilities and items, I knew that this game was gonna be a classic. Yes, that's all it took. Now, there have been many many reviews that extolled the excellence of Breath of the Wild, much better written reviews when it came out, possibly on the verge of hyperbolic. So allow me to add to it. And yes, not only is this the best game of 2017, It very well could be one of the greatest of all time. While those reviews have mentioned Witcher 3, Skyrim, Arkham Asylum and other open world games as direct influences (Nintendo said as much as well), this game inspired feelings in me I haven't felt since Xenoblade Chronicles. And like Xenoblade Chronicles, Breath of the Wild succeeded due to not just the high amount of gameplay but also by eliminating a lot of wonky, reductive elements. 

There's no invisible barriers that prevents the player from going where they want to go, once you get off the Great Plateau after getting the runes in the Shrines, the player has everything the need to explore this amazing version of Hyrule. And the exploration was felt lacking in previous Zeldas. You knew that special icon or crack in the ground required the player to retrieve the item from a dungeon. Now, you just have to go there and a lot of it just jumps out at the player. This time around, Hyrule itself is a dungeon with so many puzzles that tempt to player to stop moving and just fiddle around for a bit. The world is littered with seemingly out of place shapes and it draws the player in a way that doesn't feel contrived or blatant. And even if a trail isn't apparent or there's no natural way to enter a place, the climbing mechanic breaks all of it. Climbing itself becomes its own minigame because its governed by a stamina wheel and the weather system, which does allow the player to be challenged by where they can climb but it doesn't allow the player to break the game by going everywhere. And speaking of challenge, get ready to eat humble pie with the simplest combat system but toughest enemies ever. 

This Hyrule wasn't afraid to hand the player its ass over and over. And the lack of tutorials and locked rooms that teach you to fight means you're not stuck in this one place until you get it right. If you die, you come back and try again or move onto somewhere else to do something that won't kill you. When I tried to put off the story as much as I possibly can, I ended up discovering Shrines (in a minute, not yet), Koroks, rupees, side quests, food. Until I became bored and started the Zora quest line, which delighted because I got to climb up a waterfall with ice blocks and led to the real menace of Hyrule: Lynels. This is when previous Zelda game would put you in this room and turn this into a boss battle to see if the player has gotten any good. Not this time, it didn't care that I didn't have enough hearts, or my shields were too weak, or my weapons were brittle. So I just turn around from the high point and glided to somewhere else instead. While players will have to fight to actually survive, Breath of the Wild let the experience teach the players.

And mainly, those Shrines is how you get experience points. The Shrines are dotted the map, some not even trying to hide, some taking maddening puzzle solving, others rewarding the player for figuring out all the clues. Not only is this how the game facilitates fast travel, it also scratches that dungeon crawling itch for a bit, but only by being a puzzle shrine or a combat shrine. It lacks the incredible intertwining of previous Zelda dungeons but the light content and brain stretching use of items makes up for it. Especially since the player is always rewarded with a great item. Unless its a weapon...

Okay, in the early goings, weapon durability can be a bummer. Weapons break too common and by the time you get used to one, its gone. That's not the worst part of it. The problem comes when good weapons do start becoming more readily available but not you're out of slots because you don't wanna waste your Royal Broadswords on some basic ass Bokoblins because you know a Lynel needs that work more. However, you deal with it because all the puzzle solving and wander lusting led to Korok seeds to expand the inventory, so now by the time you wanna start wrecking things, you're actually equipped to do so this time around.

I also believe that the durability allows the player to actually replay certain areas. While other games use powerful enemies as gates to keep the player away for a few hours, that doesn't feel like it this time around. The map allows players to actually keep tabs on where they may want to go but don't feel like dying to do so. Place that stamp down, go somewhere else and come back to it when the player truly feels ready. I remember Miyamoto talking about how they wanted Zelda games to be able to replay certain areas for a reason. And now they didn't have to force the player to do a bunch of fetch quests or pixel hunts to come back to an area they already beaten. This makes Hyrule feel more livelier this time around because no matter how much time you spent in one area, you can come back to it and discover something hiding under your nose this whole time but you couldn't see it just yet. Or it has a dope sword you really needed but didn't have room for.

But one thing to make room for: food! There was something so hypnotic about resource gathering and cooking, in a way that surpasses Final Fantasy XV's photo-realistic dishes. The abundance of materials, which not only kills the tedium that might have killed lesser games, allows players to actual feel free to consume and experiment with everything they've gathered. In the beginning, basic meals are cooked to give your health a chance withstand raiding an enemy camp. By the time you're in the 100 hour mark, players are hunting to create complex dishes that give them dope buffs to make a play session a more pleasant.

One pleasant thing this go around is the story. For all the flack Nintendo gets for its approach to stories, it only gets it because they're not telling it through the usual cinema envy of other games. This is a deconstruction of Link and being the chosen one. Link isn't just gonna be handed all the tools needed to succeed just because he was chosen. Same goes for Zelda, who seems heartbroken that she has to be the reincarnation of a goddess. And thanks to the Memories questline, you get to see those cutscenes but they aren't automatically triggered because you did a thing. You earn those previous moments beforehand that showed Link and Zelda not truly feeling going along with what destiny wants to do because it worked 100 years ago...which was probably Nintendo's feelings developing this game.

For years, Eiji Aonuma talked about breaking the conventions and in the gameplay and story, that feeling comes across well with Divine Beast Champions, especially who they just fall doing what they were told to do. This is truly about how Zelda's dev team felt about coming together to give the same results, only for it to fail before it even began and the task fell to new people to do what's necessary to defeat Ganon through new means. It's deeply personal and the emotion maturely understated. Link and Zelda develop as legit characters through their struggles and heartbreak and it gives the story an emotional richness not seen since Ocarina/Majora. Link (and the player) truly earns the right to be called a hero, not because he was chosen but because he endured and grew.

I haven't even mentioned how beautiful this game is. Forget your need for 6 billion polygons per sec to animate a face. The details astounding from up close and far away. Climb to the top of the mountain and you see a sprawling, diverse horizon to take your breath away or look down to see a forest or lake or camp to possibly sail down. None of it ever stops looking gorgeous. My favorite place in the game revolved around a Shrine that needed an Orb to unlock but the area you were in was completely dark. Seeing Link as a shadow, lighting torches to move around this area was utterly beautiful and proves that developers don't need to high end CGI cutscenes to make a visual impression that last forever. Speaking of lasting impressions, this is one of the best UI I've seen in a game. It conveys information and stats without completely cluttering the screen and taking away from the game world. Even when playing in handheld mode, you can stil take in a lot of visual treats of Hyrule.

And despite the impression that I'm ready to marry this game, this game isn't flawless. Weapon switch is a legit pain. Holding down one button to switch to a particular weapon isn't as intuitive as the other controls in the game. You're better off just pausing and switching items, which sorta breaks the immersion for the player. Also, as great as the Koroks and Korok puzzles are, did their have to be 900 of them. I'm all for trolling the player and subverting expectations for attempting 100% completion, but 900?!? That quickly veers between padding and repetitive. And the dragons can suck it. Only one item drop per appearance and god help you if you don’t want a scale. Again. Which leads to the upgrade system being underwhelming, due to its limited focus on armor and not weapons.

What makes me ignore these flaws: the game never forces you to do any thing mentioned before this (except the first four shrines and runes). You never have to find a Korok seed (but why the fuck wouldn't you?!?), you never have to expand your health and stamina, you don't need to cook a meal, get the Master Sword, ride a horse, shield surf, regulate your temperature, complete a shrine. The game is indifferent to your progress. But you will do any and all those things because Breath of the Wild is excellent at triggering your curiosity and intellect  and rewarding it, not rewarding your patience. Best of all, nearly everything you do fits into a mechanic the benefits the player, the quest aren't just a collection of repetitive checklists of escalating numbers nor is its badly tuned mechanics just thrown for the sake of variety. (Take that, open world games!)

This is not to say the previous Zeldas were awful. They didn't get tens and awards for nothing. You may even miss the linearity. They were great for what they are. Breath of the Wild is just better. Instead of telescoping design and handing you the fun stuff when you did the one thing it told you to do, it trusted the players this time around to make their own fun and build their own legend. Players will end up completing the same things but everyone will make their own path to completion. Breath of the Wild is worthy of the praise it has received and then some. It break ground by avoiding all the pot holes and wasted soil of previous Zeldas and open world games and brought  freshnesss that hasn't been felt in years. Truly a game that lives up to the word 'Legend'

[multi-muse-transect]

A Father’s Strife

AU: Set in the Bounty Hunter Mira timeline. A mysterious signal leads fireteam spectre to investigate. But when it turns out that it’s none other than the famous rebel fulcrum agent Kallus, the lines are on the line as he meets his son. Mira also belongs to @meldy-arts.

14 years ago.....

Draven Kallus or at least FN-999 stands among his stormtrooper battalion. This wasn’t his official codename though. He got it from a trooper who was planning to flee from the First Order and then swapped his armor with him before he left. No one doesn’t even know he’s here in the First Order which is fine by him. His father’s name was infamous among the Imperial ranks and they wouldn’t let him in if he enlisted officially. Now granted, his father fought against the empire and he truly looked up to him. But seeing what happened to the New Republic and how corrupt and deeply divided it was-He became disillusioned. His father wasn’t helping also as he was a senator who basically kept stoking the flames of the conflict. It reached to the point where he began to ignore his own son and in response, his own son ran away at the age of sixteen to join the First Order so he can bring true order and unity to the galaxy.

All that running away paid off though as he met FN-999 who was planning to run away in Jakku. He gladly took 999′s place and donned his armor thus ensuring his place in the First Order. Draven keeps his helmet on at all times to also make sure no one sees what’s underneath and to not let anyone that 999 ran away. His father taught him how to fight so he blended perfectly among them. Captain Phasma and some other girl, one that is younger than most troopers pass by them. It’s inspection day so all troopers must be accounted for. Following them is director Thrawn of Rescue and Intelligence bureau who is looking for any potential troopers to recruit on his datapad. It’s rare for troopers to enter the bureau, they only accept the best of the best and Draven doesn’t see himself as the best. Although he did rank up on the list in training, on number one spot. That what gets you respect from captain Phasma and the officers around here. Thrawn stops and turns to him.

“FN-999. Please step forward.” Thrawn ordered getting his attention. Draven wearily steps towards him curious at his order. The Chiss walks towards him and stops in front of the trooper. Draven looks into his eyes underneath his helmet....They widen up realizing why he did call him. The eyes of someone who is familiar with his combat style.

“Please report to my office this once. Captain Phasma and General Hux also.” He ordered as Phasma and Hux look at each other in curiosity before following them. Alongside Phasma and Hux, the blue haired little girl walks with them. Draven follows the three while holding his fear and internal panicking. He’s heard of Thrawn’s tactics and how he’s one step ahead of everyone. They arrive at the office of Thrawn as the door slides open.

“Wait here.” Phasma ordered the girl. She nods and sits on a chair next to the door. Draven, Hux, and Phasma enter Thrawn’s office. Resting on shelves are relics from the galactic civil war like old blasters, stormtrooper helmets, a destroyed lightsaber. That isn’t the only things in his office, there are murals from the old republic mounted and also a Mandalorian helmet. Among them are an ISB helmet also. 

“FN-999, you are ranked among the troopers of your battalion. Tell me-How do you fight so well?” Thrawn asks as Draven knows he’s feigning admiration. Draven grips his blaster in case he pulls something at him.

“Just the usual practice sir. Memorize every step captain Phasma has told us since basic training. I have good muscle memory after all.” Draven explained. 

“Strange....That is not the way captain Phasma trains hand to hand combat.” He pulls up a holographic video of standard troopers fighting in the way Phasma taught them. Aggressive and almost sloppy. Another video is pulled up showing him fighting with another trooper. It’s elegant and precise at the same time, just like how his father taught him.

“That is the fighting style....Of an ISB agent.” Thrawn spoke causing alarm in Draven while suspicion in Phasma and Hux. He bites his lip and breathes to calm himself down. Good thing the two can’t tell his emotions right now underneath his helmet.

“I....I watched old videos-”

“Remove your helmet.” Thrawn ordered. Draven carefully removes his helmet revealing his face. He looks more like a young version of his father minus the sideburns on his face. 

“Sir, who is this? That doesn’t look like FN-999.” Phasma asks him before Hux pulls out a blaster on Draven.

“A Resistance spy, that’s who it is!” Hux replied before Phasma takes aim at him. 

“Stand down you two. He isn’t a spy and he didn’t come here for information.....” Thrawn ordered again before Phasma and Hux lower there weapons. 

“Your father fought for the rebellion in the early years, he tried his best to foil me but he failed and got away after Pryce decided to throw him out of an airlock.” The Chiss said.

“If his father was a rebel spy then he is too. Thank you sir, but we have him-”

“Armitage, please treat our....Unofficial guest and recruit with respect. As he came to use to garner that said respect from us.” Thrawn advised. 

“Respect? Do we even know his family?” Phasma asks.

“Allow me to introduce: Draven Kallus, the son of agent Kallus.” Thrawn introduced Draven who hangs his eyes in fear and sadness fearing what Thrawn will do to him. Hux’s eyes widen before he squints at him in anger knowing who agent Kallus was. 

“What is the meaning of this?! And what did you mean by unofficial recruit!? He is the son of a rebel spy!” Hux growled. 

“According to missing person reports and the local holo-net news, Draven ran away from home because of his dispute with his father who is aligned with the senate of the New Republic in the political war that took place within the senate. Isn’t that right Draven?” Thrawn asked before Draven motions his eyes to look away from then back. 

“He was a foolish old man who got caught up in politics rather than the safety of the galaxy. I came here to serve and protect it.” Draven explained. 

“Unlike your father, you have unwavering loyalty to the First Order and the Imperial cause. I called you in here for another reason but I have doubts about it.” Thrawn replied.

“Sir, I hold myself responsible for libel. If it’s a year or day in the stockade-”

“You have been recruited for Rescue and Intelligence.” He interrupted catching him off guard. 

“E-Excuse me?”

“You have been recruited. Chosen.” Thrawn simply explained.

“B-But....I lied to get into the First Order, certainty I deserve some form of punishment for this.” Draven argued. 

“No but of course my trust in you is in question. You have skills Draven and through these skills, you have been chosen. Any questions?” Thrawn asks. Draven pauses for a moment knowing that Rescue and Intelligence missions are almost on suicide levels of dangerous....But he always wanted to do good for the galaxy.

“No sir.” Draven replied.

“Do no disappoint me like your father did, Draven.” The Chiss advised. 

Draven wakes up on the bench of the ship. He’s wearing his typical clone commando armor that is reformatted with First Order tech from the research and development team. His team was sent to rescue a stranded ship out here after command has received a distress signal from it. Mira is aiming the scope of her rifle to see if there is anything wrong with it, Zuke spins his blastmill to check if it can fire properly while Blackjack is testing the spinning mechanism of her lightsaber. 

“Lena, are we there yet?” Draven asks while picking up his E11D rifle leaning on his seat and turning off the safety of the weapon. The pilot turns to him while removing her helmet. 

“Almost there to the ship. We’re not getting any transmissions at the moment which I assume that either the occupants are dead or....”

“It was jammed.” He adds.

“My thoughts exactly.” Lena agreed before the ship jumps out of hyper-space revealing the still ruined ship. A civilian freighter of some kind. Mira observes the ship sensing a familiarity with it.....

“That’s a Tantive class ship. It belongs to Corusant. I wonder what it’s doing out here.....” Mira observed before another wrecked ship passes by them but this time a pirate ship. 

“A pirate attack and the explosion marks are fresh. This was recent.....Very recent.” Blackjack added. 

“Then that means a survivor must have fired a shot to destroy it. Let’s move in.” Draven ordered. 

“Tantive this is First Order Rescue and Intelligence, if you can hear me then you are being boarded. Medical assistance will be administered.” Lena said on the coms. The ship goes into the docking bay of the Tantive as the side hatch opens revealing the team in there specific armors. Mira leads them first since she is there tracker and scout. Draven looks around his surroundings....There’s dead crewmen scattered all over the place, indicating signs of a struggle.

“A fight took place here....” Zuke looks at the blast marks and the scattered guns. Most of the bodies were hit in the chest and head indicating a slightly professional attack which was quick and clean although merciless. 

“Attackers could still be around.” Mira commented before stacking up against a door. She notices the door pad is still unlocked through the green light indicating its availability. Mira presses the button to reveal a dead gungan in pirate clothing. 

“Well that rules out about the attacks still being alive.” Blackjack sassed. Draven signals the team to enter the halls revealing numerous dead pirates and crewmen on the ship. They all lower there weapons knowing that they won’t be fighting at all. Draven looks at the doors knowing this is the cabin room.

“Scout for any survivors.” Draven ordered. They all nod and enter each room. Blackjack is the first and only sees a dead body alongside another dead pirate. Zuke is the second but sees no one. Mira is last....She notices a seemingly dead man who is wearing a brown jacket and blue jeans. He has the same hair color as Draven except faded. Mira walks towards him while checking his pulse. The man gasps in shock and terror before pulling out a blaster on her.

“Sir, we’re here to help!” Mira advised before helping the man up as he picks up his blaster. Draven turns to the noise then walks towards it with Blackjack and Zuke following him.

“Rescue and Intelligence, identify yourself! You contacted us when your ship was attacked.....”

“Son?” The man gasps. He lets go of Mira while struggling to keep balance but stands straight regardless. 

“Sir, you don’t look so good. We’ll give you some medical attention-”

“.....Dad?” Draven gasped causing Mira to freeze before she can say anything alongside Zuke and Blackjack. This is former agent Kallus.....A traitor to the empire.

The ride on the drop ship is silent and long as the team surrounds Kallus Sr who is giving the same treatment. It’s been a long time since Draven saw his father and the last time they met wasn’t in good terms at all also. Mira knew about him also, how he costed them the total annihilation of the Lothal rebels and also the fact he is one of the. Blackjack also too remembering what her mother said about him also, she is hesitant to ask what was her mother-Seventh Sister-like. 

“So why are you here? What did the pirates want?” Draven asks his father sternly with suspicion in the mix. Kallus Sr look at Draven remembering the boy he raised after his mother died wondering what to say. He always thought his son killed himself after years of loneliness while he was at the senate, school wasn’t any better either too since he was bullied due to the fact he was once part of the empire. 

“I was just taking a vacation around here. Wanted to see Hosnian system.” Kallus Sr replied causing Blackjack to roll her eyes while Mira and Zuke look at each other in disbelief then back at Kallus Sr.

“Then explain the armed crewmen. Something must have happened to cause the pirates to attack.” Mira asked.

“Pirates are pirates. What do you expect? They must have thought something was in value in the ship which was possibly me since I am, after all, a senator. Think about it for a moment.” Kallus Sr explained. 

“Oh I don’t think so, my mother-”Draven interrupts Blackjack by raising his arm causing her to stand down. 

“Leave us be. I have him.” The Mirialan sighs before signaling her squadmates to come with her giving distance to Draven and Kallus Sr. Draven sits in front of his father who is looking straight at him. 

“I thought you were dead.” Kallus Sr spoke.

“I wish I was as well but the First Order gave me a purpose. Something worth fighting for. Made life worth living again for safety and peace in the galaxy.” Draven replied.

“You’re mixing peace with oppression. I had that same belief as well.” The older man countered.

“As you can see, you would have died if it wasn’t for the First Order.” Draven assured.

“Just because you are working for the only good part of the First Order doesn’t mean the First Order is good entirely.” Kallus Sr argued.

“You and the rest of those populist scumbags fought for weaknesses and a galaxy that is now riddled with disorder.” Draven defended his point.

“And you are fighting to take away everyone’s freedoms. The First Order arose from the dark side, you did not. You know me also....I fought the empire and if you think the First Order is different then you are surely wrong.” Kallus Sr said.

“You were weak and couldn’t do what was necessary for peace and order for the galaxy so you joined the rebels.” Draven insulted. Kallus Sr could see himself within his son....How he believed what he was doing is good. It’ll changed when Zeb saved him. 

“I was in your place once. Believed in everything the empire told me so I what I did was necessary for everyone....I believed in peace.” He spoke softly.

“And what made you leave the empire?” His son asks.

“I had enough....A Lasat showed me the error of my ways. What it was like in there perspective....I killed innocent people Draven. Things I wasn’t proud of and still amending those mistakes....” Kallus Sr explained remembering what he did in Lasan. Silence befalls on both of them.

“....And I see you going down the same path I went.” He broke the silence. 

“And why should I join whatever it is you’re part of?” Draven asks with sympathy in voice.

“Because son....It is the right thing to do. You don’t belong to the First Order. If you continue to serve then it’ll be too late to realize what you are doing.” Kallus Sr pleaded. Draven has a look of doubt in his face.....

“.....I’m sorry father. I think I’ll do more good here than I can in the Resistance.” Draven apologized causing Kallus Sr’s eyes to widen then understanding before he sighs. 

“I understand. But no matter what, you’ll always be my son and you can join anytime you want.” Kallus Sr nods. Draven smiles sadly knowing he can’t just kill his fellow agents who are his brothers and sisters....

“Thanks dad.” 

The ship lands into a neutral space port where Lena contact a couple of New Republic cruisers about the missing senator. It lands on the docking pad with the hatch opening as New Republic soldiers walk towards it. Kallus Sr, Draven, Blackjack, Zuke, and Mira walk out escorting him.

“Thank you. We’ve been looking for senator Kallus for quite sometime.” The soldier thanked.

“You’re welcome. The First Order sends there regards.” Draven replied before Kallus Sr walks away with them. Little does he know, he left something for Draven in the ship. Inside the ship is a communicator on a bench with a symbol. It’s the fulcrum symbol.

[klklovesmovies]

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child: My Experience

Once, I knew my mom and I were officially going to go to London, the first thing I did was go onto the “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child” Official website to see if any tickets would be available during our trip.  Of course, I was not surprised that there were no tickets available. Each month leading up to our trip, I would constantly check and ultimately came to the conclusion that I was not going to be able to get tickets. Getting tickets to see “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child” in London is like getting tickets to see “Hamilton” in NYC.  I accepted that fact and moved on.

However, I did want to see a play or musical while in London.  When my mom and I arrived at the Royal Garden Hotel, Tuesday Jan 3rd our plans were up in the air for the next four days. We took Tuesday evening to plan out the next four days.

I remember Tuesday night, sitting on my hotel bed cross legged looking at the brochures to figure out what musical to see and nothing stood out. For whatever reason, I thought, why not check “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child” to see if there would be any tickets for the next couple of days on my IPad.  Shocked, there were tickets available.  I kept on refreshing the page to make sure I was reading the website correctly.  Internally, I was freaking out like a fangirl. The next thing I knew, I bought the tickets for back to back shows on Wednesday. I had tickets and now my mom was figuring out how I was going to get back to our hotel after the show.

Getting to the 2PM Part One show is a story in itself. In the morning, my mom and went to the Modern Tate Museum and spent the morning at the museum and planned on leaving for the show after we had lunch at the Tate. We left the Modern Tate at 1:15PM and I had this strange and unnerving feeling that I was not going to have enough time.

If you have ever seen someone rushing to catch the train or running in an airport to catch their flight, that person was me on the streets of London, Wednesday January 4th. Of course, we took the underground and had to get off one line and jump on another. I literally sprinted up the stairs and jogged as fast as I could.

Once, we got off the train I moved as fast as I could out of the Underground. I ignored everyone around me, while trying to be polite. I was frantic once I reached the street (another flight of stairs to climb) and had no idea where the theater was. Two kind gentlemen asked, “What are you looking for?”  Out of breathe, my mom and I shocked, “The Palace Theater.” They pointed to the left and I quickly said, “Thank you” and took off running, leaving my mother behind. Sorry Mom, I had five minutes till 2:00 and I still needed to go and pick up my tickets at the box office.

I ran down the street (yes, I ran!) and saw that glorious and large sign, ““Harry Potter and the Cursed Child” I almost cried. I still had to cross the street, go to the box office, get my tickets, and go through security. I was a hot mess but I determined and could NOT miss any part of this show. Everyone was really patience and kind with me and once I was literally in my seat sweating, I started taking off my coat and scarf. Two minutes later, the show started as music started playing and the cast slowly appeared on the stage, I cried.

I was overwhelmed with way too many emotions and honestly thought, I was going to miss the first part. There I was sitting on the second level right in the middle and had a perfect view of the stage. As the cast came out on the stage, I smiled realizing I was seeing the original cast too. I finally started to relax, wiped my tears of joy away and enjoyed the play.

I won’t spoil the plot for anyone who has not seen the play or read the book. However, the basic plot takes nineteen years after the battle at Hogwarts and Harry, Ron, Hermione are sending their kids to Hogwarts. The play focus on the relationship Harry has with his youngest son, Albus and his relationship with his only friend, Scorpius Malfoy.

After experiencing the play, it made sense to me that “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child” was always intended to be a stage play; not a book. Sure, I bet Warner Brothers would love to take the play and turn it into a trilogy. Sure, it might happen if J.K. Rowling gives the green light. However, that will not happen for a while. My educational guess would have to be at least ten years because Dan, Rupert, Emma, and Tom need to be in their late thirties to play older version of their characters.

However, people need to experience this story the way it was intended, as a stage play. The sets, magic and illusions were creative and entertaining.  The music was composed by Imogen Heap; I learned this after Part One since I had no time before hand to read my program. Plus, some of the music during Part One sounded really familiar. Imogen Heap’s music was perfect, creating the mood for each scene. Without a doubt, the most eerie, impressive, and special effect in the play were the dementors.

Here’s a little spoil, you’re warned.

The end of Part 1 has Dementors flying around the stage and audience. It was creepy and awesome at the same time because the dementors honestly looked they like came right out of the movies. It was the scene that made me realize, everyone needs to experience this!

Now, let’s talk about the cast and characters. The standout is clearly, Anthony Boyle who plays Scorpius Malfoy.  Scorpius evolves the most in the story and Anthony does a great job playing Scorpius as an awkward and misunderstood outsider. I love the friendship that Scorpius and Albus have and it’s great to see older versions of Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. Paul Thornley (Ron) was hilarious, as there were at least two scenes that were laugh out loud moments.  

Alex Price as Draco was great too, as I loved the scenes with him and Harry and his son Scorpius. There is one scene, that I keep remember that instantly makes me smile and laugh every time I think about Draco & Scorpius.  Throughout the series, Draco was always a favorite character of mind. Draco is that character, you love to hate and I always hoped that there would be a redeeming quality to Draco. Well, J.K. Rowling gave us “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child” and Draco gave us his son, Scorpius, who might be one of my new favorite characters! Anthony (Scorpius) and Alex (Draco) were fantastic and believable together on stage.

I loved that there is and always will be a rivalry between Draco and Harry. Alex and Jamie were able to capture the detestation Tom Felton and Daniel Radcliffe created between Draco and Harry. However, at the same time, Alex and Jamie convey maturity and understanding since Draco and Harry are now fathers.

Sam Clemmett (Albus) and Jamie Parker (Harry) were fantastic. Jamie did an impressive job playing Harry, as a father still struggling with his inner demons and how to be a good father. There are a few heartbreaking scenes that Jamie nailed. Without spoiling the plot, there is one scene with the main cast that was gut wrecking and heartbreaking. I could feel everyone around me was beyond dead silent and could feel the pain the characters were experiencing. That’s what I loved about theater. The actors, the costumes, props and illusions brought to life the amazing world J.K. Rowling created.  

The only criticism I have is with the plot. There are some parts that felt were written by a fan-fiction writer but, I can overlook that since the stage production was entertaining, creative, and unlike anything I have seen before. As a Harry Potter fan, I felt like I won the lottery! I can’t wait to re-read the script and visualize the play in my head. They need to record the play one day, so I can buy it and re-watch it!

[unhingedwordvomit]

On the first of many #metoo moments

For the better part of my life, I have been in love with someone who was manipulative and abusive. We started dating when I was 15 and he was 18, after months of me begging and pleading with my parents to let me date him (spoiler alert, they were right, and I shouldn’t have been allowed within 100 feet of this fuck). He was controlling and unhinged from pretty much the get go. He would lose his mind if I wore thongs, tight skirts, or pants with no back pockets (leggings weren’t quite a thing yet). He was extremely insecure and any guy friends I had were basically enemies of the state. If I ever dared to speak to another person with a penis, I was basically cheating on him and he would call me a fat whore and dump me. A few hours later, he would call me begging for forgiveness. I would conservatively estimate this process went on every couple of weeks. And because I was very young and very naïve, I tolerated all of it.

He told me he loved me after we had been dating for two months. I was definitely in love with him, but since it was my first foray into the love business, I didn’t say it until a few months later. The lows were frequent and very low, but the highs were also very high. One day I was a fat (115lb) whore (virgin). The next I was the love of his life. He went out of his way to make up for his shitty behavior by taking me to nice dinners and making me baked goods. I thought this was how love worked.

As I mentioned, I was 15 when we started dating. The pressure to have sex with him crept up, but I wasn’t ready. I told him this. We did everything but have sex for the first year we dated. I did whatever else he wanted, because I needed to distract him from actual, vaginal sex. I knew I was too young for sex. I knew it wasn’t the right time. I found every excuse in the book to not let this man take my virginity. But after a year, the tensions surrounding not having sex were at an all-time high. He was horny and pissed, and I was desperately grasping at reasons to not have sex. The spring after I turned 16, I went on a band trip to NYC. This was another typical ordeal with him, since I would be far away and hanging out with dudes, which was, of course, unacceptable. The whole trip was me trying to manage his emotions and keep the breakup cycle at bay. I texted him constantly and bought him a present. But it wasn’t enough, and during the long drive back home, he dumped me again. He said I didn’t really love him if I wouldn’t have sex with him (* I will return to this later). I was crushed. I was broken. I loved him so much. I didn’t want him to leave me. I didn’t want to have sex.

The day after I got back, I went over to his parents’ house (he still lived with them while in college) and we had sex. At the time, I thought it was sweet and romantic. He was very gentle and loving. In hindsight, I want to vomit. It took me well over 10 years to realize that coercion is rape. For good measure, I’ll insert the legal definition of rape in TN here. Because, as a woman, I have to constantly prove that what I’m saying is true. This is from www.rainn.org.

Let’s return to the asterisk. I endured a year of manipulation and coercion. He would say anything and everything to degrade me, to belittle me, and to make me feel guilty. He would say anything to make me feel obligated to give him sex. I resisted and resisted until he had finally worn me down. This is rape culture. When are men going to realize that no means no, not convince me? Consent is never ambiguous. Pressure is not consent. Discomfort is not consent. Why do men want to have sex with women they have to beg, belittle, and dehumanize?

He (like most men) will never admit that what happened was not consensual. Even though the legal definition of rape includes coercion, he will find a way to reconcile it in his brain to not rape. I’ve actually never confronted him about this. And since I don’t plan on talking to him ever again, I don’t think I will.

One time we broke up for a 3-4 month stint, which was our longest at that point. I started dating someone else. A very kind man. Someone who treated me like a human being. My ex had taken to stalking and harassing me and my new man, probably because he couldn’t handle the fact that he dumped me and I might’ve dated someone else. He would follow me home from work back to my dorm. He hacked into my voicemail and email and changed all my passwords. He threatened to post nude pictures and videos of me online weekly (turns out he couldn’t actually do this because I was a minor in the photos). He incessantly called me and my new man from a restricted number. All hours of the night. He and a cunt (who once pretended to be my friend) drew penises and wrote derogatory things on my car, then covered the entire thing in saran wrap. One of my most vivid memories is driving it to a car wash while sobbing. Eventually I went to the university and had some sort of no-contact order put on him. This finally stopped him. Unfortunately, I was still in love with him. Ugh. UGH. I’m still so disgusted with myself. I dumped my new great boyfriend and went back to him a couple of months after the no contact order. I don’t know if I will ever live this shame down.

We continued our toxic relationship until I was 18. We broke up 5 months after my brother died. Actually, we had just gotten back together right before my brother died. We had been fighting the night he died. If I had taken another route home from his apartment to my house, I would’ve passed the wreck. But for all the abuse I endured during our relationship, he saved me after my brother died. I couldn't have gotten through it without him.

The night my brother died, he was working late at Walgreens, because of extended holiday hours. I had just gotten home and had resumed fighting with my boyfriend via AIM. It was around 1 am. The phone rang. WTF? My mom answered (I found out later they hung up because she thought it was a prank call). The phone rang again. Then my mom was running down the hall shouting my brother’s name. I will never forget the panic and terror in her voice. My parents said the cops had called and they were going to UT Medical Center. I didn’t go because I was pissed. So. Pissed. He had finally got his act together! Because my mom said cops, I thought he had gotten back into trouble. I was sure he and my parents were about to be embroiled in whatever legal ramifications his choices had brought on. So I declined to go. I mentioned this to my boyfriend, as our text fight had been interrupted. Later, a cop showed up at my house. He asked if my parents had been notified of what happened. I said yes. He said that he was still breathing on his own when they left the scene. I was very confused and asked him what happened. He said he couldn't tell me (what??? You can tell me he was breathing, but not anything else???). Then he left and I was mostly very confused, but my brain still hadn’t put it together that something really bad had happened. I told my boyfriend about the cop. A few minutes later, he called and said he was coming to get me to take me to the hospital. I found out later that my mom had called him and told him to bring me after they found out that shit was bad. Even as we were driving to the hospital, I was clueless. I was mostly pondering, “What could he have done this time?” My boyfriend dropped me at the entrance and I went in by myself, because he wasn’t a dumbass and had put together that shit was bad. After I got there, the doctor told us he was going to die, and I had a hysterical breakdown. My boyfriend came into the waiting room and from there, basically carried me emotionally and physically through life for the next few months. I couldn’t function, and he functioned for me. Despite our terrible and toxic relationship, I will always be grateful for this. He transformed into a completely different person for a few months. He stopped being abusive. He was loving and supportive. He was my lifeline. I clung to this version of him for many years after. In all honesty, I still cling to it a bit. When something traumatic happens, it binds you to the people who are there living it with you. I think this is one of the main drivers of why I would go back to him for years after we broke up. It’s strange how one person can break you and save you.

I vividly remember the day we broke up for good. It was a day around his birthday. Since I was 18 and couldn’t go to bars, I was not invited to the birthday celebration (no possibility of having, you know, a party). Instead, I planned on cooking him a romantic dinner. I got up early that morning to straighten my hair the way he liked it. I had bought a new dress I knew he would like. I went grocery shopping and showed up at his apartment just as he was rolling out of bed. I made him muffins for breakfast. He opened my gift of some very nice wine glasses, a great gift for an alcoholic (did I mention he’s an alcoholic?). He left to go run errands, and I spent the next few hours making ribs. At some point during the day, a former coworker and friend (male) texted me to see how I was doing. My shitty boyfriend demanded to know who I was texting and, as usual, had a jealousy tantrum. He was in an immediate and incurable sour mood. We ate dinner in silence. I cut him a piece of cake in silence. I cleaned up the mess in silence. After cake I stuck around because I was sure he would want a birthday blowjob. My devotion to this fuck was BOUNDLESS. Instead, he said to me, “You can go now.” I walked out of that apartment knowing that this was THE END. I later broke up with him, a departure from his usual routine of breaking up with me. He begged me not to. And I somehow summoned up the fortitude to not go back.

For a while, anyway. We’ve actually never gotten back together since. We’ve had “things” every few years. I am filled with shame writing this, but I tried to get back with him several times over the past 10 years. He (not shockingly) would never commit to me in any tangible way, but definitely had no problem fucking me. After getting raped by another guy I had dated on and off, I reached out to him. And he was incredibly supportive. He was actually the first person I kissed after months of crippling PTSD. I actually cried while kissing him, and he was extremely kind about it. I’ll never figure him out.

Almost a year ago I was getting ready to break free from the shitty life I was living in Texas. We had rekindled our “thing” for a couple of months. In fact, he was going to help me move across the country. Then he blows me off, four days before the move. I didn’t have time to find anyone else to help me. I was DEVASTATED, but I was also too overwhelmed with panic and stress to really think about him and my devastation. Once I arrived in NC, I began to process the ordeal and realized I didn’t love him anymore. I don’t know why I needed to endure so much abuse, pain, and disappointment to get here. I’m afraid as time goes on, the negative memories will dull again and the feelings will creep back in. Yet another reason why I need to write this down. I wish I could get a lobotomy to selectively remove this part of my brain. Actually, I would like to forget him altogether. I wish I could never think about him again. I would gladly forget the only genuine love I’ve ever felt, because then I could permanently move on from this fucking ordeal. It is not better to have loved and lost when that person is abusive, selfish, generally shitty, and will never ever ever EVER reciprocate your feelings.

For many years of my life, I have hated him while simultaneously being in love with him. At this point, I don’t hate him anymore, for any of it. I’m still incredibly hurt by it all. I don’t believe in karma, but he’s already been dealt a lifetime of misery. He has certainly not been left unpunished. Revenge is never satisfying, anyway.

I’m sad to say that I’ve never loved anyone else, although I have wanted to. I’ve even told other people that I loved them, probably out of sheer desperation to love someone else. When I look at pictures of him now, it still feels like a punch in the gut. But I don’t feel any love anymore. At least not for now.

Me in 2008, hours before I would finally end an abusive relationship.