#I don’t always love modern poetry and I have read behind too many people who are snobby about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nikethestatue · 3 years

Text

La Dolce Vita

Part II

On the Wings of Desire

Warnings: Language

(I had to split this chapter into two because it was getting too long. Hence, no sexy times, but angst galore) Comments and reblogs and likes are always appreciated! Let me know what you think.

Chapter One is here

Two Years Ago

Azriel

Azriel pulled up to the flower shop.

There was a surprise that he wanted to share with Elain, and like a young boy on his first date, he was both excited and nervous. But he hoped that she’d like it. Funny how he still got a little nervous with her, exuberant even.

It’s been three months since they’ve met and he loved every minute that they’d spent together. The nature of their relationship was a little undefined, but he didn’t care. So what if they weren’t ‘dating’? So there weren’t official dinners and outings, to show only the best part of each other to one another? They moved beyond that right away. They simply loved being together. It was inexplicable, how quickly it happened, how easy it was between the two of them, but Azriel could never get enough of Elain.

He came to her shop whenever he wanted, helped her out, hung out with her, and she went to the garage to meet him. If he was busy and couldn’t meet with her, she closed her shop for lunch, and brought him a sandwich, so they could eat together. He loved it, even if he actually had a restaurant and a bar on premises and she technically didn’t need to buy him food. But there was something special about her coming up the stairs to his office, dressed in one of her cute, flowery dresses and heels. Every time it was a different sandwich, a different drink and a different snack—sometimes a cookie, or good chocolate, or weird chips, or a full-on pastry with cream and ganache and whatnot. He developed a strange fascination with his lunch options, never knowing what it would be and eagerly anticipating it.

Sometimes, he took her on long rides—one of their favourite past times. If he knew that she was up to her eyeballs with orders, since this was summer and it seemed like everyone was getting married, he would bring her takeout to the shop, and they’d sit and arrange flowers until the wee hours. When things calmed down, and there was a quiet evening ahead, she usually invited him to come and eat at her place. They cooked together, drank wine, and then went for a walk.

They haven’t had a kiss yet.

Did it bother him? He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t dream of Elain all the time, of her supple, soft body, of how she’d look naked, of how she’d feel when he filled her, what sounds she’d make, what her face would look like when she climaxed around him? Was she a screamer? A beggar? Was she loud or quiet and shy?

She never spoke of her past boyfriends, so he had no idea of how many men she’s been with. Secretly, he hoped that it wasn’t too many. Maybe it was some male thing, but the idea of her with another man, the thought of someone else touching her, making her moan, making her love—it didn’t please him at all. He thought that he was more modern, more advanced in his thinking—and usually he was—but in this case, he was struggling with accepting Elain wrapped around some other male.

Surprisingly, even though it wasn’t even 6 pm yet, the flowers that usually spilled outside the shop were not gracing the pavement and the shop looked closed for the day. But Azriel went and knocked on the glass door anyway, seeing as there was some light coming from Elain’s office in the back. There was no response, but he knocked even harder, almost banging, until he heard Elain’s muffled voice yelling, “we are closed!”

“Laney, open up! It’s me!”

A few moments later, Elain appeared in the darkness and then the door opened.

And his jaw almost dropped.

She stood in front of him, wearing a slinky, satin, cobalt dress that looked almost like lingerie. Of modest length, it nevertheless emphasized her breasts very enticingly: soft and full, and pushed together just enough to create a hint of delicious cleavage. A simple set of glittering silver chains nestled seductively in that yummy valley between her breasts. One bare foot was clad in a strappy silver sandal, while she held the other, and jumped awkwardly on one foot, balancing herself on the doorframe. Her hair was curled and arranged over one naked shoulder.

He struggled to keep his breath from whooshing loudly.

“Whoa…”

“Hi Az,” she sounded…uncomfortable.

“Hey you. Hot date?” he chuckled, eyes gliding from her pretty toes up to her eyes.

Her throat bobbed and she didn’t answer.

Shit.

He fought the urge to cross his arms on his chest. But then he’d look threatening, towering over her, much like his father did when he was in one of his moods. Azriel swore to himself long ago to never, ever cross his arms with women.

“I didn’t think you’d be coming over,” she began, voice wobbling.

“So, you figured that you could sneak out?” he spat unkindly.

“I am not sneaking out!” she snapped, flushed and defiant. “I am going out,”

“With whom?” he demanded.

He and Elain had never fought. Never even disagreed.

They laughed together. They joked and discussed. They argued over books and movies. They talked about design, food and travel, places they wanted to visit, and things they wanted to see. Elain randomly texted him names of 3 and 2 Michelin star restaurants from all over the world, telling him where she wanted to dine, why, and eagerly opining on the menus.

Elain was his.

His little foodie, who was a fearless eater, and sampled just about everything and anything.

Elain was his.

His little art lover, who had a surprisingly wide breadth of knowledge of painting, art history and strong opinions on artists and styles. When he found out that she adored Balthus and that Egon Schiele was her favourite artist of all time, his respect for her only increased.

Elain was his.

His little intellectual, who read Anna Akhmatova’s poetry, listened to Alain Elkann’s podcast, and who could easily talk about the history of Lamborghini or Aston Martin, and Formula 1, just to satisfy him.

What the fuck was this?

Why was his Elain going on some date with another man?

Anger rose in him so quickly; he had a difficult time stopping his hands from shaking. So, he clasped them behind his back.

“It’s none of your business,” she said coldly. “I don’t have to report to you who I am going out with,”

“You don’t?” he demanded absurdly.

“No, I don’t!”

“Please tell me who he is?” he decided on a different approach. His brain was working furiously, trying to dissuade her, yet not anger her, yet find out as much information as possible.

“No!” she shook her head stubbornly. “Why do you even care?”

Why did he care? WHY did he care?

He couldn’t have been misreading all the signs. He couldn’t have been misreading her interest, her acceptance, her want.

There was no doubt in his mind that she wanted him—emotionally, as a friend, as a partner, as a lover. Reading people was his job, his calling, and he’d never been wrong. He certainly wasn’t wrong with Elain—she was an open book to him. He didn’t need to evaluate her reactions to his company to know that she was absolutely enthralled with him.

So why this?

Was it something he did? There were no hints of anything amiss the last time they’d seen each other. They were at her place, they cooked Italian together—spaghetti and clams—and he opened a bottle of Petilia Greco di Tufo, a pure, harmonious white from Campania. Then they went to the rooftop—their favourite place—and watched the city, enjoying gelato and playing cards.

Squeezing his hands behind his back, he demanded, “Has he been vetted?”

“Vetted? Vetted?” she exclaimed incredulously. “Who is going to be doing this vetting?”

She stared at him and bit out,

“I don’t like this side of you. This is crazy behaviour,”

“Why? Because you are going on a date? Suddenly. Unexpectedly.”

At that, she blushed furiously, squirming under his heavy, icy gaze.

He continued, “And with some guy you refuse to tell me anything about. Have you told Cass?”

“What? What exactly is Cass? My father?”

“Cass runs security for,”

“I know what Cass does!” she cried, looking furious, but also uncomfortable. Insecure. Anxious. “But I am not telling him. Leave me alone. I am not telling anyone,”

“Not even Nesta? Elide?” he demanded. “And what if something happens?”

“What’s going to happen?!” she asked nervously.

Nothing.

Probably nothing.

He was being an overbearing creep, but he couldn’t stop.

He needed to know. And yes, he wanted her to be safe.

“Who knows?” he shrugged menacingly. “He is unvetted. No one knows anything about him. Have you even Googled him?”

She blushed.

That’s a no.

“Unless you tell me his name, I am not leaving,” he warned. “I need to know who you are going to be with.”

“I am not telling you.”

“Fine,” he propped himself against the door. “We’ll just stand here.”

“Fine.”

The standoff continued for another few minutes, until, exasperated, she blurted,

“His name is Dorian!”

“Dorian. As in Dorian Gray?”

She rolled her eyes. “How funny.”

He took out his phone and asked, “Does Dorian have a last name?”

“Are you seriously going to Google him?”

“Absolutely I will. Since you didn’t.”

“I am not telling you.”

“Fine,” he shrugged. “I’ll await Dorian’s arrival and have a man-to-man talk with him,”

She paled.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Watch me.”

She glared at him, and then sneered, “Why don’t you invite Lorcan too! And Rowan. So the three of you can stand here, in your freaky silent vigil and glare at him, to scare him off.”

“Good idea.”

She shrugged, “And when Dorian comes here, you three can tower over him.”

“Why? Is he tiny?” Azriel snorted.

She rolled her eyes and then thrust her foot into her other heel, finally. As she tied it around her ankle, she muttered angrily, “so disappointed in you,”

“Get in line,” he snapped.

“Adarlan,”

“What?”

“His last name is Adarlan.”

Azriel immediately typed the name into the phone.

A pretty white boy. Columbia. Pre-law.

Figures.

Of course, someone like that would want someone like Elain. And she’d want him in return. Pretty, proper. Pathetic.

“Satisfied?” she rose to her full height. Her cheeks were flushed, brown eyes gleaming with anger and challenge.

She was so beautiful and so annoyed with him, Azriel was blinded by her, by her light, her spirit.

“Not for a while,” he said blandly and shrugged.

That made her redden. Not the blush of anger. Her sexy blush.

So, he went for it.

“Call it off,” he begged.

“What?”

“Call it off. Please.”

“Why?”

Because you are mine.

He wanted to tell her. To explain.

But did he deserve her? All that light and goodness? Perhaps, pretty boy Dorian was indeed more appropriate.

“Because,” he began and then heard a car pull up behind him.

Steps.

He didn’t turn around.

“Elain.”

“Dorian.”

Her face lit up with a smile.

“Ready?”

She nodded. “Just let me grab my bag.”

When she disappeared, Azriel turned around at last.

Dorian was good looking, tall, thin. Young. Looked like a kid, though Azriel figured that he wasn’t much younger than him. But Azriel’s lived about 540 years by now…at least that’s how it felt, and Dorian—Dorian probably had many girlfriends, many friends, and daddy’s money.

He was about as interesting as a bag of beans.

They stared at each other.

Azriel didn’t give a shit.

He didn’t care about anything, other than this is what Elain chose. This Dorian may end up holding Elain’s hand. Perhaps going in for a kiss. That sensuous weak mouth may touch Elain’s perfect lips—the lips that Azriel only dreamt of kissing. And what if it went further?

What if,

No.

Elain was not a ‘first date sex’ kind of girl. Never. Not his Elain.

“Treat her well,” he growled a warning.

Dorian blinked.

“What?”

“Treat. Elain. Well.”

“Who are you?”

“Consider me her brother-in-law.”

“Oh. Okay. Alright. Sure, man. Yeah.”

Fucking intellectual powerhouse.

“I am one of many,”

“Many what?” Dorian asked in confusion.

“Many brothers-in-law. And they all look like me. Some are even bigger.”

“Ready?!” Elain chirped.

“Um, yeah,” Dorian’s eyes darted back and forth.

Azriel finally gave up and crossed his arms on his chest.

“Have fun you two,” he said sweetly.

“Thank you. I’ll see you at Rhys’s pool party on Saturday,” Elain acted like everything was normal.

“Sure. Bring Dorian along,” Azriel jerked his chin. “We’ll be delighted to have him.”

Elain

“He is a charmer,” Dorian finally exhaled once they were inside the car.

She grunted in response.

“Does he have enough tattoos?” he started to reverse. “Oh, look, a Ferrari,”

“It’s his,” she bit the inside of her cheek, glancing quickly at the unmoving figure under the awning.

“His? What is he? A drug dealer?”

“Dorian!” she snapped. She was so on edge, she sat on her shaking hands the moment she buckled up.

“Sorry. Sorry. But really, do you want me to,”

She interrupted,

“What? Are you offering to beat him up?”

“I mean,”

“Dorian. He is a Navy Seal,” she said bluntly. “His bicep is the circumference of my head. His buddies are all pushing 6”7 in height and are all former Navy Seals. I am just saying. You aren’t taking him on.”

Dorian didn’t feel the need to disagree.

Azriel

Elain was his home. She was his happy place. His joy.

Her smile made everything better.

When she touched him--his fingers, his cheek—that touch carried more sensual promise than anything he’d ever experienced. And he’d experienced plenty.

Azriel’s only brush with love was when he was 18 and it was right before Morgana fucked Cassian, lost her virginity to him and got pregnant by him. He wondered if that’s what fucked him up, turned him off love for this past decade. Ploughing through endless bodies felt good, though he was usually left with the feeling of residual emptiness and longing. But he accepted it.

Elain though. He didn’t plough into Elain. Never even so much as seen her breast. And yet, his head was filled with her. Images, both erotic and mundane floated through his brain constantly. Elain’s eyes lighting up when he called her ‘baby’. Elain tasting a pastry, in her own special way, sometimes dipping her finger into the cream, and driving him wild. Elain reclining her golden head on the seat of his car, eyes closed. Elain being a little drill master when it came to arranging flowers, absolutely unperturbed by the idea of ordering Rowan and Cassian and Fen around.

That Elain was offering her smile, her time, her attention to that pretty prick Dorian was just intolerable.

If he could, he would actually climb the walls. But Azriel couldn’t climb walls, even if parkour-loving Fenrys would probably teach him how. Therefore, he went back to the shop, where Nuala was just packing up for the day.

“I need your car,” he demanded.

“We are in a garage,” she reminded him reasonably, but nevertheless tossed her keys to him. He caught them with one hand and said, “I owe you one.”

“You owe me like fifty…but who is counting?”

Nuala didn’t know why he needed her car, but she did know that he was beyond pining, at this point. He was in full love mode. As in LOVE. Capital letters, heart palpitations, sleepless nights, acting-like-a-drug-addict LOVE. Who would have thought? Not only that Azriel would fall in love at all, but that it would be with Elain.

Azriel got into Nuala’s ordinary Acura, drove to Elain’s apartment, and kept vigil the very same way she told him he would.

At this point, he didn’t care at all. He sat and waited in his shadows. Waiting like this—he learned this level of patience back in the Navy, during his recon missions—suited him, and his personality. Lorcan and he could sit like this for hours. Days. They weren’t bothered at all. Cassian and Fenrys would whine, complain and bounce like little children.

Shadows were his friends, as they’d always been, since he was a boy and hid from his abusive father. They protected him then, and concealed him now.

Finally, at an acceptable, and slightly boring, 11:23 pm, Dorian’s generic Audi pulled up.

There was no way that either of them would spot him, or assume that he was around.

Dorian opened the door for Elain, and she stepped out. They talked. She smiled. Then laughed.

It all grated on Azriel’s nerves. Go inside! He wanted to shout to her.

Then, Dorian made a move. Azriel tensed, when the pretty boy reached his hand out and ran his knuckles over Elain’s bare shoulder. The hand stopped entirely too close to her breast, as he squeezed her upper arm, holding her close. If Azriel sensed even the tiniest expression of discomfort from her, he’d be flying out of the car in a snap.

They talked some more, that gross hand still resting on Elain’s arm. But then, she opened her arms and Azriel grimaced. No way. No way was she going for a kiss.

And thank all the gods above, but she only hugged him, and not a close hug either—but that awkward, butts-out, shoulders pressed together weird hug. Something males typically gave each other, so careful to avoid any penile interaction. Then she walked to her building and gave Dorian a little wave. He hopped in his car and drove away.

What a prick. Didn’t even wait for her to get inside.

But she stood still, door unopened, keys in her fingers. And then, she peered into the darkness. A long, penetrating gaze. Aimed right at him. Like she saw through the shadows. She looked and looked, and he melted in the shadows, into the darkness of the car.

And then she flipped him off, and walked inside.

Elain

Piled into Lorcan’s Range Rover, it was Elain ad Elide, Lorcan and Connall in the car.

It was a nice day for a pool party, for a long drive to the Hamptons, for enjoying the sunshine.

Elain was having none of it.

She hated this idea to begin with—pool parties—which were full of too-rich and affected young people, prancing around in skimpy underwear. The women too perfect. The men, full of unreasonable expectations.

Feyre and Morrigan liked this crap, Cassian too, Aelin—certainly.

All the people with their perfect bodies and big hair and bigger personalities.

This Range Rover was like the car for outcasts.

Lorcan looked like he wanted to be at a pool party as much as he wanted to have a rectal exam. Connall, she was sure, would just sit by the bar and nurse drinks all day long. Elide would always find an escape with Lor, and the two of them would huddle together and make snide comments about the attendees to each other.

Elain sighed.

She was such a stupid, inexcusably dumb, fucking idiot.

“Do you know why Az isn’t coming today?” Lorcan looked at her in the mirror.

“Oh?”

She bit inside of her cheek, stifling a pathetic cry.

It shouldn’t have surprised her that Azriel decided not to attend, but she still harbored hope, somewhere inside of her that he would. That they’d be able to talk. That he’d…

Forgive her?

“No, I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“Did you have a fight or something?” Lorcan’s strange black eyes looked at her like they were scraping the edges of her soul. It wasn’t the most comfortable of feelings.

“No.”

She spent the rest of the trip in sullen silence. Even Elide didn’t try to shake her out of her stupor.

As expected, the party was ridiculously over the top.

There were throngs of people milling about, all in various stages of undress. Firm, golden flesh gleamed in the sunlight.

There were three bars—one for beer, one for cocktails and one for everything else. An ice cream station. A s’mores station. Wagyu beef sliders. Lobster hot dogs. Jamon Iberico. Wheels of Parmigiano Reggiano.

Deep down, Elain was grateful that she’d never be this wealthy.

She was happy with her flowers, her shop, and she was considering opening a pastry shop down the road. And then Azriel had his wonderful garage, but successful as it was, it wasn’t on the Darling level of wealth…And that was alright. It was perfectly enough, too much even,

She stopped.

She should’ve just told him. Everything. A long time ago. But the intensity of her own feelings towards him frightened her, and then…she fucked it all up.

She meandered absently around the premises, listening to Feyre’s and Nesta’s screeching from the pool, where both were perched on the shoulders of their respective lovers, whacking each other and others with long plastic poles. Mor and her new girlfriend were making out passionately in a hammock. Fenrys was swarmed by a bevy of busty beauties. And so on…

She was feeling foolish and exposed in her pink bikini, wishing she had a wrap or something. Her body was no worse than all of these other girls’, but she couldn’t help but compare herself to them. They were confident. Exciting. Entertaining. They flirted and laughed loudly. They had sparkly teeth and giant lips.

She didn’t know how to flirt, and wasn’t glamorous or polished like them.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone? Without a drink?”

A man sidled over, his bold eyes roaming about her body, assessing.

“I am fine, thank you,” she made to get away and walk towards the pool, but he thrust an insistent hand in front of her, holding a drink.

“Come on, sugar. Join me.”

Sugar?

And then, there were four of them. Five.

None were threatening, but being surrounded by so many men, while basically naked was outside of Elain’s comfort zone. They were joking, laughing, chugging their beers. She didn’t know any of them.

“So, who are you?” asked one of them.

“A guest.”

She angled her body towards the pool, trying to sneak past them.

“A guest? We are guests too! Nice party,”

“It is. Pardon me, I have to go,”

“But why?”

One of them caught her hand in his and pulled lightly, grounding her in place.

“Excuse me!” she attempted to withdraw her hand, but he didn’t budge. They herded her a little closer to the house. A sixth man approached, carrying a little tray with tequila shots.

“Where do you got to go, baby?”

Another hand slipped down her back and brushed over her butt, making her jerk.

“What the hell?” she hissed, but her indignation was met with amused smiles.

“Such a pretty girl, all alone. Come, join us,”

“I am not alone!” she snapped angrily.

“Oh no?”

“And who are you with?”

“My fucking boyfriend!” she lied, a little scared now.

“Oh, a boyfriend?” teased one. “And who might that be?”

“Do we know this boyfriend? Where is he?”

She looked around desperately, and then lied again, “He is inside. And coming back, soon.”

Laughter.

“Ohh, I don’t think so. I’ve been watching you for an hour, and there is no boyfriend.”

“I think I need to go,”

“But why!?!”

They goaded, “Tell us about the boyfriend?”

“His name is Azriel Bagarat,” she blurted out.

More laughter. Challenging, condescending laughter.

“Really?”

“Mr. Fancy Garage is your boyfriend?”

“Good one! I almost fell for it.”

“Azriel Bagarat-I-date-a-new-girl-weekly makes for a bad boyfriend, honey,”

“You aren’t exactly his type.”

Tears threatened to pour out of her eyes, and she was horrified by her body’s reaction to the taunting.

She threw, “and what type is that?”

“He doesn’t go for squeaky clean girls like you.”

“Maybe it’s an experiment!” laughed one of them. “He is into all sorts of fucking kink. Maybe he is wetting his cock in some virgin flesh,”

“Are you even legal?”

“You look awfully young.”

At this point, Elain was not above screaming for Lorcan, or Rowan, or anyone else. Her looking weak and pathetic was the least of her concerns.

For a moment, the teasing and the laughter died down. One of them exclaimed, “Oh hey. There you are!”

Fuck. Another one.

The scent hit her first. The sharp, intoxicating smell of his expensive Armani cologne. She’d recognize it anywhere. That hint of cedar and a chilled night air. That was him. Her home.

And then, the familiar dark arm slipped across her stomach, tugging her firmly to his front. Another hand slid to her throat, laying on it, but not squeezing. He held her tenderly, close to him, possessively.

“I missed my girl,” he whispered, his gravelly, husky voice so familiar to her ear it sent a shiver down her spine.

Why couldn’t it be like this forever? Her in his arms? Forever?

“My gorgeous girlfriend always brings all the boys to the yard,” he chuckled. And then, to Elain’s utter delight and pleasure, he placed a warm, open mouthed kiss on the side of her neck.

She shuddered.

He’d never kissed her. Never intimately. Never kissed her like this.

His. She was his. And he just marked his territory.

It was glorious. To be kissed by him was something that she’d dreamt of and here it was—unexpected, sensuous, surprisingly erotic.

His thumb stroked the side of her throat, and then he leaned in and kissed her again. Same spot. Her bare vulnerable throat, her pale neck, his for the taking. She had no control of the situation, and she loved it.

“Thank you for keeping my girlfriend company, gentlemen, but I’ll take it from here.”

Not so brave anymore, in the face of this towering mass of muscle and tattoos, the men sheepishly offered him a shot, which he knocked back and then even attempted to high-five him, though he drew the line at that.

As they scampered away, Azriel did not release Elain from his embrace. She just stood there, with his arm around her, her body pressed into his almost-naked body and all she wanted was to turn around and peek. Or have him kissed her again. She really, really wanted him to kiss her again.

He did not though.

Finally, his arm fell away and he stepped back, causing a sorrowful sigh to erupt in her chest.

She turned around. His face was unreadable, as always, and though she picked out his little tells and signs of emotions now, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Thank you,” was all she could mutter. He didn’t answer. “I didn’t think you were coming,”

“No need to talk,” he cut her off. Then turned around and added, “feel free to leave with Lorcan or Cass.”

He was walking away when she called out, “Wait. Az. I want to talk. Please,”

“No,” he said simply.

She ran after him, trying to keep up with his long stride.

“Az, please, I need to,”

“It’s Azriel to you,” he corrected bluntly. “You don’t get to ‘Az’ me,”

She swallowed, tears stinging her eyes.

“Okay…okay,” she begged. “Azriel, I want to explain, please,”

“You don’t always get what you want,” he threw back.

She paused, but then added,

“But sometimes, you get what you need.”

A tiny smile twitched on his lips. But he schooled his face into neutrality and without turning to her, said,

“If you must tag along for the rest of the day, pretending like you are my girlfriend, it’s up to you,” he shrugged indifferently.

She didn’t care. At least he didn’t send her away. At least, she could be near him, and with time, she’d thaw his anger.

She followed him silently, like dog. Trying to be inconspicuous, but she stayed at his side, even if they didn’t talk and he continuously ignored her. It allowed her time to ogle his incredible body, which she did with relish and without shame. If he was going to be nasty to her, she at least would feast her eyes on all that muscular gorgeousness. Those Cadre men—they were all stunning, at least when it came to their physiques. Azriel, though, was a little more stunning than the others. Only Fenrys, perhaps, was at the same level of attractiveness.

They went to the bar and she followed him faithfully, not letting him out of her sight. He glanced at her, sighed, shaking his head with annoyance, but Azriel being Azriel, he ordered her a mojito, while he drank Sipsmith London Gin and tonic, and after a while, thrust the drink in her hand and muttered, “I am going swimming.”

She took it and sat on a chair, stiff-backed and patient, watching him.

When he emerged from the water, she was waiting for him with a fresh drink.

“Your tattoos look like wings.”

He rubbed a towel over the black and blue tattoos on his shoulders and arms and looked at her.

“Your tattoos,” she said again, watching his wet body and the markings on it come alive on his skin. When he was in the pool, and his arms rose and fell in the water, they looked like wings. “They look like wings. Bat wings.”

“Is that a compliment?” his voice was still cold, bored.

“Yes.”

She handed him his drink and then took his scarred hand in hers. He made to pull away, but she squeezed.

“You are my boyfriend,” she reminded him. “Would be strange if you didn’t want to hold my hand.”

He had no choice but to grip her hand back,

and fuck if it didn’t feel nice.

Two days, and he was going nuts without that little hand. Two days, and he’d missed her touch like it was his life’s necessity.

And then, she gently rubbed her thumb over his own.

“Stop that,” he ordered.

“No,” she said flatly.

“Elain,”

“Azriel,”

“It’s not going to work,” he warned.

She shrugged, “we’ll see.”

They took a few more steps, her thumb still stroking his fingers, and then he stopped abruptly.

“What do you want?”

She looked up at him and said, voice surprisingly firm, “I want to get into your car and drive home with you. I want to cook you dinner. I want to hold your hand. That’s what I want.”

“And what do I want?”

“You want the same thing,” she assured him, unusual confidence in her voice and on her face.

He watched her, unblinking, but she did not balk from his assessing gaze, did not step back. She just clutched his hand like life depended on it. His jowls twitched and he bit his lip, before says, “go and put some clothes on. We are going home.”

“No. Come with me,” she tugged him with her. “I don’t trust you.”

He smiled, at last, and her heart fluttered with joy at the sight of that magical smile.

They found their clothes, threw them atop the bathing suits and as soon as they were dressed, Azriel took her by the hand and led her out to the parking lawn. It was a Maserati Ghibli today, beautifully embellished with subtle pinstripes. No one would dare do this to their 90K car, but Azriel did. And it looked stunning.

The drive wasn’t comfortable.

He still wasn’t speaking to her and she just sat there, for an hour or more, in silence, hands on her lap.

Finally, once they began approaching the city, Elain asked, “where are you taking me?”

“Home,” was all he said, his first word since they got in the car.

She thought and said, “I don’t want to go home.”

His voice mocking and obsequious, he asked, “Please tell me, Elain, where should your personal Uber take you? Would you like a coffee? A snack? A walk in the park? A trip to the library? Should I deliver you into Dorian’s loving embrace?”

“Stop it,” she snapped at him, all red and angry. “Stop with all that!”

Azriel plowed forth, ignoring her command, “where was he today, by the way? Why was I stuck rescuing the damsel in distress? Where is brave Dorian?”

“Nobody asked you to rescue me!” she lied, suddenly realizing that maybe, that kiss meant nothing to him. That it was all for show.

“Yeah, you looked like you were handling that situation very well,” he decided dryly.

“You know,” she folded her arms on her chest, “do take me home.”

“Good.”

Once they entered the city proper, Azriel fought the traffic aggressively, swearing under his breath more frequently than usual, obviously intend on getting rid of her as soon as possible.

She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t break through. Couldn’t get to him, not around the walls that he’d constructed around himself. She thought that she could, but she was wrong.

Finally, they were coming towards her block.

The silence was stifling. Unbearable.

“Why did you do it?” he blurted suddenly.

She looked at him, but before she could offer any explanations or excuses, he continued, not looking at her, “Was I not enough? Was he better?”

“He is nothing,” she managed, desperation tinging her voice, her whole being. She reached out to touch him, but he jerked his arm away.

“Don’t,” he warned. “Nothing? Why would you do this, Elain? Was I not enough? Too weird? Too brown? Too low-born? Too fucked up?”

Elain stared at him in horror. She was numb. Words failed her.

He was shaking his head.

There was true sadness, dejection written on his face. Devastation.

“I was falling in love with you, Elain,” he said so softly, she barely heard the words. “For three months, I’ve been falling in love with you. I’ve loved everything about you. I knew that the hammer would drop…One day, it would drop because it’s not like this could ever be,” he made a wide gesture with his hand.

He stopped the car next to her house.

“But I thought that it would be me. That I’d fuck up somehow and you’d dump me. Which would be…expected…”

He sighed, his breath so ragged it sounded like a sob.

“But I didn’t expect this. Truly. Though looking back, I don’t know why I didn’t?” he shrugged. “That’s what Mor did—the only other one I thought that I loved. But we were young and stupid, so…” he was looking out the window, seemingly talking to himself, not to her anymore. “But now I am almost thirty and for once, I thought that maybe, just maybe, this one time, I’d get what I want.”

Elain was weeping silently, fat tears pouring onto her hands, dripping off her face.

“I wanted you more than anything, Elain.”

Elain. Elain. Elain.

She hated that he called her Elain.

She hated that he didn’t use his usual endearments with her, that she was no longer his ‘baby’ nor his ‘love’. She wasn’t his ‘gorgeous’ or his ‘beautiful’. She was just Elain.

There was no warmth in his voice. Only some kind of hollowed emptiness, instead of the usual teasing smirk, the undercurrent of humour and love, of tender softness that he always used with her. Only with her.

“You can have me,” she managed finally through her sobs. “You can ha--…”

He finally turned his head and looked at her, that gaze dark and pitiless.

“I am not sure I want you anymore. We’ll coordinate the wedding situation and we’ll be civil to each other, for Feyre and Rhys’s sakes. Goodbye Elain.”

She sat there. He waited. Then, with a groan, he got out and went to open the door for her.

As she stepped out of the car, she begged one more time, “Azriel. Please. Please just allow me the opportunity to talk to you,” she wiped her face, with her fist.

It destroyed him completely.

He didn’t know what to do with himself, as he tracked her movement, that childish, simple, raw flick of her fist over her eyes. It wasn’t the modelled, reserved, dab-the-eye practiced move that you saw on reality shows, the fake tears, the faux sadness.

This was Elain; sorrowful, devastated, begging.

“Please,” she pleaded again.

“I asked you to call it off,” he reminded her. “I begged you. You didn’t.”

She choked on a sob.

“You threw it in my face, Elain. This random man, whom you also led on, by the way. Led him believe that you were interested. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I am too old for this…Allow me the opportunity to just deal with this break up—or whatever it is—however I can. We both need to move on.”

He’d never left a crying woman on a sidewalk.

But he’d also never been in love before. And his heart had never been broken like this.

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

Azriel

Nuala Gennaro has been trying to reach her boss for three days, to no avail.

He didn’t respond to texts, or to calls. He didn’t show up to work. He wasn’t at the garage, at the tattoo shop, or his design studio. He didn’t seem to be home either, because she drove by his loft a few times and the windows remained dark.

She had keys to his house, but that was a violation of privacy that she didn’t feel like engaging in just yet. Was this an emergency? He gave her the key for ‘emergencies’. Was this one? A healthy, 29-year-old handsome man disappearing for three days didn’t seem like an emergency, but still, Nuala was concerned.

She was going to give him one more day, and if he was still AWOL then she’d begin to worry.

Azriel was responsible. Whatever was happening in his life typically did not reflect on his work ethic. Besides, he was usually so guarded and seemingly unemotional, it was hard to say if he was affected by anything. Nuala had met him in high school—a beautiful, quiet, mysterious boy who looked like a fallen angel and who seemed unusually confident and astute for his age.

They reconnected after he and his brothers returned from the Navy. He was darker and quieter than she remembered, and hardened in his manner and bearing, and had a haunted look in his eyes which worried Nuala for quite some time. She’d been apprenticing as a tattoo artist and they’d met to discuss her joining his venture. She wasn’t sure if this whole garage/restaurant/tattoo parlour for rich people thing was going to be feasible or even realistic, but Azriel believed in the concept and somehow, got her enflamed by his passion as well. They’d slept together over the years, but even if she would have wanted more, he wasn’t willing to give it to her. Azriel went through women with the determination to conquer, mild interest and lack of follow up. But he never gave any of himself to them. Pleasure—yes. Self—no. So, Nuala had decided—staying with him and in his life, in his business, as his protég�� and associate was more important than having him as a lover, even if he was by far the best lover she’d ever had.

The only thing that did seem to affect him—deeply, powerfully—was Elain Archeron.

Nuala didn’t think that it would happen. Didn’t think that Azriel was a man to fall in love so passionately, so completely, and even if he was denying it to himself, Nuala knew him well enough to know the truth. And whatever happened between him and Elain, approximately a week ago or so, truly devastated him.

Prior to his disappearance, he operated as if he was in some sort of fog. He answered questions, he gave instructions and directions, he did whatever was expected of him—met with clients, held meetings with his car suppliers, negotiated deals—but his heart was not in it. His beloved business was no longer his priority, and that confounded Nuala, for she had never seen him like this before.

She arrived early, earlier than usual, because she needed to get crackin’. Without Azriel, things seemed…tighter…more difficult. She’d never noticed it, but somehow, he carried this business, made it seem easy, and she falsely believed that it was a walk in the park. Gods, it wasn’t! It was busy, and difficult, and required constant attention and decision making, and reports only piled on her desk—financials, inventory, guest lists, requests, specs. It was endless.

Azriel’s office, a glass cube perched at the top of the building and overlooking everything below, the entire operation, was very dimply lit this early morning. Cassian installed one-way floor to ceiling windows in the office, so no one could look inside, but Azriel was able to see everything, if he so desired.

Nuala climbed the industrial-style stairs and opened the door without knocking.

At first, she thought that there was a fire. The office was entirely engulfed in smoke, but before she could hit the alarm button, nauseatingly pungent stench of tobacco assaulted her nostrils.

“What the hell?!” she exclaimed, rubbing her eyes, and rushing to open the outside windows. She left the door open as well, to encourage some sort of ventilation.

“What the hell,” she muttered again, finally making out Azriel in the dimness, who was sprawled on the leather sofa, in jeans and boots and a black t-shirt, his arm hanging listlessly to the floor, a cigarette between his fingers. On the floor, an almost empty bottle of Jameson’s and an overflowing ashtray, stuffed to the brim with butts. Tom Waits’s insanely gravelly, bourbon-and-tobacco-soaked voice filled the space as well.

“Wow,” she crossed her arms on her chest. “Wow.”

“Why are you here so early?” he asked by way of greeting.

“Funny thing—my boss disappeared for three days. Four days, actually. No word. No text. No call. No email. No warning. No idea whether he is dead or alive. So yes, it’s made for some early mornings for some of us.”

No answer.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette and said nothing.

“What the fuck, Az?”

“Like you said,” he shrugged indifferently, “I am the boss. I don’t have to report to anyone.”

Nuala bit her lip, but did not retort in the way she wanted to retort.

“Where were you?” she inquired calmly.

“Vegas.”

“Vegas?”

“Rhys’s Bachelor Party.”

“Oh.”

“I won money. It’s somewhere,” he glanced around absently. “Give it to some charity…”

“Which one?”

“I don’t care.”

“Fine.”

She didn’t push him. But added, “you can’t smoke here.”

“It’s my shop,”

“Even though. State and city regulations.”

He put out his cigarette compliantly.

“It’s 5 am. When did you start drinking?” she asked, pointing to the bottle.

He gave a lazy glance and shrugged,

“Technically, I didn’t stop drinking…It’s been a few hours…”

She was shaking her head.

He stared into the ceiling blindly, wordlessly.

Nuala didn’t know, but she also knew. So she took pity on him.

“Az,”

“I’d like to be alone now.”

“I will leave you alone,” she promised. “But…” she let out a whoosh of air, preparing herself. “Elain,”

He didn’t react.

“Elain is downstairs.”

To that he did react. He sat up so quickly, she didn’t track the movement with her eyes.

“I found her on the steps, outside,” said Nuala. “She looks like hell. I barely recognized her.”

“Why is she here?” he asked stupidly.

“I think you should probably ask her that. She wouldn’t come inside,” Nuala explained. “She said that she’s been sitting outside since 4 am, hoping to catch you.”

But Azriel was already out the door, sprinting down the stairs, making Nuala gasp, as he took three at a time, and she feared that he’d fall down on the concrete floor and break every bone in his body.

It was only five in the morning, and the streets, even NYC streets, were empty.

It was drizzling, a summer thunderstorm about to erupt.

Elain was sitting on the doorstep, arms wrapped around her knees, huddling into herself in the morning chill.

“Elain,”

She jumped up and turned to him.

He never saw her like this—wrecked. Utterly devastated. Wilted.

His lovely flower girl, his little rose, his darling beauty—wilted. Instead of her usual colouring of pink and golden, caramel and honey and cream, she looked black and white. Like everything was leeched out of her, every spark, all joy, each remarkable hue.

They did not greet each other. She just looked at him, and,

“I’ve hurt you,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady, the tone firm. “I know that. And you can leave and discard me, and you have every right,”

Azriel just stood there, looking at her, unable to get enough. Thinking that there was a possibility that this was going to be one of their last conversations. And that possibility was unacceptable to him. It was intolerable.

The rain began to fall.

Azriel moved under the awning, angling his body so she would come and stand under it as well, but she didn’t move.

Steady droplets pounded the pavement, giving off that fresh smell of wet asphalt. The air was heavy and humid and felt unsettled, like it was preparing for a torrent.

“But know this one thing,” she continued, staring at him, unblinking, eyes brimming with tears. “I fell in love with you on Saturday, May 9th, at 7:14 in the morning. I had loved you every moment of my life since then. I will love you every moment of my life until I die. Nothing will ever change that. I don’t speak to you as some besotted, inexperienced girl, who is smitten by a handsome man…I speak to you from my soul. You have my heart, Azriel. Every broken and sad piece of me, you’ve managed to put together with your beautiful, scarred hands. I will never ask for anything of you—not even a word back, but I needed you to know this. I want you know that I’ve never loved anyone, no man, no being, not my sisters or my parents, as much as I love you. All my joy, my peace, my dreams are connected to you. You are the first thing I think of when I wake up, and the last when I fall asleep—and then I dream of you. I don’t care if you know this, but I’ve built up my whole life around you in my head, all my fantasies are about you. All I want is to love you. That is all. Not very ambitious, I know,” she wiped the tears that were flooding her face, mixing with the rain, “but I can’t think of anything that would ever bring me more happiness, more satisfaction than to love you. And…” she choked a quiet sob, “if you don’t want me—that is alright…I want you to be happy. And if I don’t make you happy, then, so be it, but,”

Azriel couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t contain his bursting breath, his aching heart. Every bit of him felt electrified, wild, untamed.

He grabbed her, his arm pressing her soaking wet body to him, the rain pouring over them, and she trembled and sobbed next to him. Such indescribable hope in her eyes. That maybe, just maybe, it would all turn out like her fantasies.

He cupped her wet, pale face in his palm and murmured,

“You want me?”

Her trembling fingers traced his cheekbone and she nodded mutely.

“Say it,” he groaned.

“I want you,” she whispered.

“Say more,” he begged. “Say everything.”

“I love you. I choose you. I want you.”

He soaked it all up. Every breath. Every word. Every emotion on her face.

“Well,” he muttered, “if we are keeping score…then I fell in love with you on Tuesday, May 5th, at 4:47 in the afternoon.”

She laughed through her tears, clutching at him with desperate hands, as if fearing that he would disappear. Turn around and leave her.

But he wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

He was exactly where he wanted to be. Yearned to be all his life.

“First glance, baby,” he lovingly caressed her face, “first glance. Love at first sight.”

She kissed the tips of his fingers.

“You are my home, Elain,” he wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him, her cheek pressed to his chest, his hand cradling her head, “my favourite person in my life. With you, all things are possible. Sometimes, I feel like I can fly. Like I’ve grown wings and I hear the song of the wind. But I think that it’s just your voice in my head. You won’t leave, right?”

She chuckled and shook her head, “No. Never.”

“Because this week,” he shuddered, “it’s like I lost a limb…There was this phantom reminder of you, always within me, and yet, you weren’t there. I couldn’t reach and find you next to me. I’ve never felt such emptiness,” he brought her hand to his chest and lay it on her booming heart, “there was nothing here,” he pressed her hand closer, and she felt the steady beat, “empty…You weren’t with me, and there was nothing left.

“I think I’ve been in love with you—forever. I don’t even believe in past lives or other worlds, but sometimes I feel like I’ve known you for eternity.”

She raised her face to him, surprise and awareness in her red-rimmed eyes,

“I feel the same. Az, I’ve always felt the same thing!”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” she nodded vigorously, “when we held hands the first time, when we just met, I recognized your touch. I knew your scars. It was all familiar to me, like stepping back into my own home, after a long absence. Reacquainting myself with something that I already loved.”

He cupped her face in his hands and asked,

“May I kiss you?”

“You have to kiss me,” she smiled a happy, luminous smile at him. “I’ve waited for a long time for you to kiss me.”

Azriel smiled, and looked up, rain drenching his face and their bodies.

“Are we really going to do this? In the pouring rain?”

She was grinning, smiling happily, nodding, “All the cliches in the world!”

He clasped her jaw in his hand, wrapping his other arm tighter about her.

“I loved when you kissed me at the party,” she admitted, a little breathless.

“Yes?” he murmured and then dipped his head, and gently pressed his lips to her throat.

Elain shuddered against him, her breasts, nicely full, round and soft pressed tightly against his chest, and she sighed her pleasure.

“Like that?” he whispered against her cold, wet skin, and she half-moaned, nodding. So he kissed her neck again, on the other side, raking his teeth gently along the warm, pulsating vein. He kissed along her collarbones, tender and sweet, but with acute intention. Her breasts moved against his chest, their shirts nor her bra providing much of a barrier between his skin and her firm, swollen nipples.

Up her throat he went with his lips, kissing softly, until he pulled away for a moment, their breaths mingling, warm next to each other. He tilted her face just so, to have better access to her full mouth, and then kissed the plump lower lip. She clutched at his shirt and pulled him closer, the rain forgotten, the world encapsulated in his mouth, in the loving pressure of his lips against hers.

Elain looked irresistible. In his arms, where, let’s face it, she belonged, with her cheeks finally, finally taking on the familiar rosy blush.

Azriel, all 6”4 or “5 of the dark, bestial sexiness of him was wrapped around her. The low, sensual purr that he emitted turned into something more primal, hungrier when his mouth moulded into hers. The base, animalistic attractiveness of him, the bronze arms, the thick markings of his tattoos all over his skin, slithering like shadows, was almost too much for Elain to handle all at once, and she moaned, loud, and desperate against his lips. He brushed his nose against her cheek, and then nose to nose, and she was so stupidly needy for him that she struggled to stay upright. He brushed his fingertips over her lips, squeezing them between his and her own, and she licked on the pad of his thumb, laving some of the scars with the tip of her tongue.

Gods, this man could kiss.

Brutal, savage and noble--all amalgamated into one indescribable, unforgettable experience. Hungry and knowing, agonizingly slow, he devoured her mouth like it was some succulent, exotic fruit that he’s been craving. His lips explored her thoroughly, unhurriedly, tasting and savouring, caressing and worshipping. It was she who slipped her tongue inside his mouth, tentatively at first, but then gaining in boldness and confidence, especially once he sucked her in and stroked it with his own. He tasted of something masculine: alcohol, maybe, deep and rich and smokey, and tobacco, certainly, which, surprisingly, she enjoyed, but also something sexual. If Elain ever thought that she could taste passion, this lazy, indulgent sucking of his tongue on hers was exactly that. He groaned into her mouth, low and hot, and then licked on her tongue, with sensual playfulness which she loved.

She was hot in his arms, against his towering, heated body, and even the pouring rain couldn’t cool her off. The slabs of his abdominal muscles pressed into her belly and she was growing positively addicted to having him so close to her, his massive strength enveloping her so nicely, cushioning her against him. Nothing in her life has ever felt so wonderful, so sublime as Azriel felt in her arms.

Their kiss went on and on, heady and glorious, with him exploring every bit of her mouth with his tongue and lips, his hands caressing her body unobtrusively.

“Gods, I want to kiss you for eternity,” he moaned, tearing himself away from her lips at last.

She was panting, glassy-eyed, in love. He squeezed her face between his palms, looking down at her, her happiness, the unabashed joy in her eyes.

He’d finally made someone happy.

“Okay,” she agreed easily.

He smiled and kissed her again, then again, his lips creating a certain magic between his mouth and her skin and their bodies.

Elain had fought for him.

She didn’t give up. Didn’t shrug it all off. Didn’t leave in anger or panic. His absence meant something to her—perhaps, meant more than he could understand. He knew the misery of not having her in his life. It was only a week, but it was a week of pure hell. Now, he assumed that it wasn’t only he who felt that gaping chasm in his heart. She, for some inexplicable reason, loved him. Of that, he was certain.

“Now, I think we’ve satisfied any girl’s quota of romantic cheesiness,” he decided and she laughed, slapping his bicep lightly. He kissed her softly, “and I am taking you inside,” he said.

Elain only now realized that her feet haven’t been touching the asphalt for the duration of the kiss. She was literally floating aboveground, in his arms, in the throes of their first kiss.

The cheesiness quotient has been achieved indeed.

“Will you kiss me more?” she asked, as he swung her in his arms and carried her inside the shop.

“I am confident that I will never stop kissing you,” he assured and made his way up the stairs, to the office, clutching the dripping mess that she was in his arms.

She’s been here before, but he brought her straight into the attached bathroom, which was appointed outlandishly, and with a nice shower too.

“Get in there,” he ordered, “now. Before you catch a cold because of your love for kissing in the rain,”

She giggled, kiss-drunk and toed off her soaking wet converse that smacked limply on the tiled floor.

“But what am I going to wear?”

“My clothes, obviously,” he shrugged. “Unless you don’t want to, which is fine, because naked is just fine by me. Actually, preferred,”

She snickered, but looked at him, a little uncertain, and he rolled his eyes and muttered, “yes, yes, I will leave! Don’t worry. Though you know, I will eventually see everything anyway. So your modesty is misplaced on me.”

Azriel was correct. A hot shower was perfect. Despite it being late August, standing under pouring rain wasn’t as much fun as they made it seem in the movies.

The door opened and he came in, “here is some stuff for you.”

She looked at him over her shoulder, probably a little sultrier than she intended, and he winked, “Nice ass!”

“Ugh, stop looking!” she croaked, but he only laughed.

“You are the one with the bare butt!”

Then, he scratched his chin and bit his lip, making no move to leave.

“Az!” she exclaimed, blushing, but also kind of … intrigued.

“This is a very, very, very nice ass,” he muttered to himself, but loud enough for her to hear. Her blush only intensified, when he said, “the things I am going to do with it. Mmmm,” he rubbed his lower lip with his thumb, as if contemplating what he will be doing with her butt and then finally walked out, shaking his head.

When Elain emerged from the bathroom, with her hair wrapped in the towel and wearing Azriel’s t-shirt and shorts, she found him in a leather chair, sipping coffee. He’d also changed and his hair was mussed and damp, his bare feet crossed at the ankles, resting on a leather stool.

“There is coffee for you,” he jerked his chin towards a marble coffee table that had a basket of pastries and two large cups of coffee.

He marked everything.

How she looked in his clothes, which were much too big on her, yet cozy, though the shorts that she wore were hilarious, reaching below her knee.

How she brought him his coffee first, before taking her cup.

How she sat on the stool, by his feet and crossed her legs, before giving him a croissant and biting into her own.

“Have you warmed up?” he asked, sipping his coffee. Chugging gallons of coffee American style wasn’t his thing—he preferred quick, small espressos, but this giant cup did take the chill away.

She nodded.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked.

She tensed right away, and he said, “All is forgiven, I swear. “

She eyed him suspiciously, nevertheless.

He smiled at her, and added, “But...I think that I need to understand what happened? Did I do something to,”

“No!” she exclaimed immediately. “No. It was nothing you did. Never think that it was you,”

“Alright,” he said calmly. “Then what was it?”

She didn’t look up from her cup, running a finger over the rim.

“Talk to me, love,” he encouraged softly.

“You’ve consumed me, Azriel,” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “From the moment I saw you, you’ve consumed me. And I guess…” she sighed, “I was stupid…a stupid, stupid person because I didn’t know,”

“What?”

“Whether I was infatuated, or in love with you. So I thought that maybe, if I expose myself to another man, even in some minor way, I might be able to tell what I feel,”

“And? Did you?”

“Dorian…” she swallowed nervously, “he is a nice guy. He is in Law School with Nesta��that’s how I know him. When he asked to go to dinner, and I said yes,”

She looked up at him, tears threatening to spill out from her eyes,

“And I felt nothing,” she admitted, her voice broken somehow. “I could only think of you. The entire time, I could only think of you and I knew that it wasn’t fair to him…”

Azriel agreed, “probably not”.

“And I knew that I’d made a colossal mistake… But,” she set her cup on the floor and squeezed her fingers. “I…”

She halted. Said nothing else.

Azriel waited.

“What?” he probed, sensing that there was something she wasn’t telling him. He reached for her, but she only shrunk into herself.

“Elain, what is it?” he pressed.

She blushed and murmured, “promise me you won’t leave me, if I tell you.”

His brow furrowed, “Please,” he begged, “tell me what’s going? You are legit scaring me right now.”

“You won’t lea--,”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I am not leaving you, no matter what. But are you alright?”

She pulled her hair from the towel and it spilled over her shoulders, half-obscuring her face. He reached and tucked the wet strands behind her ears, so he could see her face.

“Talk to me, baby,” he urged gently.

She exhaled and then said, looking straight at him,

“I’ve never been with a man, Az.”

He looked at her and then blurted, absurdly, “Like a virgin? But you are so hot!”

She couldn’t help and burst out laughing.

“I guess not hot enough,” she shrugged, a bit more relaxed about the situation now that he seemed relieved and smirking too.

He exhaled, deeply, bubbling his lips, “Phew…I thought it was something,” he shook his head, not able to express his relief. “Important…Something, I don’t know, serious?”

“What would be serious?”

“I don’t even know,” he admitted, “but certainly more serious than a hymen!”

He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips.

“And I appreciate you telling me,” he said seriously, kissing the inside of her hand, but then, that glint in his eyes returned and he asked, “so did you want the hunky Dorian to deflower you?”

She pushed at him with her foot and he fell back dramatically in his chair,

“Auuu, you are so unbelievably violent!” he complained, rubbing his side.

“I can be even more violent!” she threatened.

He was laughing, but then he caught her feet in his hands and squeezed them gently, holding them on his lap.

“So you didn’t have boyfriends in high school? In college?” he asked at last, genuinely perplexed.

She sighed and explained,

“In high school I was dating Luce,”

“You were dating a girl?” his brow furrowed. “I didn’t know,”

She started to laugh,

“No! Luce is a man. Lucien,”

“Oh…Oh. Every time you mentioned Luce, I just assumed he was a she.”

“No, he is my best friend. The closest friend I’ve ever had, besides maybe Nesta. We’ve always been close and then in high school, we began dating,” she tugged on her wet hair, “or rather, go on dates.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I didn’t know either—not in the beginning. But then, when we were juniors in 11th grade, he came out, to me only.”

“Ahhh,”

“Lucien’s step-father is really horrible. Like, awful. Physically abusive to all his sons, and always fancied himself this alpha male. So for Lucien to come out to him would have been suicide.

“We agreed that we’d continue our ‘dating’, until we graduate, and Luce was looking at schools only in California. As far as possible from here, from Beron.”

“And you were…okay with it?” he inquired, gently massaging her feet.

She shrugged, “I suppose I was. Luce and I had a good relationship,”

“But it was without any,”

“Intimacy,” she nodded. “I don’t know, I suppose it was enough…My mother had died recently and we lost most of our money, so I guess dating and boyfriends weren’t a priority, if I am being honest.”

He nodded with understanding.

“And college?”

“I had a boyfriend,” her voice wobbled a little, “but he…”

The heavy gaze that Azriel levelled at her told her that he already guessed.

“Sometimes,” she said, “when you are in the situation, you don’t see the warning signs,”

“Did he hit you?” his voice, so cold and menacing, sent a chill down her body.

She shook her head, “No. It didn’t get that far…Cass interfered,”

“Cass?”

“We’ve known Cass for at least a year,” she reminded him, “before he started dating Nesta. He spent a lot of time with us, at the house, because I think he didn’t want to part with Nesta,”

Azriel smiled, “No he didn’t. He wouldn’t stop talking about her for a year…I’d never seen him like that. First Rhys, then Cassian…Guess there is something special about these Archeron sisters,” he decided and stroked her face lovingly, smiling at her. She tucked his palm between her cheek and shoulder and kissed it.

“They do have a tendency to fall in love with the three brothers,” she agreed.

“Yes, they do.”

“Cass, he called us ‘his girls’—Feyre and I. Always asking after ‘his girls’, bringing us presents, doing fun things with us. And I came to love him so much,” she sighed. “And I know that he truly loves us too…But you know Cass—he is a no-nonsense kind of a guy. So once, he observed Graysen with me,”

“Graysen?” Azriel rolled his eyes. “That’s a horrible fucking name,”

She laughed,

“It matched his personality. But you know, on paper, he looked great. Handsome, good family, money,”

“So basically Dorian?”

Elain rolled her eyes,

“You are never going to have me live this down, will you?”

“Not for a while.”

“At least you are honest. Gray, he just…didn’t care, I guess? It was all about him. When I’d talk about opening my shop, it would just be a plain ‘no’. He’s put me down…” she sighed, “sometimes comment on my weight—I was either too fat or too thin.” Azriel flinched at that. She continued, “He’d tell me what to eat. What to wear. Where to go,”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered.

Then, he sat up straight in the chair and opened his arms to her.

“Come here.”

Elain, a bit unsure, and a bit rattled by the memories, moved towards him. He cupped her face in his broad scarred hands and said, “All in the past. Now, it’s just you and me.”

She nodded, gently squeezing his wrists. He leaned in closer and she nodded. His sort of power, the more aggressive and primal, and seemingly more dominant than what Graysen could ever conjure up, did not scare Elain at all. He beckoned and seduced her with that pursuit and challenge, but he did not frighten or oppress. It was similar to what Cassian possessed and how he managed to seduce Nesta with it, turned her compliant to his demand and instruction, or Lorcan with Elide. Azriel’s power, his seduction, were more cerebral, his affection passionate, but controlled. Elain could abandon herself to him, and yet she knew that she’d never be abused or taken advantage of, no matter how much control she relinquished.

This kiss was sultry and voluptuous, and it felt dirtier, heavier than their first one. He sucked her lips, is tongue softly grinding against her in a smouldering, almost smug rhythm. He fucked into her mouth steadily, and purposefully, rendering her completely breathless in his arms almost instantly, forcing all thoughts of previous loves and heartaches out of her head. She made a tiny, strangled noise deep inside her throat and squeezed his wrists harder.

“Tell me things, baby,” he muttered heatedly against her lips, thumbs brushing over her cheeks.

She smiled, “what things would you like to hear?” He kissed her softly, lips pecking on hers playfully, and said, “all the things…all the good things that you told me before,”

“That I love you?” she asked simply, looking at him with earnest, undimming desire.

“Yes,” he groaned, pulling her closer to him, until she was straddling his thighs, her legs naturally falling on either side of him. A desperate moan escaped his lips, as Elain licked on them with the tip of her tongue, before he demanded, between kisses and caresses of his tongue in her parted mouth, “more,”

“I love you. I love you,” she breathed, then panted, “you are mine…I am yours. Forever, if you’d like,”

“I’d like forever,” he agreed.

She pulled away, her soft, lovely face serious,

“Az,”

“Elain,”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” she asked, and he grinned, nodding. She sounded absurdly solemn about this, like she was signing a business contract. “I love you. I want you to be my boyfriend,”

“Alright, babygirl, I will be your boyfriend,” he nodded easily.

“No jokes.”

He then said in turn, “But you’ll be mine.”

She nodded.

“In every way,” he added, in a tone that did not allow space for much argument. “Body,” and he lightly ran his knuckles against the side of her breast, and she nodded. He added, “but I want more,”

“What do you want, Az?”

“Love,” he said simply.

She kissed him. “I love you,” she said.

He waited.

“I chose you, Azriel, the moment I saw you. When my heart dropped at the sight of you, and when everything fell into place. I don’t mind choosing you for the rest of my life, if you have me,” she murmured shyly.

“I will have you,” he agreed, her admission making him swallow hard, a thick glob of air lodged in his throat. He might have cried, if he weren’t so happy. His flower girl. His.

He looked and looked, and considered something. She waited, silent. Silence was always a friend between the two of them. Silence was easy and unoppressive and welcome. It allowed them space, and yet they remained together in that mute, mutual understanding. While he was thinking, she took his hand and softly kissed each scarred fingertip.

“I am calling on my bargain,” he declared suddenly, and stroked her head.

Confused, she scrunched her face and muttered, “what?”

He grabbed her behind in his strong hands and somehow, managed to rise up, with her clutching at him. His nose burrowed into her ear and she squirmed, giggling, when he grunted, “what a nice little ass!”

“You seem to like it,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around him.

“I love it!”

“Now what about this bargain?” she reminded him, a bit concerned. “What are we doing?”

“Whatever I want!”

“Az!”

“Lainey.”

He headed for the door, with her in his arms, and she screeched, “I don’t even have shoes on!”

“You don’t need shoes where we are going,”

“Azriel!”

“Why are you so fussy?” he mused, smirking, as he made it down the stairs.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“I don’t have to tell you. All I promised was that it’s not going to be ‘bad’ whatever that means.”

She sighed, shaking her head, muttering under her breath. He, in turn, very much enjoyed her clutching at him, her body in his arms, her wet hair swiping over his arm. She looked very cute, if very ridiculous in his clothes, and frankly, he was too elated, too disbelieving that this was even real, to let her go. He held her and nuzzled at her neck, at her face, sometimes returning to her beautiful mouth.

He carried her through the still-empty premises, though waiters at the bar and delivery people in the kitchen were starting their day. When they saw their boss carrying a woman, who frequently visited him here in the past few months, they pretended not to notice, as if this was a normal affair. In fact, no other woman ever came here, to visit him. He’s never been seen with a woman, never said that he had a girlfriend, even if women seemed to lose their minds in his presence. But until this one—absolutely not the type of a woman he typically attracted—he never allowed anyone to get close to him.

Azriel made his way into the cavernous insides of the building, at last entering the tattoo shop that he had on premises. It was elegantly outfitted and bore his usual aesthetic—restrained, modern, striking with its use of black, white, and splashes of cobalt.

Elain looked around, when he set her down and pointed out, “I’ve been here before.”

He nodded.

As she wandered about, looking at various lithographs and prints with unique tattoo designed, she finally stopped abruptly and whirled to him,

“No!”

He was laughing under his breath.

“No!” she exclaimed again.

“No what?” he winked, sitting down on a stool, and patting on a leather recliner beside it.

“You…” she fumed. “No!”

He tsked, “A bargain is a bargain.”

“Azriel!” she stomped her foot.

He crossed his arms on his chest and looked at her, “Elain.”

“I am not getting a tattoo!”

“You most certainly are. Stop being a wuss and come here.”

“I am not going to,” she insisted.

“You know,” he notified her conversationally, as he started to prep his equipment, “a shitty little Bagarat tattoo is like $800 bucks,”

“Congratulations. Give it to someone else,” she offered, scowling. “Maybe someone would like a sleeve for twenty grand!”

“I won’t give you a sleeve. Jeez, you’ll probably faint at the first prick,”

She huffed, “I will not!”

He shrugged.

She pressed, “I will not. I am not afraid of needles and I have a high pain tolerance.”

“Lots of talk, babe, no action,”

Stomping angrily, she crossed the open space and challenged, “do you even know how to tattoo?”

“Cass and Rhys…” he winked. “And whenever Rowan decides to add to his collection…Or Gavriel,”

Those were some of the finest, most intricate designs that Elain’s ever seen.

“You did those?” she asked, brow furrowed.

He nodded.

“They are beautiful,” she whispered.

“Will you trust me?” his voice softened and he extended his hand to her.

Elain sighed and then slid on the lounge chair. It was comfortable. She was nervous.

“What will it be?” she asked. “May I see it?”

Wordlessly, he pulled a piece of paper from a folder, but then did not give it to her. She waited. He suddenly seemed uncertain, almost shy.

“Az,” she said gently, “may I see it? I am sure it’s beautiful.”

He swallowed and then explained, “I traced it the first day…evening…When we met, and you were here, at the garage. I,” he exhaled and then looked at her, “anyway…I was overwhelmed, I guess. I fell in love with you and all I could think of was you.”

The words warmed her up, and everything in her softened at his nervousness, at his admission.

“I want it,” she took the paper from him.

“It’s just for you,” he clarified. “It’s unique to you. I needed to quiet my brain and capture the essence of you, and this was it,”

Elain looked at the drawing. It was smaller than she expected, and rendered masterfully—an absolutely exquisite flower cradled in an embrace of two wings.

He swallowed tightly, and then said, “It’s called On the Wings of Desire.”

Without saying anything, Elain pulled up the shirt that she was wearing, just up to her chest. He looked down at her, expectantly.

She put her hand under her left breast, where her heart was and said, “there. I need it there.”

He nodded, remaining silent.

She saw that this was important to him, some ritual that he desired for her to go through, some sort of marking. That’s what it was. It dawned on her, at last. This was his mark, on her. He was going to do it himself, put a part of him, of his creation, of his work, not just on her skin, but within her blood, into her.

She clasped his hand and his eyes flew to her, a shadow of apprehension and anxiety in them, probably as much emotion as he’d be willing to show. He feared that she’d changed her mind.

“Az,” she licked her lip, suddenly nervous to request this of him. “Can you,”

“What?”

“Can you do it on you as well?” she proposed quietly.

He, it seemed, was unable to verbalize what he needed to, so she helped him, “Same spot, alright? Across your heart. So you know that I am always with you, as you are with me.”

He nodded vigorously, clearly relieved and absolutely in love with her proposition.

“Who will do it?” she wondered. “Please don’t ask me!” she laughed.

He smirked. “Nuala. She will do it. Only Nuala or Rowan tattoo me.”

She nodded and then relaxed back into the leather.

“No crying,” he said.

“Alright,” she shrugged. “Kind of weird that you are this sensitive to pain, but okay. I’ll hold your hand.”

He was laughing.

“I thought only Nesta had a big mouth like that,” he said, as he prepped the skin and pulled on his gloves.

“Mistake number one,” teased Elain.

“I am seeing that now,”

He then said, “Okay, I may accidentally brush against the boobie,”

“How accidentally?” she chuckled, while he pressed the outline into her skin. Then, the needle began its wheezing and Elain winced, as the first prick of the needle stung her skin.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” it was more painful than she expected, and she figured that the spot that she selected was probably not the best and would hurt more than an arm or a leg, but she was set on it.

“Absolutely, totally accidentally,” he lied. “You are the one who chose the spot,” he pointed out.

Elain was a trooper. She did not make any hissing noises or any sounds at all throughout the tattooing. The shading was the longest and most painful part, and even then, she remained composed and only winced a few times.

“I am sorry,” he murmured repeatedly, especially when a bit of blood seeped onto her skin.

“Prick your finger,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Prick your finger,”

“And?”

The soft doe-eyes blinked at him a few times, and she said, “I think you know what to do.”

So he did. He pricked his finger and mixed his blood with hers.

Nuala offered to tattoo ‘No Regerts’ on Azriel’s chest, if Elain so desired. She considered it, while Nuala explained that Azriel was now at their mercy and they could do whatever they wanted to him. At the end, he walked away with only a small tattoo over his heart.

It was about 8 am when Azriel and Elain left the garage. The sun was shining and there were no remnants of the previous storms. It was like it never happened. But it did happen. Everything happened.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, slinging his heavy, muscled arm around her shoulders. She’s been clutching at her side the whole time.

She shook her head no and looked at him. He smiled and then kissed her.

“I love you,” he murmured suddenly. Elain’s face broke into a loving smile and she reciprocated by kissing him back. “Let’s go home.”

#la dolce vita #elriel fanfic #elriel #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #elriel fanfiction #elain fanfic #my writing #new chapter #acotar fanfiction #sjm books #azriel #azriel and elain #elain archeron #elain

102 notes · View notes

passionate-reply · 3 years

Video

youtube

Great Albums is kicking off Pride Month with a special feature on one of the weirdest and wildest queer artists of the New Wave era: the one and only Klaus Nomi! Combining glam, synth-pop, and opera, of all things, Nomi’s tragically short career is nothing short of mystifying. Check out the video or read the full transcript, below the break!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! In this installment, I’ll be looking at the self-titled debut album of one of the most unique, incomparable, and unforgettable artists in music history: the one and only Klaus Nomi. What is it that makes Nomi so noteworthy? Perhaps the most obvious thing is his background as a classically trained opera singer. While a lot of pop vocalists have some degree of classical training, it’s rare to find one who worked so hard to bring ultra-mannered, literally operatic lead vocals into an otherwise pop context.

The other thing I should mention is that Nomi’s voice part was the “countertenor,” giving his vocals an even more unusual dimension. Countertenors are men who sing in a high range usually covered by women, and even in the operatic tradition, they weren’t necessarily all that common, particularly since the rise of opera coincided with that of the infamous castrati--male singers who were castrated to preserve their prepubescent voices. The combination of partially electronic, New Wave compositions with these bizarre, but ultimately “traditional” vocals results in something that sounds simply otherworldly.

Music: “Total Eclipse”

“Total Eclipse” is probably Nomi’s best known track, due in part to being featured in the seminal concert film Urgh! A Music War, which sought to capture the diversity of the early 80s New Wave scene. Like a lot of classic songs of this era, it tackles the subject of nuclear annihilation, albeit with a nearly depraved, gleeful tone, that makes it feel like more of a party. For the verses, Nomi adopts a sort of rhythmic speak-singing, which was much more par for the course for “New Wave” music, only to shockingly explode into a powerful operatic rendition of the refrain. It reminds me a bit of how, in musical theatre, tension builds through spoken dialogue, before characters are so emotional they feel compelled to burst into song--or, of course, how recitative blossoms into arias in opera. In the context of this particular track, it’s easy to interpret it as an embodiment of how “cold wars” can suddenly burst into flame. While “Total Eclipse” was a new composition, written specifically for Nomi by Kristian Hoffman, this album also features several covers of past hits, such as “You Don’t Own Me.”

Music: “You Don’t Own Me”

Nomi’s covers of the Midcentury pop ditties “Lightning Strikes” and “You Don’t Own Me” repeat the structure of “Total Eclipse,” showing that this signature pattern of increasing tension leading to increasingly mannered vocals is just as effective when retroactively applied to pre-existing compositions. What’s also significant about “You Don’t Own Me” is that it was originally written for a woman, Lesley Gore, and its defiant assertion of self-confidence has long been associated with women’s liberation. Being openly gay, Nomi sees fit to leave the lyric “play with other boys” just as it is, and could be interpreted to be deliberately emphasizing that last word, intentionally queering his rendition of the song. Nomi’s ability to sing in a traditionally female voice range, combined with his eccentric, gender-bending personal aesthetic, makes the interrogation of traditional concepts of gender an integral part of his art. Some of the other covers on the album are even older than the Midcentury, coming from the golden age of opera, such as “The Cold Song.”

Music: “The Cold Song”

Also known by its opening lyrics, “What power art thou?”, “The Cold Song” is a rare operatic aria that was actually designed for the countertenor voice part. It was written by the English composer William Purcell, a noted fan of countertenors who lived outside the influence of the Italian castrati, for his 1691 opera King Arthur. Well, King Arthur is actually what’s sometimes called a “semi-opera”: not all characters sing, and those who do often tend to be supernatural entities. “The Cold Song” is sung by a winter spirit called the Cold Genius, when reluctantly awakened from icy slumber by Cupid. His lines are sung so as to stutter, as he shivers from the freezing cold of his surrounds. Unlike the pop covers on the album, the arias are actually played pretty straight, almost as if they serve as evidence of Nomi’s actual chops doing traditional opera the old-fashioned way. “The Cold Song” is certainly a great fit for Nomi’s unique stage persona, which presented him as a fey or elfin non-human visitor from some mythical Otherworld, or perhaps an extraterrestrial from outer space. This theme is addressed most directly by the one track on this album composed entirely by Nomi himself: “Keys of Life.”

Music: “Keys of Life”

“Keys of Life” is the album’s opening track, and perhaps serves as Nomi’s personal introduction to the people of our realm--a sort of musical “we come in peace” message. Its lyrics seem to portray Nomi as a benevolent visitor, but one with a dire warning for mankind: we need to get our act together soon, for our actions now are of great import, as we humans “hold the keys of life.” Perhaps Nomi’s mission is to prevent climate catastrophe on Earth, or, given the context of “Total Eclipse,” a nuclear apocalypse. With its warbling synthesiser backdrop, and Nomi singing fully in the operatic style throughout, “Keys of Life” is arguably the most experimental piece to be had on the album, and putting it as the very first track certainly pulls no punches.

It is, of course, difficult to fully address the significance of Nomi’s persona without getting into his visual identity. The cover of Nomi’s self-titled debut features his most iconic outfit: an oversized plastic tuxedo, with hugely exaggerated shoulders, and a pointed hairstyle with a bit of Streamline Moderne flair. I mentioned earlier that Nomi’s work seems concerned with gender, and in that context, I’ve often interpreted this look as a sort of caricature of masculinity, parodying men’s formalwear and calling attention to Nomi’s receding hairline. There is certainly something absurd about a high-pitched, perhaps feminine-coded voice emerging from a ludicrously masculine sort of character. The use of thin, shiny, reflective plastic, and the aforementioned Midcentury feel of the hairstyle, make me also consider interpreting it as less of a parody, and more of an alien’s bad attempt at adopting the appearance of an “ordinary,” upstanding, conservative human male in attire, using space-age materials to cobble it together.

The oversized, geometric appearance of Nomi’s garb reminds me of the great Dada poet, Hugo Ball, founder of the legendary Cabaret Voltaire. Ball was the inventor of what he called “sound poetry,” and enacted lively readings of poetry that consisted of entirely nonsensical words. He did this while wearing a strange, cylindrical-shaped cardboard suit, said to restrict his movements so much that Ball needed to be ceremoniously carried off stage when he was finished reciting. Given their shared German heritage and cabaret avant-gardism, I can’t help but wonder if Ball’s striking costume was something of an influence on Nomi here.

This album is, of course, self-titled, but that, too, is an artistic choice that can be analyzed. The artist was born Klaus Sperber, but adopted the stage name “Nomi” for his creative endeavours. In the context of the track “The Nomi Song,” the name is often used punningly in comparison with the English phrase “know me.” Nomi’s choice of stage name is almost a dare or a challenge, a request for us to attempt to know and understand this seemingly inscrutable being before us. As with many other portrayals of queerness as alien or otherworldly, the messaging here seems to be that Nomi may seem different at first, but his intent is ultimately benign, should mere mortals like ourselves be kind enough to give him a chance.

Nomi’s follow-up to this debut album was 1982’s Simple Man, an album which is much more similar to its predecessor than different. It has a wider variety of contributing musicians and different instruments employed, but it’s got a similar overall feel, and mix of tracks. You’ll find more covers, like “Falling In Love Again” and even “Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead,” more original compositions, like the Hoffman-penned sequel to “Total Eclipse,” entitled “After the Fall,” and even some more arias, like this stunning rendition of another work of Purcell’s. Referred to here as simply “Death,” it comes from Purcell’s Dido & Aeneas, and is sung by the titular Carthaginian queen, Dido, as she prepares to commit suicide. Also called “Dido’s Lament” or “Thy hand, Belinda,” its darkly descending melody is as captivatingly ominous today as it was when it was written, over three centuries ago.

Music: “Death”

Sadly, Nomi became gravely ill at around this time, and his own untimely death was just around the corner. He died of complications of AIDS in 1983, at the age of just 44, leaving behind an unfinished opera of his own creation, Za Bakdaz, which would go unreleased until 2008. That, and a posthumous live album released in 1986, would be the only other works under Nomi’s name. As with all artists who die tragically young, we will always be left wondering what else Klaus Nomi might’ve accomplished in the ensuing decades. I find it hard to imagine a timeline in which this sound ever became particularly mainstream, but anything else Nomi came up with would have undoubtedly been fascinating.

My favourite track on Nomi’s debut is “The Twist.” Yes, this is indeed Chubby Checker’s “The Twist,” another one of those Midcentury covers that Nomi was so fond of. But compared to the rest of Nomi’s covers, this one is much more of a deconstruction, perhaps even a “piss take,” featuring a sparse instrumentation, centered around a lethargic bass guitar, and the overall pace is slowed to a crawl. Add in Nomi’s piercing vocals and some nearly demonic, chittering laughter, and you’ve got a track that turns a fun, light-hearted dance craze into a surreal nightmare. As difficult as it is to be the strangest track on an album like this, I have to give that honour to “The Twist.” That’s all for today--thanks for watching!

Music: “The Twist”

#music #great albums #album review #album reviews #klaus nomi #new wave

24 notes · View notes

revengerevisited · 3 years

Text

So I’ve been kinda dancing around my original story idea for a little while, and I got this idea in my head of ‘what if I release chapter 1 and then get feedback without telling anyone what the story is about first so it’s more of a surprise?’ But honestly? I’m realizing since I already released a preview-of-a-preview for chapter 1, and it might be a little while until I finish chapter 1, plus I honestly kinda feel like I’d rather work on sketches of my character designs than write at the moment, I might as well go ahead and tell you guys. X’3

So! I watched a couple anime recently both centered around the premise of... monster girls! These being Monster Musume and Monster Girl Doctor, but then I noticed there’s also Interviews with Monster Girls, A Centaur’s Life, and the infamous Interspecies Reviewers, and I asked myself... Monster girls are pretty popular right now, yeah? But where’s all the monster boys?! And that’s how I got the idea! I re-watched some of my favorite anime based on Otome Games, Kamigami no Asobi and Uta no Prince Sama for inspiration as well, and a few ones I hadn’t seen before like Dance with Devils and Magic-kyun Renaissance for inspiration as well.

So now I’ve got my premise that I shared earlier: This is the story of Millie, a young woman down on her luck who happens to live in a world where monsters aren’t just real, but commonplace. She started working as a maid in a mansion-turned-art-school whose students are a group of very attractive monster boys. The twist is that these aren’t just any monster boys; they belong to various rare and exotic species with deadly reputations...

Note that character and place names are technically place-holders for now and may change if I come up with better ones. Now, I don’t wanna spoil anything story-wise, but I think I can introduce my setting and some of the characters that you’re gonna meet. The story is set in a modern setting, though it’s vague if it’s actually Earth or just some generic world similar to it, as I try to avoid referencing real-world places or events. This is a world where humans and monsters live together after a Great Interspecies War happened in the past, but tensions have mostly relaxed by the time the story takes place. The war could be thought of as the equivalent of our own World War One, one in which there was a truce decided after many years of stalemate fighting.

The city everything takes place in is tentatively named Dullahan, and was built directly after the war to commemorate peace between human and monster kind. It’s considered an artistic cultural center, and it’s got a lot of interesting entertainment places to go to, arcades, theaters, aquariums, etc, that the characters can have a lot of different shenanigans in. The other main setting is the Beaufort Academy of the Arts, which was actually a mansion that was converted into a small private school. This is where all the characters live, and our main character Millie works as a maid there.

Before I go into the characters, I should start with the various monster species. There are 12 species, divided into 2 groups: common monsters and exotic monsters. The common monsters are centaurs, harpies, lamias (snake people), kobolds (dog people), ogres, and merrows (mermaids). These species are all pretty standard, and will be mostly background characters and npcs. The main characters, and love interests for Millie, will be of the exotic variety: arachnes (spider people), sirens (deep-sea mermaids), mandrakes (plant people), dragons, manticores (with a liontaur body-type), and scyllas (octopus people).

So what differentiates a common monster from an exotic one? Well, while the Interspecies War was between humans and monsters in general, some monsters were already at least partially integrated into human society, and the rest followed soon after the war ended. These monsters were almost as common as humans, and either herbivorous or omnivorous, with the exception of the carnivorous lamias who prefer to eat eggs over anything else. On the other hand, the so-called ‘exotic’ species were not only much more rare, but they had a very different food preference... one which earned them the now derogatory nickname... man-eaters.

Naturally, most ‘man-eaters’ weren’t exactly welcomed into human --nor common monster-- society with open arms, not that most of them wanted to. For the most part, species as powerful and dangerous as them didn’t want to play nice with those they had once --and in some cases still do-- regard as prey, and so hid away into the furthest reaches of the world. Which of course makes them perfect material for all our leading men and Millie’s various love-interests!! Oh yes, while all of these monster boys are perfectly civilized --well, for the most part-- they still belong to species that many both human and monster alike continue to fear to this day. While they aren’t exactly fish out of water (well, except for the siren) there’s still plenty of awkward misunderstandings and interesting scenarios that can be played out.

So! Let’s have a quick run-down of the characters, keep in mind that none of these names are final and could change later on. First there’s Millie, a hardworking young woman who’s had a recent streak of bad luck. Through a misunderstanding she gets hired as a maid in a mansion-turned-art-school. She’s very sweet and tries her best to help others, but she’s not as innocent as she appears; she’ll understand your innuendos just fine, even if she doesn’t really say any herself! Next is Richard and Lara Beaufort, a husband and wife who run the school. Richard is rather laid-back, yet he’s also a master of all kinds of art, painting, sculpture, photography, dancing, singing, you name it! Lara is his arachne wife, a rather boisterous woman who owns a high-class fashion company. The secret to her clothing’s success?? Arachne silk, of course! The school was her idea, a way to help better integrate exotic species into society. Will her mission succeed? Only time can tell.

Richard and Lara have a son named Simon, our first love interest and a human-arachne hybrid who takes almost entirely after his mother in the looks-department (hybrids tend to look like one species or the other, rather than a mix of both). He’s a bit withdrawn due to dealing with bullying as a kid; most people --human and monster alike-- are afraid of his spider-like appearance, so he doesn’t get out much-- to the point his parents worry about him being a shut-in for life! He’s also a gamer boy, and has a secret soft side for gothic poetry, although he doesn’t want to join his parents’ art classes. He actually disapproves of his mother’s exotic species integration plan, as from what he’s experienced he feels it’s a waste of time.

Simon’s best friend and Millie’s second love interest is Louis, a mandrake who lives in the woods behind the manor. Louis is extremely shy and more than a bit lonely, even more so than Simon, and he doesn’t speak very often out of fear that the sound of his voice will hurt others around him. Mandrake screams can induce insanity or even kill those that hear them, hence his fear. Being part plant, Louis has mild shape-shifting abilities and is able to transform between child and young adult forms at will, although he’s actually the oldest of the group. He also isn’t a student at the art school, although he has an interest in floristry.

Now for our actual students! Forrest is a manticore, which in this world means he has a body similar to that of a centaur, but with the lower half of a lion instead of a horse, and a scorpion-like tail tipped with a deadly venomous stinger. Despite his species’s name literally meaning ‘man-eater’, Forrest is extremely friendly and cheerful, and is very sporty too. His passion is photography, and he also loves eating food-- any sort of meat dish is fine by him! He’s also a fan of fantasy tabletop roleplaying games, and will often make references comparing them to everyday life; he always plays the knight who saves the princess!

Anthony is a childhood ‘friend’ of Forrest’s, though he’s loathe to admit it. Highly intelligent and highly snobbish, Anthony fancies himself an intellectual-- and he’s not exactly wrong. Being a dragon, he likes to hoard things-- in his case, knowledge. Anthony loves to read, and is most often found in the library. His skill is in drawing and painting, and all his paintings’ invariably morose subject matter worry Millie. Still, this haughty dragon could definitely learn to loosen up a little, and be a little more kind; perhaps his stay at the academy --and his interactions with Millie-- will open his mind to appreciating the feelings of others. He does, at the very least, greatly respect Master Beaufort as a master of the arts.

The other two students are denizens of the sea, and have been friends for a very long time. Emil is a scylla, and like all scyllas he’s a little eccentric, and just can’t seem to keep his tentacles to himself! While Forrest is obsessed with eating, Emil’s true calling is cooking, and he loves making all kinds of dishes, especially anything seafood and/or foreign. Emil also is highly appreciative of women’s fashion, and absolutely adores everything to come from Madam Beaufort’s clothing brand-- so much so that he actually wears them himself! His pretty-boy looks and penchant for wearing women’s clothing actually has Millie mistake him for a girl at first, though he’s very much unafraid to show her his romantic side, or at least what he interprets as romantic...

Keeping Emil’s pervy antics in check is our sixth and final monster boy, Oswald! As a siren, Oswald spent most of his life in the sea, and still has a lot to learn about humanity. He’s a pretty cool guy but gets a bit embarrassed about his species’s troublesome past as the cause of many shipwrecks at sea, and would prefer to not discuss it. His passion is rock music, and his main instrument is the guitar. He also loves to sing, but refrains from doing so due to the hypnotic effect it has on other species. His lack of legs, tentacles, or a snake-like tail means that like other merrows and sirens he requires a wheelchair to move around on land, and often feels frustrated that he can’t show off how adept he is at traversing water. He’s also easy to embarrass and obsessed with not allowing anything to ‘ruin’ his manly image, including allowing Millie (a girl!) to help carry him around.

So there you have it, all my monster boys! I left out a few things, as those would be major spoilers, but those are my ideas for the characters for now! I’ll try to draw and post some sketches of their designs later. Hopefully I haven’t forgotten anything, but this won’t be the last time I talk about monster boys. Any questions or comments would be very much appreciated! Nsfw questions are allowed (all the boys wear pants for a reason, after all), though I’m currently not sure if this series will be 16+ or 18+, if you catch my meaning. Lemme know how interested you are in this story, or if you’re not interested please let me know that too!

#writing #monster boys #maddie's monster boys #if you ever wanted to see a merman wear pants... here's your chance XD

14 notes · View notes

kishimoto-did-us-dirty · 4 years

Text

Naruto Arts School AU

Reposting bc I love this post and bc I can lol

Character

- major

description

Naruto

-Drums

okie nobody can deny that our main boy over here is a loud soul, however, he can also carry a damn good beat that compliments his band mates’ music really well. Tbh, he sucked at music to begin with and had trouble matching rhythms and listening to his band mates when they played, however he eventually became a really good rhythm maker.

Sasuke

-Guitar (lead)

He’d be assigned to the same band as Naruto, and that’s how they met. This boy is a damn good guitarist y’all, but has attitude problems™, and used to not be able to deal with Naruto’s haphazard beat making, thus perpetuating a rivalry between the two. He constantly feels overshadowed by his elder brother Itachi, a piano major.

Sakura

- Dance

Ya girl fucking demolishes every single dance routine. Initially starting out with a focus on ballet (pre-shippuden in canon), our pink headed queen soon realized that she wasn’t getting the full experience of what it meant to dance. Her point shoes were her loves, however they hurt and nipped in places not just physical. She realized that she didn’t want to be pigeonholed into a genre of which she would be inhibited by standard, and rather to dance so as to forget technical perfection. Thus, what would partner with post-shippuden Sakura in canon, Art School AU Sakura got into hip-hop. And bitch, she goes hard. A lot of the other girls who she used to dance ballet with admire her for her absolutely BODYING her dance routines, but also for never sacrificing her femininity to dance and not taking BS for being a girl who goes so hard in a male-dominated genre. (Some people believe that hip-hop is heavy hitting and a little metaphorically “dark” so to speak, which Sakura is not. So obviously I expect a little disagreement regarding this, however if you look at people like Delaney Glazer or Kaycee Rice, that is how Sakura would dance).

Hinata

- Creative Writing

Shy and bookworm-like, Hinata can write the best poetry, romance and adventure pieces out of all the creative-writing majors. She’s especially good at writing character relationships and development, and has such a subtle sense of intelligent wit in her writing, that if you blinked you would miss it. However should you catch it, you’re sure to chuckle. Her only struggle is that she tends to drag on in important scenes, stretching them against the regular flow of the rest of her writing. Needs validation for her writing through an IV drip.

Kiba

- Drums OR Photography

Drums for obvious reasons (loud and obnoxious), although ruff boi looks good with a camera, too. Great at landscapes and street photography.

Shino

- Creative Writing OR Photography

I could definitely see Shino having fucking beautiful handwriting, and being a beast at writing anything within the sci-fi realm. I could also see him doing some journalism, and writing for the school paper. He’s very good at the logic of his sci-fi books and coming up with logical but enrapturing stories, that intermingle knowledge and mystery. He’s a very specific type of read, however, and may not appeal to all, however if you enjoy anything similar to Star Wars or Hitchhikers guide to the galaxy, then Shino is your author. If this doesn’t float your boat, though, try photography-major Shino. He can get the best angles of bugs he sees, and has an extensive portfolio with entomology-related snapshots.

Ino

- Dance

Like Sakura, she, too, began with a focus on ballet, however began to branch out into contemporary ballet a little later than Sakura. This is another reason why Sakura switched her focuses, as she and Ino had always had a fierce rivalry for dieting (ballet dancers are pressured to be as thin as possible) as well as battling for technical perfection when they were ballet focused. As the two grew, Ino focused more so on contemporary, but can certainly do some hip-hop with Sakura every now and then, just as Sakura occasionally takes a contemporary class with her. The two still have a rivalry, however, just not to the previous extent as when they were actively competing against each other. They’re more like sisters.

Shikamaru

- Guitar (bass) OR Creative Writing OR Architecture

Smart boy’s a tricky one. He would either be a bassist, a mystery and historical fiction writer, or, of his school offers it, be great at architecture. Idrk.

Choji

- ermmmmm….. maybe graphic design? Tech theatre (props)? Vocal???

Choji is hARD dwnccnpc (that’s what she said). I could see him behind a computer screen, animating and designing games/covers/posters or whatever. He could also do something in theatre, but I don’t think he would do anything up on stage. Something like props would suit him. He might do something in music, tho???? Can he sing???? Help???

UPDATE: Choji is a band kid. He plays tuba or some shit. Big boy got big lungs.

Tenten

- Dance

Always has been, and always will be a hip-hop dancer. She wanted to be like Tsunade, a legendary dancer and followed in her footsteps, taking up hip-hop. (that’s why Sakura focused on hip-hop, too, because Tsunade mentored her and taught a few of her classes, too). Tenten is fast and can keep up with any beat. Not only is she a great dancer, but she’s also athletic, and does track and field (cross country), football, and softball at another school too, since the arts schools doesn’t offer it. Overall great dancer with styl. She’s really looked up to by some of her underclassmen for her cheery, but badass style and skill.

Lee

- DANCE (hip-hop, too)

It’s sweat. It’s burn. It’s energy. It’s Lee.

Neji

- Violin

First chair violinist in his freshman year for the school’s philharmonic orchestra. He be extra like that.

Gaara

- Guitar (bass)

He had a lonely childhood with neglectful/abusive parents, and rock music really helped him with that. Emo music is emo and often made fun of, but the songs have messages and Gaara related, so self-taught himself the bass guitar to help cope, and bring him closer to the music that salvaged him.

Kankuro

-Art

Specifically sculpting. For obvious reasons.

Temari

- Acting

Girl can make you cry with some of her monologues. Total lead. Has a seriousness in her acting that makes her believable, however can falter on the less-serious roles. She may also double-major in whatever Shikamaru does. And she’s better at it than him.

Itachi

-Piano

Boy could play any etude at age 7. Performed at Carnegie Hall when he was 10. And no, he didn’t pay to play there. The hall invited him. Began composing at 9. Has perfect pitch. Owns international awards. If he’s not at school it’s because he’s traveling to play for crowds. He excels at classical and baroque, however has an ear for romantic, and enjoys playing/composing pieces either written or inspired by romantic pieces. Enjoys Schumann, Debussy, and Tchaikovsky. Hates modern classical music, though. Can only take cinematic pieces composed by people like Williams, however can’t stand Prokofiev at all. He does like modern music, though, so long as it’s outside of the orchestral/classical music realm. He likes R&B. He would have liked to do film with Shisui, particularly producing, however his parents pressure him with piano, so he helps Shisui with student films and projects outside of school (will probably pursue film after graduating, tho).

Shisui

- FILM / VIDEO PRODUCTION

Fight me on this!!! THIS BOY IS SO GOOD AT CINEMATOGRAPHY MY FILMMAKING ASS CAN’T EVEN. AS SOMEONE WHO IS IN LOVE WITH FILMOGRAPHY, TRUST ME, SHISUI HAS IT™. THE IT™. HE’S GOOD AT EVERYTHING. CINEMATOGRAPHY. DIRECTING. SCREENWRITING. GRIP-WORK. EDITING. PRODUCING. HE’S SUCH A FILM NERD TOO, AND WATCHES OLD FILMS ALL THE TIME. HE’S JUST TOO GOOD AT IT. DOES STREET PHOTOGRAPHY TOO. HE’S OVERALL A GENIUS WITH CAMERAS. Does film with Itachi outside of school and teaches him, and the two are overall geniuses at filmography. They want to start their own studio together (they do, and it becomes huge). He becomes a leading director, while Itachi becomes a producer and directs sometimes too.

Sasori, Deidara, and Sai

Guess.

Kakashi

- Saxophone

It’s the only thing that suits him and it suits him so well. Has suave.

Obito (omfg his arms y'all)

- Not to say drums or anything, but…. drums.

Narutard 2.0. But he also dabbles in other areas of music. Like, he can also play guitar and sing. He’s also pretty good at music production. Makes R&B sometimes. He wasn’t always the best musician but proved to be a late bloomer, and really harnessed his potential. Tries to be as suave as Kakashi and his saxophone. He isn’t.

Hashirama

- Vocal

OkaYYYYYY. VOCAL GOD. CAN DO RIFFS AND RUNS AND HAS PERFECT PITCH. ALSO THE SWEETEST GUY??? WAS A CHAMBER SINGER AS A FRESHMAN. EVERYONE LOVES HIM, GOOD BOY ENERGY.

Likes to belt.

Madara

- Piano

Total prodigy, but hates classical music. Once was accompanist to Hashirama for a solo vocal performance and hasn’t been left alone since.

Tobirama

- Viola or Cello

Some sort of string instrument and takes it very seriously. Probably plays cello because violas are violas and that’s lame (if you know, you know). Has almost as many awards as Itachi and Madara, but hates his usual piano accompanist, Izuna.

Izuna

- Piano

Also a piano god. The uchihas breed them. Hates being accompanist for Tobirama. They’re secretly best friends though, don’t tell anyone.

Karin

- Tech Theatre.

Idk why. Probably started out with props and made her way up to TD (technical director) in senior year.

Suigetsu

- Tech Theatre

Fucking hates theatre kids. Assistant TD. Karin hates him.

Jugo

- Visual Art

Paints landscapes and nature. Really good with oils and gouache respectively.

Yamato

- lmao Trumpet.

Met Kakashi since they both play brass, but boy he ain’t got that suave. That’s why he plays trumpet. Lmao he plays the fucking trumpet anjdwcnojdnn.

Rin

- Vocal

Sweetest voice and could also play the acoustic guitar when she sang. Died in a car accident junior year. Kakashi was at the wheel when they got hit by a drunk driver. Obito saw the whole thing.

Kurenai

- Visual Art

Can create dream like paintings that almost seem like illusions.

Asuma

- Cello / guitar

Used to play cello because of his parents, but loves to play guitar. Can sing but his voice is raspy from smoking.

Gai

Who the fuck do you think teaches dance?

Jiraiya

- Guitar (lead)

Used to major in lead guitar. Sucked at first. Probably has a couple, casual Grammy Awards (they’re actually not that hard to be awarded with, The Recording Academy award many people outside of mainstream media. My school has a few). Now teachers as head of the Band department at this school.

Tsunade

-Dance

Legendary dancer. Probably toured with a few famous people. Now teaches. Mentored Sakura, and mentored Ino but for a shorter time.

Orochimaru

- Idk, didgeridoo, or some shit

Definitely a wood wind. Flute maybe??? Teaches now but no one knows what he does. Pedophile. Has a thing for Sasuke.

107 notes · View notes

nctinfo · 4 years

Text

[TRANS] WayV’s interview with ELLE Korea May 2020 issue!

— Kun

A suffering leader, everyone's Kun — With a meticulous personality. The pros and cons would be: I think I am the leader thanks to my sense of responsibility and delicacy. [But] when there is too much to take care of, it is a bit cumbersome. There’s no member who gives me a hard time because they all pick on me one by one (laughs). If I had to introduce my hometown, Fujian Province, it's a quiet city with clean air and few people. Many people come to visit because the mountains and the lakes are beautiful. When I think about nature, I start missing my hometown. At school, I was the head of the student council's entertainment department. I might look like a serious person since the members are so active and mischievous, but I'm also a fun person. Times when I feel like we’re one team are when you know what the others are thinking just by the look in their eyes and, when we dance and the movements are 'synchronised'. WayV to me is the comfort of being able to share everything with each other. All the members worry a lot about music so a lot of ideas come out every time we hear new music. It is certainly an advantage that all seven have a lot of desire. I have a bright young voice, but my desire as a vocalist is to have a thicker and more mature voice these days. Wouldn't it suit dance songs that match our [team's] style more than ballads. I graduated in Practical Music. If there is a song I want to arrange: I'm still trying to look for my style while listening to various songs. I want to challenge not only the arrangement but also the composition. I am a good cook. The dishes I recently made for the members are the dishes that I learned from the main chef of the company while I practiced them [on the members]. The menu with the biggest reaction recently was DongPo Pork. When I can't sleep, I deliberately watch low-rated movies and these days, I watch a four-hour-long landscape video shot from a train driver's perspective. It makes me fall asleep really fast (laughs). The most memorable stage after debuting was as expected, MAMA 2019. When I was giving the award speech, my hand that was holding the microphone was shaking and it was all captured [on camera]. What I want to say to myself in hard times is to be confident! The moment you lose your confidence, everything becomes more difficult. The mindset I don't want to lose is to be grateful. Everything I do right now is impossible to do by myself. This is the most important. To Winwin: who has known me the longest among the members! I hope you always take on challenges with courage because I will always be there beside you to support you. Also, all the members know that you are cute.

— Lucas

Healthy energy, hot Lucas — Between a boy and a man, I feel closer to 100% boy! I don't think I feel mature enough. [Maybe I’m just like] a baby who wants to be a man (laughs). The most impressive man to me is a responsible person. And also, a man who gives everything to his loved ones. Having an attractive rapping sound because of a low and husky voice. My desire to sing is big! I want to sing a sad song. I've heard from people around me that a calm song suits my voice. Like the calm songs of Paul Kim I normally listen to too. My favorite song is "Take Off, The killing point is the dance break, with the powerful guitar riff. Emotion is what is the most important on stage. I believe each song has its own soul, and it is important to immerse yourself. My role in the team is positive energy. Although always looking bright, surprisingly, I have a lot of thoughts. Yesterday too, I had a lot of thoughts before going to bed, so it took me a while to fall asleep. Not long ago, Kun hyung played me a song he had composed and so many ideas came up so I wrote them down and sent it to him. WayV to me is a friendship that feels really deep even though it’s been only a year since I made a debut with the people I love so much. So much that when we come back from a schedule, as we laugh and talk together, the stress will suddenly be gone. The most important thing in a team is to have sincere conversations with each other to understand each other's differences. Only then can we get along well because of the wider understanding. Having appeared in a number of familiar variety shows like the Chinese version of <Running Man> <Let's Run Season 3> I like that I can go to various places the most. It's also a special opportunity to meet people with other jobs and not only artists. I think I'm often called/casted [for these shows] because of my sincere youthful reactions. The mindset I don't want to lose is the promise I made when I debuted to be a good influence on people. That's what I always keep in mind. I want to be a person who always gives positive influence to people, family, and fans around me. To Yangyang: who I know is really smart, you're still a cute little brother to me (laughs)

— Winwin A quiet presence, Winwin — In the reality show <Dream Plan>, mingling well with the elders in the village was impressive. Special trick behind it was thanking them for looking out for me! Since they were all kind natured, I guess treating them with sincerity looked good. When Lucas and I visited their home, we got served a meal and received a warm welcome. A performance video of Ten and I has been released. As a dancer, Ten is a member whose strength is being versatile. He helps the members at dance practices a lot. I’ve learned dancing in a special dance school. At the time I was the shortest and least talkative kid until I grew taller in high school. I’ve spent most of the time practicing alone. Chinese dance is similar to modern dance mixed with ballet. Learning the choreography is fast and it’s an advantage to be skillful in tumbling. I would like to properly showcase a modern dance at a concert someday. When I’m on the stage what I care about the most is my gestures and facial expression. During ‘Take Off’ promotions, the gestures and facial expressions I did during my part varied from stage to stage. I hear that I’m ‘pure’ a lot. A new charm that I want to have: our fans call me ‘Baby Chick’. I want to showcase more of an ‘eagle’ image, so I cut my hair short. Isn’t it similar to Park Saeroy (laugh). Something that makes me angry, although I normally have a good temper is being unsatisfied with stage performance to the point I can’t sleep on that day. But it’s okay to just take a nap. I just need to do better. The most memorable moment in WayV promotions was receiving the Best New Asian Artist Award at the MAMAs, it was the first time we’ve gotten an award together so I was very happy. The reason why I went to Beijing on my own as a middle school student seems to be fate. I passed my exams without much determination, left my hometown and went to school in Beijing where I was noticed and then debuted. Coincidence became fate. To me WayV is a path that we’re talking together, a team with a lot of growth potential. I’d like it if the younger members came to me whenever they need someone. I feel our fans love and support the most when: I’m always amazed and grateful for our fans hearts. All of the people who always look out for us even when we’re not promoting any albums and who support us are an immense source of strength. Success to me is when more people get to know us and we get to perform in many different countries. I want to think about my personal success after my team’s success. To Kun: when members want advice, we reach out to Kun first before our families. He knows a lot, can do a lot, and is a person we can depend on.

— Ten

Ten who is curious about what's next rather than what’s now — The secret to adapting well everywhere is attending an international school. I had friends of various nationalities and I also traveled a lot. Wherever I went, I went to see the common [places] first. Learning an unfamiliar culture is fun. I’m learning Thai, English, Korean, Japanese and now working hard at learning Chinese. I memorize expressions that I can use while watching Chinese variety shows and dramas. Although it's still difficult to read the buzzwords and hanja. The most important thing as a performer, and what makes you an outstanding dancer, is to have your own style while not being trapped by masculinity and femininity. I am different now from a few years ago and I'm trying to challenge myself by being flexible in various aspects. What I've learned since debut is, in the case of WayV, that when you work with various genres the main concern is the vocal style and with SuperM, I learned about the importance of performance through the activities [we did]. 'It's important to dance well, but you must also have your own [style]', 'think about what you want to express in front of the camera, but you must be faithful to your feelings on every stage in order to develop [yourself]' is the advice I received from the Hyungs (Baekhyun, Kai, Taemin). For the dance video that I did together with Winwin, the concept, music, settings, and outfits were all decided by us together without the company's advice. I came to realize the difficulties of being a staff member (laughs). I can [now] see the wider picture and more details. I like poetry too. I think poetry expresses emotions. It helps me understand the world and the society as a person and not as an artist. The lyrics of my 2nd solo song 'New Heroes' feel like an autobiography. If 'Dream in a Dream' was all about the performance then 'New Heroes' is a song about the time spent committing [to something] and I thought anyone can sympathize with that. The [original] lyrics were so great that I asked them not to change it and to just go with it. I want to write lyrics myself someday. The kind of person I want to be is [someone who] always tries to go with the flow as I think that making plans and setting expectations can make it more difficult on yourself. I hope I could be a person who can leave a good impact on others. WayV to me is just like a family who always does everything together and takes care of each other asking ‘have you already eaten?’. Everyone has an open mind to try and accept new challenges. During the 'Moonwalk' promotion period, I was kinda surprised how well we got along. Having received recognition for my skills since debut. The times when the expectations are high are: Art and languages too are ever-evolving disciplines, so it's not easy to keep up. Nevertheless, there are self-expectations and anticipations to show a new side of myself. I will work hard (laughs). I still play Pokemon Go and I'm waiting for the June update. I will catch a lot of new Pokemon again! To Xiaojun: with whom I saw Harry Potter together yesterday! Let's make an appearance in Harry Potter when there is a reboot.

— Hendery

Flexible midfielder, Hendery — Something I’ve gotten into recently is practicing playing drums. Kun hyung is cooking a lot lately so I’ve been reviewing the food too. The other day he made kimchi jjigae so good that it even got an approval from manager hyung. My favourite track is ‘Take Off’. We filmed the music video in Ukraine and spent loads of happy times together, so I feel happier whenever I listen to it. Something I’ve improved on since debut is that recording songs takes less time. When I hear a member of staff say ‘Is this really Hendery’s voice?’ I feel proud of myself. The charm of my vocal is: I’m still looking for it, but I feel like my rap sounds nice when I spice it up with a little melody. Good at giving advice to our members. A tip to giving good advice is: it’s important to have helping and not making decisions in mind. Talk about both bad and good points about the A and B. The secret to always looking like I’m at peace is my parents always telling me ‘Your happiness is the most important. You always have a home to come back to, so work as much as you can enjoy’, thanks to them I grew up as someone with little stress or worries. Mindset that I don’t want to lose is the excitement before going on stage. I think the most important thing for an artist is their greed for performing. When I get on stage the most important is interacting with fans. The most memorable stage was our Korean debut on <Show! Champion>. I couldn’t believe we’re performing Chinese songs in Korea. I was so overwhelmed to see our fans welcoming us so enthusiastically even though they didn’t understand what we were saying. I opened an instagram account recently. My posting plan is ‘This is where I am‘ ‘I am filming today’. I want to showcase my daily self. I hope our fans can smile for a brief moment when they see the pics I had the most fun taking. To me WayV is: I feel empty when I go away to see my family for a little. Every time that happens I facetime them to relieve the sadness. Lucas is the member who picks up the most (laugh). To Lucas: No matter how busy we get, even if we become grandpas, I’ll always be by your side. It’s something I want to say to all of the members, but Lucas is a friend I'm especially attached to so I really wanted to say this.

— Yangyang

Infinite potential, bold maknae Yangyang — I speak Chinese, German, English Korean and Spanish. Great language skills are useful when you travel. Whenever I talk with friends of various nationalities, I think it's fortunate that I can speak many languages. In our team alone, it's full [with people who speak] Chinese, Thai, English, and Korean (laughs). My role in the team is being the happy virus! Although of course, the hyungs think I'm a maknae that requires a lot of energy from them. WayV to me is a high tension team that can deliver strong and positive energy. If someone shows a slight sign of exhaustion, we immediately stick together and somehow infect each other with energy. I think that such energy is conveyed to fans on stage. If I have learned anything from living together with the members [it would be] the habit I have developed to control my greed and to care for others. I'm used to looking at the other's feelings now before doing something. My favorite song is ‘King of Hearts’, because I participated in writing the lyrics. I also love 'Love Talk' from the 2nd mini album. It is a charming song that is sweet and sexy but has a way to make your body move. My ambition as a rapper is the flow. Because I think this is the aspect that determines the impression of a song from the listener's point of view. I want to be a multi-talented person who is good at not only rapping but also dancing, singing, and writing lyrics. I've always had a lot of ambition. The attractive part of writing lyrics is that I can tell my story, since from a long time ago, I wrote lyrics little by little and it's always fun work. I want to steadily keep doing it. I like Virgil Ablo and Demna Gvasalia, and the fashion icon who caught my eye these days is Mike Amirie. I am drawn to people who have a simple yet clear style. The same goes for musicians. I like people who have a clear style like Travis Scott and A$AP Rocky. I’ve said 'I like who I am' before. Instances when I am especially like myself is when I'm confident. When I have confidence and want to show off, I can show much more than my actual skills. I use SNS to check on NBA and fashion news. I see the news on sneakers I'm looking forward to fast. Surprisingly, I don't look up anything about me [but] when a stage or performance is over I do look up the reactions. Most of them are good, so every time I read, I get energized. To Hendery: hyung, you seem to really get into gaming, but don't try too hard (laughs).

— Xiaojun

Warm voice, Xiaojun — Something I’m into these days is practicing the songs that will be included in the next album that we are preparing for. Before debuting, I only sang my favorite ballad song, but nowadays, I want to sing songs of other genres such as R&B. I've been uploading videos of me singing on my personal Instagram. My favorite song is ‘Face to Face’. My heart warms up every time I hear it. I really like the lyrics ‘You won’t be lonely because I’ll be your strength, I won’t let you cope with your wounds alone in silence’. The keywords that describe me are kind. Friendly. Positive. I often say ‘I wish my songs were healing different people’. The way I heal myself is: my heart calms down when I look at pictures with many memories sealed in them. I take a lot of pictures of the scenery and especially when I look at the pictures of my hometown in Guangdong I feel healed. The reason behind my strong sensitivity is the big influence of my dad who’s a singer and my older brother. Ever since I was little we would often watch movies together. I graduated with a musical major. My greed for musicals is: I’ll surely do it again later. I like starring in musicals but one day I’d like to make my own. A musical piece I’d like to recommend is <Dear Evan Hansen> who won at Tony Awards and Grammys. It’s a warm story about a lonely high school boy suffering from social anxiety disorder, who is working on his trauma and healing from the pain. My way of dealing with stress is quiet time on my own. Just like positive energy, negative energy is easily spread to others, so I’d rather be alone. A memory I really want to make is a trip, I promised to go on before debuting, with the members. The destination is still undecided. The kind of team member I want to be is a silent supporter. It would be nice if I can be 'my people/dearest' to others. Something I want to do this year is to have an event for the fans. I like to surprise friends or throw surprise birthday parties. I think fans will love it if we would do a guerilla performance. I told you here so I have to throw [that idea] away and I will prepare something else (laughs). To Ten: You are one of the 'Hyung-line', and you Korean is the best so there are many times you have to lead us. Don't carry everything on your own and sometimes lean on us! The same goes for Kun hyung.

t/n: Due to the structure of this interview there might be inaccuracies as many things only made sense in Korean but sounded kinda awkward in English (more so compared to other translations we did). We tried our best to convey what they meant, but please keep this in mind when reading this interview.

Translation: Alex, Esmee @ FY! NCT (NCTINFO) | Source: ELLE Korea Scans — Do not repost or take out without our permission!

#NCT #wayv #kun #ten #winwin #lucas #hendery #xiaojun #yangyang #t:trans #t:interview #ELLE #ELLE: May 2020

362 notes · View notes

merakiui · 3 years

Note

Hi sorry if I’m bothering but I was just wondering if you had any general headcannons for Nine or the rest of Noctu? Love your writing by the way❤️❤️.

Noctu General HCs (Aitachi, Kirr, Nine, and Day)

🎯 Aitachi 🎯

He’s always training because he wants to become a stronger Soul Reaper. His main motivation for that is you, his encouraging Manager.

Aitachi likes to train alongside you and Kirr. The three of you make a great team and whenever you seem to grow tired he’ll be there with a cold bottle of water and some healthy snacks to revive your energy.

He won’t admit it, but he tends to get embarrassed when he struggles to interact with modern technology properly. He usually learns from the others how to operate his SNS, but he seems to actually listen when he’s getting pointers from you.

He’s Kirr’s hunting buddy. The two of them probably fish together and they’d be happy to go camping with everyone if it’s brought up.

Introduce him to modern television and he’ll fall in love with all of those survival shows. The more outdoorsy, the better!

Aitachi likes to tell you stories of his tribe. If you ask, he’ll be so happy, proudly explaining more about his coming-of-age ceremony and what it’s like to experience life in his tribe.

He’s very awkward with modern language and will often talk in a stiff manner, sometimes using phrases that are commonly spoken within his tribe.

Despite his age and height, he is quite knowledgeable when it comes to survival and the outside world. Although there are many changes he is unfamiliar with, which is usually the always-updating types of technology.

Aitachi struggles to navigate the Internet and sometimes he ends up on the strangest sites with no qualms as to how he got there in the first place. One minute he’s trying to search up images of the land where his tribe lived and now he’s on a website that’s listing nearby properties for sale.

Autocorrect is his enemy and he can never fully wrap his head around those virtual helpers (Alexa, Siri, Cortana, etc.).

🏹 Kirr 🏹

Aitachi is his best friend and closest ally when it comes to anything and everything. He’s eternally grateful to have someone who understands as much about hunting and survival as he does, especially when he feels so lost in the modern world.

Kirr is probably more accustomed to the modern world than Aitachi is, but there are still moments where he struggles to keep up.

He loves to go on nature walks with the manager, but his favorite outing would have to be hunting with them. If they’re not a fan of that, he doesn’t mind a simple stroll through the woods.

He does not understand many jokes, especially those that use Internet slang or texting lingo. He’s especially confused about words like ‘simp’ and ‘pog.’

Kirr definitely enjoys wildlife shows just like Aitachi, but his favorites are usually about how animals hunt. There’s always a glimmer of intrigue in those quiet eyes when he watches a lion stalking its prey.

He’s not the best at communication and will sometimes say something that may give off the wrong impression or cause a misunderstanding. But for the sake of the manager, he wants to always try his best to improve these aspects of himself.

He does not understand flirting at all. Like jokes and the modern world, Kirr has trouble adjusting to these lighthearted tones. If the manager ever flirts with him, it’s usually one-sided and he always appears confused.

Most of the time he’ll accept whatever it is you’re telling him, especially if it’s meant to be nice. But he won’t flirt back or say anything that’s supposed to be funny because he just doesn’t understand it.

If you’re someone who likes puns and jokes, he’ll probably want to learn a little more, if only to understand you whenever you start to joke with him.

He may be serious and not at all as talkative as the other Reapers, but that doesn’t mean he’s unhappy. He’s just confused, but he’s got the spirit!

🎼 Nine 🎼

Nine is always so graceful and polite, which makes him quite the persuasive Reaper. He often finds ways to get Day to do things for him and most of it is under an innocent pretense.

Despite what some may think, he does genuinely care for those he manages to get close to. He trusts the manager and Day the most, but there are still things he won’t tell them.

He’s very good at avoiding conversations that make him uncomfortable and he won’t usually tell someone if they’re crossing a line of discomfort. He’ll just calmly redirect the conversation.

Nine probably enjoys classic literature and poetry from older time periods. He likes to compare it to today’s writing to see what has changed.

He also enjoys classical music of all sorts and will try to replicate his own versions in unique compositions. Music theory and the history of music are topics that also intrigue him, and he likes to pore over information related to that in hopes of learning more to improve his own skills.

Nine’s the type of Reaper you can rant to if you’re ever feeling down, but don’t expect him to vent about own troubles in return. He’ll comfort you to an extent, but it still seems like he’s reserved.

He likes all things peaceful: melodic piano music, zen gardens, calligraphy, and even simple poetry. He would definitely enjoy stargazing because it’s such a calming activity.

There are days when Nine’s lazy side shows and as a result of this he’ll get Day to do his tasks for him. He’s very clever when it comes to slipping away from patrols and Day’s often left with two times the amount of work.

Nine hides most of his true feelings behind a passive smile and only ever vents through his compositions, which he only shows to those he truly values.

He is surprisingly good at reading the atmosphere in a room and knows how to quell an uncomfortable mood.

🍦 Day 🍦

You’ll never see him sad unless it’s something truly serious and dire. Day is always a constant ray of sunshine like Ell.

He’s very carefree and casual, wanting to be friends with everyone in the 14th Department. Once he believes he’s made friends with someone, he’ll be willing to do anything for that person.

Day is like a huge puppy. He gets excited easily and loves being around people. There’s never a dull moment with him.

He loves to bake with Nine and the manager, as they are his two favorite people in the whole world. Day often feels incomplete without them by his side and he loves to help them whenever he gets the chance.

Day doesn’t like to see the bad sides in people and will focus on their positive qualities instead. He believes that everyone can get along if there’s a happy environment and good food!

He’ll get upset if he finds that his Soul Reapers aren’t getting along and will even cry if anyone acts particularly mean towards him or his friends.

Day loves emoticons, especially the cute and happy ones. He feels like he can fully express himself with a few emojis and he’s probably the type to spam text messages, most of which aren’t actually coherent sentences but just strings of emojis.

Another thing he loves about the manager is when they help him when he’s in distress! Sometimes he’ll trip if he’s running too fast and as much as the injury may hurt everything feels better the minute his manager bandages it. He’ll be even happier if they pretend to kiss it, promising that it’s a charm for faster healing.

When he’s with Kati, chaos and trouble ensues, as the both of them are far too energetic to contain.

He wants to try making his own ice cream with Nine and the manager, but he can never wrap his head around the process.

#afterl!fe #after l!fe #afterl!fe headcanons #afterl!fe hcs #afterl!fe noctu team #afterl!fe night team #noctu #afterl!fe aitachi #afterl!fe kirr #afterl!fe nine #afterl!fe day #general headcanons

27 notes · View notes

lilallama · 3 years

Note

(Sorry if I spell something wrongly lol) Idk, This is my opinion? Gryffindor, Jungkook. Hufflepuff, Taehyung & Yoongi. Ravenclaw, Namjoon & Jin. Slytherin, Jimin & Hobi??? I literally just searched the meaning of each house and just picked one based on the personality shown. Also, If you don't think this matches them, Sorry ;-;

[Don't worry, sweetie ^^. You don't have to apologise! 💕🍑]

Hoseok is a lot more two faced than I actually tend to show. The way he presents himself is mostly a mask. While he seems mostly calm on the outside, he's actually quite the opposite on the inside. Out of all the boys it'd be easiest for him to manipulate/influence Y/n (@bangtans-apollo Tae is quacking-) and he's aware of that. That's one of the reasons why they started the club 1. To protect Y/n, 2. The club concept came because it'd be easier to meet up and they would automatically get a clubroom and 3. Hoseok threatened to tell on them if they don't join, he'd make Y/n despise each one of them.

He is a strong leader (one of the Slytherin traits), I try to make him resourceful (but I am not myself so that might not shine through too much), he is definitely cunning. The whole ordeal with wanting to be with Y/n no matter what is pretty ambitious, I'd say. And lastly the traditionalism trait, he is very into tradition and has to keep his domestic fantasies with Y/n a secret. His parents raised him very traditional, he would hate it if (female) Y/n would ask him out first or would propose first and would at first frown upon his attention to (male or non binary) Y/n.

All in all Slytherin seems very accurate.

Now concerning Jimin; similar to Hoseok he too can be a two faced snake. He doesn't hide his true thoughts from Y/n or the boys, if anything he overshares sometimes (one time he started talking to Taehyung about some... rather inappropriate things concerning Y/n. That got his Y/n privilege taken away for a whole month). And despite practically pleading to be the "dumb bimbo" stereotype, he is surprisingly clever and intelligent. Before Highschool, before he made his first experiences with popular boys, he was a straight A's and B's student. Yet once he had his first boyfriend, he discovered that the people surrounding him typically preferred the dumb blondes. (He actually broke up with the captain of the football team for Y/n.)

He also sometimes displays ambitious, just in a whiney sort of way. Self preservation is definitely something. Unlike Taehyung, Yoongi, Namjoon or Jeongguk, he wouldn't let himself be killed for Y/n's sake. If Y/n were to be killed he would end up deluding himself into thinking a person who looks similar to them is them and would force Y/n's personality and style on them. Cunningness is 100% accurate. He's fake. He pretends to be a silly sweetheart who loves everyone but will spread rumours about you, blame things on you etc. and everyone believes him. His cunningness concerning Y/n is more whiney than anything.

So I do think Jimin fits Slytherin.

Namjoon was raised by strict parents who forbade him a tremendous amount of things and painted his world for him. It was engraved in his head, he was going to be the CEO of their company one day. Yet despite everything he still had a head of his own. Maye it was because if his high IQ that he understood that his parents weren't the only opinion in his life. Don't get me wrong, they still left him scarred (sadly literally, as his father once hit him bloody) and traumatised but not without a mind of his own. Ever since he was small creativity and originality was something he admired and loved. It was partly reason of why he fell for Y/n, their individuality, their mind, their heart, their soul.

We will not need to discuss intelligence, it's a trait he undoubtedly has. He is always willing to learn and showed interest in many different things before Y/n captured his focus. He is most likely one of the wisest members as he is aware of how twisted his love for them truly is (once again something I tend to fail at portraying) and tried to stop it when it started. But somehow that only made everything worse and by now he doesn't care anymore at all. When he was a child he used to be more openly curious than nowadays (as it caused him many punishments from his parents).

I feel that Namjoon would fit Ravenclaw.

Seokjin was spoiled all his life. His parents adored him, other kids adored him, everyone adored him. While he might've acted oblivious he knew that it's because of his money. Similar to Jimin, Seokjin changed when he entered high school. While he always was a pretty intelligent and well behaved student (still very arrogant though) he then became less concerned with studies and once made a teacher cry (that was before he met Y/n). He loves standing out as an individual, that includes making anyone change who crosses his path with the same outfit (not in school as they wear a school uniform. But outside, yes, he has that much power. Everyone knows Kim Seokjin).

As said before, Seokjin is far from stupid. He is a very intelligent individual but doesn't show the extent of his nolage. Instead aiming for a cool "Queen B" persona. He is witty with his comebacks (something I cannot write because I do not possess that superpower), he's quick with his words. He holds respect for people who are 60+ years old as he believes they've been through a lot in life already. These people have wisdom he could only gain by experience and that he respects (there is one very sweet lady that lives alone in a very big mansion a few streets away from his penthouse. He always visits her because he loves her genuine kindness. When he met Y/n she recently passed away and he saw a part of her in them).

Seokjin could qualify for a Ravenclaw.

Taehyung was raised by a very Christian family that he still cherishes very much. Because of their intense belief he was raised to worship. He never fell in love, so when Y/n crossed paths with his, he started showing love how he's used to it (Out of all the boys Taehyung is straight up insane. Something in his brain might be wired wrong, there is no explanation on why he likes them, on why he believed that's what love is because his parents treated him with normal, familiar love. So he is simply sick, there is no "saving" him. He's better of in a mental hospital). But he was always a very kind boy. Giving instead of taking, never wanting anything in return. Out of everyone, Taehyung was the one who welcomed new students and made tons of friends. But he grew out of it as his focus turned to art. He aimed to make his parents proud so he didn't have time for friends.

His loyalty is unlike any other. You could torture him half dead and he'd still forgive you, stay loyal to you, serve you. He is Y/n's servant. He works hard on improving his artistic abilities and also to maintain fairly good grades. For Y/n any labour he'd have to be put through would seem like a blessing. Another trait for Hufflepuff would be fairness and he surely is fair. As one of the least jealous members of the club he really only cares if Y/n's okay with what's happening or could get hurt (he always kets the other members have more privileges than he has because he believes it'd be not only greedy but prideful to want Y/n to hinself. He avoids any sin when it comes to Y/n, envy, wrath, pride, sloth, nothing will ever come near his modern day Jesus).

Taehyung definitely is a Hufflepuff.

If the boy who works two parttime jobs, to pay for rent, bills and food, cleans the shabby apartment by himself because his alcoholic mother is busy messing it up again, yet still treats his mother with kindness, only to be treated like trash by seven more powerful and successful guys in his school who all like the same person he does and still manages to maintain the position as intern and honour roll student at a prestigious school for roch people, isn't in Hufflepuff then I don't know what. This poor soul is incredibly sensitive and kind. He isn't judgemental (as he himself is used to people judging him). All round very sweet.

I think it's very clear that he's very diligent and hard working. He holds great passion for music and enjoys writing poetry, a very sensitive soul. Yoongi isn't someone to complain about something being unfair (cough cough Jimin cough cough) or try and steal Y/n away from them. His day dreams consist of imagining Y/n liking him back, but he is certain that would never happen (according to you guys, it seems a lot of you would pick Yoongi if you'd get to decide). Not only is Yoongi kind but loyal as well, he'd never imagine leaving anyone behind even his useless mother.

Yoongi is 1000% a Hufflepuff.

Jeongguk tends to be hot tempered, he goes from zero to a hundred in a matter of seconds. Everything in life seems like a challenge to prove he's better than others think (his father was a notorious serial killer who killed twenty one people yet got away with a ten year prison sentence and got released after six, ten months later Jeongguk was born). In truth he did not care for anyone else, only Y/n. So all tge chivalry he could muster was directed at them.

He is one brave guy who doesn't get easily scared (I guess living with as well as being a serial killer at sixteen years old desensitised him). Jeongguk is courageous just not in/for a positive way/purpose. He deluted himself into thinking that Y/n needs protection, HIS protection. He once attacked a teacher because they were helping Y/n with a question, that's very daring (more like stupid) just not in a good way. A (still not) more positive example of his daringness is when he wants to impress Y/n. He hung from a skyscraper for five minutes doing pullups, just to inpress them. One time he also jumped across his luxurious pool at home (and almost slipped, almost bashing his head in) just to prove that he can jump further than someone they talked about.

I could very much picture him as a Griffendor.

If you enjoyed reading my work, please consider reblogging it. Thank you for reading

#yandere bts #cooking club #hogwarts au #yandere jimin #yandere taehyung #yandere jungkook #yandere namjoon #yandere hoseok #yandere seokjin #yandere yoongi #harry potter au

37 notes · View notes

bazwillendinflames · 3 years

Text

Gravity Falls/LIS2 AU

The last place Sean wants to spend his Summer is in a weird town in the middle of no where, Oregon, reconnecting with a Mother who hadn’t wanted to see them in years in her weird tourist trap. But Daniel is determined to go and his Dad gives Sean little choice but to babysit him.

But soon it becomes clear there is more to Beaver Creek than meets the eye and the strangeness of the town soon unlocks some family secrets and strange abilities. Maybe their Summer won’t be so boring after all.

AO3

“Lyla, I will die of boredom.”

“It can’t be that bad,” she replied, her voice a little tinny still. The bad reception was just one of many reasons that Sean was having an awful time. (In the week and a half since they had arrived, he’d already made a list.)

“Nope, it is exactly as bad as I’m saying.”

“I mean, come on, you’re Mom’s there. What’s that like that?”

Sean scowled. “Number one on reasons this place sucks. All she talks to us about is all this weird mystic stuff she likes. Her store is so weird, it’s all crystals and bad poetry.”

Lyla snorted. “Really?”

“Yep. Not to mention this is the whitest town ever.” He glanced out the window, where Karen was smoking, notebook in hand and ducked his head before she could spot him. “There are no cool people.”

“Come on, you have Danny.”

“I get enough babysitting at home thanks.” He glanced outside again, wondering exactly how long he could bitch on the phone for and call it a break. “Anyway, this place is just making Daniel weirder. He’s convinced this place is magic or something.”

“That’s sweet. Hey, we used to play witches when we were kids, remember?”

“Hey, you were the witch, I was a manly wizard.”

That time Lyla actually laughed. “Sure dude. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Anyway, we were into the Harry Potter books, you know before terf-face ruined them. Daniel is into the ancient runes and fake spell cards Mo- Karen sells.”

“That’s adorable.”

“Ugh, only you could find him adorable. That’s only because Daniel doesn’t kick you in your sleep-”

“Did Lyla call me adorable?”

Sean sighed as Daniel barged in. Not much had changed since home tehre at least, apart from the fact they now shared Karen’s attic room. (Bunk beds, making the being kicked in the shin at night thing even more annoying.)

“Hey, I’m kinda on the-”

Daniel yanked the phone and rolled on the bed. “Hiiiiii Lyla. Do you miss us?”

“Give me that back.”

He wiggled out of his grap. “Did you know Sean talks in his sleep, it’s so weird-”

“You would know about weird,” he grumbled, snatching his phone back, only to find the shitty signal had finally cut out on Lyla. “Dude.”

“Sorry.” Daniel grinned at him. “Hey, I’m helping Mom restock, can you help me reach the top shelves?”

He checked the time on his phone. He had almost managed a whole brother-free hour.

“Guess I should I get back to work.”

“Cool.” Daniel followed him downstairs, bouncing with energy. “Hey, Sean what does terf-face mean?”

Sean was stuck behind the register, although the store was still empty. He wasn’t sure why Karen insisted on such early opening hours when no one else showed up.

He rubbed his eyes, the early start not helped by the fact Daniel had been reading with a torch all night. He had picked up a weird book from the store or something. Of course he would pick up a late night reading habit once they were sharing a room.

“I brought you guys some toast.” Karen balanced the plate on the top of some unsold art books. (Her organization was as great as her parenting.)

“Thanks Mom!”

Sean poked at a black spot under a thick layer of peanut butter. “Yeah, thanks.”

“I gotta do some inventory but I’ll be back up for lunch.”

“Can we go to the cool diner? Chris says the milkshakes are great.”

Karen smiled. “Yeah. Does that sound good Sean?”

He grunted in response and her grin flickered.

“Right, work. You boys got this.”

“We’re not your boys,” Sean muttered, although she didn’t hear.

“Why are you so mean to Mom?” Daniel asked, his mouth full of toast. “She’s always nice.”

“Right, she’s been real nice the first nine years of your life.”

Daniel looked up at him with big eyes. “Sean…”

“Fine, I’ll try. Put those eyes away Bambi.”

He smiled. “So, I was thinking the strawberry milkshakes are Chris’ favourite but I like chocolate more so you could get one and we could share?”

“Huh, yeah, sure.” Sean had only been half listening, distracted by the newest customer. Waking up early suddenly had its appeal. The girl had matted purple hair, an arm full of tattoos and a guitar strapped to her back. She caught him looking and winked.

“Are you okay Sean? You just went really red and-”

“What? No. Shut up.” Sean moved into a more casual position, his eyes still fixed on the pretty girl. His elbow knocked the tip jar and it fell off the edge. “Shit-”

“Here.” Daniel put it back. “Woah…”

“Good catch Enano.”

“Yeah. Catch! I totally caught it.” Daniel smiled a little suspiciously. “Hey, you said a swear, you owe me a dollar.”

“A dollar? It’s only a quarter at home.”

“Now we’re away from Dad, you’re supposed to be a good influence.”

“You get a quarter.” Sean dropped the coin in his hand. “Be cool.”

“What?”

“Hey boys.” The purple-haired girl leaned against the other end of the counter, an easy smile on her face. Her voice had a faint Southern tang. “So, I come to this town every Summer and I don’t recognise either of you cuties.”

“I- we- um-”

His brother beat him to it. “I’m Daniel.”

Cursing his stammering, he finally managed to introduce himself. “I’m Sean.”

“Why hello. I’m Cassidy.”

“Hi. Um, cool guitar. You play?” (Internally, Sean cringed: You play? Why else would she have a guitar?)

“Yeah, funnily enough. I’m actually here to hand out flyers for my band’s show. Could you hang it up?”

“Yeah.” Sean took the flyer. “Your show is this Friday?”

“And every other Friday. You wanna come?”

“I’m invited?”

Cassidy laughed. “Yeah sure. It is a concert. You’re lucky you’re cute, City Boy.”

“City boy?”

“It’s on your sweatshirt idiot,” Daniel whispered. Seattle Track Meet, 2015. He was frowning in the general direction of Cassidy. “We’re busy Friday so-”

“No. Nope, I’m not busy. Ignore him.” Sean flattened his hair. “I’ll be there Friday.”

“I’ll look out for you City Boy. Nice to meet you.”

Sean waited until Cassidy had left before pumping his fist. “Yes! She called me cute Dan!”

“You’re the worst.”

“What?”

Daniel pouted. “You promised you’d take me camping in the woods Friday. I already brought us marshmallows and walkie-talkies.”

“Hey, there is plenty of time to camp in those freaky woods. But I only have one chance with a girl like Cassidy.”

“Wrong, you have zero chances with any girl.” Daniel stomped off to the corner of the store. “You’re the worst.”

“Dan- come on.” His brother went back to ignoring him. Sean crossed his arms. “Fine. Be like that!”

There was the only sound of a raspberry in response.

“Nope, I’m totally with Danny. That was a jerk move.”

“What? Lyla, you’re supposed to be my hype man- er woman. You’re always trying to set me up on dates.”

“Dude, three weeks ago you were so into Jenn.”

He sighed. “And Jenn was into Derek Anderson. We had ice cream and everything.”

“Dude, don’t fuck up your relationship with Danny over a dumb Summer romance.”

Sean buried his head in his pillow. “You sound like my Dad.”

“Go to this hippy girl’s show next time. You Danny will do the face.”

“The Bambi face?” Sean groaned. “I have been facing the Bambi face all week.”

Lyla scoffed. “Is there anything else to add?”

“Fine. I’ll go camping. But only for the s’mores.”

“Okay, brother of the year.”

“Thanks jerk.”

Lyla blew him an exaggerated kiss. “Aw, love you too.”

Sean grabbed his backpack, moving to shove in his hoodie and torch. Daniel had already shoved one of the walkie-talkies inside.

“Calling little wolf, we are back on for camping.”

There was nothing but static on the other end. Sean pocketed the walkie-talkie and headed downstairs, calling his brother’s name. There was no one in the kitchen and only Karen sitting in the living room, chewing on the edge of a pen.

“Hey, have you seen Daniel?”

Karen looked up. “Oh, I thought you already left? Daniel passed by twenty minutes ago with the sleeping bags.”

“That little-” Sean wasn’t panicking, but he was maybe sweating a little more than he had been before. “Um, right. I just forget a…” he scanned the room and grabbed Daniel’s weird book, “scary story. Classic camping right?”

“Oh. Have a nice time then.” Karen hesitated. “I know you’re not thrilled to be here. But I hope by the end of the Summer we can understand each other better.

“Me too.” Sean tried to look as un-guilty as possible. “See you tomorrow Karen.”

“Daniel!” He yelled, running head first into the spooky mass of woodlands beyond their store. “Dan, I’m sorry okay. Quit hiding!”

No answer. Sean went digging for the walkie-talkie, now glowing an eerie blue.

“Dan?”

The walkie-talkie crackled again- “Sean?”

“Dan.” He let out a shaky breath. “Hey, I’m sorry I ditched you-”

“Sean, help!”

He was clutching the walkie-talkie so hard his knuckles went white. “What’s wrong? I’m coming okay. What’s happening?”

“Creature- help- monster- ahh!”

Sean scanned the trees around him, suddenly aware he was lost too. Daniel had been the one eager to explore the woods but he had said it was too creepy and now it seemed he was being proven right.

“Sean- book- monster-”

He dug around to find the weird book Daniel had been carrying around all week. He had assumed it was from one of Karen’s displays but now he was looking at it, the journal seemed too real to go with the modern witchcraft bullshit she was trying to sell. The cover was dark blue and the pages thick with drawings and polaroids.

“Dan, I have the book, what do I need to look for? What is this thing?”

“Page- tree- monster-” Daniel was breathing heavily. “Hear?”

“I can hear you,” he said comfortingly, “I’m coming.”

He held the torch in his teeth, flicking through pages until he came across a few marked with Daniel’s doodles and writing. He seemed to be studying telekinetic powers, complete with a superhero sketch: SUPER /DUDE DAN/ WOLF? ask Sean for name ideas

He finally came across the page that looked like a bush drawn with yellow eyes.

Dangerous

camouflage shape shifters

Hard to photograph shush ma-

Likes dark

Under the original writing Daniel had added his own note: babies in woods.

“Hey,” Sean held up the walkie-talkie, “is it these moss creatures? What well?”

“Sean!” This time Daniel’s voice was clearer, his voice steadier.

“Dan. What happened? Please tell me you had a good reason to go into the woods alone without telling me or Karen.”

“Come on, that’s it? Can you yell at me when I’m not being chased?”

“Okay. I’m coming, where are you?”

“Where are you?”

“By some trees. There’s a sign for a lake?”

“Go to the lake, I’ll meet you there.” Daniel was cut off by some more static. “Hey, stop chewing that Mushroom!”

Sean followed the signs, hoping Daniel at least would know a way out. How did he know the woods so well already? Was Sean that much of a shitty brother he hadn’t noticed him running off into these haunted-ass woods?

The lake slowly came into the view but it was empty.

“Daniel? Dan?”

The lake was weirdly normal, just muddy water and a few droopy looking frogs. Still, Sean was still on edge, swinging the heavy torch from hand to hand. The faster they got home, the better.

His relative peace was interrupted by the rustling of tree branches and heavy footsteps. Daniel came barging through the trees, a small bundle of something wrapped in his checked shirt. Something was chasing him and fast- Sean barely had time to move out the way as Daniel crashed into him. Something big and fast ran past.

“Sean!” Daniel threw himself into his arms. “I’m sorry, don’t yell at me.”

“I’m not mad. But you did scare the shit out of me.”

“Sean-”

“Fine, you get a dollar, let’s just go-”

“No, look.”

Sean turned slowly, met with amber eyes and a large face of bark and weeds. The creature sniffed at him curiously.

“Um-”

Daniel hid behind him. “Any ideas?”

“You have the stupid haunted book!” The creature snorted, blowing hot air in his face. “Wait, the book said-” Sean slowly moved for his pocket, finding Dad’s lighter.

“Dan, on three, we run.”

“One-” he reached for a branch, “two-” he flicked the lighter on, “three!” Sean held the flaming branch up the creature’s face, dragging Daniel out the way as it squirmed. “What, the light should have scared it off.”

“Remember when you said you weren’t going to get mad?”

Sean turned to him, as Daniel revealed the squirming mass of moss in his arms.

“You stole it’s kid?”

“I always wanted a puppy! She’s called Mushroom-”

Seeing it’s child, the larger creature started inching slowly towards Daniel.

“Put it down! We can’t keep this weird monster-baby!”

“We bonded!” The larger creature nudged its nose towards the smaller one, poking his chest with a spikey horn. “Okay, I’ll give her back.”

Daniel held out his arms, placing the small creature on the floor. It wiggled a loose vine that could almost be a tail and followed its parents into the woods.

Sean punched him in the arm. “That’s for trying to adopt an actual monster.”

Daniel rubbed his arm. “Ouch.”

Sean pulled him into a hug. “And that’s for scaring the shit out of me. I’m glad you’re okay though.”

“Me too.” Daniel smiled. “Hey, now you owe me two dollars!”

After all the excitement, the brothers’ settled on camping in Karen’s yard.

“So, you found that spooky book in a tree and didn’t think to tell me?”

“You were being the worst!”

Sean laughed. “Okay, I deserve that. But, next time you find a weird monster thing, tell me. We’re in this together.”

“Okay promise.” Daniel threw another marshmallow at him. “Sorry I made you miss your concert. I guess Cassidy wasn’t that bad.”

“Hey, I saved your butt, that’s more important.” Sean took a bite out a s’more. “Hey, there isn’t anything else you’re not telling me right?”

“Actually,” Daniel held out his hand, a marshmallow hoovering a few inches above his palm. “Surprise?”

(A boring Summer suddenly looked so much more appealing.)

#Life is Strange 2 #Daniel Diaz #Sean Diaz #gravity falls #lis2

12 notes · View notes

handweavers · 4 years

Note

top 5 historical figures :3

there are sooo many i’ll just list the ones i find most interesting at the moment and most of them are roman bc i’ve been reading a lot about the ancient mediterranean lately :3 i tried to make it short but....well

1. the gracchi brothers (late roman republic) - tiberius gracchi was a tribune (basically a bureaucrat) who tried to institute land reform bills to combat the extreme wealth inequality and financial crisis plaguing the poor of rome that would redistribute land to poor people and limit the amount of land that could be owned by one person and the senators literally beat him to death in the street with their bare hands. his brother gaius then became a tribune and tried to do the same thing as well as pushed for the government to give subsidized grain to the urban poor so they wouldn’t starve to death all the time and the senators had him beheaded. they were later greatly admired by left radicals during the french revolution and later lenin in russia.

2. julie d’aubigny (late 17th century france) - sword-slinging bisexual opera singer who wore men’s clothes and seduced many men and women across europe. fell in love with another woman while working as an opera singer and the girl’s family found out and sent her to a convent, julie followed and set the convent on fire and ran away with her girlfriend. like a million things happened after her life was wild but this paragraph from an article on her makes me scream: “her career in paris was interrupted after she attended a court ball in men’s clothes and kissed a young woman on the dance floor, for which insult she was challenged to a duel by three different noblemen. she told each of them she would meet him outside, fought them all at once, and beat them all. but given that louis had outlawed duels, she had to flee to brussels, where she became the lover of the elector of bavaria. he found her a bit too much to handle after she stabbed herself on stage with a real dagger, and offered her 40,000 francs to leave him alone. she threw the coins at the feet of his emissary and stomped off to madrid in a huff.” queen

3. elagabalus (roman emperor c. 218 ce) - this short-lived syrian emperor ascended to the throne aged 14 and was very very very probably a trans girl. i’ll use she/her pronouns bc while i really don’t know how she would have identified within our current framework historical context blah blah blah literally....as a trans person... elagabalus was trans. elagabalus named herself after the latin version of the name of the syrian sun god, and became “notorious” for dressing as a woman, decked in wigs, makeup, and fashionable frocks. she married four women and a male athlete, and also fell in love with her charioteer, a slave named hierocles. elagabalus apparently “delighted to be called the mistress, the wife, the queen of hierocles,” preferred to be called a woman, and reputedly offered to reward any doctor who could give her bottom surgery to have a vulva. she didn’t really care about the roman religion and replaced several roman deities including jupiter with syrian gods. she was also reported to have engaged in sex work, and lavished favours on male courtiers. she was known for being “extremely eccentric and decadent” and she was assassinated in 222 ce aged approx. 18 years of age. modern historians and contemporary writers of her time have been incredibly cruel to her but i think she was really cool and i like that she just did whatever she wanted, and she really didn’t deserve to die like she was literally just a teenager. also think its incredibly funny that she didn’t give a fuck about the roman pantheon and just played around with it and added all of her syrian gods to it and got rid of the roman ones and when it pissed off all of the senators she was like “so????” we stan

4. al-khayzuran (abbasid queen-mother, wife, and slave c. 8th century ce) her story is really complex and fascinating but basically, she was of yemeni arab descent and was sold into slavery before becoming the favourite concubine of the abbasid caliph al-mahdi and mothering two children who would go on to become caliphs themselves. during the reign of her husband and her two children, she was their de-facto co-ruler and involved herself in politics outside of the harem (women’s quarters), which was unusual for the time. this article on her is really good and this bit summarizes her well: “harun al-rashid (r. 786-809), arguably one of the greatest of the abbasid caliphs, is well known to many historians and history enthusiasts for his deeds and for presiding over the “golden age” of the abbasid caliphate. however, his mother, khayzuran, does not lay as much claim to fame as her illustrious son, despite the fact that she was the power behind his throne (while she lived) and that of his father and brother before him. during her life and career khayzuran rose from the status of slave to becoming the caliph, al-mahdi’s (r. 775-785), favorite concubine, and then his legal wife and a queen in her own right who wielded an immense amount of political power and whose wealth was second only to that of her husband’s in the entire caliphate. this feat was impressive not only because khayzuran was able to elevate herself from slavery to royalty, but also because she did it during an era when social mobility, for both men and women, was very limited or in most cases impossible.” also, one of my favourite bits of info about her: when her son, caliph al-hadi, disrespected her and threatened to have her favourite son (harun al-rashid) killed and attempted to assassinate her, she secretly had HIM assassinated by getting some of her pretty female slaves to seduce and then smother him with pillows, which made harun al-rashid caliph of the abbasid empire.

5. as always......hadrian (roman emperor c. 117-138 ce) - he was born in roman spain and became emperor after trajan, and is considered one of the last “good five emperors” prior to the decline of western rome. he spent most of his reign travelling across the empire basically as a tourist, wanting to learn as much as possible about everything, and constructing new buildings as he went including hadrian’s wall in brittania. he had “an insatiable curiosity about everything and everybody. the christian writer tertullian called him omnium curiositatum explorator, an explorer of everything interesting. that curiosity was bred of a keen intellect and an anguished spirit.” he was interested in astrology, greek poetry, and considered himself an “aesthete” who would climb mount etna and jabal agra (in sicily and syrian antioch respectively) just to watch the sun rise. he wore a beard in the greek style even though he was mocked by his senators (but the beard would become a trend that future emperors would follow) and they considered him to be complicated and often paradoxical - he could be extremely kind and also very cruel, loud and rapacious and yet gentle and compassionate, rational and logical and yet completely irrational, etc. his marriage was childless, likely because he was gay and not at all interested in women. he developed an intense relationship with a turko-greek youth antinous, who later died under suspicious circumstances and hadrian’s grief was so immense he had thousands of statues erected for him and immortalized him in the roman pantheon of gods. to this day people across the former roman empire still find statues of antinous, accidentally digging them up in their backyards. in extreme contrast, he was also the emperor who suppressed the bar kokhba revolt in judea, basically wiped judea off the map and replaced it with the region of syria palestina, and this war resulted in the deaths of thousands of jewish people, and those who survived were sold into slavery or exiled. this event basically created the concept of jewish people as a diaspora, the major exile. this was the only major war or conflict during his reign - the rest was notably peaceful - but it was one of the bloodiest in roman history and the consequences of it are still extremely relevant. i find him a really fascinating historical figure as a result of all of these paradoxes and because he was ultimately responsible for one of the most consequential actions in world history.

#i meant to type this in 5 minutes but well........#god help me #long post #transmisogyny tw #antisemitism tw

37 notes · View notes

cringeyvanillamilk · 4 years

Note

Yoo~! Your modern au series is pretty entertaining. Please do one for Gordon (and Grey and Gauche too if you don't mind; I love this trio) in the future! 😊❣❣

I finally finished your request!! I’m happy to finally draw these three, especially Gordon! I hope you enjoy~! <3

Gordon Agrippa

Loves reading various types of books, specifically ones about the power of friendship

Has a lot of knowledge on pharmaceutical drugs and medicine due to family background

Current Career: Freelance Writer, but currently works at Black Bull’s cafe

Was part of the book club and knitting club at Clover academy

Performs poetry every night at the Black Bull’s cafe

Fashion: Gordon has a love for gothic victorian inspired fashion. He finds this type of fashion to be aesthetically pleasing, which is greatly inspired by his family who also loves this particular clothing style. Any clothes with chains, belts, and studs will most likely catch his eyes. He also loves wearing his signature cap with his outfit. The colors that he usually wears are mostly black, grey, and red. He likes to wear gothic jewelry where he sees fits and completes the look with dark eyeshadow, black lipstick, and black nail polish. Despite this dark image, Gordon loves to decorate himself with cute and bright buttons to make himself more approachable. The buttons include a happy face, a pansexual flag, and a strawberry. Overall, Gordon’s fashion is goth with a sprinkle of cute accessories.

The Agrippa family had an infamous reputation of owning a pharmacy store that was rumored to secretly provide immoral people with drugs that could potentially poison those they want dead. While this rumor was true generations ago, Gordon’s father, Nathan, wanted to turn their family’s reputation around and become a pharmacist that helps people with their health. But due to the lack of proper communication between Nathan and Gordon, Gordon assumes that his father wants to continue their family’s sick tradition and left to live on his own near the capital. While Gordon successfully attended Clover academy through achievements and awards in writing, he spent the majority of his life in isolation. Even though he joined a lot of clubs in the academy, people still didn’t want to befriend him. And despite getting his English degree, Gordon has trouble getting jobs due to his intimidating appearance. After being rejected by a lot of jobs, Gordon decided to stop by the Black Bull’s cafe to rest and find more jobs to apply. This is where he met Yami who noticed that Gordon was looking for a job and offered him a spot at the Black Bull’s cafe since they are short of staff. Yami also commented that his creepy appearance would be perfect to bring in more customers. This was the first time Gordon experienced someone wanting him to be a part of something and was overwhelmed with happiness. He now works happily at the Black Bull’s cafe while also looking for a job that fits his passion.

Random Fact: Gordon is an amazing cook. He is part of the cooking team at Black Bull’s cafe along with Charmy and Gauche. He specializes in desserts and can make any types of sweets (e.g., cake, cookies, etc.). Gordon usually makes cookies for the staff to eat with each cookie representing each one of them. Gordon isn’t good at designing people in his baking and so they look very creepy. He’s really good at making Halloween themed desserts, even when he isn’t trying. Since strawberry shortcake is his favorite food, you’ll always see him make it every day. His love for strawberry shortcake is the reason behind his strawberry button.

Gauche Adlai

Owns a mirror that was previously owned by his deceased parents

Had a bad reputation from stealing from stores and getting into street fights when he lived in the streets

Possible major: Photography

Has a room full of photos of just Marie, but he has a secret stash where the photos are of the Black Bull’s cafe employees being happy (don’t tell anyone)

Has won many photography competitions with each photo being related to Marie in some way

Fashion: Gauche doesn’t pay too much attention to his daily clothes, but he does know how to dress himself for any occasion. He prefers tasteful and simple clothes, nothing too fancy. You’ll usually see him with a collar shirt, jacket, and slacks. He also likes wearing vintage shoes because he finds it aesthetically pleasing to his eyes. He generally shops at any thrift store nearby, unless it’s Marie then he’ll shop at an expensive clothing store. Gauche’s fashion may lean more towards hipster if he spends a lot of money on himself. Overall, simple but somewhat stylish.

When Gauche and Marie were young, they had a healthy relationship with their parents who loved and cared for them with all their heart. Their father was a respected and rich businessman and their mother was a famous war photographer. Each time their mother would come back home from her trips, she would usually share the happy photos she took to Gauche and Marie. Seeing these happy pictures inspired Gauche to follow in her footsteps in becoming a photographer. Gauche specifically wanted to take pictures of people who are happy because seeing people smile makes him feel good. But one goal he hopes to complete is creating a photo album of his family being happy together. After receiving his first camera from his father, Gauche was ready to start his photo album once his mother came back home from her trip. When Gauche’s father went to pick up their mother from the airport, Gauche and Marie received terrible news that they both died in a ‘car accident’ on their way back home. This accident was actually orchestrated by his uncle who wanted to inherit their wealth and kicked Gauche and Marie out of their mansion. After being left on the streets, Gauche decided to take it upon himself and take care of Marie like how his parents would’ve wanted him to. Acting as a reliable older brother and the only family Marie has, they frequently moved to different locations to look for food and shelter. They were later taken in by an orphanage led by sister Theresa. Gauche had a talent in photography and was pushed by sister Theresa to compete in various contests where he won 1st place in each one. These great achievements led him to be chosen by Clover academy, but quickly rejected the offer since that would mean he’ll have to dorm at the academy away from Marie. During their walks, Marie found out about Gauche’s rejection to the academy and was upset that Gauche would decline such a great offer. Gauche argues that he doesn’t want to leave her alone which made Marie feel even more frustrated and ran inside a nearby cafe. This is where he met Yami, who happened to eavesdrop on their conversation. Yami reasoned that if Gauche really cared for Marie, he’d bring in more money to support her if he managed to graduate from the academy and go to college. Then when he’s financially secured, he and Marie can live on their own with no need for outside assistance. Yami’s words were able to convince Gauche to proceed in attending Clover academy which made Marie happy. As a way to show thanks, Marie said if the cafe needed any help, Gauche would be happy to work for him. Gauche was about to disagree but Yami was quick to accept Gauche into the cafe and promise Marie that he’ll keep Gauche busy. Gauche had no say in the matter since Marie already sealed the deal with Yami.

Random Fact: Gauche has a talent in art. Whether it’s sculpting, drawing, painting, or knitting, Gauche can replicate anything he sees. Even in baking, he can replicate any object or person as a cake. In fact, Gauche’s extraordinary skills would’ve been perfect for the recent cake cutting trend. However, Gauche mainly uses his younger sister, Marie, as a model for all of his artistic creations. If you go inside his room, you’ll see a shrine of sculptures, drawings, paintings, and dolls of Marie.

Grey

Likes to cosplay and attend conventions

Finds comfort in watching Cinderella

Possible major: Acting

Was an exceptional actress back in high school and would get chosen for lead roles but always decline these roles because of her sisters bullying

Has a great singing voice and likes to hum whenever she cleans

Fashion: Grey is incredibly shy and so her fashion reflects this. Grey’s casual attire is very modest and rarely shows a lot of skin. She likes to wear sweaters, long pants or skirts, and blue flats that her father got her as a birthday present. However, whenever she imitates a character for a cosplay or theater play, she becomes a completely different person and could wear very revealing clothes if it fits the character she’s impersonating. Grey likes showing off a lot of skin when she’s in character because this gives her an excuse to be confident in herself. Outside of her cosplays, Grey rarely wears jewelry since she thinks she doesn’t deserve to decorate herself with pretty things. Grey does value her belt since it was another gift from her father. Overall, Grey’s fashion is modest and warm.

Grey came from a middle class family where she used to live with her father, stepmother, and two elder stepsisters. Her father owns a small boutique store and her stepmother co-owns the store with her father. While her father showered Grey with love, her stepmother and stepsisters mistreated her and forced her to do all the chores in the house. They frequently lied to her father saying that she always wanted to do all the chores and didn't like going out with them since she prefers to stay at home. Because Grey’s father was oblivious of his daughter’s struggles, he never questioned it whenever they would go out without her. Grey was too meek to speak out and so she would go along with what they said in silence. During her time alone, she would always watch anime or DVDs of musical plays whenever she was done cleaning the place and making food. Grey always dreamed of being an actress in a play or show, but would get ridiculed for wanting to pursue such a career. Grey still tries to participate in various plays or get into cosplay where she gets to act like a completely different person. Grey finds herself comfortable as another character and still yearns to be an actress and so she auditioned for her school’s plays. She would get chosen for major roles in the plays, but when her stepsisters found out, they bullied her into going for a minor role instead. After graduating high school, Grey was ordered to stay home and not go to college to continuously be a servant for the family. Despite wanting to go to college to be an actress, Grey obeyed and continued to take care of the house for many years. It wasn’t until one day when Grey wanted to find a way to get closer to her stepsisters where she decided to dress up and perfectly transformed herself into looking like one of her stepsisters. Her stepsisters were outraged by her impersonation and threatened her which made Grey run away in fear. While on the streets, Grey was jumped by three muggers, but was saved by Gauche by Marie’s request. Gauche said if she’s running away, she should try and live for herself which inspired Grey to follow Gauche into the Black Bull’s cafe. With no courage to go back home, she was told by Vanessa that she could live at her place in the meantime while she gets back on her feet. Gauche commented that she should also start working at the cafe if she wanted to make enough money to support herself now that she’s starting fresh. Grey gratefully took Vanessa and Gauche’s offer and so now lives with Vanessa at her apartment, attends the same college as Gauche, and works at the Black Bull’s cafe.

Random Fact: Grey is great at doing makeup when she wants to replicate another character or person for her cosplay or costume. Whenever she attends anime conventions, she is complimented a lot for perfectly imitating the characters she cosplayed as. Even during cosplay contests, she would always place 1st place for her high quality clothes, wigs, and makeup. Grey thanks her father for teaching her these skills when she was young.

#black clover #Gordon Agrippa #gauche adlai #grey #modern au #my art #answered #I feel like I wrote a lot for their backstories in comparison to the other ones I've done-#I think I got too excited that's why-#Thank you for the request~!#I HOPE THEIR BACKSTORIES MAKE SENSE?

54 notes · View notes

sagemoderocklee · 3 years

Note

Reiteration ❤️ A (but not GaaLee :p) P T

A - Your current OTP(s)/OT3(s)/OTX(s)

oof. okay so aside from GaaLee:

1) ShikaTema 2) NejiTen 3) Kakagai

i think these are the only like three ships i could say i feel strongly enough about that i’d classify them as OTPs. GaaLee honestly gets its own category anyways. im not really active in any other fandoms, and the only other ship I’ve ever felt as strongly about as i have gaalee was really Harry/Draco and well... ya know. Although if i were still super active in CLAMP fandom KuroFai and DouWata would 100000% be up there. And of course the forever and unbeatable Sakura/Shaoran but specifically CCS SakuShao because I think TRC isn’t quite as good with their romance

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas)

oh. that’s. okay we’re answering hard questions tonight i see.

something niche for you and me: new member of your MLM/communist/leftist reading group is Very Cute but very new to MLM/etc and needs extra help to understand the complicated history, theories, etc.

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending, about anything at all (gender identity, sexual or romantic orientation, extended family, sexual preferences like top/bottom/switch, relationship with poetry, seriously anything).

oh god. this is really opening a can of worms lmao and also.... i may have to put this under a cut because god i have so fucking many and some of them may need elaboration.

1. Gaara doesn’t ever take up sleeping/napping post Shukaku

this is something that I know a lot of ppl don’t like/want because everyone wants Gaara to be happy and like big same! but i do think that Gaara’s physiology is entirely altered from Shukaku and the lack of sleep. I feel like having it ingrained in him that he couldn’t sleep, knowing the devastation it would cause, plus all the trauma he has--he’d be plagued by nightmares first of all, and no shinobi is gonna wanna take a sleep aid or something to help them sleep more easily because that would just be a huge opening for someone to attack you. but the other thing is i think it would genuinely make him feel sick. like i know that when i get too little sleep i feel sick because my body needs a certain amount. BUT i also know that those days where im too depressed and don’t get out of bed and sleep too much i ALSO feel like shit. Gaara has lived his entire life without sleep--barring specific instances of forced sleep to release Shukaku--and his body has to have adapted to that. fifteen years of not sleeping there’s no way his body would know what to do with that. his body is so used to subsisting (and this is my own like explanation for how Gaara survived pre and post Shukaku) off of massive quantities of food and by funneling his own chakra into his brain to act as rest, healing, etc. like i think at this point it’s so unconscious that he isn’t even aware he’s doing it anymore--like breathing. His chakra--which is already another physiological system in their bodies--is just taking up the job of the rest portion of his brain.

that all being said, i do still think this will have an overall affect on his lifespan, but not necessarily his physical or mental health in the immediate sense.

2. Kankuro is straight.

this goes for like all the characters i see as straight, and like i hate like putting this in the like “die defending” category, but there’s this sort of.... sense that when you’re LGBT in fandom you’re gonna see every character as gay and you’re sus/someone’s gonna side eye you if you don’t. like i get the whole ‘well obviously everything is straight and cis IRL, and im sick of it’ reasoning behind “everyone is gay/trans” but the thing is.... I wanna see cis and straight people who support their gay/trans friends and family. I don’t need to live in a world where no one is straight and cis. I need to live in a world where people who are straight and cis actually support and love LGBT people. i personally don’t get anything out of the fantasy of no straight cis people because what does that solve? and what does that say about the homophobia and transphobia within the series? It doesn’t solve or say anything. And quite frankly a series like Naruto is inherently homophobic and transphobic (especially trans misogynistic), and i think brushing that aside with an “everyone’s gay/trans” is more insulting than helpful because it’s not addressing the issue. I’m more invested in seeing the characters who aren’t LGBT supporting and loving and working to make the world better for their LGBT friends, family, and community.

like i know not everyone is writing/reading fanfiction or art or what have you in fandom for like realism or whatever, i get the whole escapism of it all, but i approach it this way because for me I just don’t get anything out of pretending that the -isms and -phobias within the series don’t exist.

also straight trans people exist?????

i could go on about this--like some characters are just... not good and i don’t wanna claim that as LGBT because of that--but like i think this is the biggest thing for me at the end of the day: seeing ppl who aren’t LGBT supporting LGBT ppl.

3. Gaara is a polyglot. Also, he’s self-taught in just about everything. He spent most of his youth in the Suna library for obvious reasons, so reading, writing, language, poetry, history, politics, arts, etc he learned there on his own.

4. Shikamaru and Temari live in Suna 6 months out of the year, and Konoha the other 6. Temari does NOT give up her job to be a nagging wife, and Shikamaru is 100% a wife man.

5. Lee is not originally from Konoha or Fire. He doesn’t remember his parents or how he wound up at a Konoha orphanage because trauma. Also his first language isn’t Japanese.

I have more specific HCs about who Lee’s parents are, where he came from, and what happened to his parents, but that’s like spoilers for a fic.

6. Tenten is not an outright orphan. She actually comes from a clan of weapons masters and smiths.

I think it’s fairly common for ppl to assume Tenten is an orphan because we obviously never see her family--granted we just don’t see much of her to begin with--but I personally fell in love with the idea of her having a clan with the focus being weapons. Her parents are still dead, but she lives with her grandmother, who’s renowned for her weapons.

7. Lee has a HUGE amount of chakra. Like obnoxiously huge stores of it that he just doesn’t know how to manipulate--not quite Kisame levels, but definitely a LOT. He gets as far as walking on water and walls, but he absolutely has to be focused to accomplish those feats and prefers just going really fast so he doesn’t fall in/off.

8. Sage mode!Rock Lee.

I have talked about this before(x, x), but you can absolutely pry this from my cold dead hands--actually, you couldn’t. I’d still hold on to this even in death.

9. Lee has like a photographic memory which is why he always writes things down that people tell him.

10. Gaara will be the last Kazekage--whoever comes after him (and i do have a HC for that) will be Kazekage only in the sense that they’re like the figurehead maybe, but ultimately Gaara is working to completely change the shinobi way of life and the Kage system will be dismantled starting with Suna/Gaara.

11. In a modern AU context, Lee is a HUGE fan of Queen and Bruce Lee.

12. Lee definitely grows his hair out later on in life and changes up his attire and becomes his own person.

13. The Kazekage Estate is a generation home--most households in Suna are, and in fact, it’s really fucking weird for someone not to live in a generational home--so Gaara lives there with his siblings. When Temari gets married, she and Shikamaru live there, and continue to do so when they have kids. If Kankuro has a kid (and a spouse), they’ll live there too. Lee eventually moves in. The house is always filled with love. When Gai visits with Kakashi, or when Tenten and Neji visit, they stay there too.

8 notes · View notes

yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

The Crucible (part eight)

[Carrie AU; UK Tour]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Word count: 10,126

TW: None, for once lol

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

-Dreamer In Disguise-

“Tell us about the night of May 28th. Of the events leading up to the incident.”

Katherine grit her teeth tightly, then exhaled a sharp breath through her nose, releasing her mounting anger. Her eyes were stinging, like fire ants were infested in the sockets and wouldn’t come out no matter how hard she scratched. Her face was still blotchy and washed out from crying, but she held herself as confidently as always, not willing to give into the crime Mulaney so desperately wanted her to be a part of.

“It was meant to be a celebration.” Katherine said strongly. Her voice held no evidence that she had been crying just a few minutes ago. “It was supposed to be the biggest night of our high school lives. The ending of one chapter and the beginning of the next. If only--” Her words caught for a moment, but she would not break again. “If only--”

“If only what?” Mulaney urged.

“If only I hadn’t told Anna to go to prom with Joan!” Katherine exploded, slamming her palms on the table and making even Madeline jump and Mulaney look at her more warily. It pleased her, and she eased back down, steadying her sharpening breath. “Then maybe nobody would have died. But just because I should have done that, doesn’t mean I regret having her go.”

Mulaney’s eyes glinted and he leaned in, hungry for a confession.

“Anna sent me a picture.” Katherine said. She took out her phone and slid it over the tabletop. The screen showed an image of Anna and Joan, grinning brightly at the camera with two other kids, George Boleyn, Anne’s younger brother, and his girlfriend, Jane Parker. “Look at how happy she is… I’ve never seen her smile like that before. So carefree and peaceful…”

She put her phone back into her pocket and shook her head. She blew out a sigh from her nose.

“That’s why I don’t wish I didn’t have Anna ask her.” She said. “She was happy for the first time in her life. Truly happy. And who am I to take that away from her?”

Her eyes began to burn again. She fingered her shredded tissue, a whirlwind of emotions storming inside her skull. She wanted to release it on this skeptical detective before her and show him that she was innocent.

“I hope it was good for her. That prom. Before things went to hell.”

------

It was like a dream. An actual perfect dream.

The prom glimmered in droplets of amber and gold, sapphire and jade, obsidian and pearl. Fragments of gods and goddesses and mythical creatures prowled across the walls in detailed murals, capturing ancient battles in their canvases forever.

The gym had been morphed into a huge, vaulted space that hummed with activity. Intricately carved Greek pillars and spires and arches dotted the space, and green and silver drapes of silk dipped from the ceiling. White fairy lights were lit up everywhere, casting soft glows across various tapestries and weavings decorating the walls and architecture. Miniature recreations of temples acted as buffets for the hundreds of partygoers, bearing chips and cookies and cakes and other treats. There was even a large bowl-like piece that was shaped like the Great Theater of Epidaurus, holding salad condiments around the wide sides and lettuce in the middle. A chocolate fountain burbled on a nearby table, the most modern-looking piece of decor in there.

The food temples encircled a giant white fake-marble tree that the origins of were unknown to mostly everyone. The trunk was carved with intricate designs that looked like they had taken hours to scratch away, and the lush shrubbery it bore was braided with silver lights, making the entire decoration a beacon of sterling radiance. Transparent ice blue globes hung from the many reaching branches, lit up with fake candles inside of their hallowed out interior. They glowed like captured moons within the party.

The stage was set up to look like the Parthenon, with white pillars along the apron and wings, coiled by ivy and flowers. Golden and iridescent fabric braided the top, glistening in the fairy lights. A hired band was set up at the center, along with the DJ booth, which played most of the music. Behind them were the thrones for prom king and queen, all shiny and poised, ready for their royals.

Music catapulted around the high, canvas-covered walls like thread winding around and around the assembled students. The sound seemed to swallow Joan up, reverberating in her bones. Partygoers whirled together on the dance floor, the colors of their suits and dresses sparkling in bright tornadoes. They stomped and jumped and clapped in time to the beat of the music, a kaleidoscope of rainbow rhythm.

However, the highlight of the ball were the sculptures. There were at least ten different elaborate carvings sparkling importantly in the party space. Twisting spirals, weaving tendrils, and delicate beads mingled with glorious bells and vast shipwrecks, towering trees and clusters of griffon feathers. Joan wanted to run her hands over all of their smooth, bubbly surfaces.

“Anna.” Joan squeezed Anna’s arm tightly. “Anna, Anna, Anna, Anna--”

“Yeah?” Anna looked down at her.

“Look.” Joan pointed to the sculpture garden with her free hand.

“Wanna go look at them?”

Joan nodded vigorously. Anna chuckled. They both began to walk over, and Joan nearly dragged Anna when she leapt forward to look at the closest sculpture, a beautiful, branching ice tree with fat orbs of sugary fruit.

“It’s so pretty…” Joan murmured, her eyes sparkling.

“No wonder it’s so cold in here,” Anna observed. “They have to keep these from melting. Damn, this must have taken forever.”

“Yeah…” Joan nodded slowly, like she was taking in the secrets of the universe. “Ooh, look at that one!”

The two of them went over to a sculpture of roaring waves with captured pieces of poetry within their depths. Joan ogled at the ice with great interest, taking the time to read every piece of paper inside. Anna patiently let her, smiling at her look of awestruck wonderment. She was glad she was distracted so she didn’t notice all the stares they were getting.

But Joan did. She had picked up on it from the moment they stepped inside. It seemed like everyone in the entire gym was staring at her like she was an alien from outer space. She did her best to ignore all of them, but she could feel their eyes burning holes into her skin.

She’s never felt so exposed before, not even in the showers last Friday.

“Why, Anna von Cleves!”

A voice cut through the music and talking and laughter rebounding throughout the gym. Joan spun around and saw two people approaching them- a brunette boy with amber eyes, wearing a black tux, a silvery grey undershirt peeking out around the collar, and a blood red rose boutonniere, and a girl she didn’t recognize. She was taller than her date and had curled dirty blonde hair and grey-green eyes. Her dress was long and flowing, ebony black like the boy’s but dappled with silver specks like stars. The straps were thin and the bodice was gathered and fitted snugly against her bust.

“George!” Anna embraced the boy tightly in one of those “man hugs” men always seem to do, rapping his back so hard it sounded a little painful.

“You look good enough to eat, honey!” George whistled, looking Anna up and down.

“Some would say I am delicious.” Anna said.

“Okay, if you two knew how many people thought you were dating, you wouldn’t be joking about it.” The girl piped up, looking amused.

“Tell Anna to stop looking so goddamn queer!” George chortled.

“You know I always gotta look a little lesbo.” Anna said.

Then, George raised his fists and Joan flinched back a little. She flexed her powers, prepared to save Anna, but then Anna raised her fists, too, and began throwing playful jabs and poked at George’s stomach and chest. George did the same, and they began circling each other like two tuxedo-clad cats standing off against each other for a dead mouse. Joan realized that it was a game of sorts.

“Don’t let it bother you,” The girl said to Joan. “If they kill each other, I’ll dance with you.”

Joan couldn’t smother the smile that came to her lips. She looked down shyly for a moment, then lifted her head again to watch George’s and Anna’s sparring match. Anna tagged George twice, then got jabbed in the waist. They kept grunting and gobbling playful threats to each other.

“They’re too silly to kill,” Joan observed, tilting her head at them. “Like dinosaurs.”

The girl laughed and smiled, and Joan felt something warm flood through her.

Was this what delight felt like?

“Joan,” Anna said. She and George had stopped fighting and she now had an arm around his shoulders. “This is my best buddy, George Boleyn! And this is his girlfriend, Jane Parker. She goes to Chamberlain.”

She didn’t go to Kingston. So maybe that’s why she was being so friendly.

Joan liked it.

“George, Jane, this is Joan.” Anna continued.

“Joan, hi,” Jane smiled down at the girl.

“Joan!” George exclaimed. “Oh shit. Hey, can I just personally apologize for all my sister’s bullshit? I wish I could say she isn’t always like that, but…” He trailed off with a dry laugh.

“Wait…” Joan began to put the pieces together. “George Boleyn… You’re Anne’s brother?”

George laughed. “Yup. The youngest of the bunch. We have an older sister in college named Mary. She turned out pretty okay.”

“...I’m sorry.”

George burst out into even louder laughter. He shook Anna’s side, wiping a tear from his eyes.

“Oh, Anna, I love this girl!” He said.

Joan blushed dark red, ducking her head. Anna grinned at her.

“She’s great, isn’t she?” She said.

There was a light touch on Joan’s shoulder, warm and soft, easy for her to shrug off if she wanted. She turned her head to see that it was Jane’s hand.

“I love your dress,” Jane said. “Where did you get it?”

“I made it.” Joan told her.

“Made it?” Jane gaped, looking the length of the sparkling silk gown up and down. “No shit!”

Joan blinked a few times, then echoed, “No shit.”

Jane laughed. Anna grinned even more. Joan felt like a sinful little rebel.

“You really made that?” George asked.

“Oh, now who’s queer?” Anna said, earning her a smack on the arm.

“I did.” Joan answered George. “I like to sew.”

“You have got to teach me sometime!” Anna said. “I tried before but it didn’t turn out so well. A sweater somehow became a snake warmer.”

They all laughed. Joan felt glee bubbling up inside of her the longer and longer she talked to Anna and her friends. It was so nice to be a part of conversations and share her talents with other people.

“Yeah, of course,” Joan said to Anna.

“Hey, ladies,” Said a heavily sneering voice. “And Anne’s brother.”

Maggie, Maria, and a boy came gliding over. Maggie was wearing a pure white toga with gold lace to fit the Greek theme, while the boy, tall and tired-looking, was in a maroon tux. Maria wore a bright tangerine orange dress that had no sleeves and was loaded with fake jewels to make her gown sparkle.

“Hello,” Anna said. There was a sort of warning in her voice, like she was daring the three of them to try something and see what happened.

“Joan!” Maggie exclaimed in a very forced friendly voice. “Wow. You look so...different!”

Joan struggled not to squirm. She didn’t like the way Maggie was looking at her, like she was being sized up. Jane stood tall beside her, a protector of sorts, narrowing her eyes at Maggie.

“Thanks,” Joan mumbled. The bedazzled gems encrusted on Maria’s dress caught her attention and she looked at her in wonder. “Wow… You’re so shiny.”

Maggie snorted. “Shiny?” She said. “Joan, what are you talking about?”

“You made The Human Tide,” Joan went on, ignoring her. She lifted one of Maria’s hands in her own, tracing the lines on her palms. “Passion and lust, envy and yearning, wrath and guilt…” She looked up at her, eyes shining. “Did you put some Sylvia Plath in there?”

“What?” Maggie said uneasily.

“I-I did,” Maria stammered in an oddly rapt way. “I didn’t think anyone would have noticed… Nobody ever understands my pieces.”

“I’m very observant,” Joan stated. “Charles Dickens and Edgar Allen Poe and lines from the Odyssey…”

“Okay, not you’re literally just saying random names.” Maggie said. She looked at the others. “What is going on?”

“Shh.” George shushed her, earning him an evil glare that he deftly dodged around Anna.

“It was very beautiful.” Joan said, releasing Maria’s hand.

“Thank you,” Maria said, wide-eyed. “That--that means a lot. Thank you.”

Joan smiled at her. She looked at Anna in a sort of glance of approval and Anna grinned back at her.

“This is so fucking weird,” Maggie hissed under her breath, the swept away into the crowd. Maria and her date lingered around.

“Oh, hey,” George suddenly said to the boy in the maroon tux. “I know you from...Trigonometry? You’re William, right?”

“Yeah,” The boy, William, nodded.

“Where’d you get your dress?” Maria asked Joan at the same time.

“She made it.” Jane said.

“I made it.”

Maria looked Joan up and down, sort of like Jane did, then said, “Shut up!”

Joan flinched slightly and bristled. “You shut up!”

Maria laughed. Anna set a hand on Joan’s shoulder to relax her, chuckling slightly.

“Really, you made that?” Maria asked.

Joan nodded. “It’s a really simple pattern. I also got the fabric really cheap.”

“Wow.” Maria said. “Give it a twirl!”

“What?”

“Twirl your dress!” Maria specified, then demonstrated, spinning in a shimmering circle of orange and silver. “Like that!”

“Oh--” Joan blinked. “Okay.” She twirled for them.

Maria gasped loudly. “LOOK AT YOUR ASS!!!”

Joan yelped and leapt backwards against Anna, eyes bulging. George burst into laughter. William leaned to the side slightly to get a look and nodded in approval.

“Now THAT’S queer!” George chortled.

“Okay, after seeing your ass, the whole ‘nun in street clothes’ thing is no longer acceptable.” Maria said to Joan.

Joan’s bewildered expression does not lessen. In fact, she looked even more confused and startled after hearing that. Jane leaned down to her and whispered, “It was a compliment.”

“You’re glowing,” Maria said. “You really do look great, Joan. So different!”

Joan blushed shyly. “Thank you.”

Someone gently took Joan’s arm. “Let’s go find our table.” Jane said, and began guiding Joan through the crowd. “Yikes. Why is everyone acting so weird around you?”

“I’m not--usually like this.” Joan said. “All nice and pretty and dressed up. I’m kinda weird…”

“I like weird.” Jane said. “It makes you special.”

Joan ducked her head to hide her bashful expression. Jane chuckled.

“Here we are!” They stop at an empty table that was coiled with ivy and violets. Three candles flickered on the tabletop. Anna and George caught up to them.

“They’re really trusting us with real candles?” George said, peering at the small flames. “Not the best decision they could have made.”

“How are you doing?” Anna asked, sitting down next to Joan. “Feeling alright? Need to go out and get some fresh air? I know parties like this can be a little much. With everyone packed together and whatnot.”

Joan’s heart fluttered in her chest. She’s never had someone be so worried about her before. Anna genuinely cared about how she was feeling.

“I’m okay,” She answered. “It’s a lot, though. I’ve never been to a place like this before. It’s amazing.”

“It’s not so bad once you get used to it,” Jane put in.

Joan nodded. “I hope I’m doing okay. Again, this isn’t really my crowd, you know?”

“You’re doing great.” Anna told her. “Trust me.”

“Joan?” A voice called.

George leapt to his feet instantly and dragged Jane with him to go visit with another table, saluting Anna and Joan as he careened away. The remaining duo blinked, then realized what he was fleeing from.

It was Miss Aragon.

The gym coach appeared from the crowd in glistening swathes of gold, like an angel descending from heaven. Her dark brown hair was elegantly curled, framing her makeup-covered face perfectly. The dress she wore was smooth, with no wrinkles or frills, and had short sleeves so her muscles could be revealed to wandering eyes. A black pendant hung around her strong neck, glinting like polished onyx in the light.

“Oh, Miss Aragon!” A smile came to Joan’s face the moment she saw her favorite teacher. “You look incredible!”

“Thank you.” Miss Aragon said. “You look beautiful.”

Joan ducked her head humbly. “That’s very nice of you,” She said. “I know it isn’t true, but thank you anyway.”

Miss Aragon and Anna both ruffled slightly at that.

“Don’t be modest,” Miss Aragon said. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

Joan blushed. “Thank you… Really, thank you.”

“Hey, Miss Aragon!” Anna said to the coach.

“Anna.”

Joan blinked and glanced back and forth between the two of them. Why did Miss Aragon look so threatening? Why did Anna look slightly nervous? Was there something going on that she didn’t know?

“You guys want some punch?” Anna said briskly, standing up. She smoothed out her tux and straightened her flower crown. “I heard Henry and Francis spiked it.” She snickered.

“Oh no,” Joan said in a woebegone voice. “Isn’t it dangerous to drink spikes? What if someone chokes?”

“Really?” Miss Aragon said to Anna at the same time.

Anna laughed, then noticed Miss Aragon’s unamused, deadpan expression. She stopped instantly.

“Uh-- No.” She said. “I’m joking.”

Miss Aragon’s expression did not change. Anna cleared her throat, then sidled off towards the food temples. Miss Aragon rolled her eyes and sat down next to Joan.

“So,” Miss Aragon smiled at her. “Is it everything you dreamed?”

“It’s nice.” Joan said.

Miss Aragon laughed. “Just nice?”

“It’s like being on Mars,” Joan admitted. “Now that I’m here, I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do.”

“I remember my prom,” Miss Aragon mused. Joan tipped her head in interest. “I went with the captain of the basketball team. She was six foot seven inches tall!” They both laughed. “So, I went out and bought a pair of these Stiletto heels so the kiss goodnight would be less awkward. Anyway, we went in her pickup truck, which of course broke down, so we had to walk the last half mile to the prom.”

“Oh no!” Joan gasped.

“By the time we finally got there, my feet were so blistered that all I could do was just sit there. I was sure I ruined the night, I couldn’t dance, but you know what? We just sat there and talked for hours. And it turned out to be one of the best nights of my entire life.”

“Wow,” Joan said. “I’m so happy for you, Miss Aragon! I’m sorry you couldn’t dance, though.”

“Could have been worse,” Miss Aragon shrugged. “There was this one girl whose boyfriend brought a toy gun so he could pose like James Bond in the picture.”

“Oh,” Joan giggled, despite not knowing who James Bond was. “He sounds like fun.”

“Yeah,” Miss Aragon nodded. “He was arrested.”

Joan stopped giggling instantly. Miss Aragon chuckled.

“But it’s okay.” Miss Aragon said. “It’s just a dance. Not that special.”

Joan nodded. Her gaze began to slide back to the party around them, to the mass of writhing limbs that was the dance floor. Mostly everyone was dancing or talking, but she spotted a few people staring over at her and whispering to each other. Some glanced away when she noticed, pretending they weren’t gossiping about her, while others didn’t even try to make it seem like they weren’t talking behind her back. She turned her head towards them fully, unable to look away, and felt fear and shame bubbling back up inside of her.

(Mama was right Mama was right Mama was right Mama was right)

Miss Aragon smothered those thoughts for her.

“Are you excited for summer?” Her coach asked. Joan turned her head back to her, successfully pulling her attention away. “Then you’ll be in Year 12. One grade closer until graduation!”

“I don’t know,” Joan admitted. “Graduation makes me nervous. I don’t even know what I want to study.”

“That’s understandable,” Miss Aragon said, nodding. “I couldn’t wait to graduate.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Miss Aragon said. “I hated high school.”

“Oh, god.” Joan leaned in. “I do, too. I know you’re not supposed to say that, but I do. I hate it. I hate it so much.”

“Preach it to the choir.” Miss Aragon said. “No offense.”

Joan smiled slightly. Miss Aragon took one of her hands and stroked the knuckles with her thumb.

“Just remember,” She said. “Nothing that has happened will matter after graduation. Nothing. Except, you know, things like good grades and studying. You take what you want and leave the rest behind. You don’t even have to see any of these people again if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t?”

“No.” Miss Aragon said. “Oh, but I highly recommend the ten year reunion.”

“Why?” Joan asked eagerly.

“Everybody’s different. People will say, ‘Oh my god, so-and-so hasn’t changed a bit,’ but they’re LYING.” Miss Aragon told her, a devilish smirk twitching on her lips. “Everybody changes. And not always for the better.” She scanned the crowd, her smirk curving fully. She leaned into Joan, subtly nodding towards a trio of girls in insanely expensive dresses. “Like, those girls over there? Right now, they’re at their peak. They will never be more pretty or more popular, and in ten years, they’ll be fat.” She snickered. “And the fat girls, some of them will be thin, and the cute boys will be bald. The jocks will have beer bellies-- it’s fantastic!”

Joan dissolved into giggles and had to cover her mouth.

“And the ones who were miserable?”

Joan stopped giggling. She watched Miss Aragon nervously. Her hand was squeezed comfortingly.

“They turn out just fine.”

A grin came to Joan’s lips and she didn’t try to stamp it down.

(i’m okay i’ll be okay)

“They do,” Miss Aragon said, squeezing Joan’s hand again. “So enjoy yourself, and try not to take it too seriously. Everything is going to be okay.”

Joan vaulted into Miss Aragon’s arms, unable to hold herself back. Miss Aragon chuckled and hugged her back, cupping the back of her head to her chest with one hand and rubbing up and down her spine with the other.

“Thank you,” Joan whispered.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” Miss Aragon told her.

“Woah,” A voice said. “I better not catch you hugging any other girls like that!”

Joan and Miss Aragon parted as Anna set two cups on the table, grinning.

“Have a good talk?”

“Uh huh,” Joan nodded.

“We did.” Miss Aragon said. “And on that note- Anna. Can I speak with you for a moment?”

“Sure.” Anna said, sounding slightly guarded.

Miss Aragon smiled at Joan and kissed the top of her head before standing up. She took Anna by the arm and guided her away, far out of earshot from Joan.

“Having fun?” Miss Aragon asked. Her voice wasn’t nearly as loud as the blasting music, but the biting words still cut smoothly through all the noise.

“Yeah,” Anna nodded. “Yeah, I am. I think Joan is having fun, too. She’s making a lot of progress!” She looked over her shoulder for a moment, seeing that Joan was pulled over to one of the desert tables by Jane and George. George put some whipped cream on a brownie, then handed it to Joan, who observed the canister seriously for a moment and then promptly sprayed herself in the face. She dropped the can with an alarmed screech and tottered backwards as laughter erupted around her. She was laughing, too.

“That’s good,” Miss Aragon said, smiling fondly at Joan as she was trying to wipe her face off. “I just thought you should know,” She turned her smile to Anna, “that if you show Joan anything less than the time of her life, I will personally see to it that you are expelled.”

Anna gaped at her, mouth hanging open slightly. All the color drained from her face. Miss Aragon narrowed her eyes dangerously, leaning in.

“Do you understand the words that just came out of my mouth?”

Anna swallowed hard and nodded. Miss Aragon smiled again.

“Very good.” The coach said, pleased. “Now go get back to her.” She caught Anna’s arm when she tried to walk away. “Oh, and wait for a slow song to dance with her to. She’ll look stupid dancing to anything fast.”

Anna nodded again and was released. She scampered back over to the table, glancing over her shoulder at the coach as she went.

“Everything okay?” Joan asked as Anna sat back down.

“Yeah!” Anna answered. “Yeah, don’t worry.” She looked up as a slower song by Billie Eilish began to play. “You wanna dance?”

“No.” Joan said instantly.

“Oh--” Anna blinked. “Alright.”

“Sorry…” Joan hunched her shoulders in. “Maybe later. But not right now, please? I still wanna get settled in completely.”

“Yeah, of course,” Anna said. “We can just talk, alright?”

“I like that idea.”

“So…” Anna shifted in her seat slightly. She looked Joan over, then plunged into a question she really hoped wouldn’t upset her date (and make her have to retake Year 13 when Miss Aragon found out), “If I may...how’d you get those scars on your hands?”

“Ah--” Joan coiled her scarred hands into her cowl, looking embarrassed. “Um-- It’s really stupid…”

“No, no, no--” Anna caught her before she could tuck herself back into the shell she was just starting to come out of. “Hey, why don’t I tell you one of my dumb scar stories?”

Joan looked up at her in interest.

“Okay, so--” Anna looked around like she was making sure no one was around, despite there being dozens of people all around them. “I have this little hole in my lower stomach because when I was eight, I put a pencil in my pants and it stabbed me when I went to pee.”

Joan instantly burst out into laughter. It was such a pleasant sound to hear coming out of her, slightly high pitched and adorable.

“Really?” She sputtered out.

“I swear to god!” Anna said, laughing with her. “You can’t really see it anymore, but you can feel the indent of where the hole is. I also have this bad boy,” She rolled her left pant leg up enough to reveal a giant, faded burn scar on her inner thigh. Joan ogled it.

“What happened?” The younger girl gaped.

“When I was 13, me, my younger sister, and my cousin were riding around in a golf cart. My cousin was driving, and he ended up turning in a cul-de-sac way too fast, flipping the entire golf cart on my side. I hit the asphalt and, since I was sitting next to my cousin in the front, that whole loaf fell onto me, breaking his fall and letting him come out completely unscathed. I, however, got this burn.”

“Wow…” Joan murmured. “Were you scared?”

“At the time, oh yeah,” Anna said. “My sister wasn’t moving at all. I thought she was dead. So we got a helicopter air lift to the hospital. That was pretty neat!”

“You aren’t...ashamed of it?” Joan asked softly. “Your scar?”

“I used to be,” Anna admitted. “But it’s a part of me, you know? It’ll only look worse if I try to get rid of it. Besides, it looks pretty cool, and it's not like anyone sees it that often anyway. It’s always too cold to wear shorts.”

Joan nodded. She unconsciously traced one of the webs of scar tissue lacing across her left hand. She looked up at Anna with courage in her eyes.

“I stuck my hands in fire.”

Anna raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Uh huh,” Joan nodded. “I found a picture of my father and my Mama threw it into the fire. I tried to grab it and burned myself pretty badly in the process.” She splayed her hands open, revealing the entire spider web of burns to Anna’s eyes. They were white than her already-porcelain skin, like someone had tried to paint over them. “They used to look really bad. All red and peeling a lot. But they’re gotten better, I think.” She rubbed her rough palms together.

“Wow.” Anna said. “That’s pretty metal.”

Joan looked at her strangely. “They’re not metal? This is skin.” She looked down at the scars.

Anna laughed.

“So… Did you know him?”

“Hm?” Joan looked back up at her.

“Your father.” Anna clarified. “If I may. Did you know him?”

Joan shook her head. “No. He left when I was just a baby.” She paused for a moment, then added, “I have his eyes.”

“Oh,” Anna said. “I mean, I’m glad the rumors aren’t true. Not that him leaving is a good thing, it absolutely isn’t, but it’s better than people saying--”

“My Mama killed him?” Joan finished. She looked up at Anna thoughtfully. “I don’t think she did. But you still never know…” She shook her head and rubbed her palms against her dress. “Can we--go outside?”

“Need some air?” Anna asked.

“Yeah,” Beads of sweat were welling up on the crown of Joan’s head. “It’s getting kinda hot in here.”

“Come on.”

The two of them slipped out of the prom through the door that fed into the rest of the school. It was much cooler in that hallway and much quieter, with only dim storm lights turned on overhead. They walked a few paces down until they got to the entrance hall. They sat down on the huge main staircase.

“Are you okay?” Anna asked, gently touching Joan’s arm. There was worry in her eyes.

“Yeah,” Joan answered, nodding. “Trust me. I just need to get away from all that noise for a moment.”

“Gotcha.” Anna said. “It was getting pretty wild in there.”

Joan nodded again. She was staring forward, looking out the huge windows all along the entrance way of the school. The sky was completely black now, even with the layer of clouds, and sheets of drizzling rain could be seen sparkling in the outside lights.

“So…” Anna said, hoping to ease back into some small talk. “What do you want to study in college? I know you’re only in Year 11, but I’m curious.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Joan shrugged. “Is sewing an option?”

Anna laughed slightly. “I’m not sure.”

“What about you?”

“Something with agriculture,” Anna told her. “I kinda wanna be a game warden. I like animals. A park ranger would be cool, too. I could get an entire tower all to myself!”

“That sounds scary.” Joan said. “Being all alone in a tower in the middle of the woods...”

“Don’t put it like that! You’ll crush my dreams!” Anna teased. “I actually thought about being a singer at one point, too. Can you believe that?” She snorted and shook her head.

“A singer?” Joan echoed. “Can you sing?”

“I like to think I can.”

“Can you show me?”

Anna blinked, slightly shy. “Right now?”

Joan nodded eagerly.

“What would I sing?”

“Your poem!”

“What?”

“Your poem, silly.” Joan said again. “It’s basically a song, you know. Just give it a rhythm!”

“Oh.” Anna blinked. “Right. Okay.” She cleared her throat meaningfully. “Let’s see…

An eagle's just another bird

Until he can spread his wings

A river's just a sheet of ice

Till winter turns to spring,”

Her voice came out husky and smooth, like molten caramel. Each word flicked languidly off of her tongue, dripping easily into open ears. Joan watched her in amazement and great interest and then, shockingly, began to sing the next few stanzas.

“And though the clouds may block the sun

Don't mean that it's left the sky,”

Joan’s voice was soft and slightly raspy, but higher pitched and easy on the ears. It was light and airy and pronounced each word with silky gentleness. Anna was so startled from hearing it that she faltered for a moment. Joan giggled at her bewildered expression.

“What?” She asked.

“You sing beautifully.” Anna blurted.

Joan blushed. “Thank you. I hope you don’t mind. Your poem was just so amazing that I sorta kinda memorized it… Sorry.”

Anna blinked at her in amazement. Nobody had ever been so interested in any of her writing pieces before, not even Katherine.

“No, no it’s okay!” She said quickly. “That’s so cool. That you like it that much. It means a lot to me.”

Joan smiled. “I’m glad.” She said. “Now, what was the next part?”

“Umm… Oh!” Anna cleared her throat again, then began singing once more,

“Just when you think you've seen it all

There's more than meets the eye,”

“Like, things I dream,”

“And things I feel,”

“There’s more to me,”

“Than I reveal,” The harmony they pulled off together was like nothing Anna had ever heard before. Her deep alto and Joan’s light soprano mixed together beautifully, sounding like liquid sugar in their ears.

“And cause I shine in quiet ways

I'm someone you don't recognize,” Joan sang, a smile twitching on her lips.

“I’m a diamond in the rough

A dreamer in disguise…”

They finished in another chilling harmony. Joan beamed at Anna. Anna smiled back at her brightly.

“That...was incredible.” Anna breathed.

“I know!” Joan exclaimed gleefully. “We sounded SO GOOD! I didn’t even know I could sing like that!”

Anna had never seen her so energetic before. Even Joan never felt this way before, so happy and at ease. She must have come out of her shell a lot more than she thought.

“You’re great, Joan.” Anna said. “We should really hang out more often! Are you free tomorrow by any chance? Katherine, George, Jane, and I were going to have an after party at my house. We have a pool!”

Joan looked absolutely thrilled to be invited. “I would love to go.” She said, eyes glowing. “Do you really mean it, Anna?”

“Of course!” Anna said. “We were also going to watch a few movies, too. Have you ever seen Star Wars?”

“No.”

Anna gaped at her in shock. “Really? You’ve never seen a single Star Wars movie before?”

“We don’t have a TV at my house.” Joan admitted. “What is Star Wars? Is it, like, World War I in outer space?”

Anna burst into laughter. Joan blinked at her in a delighted way.

“Now I REALLY have to show you!” Anna said, wiping an eye. “It’s a date!”

“Yeah,” Joan said excitedly.

They hung out on the main staircase for a little bit longer, discussing plans for the next day and Anna giving Joan permission to wear one of her bathing suits (since she didn’t have her own), then ventured back into the prom.

“I still can’t get over how pretty it is,” Joan said as they walked past a sculpture shaped like temple ruins. “It’s like a dream. A perfect dream.”

The plants were one her favorite parts by far. All around her there were glorious purple exploding star-shaped flowers, delicate pale orange orchids, clusters of petals the color of bananas, odd little orbs in ruby red and sapphire blue. Hanging moss and trailing vines and reaching willow were like curtain doorways to new parts of the prom in all shades of emerald green. And then, there was the tree glowing brightly among all the greenery.

It was so much more beautiful up close. Joan could see all the little details in the pure white trunk, which must have taken forever to get just right. The globes hanging from the branches were the same icy blue as her eyes, she realized, and she blinked at them in wonder. Was the color really that beautiful?

Looking closer, she noticed something in the hollow of the closest globe. A rolled up piece of paper! In fact, several of the globes had one or more, folded or rolled up to sit inside. There was also a small brown table next to the tree with pens and pieces of paper for anyone who wanted to write something. George was currently doing just that, looking very dutiful as he did so, while Jane waited by his side. She noticed Joan and Anna and perked up.

“There you guys are!” She said. “I was wondering where you went.”

“Sorry,” Anna said. “We just went out to get some air. What are you guys doing?”

“Making wishes,” Jane told her. “That’s what the tree is about. You’re supposed to write a wish or desire on a piece of paper and then put it into one of the fruit things.”

“So the decoration committee can laugh at you when they read all of them after prom,” George added as he was writing. “So don’t mark your name. And hope your handwriting doesn’t get recognized.”

“Wanna write one?” Jane asked.

Anna nodded, then nudged Joan questioningly.

“Sure,” Joan said.

They went over to the table George was hunched over at and each took a pen and piece of paper. Anna thought for just a moment, then began writing something, while Joan hesitated a little bit longer.

She had so many wishes that she thought about all the time. Being adopted into a nicer family, Mama loving her like a normal mother would, having friends, finding her father, getting a kitten… There were so many things to put down, and so little room, so, after a moment of deciding, she wrote, “I wish to always be happy like I am now.”

She rolled her paper up like a scroll and tucked it into an empty globe. Jane did the same, then Anna, and then, finally, George.

“So, what did you guys wish for?” George asked as they walked back over to their table. “Because I wished for something practical. Money.”

“I should have known,” Jane chuckled. “I wished for an easy, hopefully painless transition into college after summer is over.”

“Eternal love,” Anna said.

“A pet cat,” Joan lied, feeling too sappy to say her actual one.

“That’s a good wish, that’s a good wish,” George nodded in approval.

The four of them began to chat for several minutes, discussing summer plans and swapping funny stories. Joan didn’t have much to share, seeing as her life wasn’t exactly very easy to bring up in a lighthearted conversation, but Anna, Jane, and George each made sure she was included. She was perfectly happy with just listening quietly, but actually getting to partake in the talk felt like an honor she didn’t deserve.

“What about you, Joan?” George had been asking. “Got any embarrassing secrets?”

Joan thought for a moment, sifting out several way-too-dark things to share.

“I can’t swim,” She finally admitted.

“Woah, really?” George said. “I thought everyone learned how to swim.”

“Where? In school?” Anna snorted. She turned her head to Joan, eyebrows furrowed. “I guess that makes tomorrow’s pool party a little unfortunate, huh?”

“I still wanna come.” Joan said quickly, afraid the opportunity will be taken from her. “I agreed regardless, didn’t I? And I’ll be okay. I just had a bad experience with water one time, that’s all. It’s been years, anyway.”

(the tepid water and her wrinkled fingertips marked the end of her bubble bath. Mama just checked on her, but her patience had doubled since then. she called for Mama to help her out of the tub, but Mama did not respond. she tried twice more but she heard no returning calls. she decided that she did not really need Mama’s help; she was five and a big girl.

the slippery acrylic tub and her misplaced feet resulted in her arm roughly slicing on the sharp faucet. a metallic and unknown smell engulfed her. all she saw was red, just like candy apples. so much red falling from her arm and coloring the bathwater. unexplainable fear and pain overcame her. she started to cry and within seconds, Mama was standing at the door.

she had always been beautiful, but the flour smeared on her face and the stress lines present on her features did not do much for her. the sheer horror on her expression scared her further and transformed weak cries into wailing screams. Mama appeared white as a sheet as they stared at each other, motionless. the tub water was noticeably darker when she started to feel a painful sensation shooting down her arm. in a flash, Mama was carrying her onto the sink counter, swaddling her in a towel that turned crimson red almost instantly. Mama was wearing her special apron and bore a grim look on her face.

Mama left for just a moment, then returned with something gleaming.

there was no warning given before Mama started putting a needle and thread through her skin. it reminded her of sewing a dress together. she can only feel a light tugging, but it did not quiet her cries. Mama finally cut the thread after what felt like forever. the cuddles she got after that were like angel hugs. she thought she should hurt herself more often.)

“What happened?” George asked with great interest. Jane lightly whacked his arm.

“Don’t be pushy.” She chided him, then looked at Joan. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to, hun.”

The pet name sent flickers of pink flames glowing on Joan’s ears. Her heart fluttered wildly inside of her chest, like a butterfly flapping its wings for the first time.

“Well--”

(the shower. the blood in the water like when she was five. her blood. girls all around her laughing, throwing things, humiliating her.)

“I was twelve, and I snuck away from home to this Christian summer camp because I wanted to make some friends,” She said. “That, of course, went south, and all the kids participated in a game where they would dunk me in the pool until I started drowning.”

Silence filled the table. Joan instantly felt guilty and lowered her head.

“Sorry…” She mumbled. “I-I shouldn’t have…”

“I’m so sorry, Joan.” Jane looked sympathetic and concerned. “That sounds awful.”

“Those kids are awful.” George corrected her. “I’m sorry, too.”

“Me too.” Anna nodded. She gently took one of Joan’s hands and squeezed it. “That’ll never happen ever again, I promise.”

Joan smiled at her. “Thank you.” She wanted to dive into Anna’s honey brown eyes and catch the reflected flames in there. She wanted to tell her and George and Jane how much this meant to her.

Suddenly, Anna’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, but kept her other hand holding Joan’s.

“Oh, it’s Kat!” She said to the other three. “She’s asking how the night is going.”

“Amazing!” George declared. “Really amazing! Isn’t this prom the GREATEST?”

Jane tipped her head at him and smiled, and Joan realized that THAT was what it looked like when someone was in love.

“It is amazing,” Jane agreed.

“Yeah,” Joan nodded.

“I’m gonna send a picture to her,” Anna said. “Come on, guys! Everyone get in!”

They all huddled together, even Joan, who got snugly sandwiched between Anna and Jane. Anna snapped a picture and then sent it to Katherine, along with a quick text telling her how things were going. By the time she finished, the music had changed into a slow, soothing song, and couples began to group together on the dance floor, including Jane and George.

“Oh--” Anna looked up with a smile. “It’s a slow song, Joan.”

Joan froze, her eyes widening. She began shaking her head, but Anna was already standing up and gently taking her hands. She pulled them back quickly.

“No, Anna, I can't--” Joan stammered nervously. She glanced at all the couples dancing, noting how smoothly they moved, and couldn’t possibly imagine herself swaying among them. She would be much too clumsy. “I’ve never danced before.”

“That’s okay,” Anna said dismissively.

“No, no, Anna--” Joan’s fear was mounting. This was where everything went wrong, this was where things got messed up, this was where her perfect night fell apart--

“Hey.” Anna knelt down in front of her. “It’s going to be okay. It’s just one little dance, and all we do is hold each other and sway. Just like everyone else is doing.”

Joan glanced at the dancers again. It didn’t look too hard…

“B-but what if--”

“Shh,” Anna carefully adjusted Joan’s flower crown so it would be straight again. “Everything is alright, Joan. Nothing bad will happen. Remember: if anyone laughs, I kick their ass.”

That got a tiny smile from Joan. Anna smiled back and lifted Joan to her feet, guiding her onto the dance floor.

“Okay, so you’re going to grab my hand like this. See?” Their right hands clasped together in the air. “And then set the other one on my shoulder.” Joan’s left hand rested on Anna’s shoulder, while Anna’s gently cupped her waist. “And then we sway…” They swayed. “See? It’s easy. You’re a natural!”

Joan smiled shyly up at Anna. She glanced around them, and realized mainly everyone was too absorbed in their partners to notice she was dancing with them.

“And...if you wanna get fancy with it…” Anna smirked. “We can do the Dancing With The Stars move.”

Joan had no idea what that was, but it still sent lightning bolts of anxiety shooting through her.

“N-no, Anna, no, I can’t--”

“Shh, shh, shh,” Anna hushed her gently. “Just trust me.” And then she stepped back slightly and spun around slowly so her arm would be draped across her torso and Joan would be pressed against her chest. Joan looked up at her with a mix between an amazed and deer-in-headlights look. “See? Easy! Wasn’t that fun?”

Joan nodded wordlessly, lost in her wonder. Her icy blue eyes were sparkling like starlight twinkling on fresh snow. Anna gently uncoiled her and they got back into position.

“You’re a good learner.” Anna told her partner.

“Thank you,” Joan whispered, ducking her head. “Can I spin you?”

Anna laughed. “Sure.”

Joan spun Anna, but ended up twisting their arms quite painfully before the full rotation could be complete, so they had to break away and come back together with unknotted muscles. They both laughed.

“Good first try!” Anna said.

Joan giggled.

A serene silence fell between the two of them as the music went on. They swayed together like a white and pink boat drifting on the quiet waves of the ocean at night. The rhythm they rocked to was conducted by years worth of longing and desire from Joan’s part, and now it was all blooming before her. Everything she’s ever wanted was happening. Friends, a fun night away from home, people who actually give a damn about her… She could feel tears of joy pricking in her eyes and she quickly blinked them back.

“Do you really have to be home by eleven?”

Anna’s voice, smooth and caring and not a bit cruel, cut though the singing playing from the large speakers set up. Joan looked up at her. It felt like she had just woken up from a nap, that the music had lulled her into sleep and she slipped away into a blissful dream. But it wasn’t a dream. This was real. The bodies rocking around her and the beautiful decorations and her perfect dress and Anna’s hand in her own--it was all real.

“Yes,” Joan said, processing what Anna had asked her. She frowned. “I’m sorry. I promised.”

“No, that’s okay!” Anna said quickly. “It’s just that after prom, a few of us were going to go to--”

“OKAY.” Joan said, pulling away and hugging her hands in close.

Anna blinked. “Um. What?”

“No, no, if you want to go off with your friends, I understand. I-I-I don’t want to spoil anything.” Joan sputtered out, feeling her heart sink back into the black abyss it had finally climbed out of for the first time in fifteen years.

“What I was going to say was,” Anna said, taking Joan’s hands again and pulling her back against her. She began to sway again. “If you’d like to, after prom, we could stop at the Blazer for awhile.”

Joan blinked. She suddenly felt embarrassed about how she had jumped to conclusions so easily, that just goes to show how much she truly trusted Anna, but Anna didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ve never been there.” She said, unsurprisingly. She didn’t go to many places.

“They have the BEST fries!” Anna stated, grinning.

“I’d love to.” Joan said.

“Then it’s decided!”

A smile was starting to come to Joan’s lips, one that felt like it would stay there for the entire night no matter how hard she tried to smother it. After years of vicious bullying and constant teasing and unfriendly looks, she suddenly found herself wrapped in attention and warmth. Anna or Jane or George didn’t hate her or were afraid of her like Mama had said at all. More than that, they seemed to actually like her. They were talking to her and being nice to her and making her laugh, and none of it seemed forced in even the slightest way. They were making her forget, for all these hours, how miserable she had been and how miserable she truly was. The pain was numbed.

For once in her life, for the first time in fifteen years, she truly felt happy.

“Thank you.” Joan whispered, breaking another few peaceful seconds of silence between them.

“What for?” Anna asked, tilting her head slightly.

“For everything.” Joan clarified. “For taking me to prom. For the limo. For being so nice to me.” The tears were coming back, but she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to blink them back this time. “I know you don’t like me like that, and I know it’s only one night, but…” She looked up at Anna, her eyes sparkling. “I’m glad I got to be your date tonight.”

“Me too.” Anna said, taking Joan by surprise.

“R-really?”

For a moment, Anna frowned at her disbelief, but then she shook her head and chuckled slightly.

“Of course,” She said. “I’m having the best time with you.”

“B-but what about Katherine--” Joan stammered, her voice catching in her throat.

“Katherine isn’t here right now,” Anna said, wiping away the tear that rolled down Joan’s left cheek. “Tonight, you’re all that matters to me. I’m going to make sure this is the best night of your life. And the nights and days and everything else after that. You aren’t alone anymore, Joan.”

That’s what broke Joan.

The girl whimpered, bottom lip quivering, and a cascade of sparkling silver tears began pouring down her face. Anna cupped the back of her head and brought it to press into the crook of her neck for security. Joan cried steadily, thanking her over and over again through squeaking sobs.

“How about this?” Anna said when Joan began to quiet down and was able to pull her head back. Her makeup was slightly smeared, but Anna still thought she looked amazing. “We dance for a little longer, see what poor fools get elected as prom king and queen, and then head to the Blazers for a bite to eat. And I’ll have you home by eleven.” She smiled warmly. “How does that sound to you?”

Joan nodded.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Joan squeaked. “Maybe eleven-thirty…”

“Whatever you want.”

“Eleven-thirty.”

Anna smiled even more. “Wonderful.”

They fell into blissful silence as the song began to wrap up. Joan’s eyes were starting to sting, but she didn’t care. She tucked her head underneath Anna’s chin and rested her head on her chest, relaxing. Anna swayed them both gently, acting as a protective barrier that Joan never wanted to be away from.

The song soon ended and the two of them parted. George and Jane bounded over to them, with George grinning his head off and tapping his feet energetically. Jane rolled her eyes at him fondly, then smiled at Joan and Anna.

“I saw you guys dancing,” She said. “You were really good for your first time! This one,” She jerked her head at George, “tripped on MY FEET and dragged me to the ground when he fell the first time we danced together.”

Anna and Joan laughed. George was not fazed by his girlfriend spilling embarrassing things about him. In fact, he seemed a little proud.

“It’s going to be funny to tell our kids one day!” He said.

“Oh, you,” Jane rolled her eyes again and poked his nose. “Oh, Joan. Your makeup smeared.”

Joan blinked and lifted a hand to her face. “Oh dear,” She murmured in dismay.

“Not to worry!” Jane waved a hand. “I have some makeup in my car. I can help you fix it.”

“Really?” Joan said. “Thank you.”

“No problem, lovely!” Jane said. She gently took Joan by the arm. “Anna, I’m going to borrow your girl for a moment. George, don’t do anything dumb.”

“Yes sir!” George beamed. When Jane and Joan whisked through the crowd and out into the parking lot, he sighed lovingly, “I love her so much…”

Anna laughed and patted his back. “I can tell!”

Meanwhile, in Jane Parker’s blue Hummer, Jane was dutifully applying fresh makeup onto Joan’s youthful face and thinking back to some of the things she overheard Anne Boleyn saying about her when she was over at the Boleyn residence to hang out with George. The young girl before her didn’t look ugly at all, despite what Anne had said, nor did she look like a freak. Her eyes may be a strange color, but they were the most beautiful shade of blue Jane had ever seen before.

Jane suspected that, deep down, Joan actually enjoyed the kind of pampering she was giving her in the car, despite the distrust in her eyes as Jane drew near with a mascara wand. Not that she needed anything more, but still. Little Miss Five Minute Skincare had obviously missed out on a lot of the girly stuff that had saturated Jane’s existence since birth.

It made sense, though. From the rumors she heard and from everything Anne griped about, she didn’t have a normal upbringing like most people should have. Something much darker lurked beneath those silly stories.

Something terrible has happened to this girl.

And, judging by the “hideous” hand-made flannels Joan apparently wore quite often to school, her mother hadn't been much of a fashion mentor either.

Once Jane had achieved the smoky eye effect she wanted, she applied some gloss to Joan’s lips. The girl had quite an amazing tone to her mouth. Pity it was drooped in a sullen pout at that moment.

Jane leaned back to admire her handwork.

“Well?” She adjusted the rear view mirror down so Joan could see her reflection. “How does it look?”

“Pretty…” Joan murmured. “But it feels like I have dirt on my face.” She pouted adorably again.

Jane laughed. “Makeup has that effect, unfortunately.” She said. “But you look lovely. Now, come on, let’s get back inside.”

They journeyed back into the prom, chatting idly as they went. Joan was smiling again, but her hands kept twitching like she wanted to rub her eyes. This was probably the first time she’s ever worn mascara, Jane realized.

“Wow,” Anna murmured breathlessly when Jane and Joan got back to their table. Even George looked a little starstruck at the newer, better makeup applied to Joan’s face.

“Do I look alright?” Joan asked shyly.

“Better than alright!” George said.

“You look beautiful.” Anna added. “Gorgeous.”

Joan blushed bright red. “I’m glad.” She said. “Because this black stuff is making my eyes sticky. And itchy.”

“That’s mascara, sweetheart.” Jane corrected her.

“It’s AWFUL.” Joan said. “Do girls wearing makeup always have to feel this? How do they do that? I’d rather pluck all my eyelashes out!”

Jane, Anna, and George laugh. After a moment, Joan joined them, giggling.

“I’m going to go grab a drink,” Anna said, parting from the group and going over to the bufett temples.

“Excuse me?”

Anna spun around and found herself facing a young woman, maybe a Year 12 or Year 13, with tassels of red hair and striking smoky grey eyes. Her dress was scarlet, accenting her hair perfectly.

“Sorry,” She said, smiling slightly, “I just had to ask before I made a fool of myself. Are you two a couple?” She nodded in Joan’s direction.

“What? No!” Anna barked. The laugh came out more harshly-sounding than she meant, making her instantly guilty. But she was right- she wouldn’t date Joan. She was too young for one, and for another, she was already with Katherine.

The redhead was devouring Joan as the girl giggled over something George was saying, effortlessly adorable.

“No, we’re not a couple,” Anna found herself repeating as the redhead purred her appreciation. “But Joan” Anna couldn't resist. She really wanted Joan to open up to new people. “…Joan’s a total stud.”

God, that felt a lot weirder to say than she expected. She did NOT like that.

“Really?” The redhead’s gaze shot to Anna’s face and then back to her object of attraction. “Joan?” She teased the name with her tongue. “God, she's cute. Do you think I have a chance?”

Anna shrugged and sipped her drink to stifle a giggle. To be honest, she didn’t actually know. She had never ever seen Joan with anyone romantically before, making her believe she was a raging asexual or mother-superior-in-training.

The reality was that Joan was left tongue-tied by male and female nudity alike. Two years into high school gym, and Anne would say she STILL averted her eyes when changing out with other girls in the locker room. She was just hopelessly shy when it came to all matters sex-related.

“She may play hard-to-get.” Anna finally said.

“Ah,” The redhead nodded slowly. She chuckled. “Thank you.” Then, like that, she glided back off into the mass of writhing limbs that was the prom. Anna respectfully waited ten seconds after she left to snort her laughter.

“You’ve got some fans, Jo,” She said, walking back over her friends.

“What?” Joan blinked up at her innocently.

“I think someone has a crush on you.”

Joan’s face flamed red instantly. She stammered on a reply, but all her words came out squeaking.

“O-oh.” She choked. “Nice?”

Anna chuckled and patted her head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it was nothing. And you can always say no.”

Joan nodded. A second later, the music switched to an upbeat Lady Gaga song. George began to bound excitedly.

“Oh, I LOVE this song!!” He yelled. “Let’s dance!”

Anna glanced at Joan, who appeared to be a little more confident at dancing. They all moved to an emptier spot on the dance floor and began to dance.

“Come on, Joan!” Jane encouraged, noticing that Joan was just bobbing her head to the beat of the song. “Shake that bony white ass!”

Joan was flabbergasted at that, but was motivated to get a little more into the song. Anna, Jane, and George all clapped and cheered for her as she did so.

Unbeknownst to them, Maggie watched on with Bessie at her side. Bessie’s amethyst purple dress went with her bleached white hair surprisingly well, but Maggie wasn’t sure if that was intentional or not, seeing as Bessie’s head was filled with quite a few moths. Anthony was somewhere in the crowd near the food temples, lost in the cluster of black tuxedos so much like his own, fetching drinks like Maggie had asked.

“God, just look at them.” Maggie sneered in disgust, watching Joan dance like an idiot and Anna, Anne’s younger brother, and Anne’s younger brother’s girlfriend actually make it seem like they liked her. “Couldn’t you just vomit?”

“I can’t believe Anne is missing this.” Bessie said, wide-eyed. Maggie definitely saw flickers of longing and jealousy in her dark brown eyes; she wasn’t exactly very subtle with her big gay crush on Anna von Cleves.

“Trust me, doll,” Maggie said dismissively. She shot a smirk at the stage. “She isn’t missing a thing.”

22 notes · View notes

purgatoryandme · 4 years

Note

Hey! I can't seem to find the post you made with all the books references in Illuminate Me and the reason behind it? Is it deleted?

I know that there is an incomplete one floating around in my reply tag, and it should be in the Illuminate Me tag, but tumblr’s search features are so bad that I went back to the original word doc of the complete list, so prepare for that particular storm lol. Quoted/Referenced Reading List (In Order of Appearance) Shakespeare: Macbeth I opened on a Macbeth quote (‘When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lighting, or in rain’) because I wanted to start with something immediately relatable. Most readers were introduced to more ‘dramatic’ plays through Macbeth. Beyond that, they were introduced to the concept of pathetic fallacy, which I think plays nicely with Tony as a character (a man who is CONSTANTLY imparting emotion onto inanimate objects…and then actually giving them their own emotions) and with one of the core problems in IM, which is deciding the emotions of others for them. I was hoping to get the ‘feel’ of that without having to lean too far into the actual concept.

Bonus: I picked this quote in particular because of the importance of threes in Tony’s life (his core group of friends, iterations of the reactor, number of times reborn, his bot children VS his AI children, the number of lovers or almost lovers he has in the fic, etc). Milton: Paradise Lost ‘What is dark within me, illuminate!’ is a modernization of the original Milton quote ‘what is dark within me, illumine’ for readability. I actually feel a bit bad about changing this considering how many people think this is the original quote now. This wound up being a central (and title) quote somewhat by accident. I’m fond of it because of how much I liked a different one that I had originally wanted for Tony’s thoughts of the reactor: ‘yet from those flames, no light, but rather darkness visible’. I had originally wanted to start off on a sadder note, one that showed how much Tony hated losing his humanity, and so the flames of Hell and their physics-bending concept seemed thematically appropriate. I had always intended to eventually invert the imagery – instead of Extremis being (to Tony) flames capable of extinguishing light, the reactor would become a water-like blue light that couldn’t be choked or recreated by any of the shadows that pursued Tony in his life. I picked Milton SPECIFICALLY for the imagery of light and shadows.

But, man, listen. Darkness visible is a great concept, but it’s also tired. It has, as you’ve noted, been discussed to death. So as I was reading ‘Milton’s darkness visible and Aeneid 7’ to refamiliarize myself with some of the broader themes attached to that particular piece of imagery, I wound up thinking about how to invert the darkness itself instead of the overall concept. The flames of Hell extinguish light instead of having to exist away from it. It is a bad that cannot be penetrated by good.

Instead of chasing away shadows, which would be implied by shining a light ON them, the request Tony makes here is to actually invert the darkness - to have it illuminate in and of itself. It’s becoming something better instead of being removed or forgotten. On the flip side of that, the darkness within isn’t growing as light weakens, but rather under its own force. Two forces equal in nature and origin in a person. It’s a different take on lighting than the one most critics hammer home. Long ramble is long, but this was the basis for using that quote. It grew from there to have many different meanings, however the core has always remained. All in all I’m pleased with it.

EM Forster: A Room with a View Very forgiving even in its satirical takes on human nature. A lot of passages are very therapy-quotable in their urging to accept the inevitability of causing some harm in life. It plays on a lot of the same concepts with light being obvious metaphor for good and evil that Paradise Lost does, but softens them into more realistic shades of human existence. Isaac Asimov: Foundation Continuing on with themes of rigid morality vs the flexibility and romanticism of humanity, we have Asimov, master of machines and the three rules of robotics! There are lots of quotable epigrams in this beast. The quote pulled from this has two readings depending on what you assume of the man who has said it. If you see him as manipulative, there’s an insidious underpinning of killing off your own morals. If you see him as a kind man, then you could read it as foregoing morals in place of empathy. Tony’s therapist loves a very specific brand of double speak that lets Tony work through the conversation purely through interpretation. Tolstoy: Anna Karenina Tolstoy’s prose is lengthy...so so lengthy, but Anna Karenina is worth the read as long as you relate to at least one of its major characters. Frankly, I think you can choose to read a single character’s plot arc and leave it at that. It’s mostly a novel that is interesting, not because of its plot, but because of its study of relationship dynamics. Tolstoy was really invested in picking apart the idea of what makes a ‘family’ and, beyond that, what makes a class. It’s refreshing to see so much of the critique occurring within the lived experience of the characters instead of through a narrator or outside punishing moral forces. Baudelaire: Windows and Benediction I cannot recommend enough reading multiple translations of Baudelaire poems (fleursdumal.org has a wonderful array available). Benediction is a personal favourite. I love me some malevolence wrapped up in religion. Dante: The Divine Comedy There’s a lot of bleak humor in Dante if you look for it. Several interpretations insist of making each piece excessively grim dark, but faithful translations tend to have a hint of humor in them. It works well for engraving War Machine’s spine - a benediction and a mockery of human limitations. I try to pick quotes that not only fit the scene, but would still fit into the context of the grander themes from whence they came...unless I hate the author. Tennyson: The Lady of Shallot “I am sick of shadows” vs “I am half-sick of shadows”. Tony’s expressing more frustration here with being alone and his passive involvement in that loneliness. Another quote I feel vaguely bad about changing, haha. The Lady of Shallot is a very nice classical piece that I’m sad isn’t taught in schools alongside Hamlet. There are some nice Ophelia parallels here. I wanted a feminine influence on Tony’s loneliness and one that is somewhat youthful despite his age. Yeats: Vacillation I fucking hate Yeats as a person. That said, the man can write. The man can REALLY write. His pieces are almost always layered to the point of absurdity and he’s perfect to swiping quotes with multiple meanings. Definitely Tony’s kind of author. Goethe: Faust Speaks for itself and in the author’s notes on its reference. Dostoyevsky: The Brothers Karamasov IMO a book that deserves all the acclaim of Anna Karenina and then some. Very VERY Russian in its ethical debates of, as always, religious morality vs free will. Also dips into familial struggles and patricide, because it wouldn’t be a Russian classic if it didn’t contain some deeply buried bitter resentment towards paternalism. I’m going off-script here, but this is a fucking excellent book. I don’t really have words for how much I enjoy how Dostoyevsky explores the concepts that he does. Shakespeare: Julius Ceasar Shakespeare: Twelfth Night Twelfth Night deserves more credit for its development and maintenance of an enigma. Twelfth Night has charisma in spades both because of and in spite of the exceedingly petty actions of some of its characters. It is also a refreshingly simple take on love for the sake of it. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland Stephen King: Lisey’s Story I consider Lisey’s Story to be the best of King’s work. The man has his obvious writing ticks and his even more obvious issues as an author. Lisey’s Story contains many of them, but navigates them far better than any of his other work. The monster here is all in the mind and is too vast to truly see or understand. It’s perfectly representative of a creeping sense of inescapable horror. It was fun to flip it on its head with a reference here – Tony isn’t terrified of dying, but he is terrified of his inescapable enjoyment of Bucky’s company. Maria’s family saying is inspired by Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass Armitage: The Death of King Arthur A genuinely fantastic classic tale of heroism, filled with all the drama, tragedy, and sacrifice that you’d expect with strongly feminine undertones. I’m a sucker for this kind of thing. TS Eliot: The Wasteland Excellent piece of poetry with many layered meanings and dual interpretations. I can’t really articulate my thoughts on The Wasteland, but I reference an essay at the end of this list that does that for me. Oedipus Rex Rupert Brooke: Safety Not directly quoted but obscurely referenced through Bucky and Tony’s war conversations + Bucky’s conversation about, you got it, being ‘safe’ with his therapist. His poetry is about WWI and is, largely, idealistic. Safety is…not quite an exception to that. His other poetry contains a certain sense of honour and duty, whereas safety, maintaining a seemingly light tone, has nothing of the sort. It is safety in the soul – something untouchable by the horrors of war or death. It treats that as a ‘house’, which leant itself to the article Tony send Bucky. Armine Wodehouse: Before Ginchy Not directly quoted but obscurely referenced through Bucky and Tony’s war conversations + Bucky’s conversations with his therapist. This is also WWI poetry, though far darker than Brooke’s work. It discusses the parts of the heart and soul soldiers lose. It is an extremely good piece AND references Dante’s Inferno. I had to work it in somewhere even if I didn’t want to directly quote it. Meyer and Brysac: Tournament of Shadows Referenced several times over in discussion of war, the great game, and British military history. Beautifully self-aware account of Britain’s insistence on rewriting history after the fact and the tiny hilariously embarrassing moving pieces that shaped what is often considered the heyday of espionage. Murakami: Kafka on the Shore I love Murakami’s response to questions about understanding the novel as a whole. There are no solutions, only riddles presented, and through their interaction the possibility of a solution takes place. It’s a great lens through which to view the book and individual passages taken out of it. Reminds me of The Wasteland having to be read in totality before you can begin picking it apart, after which each individual piece can be read of its own. Kafka on the Shore, with its musings on the uncertainty of fate and redemption, was the perfect book to outline Tony’s horrifying realization, which he is desperately suppressing, that he might be coming to accept Bucky’s feelings. This quote in particular, while I would’ve used it anyway, is also a great callback to the first chapter and its storms. Chapter 29 is a turning point. Beyond it there are some intentional quote contrasts that are probably more easter eggs than they are anything else. Yeats: A Dialogue of Self and Soul Great contrast with Vacillation. Some parts of self and soul are used in that poem and thematically they are connected and contrasted - self and heart vs self and soul. The symbolism and imagery in Vacillation is really on point and layered, but Self and Soul is peak Yeats for its reversal of the typical ‘the soul is pure and bluntly honest and the body is tainted and bad’ in Christian works. Also Self and Soul’s broader context is scrumptious considering the debate poems history of relying on divine forgiveness and lack thereof instead of on forgiveness of the self.

It was fun to give this poem a double meaning in IM as both hugely ominous and ultimately pointing to the later forgiveness Tony receives from himself through the divine (if the soul stone can be called that) in the heavens (space!). There’s also another fun twist to ‘who can distinguish darkness from the soul’ in its contrast with ‘what is dark within me, illuminate’. To take that a step further, Vacillation was the beginning of the path of forgiveness for Bucky (understanding Tony’s heart…somewhat literally as he slowly gets closer and closer to the reactor itself), while Self and Soul is a final step (re: Bucky being presented the final hurdle of Tony deciding to move forward alone). Hermann Hesse: Siddhartha Hesse is wonderfully blunt at times. I gotta admit I love German takes on spiritual self-discovery because they always seem to tend towards much more straightforward answers than other countries. Hesse’s relationship with Buddhism in literature vs his lived experience is also really intriguing. Anyway, Siddhartha, in its humanizing of Gods, is wonderful contrast to the consistent imagery of the untouchable and unknowable forces of good and evil in previously quoted works. It has stopped bringing humanity to the divine and has started placing the divine within humanity. Emily Wilson’s translation of the Odyssey One of the ultimate poetic epics. Now that we are nearing the end, I’m going overtime with making the grander themes of this whole piece hit home. A lot of IM was built on a foundation of poetic epics, of heroism, and a bit of Greek tragedy. The Odyssey embodies all of those things beautifully. It also suited Thor too well to pass up. Yeats: An Irish Airman Forsees His Death Ah, Yeats. Very blatant foreshadowing here that is keeping with the foreshadowing from Self and Soul. Fate has, up till this point, been a bit of a question. It has been ‘when will it come to me’ and ‘how will I avoid or overcome it’. Now fate is a set point. It is knowable and present. ‘I know I shall meet my fate, somewhere among the clouds above’. This goes for the true onset of Infinity War and for Tony’s feelings towards Bucky – when he had no one, he allowed Bucky in after essentially promising himself he wouldn’t. If that’s not an accidental admittance of love, nothing is. Henley: Invictus Absolutely fantastic poem. Continuing with the heavy fate themes coming into this climax. Now that Tony knows his fate, truly knows it, he is choosing to take it on directly. Agamemnon (Anne Carson’s Traslation if you prefer a more modern language approach, Lattimore is you prefer a classic) Agamemnon is forgotten all too often in the world of poetic epics and it’s a damn shame. I cannot say enough good things about it. I always wanted to use lines from Agamemnon in a Tony fic because the Cassandra parallels were too perfect to resist. The chorus in this play was also a perfect narrative device for interacting with something of a hive mind. Yeats: The Wanderings of Oisin Another poetic epic. Nice contrast with The Odyssey, The Death of King Arthur, and Agamemnon. Here the dialogue is between an aged hero and a saint looking into the hero’s past. It has the kind of reflective and aged mood necessary for this stage of the story, but is actually a poem I sortof hate. The line ‘And a softness came from the starlight, and filled me full to the bone’ is absolutely gorgeous, though. Some final inspiration pieces:

The Penelopiad

The Iliad

House of Leaves (for surrealism in the final chapters)

Dante at Verona (used in an author’s note as an intentional jab at the dull uninspired nature of the this particular take on Dante. Repurposed quote, essentially)

a broke machine just blowin’ steam by themikeymonster (great character study of Bucky)

Frank Kermode’s essay “Eliot and the Shudder” (inspiration behind Tony’s entire interaction with literature)

#long post #reply #illuminate me #literature references

10 notes · View notes