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maryoliverdotcom · 10 months

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A Shade Darker Than Red: Chapter 8

Chapter 7

A week passed by. Paro was eerily quiet when she was with me, and I thought of what I had said that day. Had I really, truly ruined all my chances of saving even our friendship?

A million thoughts rushed through my head as I turned restlessly in bed, staring at the ceiling.

The ceiling of our bedroom was painted with blue fluorescent stickers shaped like stars. Papa had done that. I had asked Maa to take them off if they bothered her, but we never did.

Beside me, Maa tossed in her sleep. They say if you think of someone, they can’t fall asleep. Could she hear my thoughts?

I had nothing to distract myself with. No phone, no book—nothing. Just me, my thoughts and the stars on the ceiling.

A sudden, vivid memory flashed in my mind. We were six. A year had passed since my meeting with Paro. We were running around like hooligans in the park while our mothers talked about work, pados-wali aunties and whatnot. I still remember what Paro was wearing: a frilly, white frock with Minnie Mouse sewn onto its sleeves. The sky was red and so was our laughter, until Paro bent down and ripped a flower right off its stem. “For you,” she had said, clumsily tucking the flower behind my ear. When she touched my earlobe, the flower was white. When she let go, it was red.

Another memory. We were nine. She sat with me on the bed while I rambled on about my latest hyperfixation: dragons. She listened to every single detail I had mentioned and, by the end of the afternoon, showed me a drawing of a wyvern.

Twelve. I was reading The Priory of the Orange Tree, sitting on the windowsill. I took a sip from my milk tea, letting out a contented hum. I wasn’t on the windowsill anymore. I was Ead, pressing a kiss to Sabran’s brow. Sabran was someone who looked uncannily similar to Paro.

An annoying ding! from my phone forced me back to reality. I heard Maa’s grunts and snores: the coast was clear.

I climbed off the bed, taking care not to put extra weight anywhere that would make the mattress creak. I walked towards the desk and picked up the phone.

WhatsApp: You have 3 messages.

It was Paro. I checked the time: 3:49 a.m. Paro was a morning person, what was she doing staying up all night?

Paro<3: hi renu are you awake? —00:27 do you wanna hang out on the roof like we used to? —02:01 its ok if you dont wanna. go back to sleep you have a big day tmrw. actually, if ur awake rn i’ll kill you —03:48

Oh, Paro.

I glanced at Maa, slowly increasing the fan’s regulator. Please don’t wake up soon.

I walked out of the room and closed the door. Thank goodness I’d oiled its hinges last week.

The main door was locked—opening it meant creating a ruckus. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath. No wait, actually not shit. This meant I’d have to take the old way around. Jeez, fourteen-year-old me was fun.

I opened the door to the balcony and hoisted myself up on its railing. It was an easy jump. I tumbled onto the grass, praying that a grasshopper wouldn’t find its new home in my ear. The grass was wet and the air smelled of petrichor.

I stood up, smoothening my pyjamas. Staying out late at night was a risky thing, especially in our neighbourhood. Plenty of TicTac-shaped pills here and there, and men on the prowl. I didn’t give a damn. I was eighteen and probably feeling some feelings I wasn’t supposed to be feeling. (That’s a lot of ‘feeling’s, I know.) What could possibly hurt me?

A lot of things, I realised, as I walked up to Paro’s house. Like that mad dog Rathode had warned me about. The creepy guy who keeps children in his basement (just a speculation, but when Madhu speculated about something, it was most probably right). An overspeeding motorcycle that could crash into me any minute. My own mother, with her pots and pans, once she realised I was gone.

Oh well, the damage was done. I found myself opening the gate on instinct, as if I knew Paro’s house better than I did my own.

I stepped into their garden, careful not to trample on any beetles—and made my way to the window of the woman who lived below Paro’s flat. Madame Fosco, I called her, in everything but her looks.

The tin shade Madame Fosco had installed last year was probably on its deathbed by now. Rust had made its edges creaky, but Fosco was deaf, anyway. I grabbed onto it and hoisted myself up, finding myself staring right at Paro’s face, our faces a millimetre away from each other’s. She screamed.

I screamed.

My foot slipped and I fell off the tin shade, tumbling onto the grass once again. At this point, I would be surprised if a grasshopper hadn’t found its home in my ear.

“For Whitman’s sake, hush,” I hissed.

Paro peered out of the window, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed.

I shook my head (in case a grasshopper had organised a nice family dinner in my hair) and climbed onto the tin shaft once again, pulling myself onto Paro’s windowsill.

“Come in,” she whispered, switching the lights on.

I felt comfortable squatting on her windowsill like a failed Spiderman and grumbled as I walked into her bedroom.

Paro switched her phone’s torchlight off. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“What?” I stared at her retreating figure. “What did I do?”

“Why are you still awake?” she snapped. I followed her to the door.

“Why are you still awake and staring out of your window like Oscar fucking Wilde?” I snapped back. Paro flipped me off while trying her hardest to pull the gates across the door. Sweat shone on her forehead, her eyes illuminated in the moonlight.

“Hold on, let me help,” I offered, gently grabbing her wrist. Paro grumbled, stepping aside.

I pushed the gate back and pulled it in again, keeping the screw in with my thumb. It glided into the opening on the other side, miraculously not making a single noise. I turned towards Paro. She was staring at my arms.

“What?” I asked her, incredulously. One moment she said she wanted to kill me, and the next she looked at me like I was something she couldn’t quite wrap her head around.

“N-Nothing,” she muttered. My heart fluttered. Dammit, these butterflies in my stomach had turned into fucking bats at this point.

Paro walked up the stairs while I followed her footsteps in the dark. “Just like the old times, huh?” I heard her say.

I smiled weakly. “You make it sound like we're old.”

Paro opened the door to the roof, the tensed line in her jaw glinting in a sliver of moonlight. God, she was as beautiful as ever.

“Come in,” she said, her words echoing in the marble walls.

I followed her to the railings, leaning against the cool surface. A light breeze rippled through, making her hair fly for a brief second. Dear God, she was poetry herself.

“Where are Auntie and Uncle?” I asked, trying to break the silence.

A light breeze caressed my cheeks. “They won’t be back before tomorrow. Business trip,” Paro explained, edging closer to me.

“Oh.” I was suddenly aware of the pen still tucked behind my ear.

Silence.

“So we’re—we’re all alone, then?” I asked her, hoping she wouldn’t hear the slight quaver in my voice.

Paro nodded. “We are.” Silence, again.

She leaned against the railing. “You’re going away in three weeks.”

I nodded, not quite knowing what to say.

“I asked you a question.” Her voice was cold and harsh, harsher than I deserved.

“That was a statement,” I snapped. “And don’t use your CEO voice with me.”

Paro frowned. “I’m not.”

“You are.” I glared at her. “And you know it.”

She stared at me, scrutinising my every feature. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s just been—you’ll be gone—and—”

“I know, it’s okay,” I heard myself murmur, edging closer towards her.

“I—I’ve got that Poe book with me,” she said. “Do you want it now or at the graduation party?”

“Now,” I said, without thinking. “The party will be too loud. And too crowded,” I added as an afterthought.

Paro bit her lip so hard I was scared it would bleed. “Alright,” she nodded. “I’ll get it.”

“Okay.”

I watched her retreat into the shadows, taking the white along with her. The night was a pool of blood, again.

I hummed. Did she know about the history of ‘OK’? Probably not. I’d tell her. Not knowing things I wouldn’t be able to tell her before we drifted apart wasn’t a good idea. At least she’d be able to tell her children that their Renu Auntie had told her about the history of ‘OK’. Maybe she’d sigh and think of me, again. Words were a certain but clumsy way into a person’s mind.

Papa had told me that. Maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking of him.

Did Paro know about Jinnah? That Netaji might’ve actually been alive? Did she know that birds came from lizard-hipped dinosaurs? There was so much I had to tell her before I vanished from her mind. It was pathetic. Scrambling onto every crumb of unrelated information I could find, just to hang onto her thoughts, stay on in her mind for a little while longer.

“I’m back,” Paro said, stepping into the moonlight.

She looked like Aphrodite, the goddess of love born from love itself, in all her glory—clutching a book of Edgar Allan Poe, the letters of which shone in the lamplight or moonlight, that I do not know.

“For you,” she said, handing me the book.

“It’s beautiful,” I gasped as I ran my fingers along the edge of its spine. It was a leatherbound book, The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe written in shiny gold lettering. I opened the first page. To Renu, it said. Keep me in your mind, always. From, Paro.

I chuckled, flipping through the pages. “Of course I’ll keep you in my mind, Paro,” I laughed. “What a silly thought!”

Paro looked at me, hope faintly glimmering in her eyes. “You will?” Her voice had softened down to a murmur.

I looked at her incredulously. “Well, duh, Paro, I can’t just forget my best friend of thirteen years now, can I?”

Paro’s lower lip trembled. “You promise?”

I smiled. “Always.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

A comfortable silence followed and as we looked at the stars, I knew we were both smiling.

@avani-amulya @manujanolavu @nirmohi-premika @lovesickpdf @arachneofthoughts @sonilaalbindi @desi-yearning @alhad-si-simran @thatpagalchokri @trashmeowcan @waitingforthesunrise @vellibandi @thesunandstarss @chanda-chamke-cham-cham @damnn-dorothea @the-unhinged-fanwinggg @watchingblsnowandforever @disproportionatelysculpting @bundle-of-glitter @bibliophile-dendrophile please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist <3

#a shade darker than red: chapter 7 #gaylord writes

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sailorbadger · 1 year

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re: my tags on this post, @psychicbluebirdmiracle wanted a list so here’s some of my favorite Robin Hood adaptations in no particular order:

Sidenote: most of these are either extremely niche and/or “you may think it’s bad but I think it’s good” because that’s just what my tastes are.

BBC’s Robin Hood: You all knew this one was going to be up here and if you didn’t, you haven’t been following me long enough. This is what gave birth to my brain worms. I’ve given a PowerPoint presentation about this which was three hours long. I have subjected other people to this show to the point that there is now a yearly celebration where we watch only one specific episode of this show and make memes about it. I am insufferable about this. The day I stop thinking about this show is the day I have lost all brain activity.

Back to Sherwood: I am once again reminding everyone that I have offered to exchange my firstborn child for the original English version of this show. The Vibes on this show are perfect and I will never forgive the people that cancelled it after only 13 episodes. Fun time-travel related hijinks? Sign me up.

Princess of Thieves: Who doesn’t love a Keira Knightley movie?

Disney’s Robin Hood: Listen, you just can’t go wrong with this one. Very solid all around. But there’s another reason I’m putting it on this list. My cousins (ages 6 and 4) were staying over with us on Easter and I put this movie on at one point to get them to sit down for a few minutes while my parents made lunch. My godson (the 6-year-old) asked me why I knew so much about what was going on in the movie and I explained that I watched it when I was young, and then my dad said that the movie is so old that he watched it when he was a child. It was a lovely inter-generational bonding moment over my special interest as my dad explained to my cousin about the different characters and how there’s a lot of different versions of the story.

Not really an adaptation but continuing from the last one, this YouTube video: Some of the best analysis on why most mainstream Robin Hood adaptations suck. This is why I mostly just like the versions that have good Vibes.

This soundtrack to a Swedish Robin Hood musical: I can’t even begin to explain how upset I am that I found out about this musical after it had already been cancelled due to the pandemic. I could have gone and seen it. There’s not even a DVD of it. At least we have the soundtrack which is full of bangers. Everything sounds as over-produced as you’d expect from the country that makes over-produced Eurovision songs, and I love every second of this. If you’re not going to listen to the whole thing, at least listen to Prince John’s song.

This even more obscure soundtrack to a Finnish Robin Hood play from 1997: Everything here is just Vibes. I wish I knew what the actual plot of the play was but these songs are great on their own. The fact that the singer from a famous Finnish band (Neon 2) sings a couple of the songs is just ?????A Choice???? but a perfect one at that.

Robin Hood: The Great Escape: My most vivid memories of listening to this play that’s a podcast is when my IBS was really bad and I was on the bathroom floor crying in pain, so I just put this on to distract me. Anyway, this one has good characters, interesting mix of different cultures and LGBT+ representation, and it all works seamlessly in a way that doesn’t feel forced. Definitely worth a listen.

Robin McKinley’s The Outlaws of Sherwood: I bought this book from my local library’s clearance about 15 years ago. It’s a solid fun adventure and that’s pretty much all I can say about it.

The Finnish opera adaptation of Robin Hood: The dogs in this are nightmare fuel and the whole thing is bordering on the “so bad it’s good” line. The lyrics are so weird at times, it’s awfully cringy sometimes but I love it so much. I own it on DVD and it has English subtitles so if anyone wants to watch it sometime let me know.

Carrie Vaughn’s The Ghosts of Sherwood and The Heirs of Locksley: I need a third part of this. These are a quick read, about 100 pages each, about the children of Robin Hood. And although the premise may sound cliché and childish, I swear these are so good and worth your time.

C.K. Brooke’s Marian: Princess Thief: Ah, yes, the “disappointingly heterosexual” one. Putting aside the fact that this book missed a great opportunity in making at least one of the characters gay, it has an amazing all-female-cast of characters (there’s a male love interest there too I guess, I don’t care about him). This book made me feel like how Sailor Moon made me feel in high school with it’s focus on the Power of Friendship.

That one Finnish audio drama that’s based on Finnemore’s version: Everyone sounds so horny in this one for some reason and the actual text is not helping. The theme song is a banger. It’s a shame the CDs were copy protected so I couldn’t rip the files for myself.

A black-and-white recording of a Finnish play from 1971: The fashion is so 70s it hurts my eyes. The songs are so bad. The plot is almost non-existent but I love every second of this. (I would have linked it but you can unfortunately only watch it in Finland)

The 2009 movie with a dragon in it?????: I don’t remember most of this except that it’s definitely in the “so bad it’s good” category. They just shouldn’t make high-budget versions of Robin Hood when low-budget productions are so much more entertaining.

Edale Lane’s Heart of Sherwood: I need to re-read this one because it had everything I could have asked for. A lesbian Robin Hood with a good story that was a fun adventure which still somehow made me very emotional. 10/10.

That one zoom-play on YouTube: I bought the novel that was made based on this play just because this was so entertaining. In a year I’ve only read about 20 pages of the book but the play was so good and at one point so full of twists I was staring at the screen with my mouth open for like 10 minutes.

I could probably include even more things from my List (I have a list where I collect all the different versions I’ve seen/read/listened to etc), but this is already too long and I ended up taking a few things out. I only included versions I’ve enjoyed the most but there’s still plenty of good ones out there.

#robin hood #I love weird robin hood retellings #please someone talk to me about them

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liladiurne · 2 years

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Lila’s rec lists: Books Pt.1

I was asked by @younggardencandy for a list of things that inspire me and my writing. I was originally going to just throw things together, but as I started listing books, the list got much bigger than anticipated and I decided to just start with books and then go on to music (and then possibly movies?) I don’t know 🤣. We’ll see. Because I don’t want to annoy anyone, and because I don’t want to spent all day on this (knowing me, that could happen), I’ll split this into many parts. Maybe I can even make this a regular thing! Wouldn’t that be fun? (Well, for me at least...) Anyways, here is part 1!

So, here are some books that I love, and which have influenced me directly and, I’m sure, indirectly.

Call Me By Your Name (2007) - André Aciman

This is predictable but I couldn’t start this list any differently. This is probably my favourite book of all time. Aciman is a master when it comes to portraying the various ways in which love tortures us, and isn’t that what I’m all about??? 🤣 In all seriousness, I have recommended this book countless times and I will again and again. I know that there is a movie (and it is great, don’t get me wrong), but this book is something else. It is so much more immersive, so beautifully written, so heartwrenching. After reading it the first time, I couldn’t sleep for days. That’s how much it touched me. And I’ve read it once a year, every winter, since then. I guess reading it in the winter makes me forget about the cold outside and takes me to sunny Italy for a time.

Briefly, for those who have never heard of it, this book is about a clever 17-year-old who lives in Italy with his parents in the summers. His father is a very prominent professor of archaeology and every summer they host a Phd student in their beautiful villa so that this student can work on their thesis and assist the professor with his work. The book recalls the events of one particular summer where the visitor is a very handsome philosophy student with whom our main character is immediately fascinated. The book is narrated like a trip down memory lane, with various reminiscences of events sometimes vague, sometimes so very vivid. As opposed to the movie, there is a whole two more parts of the story that aren’t shown on screen (a tiny fraction of the second part is shown, but not nearly as much as we see in the book) and there is a considerable timeskip at the end, where the two characters meet again years later. It is an incredible story of how even the briefest of love stories can change us and remain with us throughout our lives.

Extract: But all these hours were strained by fear, as if fear were a brooding specter, or a strange, lost bird trapped in our little town, whose sooty wing flecked every living thing with a shadow that would never wash. I didn’t know what I was afraid of, nor why I worried so much, nor why this thing that could so easily cause panic felt like hope sometimes and, like hope in the darkest moments, brought such joy, unreal joy, joy with a noose tied around it. The thud my heart gave when I saw him unannounced both terrified and thrilled me. I was afraid when he showed up, afraid when he failed to, afraid when he looked at me, more frightened yet when he didn’t. The agony wore me out in the end, and, on scalding afternoons, I’d simply give out and fall asleep on the living room sofa and, though still dreaming, know exactly who was in the room, who had tiptoed in and out, who was standing there, who was looking at me and for how long, who was trying to pick out today’s paper while making the least rustling sound, only to give up and look for tonight’s film listings whether they woke me or not.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being (1984) - Milan Kundera

It’s been a few years since I’ve last read this one, and taking it out of my bookshelf reminded me that I should really give it another go. This is a very philosophical novel, and I’m sure I didn’t get half of the references and symbolism in there, but I enjoyed it anyway, and I remember parts of it often. The essence of it has stayed with me. When I say it’s “philosophical”, I hope I’m not putting anyone off 🤣 because it’s enjoyable, I swear! The writing is beautiful, the characters are fascinating. It’s also sort of a political novel, taking place during the Soviet occupation of Czechoslovakia in the 60s, so there’s an historical aspect to it as well.

The story is centred around four main characters: a doctor, his wife, his mistress, and his mistress’ lover. The central theme of the book is that lightness, in the title, which means that our lives are “light” because everything in them occurs only once, and as such, every single decision and every event can have irrevocable consequences. Or, at least, that’s what I got from it.

Extract: We can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come. Was it better to be with Tereza or to remain alone? There is no means of detecting which decision is better, because there is no basis for comparison. We live everything as it comes, without warning, like an actor going on cold. And what can life be worth, if the first rehearsal for life is life itself? That is why life is always like a sketch. No, sketch is not quite the word, because a sketch is an outline of something, the groundwork for a picture, whereas the sketch that is our life is a sketch for nothing, an outline with no picture.

Hunting and Gathering (2004) - Anna Gavalda

If you love found family stories, you’ll absolutely love this book. The story takes place in Paris and is about four very different people who find each other: Camille, a young artist suffering with anorexia who works as a cleaning lady at night; Philibert, a shy aristocrat with obsessive compulsive disorder; Franck, an outspoken womaniser chef; and Paulette, a senior lady living in a retirement home and longing for her house and her garden. I fell in love with these characters, with their insecurities and the way their messy lives cross and how they come to understand and love each other in spite of their differences.

Extract: Camille really wanted to draw her. Paulette’s face evoked little blades of grass from the roadside, wild violets, forget-me-nots, buttercups. A soft face, open, gentle, luminous, fine like Japanese paper. The lines of sorrow disappeared behind the vapor rising from the tea and gave way to a thousand little kindnesses at the corners of her eyes. Camille thought she was lovely. Paulette was thinking exactly the same thing. She was so graceful, this young thing, so calm and elegant in her vagabond’s trappings. She wished it were spring so she could show her the garden, the quince branches in bloom, and the scent of the seringa. No, this girl was not like other girls. An angel from heaven, who had to wear huge bricklayer’s boots to stay down here among us.

The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle (1994-1995) - Haruki Murakami

This is surely not the only Murakami book that will find itself on one of these lists, but it is so far my favourite (I have yet to read everything he’s written, though I think I can say I’m slowly getting there). How to explain this book? My gosh. It is such an adventure, I don’t think it’s possible to even summarise it. Let’s just say it starts when the main character begins searching for his lost cat, and then it all turns into a truly gripping mystery in which his wife goes missing as well and he meets a succession of very interesting and mysterious characters, in true Murakami fashion. This author is one of my absolute favourites. He is a master of magical realism and my god does he know how to grip a reader. Also, I aspire to reach his level of character building and dialogue. Oh, the dialogues. I like to say that every time two characters sit down for coffee in a Murakami novel, something incredible is about to be revealed. I devoured this book (which is quite a little brick, believe me) in something like three days. It’s funny, intriguing, touching, thought-provoking. I wish I could even begin to explain the plot, but then that might ruin all the mystery and the fun of discovering it for yourself!

Extract: Anyway, it seems to me that the way most people go on living (I suppose there are a few exceptions), they think that the world of life (or whatever) is this place where everything is (or is supposed to be) basically logical and consistent... It’s like when you put instant rice pudding mix in a bowl in the microwave, and push the button, and you take the cover off when it rings, and then you’ve got rice pudding. I mean, what happens in between the time when you push the switch and when the microwave rings? You can’t tell what’s going on under the cover. Maybe the instant rice pudding first turns into macaroni gratin in the darkness when nobody’s looking and only then turns back into rice pudding. We think it’s natural to get rice pudding after we put rice pudding mix in the microwave and the bell rings, but to me that’s just a presumption. I would be kind of relieved if, every once in a while, after you put rice pudding mix in the microwave and it rang and you opened the top, you got macaroni gratin.

Madame Bovary (1857) - Gustave Flaubert

I felt like I had to put at least one classic novel on this first list, and I couldn’t think of a better one to start with. It’s funny because the first time I read this book, I absolutely hated it. Either I was too young to understand or pay attention to the meaning of the story or it’s simply because I read it for school, which has the power to take the joy out of reading, doesn’t it? But for some reason, I felt inclined to read it again years later and wow did I fall in love with this book!

First of all, it should be noted that Madame Bovary, for the time it was written, was truly revolutionary. A story told not only from the point of view of a woman, but including such subjects as adultery, and the hardships of the feminine condition. Flaubert was actually accused of insulting public morals for writing this, and was only allowed to publish the book uncensored after being acquitted.

Madame Bovary is about a woman with dreams and hopes who aspires to live a full and adventurous life, but finds herself trapped in a boring and disappointing marriage with a humble man with whom she has barely anything in common. It’s so heartbreaking and so beautifully written that I don’t understand how I didn’t love this book at first reading. Shame on you, younger Lila! Shame on you!

Extract: At the bottom of her heart, however, she was waiting for something to happen. Like shipwrecked sailors, she turned despairing eyes upon the solitude of her life, seeking afar off some white sail in the mists of the horizon. She did not know what this chance would be, what wind would bring it her, towards what shore it would drive her, if it would be a shallop or a three-decker, laden with anguish or full of bliss to the portholes. But each morning as she awoke, she hoped it would come that day; she listened to every sound, sprang up with a start, wondered that it did not come; then at sunset, always more saddened, she longed for the morrow.

#book recs #rec lists #lila posts #lila recs

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aniketsanimationblog · 1 year

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Hey, it's me, Aniket Dhar!! And Welcome to my Blog - Aniket's Animation Blog!!

I have something to say, which I know, a lot of people don't even know about, but I think it's good to be said before it's too late!! And it's regarding Animation in a Global Scale!!

I reside from India, where Animation has not been great when it comes to original Intellectual Properties (IPs) but great at outsourcing Animation stuffs!! I love Animation ever since I was born and I used to watch a lots of Cartoons and stuff from late 90's and early 2000's!! There were lots of good stuffs we can get from TV, and back then, Cartoon Network, Nickelodeon, Disney Channel and others were used to show good qualities of content, which are now showing bad stuffs of content!! That discussion would be on another day!!

But That's not the topic at all I'm gonna cover!! I am an ardent Animation fan ever since my childhood, watching every single animated content (I mean, Family-friendly animated content, not the adult animation ones) I can consume!! The most vivid memories are from my childhood and there was a show I loved ever since I watched it, and that was Oswald!! Remember, that blue octopus with his pet dog called Weenie, that used to shown on Nick Jr.?? Well, if you remembered, then we're no different!! I used to watch Oswald a lot on weekdays before going to school and on holidays!! That one was my first favorite show at that time!!

I loved the story, the characters and the Opening and Closing Song, which were soothing to our ears!! And Oswald's Catchphrase, "Oh my gosh!!" and referring Weenie as, "Weenie-girl" And Henry, that Penguin, saying, "Great Scott!!", and Daisy, that Sunflower, saying " Wowie-Kazowie", like yeah!! That was great at that time!! But the show was very limited and it was canceled by Nick Jr. themselves!! At that time, Oswald was underrated in the USA. The show never gone up above 26 episodes!! But it gave me so many memories back then!! There are other shows as well at that time, but Oswald was like a guide for me for how to be a Gentleman!! The show itself was a gem!!

Another Animated show, that I think it should be mentioned, and I think it would be incomplete to post is a preschool show, that I adored and loved so much as I loved and adored the same with Oswald, was a Nick Jr. Series, that should deserve to get mentioned, because it was also underrated as well like Oswald, and it should not get Canceled in the first place after 2 seasons run, because a lot of people backlashed the show, despite I loved that!! And that was, none other than, Peter Rabbit

Before Digital Video Streaming Platforms like Netflix and Amazon Prime Video arrived, there was one show that came on TV and that show got me and I was hooked that I can't afford to miss any single episode of this series!! At that time, I was 14 years old watching Nick Jr. (It might sound funny, but the main thing started there)!! I started watching with curiosity, and it turned out to be the great show I can watch!! Peter Rabbit, which came out in 2012, based on the namesake book by Beatrix Potter, had so much thrills and fun and excitement, that I thought, it's my new favorite show after Oswald, I can watch!! The series revolved around Peter Rabbit, a young, mischievous and smart rabbit, who hops on to the adventures in his woods with his adventure-mates and friends, Benjamin Bunny and Lily Bobtail, for exploring something they think, they can achieve!! But they have to face some enemies, who wants to do bad things around them, like Mr. Tod, that fox who wants to eat them, Tommy Brock the Badger, Old Brown the Owl and most dangerous one, Mr. McGregor!! There were also Sammy Whiskers, that sneaky rat, who wants nothing but giving trouble to the main 3 protagonist rabbits!! But All-in-all, the best thing were when Peter uses his late good ol' dad's journal to solve things and whenever Peter and his friends are in trouble, he used to say his father's catchphrase, "A Good Rabbit Never Gives Up!!" And that catchphrase gives me a vocal tonic to not give up no matter what's the situation!! Just Wow!! But sadly, it would've end a great way, but it was canceled after a couple of seasons, making no bidding farewells whatsoever!!

Years Passed, and I was waiting for another show to be on that same enthusiasm and same greatness as I got in Oswald and Peter Rabbit!! But in 2020's decade, yup, the COVID-19 Pandemic happened!! The world was locked down!! Everyone were watching the content they used to watch in their childhood, whether it's on TV or on Streaming Platforms!! A new content before pandemic were consumed on the Streaming Platforms like Netflix and Prime Video as BINGE-WATCHING became the new norm!! There was Streaming war happened when Disney+ arrived during Pandemic, And all that!! But in 2021, something big happened!! The Beginning Year of Paramount+ in the USA!! And at same year, I have access to Paramount+ (US one), to watch Oswald, Peter Rabbit and other stuff as well!! But in October, a new show arrived and that show is now currently my Favorite show that I have to wait every week for new episode to drop in the afternoon!! And surprisingly, it's not a Preschool show, it's a Nickelodeon produced, Paramount+ original, that I think it is the equivalent to Nick's favorite show by the critics back in the 2000's, which was Avatar: The Last Airbender, of course!! But this isn't Avatar: The Last Airbender!! It is, none other than, from A famous and oldest Sci-fi franchise!! Yup, I'm talking about Star Trek: Prodigy

At first glance, I was never a Star Trek Fan in the first place!! And I wasn't a nerdy Sci-fi fan whatsoever!! But I saw some promos of it running on Nick US!! And it was a Paramount+ original!! I watched Star Wars: Visions Anime on Disney+ back then, it was good on its own!! But I headed onto Paramount+ and Star Trek: Prodigy was on the banner of the home screen!! That's why I thought it would be a hit or miss, but I thought it's worth a try!! And it turned out to be really good!! Yeah, agreed, at first, it was a bit of Star Wars-esque, and some animation resembling like Star Wars: The Clone Wars, which I used to watch in my Childhood, but stopped it early out of interest, anyhow!! The show is likely a sequel to the Star Trek series "Voyager", as per the fans of the esteemed franchise say, because it has Kate Mulgrew reprising her role as Kathryn Janeway, the Captain of USS Voyager and main character in "Star Trek: Voyager" Series!! Again I say, I hadn't watched any Star Trek series or movies until I discovered Prodigy in the first place, so I was new to this Sci-fi franchise!!

At first glance, the series premiere episode was good, per se, but others who are Star Trek fans in general, not all of them, but some of them saying and complaining that this is a cheap knock-off of Star Wars and it's an insult to Star Trek (I'll get to them later on), and people are giving negative reviews around it!! But I think, I would continue on, because the negative reviewers were about to quit the show without continuing any further!! After Episode no. 4, I was hooked, because it was serialized!! And when suddenly after Episode no. 6, some negative reviewers were coming back and continuing further!! And I think it was a game changer by the time episode 8 came out!! And for characters, I loved the main characters in Star Trek: Prodigy, which made a great sense to the show itself!! When most of the popular animated series lacked of character development and story arc, Star Trek: Prodigy gained them by using and executing at proper times!! Like Dal R'El, for example!! At first, fans were annoyed around Dal's character in first few episodes, but after Episode no. 6 or 7 onwards, the complaints were gone, and now he is acclaimed as suitable captain of USS Protostar!! Same for Gwyndala aka. Gwyn!! At first, I thought she would do something worst to Dal and his crew, but in episode 5, she changed her mind and she was wrong about Dal and his crew!! And same for Rok-Tahk, the brikar!! And everyone, including the main antagonist, Gwyn's Father, the Diviner!! Great Redemption Arc by the way at the end of season 1!! For USS Protostar's Hologram Janeway and Vice Admiral Janeway of USS Dauntless, voiced by Kate Mulgrew herself, is an icing on the cake!! Throughout Season 1 spanned from late 2021 to end of 2022, I had no problems around this series, making it the best animated series on the Post-COVID era and my another favorite show, except for one, that it's not even creating a big trendsetting buzz, which I think it should deserve that, among Animation Fans, which is a shame!! I'm not talking about those Animation Fans who watched previous Star Trek series or being a Star Trek Fan!! Animation fans should watch this series regardless of being A Star Trek fan or not!! Because, you've got great Animation, Visuals, great set of characters, New and reprising, great set of Voice Actors like Brett Gray (Dal R'El), Ella Purnell (Gwyn), Rylee Alazraqui (Rok-Tahk), Jason Mantzoukas (Jankom Pog), Dee Bradley Baker (Murf) etc. And Great Plot, Character Arc and Redemption Arc , with great designs, giving lessons and values of Starfleet and everything they boldly gone (No Pun intended)!! But Nickelodeon and Paramount+ should've promoted more of it!! I know, second season is coming later this year!! But they should not cancel way too early like what they did to Oswald and Peter Rabbit!! It feels like they're underrated for some reason or other!!

But Why Am I talking these to you?? Because, in the likes of Popularity of a series, we're missing out some gems, which should've been the trendsetting phenomenon in the first place!! All of these are just examples!!

All of them are my favorites and these shows are wonderful on their own!! But, the problem lies when Animation Fans neglect them for nothing!! No disrespect intended, but Star Trek: Prodigy should've been a buzz around animation fandom on a global scale, regardless of being a Star Trek fan or not!! Same would go for Oswald and Peter Rabbit for great classic storytelling!! It's the Animation Audience's fault for not creating a buzz around them!!

I want to ask a question to everyone who loves Animation, who lives in Animation:

Why don't you support such deserving Gem-like series?? If you give that much attention to Miraculous Ladybug, then why don't you give the same amount of attention or more to those Animated Series, which deserve to get Recognition and Love with some media Buzz??

So, that's it for this post!! Sorry for this long post, but I need to get it off of my chest!! I hope, Animation fandom should realize that with time being!!

Thank you so much for reaching to the end of this post!! Peace!!

#oswald the octopus #nickelodeon #nick jr #peter rabbit #peter rabbit tv series #star trek prodigy #animation #animation fans #animation fandom

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callistochan87 · 2 years

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I’m working on design sheets. I don’t really need to do them because Lord knows I’ve done enough of them, but they’re fun, and a bit soothing to work on. I was going to wait until I had a bit more, but. impatience gets the better of me once again. I might take a break to work on other pictures.

(I didn't really need to do the first section of either - I just wanted to show that the previous designs were still valid.)

Anyway, I've decided to change some things up. Christine was always started as a teeeeeeeensy bit of a self-insert to go on adventures with. Keeping her perpetually 17/18 was getting difficult for me, especially given the plot of the book is her/her friends being abducted - the idea that their parents would just stay on Earth didn't seem right. Anyway. There were a lot of ideas and a lot of drafts, which I will likely summarize in another post, but for now, they've all been aged up. I like this idea. This is me going 'screw it I'll do what makes me happy' If that means 1910s dress and whatever i feel like, then so be it.

Christine's backstory is the same: she saw an alien at least once during her childhood, an event that has impacted her entire life since then, filling her with an interest in the stars but also a sort of longing, a restlessness, that's dogged her throughout her life. She loved her husband, her work is good, but at the same time she can't help but feeling like she's just going through the motions of life. Sure, it's comforting enough--if not stressful, tasking care of her ailing mother and a husband who works 3-week rotations at the mines--but...there's something missing.

Then she sees the alien again. Her mother has passed away only weeks before, her husband is gone away back on another 3-week shift, she's emotionally out of sorts and numb, but this fills her with a weird hope, more so than she's ever thought in her life.

When she sees him walking somewhere, she decided to put on her coat and follow him.

(I was going to have her have the necklace, but there was no real reason for it. I like the idea that she doesn't have a souvenir to remember the trip by, just her own memories and her and her mother's shared insistence that it was real. A secret between them. Even Eric, who she trusted enough to tell, doesn't really believe it was anything more than a fantasy, or a vivid dream, or her incorrectly remembering a normal event. He finally tells her this when he feels she's latching onto the story too hard after her mother's death. She does not appreciate it.)

I will dig up the link later, but the Erebus dress was based off of one from the 1910s? I really liked it. I decided to make it purple. That was always 'her' colour ever since she was Sailor Selene, so I decided to lean hard into it.)

Eric is also much the same, although some of the details may have shifted between drafts, but as it stands, his family is his father Alexander, a pilot (what airline? No idea, uhh, Air Tindi?? i have no ideaaaaa); his mother Anne, a nurse; his twin sister Shelby, who was really close with Christine in high school and into university; and his younger brother Garrett. (Garrett is a slightly newer addition, story-wise.)

Eric has always had some interest in nature, at least in more recent drafts, so he's a professional geologist, working out at the mines. (I don't know anyone who personally works for the northern mines so I'm not entirely sure of the stability of the job - I know some mines shut down production occasionally, so he might have worked at several different ones.)

Mine work is anywhere between 2 weeks on (they fly you out to the mine and you stay there), 2 weeks off (back home). During Covid some of the mines were straight month-on, month-off deals. I think it varies by mine, but a common number I hear is about 3 weeks on, 3 weeks off, so that's what I'm going with. I have not specified which nothern Canadian mine he works at, and that's quite deliberate. He stays in the north, maybe Alberta. At any rate he's often not home, which...well, he doesn't like it, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

He's helpful. I almost want to say helpful to a fault, helpful to the point where it's actually a problem-not for him, but, maybe for his wife. I read a story about a guy who had a near-death experience, and afterward he just wanted to help everyone. It sounds great when you put it like that, but his wife was less than thrilled when it felt like he didn't prioritize her over random strangers, or was so unconcerned with material things that he wouldn't do things liker 'get rid of the broken down couch' because what did it matter? or something, it was worded better than that, it's been ages since I read that book/

anyway that's the level of help I was thinking of, where his wife would like some prioritizing over random coworkers. I'm not sure how to show that or if I want to go that far. I was also debating whether or not he should have a NDE as a child, both as a parallel to Christine's alien experience and as an explanation for why most things seem pretty chill (everything does in the face of dying).

If he did, it would probably be when he was about 11-12, and would've been something like nearly drowning when out camping with his family during the summer - scary, but also pretty mundane.

He's very concerned after his mother-in-law dies. Chris isn't taking it well, he can't seem to get her to cheer up, and he also feels a bit useless for not being there (for a legitimate reason - bills goota get paid) when he knows damn well she needed the help (and both she and her father really hated the idea of sending her mother down south to a nursing home, away from her family, so. That didn't happen).

He tries to approach his own mother but...Anne. Anne's a nurse. She's a little caregiver burnt out herself. Eric's a grown adult. She can;t be doing everything. He'll have to man up and deal with his feelings. This is zero percent helpful for everyone involved.

His father is a little more balanced, as he usually is, but even in this situation there isn't much Eric can do but just try to help when he is home. This doesn't help Eric feeling useless, and concerned. Chris latches onto thr story really hard after her mother dies, including hoarding her mother's notebooks, talking about it almost incessantly. On some level he understands it;'s soothing; on another level he just wants to hug her and make thing sbetter, and he can't, and he's frustrated.

He maybe phrases his words more harshly than he intends to. And choosing to tell them to Christine when she's literally driving him to the airport so he can leave for another three weeks is probably not good timing. But you can't take things back when they're said.

He's angry and upset, mostly at himself, because she doesn't reaxct well and he's literally just thrown that bomb in her face and left. He texts when she lands just to let her know he arrived safely. Usually she says something more than just "ok". He usually calls every night when he's away, but she makes clear that he really hurt her feelings. Their calls become less frequent. He tries to give her distance.

Halfway through week three, she just stops picking up the phone. Straight to voicemail. He texts Konnie, the only other one of their friends still in town. Chris is still mad. She's pretty mad, too - he knew damn well what that story meant to her, regardless of what Eric thought, and he still chose to say it. Eric and Konnie have never been super close, so this isn't surprising, but it doesn't help.

Still, despite everything, mad or not, she's never failed to meet him at the airport. Even if she's delayed, she texts to say why. When he arrives at the airport and she's not there, not picking up the phone, he thinks it weird. Loath to pay for a taxi, he asks Konnie to pick him up instead, mostly because she lives close to the airport and there's no guarantee his parents or Garrett would be free.

That's weird, she says, doesn't Chris usually pick you up?

She does, but she's not answering her phone for Eric. She's not answering for Konnie either, and that's weird.

Her car's not in the driveway when they get home. The place looks like it hasn't been touched for a couple days. Her coffee cup is still sitting in the sink.

Okay, nobody panic. They drive by her father's place. She'ds been staying with him for a bit. Her car's not there, either. They elect not to tell her father, who would probably not handle it well if they were asking where Christine was, not so soon after losing his wife.

They find her car parked along the side of the road before a hiking trail. Chris doesn't like hiking. Konnie has tried taking her on a few of the easier trails and it often involved half-crawling up the rock, unsteady balance, not liking it. This wouldn't be a place she would go, especially not in the dead of winter when the ice would be bad. There are no obvious tracks, but it's the likeliest lead they have. It leads them out [I'm not sure where - initially thinking a lake but could be a variety of places]. Something happened there, judging by the debris, but there's no sign of Christine...except for [some item that's clearly hers - could be her car keys, something of her mother's, or if I wanted to go for the real gut punch her wedding, ring, but I don't think that'd be likely if she's wearing gloves, as she would be].

So. Christine was there, but now she's not, and something happened there. They pick up some of the strange debris. Eric is panicking in a way thatv he has never done so before, and goes to the one place that he would go to when he's stressed: his parents.

Thank God his father answers the door; if Anne had answered it'd be a different story entirely. He manages to get the details out. He's obviously concerned. He knows people, he can get a helicopter over the area to see if they can see anything - possibly she fell (we don't want to think about that).

It's going - not fine, but somewhat sensibly, until they show him the debris. It's about the only clue they have. ...It means something to him. They're not sure what, since it just looks like funny black rocks, but his expression says it all. He asks them to confirm what they saw.

...Alexander thinks he might know where Chris is, might. It's a gamble, since there are a lot of places within there she could be, but any lead is better than no lead. Eric wants to go right the fuck NOW. hang on. It's not that easy. You have to be very, very sure you want to do this, because once you leave Earth, you can't come back.

...

Anyway, Chris handles Erebus very well! Eric...does not.

(considering I'm trying to move away from things that have obvious Earth analogues - ie the use of mythological names, I feel like I should move away from 'Erebus' as a planet name - no matter if it fits VERY WELL - but it's been that for so long that ehhh, I don't know what I'd replace it with.)

#celestial souls #my stories #my art #designs

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ejaydoeshisbest · 1 month

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Chapter 5.8

I kicked and stomped the roots. I felt like I had no place to go. I was too scared to go to the beach by myself, afraid that I might bump into that vile woman. Afraid that I’ll meet more of her. And people will mumble and mutter behind their breaths, buzzing words that will pester us. But I also didn’t want to go back inside the house. She was turning me into something that she would recognize, turning into someone she would understand. Someone who wouldn't be the cause of whispers of people who had plenty of time on their hands to be rude and stupid.

I heard her leave the house and call my name. She was going to the market again. Or someplace else. She had a lot of friends, like you. As soon as I heard her gates close, I went back inside, grabbed the keys she always left under the miniature globe on the bookshelf, and climbed up the stairs to unlock that door.

A click and the doorknob turned.

My hand was on the metal. I didn’t think myself a disobedient kid, but then I realized that maybe there weren’t things to be disobedient about back in the city. I just wanted to see her somewhere around the house. I wanted to see her ghost, her specter, her memories, her life before me.

Colors seized my eyes as soon as I entered.

I was prepared to see nothing; taped boxes and thick curtains draping over secrets. But there were paintings stacked on paintings: a tower of canvas. Those that were the most vivid were framed and displayed on the walls. I walked over. I saw my mother's signature. There were paintings of both her lives; her past and present: carabaos in the mud, a field of flowers, the sea, the skyscrapers near our apartment.

There was one painting in the middle. It was a portrait of me as a baby, nestled between two arms. One younger and one wrinkled. My mother and grandmother. This was the only painting that was encased in glass. I accidentally kicked over a large stack of old journals when I inspected it. I picked one up and saw sketches of me grinning with one tooth, and one when I was playing with my mother’s hair. There were old scratchy photographs of me in this province; one in the town square splashing in a fountain, one eating fish balls and squid balls, one in the sunset at the beach, and one at the garden with lola. I was a bright beaming kid.

And then as I flipped through the journals, I saw that my father had sent photos of me in the city. I was wearing my clean school uniform. I was riding on a merry-go-round. I was eating ube and chocolate ice cream. My smiles were dim, the kind of smile where someone had to tell me to smile.

I looked around. There were other things too, like my lolo’s instruments; books and a telescope and almanacs. She all kept them here. I didn’t understand.

I didn’t hear lola enter through the door. “She was so talented, your mother.” She spoke gently enough but I still jumped from my skin. She walked over and caressed the painting I was looking at. Then she thumbed the frame of another work: the one with a clear blue sky and a flowering meadow.

She said, “Her first painting. How I boasted of her." She closed her eyes. She bit her lip. "Ella didn’t like that. As the principal, I should have had the foresight that the other students might make her feel awkward, but as a mother… how could I not be overjoyed with what she has in her?” Lola took in a breath. Her eyes looked around as if seeing the room for the first time as if she didn't lock herself in these walls every time she felt alone. “I thought she would be full of life and color if this is what she saw, that her world must be so vibrant. But then as she grew older, she… closed herself to life and I couldn’t bring her out, no matter what we did. She stopped tasting her favorite food. I watched her chew without feeling the flavor, I just knew it. She cut off all her friends, saying that they were all making fun of her, anyway, and it was best to be alone than deal with all that. And it broke my heart every day to see her like that.” My grandmother looked at me. Her eyes were like smooth glass. “It’s just like with you. Haven’t you noticed I’ve been cooking your favorite food?”

I didn’t. I just realized that she’s been cooking adobo for lunch and buying cheese rolls in the bakery nearby during meryenda.

“You’re just like her Mikha. Sweet and silent. And...” Lola stowed the portrait away. “It hurt me, that I couldn’t understand my own daughter. My own daughter. And she didn’t want to talk to me no matter how much I pleaded with her to reach out. I was right here. Her father and I were just right here." She sniffed. "I saw her look at the stars every night, and we felt this… this anger and urgency inside her, I don’t know what to call it. Not long after that, she decided she would go to the city and I was so scared that she would never look back.” She touched her chest. “I felt that nothing would ever satisfy her no matter how far she’d go and I was afraid she would go where I couldn’t reach her and go where she would be forever lost.”

And now she's gone. And I hope she's happy there in Canada. I hope she gets to paint all of her heart's desires.

It took a long time before we said anything. I gave lola the photo album I held. “It isn’t because she wasn’t satisfied. It’s just that she knew she would belong… someplace else. I think she wanted people who would understand her.”

I told her that Mama still looked at the stars at night. She was always somewhere away. I wondered if she was still looking at the stars right now, wherever she was.

“I tried to understand her as best I could.” She said, looking at the floor. “If only I could speak through colors.”

I went over to her and touched her arm. I swallowed. "We tried to understand her too." It hurt to say the next part. “We sometimes couldn’t understand her either.” I thought that it wasn’t my job to understand my mother. “But we just let her become herself, even when that meant she would disappear for a while. We just had to remind her that we’re always nearby. Just like you did.”

Lola said nothing. She wiped her face with her skirt. I looked away and touched the thick stack of books.

“Why did you hide them all?”

Lola turned towards me. Her eyes were like the surface of a fish pond. “All these were in the living room in full display. But I couldn't bear to look at them. Especially now that your mother’s far away. I thought it would hurt you too.”

So that was why the walls were so empty. I shook my head. “It’s amazing, what she did. Imagine… me coming from someone who can paint that way. See the world that way.”

There was a shadow of expression that passed on Lola’s face. “With respect to your father, you are as deep as your mother. You’re becoming more like her now.” She smiled. It was a smile playing on the fringes of sadness, melancholy, and something else.

I said, “I’m sure you did your best to understand her. You encouraged her. Maybe she should have tried harder as well. And I’m sorry that I unlocked the door.”

“I’m sorry that I kept it from you. This was also your lolo’s office, by the way. This was where you—”

“Sat on his lap and asked questions, I think I’m remembering now.” I grinned. I think I saw myself crawling and looking at his gray hair and strong arms. I wish I could have inherited that. I’ve got my father’s arms instead; slender, and I suppose, now that I look at them, my mother’s fingers.

I looked at my grandmother, as if just I finally met her for the first time again after years of being apart. “Lola, I like to draw. I'm not very good at it, actually. But I like doing it. I like to read, too. I spend most of my time alone because other people don’t like how I can be with myself for too long." At least, that's what I think. The alien who has a world of his own, they say. There are other kids like me, but we don’t usually stick together. I think because they’re rich and I’m not. Or maybe I haven’t met the right people yet.” I smiled at her. "Maybe some of you can rub off on me. It's so easy for you to make friends," I said.

Lola chuckled. We went out of the room together, closing the door behind her. I didn’t hear her lock it. Everything was lighter after that. I found that it was easier for my words to flow.

During dinnertime, I helped her with the fish, and I tasted, finally tasted, her cooking. And I smiled at the vinegar and soy sauce on my tongue. We washed the dishes together. We went out towards the mango tree and watched the stars, allowing the night wind to blow our hair until I yawned.

I asked her if she'd allow me to hang the first painting Mama ever made in my room. There it is now, the only splash of color on the bare walls. This was the room she grew up in, the room she could not wait to get away from. She started painting at my age. I wonder if I can make something like that.

#lgbtqia #gay romance #friends to lovers #short story #boy meets boy #philippines #childhood friends

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firstdegreefangirl · 1 year

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March 2023 Reading Wrap-Up

(A few days late, but finally here!)

Total books read: 6

Total pages read: 2,152

Days read: 27/31

Average star rating: 3.79/5

Challenge Prompts Filled: 14 in March; 33 total. Popsugar: 4(10)/40. Romanceopoly: 5(10)/36. CRAD: 1(3)/12. BTBL: 4(11)/52

Mini reviews under the cut!

Unpregnant by Jenna Hendriks and Ted Caplan

��⭐⭐⭐(¼)

Me, sitting down for “a few minutes” to read on my night off work. Then, also me, closing the back cover like 90 minutes later. Once this story got under way, I was hooked. The pacing was perfect for a weekend-long, time-crunched road trip. I loved watching Ronnie rebuild her friendship with Bailey and rediscover the person she should have been all along. The only thing I might have changed was waning to see Kevin face just a few more consequences for how he kickstarted the story, but that’s Ronnie’s choice to make and I’m glad she reclaimed her agency from him. When I picked this one up from the 50 cent library sale rack, I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect from an “abortion road trip,” but this was laugh out loud funny in places, and just perfectly heartwarming in others. All of that said, Albuquerque is too far from Missouri, which was … kind of the point.

Challenge Prompts: Beat the Backlist – Featuring travel (time optional)

The Donut Trap by Julie Tieu

⭐⭐⭐⭐

This was really cute! I love second-chance romance, and the missed connections element made it even more interesting to me. It was really fun getting to watch Jasmine and Alex get to know each other for who they are, not just the images they’d built up in their heads. That said, I wasn’t a huge fan of the ex-boyfriend arc, or Alex being really jealous when Jas interacted with her ex, even though she assured him more than once that there wasn’t anything there. They were friends first, they run in the same social group, they’re going to cross paths here and there. There was some excellent personal growth, though, seeing Jas learn to go after what she wants and do things for herself. The PR/marketing angle was really fun, as someone who took a few classes and dabbled there in college, and who doesn’t love a book about donuts? (Note: as I’m writing this review like two weeks after I read the book, I’m realizing that it was cute, but largely forgettable. It’s a light, fluffy romance, but nothing that totally changed my life. Good read, definitely recommend it, but a lot of the details and such have already slipped my memory. VIVID memories of the Dodgers cap scene, though, if that sways anyone’s opinions.)

Prompts filled: Romanceopoly – Has yellow on the cover

What if It's Us? by Becky Albertalli and Adam Silvera

⭐⭐⭐

OK, first of all, as a proud Broadway fan, I’m ashamed to admit how long it took me to realize that the title and the section titles are all from Dear Evan Hansen lyrics. I should have caught on right away, that’s my show, but WOW did I miss that one. That said, this has been on my TBR for ages, but it’s longer than some of the other books, so I kept putting it off. I’m glad I finally pulled it out, even if it was my slowest/longest read for the month. The pacing was just about perfect, and I love the MCs. Liiiiiiitle weird for me because I know close friends irl with the names of two of the characters, but that’s a personal issue and I don’t expect it to be universally relatable. No fault of the authors that they named the characters after my friends. Again with the missed connections romances, but this one took a fun and literal spin on it for the first section of the book. It’s been a minute since I’ve thought about CL missed connections ads, but it was so much fun watching the characters try to find each other in all of NYC. And once they did, I loved getting to follow along as they navigated summer romance and that instant connection they felt to one another. The ending was beautiful, if heart-wrenching, but it helped me to know that there’s a sequel to follow up on where things left off. And I loved how chock-full it was of musical references and New York City through the eyes of someone experiencing that part of the world for the first time.

Prompts filled: Popsugar – A book with a song lyric as the title; Romanceopoly – M/M romance; BTBL – Multiple POVs

Everything Leads to You by Nina LaCour

⭐⭐⭐(½)

I judge books by their covers. I’ll say it. Especially when they’re at the dollar store so it’s a low-risk investment. The text on the cover of this one was/is SO PRETTY, and I loved the premise of “you have to do something epic this summer,” without any elaboration on what that something might be. The MCs are all freshly graduated from high school, but honestly they read enough like adults that this didn’t feel particularly YA except where it was specifically mentioned. It walked a very neat line between “handles real-world issues with characters who feel like real people” and “fluffy romance novel” that can be a hard balance to strike. I related so hard to Emi looking for the perfect couch, as someone who will get clear visions of what I’m trying to find and refuse to settle for anything less. Ava’s story is heartbreaking and beautiful, and I loved watching Emi and Charlotte try to navigate their differences from her with tact and compassion, even when they didn’t always understand what she’d been through. (Also, it’s not likely to fit better anywhere else in this review, so I’ll just point it out here: I’m picturing Clyde as Sam Elliot, and I will not be accepting constructive criticism at this time or ever.) I don’t know a lot about the inner workings of Hollywood and/or the film industry, but I really enjoyed the behind the scenes look at indie films. The ending stressed me out; there was a point where I remember clearly thinking that there was no way they’d be able to wrap everything up in the number of pages that were left, but everything felt nicely paced and the falling action wasn’t rushed. Very cute, less fluffy than other books I’ve read but not in a way that made it feel hard to digest. There were a few parts where I didn’t feel very invested in what came next, which is where the stars got knocked off, but all things considered, I enjoyed this one.

Prompts filled: Romanceopoly – Ever Afters St/Sapphic romance; Popsugar – A book about or set in Hollywood; BTBL – This house is alive (or at least very important)

A Million Little Things by Susan Mallery

⭐⭐⭐(½)

As we know, I love Susan Mallery. By and large, she writes a great blend of women’s lit and romance, all in the same story. This was a fun read, for sure, but fell a little flat for me compared to some of her others. Mostly, I think she tried to do too much with characters who spent too much time apart. The book follows three women, two best friends and one of the friends’ mothers, but for large portions of the story they’re not really on speaking terms with each other. It made the different storylines feel disjoined and distant from one another. All three stories were interesting, but I think they might have been better served separately, or at least with clearer distinguishments between the different POVs. Pam is a complicated woman and I liked watching her actively fight against her internal biases (for the record: pictured her as Wendie Malick). Jen’s growth was tangible, and her ending tugged at my heartstrings. And I LOVE Zoe. It was so rewarding to see her grow into herself as an adult and learn to take charge of her own life. Even when some of the people in her world didn’t support her, she never wavered on her own beliefs, and that’s an admirable sort of conviction. The ending felt abrupt, though. Jen’s storyline was resolved pretty completely, but everyone else’s seemed to be left more open/ambiguious -- which isn’t necessarily a bad way to end a story, but it left things feeling a little unbalanced between the three MCs. All in all, Mallery is still one of, if not my favorite author, but there are other books of hers that I’d recommend over this one.

Prompts Filled: BTBL – Family drama; Romanceopoly – Spring/secret pregnancy; Popsugar: Book about a family

Just My Type by Falon Ballard

⭐⭐⭐(½)

I love this one! What an excellent impulse purchase at Target, even if I came home from the store and remembered that I’d already been approved for the ARC and forgotten to read it before publication. Everything from the bright purple color to the journalism-themed second-chance love story felt like it was catered perfectly to my tastes, and once I made it into the story, I was excited to find out that I was right! The characters feel so real and authentic, down to their little quirks and cell phone ringtones in a way that made the story so incredibly immersive. The idea of a love story that's centered around staying single was unlike anything I've read before, and I loved watching Lana grow into herself as a person. Outside of the romance plotlines, there was just enough side plot about her life (her mom, her boss, her bestie, etc) that she felt like such a REAL person, not one half of a love story. The only thing I'd have liked to see in the ending was a bit of closure on her friend's relationship status (if you know, you know). Now I'm going to have to go back and read Lease on Love, and I can't wait to find out what stories come next!

Prompts Filled: CRAD March (starts with next letter in the alphabet); Popsugar: BookTok recommendation; Romanceopoly: Flirts Corner/Contemporary romance by an author I haven’t tried before.

#katie reads #kr23 #march 2023 #about katie

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movingonandlearningmyself · 1 year

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We’re coming up to a year without you. It seems so surreal. And damn has it been stressful and overwhelming.

I miss you more each day it seems. I miss your funny light hearted laugh. SB says that sometimes I laugh like you. It warms my heart but also breaks it to think about how much I embody you. I wish I had vivid memories. It’s something that’s been breaking my heart lately. I can’t picture you in my mind and I know it would be comforting if I could. So I’m attempting to take up scrapbooking. Also designed a memory book for myself. I still talk about you so much but I don’t think I ever won’t. You were my hilarious best friend and roommate. And a loving MIL to SB. You are just so deeply missed mom. I wish we would have had more time. But I’m so so so grateful that I got extra time with you. Honestly I’m glad I didn’t lose you at 4 years old to cancer the first time. I feel like I remember you saying that you took parenting classes because you wanted to be the best mom. And you prioritized me and my well-being over a lot of other things. I wish I had a sibling to carry this grief with me. I wish I had another person with your genes to talk to. Maybe that’s weird but it’s the historian in me. 😂. Grateful for the inside floor picnics, making buckeyes, being read to every night for at least my first 9 years ( Shout out Dolly for her book program- my mom used it with me). Grateful for being taught to find joy and grace in hand me downs and welfare. My mom loved me so much and wanted me to stay myself that she allowed the weird things to flourish. I honestly don’t remember a time where I sincerely felt belittled or made to feel smaller for my feelings. I realize now how freeing that was for me and how that has contributed to my deep emotional intelligence. I never was made fun of for being upset. She may try to fix and struggle to listen sometimes, but I could cry to her at any age about pretty much anything and she would be a comfort. That’s true love if you ask me.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that this last year has tested me and I’ve had a lot of hard shit happen. But my mothers memory is a blessing. Her cards. Her words.

She prepared SB to be here for me after she was gone. I’m not quite sure how she did it and what all they discussed, but somehow mom helped them process her death before she was even gone. Don’t get me wrong, SB is grieving just as much as me. Probably more to be honest. But I also think mom was able to give them comfort and wise words they can remember forever. One of the things I love about them is their incredible memory and recall. When I struggle to remember mom I can ask them to tell me a story about her. I feel deep pain that SB didn’t have more time to live with mom. They deserved more time with her.

#personal #mom #2023 #me #family

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oooortcloud · 1 year

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hiiii ✨

i am so sorry for such a late response, i had such a stressful week but is better now! how was your week? 🥰

i am sort of curious about the second part of avatar but i also saw the first one in sixth grade, have a vivid memory of making a plan with friends to see it in the brand new imax theater in town! lol. so i won’t remember anything, are you planning to watch ??

how was being at home??

Omg that book sounds so interesting! I had never heard of it, I want to check it out 👀

my favorite book is probably tuck everlasting or these violent delights (the one by micah nemerever!). food… hmmm…. i do love pasta 🫶 but idk bc I just love food so much so mayhaps anything that’s lemon and garlic?!??? hard to say haha. pastry wise i love macrons a lot but croissants w chocolate are one of my loves as well<3 (ik that’s not the proper name but can’t think of it rn 🫣)

the class average was THREE??? your teacher needs to do some serious work omg, in my opinion if the class is doing that poorly as a whole that’s a reflection on them. so congratulations on 8, that’s awesome :))). tbh i wasn’t good at math either so must be a gay thing 😔 lol. i hope you had fun at home and loved your new haircut :D

any New Years resolutions?? 👀

sending you the best ♥️♥️

-k✨

hello <333 happy new year !!!! no problem!! im glad the pressure has gone down a bit now :)

yeah we watched it! i think the first one was better though haha. there was just a lot of pointless violence in this. being home was amazing!!! well a mix of amazing and nostalgic

i havent read any of those so theyre going to my to read list !!! yeah no i get it it's soooo hard to pick a fav food. wait croissants with chocolate have a separate name ?! ok i just checked its called chocolatine according to google lmao thats so insane i had no idea about that

yeah!!! probably, the teaching is not exactly very efficient. hehe the gay curse is real lmao. also speaking of math, i have ANOTHER math quiz in two days i hate life

i DO love my new haircut!!! it's perfect, i was going to go with layers but the hairstylist suggested against it bc my hair is very bouncy (?) that's the word he used. so i got a normal dora kind of haircut and it looks amazing!!!!

my new year's resolution is to finally tell my best friend that i like her :] idk how ill do it but its been too long now and i have to or ill go insane. what's your new years resolution?

i hope you had an amazing christmas and new year :))) love you lots i hope this year brings you happiness <3

#k✨

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maryoliverdotcom · 7 months

Text

A Shade Darker Than Red: Chapter 8

this is a repost because tumblr, being a jerk as always, decided to delete the former post. if you like this one, you could maybe check out the entire series using the masterlist i'll post in a few minutes.

A week passed by. Paro was eerily quiet when she was with me, and I thought of what I had said that day. Had I really, truly ruined all my chances of saving even our friendship?

A million thoughts rushed through my head as I turned restlessly in bed, staring at the ceiling.

The ceiling of our bedroom was painted with blue fluorescent stickers shaped like stars. Papa had done that. I had asked Maa to take them off if they bothered her, but we never did.

Beside me, Maa tossed in her sleep. They say if you think of someone, they can’t fall asleep. Could she hear my thoughts?

I had nothing to distract myself with. No phone, no book—nothing. Just me, my thoughts and the stars on the ceiling.

An annoying ding! from my phone forced me back to reality. I heard Maa’s grunts and snores: the coast was clear.

I climbed off the bed, taking care not to put extra weight anywhere that would make the mattress creak. I walked towards the desk and picked up the phone.

WhatsApp: You have 3 messages.

It was Paro. I checked the time: 3:49 a.m. Paro was a morning person, what was she doing staying up all night?

Paro<3:

hi renu are you awake?

—00:27

do you wanna hang out on the roof like we used to?

—02:01

its ok if you dont wanna. go back to sleep you have a big day tmrw. actually, if ur awake rn i’ll kill you

—03:48

Oh, Paro.

I glanced at Maa, slowly increasing the fan’s regulator. Please don’t wake up soon.

I walked out of the room and closed the door. Thank goodness I’d oiled its hinges last week.

The main door was locked—opening it meant creating a ruckus. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath. No wait, actually not shit. This meant I’d have to take the old way around.

Jeez, fourteen-year-old me was fun.

Oh well, the damage was done. I found myself opening the gate on instinct, as if I knew Paro’s house better than I did my own.

I stepped into their garden, careful not to trample on any beetles—and made my way to the window of the woman who lived below Paro’s flat. Madame Fosco, I called her, in everything but her looks.

I screamed.

My foot slipped and I fell off the tin shade, tumbling onto the grass once again. At this point, I would be surprised if a grasshopper hadn’t found its home in my ear.

“For Whitman’s sake, hush,” I whisper-shouted, if that’s a thing. If it wasn’t, it probably is by now.

Paro peered out of the window, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed.

I shook my head (in case a grasshopper had organised a nice family dinner in my hair) and climbed onto the tin shaft once again, pulling myself onto Paro’s windowsill.

“Come in,” she whispered, switching the lights on.

I felt comfortable squatting on her windowsill like a failed Spiderman and grumbled as I walked into her bedroom.

Paro switched her phone’s torchlight off. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“What?” I stared at her retreating figure. “What did I do?”

“Why are you still awake?” she snapped. I followed her to the door.

“Why are you still awake and staring out of your window like Oscar fucking Wilde?” I snapped back.

Paro flipped me off while trying her hardest to pull the gates across the door. Sweat shone on her forehead, her eyes illuminated in the moonlight.

“Hold on, let me help,” I offered, gently grabbing her wrist. Paro grumbled, stepping aside.

I pushed the gate back and pulled it in again, keeping the screw in with my thumb. It glided into the opening on the other side, miraculously not making a single noise.

I turned towards Paro. She was staring at my arms.

“What?” I asked her, incredulously. One moment she said she wanted to kill me, and the next she looked at me like I was something she couldn’t quite wrap her head around.

“N-Nothing,” she gasped. My heart fluttered. Dammit, these butterflies in my stomach had turned into fucking bats at this point.

Paro walked up the stairs while I followed her footsteps in the dark. “Just like the old times, huh?” I heard her say.

I grinned. “Just like the old times.”

Paro opened the door to the roof, the tensed line in her jaw glinting in a sliver of moonlight. God, she was as beautiful as ever.

“Come in,” she said, her words echoing in the marble walls.

I followed her to the railings, leaning against the cool surface. A light breeze rippled through, making her hair fly for a brief second. Dear God, she was poetry herself.

“Where are Auntie and Uncle?” I asked, trying to break the silence.

A light breeze caressed my cheeks. “They won’t be back before tomorrow. Business trip,” Paro explained, edging closer to me.

“Oh.” I was suddenly aware of the pen still tucked behind my ear.

Silence.

“So we’re—we’re all alone, then?” I asked her, hoping she wouldn’t hear the slight quaver in my voice.

Paro nodded. “We are.”

Silence, again.

She leaned against the railing. “You’re going away in three weeks.”

I nodded, not quite knowing what to say.

“I asked you a question.” Her voice was cold and harsh, harsher than I deserved.

“That was a statement,” I snapped. “And don’t use your fucking CEO voice with me.”

Paro frowned. “I’m not.”

“You are.” I glared at her. “And you know it.”

She stared at me, scrutinising my every feature. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s just been—you’ll be gone—and—”

“I know, it’s okay,” I heard myself murmur, edging closer towards her.

“I—I’ve got that Poe book with me,” she said. “Do you want it now or at the graduation party?”

“Now,” I said, without thinking. “The party will be too loud. And too crowded,” I added as an afterthought.

Paro bit her lip so hard I was scared it would bleed. “Alright,” she nodded. “I’ll get it.”

“Okay.”

I watched her retreat into the shadows, taking the white along with her. The night was a pool of blood, again.

Papa had told me that. Maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking of him.

Did Paro know about Jinnah? That Netaji might’ve actually been alive? Did she know that birds came from lizard-hipped dinosaurs? There was so much I had to tell her before I vanished from her mind.

It was pathetic. Scrambling onto every crumb of unrelated information I could find, just to hang onto her thoughts, stay on in her mind for a little while longer.

“I’m back,” Paro said, stepping into the moonlight.

“For you,” she said, handing me the book.

To Renu, it said. Keep me in your mind, always. From, Paro.

I chuckled, flipping through the pages. “Of course I’ll keep you in my mind, Paro,” I laughed. “What a silly thought!”

Paro looked at me, hope faintly glimmering in her eyes. “You will?” Her voice had softened down to a murmur.

I looked at her incredulously. “Well, duh, Paro, I can’t just forget my best friend of thirteen years now, can I?”

Paro’s lower lip trembled. “You promise?”

I smiled. “Always.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

A comfortable silence followed and as we looked at the stars, I knew we were both smiling.

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justamedaordinarywomanbutfunlife · 2 years

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life always changes

hi i am just ameda. ameda (rhymes with anita) for those that do not know how to say it. yes i’m writing in all lower case font. why you ask? well because i’ve always been one that didn’t mind going against the grain as long as it didn’t harm or maim another person. i just now deleted the previous writings i had on here because it only covered a part of my ordinary yet fun life. so lets start at the beginning. people been telling me for years i should write a book. but in the world of technology why do that when i can just give them a free blog to read if they want to know about me right?

so i was born in kentucky and currently reside in minneapolis, minnesota. had a pretty ordinary childhood in my opinion as a lot of childhoods went through the 80s. I experienced life at the very beginning of 1980. so the 80s were my introduction to life. my parents divorced when i was 7 years old. which in the 80s a child having divorced parents was very normal. my mom was the daughter of a coal miner from eastern kentucky. my dad came from a fairly average family out of western kentucky. both of my parents were mixed raced even though they looked white my father is still living and 72 years old. my mom passed away at age 54 unexpectedly in 2014. They both grew up with parents that were inter-racially married. this piece i’m writing is to give you a basic overview of my life. i was an average ordinary student in school. would miss a lot of recesses by 4th grade because i would social with my classmates during class when bored with a subject the teacher was trying to teach us. by middle school i had upped that to being a bit of a class clown and that carried me through high school. i never got suspended or expelled from school but i still acted up. got married 2 weeks after i turned 18. divorced by age 31. remarried again at 33 and left him 3 months after we married him in 2013. that covers the ordinary basic stuff. naturally there are unique stories that happened along the way and even now that i will try to fill in as i remember them. not sure if i can keep them in chronological order but good stories and bad ones are ones that people that know me say i should write down.

so first unique story that comes to mind about my life. both of my parents were musicians but not famous or well known. dad was also a preacher. he didn’t paid like you imagine preachers do. we grew up on welfare. my mom was the youngest of 8 kids but she was a twin. her and her twin brother bobby were the last of my maternal grandparents 2 kids. in 1986 (i was not there when this happened and neither was my parents) my mom’s twin brother, bobby was shot and killed. now i have never gotten the full story of why. family back in eastern kentucky nearly 20 years later said that it was because he was physically assaulting my grandmother in the kitchen and my grandfather couldn’t take it anymore. the other story was that my grandfather and my mom’s twin brother were arguing over a can of beer. my grandfather was an alcoholic. us grandkids grew up knowing this about him but we loved him so much even if he seemed grumpy a lot. you grew to understand that under the grumpiness was a very loving man. either story that you choose to believe about why mom’s brother was shot and killed doesn’t change the fact that my own grandfather purposely shot him at point blank range in a fit of pent of anger over a wayward son. this set off a set of events with my mom. prior to this event i remember things about my mom and my dad (they divorced a year later in 1987) that are like just little puzzle pieces. I remember at my uncle bobby’s funeral (mom’s twin brother) that was the first time i have a vivid memory of mom smoking a cigarette in the lounge area of the funeral home. hey it was 1986 so all the no smoking rules and laws we have now in the united states did not exist back then. i vividly remembering being so shocked to see my mama smoking a cigarette when i knew that was usually something i would see my dad doing. dad also would switch between skoal snuff and twisted type of chewing tobacco. to say my dad was a nicotine lover is not an embellishment. he’s 72 and still enjoys his nicotine.

but it was around this time that mentally and emotionally i noticed my mom just at times just didn’t enjoy life much. she left my dad and chose to leave us with him instead of taking us with her. where she went when she left my dad i do not remember. I vaguely remember being with her at a women’s abuse shelter but can’t remember the details. it was at this time i remember she tried to commit suicide by taking to many pills of some kind. one afternoon i walked in from school to see my dad over her on the bed choking her out of anger that she was trying to commit suicide and her begging him to please kill her. i don't remember if i screamed or what but seeing me standing in the door way got my dad’s attention and he stormed out of the house to go call the ambulance for my mom. i sat stunned and scared by what I had just seen of my dad choking my mom and immediately took up post on my mom’s lap as we waited for dad to return and ambulance. i remember being so scared for my mom but also wondering how in the world could daddy be that mad that he would try to kill my mama! so he walked in and told my mom he had called the ambulance and she was going to go to the hospital. she verbally refused but did not make me get off her lap. my dad ordered me off her lap and for the first time in my 6 years on earth i told my dad NO! the flash of anger i saw come across his face as he heard me refuse a direct order from him was scary to watch. now why he didn’t snatch me off my mom’s lap and spank me hard for disobeying his order i will never know. but i was determined that my body was gonna protect mama from daddy and the bad ambulance people. i had already decided that these strange people dad kept saying was coming was scary bad people like my dad was at this currently moment. so it caught me off guard that my dad was so angry at my mom for trying to kill herself and at me for defying his order that i get off her lap where i thought by me sitting on her lap i would be able to make the EMTs and paramedics not touch my mama. but dad was mad at both of us and he waited outside. when they arrived i noticed a familiar face. it was my 1st grade year best friend across the street’s dad was in the ambulance. i had forgotten he was paramedic. he was also a news paper photographer, a part time police officer and i think he worked part time security at the hospital too. so my dad in his anger let my best friend at the time’s dad come in the house to talk to me and explain things and get me off my mom’s lap so that they could attend to her. his name was ray austin. ray was a 6 and half feet talk black man but a very calm and soothing man to me at that time. all i know was ray was the only one i could and would listen to. they loaded mom up in the ambulance and i think went over to my best friend’s house for the evening. i don’t remember the details after that. later on i remember my dad taking us to the hospital were mom was at and helping her eat the hospital food they would give her. what i didn’t know til after i was a grown adult was that she spent 2 months in the psychiatric unit. i just remember being at best friend’s house, then my aunt wanda’s house (mom’s sister who is a year older than mom and red headed like me) and then my grandparents house and then finally home with daddy. which once i got over the shock of my dad choking my mom (that image has never left my mind even at 42 years old) with my daddy was where i wanted to be more than anything. i was a dadd’s girl. what i didn’t realize at that time was my dad suffered from depression as well but his didn’t get displayed in crying and taking pills to kill himself. his depression was anger. sometimes it was uncontrolled anger. but i still loved my daddy and would often just want to sit on his lap and be held when watching tv or eating. what i do remember is that my dad even with being newly separated and the primary parent of me and my brother he never complained about being stuck with us kid. he never begged family to babysit or treated us like he didn’t want us around. it would be years before i was able to see that he knew mama either couldn’t or wouldn’t show us the love that a child craves from parent and he tried really hard to do that for us. but he had his issues too. ok i will stop there and pick up on another blog entry again soon.

#introduction #life #families #abuse #domestic violent relationships #childhood #kentucky

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intergalacticwanderer · 3 years

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It happened faster than any of them could react.

Overall, things had been going well. The sea monsters were on their last legs, they had the numbers with all of the Mighty Nein present, and it was only a matter of time before they’d come out on the other side. But in combat mere seconds can make all of the difference and one monster slipped through at just the wrong place and time, burying its claws into Kingsley’s back.

He swore, blood bursting from his neck and the monster’s eyes bleeding black, but it wasn't enough, the monster digging the claws in deeper and dragging him off of the ship, two of them going over the rail and into the ocean. He heard someone screaming his name, muffled through the water - and then the claws found his throat, and he didn't hear anything at all.

But something else started to happen.

He didn't know where he was. He knew, at the very least, that he wasn't in the ocean, his surroundings too indistinct and no longer able to feel the water around him. But even with being able to tell where he wasn’t, that still didn’t tell him anything about where he was. In fact, the only source of light Kingsley could see was - himself?

He looked down, startled, and saw that his own form seemed to be made of softly glowing light, a strange in between of tangible and intangible, floating in place. He... he didn’t understand. What was this? Kingsley raised a hand, both confused and awed at the sight.

The fingers began to disintegrate right in front of him.

He recoiled at the sight and the hand - HIS hand - broke apart even further, the once distinct outline now breaking into individual motes of light that slowly drifted away. He scrabbled with his other hand, as if to try and staunch a bleeding wound, but all that did was scatter the remaining bit of light from the hand even faster and he yanked his arm back. To his horror it was happening on other parts of his body as well, chunks carving out and being eaten away, motes continuing to drift, like paper burning into embers, or scattering sea foam, or or or - It felt like he should be hyperventilating. Was he hyperventilating? There wasn’t any sound, he couldn’t tell, could he even-?

Kingsley tried to hold on to his thoughts but they began to disintegrate too, and that realization, the fact that he could feel that happening, sent a bolt of terror through him even greater than the sight of what was happening to his body. He twisted in place, panic rising higher and higher as his body continued to disintegrate, looking for something, anything around him, but. Nothing.

The remaining parts of his legs and tail separated from his torso, stomach now gone, and while it felt like there should have been sound it continued to be completely silent, his thoughts reeling and disoriented as the parts spun away, quickly dissolving and scattering. What was- he couldn’t- who-

Further light scattered and so did his memories. His thoughts. His name. He drifted, motes rising up from near his eyes. Something from eyes. Tears? He didn’t know. Couldn't know. He was small, getting smaller, too small, no stop pleasenoPLEASESTOPNOPLEASE-

Sensation and clarity of thought slammed into him.

Kingsley (Kingsley!) gasped in a breath of air, coughing and shuddering. He was cold. Wet. Someone was holding him, cradling him between arms, one under his shoulders, the other under his knees, and his tail was dangling, limp. He blinked open his eyes. Two faces were directly above him, and there were glimpses of others in his peripheral, just out of direct sight but hovering close. The first face he could see was Fjord, wet hair clinging to his face and breathing heavily. He... he was the one holding him, wasn’t he. The second was Jester, shaking hands hovering over his chest and a faint shimmer fading from the air. He met her eyes.

“Jester...?”

A sharp inhale, and then a laugh, which turned into a heavy, wracking sob, and Jester buried her face into his chest and continued to cry. Others poured in then, crowding close with words of worry and comfort, but Kingsley barely heard them, still too stunned and numb from all that had just happened, and he didn’t react at all.

***

Over the next few days, Kingsley found himself in the company of at least one other member of the Mighty Nein at all times.

Fjord asked him for more advice and assistance around the ship. Jester sought him out even more than normal to ask about drawings, or tattoo ideas, or ship gossip. Caduceus invited him meditate. Caleb and Essek just happened to read their books nearby. Beau dragged him along to sparring practice, his complaints that he didn't even fight hand to hand normally falling on deaf ears. Yasha ended up clinging to him during sleep (though, in that case, he had been the one to initiate at least half of those). And Veth - well, he was pretty sure Veth was just straight up spying on him, but he didn't really begrudge her that.

Usually, Kingsley would have found the hovering his friends were doing to be suffocating, but this time? He sought their company right back, determined to not be alone.

There was no way around it - he had died. Full stop. That would have been bad enough on it's own but of course he had an... interesting relationship with death and revival, and it didn’t escape him that Jester had only started crying once he’d said her name. Like she’d been waiting to hear what his first word would be.

Wondering if that word was going to be “empty.”

He couldn’t tell if that made him feel better or worse. Better because they obviously cared about him, wanted him to be okay and to be the one to come back. Worse, because, well. Last time he’d been the one to come back saying empty. And they had to have gotten that fear from somewhere.

He sighed, pulling the blanket around his shoulders closer as he sat on the deck, watching the bright light of Catha above in the sky. Everyone was out on the deck at that moment, quietly talking after a late night meal and Caleb's dancing lights softly illuminating things along with the moonlight.

The main thing eating at him was the time in between falling into the ocean and the revivify spell, and he shuddered involuntarily at his mind’s word choice. He still didn't understand what that had been, but whatever it was it’d been terrifying, too strange to fall under normal experience and too vivid to “just” be a strange dream. The closest thing he had... his fingers tightened on his blanket. His reoccurring dream- nightmare- memory. Fighting in Cognouza, fighting back against Lucien, breaking free. Drifting away with hundreds of other lights. Drifting...

“Can I ask you all a question?”

Eight other heads turned to him, conversations stopping, and he had to fight to not shrink away. He was the one who’d asked.

“Kind of a morbid one but, wondering about who else has died here. You all know a lot more than me right now.”

He knew of a few past deaths. Glory Run Road. Those in... Cognouza. He wasn’t particularly fond of thinking about any of those from his perspective, however. Better to hear stories from others.

Several of them glanced between each other. Essek was the first to speak up.

“Personally, I have been lucky enough to not require any resurrection magic, and I hope it will remain that way in the future. I believe the same is true for Beauregard?”

Beau nodded. “Yeah. It’s gotten close a couple times but I’ve never actually died. Still kinda shocked at that, honestly.”

“I think I’ve died in a dream? Or maybe it was a vision...?” Yasha said, and when she got multiple confused looks she shrugged. “It was a trial from the Stormlord? I’m not really sure if it counts.”

“Let’s call it an in between,” Kingsley said.

“There’s the time I drowned and came back as a goblin,” Veth said quietly and the mood immediately dropped. She took a long drink from her cup. “And I guess there was also that time in the Happy Fun Ball.”

“Which is why we always check for traps,” Caleb said, giving her a pointed look.

Veth waved a hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Checking blast radius is also important,” Caduceus said, sipping on his cup of tea. “I was too close to an exploding crossbow bolt once,” Caduceus said matter of fact, and Kingsley was gobsmacked at how serene Caduceus was at having literally been blown up. Then again, it was Caduceus, so he shouldn't be that surprised.

Veth bristled. “Hey!”

“Not assigning any blame, just stating what happened,” Caduceus said and he took another sip.

Three people left, and he already knew what the answer could be from two of them. Jester met his eyes and he gave her a little nod. He was okay with them talking about it.

“The only one I’ve had was when we were fighting Lucien,” Jester said, hands resting in her lap. “It happened really fast, but Caduceus got me back up, and Fjord protected both of us. It was still pretty scary, though.”

“I also went down to Lucien, but later in the fight,” Caleb said. Essek looked particularly miserable at the reminder and Caleb gave him a squeeze on the shoulder. “But the Mighty Nein does not leave anyone behind, so I was okay. And the same is true for you,” Caleb said, giving Kingsley a meaningful look and a nod.

Kingsley nodded back, relieved both at the reassurance and the reminder that they never considered him to be the same as Lucien. Sometimes that was enough against the images of them lifeless below him.

(Sometimes.)

Fjord was the last one left, and he downed the rest of his drink before looking Kingsley directly in the eye.

“I died the first time we were attacked by Uk’otoa’s minions.”

Kingsley gave a start. “Wait, really?”

Fjord nodded. “Really.”

“But- that doesn't make sense.” Fjord was the captain and Uk’otoa attacks, those were just- they were just a thing. An annoying and very dangerous thing, sure, but what had happened to him, that was his fault, he hadn't been careful enough, or-

“Kingsley.”

Fjord still held his gaze, not looking away. “What happened the other day is not your fault. If anything, it’s mine.”

“It totally is,” Veth added in and Fjord sighed.

“Regardless, don't blame yourself. I died to just the same thing and it can happen to any of us. And taking care of this problem is why we’re all on the ship right now anyway.”

“Cheers to that,” Beau said, raising her cup in a toast. “I’ve had enough murder fish for my lifetime.”

There was murmured agreement around the group, several others draining their cups and Kingsley staring at the bottom of his when he finished. So that was six. Two thirds of the Mighty Nein had died at least once, himself included, and Fjord even had a similar cause of death to this last time. Definitely not alone. And yet...

“Do you remember anything? From when you died?”

He didn't look up from his cup but he could just imagine the amount of eyes that would be staring at him right now. Whatever, it was already out there.

“A little,” Fjord said. “Mostly just that it was cold, and feeling scared, but...” Fjord’s voice softened and Kingsley looked over at the change in tone. “I also feel like the Wildmother would have been there to catch me. And that’s comforting in its own way.”

Kingsley nodded, mind going back to the scent of a warm sea breeze. Even though he wasn't a follower himself he knew of the comfort that Fjord spoke of.

Which just made him feel even more miserable in that moment.

“So... nothing else? No kind of visions or anything?” No disintegrating and losing everything while completely alone? His voice cracked a little, no longer able to hide his anxiety.

“Nothing in particular.” Fjord frowned. “...are you alright, Kingsley?”

“... not really, no.” He was too worn out to lie at this point and he hunched over, pulling his blanket even tighter.

“Is that what happened to you Kingsley? A vision?” Jester asked.

“Yes? Maybe? I don’t know, vision isn't quite right, but- I don't know.”

“Well, how would you describe it?”

An involuntary shiver ran up his spine. “An experience, I guess? But not a good one, and if anyone ever tried to sell me that kind of ‘experience’ I’d straight up stab them.”

Kingsley went to take a drink before remembering he’d already finished his and he scowled at his empty cup. Caduceus passed over another one without a word and Kingsley murmured a small thanks, taking a long drink to wet his suddenly dry throat.

“I was made out of light or something like that? But-” His throat closed up and he had to loudly clear it to keep going. “I started to disappear. Like I was just a bunch of dandelion fluff and-” he mimed an explosion with his fingers- “poof. Just blowing away. And it wasn't just my body, it was my memories too. I think Jester got me just in time.” It took a moment for him to realize he was shaking.

“C'mere,” Yasha said quietly, moving closer and holding out an arm, Kingsley almost falling into her side and curling close. She held him in her arm and rubbed his shoulder, his shaking slowly subsiding. There was a stunned silence for several moments.

“What the fuck,” Beau breathed out, finally breaking the silence. “That’s so fucked up.”

“And concerning,” Essek said, a curled finger hovering over his mouth. “I have never heard of anything similar, even in death accounts from consecuted individuals. Caduceus?”

“I also have no idea,” Caduceus said, frowning. “Either way, that doesn't sound like how it should go. Not to me at least.”

“Or me,” Veth said, eyes wide. “Dying’s bad enough, that’s- that’s just excessive!”

“This isn’t exactly making me feel better,” Kingsley grumbled. Sure, it was commiserating, but mostly it was just reminding him of how alone he was with what happened.

Yasha squeezed his shoulder. “Well, what would make you feel better?”

“Answers,” Kingsley said without hesitation. “Just... what the hell that was. Or why it happened. Just something.” He curled further into Yasha’s side, his head and tail now the only things peeking out from under the blanket.

“I can research, but it will have to be after the voyage,” Caleb said. “I do not have a personal archive unfortunately.”

“Yet,” Essek added on, giving Caleb a quick smile. “My ability to help is limited but I could still assist with some of this research.”

“And I’ve got the Cobalt Soul stuff of course,” Beau said. “So, definitely a more long term thing but we’ll find out what we can.”

“Thanks guys,” Kingsley said quietly. He wasn’t a fan of the wait but just the chance of answers and the fact they were willing to do it still meant a lot.

All through this Fjord had had a hand on his chin, contemplative, and he looked over at both Jester and Caduceus. “Maybe you two could ask for some godly input? It’s worked before and it shouldn’t hurt at least.”

Caduceus nodded “I say it’d be worth trying out.”

Jester nodded as well. “Yeah! It’d be nice if we could get some answers right away. You want us to give it a shot Kingsley?”

“Please,” he said, latching onto the mention of ‘right away’ and pushing away the small shiver at directly asking the gods for help. That sort of thing was the entire reason he was even alive at all, but even when it was positive the idea of it still freaked him out a little. That didn’t mean he was going to pass up the help however, and he looked at the two of them expectantly.

Jester looked over at Caduceus. “You want me or you to go first?”

Caduceus gestured towards her. “You go ahead.”

“Okay!” Jester said, and Kingsley watched as she brought Sprinkle down from her shoulder and held him in front of her. “Okay Artie, if you’re there, we could really use some answers about what happened to Kingsley, it’d be suuuuper helpful.”

The moment Jester finished speaking Kingsley found himself hit with a sudden wave of tiredness, and as he slipped into sleep at Yasha’s side he saw one last glimpse of Sprinkle’s eyes flashing a brilliant green.

***

The first thing he heard was the quiet shuffling of cards.

He found himself sitting in a room. A tent? The lighting was soft, coming from a few candles scattered around the space and a lantern in the shape of a crescent moon hanging from the ceiling. Colorful cloth was draped from the walls (or was the walls, if the guess about the tent was correct), and while the colors were muted by the low light he saw it was mostly blues and purples, with a splash of red or silver here and there. The sound of shuffling cards came from the back, where a woman sat behind a low table and fanned out a set of cards in front of her, gave a satisfied nod, and shuffled the cards back into the deck, Kingsley catching a brief glimpse of one that said “The Dream” before it disappeared from view.

The woman was wearing a red coat.

She looked up, caught his eye, and smiled. “It has been awhile, has it not?”

Kingsley was unable to speak, heart in his throat but he nodded anyway. He recognized her, would recognize her anywhere, but he had never expected to actually see her again. That dream he’d had in his first day had been precious but fleeting, starting to fade even at the time and he’d resigned himself to never fully knowing what it’d been about. The two parts that had managed to stick with him were the sad angel and the woman in the red coat, and while the angel had been revealed to be Yasha no one had known anything about the woman, and over time he began to wonder if she had been based on an actual person at all. And now here she was.

She placed the deck of cards down on the table and gestured for him to come forward, Kingsley moving up to sit cross legged on a red plush cushion, setting down gingerly and his tail curling up next to him. The fact that he had fallen asleep just before this told him that this should be a dream, but at the same time it felt as if it were something more. Something important. Clasping her hands together on the table she held his gaze, expression serious.

“Normally, I would deliver this kind of message through a reading, to avoid saying too much and to allow ambiguity in the meaning. But what I must say is important enough to be blunt. Your soul is fragile, Kingsley Tealeaf.”

Kingsley swallowed hard. He didn’t know who she was, not really, but absolute truth still rang in her words. “W-what does that mean?”

“In practical terms, returning from death is far more dangerous for you than some of your friends.” She opened up her hands and in between them was a ball of softy glowing light. “If your soul is returned to life quickly enough, as it was this last time, there may not be too many complications. But if you are dead for too long...” At her words the ball of light shuddered and then it scattered just like Kingsley remembered and he flinched back, breathing heavily, having to catch himself on one of his hands as dozens of motes of light rose up around them and then dissipated. She brought her hands back together, looking at him sadly. “I am sorry you had to experience a portion of that. It is not something I would wish on anyone.”

He slowly brought his breathing back under control and righted himself on the cushion, emotions stuck between a giddy rush at the fact that Jester’s intervention seemed to have actually worked and terror at the reminder of what had happened to him. Not to mention that something was wrong with his actual soul itself, so, plenty more potential terror and possible nightmares for him there. But for right now, at least...

“Is there anything I can do to... ‘fix’ my soul? And do you know why it’s like that?”

“For your first question, it will mostly just take time.” She cupped her hands in front of her, smaller motes of light reappearing and coalescing until once again she held a ball of light, and she lifted it up to float above their heads, the space around them now brighter. “The longer it has, the better it will be. It is both as simple and as complicated as that, unfortunately.”

“As for the why...” She spread an arc of cards out on the table with one hand and smoothly flipped them over with a pass from the other, but instead of individual cards it was a picture that continued from one card to the next.

“The journey your soul has gone through is far from normal. In fact, some would say it is astonishing that it exists at all.” She trailed her finger along the edge of the card created artwork, narrating as she did so.

“Your soul began with the sundering of a different soul, life springing from death when none should have been there.” A body pulling itself halfway out of a grave, hands scrabbling on the ground, red eyes shining in the face but also on the body. “This soul fragment may have started as just one piece of a larger whole, but something important happened. It changed. And it grew.” Hands helping the purple tiefling to stand, him walking forward and gaining additional color and vitality with each step. Tattoos, jewelry, vibrant clothes, the gaudiest coat imaginable. A bright and happy smile. “The love and experiences your soul had, both good and bad, allowed it to become a full soul in its own right, separate from where it came from.” Helping out at a circus, performing. Blood flashing along blades and becoming ice in an early taste of combat. Sitting side by side, content, with a certain aasimar. Riding along in a cart with the aasimar and five other individuals, sun low on the horizon. “And then... an end.” Blood stains on snow by a road. A coat placed on a staff, fluttering in the wind. “But not the end.”

A new arc of cards was laid down and revealed below the first, with a new artwork. “The soul that yours originally came from was brought back, and it had forcibly reclaimed your soul.” Four figures standing next to an empty grave, the body of the purple tiefling rising into the air and surrounded by magic. “At first, it seemed that your soul had been subsumed.” The group of five, purple tiefling in the lead, bundled up and trudging through a harsh winter landscape. Bodies left in their wake. “But your soul had become its own, and because of that it could no longer slot neatly into place.” Two tieflings sitting across from each other, one purple, one blue, three tarot cards suspended between them. The purple tiefling standing in front of a circular gate before eight other individuals, many of them from the prior artwork. “Your soul fought back, and it eventually helped to free itself from its prison.” Screaming at those eight from a changed body, nine eye stalks coming from the back. An even more monstrous form, torn in half by its own hands.

One final set of cards was placed. Revealed.

“Your friends then attempted to return your soul. But it failed.” A body lying on the ground, partially covered by the gaudy coat and bisected by a new scar. Eyes closed. “It took a prayer to the Wildmother and her intervention for it to be successful.” The same body, standing, eyes open, the ground now covered in greenery and flowers. “However, your soul did not come out unscathed. Not broken, or missing parts, but... injured.” The body now shown as an outline, filled with glowing light. Light that was rough around the edges, shot through with spiderweb cracks. “The time it was forcibly shoved in with originating soul, and having to separate itself out from it again, was traumatic.” A large pair of hands, each hand holding a source of light, one angry and boiling, the other small and dimmed, but warm. “Still the same soul, but changed by the experience. Needing time to relearn. And to heal.” The purple tiefling sitting in a lush graveyard garden, surrounded by both flowers and friends. Sailing on a ship, hanging from the rigging and hair tossed in the wind.

She pulled back, resting her hands on the table. “Your soul is whole, and your own, but less... stable under stress, as it were. There is no way to know for sure, since it has not happened, but I suspect that if you were brought back after a longer period of death you would be in a similar state as to when you woke in the city, due to the healing your soul would need again. I do know however that your friends would do everything they could to return you from death.”

“They would,” Kingsley said, without even thinking about it. His attention was still stuck on the cards. The artwork, as stylized as it was, captured a certain life to it. It felt... real. Alive. But at the same time, something felt off. Something missing.

“Kingsley.”

He startled, as if released from a spell, and he closed his eyes and let out a long breath. When he opened his eyes again he saw her giving him a concerned look. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I, ah. Thank you?”

Her concern didn’t fade.

“Something about this troubles you.” Not a question. A statement of fact.

“Are there other art cards in that deck?” The words spilled out of him. “I mean, they’re gorgeous, and they worked really well, but, are you sure there’s not more?”

She tilted her head, gaze growing sharp.

“There are if you want there to be.”

Something about the way she said that made him pause. He looked down at the cards again. Three rows.

Three names, he realized.

The last one, Kingsley. Him. His body, his soul, himself. The second, Lucien. Most definitely not him, and she had confirmed that as well with differentiating the souls, even with the strange situation of the shared body and his nightmares. And the first... Mollymauk. A different name, a different life, but according to her, the same body. The same soul. His hand gripped his knee, nails digging in.

His soul was his, and Kingsley would fight anyone who implied otherwise or tried to take that away. He knew from experience, however, that he might not have a choice. His eyes lingered on the second set of cards. Flicked to the first for just a moment.

“... maybe not.”

She inclined her head, and nodded. Her hands hovered over the cards and he made a go ahead gesture, and she scooped them up, one, two, three rows, shuffling them back into the deck.

“I admit, I am not accustomed to speaking of things so plainly,” she said lightly as she shuffled the deck. “Partially due to preference, and partially due to limitations I am often bound to. But a prior... interloper decided to facilitate as a way to make amends.” Kingsley saw a flash of another card, this time with a silver dragon, but it was gone too quickly for him to read the title. “It is difficult to judge the character of one such as him, but he was actually the one to ask for help first.” A small laugh. “Luckily for him, this was something I had wished to do anyway. He simply made it easier.”

Kingsley was almost positive the interloper she spoke of was Artagan, but that just raised even more questions. He’d known coming into this that she was mysterious, and that she had to get her answers from somewhere, but the fact that Artagan had been the one to ask her for help?

Another shiver ran through him, even stronger than the one he had pushed away on the ship. Caduceus and Jester would go to their gods when they needed help. So that meant that if one their gods (or sort-of-god, when it came to Artagan) asked someone else for help, that person was...

“I understand if you can’t answer, but. Who are you?”

The shuffling of the cards stopped.

“Do you want to know that answer?”

She was giving him an out. It was probably even a good idea for him to take it.

“Yes.”

He wasn’t going to take it.

She smiled again and set the now shuffled deck down on the table, drawing the top card and handing it to him. Moon and mirror, with the moon facing him, though with one key difference from the card in Jester’s deck - the crescent moon was strung like a bow.

Kingsley stared at the card, heart hammering in his chest.

“...I’m really sorry, but I have no idea what that means.”

She blinked, taken aback, before noticing his slightly manic grin and she burst out laughing.

“I think you almost believed that yourself for a moment,” the Moonweaver said and she graciously accepted the card when Kingsley handed it back to her, him immediately going and sitting on his hands afterwards to hide their shaking. “Unless you’d still prefer for me to say it out loud?”

“Nope, I’m good,” Kingsley said quickly. He was totally good right now, not panicking at all, nope. He got a raised eyebrow at that response, but her smile was still there as well and she didn’t press him.

Kingsley’s leg bounced as she placed the card back into the deck, having to actively work to keep his breathing steady. On some level, he knew that his perspective on the gods and faith was a bit skewed. Fjord sailed the seas with the Wildmother’s blessing. Caduceus had performed literal miracles with the Wildmother’s help (and, once again, one of those was the entire reason he was even alive at all). Yasha was a full fledged champion of the Stormlord. And proper god or not, Jester was still outright friends with Artagan.

In comparison, his own tentative explorations towards faith and the gods had felt like they didn’t really count. He’d learned about the Moonweaver, and her commandments had resonated with him, so he’d decided to follow them. He didn’t actively worship, or ask for blessings, or go out of his way to do things on her behalf. Instead Kingsley mostly just lived his life, sending a small prayer when it felt right and taking some comfort in the light of the moons. That was it. The big stuff, that was what his friends did. They were the ones who...

He looked around at the rest of the tent again, trying to distract himself. With his new knowledge he saw nods to the Moonweaver throughout, most of the decor having been subtle enough on its own to escape attention the first time around, though, okay, maybe the lantern hanging from the ceiling was a bit on the nose. It was an understated but beautiful space, and just one more reminder that he was talking to a literal actual god right now.

Maybe that hadn’t been the best way to try and distract himself.

Her casual comment of ‘something I had wished to do anyway’ spun over and over again in his head, him trying to figure out what the hell that even meant and dread growing at what it could mean. It didn’t make sense. Why-

“Why me?”

He’d just said that out loud. Fuck.

Kingsley looked back to her and nearly jumped when he realized that she’d been staring at him the entire time, swearing several more times in his head and wondering if he’d just pissed her off. But instead of anger her expression was soft.

“Why not you?”

Whatever he’d expected to hear, it hadn’t been that.

His brain stalled. There were so many things he wanted to say in response. So many things he knew he should NOT say in response. But she hadn’t said anything else yet, simply watching him and her hands resting on the table. He slumped, bringing his hands back to his lap.

“Because I’m not actually who you think I am?”

That got him another raised eyebrow, but this time there was no accompanying smile, and he quickly continued. “I know I’ve met you before, in that dream, but that wasn’t- I wasn’t even me yet. I didn’t know who I was s-so it makes sense that you were there for someone else.” Fuck, he knew this was a bad idea, second guessing the decision of, once again, A LITERAL ACTUAL GOD, but the sour sick fear that had been growing in the background was finally too much for him to ignore.

“Mollymauk, right? You said yourself that he’s where my soul came from and what if I'm just-” His voice cracked, and he hastily scrubbed a tear away from the corner of his eye. “I know he was a follower of yours, and he did a better job than any of the half measures I’ve ever sent your way, so. That’s why not me.” Kingsley couldn’t hold her gaze anymore and he looked down, eyes boring into his lap. “And maybe you were there for me, originally, whoever I was. But I still fucked that up anyway.”

A couple frustrated tears dropped down and landed on the back of his hands, Kingsley feeling like he was about to scream. His soul was HIS. He was Kingsley. He was himself. He knew who he was. He was. He was supposed to know who he was. He...

(Breaking apart. Disintegrating. Motes of light drifting away).

A hand cupped his check and his breath hitched, and then his breathing almost stopped entirely when a gentle kiss was pressed to his forehead.

“Time for that later,” she murmured, and then she was pulling back, tilting his chin up with her hand. She was kneeling in front of him, just a couple feet away and table now gone.

“Yes. Mollymauk is where your soul is from. And yes, my first visit in that dream was to see you, in part because of the sacrifices you had made in Cognouza, and in part because of a life lived in full and prior faith. But there is something important you must understand.” She held his gaze, not looking away. “You are not inferior to Mollymauk. You are not a mistake. And you do not have to fear losing yourself and becoming him, because he has already become you.”

Her hand cupped his check again, and she smiled softly.

“You are Kingsley Tealeaf. And I am so proud of all that you are.”

Mollymauk was... him?

Kingsley swayed in place. He didn’t know whether to cry, or to laugh, or what even to do at all. Instead he just sat there, feeling lightheaded at what had just happened. He wasn’t dead for disrespect. She had actually listened to him. Reassured him. Her. A god.

“I think I need to lie down,” he said weakly.

She gave a small laugh, withdrawing her hand and Kingsley slow motion flopped onto his side, before rolling to his back and staring at the ceiling. There were stars embroidered in the fabric up there. He hadn’t seen that before.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her sitting down next to him, leaning on one of her hands. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” he said. He could almost pick out some constellations in the embroidered stars.

“Good.” She played with one last tarot card in her free hand, just barely visible to him. A sun rising over a grave. Dawn.

Slowly, almost so slow that he missed it at first, the lights in the tent started dim. Eventually the only light left was a faint glow from the crescent moon lantern, and, to his quiet awe, the embroidered stars themselves, silver threads glimmering with magic.

“There are only a few more things left for me to say.”

He tilted his head to look in her direction. Even in the low light he could still see her clearly, and he realized she was actually the final source of light in the space, her white hair and blue skin giving off a faint luminescence.

“If a day comes where things are not fast enough, where others are not able to reach you in time and you cannot remember with your mind, remember with your heart like you did once before. Even when starting over, a home and a family will still be waiting for you.”

She glowed a little brighter, surroundings starting to fade.

“Hopefully, by the time you pass on your soul will be healed enough that you no longer have to worry. But if that is not the case...”

She leaned down, held his face in both of her hands, and placed one last kiss on his forehead.

“I will be there. Shine bright, my little monarch.”

He closed his eyes, for a single blink-

-And opened them to the deck of The Nein Heroez.

“-I told you, I’m not the one who knows. I just sent him along to someone who does, he’ll be fine.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t smite you,” Kingsley croaked and Artagan whirled around, pointing at him.

“See! I told you, he’s fine.”

Jester gasped. “Kingsley!”

“Welcome back,” Yasha murmured, and she gave him a hug with the arm around his shoulder.

“Wait, smite? Who the fuck did you send him to?” Beau said, shooting Artagan a look.

“Well! It looks like my work here is done,” Artagan said, completely ignoring Beau and clapping his hands together. “Just let me know when you need something again Jester, tah!”

He vanished in a swirl of green cloak before Beau could get another word in, and she groaned.

“Ugh. He didn't even do anything himself.”

“Yes he did!” Jester said, and she looked at Kingsley. “... it did work, right?”

“... yeah,” he said, a little dazed, and he reached up to touch his forehead. He was going to need time to process that. A lot of time.

“See! He did do something!”

Fjord gave him a thoughtful look. “Who did he send you to? You seem a little overwhelmed.”

“T-the Moonweaver.”

That got everyone’s attention on him at once. A couple of them blanched.

“... you were not kidding with the smite comment,” Caleb said, eyes a little wide.

Essek looked around at the group and everyone’s expressions. “Being sent to a god is notable, but I feel I am missing some additional context here.”

“We um. Miiight have had a plan where Artie pretended to be the Moonweaver?” Jester said.

“It went badly,” Fjord said bluntly.

“As in dragged off into the sky in chains badly,” Veth added on.

Essek blinked, then shook his head. “I should not even be surprised anymore.”

“I was pretty surprised the first time I heard about it,” Kingsley said, shrugging. “And I only heard about it cause of all the times the ship docked at Rumblecusp. I think you're good.”

Essek gave him a wry grin. “Well. I am glad I am not the only one to hear about things after the fact.”

“You get used to it,” Caduceus said, smiling. “And we’re all here now, so, you don’t have to worry about it this time.”

“True enough,” Kingsley said and he stretched, sitting up straight but still at Yasha’s side.

“What did you learn?” Yasha asked.

“Well... the main thing is she said my soul is. Fragile? And that if I’m dead too long I might forget things again. But she also said it’ll heal after enough time so it’s not all bad?” Her last words to him, about what she would do if it hadn’t healed yet, echoed in the back of his mind.

“It’s still not great though,” Beau said, sitting with her arm resting on a raised knee. “She tell you any way to fix it sooner?”

He shook his head. “She just said it’d take time.” After a second he glanced over to Essek and Caleb. “And I don’t think she meant your kind of stuff. Sorry nerds.”

“Magic cannot fix everything,” Caleb said. “As much as we might want it to.” He was lost in thought for a moment before Essek squeezed his hand, Caleb returning the gesture.

Kingsley took a moment to inhale the ocean air, grounding himself, before fully flopping back against Yasha like a cat and she chuckled, starting to comb her fingers through his hair.

“What else did you guys talk about? You were gone for a while,” Jester said.

Kingsley hesitated.

He didn’t really know why he was hesitating. Maybe he was afraid. Of what, he wasn’t sure, but that fear that had bubbled over while talking to the Moonweaver wasn’t totally gone. And maybe it was the fact that he still didn’t know what to make of things himself yet. But he also remembered the words she’d said towards the end, that even if he forgot, he would still have a family. And a home.

(An even more distant memory. Of him asking for home, and Jester saying yeah, we can go home).

He saw Caduceus watching him out of the corner of his eye, expression knowing, but the cleric didn’t push, and that was what made the decision for him. The Mighty Nein was his family. And they would be there for him no matter what.

“Well,” Kingsley said, pausing for dramatic effect. “To start, she was wearing this red coat...”

He launched into retelling, knowing that he had his family, his home, and that his heart would remember for as long as he would need.

#Critical Role #cr spoilers #Kingsley Tealeaf #Mollymauk Tealeaf #Mollymauk #The Mighty Nein #The Moonweaver #Critical Role fanfiction #my writing #things get better for him don't worry #he just gets mildly traumatized first #AO3 link in reblog

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