#years of missing each other and untold stories and desire

[maudlintrash]

staring at bono's hesitant hand and thinking really hard about the regency au where lewis is a soldier newly made a knight and bono is his valet

[tenthgrove]

hello~!! I’m back again and I was wondering if you have any lore on pesci or if not him in a singular sense what kind a lore do you have for him and pros? Please and thank you 🥰 I hope you’re doing ok

Hiya! The first thing to know about my backstory for Pesci and Prosciutto is that their brother status is biological, and both play a central role in each other's fates. Because of this, I will be telling their stories together:

Prosciutto was born the sole heir of the formidable Crepuscolo Crime Family, already in its third generation at the time of his father, Don Giuseppe Crepuscolo himself. Prosciutto's mother was named Jennifer Sumner, an aristocrat from England. At the time of Prosciutto's birth, in 1964, the marriage had long since disintegrated, but rather than going through the mess of a divorce they chose to keep themselves to themselves, using their respective wealth to live their own lives while retaining the image of a strong marriage to outsiders.

Prosciutto was AFAB, his name at birth being Maiale. The Don originally wanted to keep him out of the family business due to his beliefs about the role of women, but after a few years when it became clear Jennifer could not be convinced to have any more children, he relented to giving his sole heir a more androgynous upbringing. Prosciutto was a well behaved child, accepting of his lot in life and cordial to his parents despite the lack of warmth, particularly from his father's side. With age, he began to question his father's actions with more scrutiny, but wisely kept this to himself. What affected him most was the complete change in personality his mother underwent during their long summer trips together to Jennifer's family in England. It made Prosciutto realised just what life as a Crepuscolo had done to her as a person.

Regrettably, tragedy would strike when Prosciutto was 12 years old, as Jennifer was diagnosed with Leukemia. Her battle with the disease was long and painful, but it soon became clear her days were numbered. 3 years later, it was clear the end would be coming soon.

Amid all this, Prosciutto was going through a different personal crisis. He was beginning to question his gender. With his father no longer able to control his intake of information entirely Prosciutto had become aware of what it meant to be transgender and knew he supported the movement, but was feeling increasingly uncomfortable with his feminine body and was starting to think of himself as a boy. After a long period of consideration, he finally came out to his mother at age 15, when it was clear there'd be no further chances. This confession was entirely private, given that Prosciutto's father was not present, having gone on holiday with his mistress, a family maid.

Much to Prosciutto's relief, Jennifer was accepting, and the pair enjoyed a blissful few more days together before Jennifer passed away peacefully. Among her final words to her son were the affirmation that he had her full blessing to break from his father when the time came. She knew he wouldn't give himself permission otherwise.

Within the year, Don Crepuscolo had married a new wife, the maid Loreta. She was a very young woman, not a decade older than Prosciutto and very naive. Despite the situation, Prosciutto got on very well with her and soon confessed to the situation with his gender. She was also very supporting and agreed to help hide it from the don. Just 5 months after the wedding, Loreta gave birth to a baby boy, Pesci, at which point the Don's interest in her quickly faded. Pesci was a difficult baby, and unlike Jennifer, Loreta could not simply take the baby off somewhere when it started to annoy him. Crepuscolo began to resent his wife and baby, and before Pesci's first birthday, they were both out on the streets.

Prosciutto was absolutely outraged. Already considering no-contact he swore to break his father off at the earliest possible opportunity, and began slipping his allowance to Loreta so that she and Pesci could get by. Finally, at age 19, Prosciutto graduated high-school, fulfilling the terms of Jennifer's will that would allow him to inherit her millions. He cut his father off the very day he took it.

He went onto to study politics at university, with the intention of becoming a political theorist, and continued to support Loreta wherever possible. He visited Scandinavia for his reassignment surgeries, and by the end of university had largely achieved the body he desired. He changed his first name to Prosciutto and took on his mother's last name, severing himself from his father entirely.

By age 24, Prosciutto was doing very well for himself in a journalist position, and had plans to buy a new house for himself, Pesci and Loreta. Unknown to the three of them, the Crepuscolo empire was collapsing. It was being replaced by Passione. Giuseppe Crepuscolo would meet his end at the barrel of a gun, courtesy of a sudden grab for power by his Passione rivals. To cover all their bases, they decided to go after his heir next, abducting Prosciutto and burning his house to the ground. He was informed that to save his life (as well as Pesci's) he would be forced to work for Passione. That would be the only way they could keep an eye on him.

Seeing nothing else to do with himself, Prosciutto put his work into Passione. Bit by bit, he earned their trust and was granted a stand after a couple of years. Unfortunately, there was more bad news- Loreta had been diagnosed with cancer, Leukaemia of all things, and Prosciutto found himself badly torn between two commitments. His progression of status started to slow.

But then, the order came through to form an assassination team, and the responsibility was given to Prosciutto. Not wanting to be captain since it would make it harder to care for Pesci, he attempted to pass the responsibility onto his old allies Sorbet and Gelato, but the higher ups refused this. He did, however, manage to secure them on the team. Instead, Prosciutto turned to a newer ally of his, a relative nobody to the gang named Risotto Nero. Though he was young and had few confirmed kills, Prosciutto saw great potential in him and put him through to be given a stand. When this resulted in Metallica's creation, the Don was quick to accept the proposal of him as captain.

Loreta, meanwhile, was having a very tough time. Over the enduring years she faced a number of near-recoveries and relapses. Each time she became sick she was forced to give Pesci to Prosciutto, which is how the boy ended up being a regular acquaintance of La Squadra long before he joined.

By the time Loreta was on her death bed, Pesci was 15 and La Squadra had gained every member except him. Both brothers were at her side whenever they could be, and while Prosciutto prepared him for the worst, strange things started happening around Pesci. Whenever he fell asleep next to her bed, he noticed the strange feeling of her heartbeat in his hands. One time, he swore he even saw a string extending out from his finger towards her torso. Putting it down to sleep deprivation, he ignored it, that is until Loreta finally died.

Prosciutto, through poor luck, missed the moment by mere minutes, leaving Pesci alone to face the initial grief. In sheer anguish, his stand Beach Boy came to fully manifest, tearing out Loreta's heart on accident as he desperately tried to find a beat. Prosciutto arrived on the scene and knew immediately what had happened, but was unable to console Pesci until he fled. Fearing what untold chaos his stand might do without guidance, Prosciutto recruited La Squadra to get him back.

After days on the run Pesci finally reunited with his brother, who explained what Beach Boy was and what Prosciutto had been doing all these years. From the crowd, Risotto stepped forth and offered Pesci a place in the team. For his own good. From there, they could teach him how to control his stand. Most importantly, he would be with family.

[thexfridax]

© Claire Mathon

Translated interview with Director Sciamma

‘We started a culture war‘

Andreas Busche and Nadine Lange, in: Der Tagesspiegel, 29th of October 2019

Additions or clarifications for translating purposes are denoted as [T: …]

Manifest on the female gaze: Céline Sciamma speaks about her period film ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’, MeToo in France and queer visibility.

In France, Céline Sciamma, born in 1978, is already revered as the new feminist and notably queer voice of French cinema, in the tradition of Claire Denis and Catherine Breillat. The director (‘Tomboy’, ‘Girlhood’), who writes her own screenplays, is largely unknown in [T: Germany]. This is most likely about to change with her fourth and most beautiful feature film so far. At the Cannes Film Festival, the period love story between the young painter Marianne and her model Héloïse, daughter of French aristocrats, won the Best Screenplay. Between the rugged landscape of the coast of Brittany and the candlelit interiors of an old villa, the film creates a utopia of solidarity and female desire, in which the characters of Marianne, Héloïse and Sophie the maid overcome class barriers.

Interviewers: Ms Sciamma, ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’ is your first period film, it takes place a few years before the French Revolution. Why is this era important for your story?

Céline Sciamma: My interest in those years came from art history. At the time, there was an unusual number of female painters, hundreds in France and across Europe. It really moved me to discover the biographies of these women, who had successful careers. They supported each other and were very political. There was for example feminist art criticism at the time.

I: Noémie Merlant plays the painter Marianne, who is commissioned to do a portrait of Héloïse, a daughter of aristocrats. There are two main themes: the representation of female painters in bourgeois society and the female gaze – and how this [T: gaze] is reflected in the art world at the time. How are these themes connected?

CS: When I went into more detail about the work of female painters in the late 18th century, I realised how much the female perspective is missing from art history. For me this is the most painful loss, which results from the elimination of the female gaze: this relates to the artwork themselves, but also to what art brings to our lives, the memory of a kind of intimacy.

I: Marianne is not based on a specific female painter. But is she representative of women at the time?

CS: I collaborated with an art sociologist, who did extensive research on this era. All biographical details for Marianne correspond to the time in which she lived. The dynamics of a biopic – a successful woman who defies societal norms – never really interested me. My film is a manifest on the female gaze. But there’s also melancholy in this process, because we have to restore something that has been ignored for a long time.

I: Why melancholy?

CS: It makes me sad, because this perspective was withheld from me all my life. That is why the scene, where Marianne, Héloïse and Sophie the maid re-enact an abortion, is so important for the film. By painting an abortion, the act becomes art and is therefore represented. Art gives women the opportunity to tell their own stories. But it’s not only about the past. The topic of abortion is still virtually invisible in cinema.

I: How do you deal with this lack of female perspectives as a screenwriter and director?

CS: I was aware about the lack of queer and lesbian representation in cinema early on. But it becomes dangerous, when we don’t realise anymore that something is withheld from us. I noticed this again, when I watched ‘Wonder Woman’ by Patty Jenkins. It is hard to express how you feel when you know you’re not represented, and at the same time are oblivious to the power it can give you to recognise yourself in cinema. That was a new experience for me.

I: You were one of the initiators of the 50/50 by 2020 movement, which is committed to gender parity at festivals and in film. What do you expect from Cannes next year?

CS: I’m glad that this topic is finally taken seriously. We set out our target for Cannes and want more transparency in the selection committee. However, to achieve these, you have to introduce quota. The board will be replaced [T: next] year, let’s see how it works. We started a culture war. One of the most important things for me is the work on inclusion. The 50/50 [T: movement] and the film production/promotion agency CNC created a fund for cultural diversity in [T: film] productions last year. There’s usually less budget for films made by female directors, this inequality will be slightly mitigated. More than 20 films have already benefitted from this fund.

I: There is progress on one hand, but on the other hand some things are deteriorating again. Do you see it in a similar way?

CS: We had no MeToo-debate in France, unlike the one in the US. The [T: debate] was quickly hijacked and reinterpreted as discussion about free speech: that feminist film criticism would lead to a new form of censorship. You could feel the backlash in France. A good example: Sandra Muller, who created the French MeToo movement ‘Balance ton Porc’ [T: ‘Denounce your pig’, see here for the evolution of the term ‘pig’ in this context] just lost a libel lawsuit. Action was filed by the man, whose harassing statements she made public. The level of societal discourse is not where it’s supposed to be.

I: You lead by example: There are mainly women working on your sets.

CS: It creates a different atmosphere, that is for sure. But I’ll tell you something: Women only make up 50% of the crew, my crew is probably one of the most diverse in France. Claire Mathon is my cinematographer, but a lot of men work with her. My cutter is a man though. It’s about the right balance. The film world is very much dominated by men, but I don’t want to exclude anyone.

I: In Cannes, you said something similar about your colleague Abdellatif Kechiche, who was criticised for his voyeuristic gaze on women, for example in the Palm d’Or winner ‘Blue is the Warmest Colour’. Do you want a cinema, in which your and his gaze can exist side by side?

CS: We have to be conscious about our perspective. In France, I’m always asked about my female gaze, but no one is ever asking a [T: male] filmmaker about his male gaze. Which is still considered as gender neutral. Of course, you can love ‘Blue is the Warmest Colour’ as much as you love ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’ [T: 😈], otherwise cinema will become a battlefield of ideologies. We just have to learn to read the images correctly. I would like to invite Abdellatif Kechiche to this relatively new discourse. But he should be asked the same questions as me.

I: You call ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’ a manifest on the female gaze. What does that mean?

CS: It starts with the screenplay. I wanted to tell a love story on equal terms. There is no gender-specific power imbalance in the film. That was important for me, especially in a time, in which gender inequality was the social norm. There is also no intellectual dominance between Marianne and Héloïse, they both come from the upper class, are sophisticated and self-determined. Between them, they did not have to negotiate a status.

I: What role did your actresses play in this?

CS: I wrote the film for Adèle Haenel. But it only works if she has a partner who is equal to her. Noémie Merlant is about the same age as Adèle, they are even the same height, which cannot be underestimated in cinema. That’s why shorter actors often have to stand on a pedestal. All these considerations are political, but they are also an offer to the audience: for new emotions, for surprises. Equality creates freedom, because social rules are overturned.

I: As Marianne, Héloïse and Sophie keep to themselves, they are not exposed to the male gaze. They can move freely.

CS: That’s why I don’t think of my film as social utopia. Every utopia is based on our experiences and ideas. You cannot easily find this kind of solidarity among women, you have to create this freedom. That’s why I decided to exclude male characters. What I exclude from the shot also defines what is shown in the picture. That’s the power of cinema.

I: Your film is about the visibility of women. They tell each other, how they see one another – and thus create an image of themselves. At the same time, desire arises from their gazes. How do you create this feeling of intimacy?

CS: We offer a philosophy and politics of love. Even the depiction of queer sexuality in cinema is based on heterosexual paradigms. We first had to learn how to deconstruct this gaze on us. Similarly, it’s also about abolishing the outdated ideal of the muse. There is of course a hierarchy on set, but we tried to transfer the working relationships in the film to our shooting.

I: All your films have queer aspects. Do you ever had any problems to fund your films?

CS: No, but that’s because I don’t need so much money. ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’ did cost 4 Million Euros. If I had asked for 12 Million Euros, it might have been different. I can’t complain. I live in a country, in which I can make these kinds of films and be radical. 23 percent of French films are made by female directors.

I: It seems like there were more [T: female directors] recently?

CS: No, the figure has been constant for 20 years. We are just forgotten and then ‘rediscovered’. Think about Alice Guy-Blanché, who made films at the time of Méliès [T: around the turn of last century]. She did everything by herself, used the first closeup. She literally co-invented the cinema. But like all the women, who were active at the beginning of film history, they were driven out, when it was suddenly about money.

Still from ‘Be natural: The Untold Story of Alice Guy-Blaché’ (Pamela B. Green, 2018)

[yespolkadotkitty]

Tinderbox, pt 14

AMAZING art by @raspberrydreamclouds

Story masterlist

When she came out of the bathroom, changed into a much comfier jersey dress - not wanting to get food on the beautiful borrowed cheong-sam - Marshall stood at the tiny stove. The smell of frying bacon and buttery eggs wound through her little apartment, making it warm, homey. She padded over to him on bare feet. When she slid her arms around him, pressing her face to the soft white shirt he wore, Salami wove between her calves, and she thought: just this.

“You like to cook?”

“I used to cook all the time,” he murmured, flipping the omelette deftly. The eggs were golden. “I think it’s ready.”

“Smells good.” Rosie gave him a squeeze and set the small table with plates and cutlery; filled two glasses with water.

Marshall split the omelette and carried the pan to the table, sliding half on to each plate. She laughed when he came back with a little porcelain bowl of finely chopped parsley.

“Thanks, Gordon Ramsey.”

His lips twitched. “Hardly.” He offered her the bowl and after she’d taken a pinch, he served himself.

“Thank you, really.”

“You’re welcome, really.”

Rosie dug in with gusto. The flavours bloomed on her tongue, the rich, sunshine-bright yolk, the salty bacon, the creamy grand padano, her only indulgence from the Italian-run deli two blocks from her apartment. “On my God. This is amazing.....!”

“Thanks.”

She saw the little blush creep into his cheeks as he forked up another mouthful.

“So…..” He glanced up and it was her turn to blush. “I feel like I know almost nothing about you, even though we’ve…. Well. You know.”

“Yeah.” He took a sip of water. “Well…. What would you like to know?”

She mulled it over as Salami nuzzled at her ankle, probably angling for some bacon. “Have you always been a cop?”

“No, actually. I was SWAT before - transferred when Faye was born. Her, ah, mother was worried about it; it can be dangerous.”

“Do you miss it? SWAT, I mean.”

Marshall lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Yes and no.”

“And how did you meet? Faye’s mom, I mean.”

“Blind date. A friend at the station - precinct, here, isn’t it? - set us up.” He shook his head, smiling, a far off look in his eyes. “I had an excuse all lined up, but, turned out, I didn’t need it.”

Rosie’s heart turned over. “I love that.”

His brow furrowed. “Love what? Talking about my ex?”

“No.” She reached over to snag his free hand, tangling their fingers. “I love that you didn’t downplay it. Some guys I’ve dated would have said how their past lovers didn’t matter, or that they were forgotten. I love that you smiled when you thought of her, and that you served me up a good memory.”

He took a deep breath; she watched a muscle in his jaw twitch. “Even if we’d hated each other, I’ll always be grateful to Angie for giving me Faye. Some part of me will always love her for that.”

“I’m glad.” And she meant it with all her heart. “You can’t just turn love off like a tap. I don’t think people work that way.”

He squeezed her hand, holding her gaze. “I really am sorry I didn’t get in touch. Police work is hell on relationships, Rosie, but I can’t stop thinking about you. Plus, if I let you slip through my fingers, Faye will kick my arse. She does tai kwon do and she’s a girl, so if she’s been listening to me about self defence at all these years, she’ll fight dirty.”

“Faye? You told your daughter about me?”

“Guilty as charged.”

Rosie’s breath hitched. “Walter… wow.”

“Yeah, wow. It’s been a long time since I wanted to try with someone, but, I want to.”

She took a long drink of water. “Me, too. God, please tell me you have condoms.”

“I definitely do have condoms. I bought them on the off chance. I…. hoped.”

Rosie caved to the plaintive meows from Salami and fed the purring cat a tiny morsel of leftover bacon from the edge of her plate. “Thank God. ”

Marshall took the plates and glasses to the sink as Rosie measured cat food into Salami’s bowl. It was oddly comforting, moving together like this. We fit, she thought again, happiness blooming inside her like a flower stretching to the sunlight.

“Help me build the bed?”

He stretched out the futon and covers, and when it was done, she opened her arms and he stepped into them, teasing her neck with his lips. She arched to give him better access, combed her fingers through the thick, dark curls of his hair.

“Do you have work tomorrow?” he whispered by her pulse point.

“Not until two.”

Marshall smiled against her skin, his beard tickling pleasantly. “Good. Because I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and I want to do everything. Multiple times.”

She shivered in anticipation. “Yes, please.”

In the half light from the small hall lamp, his cobalt eyes were very dark, promising pleasure untold. Rosie tipped up his chin and he took the hint, kissing her languidly, taking his sweet time, as they tasted each other. He murmured her name and licked into her mouth, and Rosie looped her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his, feeling the hard lines of him against her, revelling in it.

Marshall nipped her bottom lip playfully, and then his kisses moved down again, dotting over her chin, down to her neck, where the gentle scrape of his jaw scruff rendered her skin super sensitive. As she giggled, a sound she hadn’t heard herself make for, perhaps, years, he captured her lips again, the kiss so tender this time that her heart bumped painfully in her chest.

As he returned to kissing her neck, his hand lifted to cup her breast, his thumb finding the already firm point of her nipple and teasing it to hardness through the soft fabric of her loose jersey dress. She strained towards him, only wanting more, more, more. Please, more.

“ Fuck, Rosie,” he bit out, her name tumbling from his lips like a prayer.

The sound of her name in his accent, like that, set something loose in Rosie. Maybe it was knowing that he seemed as enchanted by this tug-of-war attraction between them as she was, but it was enough.

She slid her hands into his hair again, loving the feel of it, soft and thick, the curls falling between her fingers. She pressed her mouth to his temple as he continued devouring the super sensitive skin of her neck.

For the first time in - well, longer than she could remember, she stopped thinking, and started to simply feel .

It seemed like Marshall was going to take charge, and she-

She would let him. And it would be glorious.

Rosie arched into his hand as he used the other to yank her closer to him, closer still. With their bodies pressed together there was no mistaking the hard ridge in his jeans pressed to her lower belly. The heat of it, the desperate want of it, made muscles deep inside her clench, over and over. She abandoned his hair and instead slid her hands down to cup his amazing ass through his jeans. It had the effect of pushing his erection closer into her, and she helplessly ground up against him, hearing a little mewl of need and realising belatedly that it came from her lips.

“Walter-”

“Bed?” he murmured against her skin.

“God, yes.”

Almost without warning, he swung her up into his arms as if she weighed hardly a thing, walked them both over to the converted futon. When he would have put her down gently on it, Rosie yanked at his lapels until he collapsed on to it, on to her, that long, work-roughened, rangy body pressed deliciously atop hers. She kept hold of his shirt and tugged his face down until their mouths met again, until their tongues tangled. She let Marshall drink her in and gave as good as she got, savouring every taste, every new texture.

He buried his hands in her hair, and Rosie took the opportunity to start on the buttons of his shirt. He’d looked delicious as sin at the museum, his crisp, snowy shirt slightly open at the neck, exposing that tempting curve where his neck met his shoulders. His jeans hugged his hips like a lover. She wanted her legs there tonight. Every night.

Impatient now, Rosie tore open the last button and shoved the edges of the shirt aside, feasting on his bare chest with her fingers and palms, smoothing her hands over the curls of his chest hair. When she could bear it no more she broke the kiss and used her eyes, too, allowing herself a visual feast of his sculpted physique. The planes and angles of his chest didn’t disappoint. This view would live in her fantasies for some time to come.

She pushed the shirt down his shoulders and it fell to the floor.

Marshall raised a brow, his expression playful. “Impatient?”

Rosie grinned back, feeling light. “I’m simply someone who knows what she wants.”

“And gets it?”

She slid a hand down his naked back to rest on his belt, happiness and desire twinning to make her feel light. “What does it look like to you?”

Thanking my beta, @ly--canthrope ! The next chapter will be pure smut, I promise.

Tagging: @watermeloncavill @dancingwendigo @maggotzombie @hopelessromanticspoonie @just-the-hiddles @abehn250 @littlefreya @brokenthelovely @wanderinglunarnights @mrsaugustwalker @townmoondaltwhistle @captain-rogers-beard @ayamenimthiriel @rayofdawnworld @alyxkbrl @stxphmxlls @mary-ann84 @the-jer-bear @pinkzsugar @peakygroupie @wildwavehc @andahugaroundtheneck @thethirstyarchive @manawhaat @agniavateira @cavillhavoc @dr-kayleigh-dh @boiled-onionrings @promptandpros​ @screamingrennergasm​ @ravenpuff02​ @chook007​ @xocali @magdelen69​

[theonceoverthinker]

Friday the Flirteenth (1/?)

Summary: Qrow likes to avoid others on Friday the Thirteenth. He claims he’s doing it for everyone else’s sake, and that they’re better off if he spends the day alone in his room. Clover’s not having any of his self-loathing bullshit -- not today, and not ever, if he has anything to say about it.

AO3

A/N: You ever come up with an AMAZING pun and then find a way to write a fic around that? Well, that’s happened here! I’ve wanted to release this for SO long, and finally, I can...at least release part 1! Yeah, illnesses have made this a hard fic to finish, but fortunately, I have enough here to release a respectable first chapter to what will hopefully be a respectable MC! I hope you enjoy it! Tagging @fair-game-week!

BIG thanks to my beta, @skybird13. Sky, you’re the best, and I hope you understand that. Coordinating with you with my works makes me feel so confident in them. I want you to know more than anything how much I value your help and support, not just in this fic, but in everything, and I hope we’re friends for a long time to come!!!!

()()()()()()()()

Chapter One: Fourteen Hours, and A Whole Lot of Peanuts

Qrow Branwen liked peanuts. 

They were cheap, could be found just about anywhere in Remnant, had a pleasantly salty taste, and served as the perfect snack on days where he had no intention of stepping so much as a toe outside of his room.

So, in anticipation for Friday the Thirteenth, Qrow bought a LOT of peanuts.

When one had a semblance like his, a day dedicated to the very concept of bad luck was one that couldn’t be dismissed without some burden on their conscience. In fact, Friday the Thirteenth more than most any other day put extra responsibilities upon Qrow’s shoulders -- a responsibility to not cause any more trouble than necessary, a responsibility to stay away from anyone who he might accidentally harm, and a responsibility to keep the other two responsibilities secret from all who might try to intervene on his behalf.

And, just as he usually did, Qrow accepted those responsibilities and kept himself at a distance from all.

Fourteen hours. He just had to stay in his room alone for fourteen hours. 

He’d lasted a lot longer on his own many times before.

It wasn’t that big of a problem, at least not in previous years. Thanks to a lifetime’s worth of practice, Qrow knew the most secluded spots in all of Remnant to hide in on occasions like this, and the fastest routes to get to them from pretty much anywhere. And with no one but enemies on his trail, there was little risk that the day provided to anyone, or at least, anyone who didn’t deserve it.

But things weren’t so simple this year.

This year, he had his nieces and a gaggle of kids as traveling companions.

This year, he resided in an Atlesian military base, one that restricted access to any type of real seclusion further than the privacy of his own room.

This year, he despised the man he had formerly dedicated his life to.

This year, things were complicated, and his semblance always loved running amok when things were complicated.

But, as he reminded himself, some of those complications ended up turning into triumphs.

Sure, it was the first year without the hope Ozpin provided. But it was also the first year where  Qrow had a different kind of hope to keep him going. It was a kind of hope that made itself tangible through his nieces’ determination, his own efforts to fight off the allure of alcohol, and as of late, an encouraging smile and a flirty wink from a kind man with a semblance that seemingly counteracted his own…

Clover…

Clover...

Well, in a life of complications, Clover stood out as one of the biggest he’d ever faced. His very presence complicated everything in Qrow’s headspace all over again.

Still, that wasn’t a bad thing.

At least, Qrow was pretty sure it wasn’t.

Clover...Clover was really something else…

If someone were to ask Qrow to describe Clover after their disastrous first meeting, he’d have more than a couple of choice words for them -- cocky, pedantic, narcissistic. But things changed once they started working together, and as he learned more about Clover, while all of those descriptors were still true, the words themselves took on an entirely new shape for Qrow. What was cockiness just days before was now self assuredness, what was pedantic was revealed to really be caution on behalf of those he worked with and for, and what was narcissistic was actually a confidence that he created for himself, a confidence based in real pride in who he was and how that pride amounted to far more than just his semblance.

Additionally, a new word came to mind, too -- warm. It was a genuine warmth that flowed through each and every one of Clover’s words, and accompanying that warmth was a trust in those fortunate enough to be on the receiving end of them. It was hard not to return that trust in kind with some of his own, and for the first time in a while, Qrow felt no need to resist doing just that. 

It surprised Qrow sometimes just how much he had already divulged to Clover. Part of the reason for that came out of a desire to put his best foot forward for their assigned partnership. Part of it was a warning in the interest of Clover’s safety. But some things couldn’t be explained away so easily, and could only be attributed to a real sense of trust.

Frankly, it was nice having something like that again with someone. 

And it wasn’t even just Clover’s personality that painted the portrait that was Clover Ebi. Looking at Clover was like looking at a cloudless sky on a spring day. He was bright, bold -- brilliant, even. His smile was caked in charm -- true charm -- and his brow was shaped with a resolve to keep promises Qrow knew he probably could, promises he likely made to himself, Ironwood, and his country. 

Maybe there was even a promise to Qrow somewhere in that mix. 

No -- there was no maybe. He was sure there was.

But there was a coolness in Clover’s being too, both in his demeanor and his personality. There was an untold story in his eyes, one uncared for by his teammates, and only allowed to exist through fleeting expressions here and there during moments where he let his guard fall down. And that same jaw that held his charm like a jug held water held tension there too, as if there was an entire book’s worth of things he wanted to say, but for whatever reason didn’t. It was enough to make anyone who saw those things pretty curious about what hidden depths might be underneath that veil of job-dictated professionalism.

Qrow spent far more time thinking about all that he had left to uncover about Clover than he would ever admit.

After all, there was a lot to ask about what went on in that man’s mind, especially when it led him to befriend him, of all people.

But that wink Clover gave him on their first mission together made Qrow wonder if befriending him was all Clover wanted to do.

And regardless of how he felt in return, Qrow had to wonder whether or not he should try to stop him before Clover jumped further down the rabbit hole that was his life.

Qrow was bad news.

Then again, just about everything having to do with Clover was good news, and perhaps the exact thing that rabbit hole of his could use in its life was a lucky rabbit’s foot to help fill it up.

Wow...that was sappy.

Even on his worst days, Clover seemed able to bring out a little bit of sappiness in him. Go figure.

But, whatever fate had in store for him and Clover could wait to be further unearthed until tomorrow. Hell, he might even have time to muse on what that might be today, because for the next fourteen hours, it would be just himself, his room, and an overabundance of peanuts fighting against the slowly whiling hours of time.

Jeez...greater good or not, even Qrow could admit just how sad that was...

Maybe his abandonment of his morning coffee would at least grant him a nap and make the day go by faster…

He’d certainly prefer it that way.

Before he could even attempt to take advantage of his coffee’s absence, two knocks hit his door.

Perhaps it was foolish to think no one would bother him today -- after all, in Atlas, there was always something going on -- but he had a day off of Huntsmen duties while most everyone else he knew didn’t. He’d hoped against hope that meant that he’d be left in peace for the day.

Apparently, it didn’t.

Just his luck…

“Hello?” Qrow called out, reluctantly standing up.

“Qrow?”

Immediately, he recognized the voice, the voice that had burned itself into his memory within a matter of weeks and now had a summer cottage nestled somewhere between his brain and heart.

And there he was, letting that sappiness invade his thoughts again…

Of course the one person responsible for inspiring it was the one visiting him on the absolute worst day to do so.

Qrow approached and opened the door.

Just as he suspected, it was Clover who stood on the other side, as chipper as ever. After willing himself to hold back a grimace at the unexpectedness of his or anyone’s visit, Qrow noticed two cups of coffee in his hands. 

“You missed your morning cup,” Clover stated, offering one of the ones in his hand to Qrow. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Despite himself and everything the day represented for him, Qrow let down his guard ever so slightly at the awkward way Clover explained himself. He wasn’t thrilled about someone showing up on his doorstep, but that’s not to say it wasn’t nice to see a friendly face at all, especially in the face of the rest of his sure-to-be lonely day.

“Thanks,” he said, accepting the cup with a light smile he allowed to surface.

“So,” Clover said, elongating the vowel for a few seconds as he expectantly stared at Qrow.

“So?” Qrow repeated, matching Clover’s delivery and adding in a bit of confusion. 

“IS everything okay?” 

“Yeah,” Qrow said, shrugging.

Clover quirked his brow. He didn’t look convinced, and unwilling to give Qrow so much as the chance to rectify that. 

“It’s not, though, is it?”

Qrow fought the urge to bit his cheek, but paid the cost of that with a tremor in his voice.

“W-what do you mean?”

“You not coming down for coffee is strange on its own,” Clover elaborated, “but you haven’t even left your room and it’s nearly ten. Usually, even on your lazy days, you’re out and about by half past eight, at the latest.”

“So I slept in a bit,” Qrow defended, shrugging in what he hoped would be a casual enough manner. “What’s the big deal?”

“It wouldn’t be a big deal at all if it wasn’t Friday the Thirteenth.”

Qrow blinked, flustered even more so than when Clover had started pressing him. Clover merely looked at him expectantly. 

How did he-?

Sure, Clover had a calendar, but why would he-?

Damnit, Clover...

“It’s a day for bad luck,” Qrow explained, his mood dark out of instinct more than malice. “Given my semblance --”

“It’s a day for superstitions,” Clover insisted.

“You seem to like yours just fine.” Qrow made a circle with his finger that encompassed the various lucky charms on Clover’s outfit.

Clover smiled as if he saw the rebuttal coming from a mile away.

“These are just here to make the uniform pop,” he said, laughter bubbling underneath him, as if Qrow had just walked into a trap. “And judging by how you clearly seemed to take notice of them, it looks like they’ve done their jobs quite nicely.” 

Just as he finished speaking, Clover winked right at Qrow, something that was very quickly becoming a habit of his when they were around each other. Fria must’ve imbued that wink with some of her magic or something because it always felt just a bit overpowering.

Qrow made a noise that would’ve sounded more at home in his bird form than the form that actually delivered it.

“Okay, but even still,” Qrow said, quickly pushing to make Clover forget about that sound, “you know what kind of things are out there in this world. Magic exists, fairy tale maidens and Grimm are running amok -- who's to say something like Friday the Thirteenth isn’t real, too? What reason do I have to trust that my semblance won’t go haywire on a day devoted to it?”

“If you stay in your room,” Clover countered, just as quickly as Qrow had with him, “you’re making things worse for yourself. Come on,” he said, his tone brightening alongside a fresh, new smile. “We can go get an early lunch. There’s a fantastic sushi restaurant just on the outskirts of the academy that you’ll love. Their rolls put the ‘ah’ in ‘tuna.’”

Now it was Qrow’s turn to quirk his brow. “And if I leave my room, I’ll risk making things worse for everyone else. I’m not leaving. Maybe we can go to that restaurant tomorrow.”

Qrow expected Clover to keep pushing back with yet another comment, but instead, he just took a patient, deep breath.

He then shrugged.

“And I was so excited to take you there, too,” Clover lamented. “But, oh well. Have it your way, then.”

Without giving Qrow so much as a second to respond, Clover gently pushed him to the side, walked inside his room, and sat down on one of the chairs across from his bed. Qrow was stuck somewhere between being utterly stunned by the action, and not at all. After all, this was pretty standard Clover Ebi behavior in that it was utterly unpredictable.

That’s not to say it was necessarily welcome -- or that Qrow would admit it even if it was.

And this morning, he was feeling particularly stubborn in his quest for solitude.

“That wasn’t an invitation to join me,” Qrow snipped.

Clover simply lounged back into the plush chair, easing his knees as his legs spread forward. “Well, if you won’t come out with me, then I’ll simply have to come in with you.” He then pulled something out of his pocket, something that instantly brought another grimace to Qrow’s face, all the while smiling. 

“Up for some cards?”

Qrow groaned.

He knew it when he woke up, and he was even more sure of it now: This was gonna be a long, long fourteen hours.

[chaotichuman0090]

"His safest place" | Kayden Vescovi x Josephine Everhart

A/n: YESSS it's finally here!!!! My first fic! 🥳🥳 Well it was done a while ago (after a lot of planning), but I'm posting it now because I finally have some spare time and space lmao.😅

That being said, I didn't expect it to be so long (no pun intended). I should've probably split it in two parts but eh...

It's been a nice experience. Might do it again sometimes. I'd also prescribe a dose of Kayden to everyone here. I mean, just take a look at him.... *whew* 🥵

Oh, by the way, tell me if you catch any mistakes or weird typos, please. (english is my second language so I might get things wrong sometime).

This is set a few months after the end of the book.

Pairing: Kayden Vescovi - MC (Josephine Everhart) | The Royal Masquerade |

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Vonberry is the name I gave to my dear bear cub, bless him! 🧡

Words: 3370

Warnings: N*FW content (basically the whole second part, no pressure; almost smut at the end of the first part too. Almost because... I just thought it would be too much for a first attempt)

Tagging: @walkerswhiskeygirl @masquerade-reimagined @kayann9

P.s. Thank you guys for your support!! I appreciate it and it helped a lot! Sorry to keep you waiting though..

I can't wait to hear what you think of this. Big hugs!

If you'd like to be tagged in future let me know!

Okay. Enjoy!!!

Annalisa paced the outside of Josephine's house, growing slightly unpatient, yet still feeling overjoyed at the thought of seeing her sister after so long.

It was well past noon when she arrived after a whole day journey. It didn't took much for her to take matter into her own hands and went to see how she's doing.

And today was a day she was looking forward to.

She scowled at herself and leaned her back against the railing and examined the little garden in front of her. Last time she had seen her sister was after King Fabian's coronation.

When she finally felt like she had enough of wating she decided to go inside, leaving the door open on her way in.

The sweet, delicious smell of fresh baked goods instantly reaches her nose as she quickly moved closer, she heard the faint sound of Josephine's voice and stops into the doorway without announcing herself yet.

"Vonberry, I told you before, you are not allowed in when I'm baking, you little... oh.." Josephine looked behind and stopped abruptly. It was safe to say she was taken aback by the person in front of her.

"Annalisa?"

She didn't have enough time to react as her sister enveloped her in a big hug that reminded them both of all the moments they've spent together at the Everhart estate.

"What... what are you doing here?" She stammered on her words, her eyes glossy and full of emotions accompanied by a big smile on her face.

"Well, forgive me for wanting to see how my dear sister is doing." Annalisa remarked quickly, puling back from the hug."I only hope you missed me just as much."

"You know what I mean." Josephine said, looking fondly at her.

"I suppose you've been quite busy."she said, looking around the messy room, with a grin on her face. There was flour and pastries of all kinds spread on the counter.

"I think I had spent all morning here."Josephine let out a long breath, the corner of her mouth curled upwards.

"Did you came all the way here alone?"She asked her sister, surprised.

"I did not came here on a fancy carriage with two white horses and dozens of sevrants anyway, if that's what you're asking." Annalisa stated with a lightly amused tone, expresing how giddy she felt about their reunion.

"I always knew you had an odd sense of humor". Josephine's eyes glimmered, matching the smirk in the corner of her mouth.

Their sweet joyful laugh echoed through the halls, in the whole house. Josephine decided to finish her task later, before joining her sister at the table, proceed on serving a cup of tea and carried on with the conversation.

"So, tell me, how did you adapt to your new life? And Kayden?" The question gained Annalisa a funny look and a quiet snort. To her disbelief she continued ..."He better treat you well or so help me-"

"Of course he does. He's... a dream come true" Josephine responded quickly, reminiscing about their wonderful, precious memories together, with a soft smile plastered on her face the whole time.

" I know, sister. I was merely joking." An easy smile replacing her previous frown.

"Anyone can see it on his face. He loves you with all his being. He would give his life only for you to be happy. It's a strong love. It's unbreakable." Annalisa said while looking her in the eyes.

"Speaking of which," Josephine spoke after a small pause. "I presume things are going well with Percival." She looked up, raising a brow, a teasing smile on her lips.

"Oh, you know how self-restraint he can be sometimes," Annalisa declared nonchalantly, "But we balance each other, since I'm an excellent lover, so to speak." She remarked with a grin, nodding proudly to herself.

A brief utterly childlike laugh escaped Josephine's lips, dissolving soon into a fit of laughter and her sister followed her soon.

"You're a breath of fresh air, Annalisa!" She said with a shake of her head.

The truth was she couldn't wait to spend the rest of the day in the company of her dear sister, catching up after long time away.

After Annalisa left, Josephine began preparing diner for her and Kayden, deciding on a delicious roasted chicken over a bed of fresh, hearty vegetables.

Everything was done by the time Kayden arrived home and she carefully put the meal on a tray with legs, picking out a few baked rolls as well, and took them to the table.

Needless to say the food tasted delicious as usuall, the rich aroma of the dish making her mouth water.

They ate in comfortable silence, listening to the wind gusting through the tree branches outside.

He watched her pick a small piece of meat off with her fingers and pop it into her mouth, chewing slowly.

A sweet smile reached her lips as she looked up at him, watching his hand that is holding the wine glass while picking at the food in his plate.

"I can tell your mind is full of busy thoughts without reading it. How can I help?" Josephine asked with evident concern, placing her hand on top of his.

Kayden looked down at their hands and mumbled something inchoerent, then cleared his throat.

He gave a quick shrug as a response while keeping his eyes on the table, looking lost in thoughts.

Slowly, he stood, and rounded the table to her, offering his hand. After a few moments she took it and he helped her stand but didn't go anywhere.

"Dance with me?" The question left his lips hesitantly, almost like he tried to restain his desire.

She agreed, allowing him to twirl her around, soon developing into a mix of passion and heavy, graceful footsteps without the steady drum of music.

They moved together, her arched back over a bridge of emotions, relishing the way their breath quicken with each step, feet guiding them across the floor, spinning, dibs, slow sways and more.

They danced for a while, the candlelight flickering shadows across the room. Nither of them said anything, feeling content with the silence.

Kayden was holing her, but not the way he held her the first time they danced, months ago, or even after that. He didn't hold her like she was his saving grace, his light in a world of darkness. Instead he held her softly and sweetly like they've been lovers for years. Like she was his safest place.

Josephine held him back that way, as she imagined a wife would hold her husband, lovingly, wrapping her arms tighter around him, closing her eyes and leaning in to rest her head on his chest.

Kayden welcomed her embrace, holding her tighter as well.

Their pace slowed and they stayed in one place , moving as only seemed natural.

"I love how we're always in perfect sync". Josephine said with a small smile playing on her lips.

Kayden did not reply to her straight away, instead he debates on a way to express his next words.

"With all the time I spent working these past few days," he continued carefully "I neglected you."

"Forgive me." Kayden's voice sounded tense and concerned for a moment; he looked deeply into her eyes, before kissing the top of her head.

"You need a break you know" Josephine gave a quiet sigh then raised on her tip toes to give him a delicate kiss filled with desire and devotedness, her hands sliding from his jaw to his hair, lips not breaking apart as their emotions took hold on them.

"I am taking a break now and... plainly wishing you would join me in our room later." His breathless, husky voice was close to her ear now, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"Careful, Kayden. I might just keep you there for good." Josephine went on, waiting for a reaction from him. Kayden just raised an eyebrow at her and smiled subtly.

"Or perhaps I have planed to spend my night with a new book." She teased , exchanging a smile with him.

"I don't believe that even for a moment." He murmured in a deep and low voice, his warm breath close to her forehead.

The two of them were aware of the unconditional love they held for each other. They whisperd it with each glance of their eyes and each brush or their lips.

Kayden was open now. He told her many things, stories of his life when he was a child, growing up at the Vescovi estate, as his father son, still unsuitable for that also. He told her how that place became devoid of any significance, of life, as he grew older and more resentful by it every day.

Josephine understood that he'd been spurred on by whispers of untold secrets and the unmistakable feeling of guilt and inadequacy resting on his shoulders for too long.

It brought her back to the realization that he was still haunted by old pains. Things that happened in the past that he'll never get over. She couldn't bear to watch that pain flood his eyes, not again. It would not be the reason it came back again.

But she knew well that whatever was holding him back before, would not hold him back from now on. In a whole chaotic and nosy world, they managed to find each other. She swore to cherish every moment she has by his side.This world has already lost its magic for some, that she knew.

Spine tingling sansations, carrying so much emotion that she believed they'd had both gotten enough, still they find themselves observing the backside of his palm reaching out to the surface of her neck, under her ear before leaning forward to place a few more kisses and soft bites. Truthfully, she was unable to find the right words, her whole body burning with passion as she felt a flooding urge in other hidden places, that Kayden was well aware of.

"You've had a long day too. What is absolutely necessary right now is a... foot massage." His tone making it plain he meant more than he said."I believe that would be rather satisfying."

That sounded more like a promise, she thought.

She hummed in agreement, followed by a short laugh, her head hiden in the crock of his neck.

"I'm glad you find me amusing" Kayden quipped instantly. Not waiting for another response, he lowered her in a graceful dip, her long hair now swaying close to the floor.

Josephine can only stare up into those impossibly beautiful brown eyes, watching with bated breath as they morph into her own, seeing their entire future layed out.

Kayden pulls her back with him squeezing her hands gently before releasing them and took a step back. His eyes lingered on her with anticipation of his next words.

He was tall, ethereal, intimidating and formidable to her.

"Take off your dress!" said Kayden, his voice soft but demanding, nodding to her simple thin red dress that she had on.

Josephine starts to strip the material off her skin, taking her time, while silently enjoying his half-lidded eyes still gazing hungrily over her. Upon seeing the way he was looking at her sent shivers down her spine.

Soon after she's done and left only in her undergarments, Kayden moves closer to her and brushed the hair from her face, sweeping all of it over one shoulder before gripping it in a strong fist like he can't hold back anymore.

He crashed his lips down on hers, his hands burried withing the strands of hair, urging her towards him. His other hand pressed at the small of her back and drew her closer, just as he angled his head to kiss her deeper, mingling their scents along with their lips.

Josephine felt like she was losing not only her footage but also her mind. She griped onto his broad shoulders, trying to get even closer, if that was possible.

He hummed something against her that got drowned in a kiss, but whatever he wanted to say was not important, she gathered as his lips moved down to her neck, tracing the pulse pounding against her skin with his tongue. A soft moan found its way out of her parted lips as Kayden firmly gripped her waist, trailing kisses down the exposed skin along the way, making her back arch up.

He took a moment to let her breath and, with a quick movement, tossed his shirt to the side,while she starts undoing the buttons of his trousers, letting them drop to the floor.

They stumbled carelessly around, heading for the bed, Kayden letting them both fall onto the soft matress. Their limbs were entangled together, under the warm quilts of the bed, hidden from sight; it was a special moment which only they were witness to.

_________________________________________

It was well past midnight when Josephine woke up suddenly, sensing the coolness of the room that was illuminated only by the starlight and the bright moon through the tiny window, casting them in blue shadows. She turned around in bed and sat still, rubbing her eyes and blinking slowly and just laid there wondering what cound have interrupted her sleep this early but did not ponder over it too much.

Shortly after, she found herself musing on the unforgettable events from last night, blood rushing to her cheeks at the thought. Looking over at Kayden who was still sleeping soundlessly next to her, his lower body covered by the blanket and his arm draped over her side of bed.

She had a crooked, sleepy grin on her face and brought her hand up to his face, touching his lower lip with the tip of her finger.

She was looking at him in awe, taking in the smoothness of his features illuminated by the moonlight. Kayden. Her Kayden.

After a few moments of deliberation she moved carefully, not to disturbe him, and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.

Gently touching his cheek, she ever so slightly brushed her lips against his jaw. Of course he was too deep in his sleep to notice but it made her heart dance.

She then began nipping at his ear lobe, softly, with just a right hint of passion, then worked her way back, trailing lingering kisses from his stubbled jaw to his neck, down to his defined collarbone.

Josephine's hands travel from his chest down to the taut muscles of his stomach, sliping lower, caressing him through the material of his briefs and he harden further beneath her touch.

She could feel his arousal where she was straddling him as she pressed down on his hips, and it sent a bolt of heat straight to her core. She drew a slow, careful breath and her hands tightened around his shoulders.

A grunt slipped out of his parted lips, the sound matching the dark look in his now open eyes. He always found appealing that lascivious yet lovely look on her.

He lifted his hips, pressing his hardness against her and Josephine sighed and instinctively rolled her hips against him in return. Kayden hissed against her lips and his hands moved down, holding her tightly to him as he repeated the action.

Kayden kept his eyes closed momentarily and he took a deep breath, and then his eyes opened. Holding her gaze he rolled her on her back in a swift movement and pinned her beneath him before grabbing her face and slammed his lips to her.

This kiss was almost explosive, with the way they’d been teasing each other all day, and she moaned when Kayden nibbled on her lower lip before he dragged his mouth down her neck to the sensitive spot there. She practically melted against him, and she felt him smile against her as he tugged at her skin with his teeth, then lavished the spot with his lips and tongue.

Shifting his body and lowering his head, he circles her nipple with his tongue before tugging gently with his teeth, heaving her instantly whimper softly and arching into him.

"Ohh, don't stop." She gasped, panting for breath, her heart hammering in her chest, not daring to look away.

"Oh, I assure you, we're not finished yet." Kayden said, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips as he does so. He gave her that smoldering, piercing gaze that made her swallow hard and made a shiver run down her spine.

She knows that he's playing with her, making her wait when she can hardly bare it.

"I need you... please." her voice broke in a throaty whisper, and hearing that was all it took for him to stop and look at her one more time before his touch stirred every nerve in her body and brain.

She drew a sharp breath as he entered her in one, long, steady push; pulling all the way out, before he slid inside her again until he filled her completely.The muscles of her thighs tremble and then relax as his thumb massaged high on her inner thigh while his mouth worked its magic. 

Kayden quickly wraps a hand around her wrists and pins them above her head as he thrusts his hips into her, picking up his pace. Instantly she noticed that his eyes held a row intensity, never looking away from her.

Josephine savored the feeling of him inside her, moving only to lock her legs around his waist and pull him deeper.

Repositioning a hand between them, his fingers moved with purpose, using firm movements that weren’t too hard; slow enough to draw things out, but fast enough to keep building her pleasure.

He felt her tighten around him as he continued to thrust deeper into her, the action setting off another shattering moan from her.

A deep groan escaped his lips as the tension inside him coiled tightly and his thrusts becoming more erratic every passing second.

His hips now jolted hers, spearing her with each thrust until she was reduced to shuddering gasps.

"Kayden!" She gasped, barely able to get his name out, her toes curling and back arching into him as pleasure radiated throughout her body.

Kayden followed her shortly and, after a few more deep strokes, his body went rigid, shuttering in pleasure as he found its release, breath hitching and fingers digging into her flash.

Right after that, he collapsed on top of her with a heavy sigh, burying his head in her chest, still moving shallowly into her spent body, while she tenderly ranks her fingers through his hair, crooning at him.

He took a few moments to breath, then rissing up slowly, his strong arms supporting him above her, he kissed her swollen lips twice and paused and gave her a look that Josephine could only describe as love.

"What is it, love? Are you well?" She asked but he knew she was just teasing now from the evident gleam in her eyes.

"Trust me, I am. I'm just... taking you in." He whispered, not being able to retain the intimate tone in his voice.

"But I think I'll spare you the details." He chuckled when her face flamed up a little, being aware that she caught on the hint.

After what seemed like ages he moved himself from atop her, settling on his side and tugged the sheets around their bodies before wrapping her tightly up against his chest while pressing himself in closer somehow, to her, despite already leaving no space between them.

Josephine could sense the corners of Kayden's lips lifting up to a small smile before silence fell between them. She let herself get confortable in his soothing arms, in the quietness of their house, savoring the blissful afterglow, as every bone in her body relaxed and her covered chest slowly rose and fell, gentle breaths escaping her mouth.

The world can wait, Josephine thought. As far as she's concerned this man in her bed is the only world that matters, and she intends to give him just as much love and care, if not more so, as he gifts her.

[frooopsen]

Kyalin - Part 5

thanks to @linguini17 for beta-reading!

Running

Lin knew Kya hadn’t wanted to let her leave. Now that she was roaming the streets and the wind whipped against her skin, she wanted to return and fetch a scarf or stay home entirely. But she wasn’t done thinking and far too determined to let the most irritating element get in the way of that.

She occasionally watched her reflection in the windows she passed. You move differently. You have for a while now. She didn’t see how she moved any differently; that was just how she walked. Was there anything wrong with that?

Fear is a powerful mind blocker, Kya had said.

She had feared for Kya’s life before. She had feared for her sister and even herself in some moments. Yet she had still been able to bend on those occasions. How was this any different? There wasn’t even a real threat. It didn’t make sense. Why didn’t it make any sense? She unconsciously increased her pace as the frustration had to find some sort of outlet.

You’re trying so hard to overcome the uncomfortable feelings that you don’t give them enough room to exist for a while. When Kya talked, she understood almost every word and everything seemed so logical. But then and there, passing houses and crossing streets, it didn’t. After all, you couldn’t just sit down and decide to feel angry, then sad and then a little confused. Even she knew emotions didn’t work like that. What had Kya meant?

Just give it time. It will fall into place. “Yeah, right,” she muttered to herself. Nothing was falling into place. The only thing changing was that she had hoped the tension would fade away by talking. Instead it had increased. Now it felt like a heavy blanket laying on top of them and the feelings she had wished to resolve had taken over her thoughts completely. It had gotten to the point where she had misfiled a report earlier this week. That hadn’t happened since…well…ever.

And she hadn’t even been the one to notice, but some stupid detective. Then she had felt it again, that helplessness. She had barely finished forming a conclusion as to why that had been the case before Kya’s voice echoed again.

Talking isn’t the easy way out. It’s the hard way through. That had proved to be right. Though she wasn’t entirely sure about the ‘through’-part. What was on the other side of this nonsense?

Anger had begun to build up inside her and for the fear of once again lashing out at Kya she had thought it best to leave. Kya deserved better. Lin knew anger was her defense mechanism. Kya had said that once in a booze-induced conversation. Kya, the one willing to keep up with her shit and bothering to help – the only one to really bother.

And why did she? What did she see in Lin that she herself missed? Or rather, how did she not see her like the others? Kya called her beautiful, warm and generous. Her, the bitter and stubborn woman. Unlovable, as everyone else had never been shy of reminding her.

Lin felt her thoughts slipping into a direction she didn’t like. People calling her those things – her sister. She had enough to deal with already – she didn’t need a reminder of how horrible people had made her feel. She tried concentrating on their conversation again, but now it was like Kya’s voice was somewhere else. Too far away for Lin to hear.

What if Kya left her? Was that what the dream had really been about? Would Kya leave her if Lin couldn’t be in touch with her emotional side like she wanted? Well Lin wasn’t her. It didn't seem fair to be up against those expectations. We can’t all be carefree hippies. Lin blushed as she felt guilty for even thinking that. Saying it aloud would have hurt Kya. Lin knew Kya wasn’t as carefree as she seemed. This is exactly why she had left. To let off steam that might have left their relationship bruised.

She stopped walking and turned her head to see a familiar face looking back at her. Two scars on the right cheek – reminders. She didn’t see fear in the woman’s face. There was an even uglier emotion. Regret. She blinked but kept her gaze on the reflection. “Why are you like this?” she asked, hoping for an answer. Silence.

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

Kya sat at the kitchen table flipping through a cookbook. She usually liked cooking without recipes, but today she had already spent her creativity and energy on the conversation. Normally conversations about people’s feelings didn’t wear her out like that. She had always felt refreshed and enriched afterwards and it pained her that it was different with Lin. It was the first thing making her doubt. Not her love for Lin, but the nature of their relationship. They had confessed their love for each other a long time ago, but their paths hadn’t aligned again until a few years back. They had been apart for years and there were periods where Kya had spent weeks, months even, without thinking about Lin. She imagined it must have been the same for the other woman. Lin lead a busy life with an even busier career. And, as they had both realized, that didn’t leave a lot of time for thinking. Or feeling.

When she had sometimes thought about being in a lasting relationship with someone – and it hadn’t been often – she had always seen herself with someone she could have philosophical conversations with. Someone who wanted to know how the person they were was rooted in past experiences.

Of course she could do that with Lin. The woman was overly educated on the things that mattered. She had to be. As chief of police you had to know your politics and history, otherwise embarrassment was right around the corner. Lin had always been interested in these things, for personal reasons even. Kya admired the knowledge she had assembled over the years. They never ran out of topics to discuss or stories to tell; something that had always filled her with doubt before. At some point in relationships – regardless of whether they were romantic or platonic – it always felt like she didn’t have anything more to say or talk about. That didn’t happen and it wasn’t because they spent most of their time in silence. They didn’t have the desire to constantly share their experiences. Just being there was enough, sometimes. Both women knew that neither of them was in a hurry to know everything about one another – there was enough time for that. When they talked, they didn’t always feel the need to finish their stories. Leaving some things untold for weeks on end until someone felt like revisiting. It was so easy with Lin – just drifting.

Kya tried to fathom why Lin had problems expressing her feelings, when she didn’t lack empathy or eloquence. There was a missing link; and it wasn’t access to herself. She had seen Lin’s anger, her fear, her adoration. It was all visible and she had no doubt Lin understood the emotions for what they were. So what was it? A missing role model, maybe?

Lin’s mother had never been one for emotions. The times Kya had gotten Lin to talk about ‘the greatest earthbender in history’, the word ‘gentle’ or anything like it hadn’t appeared in her description. And her father…

Even if Lin never dwelled on the fact that she had grown up without him or that she hadn’t even known his name until a few years back, Kya knew it still hurt her. She had wanted to include him in the list of people who had left her, but she hadn’t dared. This was all so surreal. How had they managed to get themselves into this mess?

She sighed as she made her way to the fridge. Lin had left hours ago and she didn’t want to wait any longer. She hated the waiting. She didn’t know what else they had to discuss concerning the dream, but she knew for sure that Lin shutting off again couldn’t have been the end of the conversation. It wasn’t enough. Maybe for Lin, but not for her. She needed more and when the other woman came back home, she would tell her.

It was her turn to stop holding back. She loved Lin and Lin loved her. They both knew that, though it seemed to be the only constant throughout the past weeks. How on earth had this stupid dream managed to drive a wedge between them? It had seemed so innocent at first. Yet, they had both underestimated the potential for fear and pain.

Over the years, she had come to be careful not to place too much importance on dreams. After all, dreams were images the subconscious assembled. Sure, the core usually had a deeper meaning, but what if she had been wrong this time? Had she made matters worse by forcing interpretations on the matter? It hadn’t occurred to her that Lin might have had a point. Could it have been a brutal police report Lin had read and then combined with the person she spent most of her time with? Kya had been so focused on getting her to talk that maybe she had missed some of the lines she had claimed not to have crossed. “Of course she’d run,” she muttered while mixing some vegetables together, “Shit, I would have too, a few years back.”

On the other hand, they were grown adults. She convinced herself that this surely meant something and her frustration was back. Kya was tired of guessing and theorizing as to what made Lin act the way she did.

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

They were sitting across from each other at the dinner table. Neither of them was particularly hungry, yet they ate in silence until Kya cleared her throat.

“Where’d you wander off to?” She did her best to sound soft and not too inquisitive and got mad at herself for doing so. She had just decided to not to put her feelings behind Lin’s, but it changed now that they were together.

“Oh, just around the city. Nowhere in particular.”

“Oh, ok.”

Kya had stared at the earthbender pushing the food around on her plate until it was Lin’s turn to break the deafening silence. “The food is good, I’m just not that hungry.”

‘It’s alright,’ Kya tried to say.

“If you don’t want to talk, then don’t,” was what left her lips instead.

Lin scoffed, but didn’t divert her gaze from the food in front of her. “I thought all you wanted me to do was talk. Then, when I do, you’re still not happy.”

Kya put down her chopsticks. “You’re not supposed to talk to make me happy and you know that. Besides, maybe you spoke to me, but you surely didn’t talk.”

Lin felt the blue eyes looking at her, but didn’t budge. “You are kidding, right? What’s the difference?” Her voice sharp.

After Kya didn’t seem to have an answer, Lin continued. “Well I can’t seem to get it right either way, can I?” Her voice had gained forcefulness and she got up to go to the bedroom.

She froze as she heard Kya’s accusing tone, “Don’t you dare and run away again.”

You’re one to talk, Lin thought, still not facing Kya. “Well, I will not sit here and get told that I’m not really talking, when you can’t even tell me what you mean by that.”

“Oh, get a grip.”, Kya snorted, crossing her arms.

Lin finally swirled around. That was too far. “I’m trying to do that. If I had stayed earlier, I would have hurt you. Is that what you want?”

“Please, you wouldn’t have hurt me.” The dismissiveness in Kya's voice made it hard for Lin not to take the comment as a challenge.

“How can you be so sure of that?”

Kya felt the heat boiling up inside her. “I’m not and that’s the problem. If you run off mid-conversation, how can I know what you’re feeling?”

“I didn’t want to lash out,” Lin hissed before taking a deep breath, trying to calm down.

“Well, then I would have at least known what you felt.”

“What is it with you? Do you want me to scream at you? Because that is what would have happened.”

“Save your ‘would’. Scream all you want, but I need you to act.”

The harder Lin tried to  shut her out, the harder Kya felt herself push.

“You shoving down your feelings, you not reacting honestly – that’s the fucking problem. Talking doesn’t do shit if you don’t let out the feelings.”

Who does this woman think she is? “You want action? Fine.” Lin slowly stepped closer, raising her voice. “I’m angry and I’m hurt and confused and I don’t know what to do with that, other than hurt people.”

“So you push them away with your walls. Fuck that! Easy way out.”

“I. Don’t want to. Hurt you. How is that a bad thing?” Was Kya even listening to her?

Kya started pointing at Lin. “You are scared of something else and you use that shit as an excuse not to deal with it. I know you!”

Did she? “Well maybe I don’t feel worthy!”

Her breakthrough was accompanied by a fist slamming on the table.

Kya didn’t flinch. There it is, she thought. Lin seemed surprised at her own revelation.

“Of what, exactly, aren’t you worthy?”

Lin swung her arm around, trying to find the words. “All of this. You, bothering. You, asking and pushing. Your love even.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lin. Everyone deserves love.”

“Not me. Not, if you asked anyone else.”

“Bullshit!” Kya exclaimed.

Lin growled in frustration before asking, ”Why are you like this? That isn’t fair. I already have a hard time saying that aloud.”

“I know, I see that. I have, for the past week. Build your walls all you want, but not inside this house! You can’t shut me out like the rest of them.”

“Maybe I'm not touchy-feely enough for that, not soft enough. I don’t want to disappoint you. I process stuff like this on my own. Then what if you realize that I’m not the talking-kind after all and you leave – like you did in the dream? I’m afraid of losing you and you don’t have to mock me for it.”

Kya swallowed as tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m not mocking you. I do want to make you feel better. However, I will not repress my needs in return. I tried that and seeing us argue right now, it wasn’t a smart choice. And we both deserve for this to work.”

Lin felt her cheeks flush bright red as she couldn’t object. They agreed. Somehow, they both knew.

“Well I don’t know what else you want me to say,” Lin settled defensively, ”I don’t have more. I’m not holding back or whatever you think it is that I’m doing.”

Kya let the tears stream down her cheeks. “Great,” she said, angrily wiping them away.

“Great,” Lin repeated holding her gaze while Kya brought herself to speak again, attempting not to let her voice break halfway through the sentence, “Are we done arguing or is there anything else you want to get off your chest?”

“I am done,” Lin emphasized, pressing at the bridge of her nose.

“Good, cause I’m tired.”

“Then get ready for bed. I’ll do the dishes.”

The argument had ended in the same harsh tone that had dominated throughout, yet the anger was fading quickly; much like the heavy blanket, Lin noticed as she picked up their plates. Like some kind of fog had cleared.

Kya ran a shower, while Lin scrubbed the dishes cleaner than she had ever seen them.

Her breathing was still heavier than usual and she felt her fingers tremble almost dropping a spoon. When she had cleaned the sink and Kya opened the door to their bedroom, Lin switched all the lights off.

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

Lin’s face was still cold from the water when she came back from the bathroom.

“You just gonna stand there?” Kya asked. Her voice soft again. The fight – if they could even call it that – felt like it had been hours ago and all that was left as Lin slipped under the blanket was exhaustion.

They lay in bed, facing the ceiling. After a few moments Lin reached out to find Kya’s hand.

“I love you,” she whispered. Kya knew.

“I love you, too,” Kya answered. Lin knew.

Lin drew her in for a kiss and felt Kya’s face relax. “I’m making breakfast tomorrow.”

“I can live with that,” Kya smiled.

[darker-soft-starker]

This, too

For my actual ride or die @starkerforlife6969, who constantly wows me with their talent and beautiful heart, i luh ya xo xo 

TW: mental health issues, angst, hurt/comfort, a mention of Skip Westcott

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

Peter dreams. 

Nightmares, most prominently - drifting dust and ash and the crush of cement against the curve of his spine. Often he dreams in flashes of mundane panic, that he’s late for work or he just missed the train. Sometimes the dreams are good, doorways into pockets of time, echoes of memories that feel as real as all his waking moments.

That night he dreams of dinner with May and Ben, except he’s not fourteen like he was when they were all together last, he’s himself now. It’s warm, bright, hazy in that way that dreams are. Tony is there too and they love him. Ben is laughing, all husky straight from the chest as May is recalling a memory of one of her misadventures in college, throwing her head back as she loses her cool and guffaws. She wipes a tear from her eye as she dwindles into soft giggles, looking over at Ben in shared reminiscence. Peter laughs along and catches Tony’s fond expression aimed just at him. 

It’s real, it feels so real. Until the shrill tones of his alarm wakes him up.

Sometimes good dreams are the worst ones.

Like blinking back into reality after one of Beck’s illusions when Peter wakes up he feels every pinch of warmth extinguish to a gritty, cold ash. The memories crumble, slipping away like hands trying to keep water cupped between them. Blinking slowly against the cool morning light, reality settles around him like sediments sinking heavily all over his body. 

It’s like someone scooped out everything inside of him - the call to feel anything results in a mournful echo.

He blinks once, twice. 

Oh, it's one of those days, he thinks.

Huh.

In sluggish, forced movement he takes his phone from the bedside table and silences his alarm. It's sixteen minutes past seven in the morning. He’s an early riser and should have been up already. Showered. In the kitchen. Flicking through social media as breakfast is cooking or coffee cooling or kissing Tony goodbye before the office beckons him away.

Except the impetus to get out of the bed isn’t exactly there. Outside of the bed is everything too big and too loud, even if he didn’t feel so heavy, all of his insides are grey, concrete and congealed, he feels like he would shatter at the slightest touch.

He blinks once. Twice.

The other side of the bed is empty and there is a message bright on his screen.

Had to leave for the office early, won’t be home until late - love you - you at work yet?

Fingers slow, Peter types a response, swallows around the lump in his throat.

Have a headache, stayed home. Love you.

He deletes that. Tries again.

Yeah, omw. Have a good day - love u.

It��s not right to make Tony worry.

He should get up. Piss. Shave. Wash. Eat. Not lie to his partner.

Except, he knows Tony would call. Would want to come home. Would try and shift him out of that concrete casing that presses down all over him and renders him immobile - and Peter just can’t. The thing about days like these is that there is plenty of should-do’s and want-to-do’s but on days like these desire is a foreign notion, incentive doesn’t go here and it means he does nothing. Which only further proves his own uselessness.

So he won’t say anything. He would do anything to protect Tony - even from Peter himself.

Besides, he doesn't want to talk through the saliva in his mouth feels like glue, doesn't know how to, even if he wanted to work through his molasses-like thoughts. He knows Tony wouldn’t mind - but Peter can’t let him see him like this, he has enough to deal with.

Tony is a good man.

Peter isn’t.

He thinks sometimes he believes that he is - good that is. Sometimes he knows that he is - but often the conditioned therapy speak can’t convince him that his guilt isn’t valid, that all his efforts at goodness aren’t just a way to bleach away all of the bad things he is responsible for, that for all his goodness he is just inherently, irrevocably bad.

Rhyme and reason is a joke - why the nothingness takes his breath today of all days, hitting like he’s hog-tied and dumped into the bottom of the ocean. It's not a birthday or an anniversary. It's not a day of any significance, so the inertia that swallows him is baseless - but then again, isn’t it always? Maybe the residue has been accumulating while he's been making quips and jokes because - but what excuse does he have for it, does he ever have for it?

His throat sticks when he swallows dryly and he idly considers leaving the safe haven of the creased bedsheets to get some water. 

Some time later, a minute, an hour, he makes himself go to the bathroom to relieve himself. He doesn't shower or wash his face. He doesn't even remember if he washed his hands. He doesn't get a drink of water.

The bed becomes an island.

Their mattress is too fancy to leave an indent where he normally sleeps but Peter imagines it’s there anyway, a divot to safely rest the contours of his body like a cradle. A safe place for his thoughts to circle, passing from one to another like a slideshow, deliberating, ruminating, around and around like the view-master he had as a kid. Laughably he tries not to focus on it, let it sweep by, but all it does is make the thoughts whirl into a dizzying kaleidoscope.

The laptop on the desk at the far wall shines all chrome and sleek lines, Peter wonders what it would take to fire it up, Netflix his listlessness away. Even his short-circuiting thoughts decide against it.

More than anything the pressure on his chest wants nothing more to ease to the sound of Tony’s voice.

He just --

Sometimes Peter tries to rationalize the entropy of the universe. By thinking every person and force is like a game of chess, energy in and out, everything has a purpose for good or bad, it gets him by. Sooner or later, surely, anything has a meaning or a lesson worth learning.

But then his core is stripped bare on days like today and Peter thinks of his parents and Ben and Natasha and everyone else who is never coming back and thinks this philosophy is wrong. There is no rhyme or reason on a greater scale for permanently blacking out an untold story. There is no greater lesson to be found in a life culled before its time.

The universe isn't playing chess. It's playing darts in the dark.

Focus.

This isn't him, this helplessness. Most days he doesn't feel like this at all, sees the shine on the horizon and the sun through the leaves – and then... some days, in private, his proverbial ability to clot fails and he bleeds out. His bad day isn't a stubbed toe, a missed train and a burnt dinner. His bad day is quicksand, stasis he can’t wake from and completely withdraws from reality - bad days are Ben’s last look of disappointment on replay and the burn of Skip Westcotts’ touch and an aching void where everything used to be.

He doesn’t open up his laptop but he does bring up Instagram on his phone and scrolls through the glossy highlight reels of everyone else's life. 

He must fall asleep because the next thing he knows is a hand is brushing over his forehead, fingers tenderly carding through his curls.

When he blinks his eyes open Tony is sitting beside him. He’s fully dressed, face creased in concern.

“Thought you were at work, baby,” Tony says softly. “You feeling okay?”

Tony’s watch is before his face, reading noon. Far earlier than Peter thought to have himself dressed and behaving with some semblance of normality. 

“M’fine. I didn’t expect you back so early,” Peter mumbles, cheeks going pink.

The response prompts a frown from the older man, the stroking against his scalps slowing as his partner assesses him. 

Shame burns hot in Peters gut when he sees something akin to understanding flashes briefly in Tony’s eyes. Jaw clenching, Peter slams his eyes shut and exhales. Jesus, fuck this isn’t what Tony should have to put up with --

“Hey, s’okay. What’s wrong?”

Peter contemplates his age old story, what he used to tell May and his teachers when the door outside his bedroom seemed too dark a labyrinth to go near. I have a headache. I think I'm getting the flu. Allergy season is sure starting early this year. But the words get tangled in his throat and it's inevitably easier to just say nothing. He can't think of a lie quick enough to replace the excuses in his head.

There's a thumb caressing his cheek, resting at the side of his mouth.

There's a blink-and-you'll-miss spring of resentment in his stomach because he doesn't want to explain at the same time that he does and all of the thoughts bottleneck in his head - like should he act normal? How should he behave, what should he talk about, what will Tony want to talk about, is Peter going to be convincing enough, how far does the truth really stretch - how dirty will Peter feel lying to him -

Every thought stalls like a traffic jam in his head.

Overwhelmed, Peter brings a hand over his eyes and exhales frustratedly.

“I’m sorry,” he manages.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Tony whispers softly from behind him, sheets rustling as he inches closer. “You’re alright, I’ve got you.” 

He doesn’t know how to answer, chest cracking open as the noise in his head reaches an unbearable crescendo. 

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

Peter nods, unable to speak around the lump in his throat. 

Tony crawls into bed with him, discarding his jacket, shoes and belt onto the floor. The cotton of his shirt feels nice against Peter’s face when he curls up and leans his head on Tony’s chest, but he undoes a few buttons to slip his hand inside anyway, just to feel something real and living.

This isn’t what Tony came home expecting, it shouldn’t be his job to look after Peter, shouldn’t have to tolerate this. Peter should do better. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, the ache in his chest getting worse with each passing second.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Tony dismisses, stroking Peter’s hair. “I’ve got you, baby, you’re okay. You want to talk about it?”

The arms tighten around Peter like maybe it could hold him together as he gives a sedate shake of his head.

“That’s okay.” A kiss to his hair. “I love you very much.”

“You too,” Peter murmurs, eyes closing in a mix of guilt and relief.

Another apology rises in his throat but he swallows it down, sinking into Tony’s comforting embrace, listening to this rich tones of the older man's voice telling him it will be okay, how strong he is, how it will pass soon.

Peter loves Tony enough not to argue.

It’s enough.

[underatedcharactersunite]

A Tale of Two Souls Part 3; Playing the Part

Summary; As you, Jaskier and Geralt continue to travel together, bonds get created while others are tested. Especially when you find yourself in a predicament when Jaskier's life appears to be in imminent danger.  Pairing; Jaskier x Female Reader  WordCount; 3659   Warnings; Angst, fluff, sexual innuendos, strong language   Taglist; @lilyevans1​ Read Part 2 Here

Series Masterlist 

A couple of days had gone by since you unveiled to Jaskier your authentic identity. Despite Jaskier appearing to be indifferent from everything, you were convinced that he must possess some inquiries. 

Regardless of the queries, Jaskier proceeded to walk ahead of you and everything was satisfactory with the world once more. While the three of them travelled along winding roads and treacherous paths, you observed Jaskier. Jaskier being abnormally quiet unsettled you. Over the past several days, you had come to understand that Jaskier rejected the quiet. He preferred to engage in conversation or composing a new song. 

Adjacent to the quiet behaviour, Jaskier walked appeared to be uneven as a distinctive limp had replaced his confident strut. Before the three of you proceeded on your journey, you had been unable to mend Jaskier's shoes. In the hopes that you would be able to purchase a pair of boots fit for travelling for Jaskier, the three of you progressed toward approaching a town that you and Geralt had frequented previously. 

"Jaskier perhaps you should take a break for a while? You've been wandering for miles now, surely your feet ache."

"Thank you, my sweet Y/N. I shall have to reject your offer, as my feet feel perfectly fine. I would never say no to your company if you are offering it."

"Do not try to fool her Bard. Y/N knows you're experiencing some description of pain." Geralt explained as he continued to ride on Roach. Travelling with Geralt for many years had enabled you to become an expert in dealing with headstrong men.

On the other hand, you had specifically been in Jaskier's situation already. Entering an already existing dynamic where everyone had their place and their roles, Jaskier wanted to emerge as an influential and responsible human, who did not have to rely on anyone. 

Comprehending well enough how to play the stubborn man's game, you bounded down from Tarot relocating her reigns over her head. Jaskier came to a halt as you joined up with him, the closer you neared him, the further you realised how dier his current shoe situation was. The boots upon his feet were starting to fall apart. The once expensive boots were now battered from the rough journey.

You had to do something. Observing the current state of Jaskier's boots, you could visualise the current state of his own feet inside of the boots. Being surrounded by nothing but mountains and trees, there was one option that you knew would not be favoured by your longtime travelling companion.  

"Jaskier, will you allow me to take a glimpse at your boots. I might have missed something last night when I was taking a glance at them."

"I've already told you my sweet I am not in any variety of distress. Although if you think you might be able to fix them, who am I to say no to such a beautiful angel such as yourself." 

Jaskier took a seat on the nearby Rock, removing his boots once he was comfortable. Just as you suspected, Jaskier's feet were blistered and cut up from the long and tiring journey the three of you had encountered so far. Crouching you hovered your hands over Jaskier's feet rather than his boots. 

"Y/N, we have spoken about this! Do not do what I think you're about to do!"

"What is he talking about? What are you doing?" Geralt's pleads were met on deaf ears as you had already begun to mutter the simple healing spell. As power resonated from your hands, Jaskier's feet began to heal. Using any variety of magic came at a price. You learned pretty swiftly that the cost of healing someone was an infliction onto your body.  You had healed Geralt several times before he discovered you had been doing. From that moment onwards, the two of you had agreed that magic would not be used to heal one another again. 

Blood began to soak through your undershirt as you continued to mutter the healing spell repeatedly. Throughout travelling with Geralt, you had seen much bloodshed, a lot of it being Geralt' own and each time it distressed you to witness someone you cared about experiencing unnecessary pain. 

"Sweet love, you are bleeding. My sweet, stop! Y/N stop!" Jaskier's words brought you out of your trace alongside the firm grasp taking hold of your opposite arm. Tugging you away from Jaskier, you were forced to look at a visibly angry Geralt. With his frown eyebrows, his jaw locked and his eyes wild like a group of wild stations. 

"What did we fucking agree on? You promised me that you would not do this again! Not to me and certainly not to the fucking Bard we met only days ago. What was one of the rules we agreed on long ago."

"Answer me!" Geralt yelled, seeing him this enraged made guilt seep into your skin like water in a sponge. Trying to help Jaskier had resulted in agitating Geralt.

"That I do not use my healing spell. We also do not break promises to each other."

"Did we not just have a similar conversation only days ago about putting ourselves in harm's way when it's not needed. You have done precisely that! Fixing the Bard has prompted you to be injured yourself. What good has that done? Let me see." You were not going to argue with Geralt, seeing him this irate was only provoked by more profound emotions that Geralt declined to admit to. Slipping your arm out of the sleeve and into the head hole of your undershirt, the true extent of your wounds arose to light. It was certainly worse than you imagined than your predicted outcome. 

"Shit!" Geralt backed towards Roach rummaging through his saddlesack for something. When Jaskier rose from his seat on the rock, taking hold of your wounded arm much more delicately than Geralt had held of your arm previously. 

"Y/N, what did you just do?" 

"I performed a basic healing spell. As all magic comes with a price, to heal someone, you have to take an injury onto yourself. I made a promise to Geralt a long time ago that I would never use it again."  

"Why would you do that for me? Especially if you and Geralt made a promise. My enchanting Y/N, I would have managed until we reached the next town."

"Did you not hear what I told you earlier? I told you she recognised you were encountering some sort of pain. Once again, someone did not listen to me." 

"Geralt, it was not his fault. I decided to use the healing spell, not Jaskier. You have every right to be furious at me, but leave Jaskier out of this. He was not knowledgeable that I was able to feel his anguish. Besides, I would have done the same for you as I have done countless times." Geralt declined to speak as he ripped one of his old shirts in half to create a bandage as he began to strap your arm up with the fabric. As you observed him intently, you laid your hand on top of his.

"I am sorry. I should have never broken the promise that we made to each other a long time ago, old friend. I hate when you speak to me less so even more usual. You surely would not leave one of your dearest friends purely to Jaskier's company now, would you?" Everything appeared silenced around you as Geralt finished patching up your injury in complete silence. The moment seemed to slow down as you hoped that would be enough for Geralt to forgive you for being so foolish.

“Hey”

"I will not lose you. Not now, not ever." 

"As I refuse to lose you, old friend. Jaskier until we reach the town you will be riding with me. That way, I will not feel tempted to comfort Jaskier's pain. By doing so, it will also put your mind at rest." 

"Do I get to add a little bargaining chip into this solution? Since I am utterly confused by this situation, will you, my beauty inform me what on earth just happened?" 

"Would I ever leave you in the dark, Jaskier?" Exchanging a glance towards Geralt, the two of you told each other exactly what the two of you needed to say. Being on the road with someone for an extended time was completed. Over vast years, people learn to depend on one another terrified that one day the other might not be around. Mounting Tarot once more, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, Jaskier's nose nuzzling into your neck.

"I should have informed you that I can recognise when someone's in pain. After seeing my Mother torture and kill people for so long, I assume I learnt to tune into it. The more the person is suffering, the more I feel. It also aids that I have a personal connection with you." 

"That explains why you responded before you thought about it. Just so you know I never desire you to endure any kind of pain because of me. Will you tell me a story? Your voice is the most soothing melody I have ever heard.""That explains why you responded before you thought about it. Just so you know I never desire you to endure any kind of pain because of me. Will you tell me a story? Your voice is the most soothing melody I have ever heard."

"I and Geralt have experienced untold stories collectively, so it should not be exceedingly difficult. What variety of story are you in the mood for?" 

"Well so far, I've only heard one's that have caused you physical and emotional agony, I don't reckon you have anything happier."

"There is the story of myself and Geralt, encountering an extroverted flirtatious bard, who has already been injured three times in the short time he's been travelling with us. That's rather joyous so far."

"There's no obligation to tell that story my sweet because I can guarantee you there many wonderful ballads composed narrating stories of our encounters together."

"There was the time where I accidentally shot Geralt with a bow." 

"Really? Do tell." 

"In the early days of our companionship, Geralt began to teach me how to use the skill of combat rather than relying on my powers for everything. I was keen and determined to learn since at the time, I was far from confident in who I was. With my determination at the highest peak anytime we were not on the road or training, I had a bow and arrow in hand practising. One morning, Geralt had gone to a nearby stream to bathe, so I took the time to get practising. I did not realise that I had picked a tree in the same direction that Geralt would come back.As Geralt returned, I just happened to shoot at the same time...needless to say, I did not hit the target I was aiming for." 

"You shot me in the arm."

"Indeed I also believe you caught me out in regards to the healing spell also. I've also never missed a shot since then. I believe I am too horrified to shoot Geralt." 

"I learnt to linger out of the way while you were training. In the initial days, you were lousy in combat. Now, I would not prefer to have anyone by my side." 

"I'm glad old friend because you're certainly stuck with me for the foreseeable future." 

Arriving in two, you, Geralt and Jaskier made a plan to split up to complete a series of chores that demanded to be completed before the night anchored in. Geralt departed to seek refuge and a room to sleep for the night, while you and Jaskier travelled towards the market to see if you could locate anything that was on your list. 

The market was a busy and vibrant place. Market stall owners yelled their daily offers trying to get their potential customers attention. Chatter filled among the other patrons as they attempted to achieve their reasons for attending the market. 

Being familiar with the marketplace, you were able to negotiate through the crowded place. Familiar faces greeted you with a smile and a wave or a brief nod, wondering if you had brought the Witcher with you. 

As the ageing shoemaker welcomed you and directly brought you into an extensive conversation about the details of your request, Jaskier strolled around the stall looking at the different variations of shoes and boots that the shoemaker created. 

As the ageing shoemaker welcomed you and directly brought you into an extensive conversation about the details of your request, Jaskier strolled around the stall looking at the different variations of shoes and boots that the shoemaker produced. Completely engaged in the conversation with the shoemaker, you had failed to witness the Lord approaching Jaskier with determination and rage in his step. 

Lord Huntington was a respectable man amongst these parts. A man appreciated for his philanthropy and devotion to supporting those in need. Despite a man of great wealth, he cared so little for it and aspired to be charitable as frequently as he could. Nevertheless, Lord Huntington's kindness was not to be received lightly. Lord Huntington was a man who had a foul temper when challenged he deemed dear to his heart, the likes of those involved his charity work, his restoration projects and his beloved wife. 

"I thought it was you as I saw your spindly frame in the distance! You're the Bard that I caught sleeping with my wife!" 

"I do not believe we have met, but I can assure you I have not slept with your wife." 

"Don't get smart with me boy, I might be growing old as my greying hair suggests, but I will not be mistaken for a fool. It was you who I witnessed coming out of my wife and I's shared chambers that night! By right I should remove your balls!"

Lord Huntington had listened to enough. He was well aware of the experience, and the expertise Bard's had for being deceitful. This one was no different. Grabbing ahold of Jaskier violently, Lord Huntington was determined to get Jaskier back to him so he could punish him accordingly. 

"I have told you I have no idea what you're referring to!"

"Liar!"

"Why would I sleep with your wife....when I have my own?"

"You have a wife?" 

"Yes, she is right over there, currently purchasing some new boots for me. She is the most incredible, intoxicating, mesmerising woman in the entire world, most of my songs that you will hear are referencing her and only her. I can introduce you to her if you like." Lord Huntington's mouth hung open as he examined Jaskier's reaction. Moments before, Jaskier appeared to have gone pale as he confronted him, but the moment he mentioned his wife, the colour began to emerge into his cheeks once more. 

"You could pick any one woman in this market and claim she's your wife!"

"I will prove it to you. Y/N, my beautiful enchantress, keeper of the key to my heart and my darling wife." Hearing Jaskier call out to you, brought you out of your conversation with the shoemaker, leaving you with a muddled confusion at what you thought you had just heard. 

"What did you just call me?" 

"Look at you always messing around. My wife does have an impeccable sense of humour." Jaskier travelled through a small group of people that gathered in the small area. Enveloping you in his arms, flush against his chest, Jaskier nudged his nose with yours. 

"It would have been nice to be invited to our wedding, so tell me what did you do to piss Lord Huntington off?" 

"I might have spent many nights making sweet love to his wife." While Lord Huntington struggled to get through the crowd that was getting larger as the sun reached it's the highest point in the sky. You nuzzled your nose with Jaskiers, hoping that if Lord Huntington could see you through the crowd, it was a convincing act. 

"Now he's threatening to kill you." 

"No! Much worse, he's threatening to make me a Eunuch. I love having all of my body parts be at a full-functioning level...Please Y/N, I'll do anything, I'll be forever in your debt. I'll even show you how well my body parts work if you like." 

"Jaskier, do you think it's the perfect opportunity to flirt with me at this moment?" 

"My timing has been better." 

"He's coming this way, we need to act natural."  Lord Huntington forced his way over to the two of you with determination echoing his every step. He desired you to prove him right, that you were a cover story, to protect Jaskier's life. Despite being a man of brilliance, Lord Huntington was undoubtedly about to underestimate the connection that you and Jaskier held for another. 

"Y/N? When the Bard spoke of having a wife, I never considered it would you. Which is why I bring this news with great sadness, your husband has been sneaking off with my wife." 

"I have informed you Lord Huntington that I would never deceive this beautiful woman I have the honour of calling my wife." 

"Horseshit."

"Gentleman, please. Lord Huntington, I'm afraid you must be mistaken. My husband is as loyal to me as I am to him. I know he achieved a reputation for his promiscuity and bed-hopping, but I assure you, Jaskier ended that an extended time ago." 

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I do not believe this claim for one second." You were losing patience with Lord Huntington. Was your word not enough? There had been far too many occasions where you and Geralt had saved the town from threats that often occurred nearby or surrounding. 

"After everything, I and Geralt have done to ensure your safety, you dare have the nerve to accuse me of lying to you."

"Y/N, we've been acquaintances for many years. I do not believe your heart could belong to such a scoundrel and an adulterer." 

"Lord Huntington, no one tells me who I decide to fall in love with, who I consider my family, my passions, my interests, so I suggest that while you may dislike my husband from his reputation you at least respect our decision to be together."  

"Very well, I cannot argue with that...Please just keep him away from my wife, if I intercept him again Y/N, it will not be without punishment." Lord Huntington left without another word. Leaving you to deal with the shoemaker who had already prepared Jaskier's new boots for you, with Jaskier's track record it appeared inconceivable that the three of you would be able to linger in town for very long. At least the three of you would be able to spend the night here. 

"Come, we still have a lot to do before it gets dark." You and Jaskier remained placid for a while. You were adamant on locating everything you required just-in-case the three of you had to flee promptly.

"You know you have not spoken a word to me since Lord Huntington left our presence." Jaskier's comment rested on your eyes while you paid for some fresh herbs you required for your ailments, shifting your head slightly to look back at him you shrugged. 

"It is not only me who's been quiet." 

"Fair play...I want you to be aware that everything I said to Lord Huntington earlier was accurate. I do believe you are the most intoxicating, incredibly mesmerising person I have ever encountered. We may have known each other for a few days, but there is a section of my heart that already belongs to you." 

"I do not know how or why?" 

"I am told I am a man of surprises, come on perhaps it's best we find Geralt. Hopefully, we will have a warm bed for the night." Following Jaskier's lead, through the crowded marketplace, up until the little Tavern that stood proudly on the hill. The day had been long and tiresome, and you desired nothing more than a warm meal and a bed for the night. 

*****

"I've got good news and bad news." "Well, what's the good news," Jaskier questioned as the two of you took a seat in the booth in which Geralt had been brooding over.

"Lord Huntington has work for us to complete."

"It is not for Jaskier's crown jewels, is it?" 

“What?” 

"Nevermind. Perhaps it's a tale for later when we're away from this place. What is Lord Huntington's issue this time?" 

"A Griffin? Like a part Eagle, part lion."

"Exactly. Griffin's typically do not come this close to a town, so what is it doing?" 

“"It appears revenge. Lord Huntington gathered several of his men to kill its mate. Griffin's mate for life and without its partner it could have travelled down following the trace until it found this place." 

"So that's the good news, what's the bad news?"

"There's only one room left available, with only two beds." 

"You two can take the bed's, and I'll take the floor. I have no problem with it." The three of you then began to dispute who would achieve a restful night's sleep while the other slept on the floor. No one was getting anywhere, each one offering to sleep on the floor. 

"There's an easy way to settle it, Geralt will take one bed, and I and you will share the other."  At that moment, you realised that your day filled with odd and peculiar moments was about to continue. Firstly, you had been Jaskier's wife, and now you were suddenly about to share a bed with him. 

This was about to be interesting.... 

[hellzyeahwebwielingessays]

The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 5: The Return of Mysterio

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We finish off our coverage of Mysterio’s history by bringing us up to date. We will also be covering more MJ centric events as we set up for AMJ #1.

Welcome to the 2010s!

Beck’s Back Baby!

Marvel truly brought the original Mysterio back in early 2010 as part of the overarching ‘Gauntlet’ event running through Brand New Day. However, later retcons from the ‘Spider-Men’ mini-series revealed he’d actually been back even earlier than that. He simply opted to concentrate his efforts on Earth 1610/the Ultimate Universe.

Because I do not want to go through the agony of refreshing my memory of BND or Slott’s run I shall instead simply take note of one significant event Mysterio participated in during the latter.

In the ‘Ends of the Earth’ arc (ASM #682-687) Mysterio was knowingly complicit in Doc Ock’s scheme to seemingly fix global warming. In reality it was the dying doctor’s goal to mass murder half the planet so that he’d be immortalized in the minds of the survivors as worse than Hitler.

Long story short, Otto planned to use space tech to manipulate the sun’s rays and direct them at whatever areas of the Earth he chose. In effect he could heat up or cool down whatever areas of the planet he wished.

It all kicked off in ASM #682 when Otto used his weapon to target half the world and heat it up. Known areas affected included New York City, Illinois, Rio De Janeiro and Ontario. The art depicts animals suffering or dying along with masses of people enduring severe pain and with some passing out; presumably from serious heat stroke.

Ock claimed this was merely a demonstration of what the real life effects of global warming would be. His intent was merely to shock people into accepting his solution of using this same technology to resolve the climate crisis. However, even if he were sincere (which he absolutely wasn’t) he still would’ve caused a lot of unnecessary harm to up to 3.5 billion people and many more animals and wildlife.

Sure, this is all Ock’s scheme and none of the Sinister Six seemed to know his true intent. But his initial demonstration was still sadistic and harmful even if no one died (which is frankly contrived and ridiculous). Mysterio still went along with it, and as ASM #684-685 proved it was for purely selfish reasons. As payment for ending global warming Otto wanted to have the Sinister Six’s criminal records expunged and $2 billion paid to each of them.

Granted later (for equally selfish reasons) Beck switched sides. But that still demonstrates what a bad person he ultimately was.

The thing to bear in mind is that this was all highly public. EVERYONE on Earth knew about this and MJ was depicted on panel as a witness among the billions of onlookers. So she knows Mysterio only helped save the world out of selfishness and was willing to harm billions of people out of similar selfishness.

Invasion>Attention>Reconciliation?

One last time skip brings us to the home stretch; Nick Spencer’s run on ASM.

In the first issue of Spencer’s run we learn that Mysterio has fabricated a highly believable alien invasion (chiefly utilizing practical effects) at the heart of town.

Daredevil, the Avengers and the Guardians of the Galaxy are among the heroes who’ve assembled to deal with the crisis. Beck’s effects are so convincing that he has all of them fooled and thus unable to resolve the situation. That’s pretty impressive when you consider that between them they’ve got immense intelligence, scanning technology and hyper senses.

This is yet further proof of just how skilful a trickster Mysterio is.

Peter defeats Beck but almost dies in the attempt.

Prompted by his experiences that night and by Mysterio’s own words, Peter sought out MJ.

Upon finding her he relayed (without specifying details) how he almost died earlier and how this put things into perspective for him. The end result of their talk is that he and MJ finally reconcile.

In the last instalment I spoke about how Peter clearly keeps MJ abreast of most of his super heroics; or at least did when they were married.

Let’s bear that in mind as we consider this specific situation

After years of separation and false starts at reconciliation, the magic has finally been rekindled between them.

It happened the very same night as, and in direct response to, an event involving Mysterio.

An event we already know Peter mentioned to MJ without specifying details.

An event that involved a deliberately public staging of an alien invasion at the heart of Manhattan! An invasion that involved the Avengers no less! And one of whom (Iron Man) MJ worked for until very recently.

Whether that night or soon thereafter it is extremely likely Mary Jane would’ve learned that Mysterio was behind the event in question.

Peter would’ve told her. It beguiles beliefs that he would’ve done otherwise. In the seminal ‘Kraven’s Last Hunt’ storyline Peter was completely missing for two weeks, buried alive by Kraven the Hunter. Within hours of crawling out of the ground Peter reunited with Mary Jane and the dialogue clearly conveys that he informed her what happened off-panel.

Furthermore, in the one shot ‘Soul of the Hunter’ Peter deals with some of the aftermath from ‘Kraven’s Last Hunt’. Specifically he believes he has seen Kraven the Hunter’s ghost. After this encounter Peter’s told MJ what happened, further proving my point. However, his dialogue also implies he regularly confides in her or feels obliged to be honest with her.

Additionally, as discussed last time, off-panel he obviously must’ve told MJ that he confirmed Mysterio’s death.

For the sake of argument though let’s say Peter didn’t elaborate. That being the case, then Mary Jane would’ve likely asked for a little more information.

Peter’s nearly died countless times before and during their separation. But on this specific occasion he was prompted to seek her out. Why? What was so special about this time?

Let’s remember MJ has studied psychology and worked as an actress, both of which entail a healthy dose of inquisitiveness.*

She also has a knack for getting in Peter’s head. This fact was stated and demonstrated as far back as Spec #85 (if not earlier).

Another example of this skill can be found in the ‘Soul of the Hunter’ one shot. In this story MJ recognizes Peter’s guilt and trauma over what Kraven did to him and the hunter’s consequent suicide.

In her younger days MJ also had a curiosity regarding Peter after she initially learned he was Spider-Man. In Untold Tales of Spider-Man #16 displayed this acutely, depicting MJ even following Spidey on one of his adventures.

More poignantly let’s put ourselves in MJ’s shoes for the moment.

The love of your life just randomly showed up at your home, proclaimed they nearly died and now wants to get back together after years apart.

Wouldn’t you  want some more details? Wouldn’t scepticism or basic curiosity or concern lead you to discover more?

But let’s severely stretch the suspensions of disbelief. Let’s say that at no point did she nor Peter talk about what led to their reconciliation. Even accepting that, surely Mary Jane would’ve heard about Mysterio’s involvement.

Super powered people are hot news in general. Peter for example was able to reliably make money from selling Spider-Man photos for years. In Mysterio’s case, he was one of the few costumed criminals who actively designed his look and schemes to be attention grabbing. It was pivotal to his plan back in ASM #13 and his entire life has been built around a desire to put on a show and be centre stage.

More importantly, the sheer scale of his crime and the number of heroes involved in combatting it (which included ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’) would’ve been serious news. It would’ve been covered by pretty much any news service Mary Jane cared to consult. That’s not even mentioning just general conversation occurring around MJ during her daily routine.

Basically osmosis would ensure MJ learned of Mysterio’s involvement.

That’d be especially true considering he is a villain she, her lover, her friends and her family have had direct dealings with. If it were Moses Magnum she’d have still found out about it. But to say she would’ve remained in the dark when it was specifically one of Peter’s enemies is ridiculous.

Within MJ’s memory Mysterio isn’t a villain who’d simply be lost in the sea of freaks and weirdos Peter combats. He’d stand out even among them due to various factors:

His duels with Spidey. Spider-Man has battled a lot of costumed villains but when you look at his history he doesn’t actually fight all that many repeatedly. The ones that he does amount to just over two-dozen. It basically amounts to most (but not all) of the villains introduced in the first 50 issues plus several few others, most notably Venom, Carnage, Hobgoblin and Jackal.

His bizarre appearance. Mysterio designed it specifically to be attention grabbing and even amongst Spidey’s regular rogues it’s the most baffling. He wears a fishbowl for a head!

His involvement acts of public terror. These include his TV message from ASM #66 and ‘Ends of the Earth’. The latter was probably the single most global scheme any of Peter’s villains have ever participated in and a highly publicised affair. In fact all six of the villains involved in that would realistically stand out in most anybody’s mind!

The regularity of his fights with Spidey. Mysterio isn’t the Big Wheel or the Hypno-Hustler. He’s one of just over two-dozen foes Peter regularly tangles with.

His personally targeting MJ and her loved ones. MJ was abducted by Mysterio (remember she didn’t know it was actually Berkhart) and lived a fake life as a result. One of MJ’s mother figures had her death faked by Mysterio, which broke the heart of her beloved Aunt Anna. The love of her life was framed by Mysterio early in his career and had his sense of sanity and confidence attacked by him, not to mention his workplace (see FNSM #12). If you wish to count it, Mysterio also faked the death of her ex-boyfriend and long time friend Harry Osborn.

His actions violent actions in ‘Guardian Devil’. Even if one argues MJ only knew what she heard on the news the extreme level of violence Mysterio engaged in was unusual for one of Peter’s foes. The Goblins or the symbiotes might do stuff like that, but most of Peter’s other foes aren’t nearly as bloody as Mysterio was in that story. In fact Mysterio himself hadn’t been prior to that so this would’ve been a surprise. As such this would very likely stick in MJ’s mind on some level.

His suicide. Arguably above anything else he’d done, Beck’s suicide would’ve made him stand out amongst Peter’s foes. Few of Peter’s major enemies have seemingly definitively died and only 3 could be said to have done so by taking their own lives. Considering how Mary Jane isn’t going to be forgetting Kraven in a hurry someone intentionally copying him is inevitably going to stick out to her.

All of which is to say that MJ isn’t going to lose track of who Beck is. She isn’t going to treat him as simply another costumed creep in a city chock full of them.

He might not stick out in her mind in the same ways (or to the same degree) as some of Peter’s other foes. But he’d definitely be among the foes that would stand out to her.

Heading for Hollywood

The fallout of Mysterio’s ‘invasion’ was chronicled in a back-up story in ASM v5 #1, wherein he stands trial. This further proves how serious and public his crime was. But it’s relevance lies in how it contextualizes Beck’s actions going into AMJ.

Mysterio is represented by lawyer Janice Lincoln (secretly a super villainess herself) who tries to get him a lighter sentence on the grounds of insanity.

Abruptly though, everyone (sans Beck) seemingly die as the courtroom is transformed into a nightmarish sight. Mysterio is then confronted by a powerful and demonic figure (eventually referred to as Kindred). 

Their consequent conversation heavily implies that following his suicide in ‘Guardian Devil’ Mysterio went to Hell, was recruited by Kindred and resurrected to fulfil a mission on his behalf (the specifics aren’t clarified).

This mission is part of a larger campaign against Spider-Man, whose secret identity both Kindred and Beck are aware of. In fact Beck’s staged alien invasion was intended to dispense with the collected heroes on Kindred’s behalf.

Kindred gave Mysterio one more chance and Beck suddenly found himself back in the courtroom as though nothing had happened. 

Convinced of his insanity he was sent to the Ravencroft institute for insane super villains, which is where we find him next in ASM v5 #24-25.

In these issues, we discover that Beck has manipulated his psychiatrist (Dr. Winhorst) into believing he is in fact Mysterio. At the same time Beck has readopted his guise and Dr. Rinehart. As Rinehart, Beck further manipulated Winhorst (dressed as Mysterio) into having a therapy session and nearly revealing Kindred’s real identity. This prompted Kindred to appear and murder Winhorst.

As Rinehart, Beck gave a statement to the police regarding ‘Mysterio’s’ death. This confirmed that the authorities had found a body and at least at that point in time believed it to be the real Mysterio. Since Beck has faked people’s deaths before (including his own) it is entirely plausible that he had the means to fool their methods of verifying the identity of the body. This would be the case even if the authorities used Marvel universe pseudoscience.

However the story never confirms if Mysterio’s death became public knowledge, the police may well have been keeping it quiet as they investigate further.

These are factors to bear in mind when we go forward.

Kindred catches up to Beck and reveals he is fully aware of the attempted deception. He chastises Beck for failing to fulfil his mission for him. Kindred admits though that had Beck done as he was asked he’d have been returned to Hell. 

Instead of punishing him though Kindred instead produces a film script Beck wrote. He suggests that in his remaining time alive Beck fulfil his life’s dream and make the film a reality. His rationale for this is that Beck’s goals align with his. 

Specifically that in giving Beck what he wants it will somehow deny something to someone else Kindred has a vendetta against. This leaves Beck confused.

In this same issue the new Electro takes an acquaintance of Mary Jane’s hostage and threatens to kill her on social media. Using her acting skills to deceive and distract Electro, Mary Jane manages to rescue her ‘friend’. Her social media performance is lauded and swiftly followed by her old agent contacting her and offering her a role in a new movie by a new writer/director, one who asked for her by name. This is of course Mysterio.

In ASM v5 #29 we see MJ rehearsing the script with Peter, as I mentioned earlier in this essay series. Something else to take note of though is that MJ and Peter mutually praise the script.

Anyway, as the issue proceeds Peter is divided about MJ’s departure. He wants her to be happy and pursue her career but also doesn’t want to lose her (again). Unfortunately Spider-Man business crops up causing him to miss her departure for L.A. There are no hard feelings and the couple are committed to maintaining a temporarily long-distance relationship. Nevertheless, this saddens Peter as we learn he was hoping to propose to Mary Jane.

I bring this issue up because it is not only directly continued in AMJ #1 but it provides potentially important context for our analysis of Beck moving forward.

Beck is making this movie for himself. However, he is fully aware his dangerous demonic overlord wants  him to and has a vendetta against Spider-Man; whom Beck also knows is Peter Parker.

Kindred claimed that by allowing Beck to make his movie he’d be denying someone something they want. It is extremely likely that this ‘someone’ is Peter and the ‘something’ being denied is Mary Jane. This is evidenced by Kindred’s portrayal up to this point coupled with the sadness MJ’s departure caused to Peter.

What is a little more debatable is if Mysterio personally wanted MJ in his movie or if he requested her presence on Kindred’s orders. There is no on panel evidence of the latter and Mysterio’s confusion in ASM v5 #25 implies he doesn’t understand how making the movie will help Kindred.

On the other hand Beck is not unintelligent so if he knows Pete is Spidey and that Kindred is targeting him then it’s unlikely he couldn’t deduce Kindred’s meaning. After all, its unlikely that Beck wouldn’t do a little homework and found out the man who famously took photos of Spider-Man also had a long romance with the actress/supermodel Mary Jane Watson.

Furthermore there seems to be little rationale as to why Beck would want Mary Jane in his movie other than due to her connection to Spider-Man. Her acting credits are small and wouldn’t be all that impressive in his eyes. This supports the idea that MJ’s inclusion in the movie was due to Kindred not Beck. Or perhaps her involvement was something Beck wanted but that was due to her connection with Spidey, making her a pawn in his scheme.

Regardless, Mysterio likely knows MJ’s involvement plays heavily into what Kindred wants, even if he hypothetically doesn’t know exactly how. This makes his insistence upon using her unethical and his lack of honesty dangerous to her and her loved ones.

That just about brings us up to speed on Mysterio. Now we’re ready to truly get into the meat of the matter starting with Amazing Mary Jane #1.

*It could be argued this is the rationale behind making her a journalist in other continuities such as the Ultimate Universe or the Gamerverse.

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[alexsfictionaddiction]

Alex Recommends: May and June Books

I must apologise for the late arrival of this post. It should have been up days ago but I’ve been struggling to read much for the last month or so. My head has been very foggy and dark with all of the confusion, anxiety and hate that has been filling my news feeds and I’ve been filled with a desire to combat it. Before this month, I’d have run in the opposite direction from any kind of confrontation but recent events have given me the kick up the butt to actively do better. I’ve been calling out bigotry when I come across it and I’ve noticed that some people, notably my older relatives, haven’t necessarily reacted favorably to the changed, more outspoken Alex. It has been pretty daunting and I’ve worked myself up into fits of rage and tears several times over the last couple of months.

A lot of things have changed for me since my last Alex Recommends post. I’m currently temporarily living in Staffordshire with my boyfriend because my depression got too bad for me to stay at home for much longer. I missed him unbelievably much and I knew that spending some prolonged time with him would help -and it has. Both him and I have spent 12 weeks religiously following all of the rules, so we’re both extremely low-risk for catching and spreading COVID-19 and being together was something that we simply really needed to do. Please don’t hate me for it! In other news, I have also started writing again, which feels amazing. I’m now a few thousand words into a queer Rapunzel retelling that I have lots of ideas for. Maybe I’ll even post an extract or two, when I feel it’s ready to show you.

In the centre of the renewed energy of Black Lives Matter and the undeniable exposure of the horrors that is police brutality, the book blogging and BookTube worlds vowed to uplift Black voices. I wrote a very long, in-depth blog post full of Black-written books and Black book influencers. Please check it out to diversify your TBR and educate yourself on Black issues, which is what every white person should be doing now and always.

June was Pride Month and I tried my best to compile a series of recommendation posts in honour of it. These included gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, non-binary, ace, pansexual and intersex lists. I’ve had some great feedback on this, so I hope you find some fantastic new reads. It felt especially poignant to put them together the same year that one of my childhood heroes came out as an ignorant trans-exclusive feminist. As a lifelong Harry Potter superfan and someone who has repeatedly publicly supported Rowling in the past, I feel the need to clarify where I now stand. I do not support or agree with a single thing that she has said in recent times with regard to transgender people. I’ve never felt my own status as a cisgender female threatened by trans people wanting more rights or believed that children or women were at risk due to their existence. 

I read her words more than once and struggled to find any semblance of the woman who wrote the books that have most defined my life. I’m hesitant to say that we can always successfully separate the art from the artist but I will say that it makes sense to me that the Rowling of 2020 is not the same Rowling that wrote Harry Potter. She was a destitute single mother when Philosopher’s Stone was published in 1997 and of course, she is now a million worlds away from that lifestyle. It breaks my heart but it makes sense to me that she has changed beyond belief because her life has changed beyond belief. I’m not and never would make any excuses for her recent behaviour and I have stopped supporting her personally but I will not be getting rid of my Harry Potter books and I will undoubtedly re-read them several more times. However, I am now hugely reluctant to buy any more merchandise or special editions of the books, which saddens me but at the moment, it feels right. There is no coming back for her from this and I will make a conscious effort to keep Harry Potter and Rowling away from my future content. It can be really tough to admit that the people you once really admired aren’t great humans but it’s something that we all have to acknowledge in this case, in order to move forward with our own quests to become our best selves.

It didn’t feel right to post my May recommendations last month as I didn’t feel comfortable promoting my own content in the midst of boosting Black voices. So today I’m bringing you a bumper edition of Alex Recommends. Here are 10 books that I’ve enjoyed since the start of May that I’d love to share with you. Enjoy! -Love, Alex x

FICTION: Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng

Set in the affluent neighbourhood of Shaker Heights, Ohio in the 1990s, two families are brought together and pulled apart by the most intense, devastating circumstances. Dealing with issues of race, class, coming-of-age, motherhood and the dangers of perfection, Little Fires Everywhere is highly addictive and effecting. With characters who are so heartbreakingly real and a story that weaves its way to your very core, I couldn’t put it down and I’m still thinking about it over a month after finishing it. 

FICTION: Get A Life, Chloe Brown by Talia Hibbert

When coding nerd Chloe Brown almost dies, she makes a list of goals and vows to finally Get A Life. So she enlists tattooed redhead handyman and biker Red to teach her how. Cute, funny and ultimately life-affirming, this enemies-to-lovers rom-com was exactly the brand of light relief that I needed this month. The follow-up Take A Hint, Dani Brown focuses on a fake-dating situation with Chloe’s over-achieving academic sister and I can’t wait to get my hands on that.

FICTION: The Rearranged Life of Oona Lockhart by Margarita Montimore

Just before her 19th birthday at midnight on New Year’s Eve 1983, Oona Lockhart finds herself inexplicably in 2015 inside her 51-year-old body. She soon learns that every year on New Year’s Day, she will now find herself inside a random year of her life and she has no control over it. Seeing her through relationships, friendships and extreme wealth, this strange novel has echoes of Back To The Future and 13 Going On 30 with a final revelation that I certainly never saw coming.

NON-FICTION: The Five by Hallie Rubenhold

Atmospheric and engaging, The Five details the previously untold stories of Polly, Annie, Elisabeth, Kate and Mary-Jane -the women who lost their lives at the hands of Jack the Ripper. Full of fascinating research and heartbreaking accounts of what these women’s lives may have been like, Rubenhold paints a dark immersive portrait of Victorian London and gives voice to these tragic silenced lives. Although we can’t know for certain if these accounts are entirely accurate, they feel very plausible and in some ways, The Five exposes how little time has moved on, when it comes to the public portrayal of single, troubled women.

NON-FICTION: Unicorn by Amrou Al-Kadhi

From a childhood crush on Macaulay Culkin to how a teenage obsession with marine biology helped them realise their non-binary identity, Unicorn tells the story of how the obsessive perfectionist son of a strict Muslim Iraqi family became the gorgeous drag queen Glamrou. Packed full of humour, honesty and heart, this book will give you the strength and inspiration to harness what you were born with and be who you were always meant to be.

MIDDLE-GRADE: The Super Miraculous Journey of Freddie Yates by Jenny Pearson

When fact-obsessed Freddie’s grandmother dies, he discovers that the father he has never met may actually be alive and living in Wales. So he has no choice but to grab his best friends Ben and Charlie, leave his home in Andover and go to find his dad! I laughed so many times during this madcap adventure and I know the slapstick crazy humour will hit the middle-grade target audience just right. It’s also a wonderful depiction of small town Britain with a focus on the true meaning of family.

MIDDLE-GRADE: A Kind Of Spark by Elle McNicoll

When Addie learns about her hometown’s history of witch trials, she campaigns tirelessly to get a memorial for the women who lost their lives through it. This wonderfully beautiful novel gives a unique insight into the mind of an 11-year-old autistic girl with a huge heart. Busting myths about neurodiversity while tackling typical pre-teen drama, you’ll laugh, you’ll cry but most of all, you’ll close the book with a huge smile on your face. 

HISTORICAL FICTION: Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell

In 16th century Warwickshire, Agnes is a woman with a unique gift whose relationship with a young Latin tutor produces three children and a legacy that lasts for centuries. This enchanting, all-consuming account of the tragic story of Shakespeare’s lost son, the effects that rippled through the family and the play that was born from their pain will send a bullet straight through your heart. Wonderfully researched and beautifully written, Hamnet is worth all of the hype.

HISTORICAL FICTION: The Mercies by Kiran Millwood Hargrave

When a vicious storm kills most of the men of Vardø, Norway, it’s up to the women to keep things going but a man with a murderous past is about to come down with an iron fist. At the heart of this dark tale of witch trials, grief and feminism, two women find something they’ve each been searching for within each other. Gorgeously written with a fantastically slow-burning queer romance, Kiran Millwood Hargrave’s first adult novel is an addictive, atmospheric read with a poignant, tearjerker of an ending.

SCI-FI: Q by Christina Dalcher

When one of Elena’s daughters manages to drop below the country’s desired Q number, she is sent away to one of the new state schools and Elena is about to find out something she’d really rather not know about the new system. Packed full of real social commentary and critique of life as we know it while painting a picture of how things could be even worse (yes, really!), this pulse-racing, horrifying sci-fi dystopian gripped me from the first page and refused to let me go. 

[misshoneywheeler]

Figured I’d do a post-season fic round-up post, since some things may have gotten a bit lost in the shuffle.

*

Everything That Sings and Sounds (And Sighs In Its Turn)  : Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen

Missing scene during S08E01 (1,591 words)

It’s a bit like a banquet after starving for years, or gaining riches after a lifetime of penury. The freedom to touch, to kiss, to surrender to desire, to feel… It’s almost more than Jon knows how to handle.

*

The Door to Your Room Was the Door to Mine : Arya Stark/Gendry Baratheon (née Waters)

Missing scene during S08E02 (2,187 words)

“I don’t know what to do,” she admits, her voice as unsure now as it had been certain before, as shy as it had been assertive. It’s a paradox that strikes at the heart of her: the steely armor around a soft and vulnerable heart.

*

Holdfast : Lyanna Mormont

Set during S08E03 : Warning for violence & death (419 words)

Lyanna knows she will not run, not this day. This is her battle and she will fight it.

*

Other Joys : Sansa Stark/Theon Greyjoy

Set between S08E02 & S08E03 : Warning for mentions of past abuse (1,786 words)

This is why she chose him, he realizes. And this is why he came. Only they can give this to each other. Only between themselves can they turn their pieces into a whole.

*

A Soft Place to Fall : Sansa Stark/Tyrion Lannister

Set after the feast during S08E04 :  Warning for mentions of past abuse (1,177 words)

If she’d loved him, she couldn’t have done this. It would have been too much, contrasted too sharply – too painfully – with Ramsay, and all she lost at his hands. Her scarred body can bear to be touched. Her scarred soul cannot.

*

The Heart Asks Pleasure First : Brienne of Tarth/Jaime Lannister

Missing scene from S08E04 (1,498 words)

“It’s like catching a felled tree,” he says, but there’s no mockery in it, only admiration. For the first time in her life, Brienne’s size doesn’t seem like an embarrassment or a burden. A feeling crystallizes, one that’s been forming since the first moment she fought him, with words and swords. He is her match, in a way no one else could be.

*

Impossible Not To Want : Daenerys Targaryen/Rhaenys Targaryen

Rhaegar lives AU : Warning for incest & underage sex (starting when Dany is 14 and Rhaenys is 17) (994 words)

Rhaenys can’t remember when she didn’t love Dany. She’d held her the day she was born, wiped her tears when she was afraid of storms, whispered stories to her in bed when Dany was 10 and learned what pleasure could mean in the same place when Dany was 14.

*

Cut The World In Two : Jon Snow/Sansa Stark

Set after the feast during S08E04 (2,061 words)

It had been hard when it was just the two of them, so hard, but it had also been simple. Their paths had been clear, their fates knotted together like rope.

*

Not For Ourselves Alone Are We Born : Jon Snow/Satin

Set after A Dance With Dragons (1,281 words)

Lord Snow’s eyes are closed. He leans into Satin’s hands, seeming almost like a faithful hound knowing it will be well-cared-for by its master. It’s entirely the opposite of their actual relationship, but it’s not the first time Satin has been keenly aware of how much Lord Snow trusts him.

* 

The Great Other (WIP)

The woman is important too (551 words thus far) 

Stories Untold : Nissa Nissa

The tale is one of sacrifice. Of a man anointed, his mettle tested. It’s the history of the world, and, in the way of such things, someone like you is only an echo.

The Seventh Kingdom : Meera Reed

The gossip makes no mention of them, of those who died that Bran might live to become a King. Of the girl who carried him for leagues on aching feet and learned to greet the sharp taste of fear at the back of her tongue like an old friend.

*

Kingmaker : Arianne Martell/Robb Stark

Robb lives AU, set after A Dance With Dragons (651 words)

She has known men who seemed as hard as armor, but that was only a shell; inside they were soft, vulnerable, like the hard-shelled crackclaws Arianne and her brothers would catch for supper during days at the shore when she was a girl. Robb has no need of a shell. All his armor is on the inside. It’s one way she and Robb are alike.

*

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Aladdin Queen style; John Deacon x reader Intro

*Author’s note*

Hello everyone well after seeing a couple of comments here on Tumblr I figured its best that I give you all what I had promised. So here we are with the Disney Queen fic Aladdin style. I hope you all enjoy these two chapters I’ve got for you :) And don’t forget to listen to the songs I will link throughout the story cause yes I’m making this a musical style fic.

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@ixchel-9275

@waddles03

@queendeakyy

@coolcxt

@mexifangorl

@geek-and-proud

_____________________________________________________

Visualize it if you will; walking through the streets of London, it’s partly cloudy but the merchants and sellers are out and about through the pleasant kingdom of England.  People all chattering amongst each other, bidders trying to sell their foods and stock, children racing about.

        You find yourself coming around the corner of a shop when a voice calls out to you.

        “Well I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before darling.” You turn to look and there leaning over the shop window was a pretty handsome young man.  Long raven black hair and the darkest chocolate eyes you’ve ever seen but with a hint of mischief to them.  “Tell me from where do you roam?” You answer him. “Ahh been there myself just last year. Quite a lovely place, if I do say so myself. Love the people there, but of course can’t argue with the drinks there.” He chuckled mischievously.

        You then ask him what exactly he has to offer in this shop and he answers you with a wide grin, revealing an overbite but strangely it seemed to fit him.

        “Well wouldn’t you like to find out? C’mon in my lovely dears.” You enter inside the shop to reveal beautiful antiques that seem to come from all over the world.

        From katanas in Japan, Buddha statues of India, treasures from South America. You also feel something rub up against your leg.  You look down to see a grey and brownish cat with blue eyes.

        “Oh that cheeky little thing is Tiffany. One of my many little pets. However none of them are for sale so I hope you understand.” You nod. “Excellent. So feel free to look around and pick whatever your heart’s desire.”

        “Freddie, you better not be scaring the costumers again!” Another voice cried out.

        “Ohh darling I wouldn’t dream of it.” The merchant now known as Freddie turns back towards you and chuckles before saying, “My partner always thinking I’ll scare off any customer that comes. I may look intimidating but I’m really harmless, unless you don’t want me to be.” He winks cheekily at you before turning back around and picking up a grey and white tabby cat off the counter. “Again look around while I tend to my children here.”

He leaves you to your own to look around the shop. Your eye immediately caught onto all the jewels and gold trinkets.  But there was one thing that really caught your attention.

A lamp.  And not a lamp light, no this lamp looked like some sort of tea-pot style lamp. It was pure gold with a beautiful crystalline design around the top portion of the lamp.

“Oh that, that is the story décor. Unfortunately that’s also not for sale either.” You ask why not? “Why? Well….this lamp is not some ordinary lamp this lamp—changed the lives of many people. In fact this lamp changed the lives of two countries.” You are intrigued. Freddie noticing that you are wanting to know more asks you. “Tell me, do you know the story of (Y/n), the English Prince and the magic lamp?” You shake your head. “Would you like to hear it?” You nod your head. “Ahh excellent. I knew you’d be wanting to hear the story. Sit over here darling.”

He pulls up a red velvet chair for you to sit in and he pats the cushioned seat and you gladly sit down.

“Now then my darling, buckle up because this is a long story.”  He gracefully spins around your chair to end up behind you as he paints you a picture of the story you are about to embark on.

Using grand gestures with his hands to emphasize his point giving you a warm or wide smile, ready to share this tale that changed two kingdoms forever.

Play video

*Freddie*

Oh, imagine a land, it's a faraway place Where the caravan camels roam Where you wander among

Every culture and tongue It's chaotic, but hey, it's home

When the wind's from the east And the sun's from the west And the sand in the glass is right Come on down, stop on by Hop a carpet and fly To another Arabian night

        And this is where our story begins.  Now imagine it’s nightfall out in the kingdom of India.  Out in the streets merchants are still trying to make their living by selling the last of their things before turning in for the night.

        We see a small monkey bouncing and running from cart to cart taking and sneaking in something into it’s small vest.  It soon reaches a young woman who is casually walking the streets and she nonchalantly lowers her hand so the monkey can crawl up onto her shoulders and rest there.  

She takes the stolen necklace the monkey managed to grab and she pockets it into her bag as the monkey jumps off of her shoulders and it jumps onto a cart filled with blankets and tapestries. Looking for something else to steal.

As you wind through the streets

At the fabled bazaars With the cardamom-cluttered stalls You can smell every spice While you haggle the price Of the silks and the satin shawls

Oh, the music that plays as you move through a maze In the haze of your pure delight You are caught in a dance, you are lost in the trance Of another Arabian night

        We are now greeted by a large palace that stands at the end of the village. This palace in particular was designed as a housing for their partnering country of England.  Up along the balcony three old men bearing English crowns were feasting on various foods from grapes and apples to the hard meat of chicken and turkey and pheasant.

        One of the kings turned towards a lioness that sat just a few feet calmly but eyeing the chicken in his hand.  After eating just one bite of the large chicken leg, he tossed it towards the lioness and went back to chatting with the two other kings.

        The lioness immediately took the meat as it was thrown to her and ate it as she stepped down onto the lower edge to walk up to not only another lion but to three younger men.

        One of them held a badger in his arms and had a mass of brown curly hair and hazel eyes, the other had long blonde hair and blue eyes and was petting the dark maned male lion.  The lioness stopped before the youngest of the three.  He had long straight brown hair and a mixture of hazel-blue eyes. He stroked the lioness’s head making her lowly growl with content.

        A parrot soon came into view and the male lion took notice of it.  He got into pouncing positions before finally roaring as he lunged towards the parrot but missing it by an inch.  The parrot squawked but flew high above the night sky.

Beyond the palace and all the way past the desert till it came to a mountain range.  There a few people stood but what they were looking at was something far mind-boggling.

There embedded within the mountains the cave entrance looked like a tiger’s head and the only way to enter inside was going through it’s mouth.  It’s eyes glowing like pure fire.

Arabian nights Like Arabian days More often than not are hotter than hot In a lot of good ways Arabian nights Like Arabian dreams This mystical land of magic and sand Is more than it seems

There's a road that may lead you to good or to greed Through the power your wishing commands Let the darkness unfold or find fortunes untold Well, your destiny lies in your hands

“Only one may enter here One whose worth lies far within. The diamond in the rough.” It’s thunderous voice commanded.  A guard was forcing a man to enter inside.  The man refused but when the guard took out his sword, it made the man change his mind.

Hesitantly and fearfully he slowly entered inside the tiger’s mouth.

Arabian nights Like Arabian days They seem to excite, take off and take flight To shock and amaze

The cave collapses on the man entering inside burying him under rock, dust and rubble.  It’s eyes glowed with fire as the thundering voice spoke out once more.

“Seek thee out, the Diamond in the rough!” A man wearing royal advisory robes having short brown hair and a mustache across his upper lip, glared down to the ground as his parrot looked at him.

Arabian nights

'Neath Arabian moons

A fool off his guard could fall and fall hard Out there on the dunes.

[pellecebrae]

~ ★ Christmas Drabble for Vodka @honourquinx ♡ ~

     ♤ How long has it been? Time had flown by so mercilessly. Ruthlessly. And still, in a sense, he had never looked back [ was that true? ]. With all these little flashes and pieces of information trickling in as if to hammer it inside his mind that - in a sense - had forgotten 'something' [ someone? ] and was not let off anytime soon from that very phantasm haunting dreams. Tokyo was a cesspool for however long Jura had been able to remember and with his father's decision to remove his children from the tumultuous rage and war that was going on against an enemy neither ghoul nor human was truly able to understand, he had been made to watch and consider. Had been pushed to survey the offered data that media would be able to cover [ how much had it truly been? ].

    ♤ It went all over the world like a shadow. Engulfing whatever security would dangle in front of mortal minds within a few hours that Tokyo itself would need to recover. Was it real? Was it an illusion dragged out by those that didn't want to believe? Had peace finally come?

    ♤ Whatever it may be, time that had passed was enough for the doctor to entertain a trip back. For his sire to permit it even though indulgence of said cause would be rather short-lived, humorous as the leader was, he would wave it off the moment something could cross minds. So , he shall leave his oldest be. After all: for the second at least, he would be fine in that cacophony of silent screams and toneless blight. It was a journey meant to perceive what all had come undone [ and, perchance, if anything could be used by getting there ]. Favourable still, that something was waiting for him.

    ♤ Something he did not think he had so sorely missed.

    ♤ Seeing those formerly hating one another to be in 'harmony' with not an ounce of hate to be found [ it was a lie, and he knew it ] was an entertaining realisation to rely upon those waiting later. Wandering into the former headquarters of those that would loathe and long to kill him, now to be invited in and greeted so politely still [ it was a lie as well. they didn't know who he was ]. Honey-sweet would a requested name drip from his tongue in waiting for the officer to regard and redirect him---

    ♤ ---Just for expression to frown. For confusion to rise. He had to call another one, the mentioned name of 'Washuu' being to his surprise. Another was then given, a call had been made [ oh, he had so much to ask after, didn't he? ], before Jura would be brought along and deeper into the headquarters that had been so shortly ago - how long? how long? - the bane of his kind's existence in this beautiful and yet rotten city's core.

    ♤ Waiting with legs crossed over one another, the papers he had been offered to get to know what had gone over missed only regarded with minor glances. Unfurling before his eyes was a story untold yet by media and mind.

    ♤ How quaint, he thinks, with hot coffee to touch his lips, his tongue, his throat---

    ♤ ' ---Jura? '

    ♤ The sound was near foggy to reach his occupied mind. The name that falls in those very delightful tones of unexpected cadence was enough to have him raise his head, tilt it marginally to the side and regard the man now staring at him with unbridled surprise with a mild smile that would be so rarely seen. So barely perceived [ not even for his family would he do it that often ]. " It has been a while, Mister Suzuki~ " And thus he announces his awareness of the changes. The realisations. The questioning tones formerly having fallen from new co-workers and corrections made for the doctor to proceed, oh---

    ♤ ---Maybe it was all too much? Judging by the still haunted expression that drops gaze down the ground at the moment his teasing greeting had left lips with that slightest of curls. Oh, how long ago had it been [ how many years had passed? ], and before long his slender form shifts and moves. Unfurls from his place of waiting to meticulously wander closer and closer, each step resonating with the drumming of one's heart. Slower and slower before the stop of Jura's solicitous grace would nearly still Matsuri's heart whole. How long had it been? [ and why, indeed, had he returned? ].

    ♤ Thus lithe hands would reach up, bridge that distance between them that was nearly daunting [ oh so haunting ] until soft fingertips trace along worrisome tired lines. How much older he appeared since Jura had left and how they had grown 'apart' still able to cross that gap like it was nought. Oh, he had forgotten something. Had left someone behind [ on his father's request, for the other man would not want to hide ], so thus, before anything could be said, a smile as bright as sunshine blooms upon his face. Years, truly had it been years already? Why not offer something that seemed so far out of reach and yet could be touched and chased like the fine built of bones explored and tenderly grasped moving inside his wrist.

    ♤ What to do with this moment of misery? While ignoring all the echoes around them, the questions that arise and the discussions that might result? Never once in his life had he bothered or pondered with these thoughts to be answered by the desires whirling around his mind and the subtlety of a claim that they were for---

    ♤ ---One another? " My father requested I report back to him with the answer how this part of the world is turning out to be~ " A subtle singing chime in fluency of the Japanese spoken so long ago. Knowing well enough that his voice had always soothed him. Always - broken - him. Thus, he laughs, a mere raise of his shoulders with a stark gentleness so barely perceived. " And report back from you, that is. " So rarely would the leader permit for others to know and comprehend how much he does covet this or that being in existence. Why not now? Thus, when Matsuri's eyes reach his own and lips do part to question, silenced he finds himself with the tenderness of a kiss. " And will take you home with me. " Because he has been told to - and he wants to as well.

[muellercorn]

Happy International Women's Day! These are women involved in theatre that I believe have paved the future for female artists. I think it would be apt for you to read their names and stories and then let me know women who inspire you in the theatre world and how you think they're shaping the future. Reblog if you see your inspirations and share their stories.

1. Jennifer Kirby. We may only be 3 months into 2019, but I'm ready to call Jennifer Kirby woman of the year. At age 30, I'd already consider her a veteran of the RSC, a company where she has portrayed so many Shakespearean females with a new found voice and personality. She first appeared on our screens in Call The Midwife in 2016 as Nurse Valerie Dyer. From the start Val has faced some of the most brutal storylines, most involving the rights of women and the working class, and been an absolute inspiration due to her brave and loving personality. However over the last 8 weeks she has been the pioneer character of the most powerful women's rights stories I've seen in entertainment ever. If it hadn't been for Kirby's authentic, sensitive performance and her deep understanding of the human condition from women who've walked different lives from her own, this storyline would not have had the impact that it has. She never complains about a hard storyline either, when interviewers ask how difficult scenes were, her response is always one of gratitude enthusiasm and excitement for the changes it could bring about in society. I believe this will be the start of more powerful storylines for women in the media and moreover I know her performance has had a real life effect on society, changing and developing people's opinions and giving them fresh eyes to see other people's experiences through with sympathy and care.

2. Jessie Mueller. During her Broadway career this far, Mueller has portrayed some of the most complex women with such heart and integrity. She has proven endlessly that vulnerability and strength can coexist. In 2016 Jessie won the Lilly Award (awards for females making a difference in society) for best actress following her run as Jenna in Waitress. A not was left in the theatre's lobby saying that Jessie's heartfelt performance helped a woman decide to leave the abusive relationship she was in. Additionally Jessie has done countless benefits for charities benefiting women, is an activist for equal rights and a dedicated educator. Jessie has defied type casting and shown us all that we are not defined by anything but our hearts and work ethic.

3. Ruthie Ann Miles. Strength, power, inspiration - Ruthie is the true embodiment of all these things. Moreover she spreads happiness and joy, ever since I watched her win her Tony I just felt this overwhelming sense of happiness. This woman spreads light everywhere she goes and never fails to make me brim with happiness and smiles. In today's world we need a light and Ruthie truly is that light.

4. Marianne Elliott. To me, Marianne Elliott is the best theatre director of our times. Directing is a profession that is predominantly male dominated and I believe that Elliott will be one of the key figures in changing that. Her love for her work is evident in the current revival of Company a true highlight of the theatre scene in recent years. Her integrity, leadership skills and incredible visions have led to a groundbreaking piece of theatre for women.

5. Rosalie Craig. Her incredible portrayal of the 'new' Bobbie in the 2018 Company Revival has given an in depth, layered portrayal of a woman who is unapologetic for her decisions and personal internal debates. Craig brings so much to this role that you don't see Bobbie as promiscuous like expected but rather as someone simply living life making her own calls and it's absolutely refreshing and unique to see. Furthermore her talent is so stellar that it is guaranteed to inspire a generation of young performers.

6. Katrina Lenk. Resilience strikes me when I think of Katrina Lenk. Her break came in her 40s, prior to this she was relatively unknown in the mainstream theatre world however she never stopped working. Women are ingrained to believe their value decreases as they age, especially in the arts, however Katrina has proven that this is not true. We gain experience, life lessons, emotional qualities, skills and ethics that helps us grow as people and performers. When I think of Katrina Lenk I think of someone so driven by love rather than fame. Additionally, through the characters she portrayed, Katrina has given a voice to so many women who's stories would typically go untold.

7. Jessie Nelson. A valued part of the first all female Broadway creative team for Waitress, Nelson wrote the book for the musical and in doing so helped create a masterpiece and a true gift for all women who feel their story doesn't matter. She comprehensively understands what it means to be female, the importance of female friendship and the responsibility that came with writing a script like this. Thanks to Nelson we have a musical that honours our stories and inspires us to go out and speak of our own experiences. She helped create the living proof that female stories sell and I'm sure we will see many more following in its footsteps.

8. Paula Vogel. Scriptwriter, Vogel, first came to my intention when I first watched Indecent on Broadway HD. The main two things that hit me regarding women's rights upon watching the play, was the portrayal of sexuality between Dina and Ruth outside of the internal play 'God of Vengeance', this relationship is powerful and much more emotionally based than trying to portray lesbian relationships as sexual items for men's pleasure as many arts still find acceptable. Additionally at the start of the play when describing the casting type of each troupe member, Vogel avoids attaching gender to the description starting the tone with the message they desire to continue with, equality for all.

9. Eva Noblezada. I will never forget Noblezada's performance as Kim, I remember being truly in awe and inspired. Then when learning how young she was I was admired at her dedication to travel thousands of miles from home at such a young age in true dedication to telling a story she believes in. Miss Saigon has a story line so beautifully reflective of the maternal side of women and Noblezada's performance portrayed this beautifully showing the true fierce strength that women posses.

10. Hailey Kilgore. A Tony award nomination at age 19! That is more than enough to inspire. Additionally the profound and positive outlook Kilgore has about the world is beyond beautiful and heartwarming.

11. Patti Murin. I admire anyone who speaks out about mental illness and Murin does so so candidly that it is unbelievably inspirational. It's a daunting thing to do because mental illness can be mistaken for being 'overly emotional' or 'unreliable' and I commend Murin for speaking out anyway knowing what she is risking because it will remind an entire generation who struggle with their mental health not to give up because of it. Despite her struggles Murin's work is incredibly joyful and can brighten up any day.

12. Sara Bareilles. Always dedicated to writing her truth, Bareilles has never cabed into the pressure of writing a traditional love song at times when it didn't feel authentic to her. Being motivated to make art rather than money, Sara Bareilles has written so many anthems for women reminding them to feel and fight. Furthermore she's proved that you don't have to write songs about men to sell music, authenticity leads to success.

13. Adrienne Warren. This woman is a force. She is currently giving everything she's got to bring the empowering story of Tina Turner to life 8 times a week in the west end. She is the driving force of a vital story for women in society and she treats it with the importance and passion it deserves. Furthermore her social media is dedicated to educating people about equality for all in society.

14. Marin Mazzie. In September 2018 Marin lost her battle to Ovarain cancer but her legacy will pass from generation to the next. Her dedication to what she loved during her battle is the epitome of female strength, additionally she committed time to activism and raising awareness of ovarian cancer. To me 'Back to Before' - Ragtime is the ultimate theatre anthem for women's rights and Marin's recording and perspective is so moving and empowering that it has the ability to motivate anyone who listens to change the world.

15. Bernadette Peters. A true theatre icon Peters has wrestled with all the names in the book, the classic term 'Diva' that was constantly thrown around when a woman was so powerful and successful in their field that people didn't know how to react. I don't think anything will stop this woman..... I mean did you see the press ups on The View, in high heels and a dress! Icon! Furthermore this was the week before her 70th birthday. I don't think Peters will ever age in spirit or appearance but she embraces her age regardless, the host with held her name but Peters made it clear that she feels age shouldn't be hidden from as our value does not decrease in anyway. Her work in theatre and charity should be inspirational to all.

16. Lindsay Mendez. Firstly I admire any women dedicated to educating and teaching, like Lindsay is. I could say a lot about Lindsay, but I feel she says it best herself. She is true to her identity, body positive and wants to represent everyday people through her art, as we all should if we consider art as a mirror to society.

“When I moved to New York, I was told to change my last name from Mendez to Matthews, or I wouldn’t work. I’m so proud to be part of a community that celebrates diversity and individuality … Be your true self and the world will take note.”

"When you hear you’re going to audition for “Dogfight,” the show about bringing ugly women to parties, you’re like, ‘Oh, great, thank you.’ But that’s also our dream as actors, to play someone else and give someone else a voice. I love this character so much."

17. Cobie Smulders. Whilst filming HIMYM Cobie was privately battling Ovarian Cancer, she beat it and later went on to defy odds by having her own children. Her dedication to her art during this time is a testimony to her strength and will. Furthermore during her time on the show Cobie brought to life incredibly moving stories specific to women in society giving them a voice. She has since gone on to have a successful career in film and theatre and has a large voice in social activism. Her accounts about her battle with ovarian cancer will help to give so much support to women going through similar difficult times and hopefully raise awareness in others so they're able to detect this illness in early stages.

18. Ella Fitzgerald. To me Ella is the American song book, she is the voice of all the Gershwin, Porter, Berlin musicals that came to follow. She gave a voice to a minority and inspired so many people. She continues to inspire people when ever you listen to recordings of her and feel the raw emotion. The modern musical stands on Ella's shoulders.

19. Audra McDonald. SIX TONY AWARDS. She's defied every odd and stereotype by purely working hard and being a truly good person. She's inspired many people and shown us all that anything is possible when you're prepared to prove people wrong. Furthermore she always takes time to thank and honour those who came before her, the people who's shoulders she stands on and that to me is what female empowerment is more than anything else.

20. Judy Garland. My personal inspiration and to be honest I struggle to articulate how she inspires me as it's more of an emotion than a string of thoughts. I just believe Garland strove for love, kindness and friendship over anything. I also believe her work is a sign of hope, no matter how she was treated she never gave in, she didn't stop doing what she loved because of the way she was treated she kept going. It's debatable if that's the right decision, but it doesn't matter as it was a strong decision and it was Judy's. I respect her an unbelievable amount for her voice, her heart and her perspective on the world. Imagine what would be if that sweet girl hadn't sang 'Over The Rainbow' all those years ago, and imagine even more what could have been if we saw Garland for the layered, complex human being she was rather than sweet and cheery Dorothy Gale. Personally whenever I get the chance to perform I always think of Garland before I step on stage, I thank her for her sacrifices to the art because it wouldn't be what it is today if it weren't for her, I don't think there will ever be a star as bright again. It's also to remember that whilst addiction and mental illness don't descriminate, Judy wouldn't have faced many of the issues she did if she wasn't a woman.

"Always be a first-rate version of yourself, instead of a second-rate version of somebody else."

The perspective we all should have had:

"I've always taken 'The Wizard of Oz' very seriously, you know. I believe in the idea of the rainbow. And I've spent my entire life trying to get over it."

I hope to hear of those who inspire you and I hope we all continue to inspire and empower each other. Alicia x

[richincolor]

Group Discussion: Patron Saints of Nothing

Hey, everyone! The Rich in Color bloggers have gotten together to discuss Randy Ribay’s PATRON SAINTS OF NOTHING. As always, there will likely be spoilers in our conversation. If you haven’t yet read it, we recommend you go get it.

A powerful coming-of-age story about grief, guilt, and the risks a Filipino-American teenager takes to uncover the truth about his cousin’s murder.

Jay Reguero plans to spend the last semester of his senior year playing video games before heading to the University of Michigan in the fall. But when he discovers that his Filipino cousin Jun was murdered as part of President Duterte’s war on drugs, and no one in the family wants to talk about what happened, Jay travels to the Philippines to find out the real story.

Hoping to uncover more about Jun and the events that led to his death, Jay is forced to reckon with the many sides of his cousin before he can face the whole horrible truth — and the part he played in it.

As gripping as it is lyrical, Patron Saints of Nothing is a page-turning portrayal of the struggle to reconcile faith, family, and immigrant identity.

Crystal: Families are complicated. Very complicated. Jay likely knew that on one level, but as he gets re-acquainted with his extended family in the Philippines, this becomes even more obvious. I found it interesting that Jay felt closer to his cousins than his siblings. And even more notable was his relationship with his uncle, but for completely different reasons. I think his changing opinions of his uncle were evidence that he was maturing. He begins to see that not only are family relationships complex, but people are too. We’re not simply good or evil. Individuals have so many facets.

Jessica: As someone who grew up in a different country than my cousins, I definitely connected with Jay’s relationship with Jun — close in some ways, distant in others, and overshadowed by the regret that they’ve drifted apart. The letters the two exchange really brought Jun to life, and his initial introduction — consoling Jay — sets the tone for a central conflict: The ways Jay is connected to his heritage, and the ways his perspective differs, as someone who grew up in America. I’m in awe of how PATRON SAINTS OF NOTHING managed to thread the needle on this conflict, and show the fraught complexities of family, and coming from an immigrant background.

Audrey: I really liked how PATRON SAINTS OF NOTHING tackled complicated family dynamics between and across generations. Whether its Jay and his immediate family, the relationships among the parents’ generation, or his slow-building connection to Grace, there is a lot simmering under the surface. Not only are different people actively keeping secrets from one another, but Jay is also at a significant disadvantage due to language and cultural barriers. (Side note: As someone who can’t communicate much with her own grandmother due to a language barrier, Jay’s interactions with his grandparents were painfully familiar.) I really appreciated the scene with Jun’s service for this reason; even though Jay couldn’t understand most of what his other family members said, it was obvious that Jun had mattered to them all despite the ways they had/had not shown it previously.

K. Imani: I agree with you Audrey about how the novel tackled the dynamics across generations. In my extended family, so many stories are unknown because the elders refuse to speak on it, like Jay’s father about why he left the Philippines. The last years of Jun’s life would have been another untold story had not Jay decided to seek it out and stir up trouble in his family. I could truly empathize with his struggle and his frustration with his family, specifically his uncle. I feel like Jay’s insistence on learning about Jun and his family helped not only himself but the rest of his family.

Crystal: A large part of this story focuses on Jay’s connections to his family and to the Philippines. His father explains that “It’s easy to romanticize a place when it’s far away. Filipino Americans have a tendency to do that.” He goes on to say, “But as many good things as there are, there are many bad things, things not so easy to see from far away. When you are close, though, they are sometimes all you see.” Jay definitely has to square his ideas about the Philippines with the reality he meets.

Jessica: Ack! This was a big deal to me… so naturally, I’ve already discussed it in my earlier answer — but yeah, that line from his father is so important, especially in stories where an American goes back to the motherland. I feel that, as someone who’s always dreaming of Taiwan.

Audrey: Jay marched into his extended family’s lives (and the Philippines) with a lot of ignorance and multiple preconceptions, and by the end of it, he left with a better understanding of them and himself–and a desire to close the distance between them. What elevates this from the painful White Person Goes to a Foreign Country to Find/Better Themselves narrative is that Jay gets called out on his ignorance and assumptions constantly, and he isn’t a savior who sweeps in and fixes everything. There are Filipinos already doing the hard work and who will continue to do that work after he leaves. At the same time, Jay also has claim to his motherland, and his uncle’s gatekeeping and frequent digs at Jay are clearly unhelpful. I think a lot of diaspora folks will find things to relate to in Jay’s story.

Crystal: This book deals with President Duterte’s war on drugs. The abuse of drugs is such a huge social issue. It seems when people declare these wars on drugs, they actually seem to declare war on people. And the people they are warring against are often the ones most negatively impacted by the drug use. Jun’s cousin Grace tells him that Jun thought “that those suffering from addiction needed to be helped, not to be arrested because their addiction was as much genetics as it was a choice. And those pushing need to be employed, not killed, because most of them were only trying to survive.” Beyond that, looking for the corruption that allowed the drugs to get into the country would also be a good place to start. It’s so much easier to demonize the addicts and the pushers than solving many of the problems that lead to the drug use — especially when the people in power actually benefit from looking like they are working on the problem, but still leaving the whole system in place. This story helps share the human side of this war.

Audrey: PATRON SAINTS OF NOTHING did a great job of pointing out the complexity and hypocrisy surrounding this war on drugs and how easy it is for people to start looking at one another as less worthy of life simply because they are visible symptoms of larger social ills. Even Jay doesn’t want to believe that Jun could have been using drugs, and that leads him to erroneous conclusions for much of the novel. It’s simpler for those in power to make an enemy of those who are suffering rather than doing the complicated, expensive work of tackling corruption and the problems that lead to drug use in the first place.

K. Imani: I agree with both of you that this novel does an excellent job of putting a human face on drug abuse, and highlights the issue with Duterte’s drug war, that sadly, many in the US do not know about. It definitely showed that the way to deal with drug abuse is to treat it as a health issue, rather than a criminal issue, because Jun wasn’t a criminal. Jun was a troubled, but giving soul, and if he’d had treatment instead of killed, he would really make an impact in his world. Additionally, I feel like this highlight of Duterte’s drug war also shows how power corrupts and how people can fall so easily into following along to hold onto power. I know that we learned different sides of Uncle Maning, however, his blind faithfulness to Duterte and the drug war disturbed me. The belief to do anything for the “law and order” and the “safety of the people”, when in reality the ones in power are the ones we fear. This hit a little too close to home to me.

Crystal: Many families have secrets or things they really don’t talk about much, but there were many things going on here that Jay was learning for the first time. Some of his family members are working to help girls escape from trafficking situations and he never even knew. It makes me think about how many things people are keeping from each other. And like Jay wonders, why do we not share more and love more when we all have the capacity to love so deeply? We certainly miss out, but it’s protective to stay separate and keep things hidden.

Audrey: Some of the best scenes in the book are when Jay is able to bridge that gap between himself and someone else in his family. It takes courage to speak and the willingness to be vulnerable, and Jay is starting to embrace both by the end of the book. Jun’s letters were excellent examples of this, as was Jay’s final letter back. I was really pleased with how the book ended and how Jay had changed in this regard when he came back to the U.S.

K. Imani: Without giving away the ending, I loved the way Patron Saints ended because Jay and his father’s conversation ended the cycle of keeping secrets. In the beginning of the book, Jay didn’t really have a deep friendship with anyone and I felt sad for him, but clearly it was because he was used to growing up with a closed off family. Clearly, he needed an outlet and I feel like the trip to the Philippines and his brief time with Mia, who became a real friend, helped him express himself for the first time in years. It was also very brave of him to speak out to his family, but it overall lead to a healthy change for Jay and his entire family. I almost wanted an epilogue at the end to see how much his family had changed after Jay’s experience, as I would have loved to see how Jay’s relationship with his father changed for the better.

Crystal: I haven’t seen many books set in the Philippines, but I’ve really enjoyed the ones I’ve read — ANGEL DE LA LUNA AND THE 5TH GLORIOUS MYSTERY (review here) and DURAN DURAN, IMELDA MARCOS, AND ME (adult book with YA appeal). Have you all read many other books set there? Do you have any to recommend?

Jessica: This is a short story and not a YA book, but it’s really good so I’m going to take the chance to plug it anyway: “Asphalt, River, Mother, Child” by Isabel Yap on Strange Horizons. The story tackles the what’s going on in the Philippines right now, and it’s incredible and heartbreaking. (Please check the content warnings before reading.)

Audrey: You know, I think PATRON SAINTS OF NOTHING is the first book I’ve read set in the Philippines! I have read works by Filipino-American writers before, but this was the first one actually set in the Philippines, so far as I remember.

K. Imani: I read ANGEL DE LA LUNA AND THE 5TH GLORIOUS MYSTERY as well and really loved it, so I second Crystal’s recommendation. I don’t think I’ve read any others, but I’m definitely open to reading more in the future.

Extra: Salve Villarosa (@cuckooforbooks) a BookTuber in the Phillipines created two great videos about this book. The first is her review of the book and the second is a Q&A with Randy Ribay during his book launch in Manila.

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