Tumgik
#I still like my art history it just gets tedious sometimes
atanx · 1 year
Text
so i want to talk about iwatec again
specifically: why is it underappreciated even though its really good? now, my only 'social media' is tumblr so the posts on this site is all i have to go off of. but it seems like the game is really underrated. It has a
97% score on steam!!
it only has 1220 reviews though so its kinda just that the game isn't played a lot.
i only recently got the game - i think i got it on the 22nd of december and now i have 60+ hours in it oops - and i remember that i was really unsure on the game for a LONG TIME before i bought it. I thought the art looked cool and that the premise is pretty cool, but the title threw me off.
'I Was A Teenage Exocolonist'. firstly, it sounds like one an isekai anime that tend to be quite cringe with Mary Sue protags. i found it odd that the name of the game was like a full sentence and that was part of the reason i didnt buy it for around 2 months. Then there's the word 'exocolonist'. it immediately made me think that the game would represent colonialism in a positive light. thats naturally not the case, but thanks to history classes, the word made me recoil. it's only because steam kept recommending me the game and it then went on sale that i finally caved and completed the purchase that i really absolutely did not regret at all.
i consequently spent days really enthralled, playing 8 hours per day. it's calmed down significantly in the last few days but holy shit the first few lives where you're still figuring everything out are so good. now i think i know the perfect ending for me (except Kom dies but you cant change that WHY) so im basically achievement hunting. the game is still good, but it gets tedious sometimes. i am at 70.9hours of playtime though which is INSANE for a story based game.
well anyway i think the title of the game might be scaring people off. i don't know if maybe advertising is a contributing factor but honestly I've never seen an ad for Hollow Knight and that game is massively popular.
it's probably also because it's a really story focused game. that's not for everyone and thats okay!
32 notes · View notes
cyberxilophone · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
While exploring the Sky Islands, the Rito pair think about their time together in Rito village, the stresses of adulthood, and their bond with each other as they search for a mysterious temple. That unspoken tension comes to its breaking point when they find something else beyond a landmark and things grow out of control… literally.
Even up so high in the sky archipelagos, Teba could still feel the arid air from the Gerudo region brushing up past his face. Maybe Rito weren’t fit for exploring outside of Tabantha, but he was stubborn before being defeatist. With Tulin and his best men guarding the village, no Yiga clansman could ever hope of breaking in. It wasn’t hard—it was tedious and boring. 
He had to turn around every few minutes to check if Kass was still following behind him. Good thing he did, because the bard had gotten enraptured by the sight of yet another Zonai Device. Even with his hulking frame, he was clearly lacking in any kind of warrior sense. Teba was almost tempted to shoot near his feet to startle him for his carelessness, but he simply bit his tongue and stopped in his tracks. “Kass, can you please hurry up?”   
“I’m sorry, but Amali and the kids said they were curious about those devices that fell everywhere. It won’t take more than a second!” Purah Pad in hand—a mass-produced model under Zelda’s approval—Kass snapped a photo of the giant fan. “Truly interesting things, aren’t they? To think that the wind Rito use can be made by simple centrifugal force…”
“Interesting indeed…” Teba sarcastically muttered. “Now hurry up. We have to make sure that we document our findings.”
After a well-deserved rest, Zelda didn’t waste any time. Now the sage of time, she was more determined than ever to chronicle the history of every nook and cranny of Hyrule. She wanted nothing more than to do the exploring on her own, but with reparations for the entire kingdom on her plate, she had to settle for sending out ambassadors and research teams to seek out all shrines, temples, and relics Hyrule could offer.
“Oh, no need to be so methodical about the entire affair, my friend. We’re uncovering ancient art here!” Kass cheered, accordion in hand as his fingers ached to play the instrument. “I know that you’re the elder, but have you lost all whimsy in your life?”
“We’re uncovering it because it needs to be uncovered. The Zonai, the Shiekah, and whoever else lived in Hyrule before us were a bunch of cryptic pranksters. I mean,”—Teba reached for his bow and shot at the Zonai Sentry in the distance before it could activate, making it crumble into pieces just as it started up.—”my ancestors just wrote down information like rational people. None of this riddle nonsense.”
Kass stared at the sentry explode into pieces—aquamarine shards flying through the air with green smoke protruding from the spot the robot perished. “My, you need to work on your anger problems.”
“I don’t have anger problems.” Teba shot another one, sending it careening down to the surface of Hyrule. “I’m just blunt.”
“The ones that have the most problems are the ones that deny it the most. That’s a proverb from—”
“Your teacher, yeah,” Teba grumbled. “I just wanna get done with this so I can return home and be with Saki. She’s probably worried sick…”
“Oh, you know Saki’s a strong woman. She’s probably over the moon that you’re taking some time off from being the elder. If your plumage wasn’t white, I would’ve already assumed that you’ve begun graying!”
Teba started to walk faster in an attempt to avoid a confrontation. Kass’ laugh was usually infectious, but during work, the sound of careless joviality was like hearing nails scrape against a chalkboard.
Why did it have to be him? He’s so… Ugh…
Kass was a carefree man—perhaps too carefree. Most of the men in the village called him insane for leaving out of the blue on a music-seeking trip—Teba included. Amali was the only one that seemed to support his decision, but sometimes, even she wished for him to come back and help take care of the kids. 
However, what he lacked in focus and responsibility he made up with sheer knowledge. The man was a walking encyclopedia of Hyrule’s history when it came to the arts. After The Calamity was dealt with, he had risen from a nameless bard to the head of Hyrule’s art and culture program. Zonai—Shiekah—Gerudo; he could decipher it all and do so twice as fast as Zelda’s head researchers.
Teba would love it if the story ended there, but someone that loved to explore as much as Kass was obviously going to wander into wild territory with the excitement of a dimwitted hatchling, and it frustrated Teba to no end. It wasn’t that he was stupid—he could forgive that at least—but Kass knew the risks, and simply valued the concept of adventuring far more than his own life.
Turning his head back again—half out of habit and half out of genuine concern—he saw Kass leaning down every few steps to stuff some sundellions into his backpack.   
Ignore him. As long as he arrives safely, you won’t need to worry about anything else.
///
A lack of sleep was something that Teba was accustomed to. Even before being chief, he would always sleep with an eye open. Every part of him was attuned to be on the lookout for something as small as the rustling of leaves. Being on the lookout for moblins or aeurocudas was just part of the job, especially when his neighbor was one of the few Rito men that never sought the way of a warrior.
“Ah, what a refreshing bath!” Kass hopped out of the pond, feathers ruffled up as he dried himself.
Teba swallowed harshly, still refusing to turn around and engage with Kass. When they first traveled to this island, he choked when Kass started to undress around the body of water. Why did he even react so strongly? He had gone on long monster-hunting excursions with Harth many times—bathing in nearby waterfalls to get the bokoblin blood off them. He wasn’t an overly hormonal teen Rito, so why?
“Are you sure that you don’t want to dip in? The water up in here is so soothing…”
“No. Too cold for me.” 
“Too cold for a Rito?” Kass asked teasingly. “Color me surprised.”
The sound of the belts and buckles of Kass’ kilt was the sign that Teba could finally turn around and watch. Still, he felt a lump in his throat as he saw Kass without his leather armor—his feathered, naked chest visible and shamelessly displayed. 
Even now, he had trouble understanding someone as combat-aversed as the bard could manage to have such a strong build. He certainly wouldn’t be able to match him in flight, Kass’ muscly frame could probably break him in half. His arms were stocky and thick, sporting definition around his body that helped him haul most of their travel equipment without trouble. 
Teba even remembered hearing about Amali needing to call a tailor to get Kass’ measurements taken since the standard armor for all the Rito no longer fit his burly physique. It was as hilarious as it was jealousy-inducing. He could picture himself during that day—staring off at Kass’ home as he twirled around shirtless as Amali and the tailor stretched the measuring tape around him.
What is up with me?
“And whatever has you so grumpy? We’re just an island away from arriving at the destination the stone tablet spoke of.” 
“Hm?”
Kass jumped off the rock formation near Teba and slid right next to him with a travel mat of his own. “Wanna know something funny, friend?”
With an exasperated sigh, Teba looked at Kass. “What?”
“You remind me of my teacher. He was very grumpy like you, but kind and handsome as well.”  
Kass’ beak curved as Teba felt his cheeks turn red. The bard’s honeyed words lingered in his mind—spoken so kindly that it was as if they were being serenaded to him. Teba’s chest tightened, but he didn’t clench it out of fear of Kass noticing his sudden reaction.
What… What are you DOING to me?!  
“You don’t need to act so stern. He had to step down from his station due to stress.” Kass solemnly glanced at his accordion for just a moment. It was short—less than a second—but his beak trembled as he recalled the memory. “And well, it’d be a shame if you were to end up like Kaneli so soon. I quite enjoy seeing you fly.”
“You can see me? All the way to the flight range?”
“Someone who travels so much has an eye for detail,” Kass explained. “I sometimes station myself on Revali’s Landing, and I can see you from there.”
“Ugh, how embarrassing…”
“Oh, your flight prowess is nothing to be ashamed of.” Kass seemed to return to his normal, composed self, but as soon as it went away, another wry smile painted itself across his beak.  “And by the way, you should either tie your kilt better or invest in some undergarments. Just because you’re all alone in that range doesn’t mean that you’re exempt from decency.”
“I—“ 
Teba fell into silence. His heart pounded with the ferocity of a hammer smashing against his ribcage. He opened his beak, but no words came out. The only sound was the roaring winds of the sky islands and the crickets chirping around them. Their gazes met, and the pounding grew stronger and stronger. Teba felt like his heart was going to explode into a gory mess from how intense the beating was. It echoed through his ears, drowning out his own thoughts. 
That was until Kass broke the silence. He let out a boarish cackle—acute and gravelly, it was the total opposite of his soothing voice. 
“W-what’s so funny!?”
“Your face!” Kass said amidst laughter and gasps for air. “Oh, that was priceless! You’re a sucker for praise, it seems!”
“N-No!” Teba puffed up his cheeks—defenseless against Kass’ teasing that he could only approach it like a child. “Shut up! How was I supposed to know that there’d be someone looking up my kilt!”
“Don’t blame me for having eyes!” Kass defensively said. “Plus, you should thank me for telling you. A less than kind person would’ve told on you to the entire village.”
“I…” Teba squirmed under the weight of his own shame. “Yeah, whatever. Going to sleep now.”
“Sleep well, dear chief~” Kass gazed at him deeply—amber eyes glistening against the moonlight. 
Teba turned around, and while he certainly closed his eyes, slumber didn’t reach him no matter how much he tried. The concept of Kass gazing up at him in voyeuristic glory made his stomach churn with something not too dissimilar to discomfort. It made him nervous, yet at the same time, that same feeling he got whenever he flew up high up. The only time that he ever felt something so potent was when he soared to the skies above Rito Village to face Vah Medoh.
…How can a simple minstrel do something like that? My chest… 
The sound of Kass’ deep snoring broke Teba out of his train of thought. The Rito was sprawled over his travel carpet, drool trailing out of his beak and his accordion resting near him just like how a plush would be held by a hatchling.
“Sleep well, Kass.”
///
“This is it, Teba! This is the spot, I’m sure of it!”
“Huh?”
They had finally arrived on the island detailed on the stone tablet. Atop an island in the Faron Sky Archipelago was an islet distinct from the other land masses coated in yellow leaves, random rock formations, and dilapidated Zonai architecture with nothing inside. The one they found themselves in was a large expanse with a temple just like the ones found in the corners of Hyrule, just a little bit smaller in size. The entrance was in the shape of a giant skull, and in front of it, a stone tablet with a message inscribed upon it.
And yet, with such a striking discovery in front of him, Teba couldn’t help but stare off into the distance. He couldn’t bear to look at Kass anymore; not out of annoyance like earlier, but from the strange stew of feelings simmering inside of him.
“Are you not excited? We’ve been traveling for days to get here!”
“I-I am, I am. It’s just…” Teba swallowed. “Just a lot on my mind. Let me know if you need anything, alright?”
Kass sighed, clearly resigned. “Will do, friend.”
Teba exhaled in relief as he heard the distinct sound of Kass’ accordion startup. The click of the keys and the tone they let out thereafter was like a wave of comfort washing over the Rito chief. How long had he gone without hearing that melody? Kass left just around the time Link woke up, and couldn’t come back to the village during the upheaval… the melody was so much more soothing than how Teba remembered it.
“Humble spirits of the Zonai!” Kass announced with showman-esque candor. “Allow us to access the secrets of this stone tower island at once, please!” He coughed up into his wing before beginning his song.
A hero of draconic heritage, rising up into the skyTo fight a beast that haunts us but what for we do not know whyTake power at the cost of yourself, then let thee fly
The chime of something unlocking traveled through the entire island. Teba brandished his bow just in case a sentry or something even worse was summoned—three arrows are already drawn in his Great Eagle Bow.
“What happened, Kass?!”
“I-I don’t know! A shrine usually appears, but the rumbling isn’t coming from underneath!” Instead, it was coming from deep inside the temple. Something was slowly crawling its way up to the entrance—they could both feel it. “Teba, are you—”
Teba flew at Kass’ side, almost throwing the bard with his rough landing. “Already there.” 
They waited with bated breath as the stone door slowly retracted up. Dust and debris fell as the mechanism jutted the entrance skyward, and just when they braced themselves for something akin to a Silver Lynel covered in Gloom, they saw that what was causing the rumbling was… a Zonai construct gently hovering towards them with something lodged inside its ribcage-esque body.
“Thank the Godesss…” Teba let himself fall to the ground in relief—back against the altar next to the tablet. “I did not have the energy to fight yet another thing tainted with Gloom.”
“I thank you both for freeing me. It appears that I shut down while inside the Stone Tower temple and got trapped inside.” The construct explained. “I possess the reward for unraveling the secret of the temple. The answers were supposed to be hidden inside, but I can detect that the tablet containing the secret fell to the surface. Its current geographical coordinates are -0182, 1171, 0279. I concur that you ended up finding the answer that way.”
 “Y-yes! I suppose that you could be so kind as to grant us that reward! I’d also appreciate it if you could give us some explanation as to what that song is supposed to mean.” Now in his element, the bard spoke with certainty and authority. “My name is Kass, and my associate is Teba.”
“Hello.” That was all Teba said as he stretched to offset the sudden exertion.
“Users ‘Kass’ and ‘Teba’ registered.”  The construct made a loud whirring sound before its eye lit up “As for your reward, here it is.”
Opening up like a drawer, the slot inside the construct revealed a strange charm in the shape of a mask. Besides a few spots of rusted metal, the surface was incredibly reflective—the gleam of the sun shimmering across. 
Kass was about to reach for it when he noticed that the small charm began to vigorously shake. It jerked around as it levitated slightly above the compartment inside the construct. Before he could think about what it meant and if he should reach for it, the charm lunged at his neck.
The bard stumbled back in shock, letting out a high-pitched yelp from the fright. The small bump wasn’t painful, but the chill growing on the back of Kass’ neck only grew as he tried putting the mask charm away. He pulled and pulled, yet the small amulet didn’t move.
“Kass, are you okay?!” Teba asked, hands grasping the bard’s shoulder. “What in the Goddess’ name was that?! Are you hurt?!”
“I… I think I’m fin—” Kass’ stopped himself as a strange buzz surged through his chest. It traveled all the way to his throat, morphing his tone into a warbly, dissonant shrill. “What?! What was tha—”
His chest puffed out forward, stretching the leather armor around the two giant mounds of muscle. Most of the armor got wedged in the space between the two soft, sculpted pectorals. The pressure of the vest against his chest and the sudden growth left Kass speechless, dread crawling down the side of his body like sweat trailing across his frame that left him with an open, hanging beak.
“W-what the…?” Kass gently groped his chest to check if what he felt truly happened. “How did this… What is this, Teba?”
Teba couldn’t provide an answer. The only sound that passed his ears was the ringing of a mind under total sensory assault. Kass’ grown chest drew him in like a moth to a flame. That dormant fascination that had begun to bloom when he threw momentary gazes at the bard inside the hot spring was now exploding all across his body.
What… what is…
His wings reached for Kass’ chest on their own. The more he stared at the Rito’s chest, the more the pounding at his skull continued. He had a wife. He had a kid. He was the chief. He shouldn’t. Why was he doing this?
No. Yes. Should I? I want to… what do I…
Kass’ body swelled up again. His torso grew wider, and his pectorals increased in size yet again. One final bwomph from the growing boulders on his chest for the leather chest piece to give out with an ear-piercing snap. 
“A-ah… I’m not in any pain, at least… but what do I do?” Kass turned to the construct, only to see that it had retreated into its standby mode. He desperately flicked his talon against it, trying to get it to start up. “Come on, come on! What did you give me?!” His pleas were unheard by the inactive robot. Just like discarded Guardians after The Calamity, no matter how hard he tried to force it to spring to life, it remained completely still.
Hot. Teba’s body was hot. He thanked the goddess and every single other entity that lived in the spiritual realm for having a kilt bulky enough to hide his growing erection. Fuck. Okay. This is just involuntary. You’re not doing anything wrong.
“TEBA!” Kass squawked out, feathers tainted with pure liquid stress dripping out of him. “Fix this, o-or at least TRY to do something!” As he said it, that same growth traveled down to his legs. That buzz had evolved into crackling, intense electricity that jutted downwards and forced growth upon his leg muscles. “H-Hylia!” The sudden enlargement forced the kilt up as it stretched around the bard’s hips and legs.
“I-I don’t know what to do! There’s no elixir for this and I don’t have any materials either!”
“WELL THINK ABOUT SOMETHING, YOU FUCKING MOBLIN!”
To hear Kass speak to him so in a manner so barbaric was like being sprayed with ice-cold water. It was like a corrupted imitation of what the bard’s voice usually sounded like. The indignation and craving mixed together in a raving tempest inside his stomach. It felt so wrong, yet so vibrant at the same time.
“Ngh, my body’s so warm…” Kass whined as his legs pulsated once again. He pulled on the bottom of the kilt on impulse, yet it was futile. His cock swayed through the air and from underneath his skirt. Kass let out a guttural, squawk-ish noise as the indecency dawned on him. “No, no! This shouldn’t…” That electricity then continued evolving further. Intense, boiling fervor pulsated through his body. It was like having Amali’s tender hand rubbing all over his body, every single inch of his frame making him feel more alive than ever before. His eyes jerked all over the place, and inevitably, they fell on Teba.
Teba; the strong chief of the Rito—the man that kept them safe—the man that he’d vigorously stare at whenever he dipped into a hot spring. Every single thing that Kass could’ve ever thought about him converged into his mind like violent lightning striking metal.
Something’s wrong… Something’s seriously wrong… Teba… Teba… I shouldn’t be thinking of…
His stomach churned with the sound of old, thick grease boiling inside an old pot. Just like the rest of his body, it began to grow outward. Instead of the deep, rugged muscle consistency around his limbs and chest, his midsection had gained a doughy consistency that jiggled each time his body throbbed with magical energy.
“Kass…”
Teba’s left talon suddenly slipped on empty air, sending him rolling down to a patch of yellow grass. His body bumped against the hard, uneven edges of the roots of the giant tree stump that held the platform. Slight purplish bruises formed underneath his plumage as he laid on the ground with wounded pride. His cock leaked seed underneath him as the giant frame of Kass grew taller and taller, casting a shadow on him with the sun behind him.
Fuck…
Kass heaved with his hand pushing against the pillar. His kilt now wrapped itself around his waist like a belt—covering nothing and leaving his cock flopping around for all to see. His stomach pushed forward, hanging above his waist just slightly, although it hung further with each stage of growth.
“Mmgh… So… Hot…” Kass’ voice—once a harmonizing, lullaby-esque tone—now sounded like the warbled noises of a Moblin. His stomach continued rumbling loudly—a pair of love handles now seated across his side. They spilled out in a muffin top, further obscuring the already overstretched kilt. “Oh, my goodness, mgh… what is going on…?” 
The intense warmth spreading through his body slowly quelled the bard’s thoughts. As his hefty chest rose up and down, he looked at his newfound pudge. Something was calling to him—a fascination that had been unearthed. Such a size was unbefitting of a Rito. They were supposed to be a race of warriors of grace and perfect shape, yet the sensation of heft sagging down from his once pristine body took the breath out of him. It made him feel above the rest of his avian brethren; their bodies were slim and weak compared to the giant, hulking avian he was. 
Biggest… I’m… the biggest… Rito… It was like the mask charm attached to his chest was whispering to him, and the honeyed words felt so right. It was like confirming stray thoughts that he had rejected once before—be it out of cowardice or repression. Just… growing a little bit more… won’t hurt…
His kilt finally snapped against the pressure of his widening thighs. His newfound freedom was like liquid peace washing over him. He emptied out his lungs as he exhaled—gut pushing out slightly. 
While he once stood far smaller than the giant skull structure above the entrance, he now remained just a few meters away from it. The ground shook underneath the weight of his talons slamming against it—cracks forming with each step. 
Teba could do nothing but stare. Was this his fault? Should he have done something to stop this? Could he have done anything at all? Those questions ran through his mind as he got up on his feet. His cock still throbbed, but he just begged that Kass wouldn’t notice it as he climbed back up to the altar. “Kass!” He shouted.
The bard turned around in response, yet that panicked frenzy was no longer there. He smiled back at Teba, beak curving up. His amber eyes were no more—now replaced with grey, ashy pupils that held nothing but uncontrolled fervor behind them. His expression didn’t seem to belong to a distinguished minstrel, but instead to a mindless monster pushed by its bare instincts. The sight of his erect shaft certainly didn’t help either, nor did the fact that he seemingly made no effort of hiding his throbbing manhood. 
“Kass?” Something was amiss. The man gazing back at him wasn’t the same person he had been traveling for days. It was a strange, uncanny corruption of him. A carnal recreation with all the soft corners sanded down. “...We need to go home. We’ll have Zelda fix this.”
“Oh, but why do you want to get home?” Kass’ voice was sly—uncontrollable ego and deceit layering his words. He lumbered towards Teba, kicking the shut-off construct to the side without a thought. “I think we should stay a little longer. Can you humor your old friend?”
Teba’s gaze remained focused on the ground. The temptation to look up at the bard’s swaying shaft was irresistible. Flashes of it passed his gaze every time that his eyes wandered off—pushing his cock up and causing pre to dribble down to the stone tiling underneath.  “...We need to get you some help, alright?” He couldn’t push the act of a fearless chief. Not like this; urges upon urges built upon themselves in his mind, tempting him to do something that he would certainly both regret and love indulging in. “We just wrap some cloth around your waist and then…”
“Oh, but what’s the point of hiding away something so beautiful? Or is that that you’re embarrassed by it, Teba?” Kass cocked his head back, a striking cackle erupting from his throat. “How adorable you are! A small Rito with such big ambitions and demeanor. Do you not indulge yourself often? Is Saki not satisfying those urges coursing through your veins, Teba?”
“No, NO! You shouldn’t…” Teba felt the words getting stuck in his throat. The sight of Kass’ body had made his thoughts evolve into pure temptation—the opposite of his soft-hearted fantasies with Saki. The image of the bard’s hulking, muscular frame with the layer of pudge adorning it inspired nothing but pure, unbridled desire. “W-we can’t, Kass! We can’t!”
“Oh, don’t be silly∼” Kass bent down—gut squishing against itself and rolls pushing in on one another—and reached for Teba. The Rito chief instinctively tried running away from him, but it was futile. Kass swept the avian in his hand—Teba’s body light as a feather in his massive wings—and held him tight. He could feel him struggling, and that just made him look even more adorable. His efforts were charmingly futile, a poor attempt at rejecting their natural desires. “Let’s get you comfortable…”
“Comfortable?!” Teba tried to breathe through the overwhelming stench emanating from Kass’ newfound body mass. The sudden expansion left the bard sweaty—his azure plumage now turned sticky and matted. The stench was intoxicating—like a potent liquor turned into a gas. “How can you be comfortable… being so big?! Y-you shouldn’t… We shouldn’t…”
“Oh, you’re so adorable∼” Kass gently brushed one of his winged fingers underneath Teba’s leather chest piece. The garment gave out almost immediately—revealing the chief’s white-feathered torso. “Oh, my∼ Are your nipples hard, Teba? Is there something particular that’s catching your attention?”
By now, Teba knew that talking was a Sisyphean endeavor. He continuously tried to thrash out of Kass’ grip—an act with no fruit to bear. Looking down, the temple and the island that carried it seemed so small that it was almost wholly obscured by the clouds. He didn’t know if his struggle to breathe was from Kass’ strength—the altitude—or the pulsating arousal making his cock throb.
“Mghah… Kass… Don’t…”
But the bard didn’t listen. He ripped Teba’s kilt with one single pull, letting Teba’s cock spring out freely—small drops of pre sprayed across the minstrel’s hand. “So pent up… Has Saki been neglecting your needs? You poor thing∼” He pressed one of his fingers against the tip of Teba’s cock—an indignant whine squeaked out as a result.
Those slight flicks against his dick were like hundreds of volts passing through Teba’s body. He had never been manhandled so thoroughly before. No matter what he did, he was at the complete mercy of Kass, and that rotten, depraved part of his mind took that pleasure with full acceptance. All he had to do was lean back and let the bard do his work. He need not be commanding—all that was expected of him was to lean his head back and fester in Kass’ embrace.
“Fuck, Kass… Don’t stop…”
“Oh, I won’t as long as you keep serenading me with those adorable moans of yours…” Kass lifted his hand up to get a closer look at Teba. A warm, red flush had spread around the chief’s cheeks. Underneath the tatters of his outfit, Teba’s cock throbbed as it begged for more stimulation. “And what do you seek most, little songbird?” 
“Mmgh, fuck, Kass! I don’t know… just… I want you…” 
“Good boy∼” Kass giggled—a deep, rumbling laugh that echoed across the sky. “I’ve seen you staring at me. Such a desperate man… I’m gonna give you what you want∼” Picking Teba up, he gently hovered his hand downwards. “I do hope that you have some good lungs, Teba.”
“H-huh?”
Lifting one of his love handles, he pushed Teba between the two chunks of flab. Before the Rito chief could let out a protesting scream, Kass pushed him deep inside. From the chill that passed around that area of his body—the sky’s strong winds brushing against his sweaty folds—he knew that he wouldn’t be completely suffocating Teba. The small, weak pushes he felt certainly let him know that he was still plenty awake.
“Ngh, Dammit!” Every breath that Teba took was like breathing the raw essence of Kass’ sweaty frame. He pushed against the flab both above and underneath him, talons and wings trying to fight against the gelatinous mass that threatened to bury him. The more he fought—the sweat that he shed—the stench; it all built up to his growing arousal. The helplessness enthralled his brain as the temptation to give up once again crawled up his spine. “Kass… Mgh, fuck… I love you, FUCK!”
Kass giggled. “Oh, I’m sure you do. And we’re gonna have a lot of fun…” The sun rose up above Kass—further making him sweat as he continued growing. The temple had been smashed quite some time ago under the weight of his gigantic rump—now a speck so small that he didn’t even feel it. “Now, keep struggling for me… because I’m gonna make you into a new man∼”  
4 notes · View notes
forfuckssakejim · 8 months
Text
Was going through my drive and found a paper? I wrote for my creative writing class two years ago. on the topic of "who inspires you to write" and i just sat and re read it??? and wow.
I got an A+ on it, and i remember my professor being in awe of it (as also with everything else I had written) and just.
it really struck a cord.
And i know I get a lot of asks about how i started writing. why i write. and i feel like this really just, hits home on that fact.
i was trying something new with my writing style, so its a tad weird.
I’m 5 years old, and reading is a thing I enjoy. Instead of playing during recess, I sit and read instead.  The words are a calming lullaby to anxiety in my veins, and I read and read and read; books that are way too old for me. I dream and imagine and escape to far off places. Worlds filled with magic and royalty, of adventure and history. 
I’m 7 years old and I’m a witch. I write and play in my own land of make believe where my words are a spell I cast upon the world all around me. I laugh and read and study too, and pen my own stories filled with magic and adventure. I wrote a story once, in a grade I can’t remember. I’m sure it was first, and Mrs. O was my teacher. We had to write a story, be it anything we like. I chose to write about a leprechaun who couldn’t help but seek out trouble wherever he may go. There was a plot that I remember not, but of a journey to be made. I looked upon the tattered map and declared “From California out to Maine”. I don’t remember what I wrote, or what names I chose to use, but my writing was amazing, at least that's what Mrs. O said. It was placed upon the Hall of Art, displayed for all to see. Was it by the library or the entranceway? Perhaps somewhere in between. People stopped occasionally to read it while they waited. 
I’m 10 years old and we moved to another town. It’s a brand new house and streets without a sidewalk and a much too long driveway. We built a shed in the backyard, and behind it where I made my castle. Using stones and bricks, I made it all my own. I play in the backyard and I have a dog now. He’s my favorite thing to write about. I still read, and read, and read. My friends sometimes wonder what is wrong with me. But I enjoy a good ol’ book compared to anything, so I read and write and make my own escape from real life. Mythology is my favorite, and I read about the gods and how the Ancient Romans and Greeks interpreted life around them. 
I’m 14 and discover that there are other people like me. People who like to write about established works and make their own twists and turns and type it out and share it with the world. I didn’t start out good. My thoughts were messy and jumbled and never seemed to flow quite right. A raging river and rocks all around, and me in my little boat without a paddle. 
And so I write. I write and write and write. Until my fingers ache and my brain is fried. I’m 26 now, and still writing. Over a decade of my life filled with wonderful stories I’ve created and shared. 100’s of thousands of words spanning a decade and a half of my life that I’ve put out into the universe.
I’m often asked if anyone inspired me to write, I think of my mom first, of the poems she wrote in high school. She encouraged my writing but she never was really an inspiration. And I wonder does inspiration even have to come from a physically tangible person? Do conversations with gods count? Does reading and wondering about origins of mythology and how it feels reading them that the gods themselves are speaking with me? What about the stars? They tell stories in formations, in words and patterns that other people may find tedious to decipher. The challenges in my life that I face, when I step back and re-examine from a different point. Taking words and strings of letters and forming new structures to fit the same narrative? Inspiration is not people and I'm the smartass Diogenes that holds up a featherless chicken and declares it a man to the annoyed Plato who declared man was not but a featherless biped. Writing and storytelling is such an innate part of who we are as humans, since our early ancestors passed down oral stories before words were even written upon a medium. And how were they inspired if they were those who created it? There had to be a source, the world around them shaping and forming a story that begs to be told. They looked to the stars and the world around them for bedtime stories. To write and to want to create is what makes us who we are at the core of our species. 
4 notes · View notes
dimiclaudeblaigan · 1 year
Note
I like Engage, but I’m so tired 3Hs being made out to be this unplayable mess for shit other games did before it. No weapon triangle? Gaiden. Big maps? FE4 Hub world between maps? That had been getting bigger with each game. Rewind? Echoes. Breaking the game open? Every fucking game has that one unit or skill and it’s a choice; no one put a gun to your head. You don’t have to LTC a map and actually play it as intended. If it ain’t about part 1 being tedious on replays and the graphics, stfu. Ugh
Oops, I forgot to add that Fates did the the route split and Echoes had combat arts first. The map reuse in 3Hs is pretty bad too even with the story reasons trying to justify it so that criticism is valid.
People are just looking for poor excuses to hate on Houses now because there's a new game out.
Did Awakening have a weapon triangle, or even Fates? I don't recall them having it.
FE8 also did the route split and nobody hated it for that so lol.
I'm probably the only person around who prefers weapon durability but I do (also something not new to Engage as far as not having it lol). I'd rather have the money I need for what I want/need rather than no durability on my weapons and suffering for money. FE4 had a perfect balance because all weapons have 50 uses and could be repaired, so even though weapon choice was limited, the amount of money you could get overall per unit wasn't even that bad and you also had plenty of use out of your weapons. Not all, but most staves also had fifty uses.
For some reason FE9 said lolzies at Armorslayers and gave it 18 uses instead of just rounding it off to 20 lmao. Still bugs me to this day.
Personally yeah I hate the graphics for Houses, but that's more on the team that worked on it and less regarding the actual game itself. The content within the game is still great and it doesn't make me want to play it less. Typically I can ignore the backgrounds easily enough - it's just the anti-aliasing not being present that makes the models look bad close up. Hopes had that problem very very mildly but they definitely fixed it quite a lot in comparison.
I also like Engage, it's just not a top favorite of mine. I do like the characters for the most part, but I way prefer Houses' cast. The gameplay is fine, but I find it... oddly tedious sometimes? If Houses had a problem with being tedious, Engage isn't any better lol. FE4's hub world was perfectly sized imo and made it extremely easy to navigate everything you wanted to do, and you could also return to it within the chapter and go back to the arena or buy different weapons as you pleased. Also, even though every character has their own money, you still get plenty more money in FE4 than in Engage lol. It's also crazy to me going from Engage to FE9/PoR because PoR pays you for being a mercenary which is a perfect tie in to the story, so you get paid per chapter.
I break the Tellius games open with Oscar. :) :') He's the best unit in all of FE history and I don't take criticism. :))) :DDD
Houses is nowhere near an unplayable mess and neither is Engage. If people really didn't enjoy it that much, they shouldn't have continued to play it and just dropped it. Personally I found Houses to be more interesting on the map because you could zoom in and see the map outside of a grid view. Engage's camera pisses me off lol.
If Houses is an unplayable mess, then my name is FE5 Escape Map Where You Only Escaped With the Main Character and Nobody Else, Thinking Your Army Would Be Right Behind You Like In FE9, Except You Were Wrong and Now You Only Have One Unit For the Next Map. My last name is Unfortunately the Game Gives You Zero Indication That You Have to Actually Escape the Map With All Your Units So Frankly If You Saved Over That File After Escaping Without the Rest of Your Units Before Realizing This Then You're Fucked and Have To Restart Your Entire Fucking Game.
All that only to have to restart the hardest game in the series. :) :')
1 note · View note
georgiasadventure · 9 months
Text
Welcome to the Blog
Hi I am Georgia (She/Her) and I am here to shout my ideas and sometimes advertise my other works into the Tumblr Void.
I write, I draw, heck sometimes I animate if I am feeling up to it.
When I write, I post to Wattpad. Why not AO3? Because I have never felt the need to switch platforms and I like to make custom covers for my fics. I have considered cross posting on the two sites though. But for now just on Wattpad. I will post one-shots independently here though.
I also have a Youtube but I am very inconstant on there. I basically did a channel rest a couple of months back and have only posted my return video since (which was a couple of moths ago now jezz.) I am trying to get better though, but 1 my life is not very interesting, 2 animation is tedious and fandom is controversial (my family watches these videos okay), 3 editing is not always the greatest, and 4 when school starts back; I am too tired to do anything else.
Fandoms
MCYT (mostly Empires & Hermitcraft ngl)
Countryhumans (we all have that dark horse don’t we)
Pokemon (still have not finished the gen 9 games)
I think it should be noted that I am a shipper, specifically a multi-shipper (aka I may have two ships for one person (character.) You have been warned. Also the ships are mostly gay/lesbian.
Other Interest
Writing
(Mostly) Digital Drawing
Animation (something I rarely do)
History (Specifically World History)
Band (I play the Clarinet, go ahead & boo me)
Japan (culture, pop culture, history; no I don’t know why)
Astronomy (not as much as I used to like it but I still like the night sky, moon, planets, stars, & galaxies)
OC in case you want to draw arts
She can shapeshifter between her feline & human form.
(Coming soon, Still have to drawn her)
0 notes
plantsandpupper · 4 years
Text
I really dislike
word or sentence requirements. like if I use a big word or long detailed sentences then those should count as more. I feel like those minimums hinder my writing. so often through my education we are taught to write succinctly, which is beneficial during standardized testing, and yet now im just trying to fill word counts (*insert eye roll emoji*). art history is kinda bad about that I feel. they want this long winded and drawn out over analysis of an image but the reality is sometimes they were just horny and those were the only colors they had with them to paint with, like it doesn't always have to be this big thing. 
5 notes · View notes
maxenceandrebisset · 2 years
Note
5’2,I have dark long hair ,wide black eyes and plump lips .Lot of people say I have beautiful eyebrows
Besides watching F1 I love watching comedy and reading about art history. I am really bad at sports and I don’t really watch them except for car racing.Thought I think ice hockey is damn sexy lmao
I would like to find a job in financial area and I have been working hard to make it come true
I support Red Bull and I am crazy about races like l don’t really accept any outcome but winning.
My therapist said I am aggressive,compassionate ,insightful and a big softie. I love to joke around and I always hide my emotions behind a chilled attitude. People think I am boyish but I count myself as a feminist.I can easily get people to open up to me and I love to help them. Most of the times I go with the PEOPLE WATCHING MODE and try mind reading.
I am competitive as fuck and I suffer from depression and anxiety. I hardly reveal my heart to anyone . I am also messy and get easily frustrated with little things like house chores.
In relationship I am insecure and I need someone to consistently tell me how much he loves me. I tend to give a cold shoulder to people I care about and all I wanna do is to make others happy. I am fun to be with and I support my bf 100 percent.
I want someone who is bright as sunshine ,strong as rock,confident as hell and accept me for who I am.we can laugh together and talk about deep stuffs.he gets me blush all the time.we are lovers and buddies.He must be patient cuz any time people yell at me I get heart broken and shut down my emotions.we are gonna live in metropolis in a penthouse and raise a dog named Ace together.
Alright, alright, alright... You are another lucky soul at which I am nearly 100% sure with whom I would match you. Plus you caught my attention with the "ice hockey is sexy" - we appreciate and manifest all ice hockey lovers in this household.
Tumblr media
MAX VERSTAPPEN
So, at first, I wasn't sure if I didn't just create mayhem by putting two aggressive and incredibly passionate human beings together, many people say that two same or very similar people don't work out well together in a relationship, but after a while of thinking, I came to a conclusion that an individual would probably suffer more with Max if they were the phlegmatic and admirably peaceful type - this way you can at least be pissed off together right?
-> Simply said, smaller evil.
- I think that with the way you just described yourself - aggressive, headstrong, but at the same time a softie, who likes to joke around and hide the real emotions under the bold attitude - everyone can describe even Max and be terrifyingly accurate.
- I mean, he is hothead, there is no doubt about that, sometimes he can come off as aggressive when he can't hold his frustration in, but just like Danny, who has been his teammate for a decent while and knows him more than well, said on numerous occasions, Max is actually a softie as well, positive when around people he loves, someone who has a great sense of humor, and in my mind, there is nothing better than when you can relate to your significant other in the relationship, especially on this level
- I believe that both of you need 100% support from each other, genuine understanding and empathetic gestures from someone else, and that both of you would be capable of being 100% serious and passionate about the relationship and motivating each other after the, maybe tedious, opening up and trust-building phase, which would probably happen while the two of you would still be friends, not partners yet
- if you were there for him on the racetrack, then I don't doubt, he would be just as supportive in whatever direction you would decide to go profession-wise, including standing up for you and defending you as your partner if needed during any possible occasion
Tumblr media
- Of course, I think that there would also be the times when you would probably argue and give a cold shoulder to each other, but because you would both do it, it wouldn't hurt your relationship as much as if only one of you constantly did that
- I can honestly imagine him bringing you, more as his best buddy than his girlfriend, to the private jet onboard parties with Danny while traveling to races, where all of you would be drinking like crazy and then the next second he would be completely dead so you would just laugh your ass off with Daniel about that and gossip on him like Max's two BFFs
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Sorry, I fucking had to put this photo here
- Then, of course, Red Bull lover + Red Bull driver = la perfection - probably even Horner would like that kind of girlfriend in the garage so he could compete with Toto when it comes to the level of passion in the team (surpassing Toto slamming a table is not that easy)
- Your specific description of your future shared life cracked me up, but I think that he would probably allow you to have a dog if you really wanted to
Tumblr media
I hope you are not disappointed with whom I matched you.
39 notes · View notes
Text
Look, Louts! Lilies! - Yuri For A Hope-Flung Present and Hopeful Future
Look, I’ll be frank. I typically try to keep to a more formal tone when I write for this blog. I’m not in a formal mood. It is June October 2020, and I, like the rest of you, have been under quarantine for a little over three almost seven months now due to the Covid-19 virus. Throw in a eensy, teensy bit of massive political movements and change in response to police violence and racism, and an increase of police violence and racism in response to those movements, and I think it’s fair to say it’s been a tumultuous couple of months. Except, strangely, it also hasn’t been, because so much of this time has been characterized by ennui and isolation. Stressful, yet soul-numbing. In short, it’s been a very weird place to be in.
So, we’ve all found our different ways to cope. My sister’s way has been getting really into succulents(?), and my way has been buying digital manga and video games. I’ve finished stuff I’ve put off for literal years and bought stuff I had heard was good but wasn’t that hyped to get into. And somehow, the one thing I’ve really gotten into has been yuri? 
Now, yuri has a very long and rich history, as well as its own sets of conventions and nuances, so it is with a great, great, GREAT deal of respect that I say that I’m going to simplify it for this essay as “Japanese media with a particular focus on romance between women” for brevity’s sake. If you want to know more, there’s actually quite a lot that’s been written about it in English, but I’m aiming this essay at English-speakers who have had at least a little experience with yuri and more than just passing knowledge.
Because you see, I’ve found that yuri fans have a lot of things to say about yuri! And a lot of those things really bug me!! “Yuri is only fetish quasi-porn written by men,” “yuri is only bland wholesome fluff,” “yuri is only high school drama,” so on, so on. It made me mad, but it also made me realize something: a lot of people simply must not know how big this field of lilies truly is! How else can we get people saying “yuri is oversexualized” and “yuri is sexless” as gospel truth? Something’s not adding up here, guys!
So, all that is to say I’m doing something different for this blog: I’m writing up a recommendation list of yuri. A large chunk of it will be stuff I’ve read and can officially give my seal of approval to, while some of them are just titles I’ve heard of that I think will interest others. All of them have been specifically chosen to counter common untrue things I’ve heard about yuri as a whole. I hope you can find at least a few things on this list that you will enjoy and help you keep your head as the encroaching darkness lurches yet a few inches closer!
1. “Yuri is all schoolgirl stuff! Where’s the sci-fi, the period pieces, the action, the fantasy?”
Tumblr media
Otherside Picnic
What It Is: A light novel series written by Iori Miyazawa (illustrated by shirakaba). Ongoing, four volumes at time of writing. The story is being adapted into a manga by Eita Mizuno, and an anime adaptation directed by Takuya Satou will be airing in January 2021.
What It’s About: It was on her third trip to the Otherside that Sorawo Kamikoshi almost died, and it was on that same trip she was saved by an angel. Toriko Nishina is a beautiful and confident young woman who also happens to have intimate knowledge of the Otherside, a dangerous yet captivating world that Sorawo can’t help but being drawn to. Toriko convinces Sorawo to join her on her expeditions to the Otherside, fighting off bizarre creatures that have somehow been ripped out of Japanese urban legends and finding strange artifacts in order to make a little extra cash-- all the while keeping an eye out for someone dear to Toriko’s heart.
What I Think: Otherside Picnic is heavily inspired by the novel Roadside Picnic by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky and features several creatures and scenarios from ghost stories, net lore, and-- there’s no other way to put this-- creepypasta. On paper this sounds deeply unoriginal, so it’s pretty surprising that OP has an incredibly strong identity. The idea of fusing horror with a yuri love story excited me enough the moment I heard about it, so when I finally got to read it for myself, I was delighted to find that the horror elements and the romance elements are both quite strong. 
I will say that thanks to the author’s commitment to following his sources of inspiration to the letter sometimes causes him to undercut his own writing (good example: in one arc there’s an ominous train that keeps being mentioned, causing the reader to dread its arrival with each passing page, but seeing what’s on the train will inevitably fall flat in comparison to the reader’s imagination), but those moments are made up by the more original moments-- the things that are left unseen and unexplained.
The place where the story truly shines is the relationship between the two leads. Sorawo and Toriko are great characters, both incredibly charming and deeply flawed, and they achieve a great chemistry with each other right off the bat. Sorawo is a very interesting protagonist, one who turns out to have a deeply tragic past that has made her into a reclusive, somewhat selfish young woman. What’s great is that Toriko, vivacious and confident, everything Sorawo isn’t, accepts this part of her, in a way. Toriko flat out admits she’s not looking for a particularly virtuous person to accompany her, but an “accomplice.” A big part of the appeal of OP is seeing these two “accomplices” bounce off each other, and eventually come to care about each other, all playing against a background of some genuinely spine-crawling horror. Otherside Picnic is a truly underrated series, and I deeply hope that the anime adaption next year will finally get it all the eyes it deserves (menacing phrasing very much intended).
Where To Get It: The light novels are published by J-Novel Club and can be found via various digital platforms and bookstores. The manga will be published by Square Enix Books starting May 2021. The anime will start airing on January 4th, 2021.
Tumblr media
Goodbye My Rose Garden
What It Is: A manga by Dr. Pepperco. Three volumes, complete. It inspired a stage play that ran for a while in Japan, but not much information is available about it in English. 
What It’s About: Hanako has two goals: to meet Victor Franks, the mysterious author who pens the books she adores, and to become a writer herself. Despite having the mettle to travel to England on her own to pursue her dreams, she soons finds that it’s difficult for a young, unwed Japanese woman to dream in 20th century London. However, her luck seems to turn around when she meets Alice Douglas, a noblewoman who offers her a job as her maid-- as well as a surprisingly warm friendship. Alice even offers Hanako a way to meet her idol… but at the price of a horrifying request.
What I Think: In the afterword of Volume 1, Dr. Pepperco openly admits that Goodbye, My Rose Garden was the result of them trying to marry all of their favorite tropes (“Victorian maids! Loads of frills! An English family manor!” are some standout items), and this is apparent in the best way possible. GMRG is a lush period piece that will likely appeal to fans of movies like The Handmaiden and Portrait Of A Lady On Fire, with loving attention paid to details like clothes and settings. 
The relationship between Alice and Hanako is quite charming, with Alice supporting Hanako as much as she can while still taking every available opportunity to tease her, while Hanako constantly surprises Alice each time she shows her moxie and strength. It’s an adorable, sweet dynamic, yet a dark, melancholy weight lurks in the background in the form of Alice’s request-- in short, it’s a relationship that feels tailor made for me. Still, I believe this “darkness” never threatens to overwhelm the story, only enhance it in such a way that the reader will soldier on, hoping for a happy ending for our two leads. With an engaging plot and gorgeous art, this is a great manga for both longtime yuri fans and newcomers looking for an introduction to the world of yuri.
Where To Get It: Seven Seas Entertainment has translated the first two volumes, with the final one coming to English soon all three volumes into English.
Tumblr media
Seabed
What It Is: A visual novel by paleontology, a Japanese doujin circle.
What It’s About: Mizuno Sachiko is a designer who is haunted by visions of Takako, her vivacious childhood friend and former lover. Narasaki Hibiki is a psychiatrist who wants to help Sachiko make sense of these hallucinations. Takako is… confused, trying to figure out why she keeps losing her memory and why she and Sachiko drifted apart despite being so close. Seabed is a story that spans the pasts and presents of these three women as they attempt to find and understand the truth.
What I Think: At first glance, Seabed seems simple, but it’s a bit of a hard story to explain. In a way, there isn’t much to explain-- it’s a very slow, down-to-earth story that gets almost tedious at times. I think it would be a hard sell to someone who isn’t used to visual novels, but I could imagine it being challenging even for fans. All I’ll say is this: if you give Seabed a chance, it will draw you into a surreal, gentle, melancholy tale akin to slowly sinking beneath the water of a strange, yet not unfriendly sea. For its simplicity, it’s got quite a few surprises in its long, long runtime, and any attempt to explain further will just ruin an experience that’s meant to wash over the reader over time. The only thing I’ll say is the one thing I think everyone knows: the climax will make you cry.
Where To Get It: Seabed is published in English through Fruitbat Factory and is available on Steam, Itch.io, and Nintendo Switch.
Tumblr media
SHWD
What It Is: A manga by Sono. Ongoing.
What It’s About: Sawada is one of the few women working for the Special Hazardous Waste Disposal, and the only one in her office. But that changes when the stunningly-strong yet staggeringly-sweet Koga is hired, and the two become close in no time. Sawada trains Koga and soon the two go on their first mission to dispose of the “hazardous waste” left after a recent war… the dangerous, organic anti-human weapons known as the Dynamis.
What I Think: SHWD opens with several close-ups of Sawada’s arm muscles as she works out. I have found that page alone is sometimes enough to convince someone to read SHWD, and if not, pictures of Sawada and-- especially-- Koga are often enough to do the job. In all seriousness, what I love about SHWD can be summarized by something Sono said in an interview about the manga:
‘The first motivating force was "I want to write a yuri manga featuring strong women." I was very drawn to strong female characters by watching "PERSON of INTEREST" and "Assassin's Creed Odyssey." However, I felt that I should differentiate myself by doing something other than a "strong woman" and "weak woman" dynamic. So, I thought about coupling women with different types of strength. This is why all of the SHWD main characters are "strong women."’
It’s a mindset I love a lot. Koga is remarkably strong in a physical sense, but her mental fortitude is fragile due to her past experiences with the Dynamis, and as such, it’s Sawada who uses her immense mental strength to support her. Indeed, every character in SHWD so far bears intense trauma born of the Dynamis in some way, and it’s hard to see how their pasts still hurt them in the present. But that just makes it satisfying to see these women come together to support one another. SHWD drew me in with a unique and often dark action-oriented story with horror elements, but it’s this idea of “strong women” who make up for each other’s weaknesses that really makes it dear to me. 
Also, it can’t be stated enough that Sono is so so so so so (etc) good at drawing muscular women. 
On a completely unrelated note, there’s a side story about Koga and Sawada playing sports together. This includes judo. I am saying this for no reason.
Where To Get It: The English translation of the manga is released in chapters by Lilyka Manga.
Tumblr media
Sexiled: My Sexist Party Leader Kicked Me Out, So I Teamed Up With a Mythical Sorceress!
What It Is: A two volume light novel series by Ameko Kaeruda, illustrated by Kazutomo Miya. Possibly complete.
What It’s About: Tanya Artemiciov is an absurdly talented Mage. So why the hell was she kicked out of her adventuring party? Her leader and former friend sums it up in four words: “You’re a woman, Tanya.” In a fit of rage, Tanya channels her anger into a “venting” session that involves swearing her head of and casting a volley of Explosion spells into the wasteland… and accidentally releases a legendary sorceress! Luckily, Laplace is actually quite nice, and just as powerful as the legends say, so the two decide to team up so Tanya can have her revenge!
What I Think: So, this is a silly one, but after a couple of darker entries I think it’s a good palate cleanser. Sexiled is a loud, not-even-remotely subtle, unabashedly feminist take on the “power fantasy” light novel, especially the “revenge fantasy” subgenre-- and even if that sounds awesome on paper to you (ex. me), it will probably feel over-the-top at times to you (ex. me). But in a way, that’s actually kind of its charm. 
I like that Kaeruda utterly refuses to let up on what she wants to tell you, especially because the story was inspired by a real case in Japan. One may be tempted to think “this story is ridiculous, no one would ever be this cartoonishly sexist!” and then you read a news article about how in a famous Japanese medical university was found rigging the test scores of women, and you realize, “oh, people are still this cartoonishly sexist.” So I’m fine with Kaeruda letting it all out in this story. At the same time, I think Sexiled is best when it’s focused not on Tanya’s revenge but on her kindness, and the way her compassion, her strength, and yes, her anger inspires the women and girls around her. 
Tumblr media
Sexiled is a fun and often very funny romp about assholes getting theirs, with some surprisingly deep and nuanced moments hiding in a very unsubtle story.
Where To Get It: The light novels are published by J-Novel Club and can be found via various digital platforms and bookstores.
BONUS: Other titles with sci-fi/fantasy/action elements that may interest you!
The Blank Of Describer: A one-shot manga by kkzt about a pair of two dream-builders. They’ve taken all kinds of commissions in the past, but one job they recieve throws them for a loop: a request for a shinigami that can predict and report death. And then comes the kicker: the customer asks the two of them to give it features that the both of them “adore the most…” (Published in English by Lilyka Manga)
A Lily Blooms In Another World: A light novel by Ameko Kaeruda (illustrated by Shio Sakura), author of Sexiled, about Miyako, a Japanese wage slave reincarnated into another world based on her favorite otome game. However, she’s not interested in her would-be love interest, but in Fuuka Hamilton-- the game’s villainess! After Miyako confesses her love, Fuuka decides to give her a challenge: if Miyako can make her say the words “I’m happy” in fourteen days, she’ll stay by her side! (Published in English through J-Novel Club, available on various platforms)
Superwomen In Love: An ongoing manga by sometime about the sentai villainess Honey Trap and her infatuation with the masked superheroine Rapid Rabbit. After being kicked out of her evil organization, Honey Trap decides to team up with her former nemesis to fight evil-- and hopefully, find romance! (To be published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment, coming in April 2021)
2. “Yuri is all stories about teenagers! Where’s the stuff about adults?”
Take a look at the previous section: there’s the stuff about adults! Otherside Picnic, Goodbye My Rose Garden, Seabed, SHWD, Sexiled, The Blank of Describer, A Lily Blooms In Another World, and Superwomen In Love are all stories with adult-aged protagonists! But if you’re searching for a more down-to-earth romance, I’m happy to report there’s quite a bit of options to look into!
Tumblr media
Still Sick
What It Is: A manga by Akashi. Three volumes, complete.
What It’s About: Makoto Shimizu is an office lady with a secret: she’s a yuri fan who draws doujinshi. She’s able to keep her two lives separate, all until the day she comes face-to-face with her co-worker at a convention! To Makoto’s horror, Akane Maekawa is amused by her nerdy secret, but Akane may have some secrets of her own...
What I Think: This one was a roller coaster for me: I loved the premise of the manga, but wasn’t sure about the dynamic between the leads… that is, until near the end of the first volume, where something happened and everything changed. Without giving too much away, I implore people to give Still Sick a chance-- it has a much deeper story than one might initially guess, as well as an interesting character dynamic between the two leads with some surprising turns.
Where To Get It: The first two volumes of Still Sick are published in English by Tokyopop, with the final one coming soon All three volumes have been published in English by Tokyopop.
Tumblr media
After Hours
What It Is: A manga by Yuhta Nishio. Three volumes, complete.
What It’s About: After being ditched by her friend at a club, Emi Ashiana is ready to write the whole night off. All that changes when she meets Kei, a DJ who seems to be everything Emi is not-- cool, confident… employed.... But Kei and Emi hit it off and Emi’s life changes as Kei draws her into the world of Japan’s club scene!
What I Think: It’s hard to explain exactly why I like this manga, but I reeeeally like this manga. 
Tumblr media
There’s just something about the sleek art, the amazing atmosphere of the scenes set in nightclubs, the chemistry between Emi and Kei, the focus on more mature topics.... it’s a manga that’s remarkably magnetic for how down-to-earth it is. It’s also just interesting to read stories about subcultures that don’t normally get a spotlight in comics. To sum it up, After Hours is just a lovely manga that’s severely underrated that’s perfect for someone who’s looking for a story that’s both fun and mature.
Where To Get It: All three volumes are published in English by Viz Media.
Tumblr media
How Do We Relationship?
What It Is: A manga by Tamifull. Ongoing, five volumes at time of writing.
What It’s About: Miwa and Saeko’s first meeting is… interesting. But despite that, and despite their clashing personalities, the two of them become fast friends. Well… actually, perhaps more than friends. You see, pretty soon the two of them learn that the other is into women. With that in mind, Saeko suggests they try dating each other-- might as well, right? “Might as well” seems like a strange place to begin a relationship, but perhaps even something like that could end in true love?
What I Think: “Why do romances always end when they decide to start dating?!” That’s the question Tamifull poses in the afterword of Volume 1. And it’s a great question! What makes How Do We Relationship? an interesting manga is how oddly realistic it is, highlighting things like the compromises people make in relationships, people who get into relationships for pragmatic reasons rather than love, the whole “thing” about sex… as well as highlighting the additional issues queer people have to deal with. That may sound like a heavy story, but it’s actually quite light-hearted, as well as very, very funny at times. With a cute art style and surprisingly deep premise, HDWR is a great manga for older yuri fans who are craving a more mature story.
Where To Get It: The first volume has been published in English by Viz Media, with more on the way.
BONUS: Other titles with adult protagonists that may interest you!
Even Though We’re Adults: A manga by Takako Shimura about two women in their thirties. Ayano and Akari meet each other in a bar and almost immediately feel a sense of chemistry between them. There’s just one problem: Ayano is married to someone else. (To be published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment, coming in January 2021)
Doughnuts Under A Crescent Moon: A manga by Shio Usui. Uno Hinako wants nothing more than to be seen as a normal young woman, but she just can’t seem to make a “normal” romance work. But maybe Sato Asahi, a woman who works at the same company as her, can show her a new kind of normal? (To be published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment, coming in February 2021)
Our Teachers Are Dating: A manga by Pikachi Ohi. Hayama Asuka is a gym teacher, Terano Saki is a biology teacher. One day, they come into work both looking suspiciously happy… because they’ve started dating! (Published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment)
I Married My Best Friend To Shut My Parents Up: A one-volume manga by Kodama Naoko. Morimoto is sick and tired about constantly being badgered about finding a man to marry, so her kouhai from her high school days offers a solution: marry each other to make her parents back off! (Published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment)
Now Loading…!: A one-volume manga by Mikan Uji. Takagi has just snagged her dream job at a games publisher, but being put in charge of a mobile game that’s barely pulling in any attention isn’t exactly what she was hoping for. What’s worse, she’s drawn the attention of her strict higher-up Sakurazuki Kaori… who also happened to design her most favorite game of all time?! (Published in English through Seven Seas Entertainment)
3.  “Yuri is all schoolgirl stuff! Where’s- wait, didn’t we already do this one?”
Yes we did. And you know what? I’m making a stand! There’s a lot of really, really good yuri stories set in high schools, and I think more people need to give them a chance! Here are some high school titles that I think are worth a second look for one reason or another!
Tumblr media
Bloom Into You
What It Is: A manga by Nakatani Nio. Eight volumes, complete. A twelve episode anime aired in 2018, covering about the first half of the series. A three volume spinoff light novel series written by Hitoma Iruma was also published.
What It’s About: Yuu Koito has long dreamed of the day she’d find That One, Storybook Romance that would make her feel like she was walking on air, but the day that a boy confesses to her, her feet remain firmly planted on the ground. When she meets Touko Nanami, a girl who seems to have the same strange, distant relationship to romance as she does, Yuu feels like she has found a comrade. But what will happen when the next person to confess to Yuu… is Touko?
What I Think: What can I say about Bloom Into You that hasn’t already been said? There’s a reason it’s basically considered a staple of yuri despite being only five years old. The art is beautiful and delicate, the story has a deft mastery of comedy, drama, and romance, and the characters are deeply loveable. Really, the only reason this one is here is to tell you to get to reading this manga (or watching the anime) if you haven’t already. So get to it!
Where To Get It: The entire series-- as well as the spinoff light novel series Regarding Saeki Sayaka-- has been published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment. The anime is currently streaming on HiDive.
Tumblr media
Yuri Is My Job
What It Is: A manga by Miman. Ongoing, seven volumes at time of writing.
What It’s About: Hime wants nothing more than to be adored by everyone and to someday bag a rich husband. Of course, being loved by all takes a lot of work, and she prides herself in keeping her perfect, adorable facade so well-maintained. But of course, the one time she slips up, she ends up injuring the manager of a local cafe! Hime finds herself strong-armed into working for this cafe under their star employee, a kind, graceful girl named Mitsuki. But things aren’t quite so simple-- you see, this cafe has a gimmick in which all the employees are constantly acting out yuri-inspired scenes for the customers, so in a way, the employees also have their own facades. And under her facade, Mitsuki… hates Hime’s guts!
What I Think: Yuri Is My Job is an odd duck, but in a good way. It’s advertised and initially framed as a comedy, but it becomes a surprisingly thoughtful drama about the personas people adopt and why they do so (though, luckily, the comedy never truly goes away). There’s an interesting web of relationships between the girls, and having those interactions take place in a setting where they must act out a completely different sort of drama adds an extra level of drama and intrigue. The cute, polished artwork is just the icing on the cake. YIMJ is a good manga for those who are already familiar with yuri tropes and those who are interested in a drama that doesn’t get too heavy.
Where To Get It: Six volumes have been published in English by Kodansha comics, with the seventh on the way.
Tumblr media
Riddle Story of Devil
What It Is: A manga written by Yun Kouga and illustrated by Sunao Minakata. Five volumes, complete. A 12 episode anime aired in 2014.
What It’s About: At Myojo Private School, an elite all-girl’s academy, Class Black has a secret. Twelve of the thirteen girls are actually assassins who have been offered a dark deal-- one wish will be granted to whoever manages to kill Haru Ichinose, the thirteenth student. But there’s still hope for Haru in the form of Tokaku Azuma, one of the assassins who has decided to defect to Haru’s side-- and defend her from the other girls at any cost.
What I Think: I’m not sure… if I can say Riddle Story of Devil is “good.” It’s definitely something. Although its premise is vaguely similar to Revolutionary Girl Utena, its tone and atmosphere remind me a lot more of the Dangan Ronpa series. It’s schlocky and ridiculous and often over-the-top and at times exploitative. It’s pure junk food, basically… and I believe that’s where the charm comes from. It’s my guiltiest of guilty pleasures. It may not exactly be good, but more often than not, it’s fun. It’s hard not to be immediately interested in a yuri battle series, you have to admit. 
And if it does have one undeniably good element, it’s Tokaku and Haru’s relationship. They contrast each other nicely, and while one might expect Haru to be boring and helpless, she’s actually quite proactive at times, and some of the most interesting, engaging parts of the series come from seeing how the two work together to fend off the latest assassin. It’s a short read and if anything, it’s worth it to see how each girl ends up. I recommend it for older viewers who are okay with violence and ludicrous battle scenarios.
Where To Get It: All five volumes are available through Seven Seas Entertainment. The anime can be watched through Funimation.*
*Please don’t watch the anime.**
** At the very least, please don’t watch the anime unless you’ve read the entire manga. Riddle Story Of Devil was one of those unfortunate cases where the anime adaption was produced before the manga reached its conclusion, and as such it has a very strange, rushed ending that includes none of what I enjoyed about the actual ending. Several scenes were also changed, and if I recall correctly, fanservice was added in several places where there was none previously. All in all, I’d really only recommend it for big fans of the series.
Tumblr media
Side By Side Dreamers
What It Is: A light novel by Iori Miyazawa, illustrated by Akane Malbeni. One volume, complete.
What It’s About: Saya Hokage has been suffering from insomnia, but one day finds relief in the form of Hitsuji Konparu, a strange girl who can put people to sleep. As it turns out, Hitsuji is a person who has the special ability to move freely in their dreams, known as a “Sleepwalker.” The Sleepwalkers have been battling beings that possess people through their dreams, and it turns out they want Saya to join them in the fight.
What I Think: Side By Side Dreamers is short and… well, dreamy. I really enjoyed the premise and I think it’s a good novel for people who think Otherside Picnic may be a little too much for them. I also enjoyed each dream sequence-- I tend to find that the writing in light novels is a little dry, so the use of figurative language to describe these scenes was really refreshing and interesting. SBSD is a fun oneshot that I think is especially ideal for newcomers to yuri.
Where To Get It: Side-by-Side Dreamers is published by J-Novel Club and can be found via various digital platforms and bookstores.
Tumblr media
Cocoon Entwined
What It Is: A manga by Yuriko Hara. Three volumes, ongoing.
What It’s About: Hoshimiya Girls' Academy is a strange, almost otherworldly paradise with a peculiar tradition. For all three years, each girl grows out her hair to absurd, breathtaking lengths, in order for it to eventually be cut and weaved into uniforms for future students. Perhaps it is these strange uniforms that seem to whisper about the past that makes the school seem frozen in another time… picturesque, yet stagnant. But one day, a shocking incident shatters the quiet peace of the academy, and the tumultuous feelings that have long been hidden in the hearts of these girls come rushing into the light.
What I Think: Cocoon Entwined is, in a word, eerie. It’s not marketed as a horror story, and I don’t think it’s intended to be one, but I’ve seen some that say they get horror vibes from it. I definitely understand that-- there’s a deep sense of unease that permeates the entire story in a way that’s a bit hard to articulate. The running thread of uniforms made from human hair definitely doesn’t hurt (it does-- I’ve seen many people understandably turned off by this element), but it’s more than that. It’s the sense that everything at Hoshimiya feels frozen and fragile. It’s the sense that everyone is burying their true feelings under countless layers. It’s the fact that in one scene, Saeki reaches out in a dark room full of uniforms and feels her arm touched by countless hands made of hair. 
Tumblr media
Cocoon Entwined is a strange manga, and I feel it’s not for everyone-- besides the way many are put off by the central premise, the way that the story jumps around in time can be a bit confusing to follow. But in my opinion, I love it for these elements: the uniforms and their marriage between beauty and grotesque, the sense of frozen time, the delicate artwork that feels like it might be shattered by the weight of your gaze, the strange, airless atmosphere, the girls and their clear exhaustion of having to be ideal women. It’s a strange little series that I think should be given a shot, particularly if you want something a little more out there, or a darker take on Class S tropes.
Where To Get It: Yen Press has currently published two volumes in English.
BONUS: Other high school titles that may interest you!
A Tropical Fish Yearns For Snow: A manga by Makoto Hagino. Konatsu Amano has just moved to a new town by the sea, and must deal with her new school’s mandatory club policy. Luckily, she meets Koyuki Honami, an older girl who runs the Aquarium Club. Recognizing her loneliness, Konatsu decides to join her club. (Published  in English by Viz Media)
Flowers: A four-part series of visual novels published by Innocent Grey. Flowers focuses on Saint Angraecum Academy, a private high school that prides itself on overseeing the growth of proper young ladies. One notable thing about the academy is the Amitié program, a system that pairs students together in order to foster friendships between the girls. But friendship isn’t the only thing blooming… (Available in English from Steam, J-List, and JAST USA)
Adachi And Shimamura: A series of light novels written by Hitoma Iruma and illustrated by Non that has recently received a manga adaptation and an anime adaption. Adachi and Shimamura are two girls who encounter each other one day while cutting class. Little by little, the two girls become a part of each other’s lives, and feelings begin to form. (The light novels are published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment, the anime is licensed by Funimation)
And there we go! 24 different yuri titles. I didn’t even go into the series that I tried but personally didn’t like that still might interest other people. I primarily made this list to gush about yuri that I liked, but I also tried to include a fairly wide range of things so that, hopefully, any random person who read this whole list could find at least one new title that interests them. And I hope that includes you!
The yuri scene is quite large and wonderful if you know where to look, and it too often gets a bad rap. I hope that this list could give you a new perspective on what kinds of titles are available, and I hope it gives you something new to try. And remember: if you want something specific, try looking for it! There’s a good chance the story you’re craving is already out there, waiting to be discovered!
521 notes · View notes
yurimother · 4 years
Text
LGBTQ Game Review - A Summer’s End – Hong Kong 1986
Tumblr media
Before diving into the meat of Oracle and Bone’s A Summer’s End, I want to talk about the women behind this game Tida Kietsungden, and Charissa So. So and Kietsungden have done nothing but impress me since the announcement of A Summer’s End. They have repeatedly demonstrated their immense effort and dedication to creating a beautiful and thoughtful experience. Through conversations with the studio and reading their blog entries, I gained a remarkable understanding of how this game is both a tribute to classic cinema and a love letter to the Yuri and LGBT community. Through careful research and thoughtful expression, the two women navigate and acknowledge complicated issues, including Asian LGBTQ history and Hong Kong’s delicate political situation with grace and maturity. I am in complete awe of both women and their work. However, regardless of my profound respect for these creators, I still endeavor to offer my unfiltered thoughts on the visual novel, giving praise and criticism where appropriate.
Tumblr media
A Summer’s End – Hong Kong 1986 is a Yuri visual novel set, as you may have figured out, in Hong Kong in the year 1986. The game follows a young office worker, Michelle (Fong Ha) Cheung, who has a chance encounter with a free-spirited woman named Sam (Ka Yan) Wong. Both women feel drawn to each other, and the game explores this mutual attraction and the budding relationship which emerges from it.
Tumblr media
This plot follows the standard girl meets girl story that has permeated the Yuri genre for the past several decades. Like most Yuri stories, the older and more experienced woman, Sam, is rebellious and beautiful, with long dark hair and a dominating persona. Michelle, although far more naive in the ways of love, breaks the trend of this trope by being the more sullen of the two. I would have liked to see the game diverge a bit more from the standard story of the genre. Fortunately, A Summer’s End is a romance story between adults who do not work together, setting it apart from the norms. It even includes a coming out section that creates a more robust LGBT identity than any tale of temporary schoolgirl love.
Tumblr media
The story is well put together and well presented. The story is told primarily from Michelle’s perspective. It mostly takes place over a few days, during which Michelle engages in a whirlwind romance with Sam. This story features the struggle between her feelings and passion and her devotion to tradition and her mother. The progression of her affection is unrealistically fast. The story feels a bit rushed, and many of the societal and personal quagmires the game stumbles upon are not sufficiently developed or confronted. Had the game indulged in a more prolonged and tumultuous struggle for Michelle, conclusions would have felt much sweeter, and the story would have gone from good to great.
Even with this massive missed opportunity, there are plenty of exemplary moments and aspects of the narrative. The game pulls no punches addressing Michelle’s slightly overbearing mother and the conflict between the two. It would have been incredibly simple to take the easy route on this one. Still, the developers stuck to their guns and manage to explore a challenging situation satisfyingly, all while keeping the characters realistic and sympathetic. In fact, every scene relating to LGBT rights and history is flawlessly executed.
There are also some fantastic chapters, including a thrilling but refreshing bike ride and a flashback scene that recontextualizes certain events from another perspective. The many references and allusions to classic cinema including some older lesbian films and plenty of Asian works, are particularly noteworthy. However, the best part of A Summer’s End by far is the setting.
Tumblr media
The location and time period is intrinsic to Sam and Michelle’s tale, as it is shaped by and reflects contemporary culture and LGBTQ rights. Oracle and Bone create a vibrant and lively world, a jaw-dropping depiction of Hong Kong in the 1980s. Everything helps feed into the creation of this world, including a fantastic and retro UI, small touches such as a Cantonese subway announcement, and objects encountered like a disposable camera help convey a strong sense of the period. However, the soundtrack sells it more than any other element, save perhaps the artwork, transporting the player to the era. While a few tracks are the standard easy listening affairs one expects from visual novels, there are tons of excellent city pop and disco beats, complete with plenty of synths and confidence! Finally, a visual novel soundtrack that contributes more than just background noise!
Tumblr media
Sadly, the game’s dialogue choice system and branching paths are far more of a hindrance than a help. I can honestly say that the game would play better and be way more enjoyable as a kinetic novel. Most choices feel inconsequential, changing nothing of the story and resulting in almost the exact same response from other characters yet, they have a hidden points system. If you do not earn enough points, parts of the optional adult content will be unplayable until one goes back to find the right choice. I spent several hours replaying, and eventually skipping through, the game to unlock all the scenes, and finally gave up with one CG left unseen. The only choice with any actual effect is painfully evident in its consequences. One option leads to the bad ending, which is well written, but no reasonable player would go down that path unless they just wanted to see the whole game. The second unveils the true good ending, which no player in their right mind would not pursue, as again, the choice is obvious and adds nothing to the game. There is no reason to put in an alternative ending or tedious dialogue choice.
The characters in A Summer’s End are well constructed. Sam is adventurous without being obnoxious and has a mature though appropriately unrefined demeanor. Michelle is extremely curt and somewhat distant, although she displays a sharp wit and more timid nature on occasion. Both women participate in engaging, deep, and thoughtful discussions, often with each other, although sometimes internally, and thus feel well developed and complex. Unfortunately, their chemistry, while not absent, is not enough to sell the whirlwind romance. There is insufficient expression of their feelings and attractions, both internally or through dialogue and actions, so their inevitable closeness feels unearned.
Tumblr media
However, even in the short game, both characters change with each other, especially Michelle, as she becomes more affectionate, confident, and caring. She begins to embody some of Sam’s warmness while never losing herself. Some of my favorite dialogue and interaction came from her towards the end of the game, although I will not spoil it. Additionally, side characters have a strong presence thanks to their firmly established characteristics and a profound effect on the narrative. Each has their own sprite and mannerisms, helping cement them as fixtures in A Summer’s End rather than tacked on assets.
Tumblr media
The visual novel contains optional adult content, which is installed in an extra patch and can be toggled on and off. I played through the game with and without it and can happily report that the story is just as fulfilling and complete without it. Although the unlockable nature of these scenes is aggravating, they are very well written and sensual without being exploitative. There were moments I did not care for as much, such as Sam getting carried away at one point, but it felt very realistic and incredibly sensual. The artwork in these sexual encounters is some of the best in the game, embracing darker colors and showcasing intense desire.
Tumblr media
Speaking of the artwork, it is stupendous. The game is bright and striking, with amazing backgrounds complete with luminous neon signs, glaring televisions, and life and activity oozing from every corner. The backgrounds are so beautiful and detailed they could effectively serve in place of CG art, although there is plenty of that asides. The character models and designs are similarly excellent, with expressive poses and faces. The various outfits, of which the game has many, embody iconic 80’s fashion. Artist Tida Kietsungden draws both the characters and CGs with a distinctive hand-drawn style, which allows them to play well off each other and add to the beautiful presentation. The detail and care that went into the aesthetics are enormous and elevate the game at every moment. 
Tumblr media
A Summer’s End – Hong Kong 1986 is a vibrant and intimate experience. The fantastic setting and flawless artwork surround a compelling and thoughtful story about lesbian love and desire, societal expectations, and the bonds between family and lovers. It is rough around the edges, with a slightly rushed story that leaves little time to wallow in complexity and an awful dialogue system. However, it will win players over with its striking presentation and sophisticated subject matter. I look forward to more from this studio and highly recommend you check this game out!
Ratings: Story – 7 Characters – 6 Art – 10 Music – 8 LGBTQ – 8 Sexual Content – 3 (8 with patch) Final – 7
Purchase A Summer’s End on Steam and itch.io, available April 23
Consider supporting Yuri news, reviews, and content on the YuriMother Patreon
2K notes · View notes
Note
(sees another fandom that I can ask you about and cheers) Orphan Black! Thoughts? I don't know Dr Who but Tatiana is one of my favorite actors period.
Anon you are so sweet! I'm always happy to chat about fandoms and characters and whatnot, and I will never not appreciate the majesty of Tatiana's acting. That is one of the greatest parts of the show hands down.
Orphan Black, to me, is a show that had incredible potential, but didn't really live up to the excitement it created. (Loooong post ahead.)
The thing is, Orphan Black builds a chilling mystery and background, the world it gradually creates as it goes for about the first two seasons, got be very invested and made me wonder a lot about where it was going to go and what the answers were. The setup is brilliant, right from the start with that iconic cold open of Beth's suicide. The unknown is what really helped this show get as thrilling as it was, because the actual answers behind the unknown were kind of hit and miss, and it seemed like far too often, the show just wasn't interested in telling it's story. Hijinks where the clones impersonate each other in slice of life events? That's fun at first and it really works well as they're still getting to know each other. But after a while, it gets tedious, and it seems like the show would rather fuck around and have dance parties (seriously, that scene was such a #BigLippedAlligatorMoment) than focus on the story and the threat that the sisters are facing. Virtually all of Allison's plotlines are like this, they feel like they belong in a different show, and for some reason the writers insisted on giving her one of these storylines like, every season. After Allison passively murders her own friend out of suspecting that she's spying on her, I just don't feel like an arc about her running for some PTA office position even matters. It doesn't feel right.
Speaking of that, here's another example: Donnie. Why did the end of the first season suggest that he was this secret mastermind working for Leekie? The whole idea just deflates in Season 2 and doesn't really go anywhere. He just goes back to being the bumbling sweetheart he was before. Why even have him be the spy? Maybe it should have been Ainsley. Do you want to know the exact moment that I think Orphan Black went wrong? Like, the specific scene? When Leekie was killed off. The character who had thus far been the Big Bad, gets taken out in the stupidest possible way, a literal accident on Donnie's part, and it's even played for laughs. After that point, the show really struggled to regain it's footing, though I don't think it completely went off the rails until about Season 4, and it was still generally hit or miss. Like, some stuff was really good. The introduction of the Castor clones, the development of Rachel's character (I'll get to her, trust me.) and the reveal of Kendall Malone. But it seemed like so much else was just forgotten or otherwise not resolved. Whatever happened to Cal? Sure, the show wanted to focus on the sisters...but Kira deserves to know her father if she wants to. That's just one example. It's a crying shame because this show is sometimes incredible. The metaphor that I always use for situations like this, is a card game. The show has all the right cards in its hand, they're just not being played.
The two strongest characters, at least to me, were Rachel and Helena. One of these characters was superbly written and went through a devastating arc. The other was Helena. We need to talk about her. In Season 1, she really cemented herself as a memorable presence with her trademark accent, her scars, her whole damn personality (again, hats off to Tatiana) and of course, that iconic screechy theme music that accompanied her. Which at first made us jump, but eventually made us cheer. I adored Helena, and I loved the development of her relationship with Sarah. Who went from shooting her in Season 1, to being deadset on rescuring her in Season 3, being furious with Siobhan for betraying her. (This is unrelated but Siobhan has the same " twist villain fakeout" at the end of Season 1 that Donnie does, and it's quite frustrating.) And yet, I swear, the writers just didn't know what to do with Helena half the time. They put her on a bus for long stretches, including one point where she just up and leaves Allison's house in Season 4, for no given reason. And the characters just kind of...don't care. The same thing happens when she gets arrested. No one cares to try and find Helena, even though she's unstable and often a danger to those around her. Even though she's by herself with no real ability to function in society. Even though she's pregnant. There is no excuse for this, and no Sarah, that "I'm sorry, I avoided you" scene in Season 5 is not going to cut it. It's such an afterthought.
I'm being rather critical, but I hope you can tell that this is from a point of passion. I genuinely enjoyed this show and getting to watch it. Just that sometimes it didn't feel like the show cared that I was watching. However, this was not true whenever Rachel was onscreen. Look, I'm a Merula Snyde stan, so you can probably already guess how I feel about Rachel. Despite her crimes, despite her constant slipping back the dark side, I felt so bad for Rachel at the end of it all. That scene with Kira really sums it up. "Who hurt you?" "All of them." And no scene is more intense than when she stabs out the eye cam. Like, I'm sorry, I pitied Rachel pretty much from Season 2 on. Her parents were horrible to her, and I'm supposed to think Ethan is the good guy here? He kills himself in front of his own daughter, telling her that she doesn't deserve him. And then Sarah shoots a pencil through her eye, causing brain damage and requiring a long recovery. I'm not saying that Sarah was wrong to do what she did, just that if I were in her shoes, I'd still feel a degree of guilt for Rachel's condition. In the end, I'm devastated that she was barred from Clone Club, when she made the right decision at the point it mattered. But there's just too much history there, and Sarah won't ever forgive her. (Though again, I do feel as though there's blame to share.) Rachel is my favorite character and I never expected her to be. But she's just so complex. Side note: "Enjoy your oophorectomy" is so damn quotable. I don't know why but I love that line.
So, Rachel's my favorite. Who's my least favorite? It might surprise you. It's Delphine. I'm sorry, but I just...I couldn't get on board with C*phine. Not after Season 3. I was waiting for the point that the show would push to finally redeem Delphine for her turncoat role, for all of the hell that she put Cosima through. By Season 5 though? I realized that as far as the writers were concerned? She already was redeemed. Even though she did nothing to earn it, except be presumed dead by Cosima. The way she treats Cosima in Season 3 is actually disgusting. Her reasoning for breaking up with Cosima is circular. She has to love "all the clones" in order to be with Cosima, and the way to do that is to take over Rachel's job, which means they can't date anymore? I'm not the only one who thought that didn't make sense, right? Oh and let's talk about how she stalks Cosima's date, breaks into her house, and threatens her life. Red. Flags. Cosima even says the line, "If you're not going to be with me, just let me go." I'm sorry, that should not be something she has to beg for. Delphine's behavior made me want her to stay far, far away from Cosima. Who is, incidentally, a sweetie and I absolutely adore her. I legit have trouble remembering that Tatiana's playing her because she just looks and acts so different. That said, even though I immensely disliked Delphine, I am so very glad that they made one of the clones gay. Just like I'm glad that they made one of them trans. (Though...Tony wasn't handled especially well.)
In general, I do think the earlier seasons were stronger. The Brightborn arc, while interesting, didn't really contribute much to the overarching narrative. We got the backstory on Beth's suicide and finally learned the truth about her, I suppose. Still, even though Beth is one of my favorite of the clones, and I never expected her to be either...I feel like the actual reason given for why she took her own life was rather illogical. She apparently did it because the investigation was putting the clones in danger of another Helsinki. Okay, but just because Evie Cho says you should off yourself, doesn't mean you have to. You could just, like...stop investigating. And if you die under mysterious circumstances without explaining anything to the sisters, they're not going to be put off from the investigation. They're going to look into this even more, because they don't know why they're not supposed to. The reveal that she and Art fell in love toward the end adds an extra gut punch, but it also doesn't make sense because wouldn't Art have referenced it during the period that he thought Sarah was Beth? On the other hand, Season 4 also introduced MK. And I have such a soft spot for her. I adore that sheep-masked sweetie. Everyone always asks "Which clone would you date" (because fandoms can think of nothing else I guess) and I never see anyone give any love to MK. Her death absolutely tore me apart. I am glad Siobhan avenged her even if she went down at the same time. Side note, her last word being the affectionate "Chickens..." Broke me.
Season 5 was a strange beast. In general, it seemed like we were finally getting some answers to the questions that were hanging over us. Exploring the deep mythos. But then they kind of turned it around and made it just be a Wizard of Oz style fraud twist. Westmoreland isn't really inhumanly old, he's a charlatan. I don't know why that was necessary in a science fictional show. I've seen the interviews and I get what they were going for, it just feels like it would have been cooler and far creepier if he was actually that old. The puppet master pulling the strings the whole time. We also finally get some answers for Kira's superhuman healing abilities (though we never learn how she's telepathically connected to the clones) and I'm loving it, but the trouble is, it's inconsistent. Ethan "Why is this guy so popular, he's an asshole" Duncan told Rachel specifically that Sarah being able to have children was a fluke, that the clones were "barren by design." I don't know, the whole concept of Revival and of the "magical island" was really foreboding and tied in with the earlier references to The Island of Doctor Moreau. Especially that song about "Revival's Children" just...the shudders, man. But just having it be a regular old scam is...a letdown. I know it may be more realistic, but I don't always need realism in my scifi. The finale is interesting, in that it's mostly an epilogue. I'm glad the clones (sans Rachel) got to live happily ever after, but there are two gut punches right at the end that are total nitpicks but they bother me. Helena naming her kids after Art and Donnie? And writing a memoir that she names "Orphan Black?" Those two tropes can go die in a hole. They can enjoy an oophorectomy, because I'm so sick of them.
The potential of Orphan Black was practically infinite. The results of Orphan Black fell frustratingly short.
19 notes · View notes
queenlua · 3 years
Note
You're a druid and an ex-evangelical, right? What does being a druid mean to you? How did you get from evangelicalism to where you are now? And of course feel free to ignore this if it's nosy. (sincerely, a Christian who wants to leave but who doesn't know what to do)
this is going to make me sound ignorant as hell, lol, but i'm happy to share
under a cut because this got very long, sorry, lol.
my personal progression was: "vaguely christian -> VERY christian -> christian agnostic -> agnostic/atheist -> agnostic/druid -> some sorta druid-neopagan-animist thing."  i guess i'll just go through what made me switch between each of those, and close out with some high-level thoughts that may be helpful for you?
okay, so when i was
VAGUELY CHRISTIAN,
i went to Sunday school every week because That's What You Do, and because my whole hometown was very southern Baptist, i never questioned the veracity of its teachings much... until they ran a whole weekly series on "why [x] is wrong," where [x] is some other group
e.g., we had a week on why Mormons are wrong, and i didn't bat an eye because i hadn't even known Mormons existed until that moment
then we had a week on why Muslims are wrong, and that... bothered me, because i had a friend who was Muslim, and she was just objectively a better person than me, and i was like "any universe where she goes to hell and i don't seems really fucked up"
then we had a week on why EVOLUTION was wrong, and that just absolutely threw me, because while i hadn't thought about evolution much (i think i was in fourth grade or so), it seemed common-sense? scientists thought highly of it? "adaptation over time" just seems logical?
so i went to the public library every day after school for like a week, read some Darwin and some science books, and came back to my Sunday school teacher with, like, an itemized list of objections to the whole "evolution is wrong" thing.  and he came up with some standard Answers In Genesis rebuttals, and i did more research and came back the next week with more science, and we repeated this a few times until he was like "lua, you just gotta take some things on faith"
which.  lmao.  full existential crisis time, because no matter how hard i thought, i couldn't *not* believe in the science, but i also didn't want to go to hell, so i was like "maybe if i believe SUPER HARD i will SOMEDAY be able to unbelieve the condemn-me-to-hell bits"
so i decided to become
VERY CHRISTIAN
and my frantic googling for shit like "proof of god" and "god and evolution" *eventually* broke me out of the Answers In Genesis circles of the internet, and into some decent Christian apologia, like, think First Things and various Catholic bloggers.  and there, i found some way to square my gut sense that evolution was right, with a spiritual worldview.
like, i remember finding some blogger who said:
"young earth creationists get tripped up when they try to explain stars that are millions of light-years away, and end up basically arguing that God's tricking us somehow, and—no!  my God lets you believe in the evidence of your eyes, my God does not demand that you make yourself ignorant or stupid, my God expects you to use your brain"
and i just started crying at my computer, because no one had ever said "using your brain is Good and part of God's will," i was like *finally* here's someone who won't tell me i'm going to hell for just *thinking* about things
(st. augustine does a much better riff on a similar theme, fwiw, but i only found him later)
still, it was an uneasy fit, because, the more i learned and read about world history, the more it seemed... weird... that the One And Singular Path To Salvation was... the successor to some niche desert cult... which didn't even occur at the *beginning* of written history, like, it was all predated by that whole Mithraism thing, etc... and like, sure, i could trot out all the standard theological talking points for why Actually This Makes Perfect Sense, but gut-level-wise, the aesthetics just seemed kinda dumb!  and no level of talking myself out of it made that feeling go away!
so at this point i started referring to myself as a
CHRISTIAN AGNOSTIC
i mean, not aloud.  i still lived in southernbaptistopia and i didn't want, like, my hair stylist to tell me i was a horrible person.  but in my *head* i called myself Christian agnostic and it felt right.
and i started church-hopping, which honestly was really fun, would recommend to anyone at any point.  i visited the fire-and-brimstone baptist church, the methodist church, the episcopalians, the universal unitarians, etc.
unfortunately, while this gave me *some* new perspectives, each of the places either had the same shitty theology as my old megachurch (i remember the *acute* sense of despair i felt when i was starting to jive with a methodist church... only for the dumbass youth minister to start going on about evolution), or, they just lacked any sense of the *sacred*.  like, the Church of Christ churches, with their a capella services, *definitely* had it; i felt more God there in one service than i did in a lifetime of shitty Christian rock at the megachurch.  but their beliefs were even *more* batshit, so.  big L on that one.
having failed to find a satisfactory church, i was basically
AGNOSTIC/ATHEIST
by the time i went to college, but honestly pretty unhappy about it; while it was harder than ever for me to actually *connect* with the divine, i didn't like thinking that my previous experiences of the divine were total lies.  because my shitty evangelical church, for all its faults, could not *completely* sabotage the sense of God's presence.  there were real moments in that church where i do believe i experienced something divine.  mostly mediated by one particular youth minister, who in hindsight was the only spiritual teacher in that church who didn't seem a bit rotten inside, but!  it was something!
so when i happened upon a bunch of writings on the now-defunct shii.org (that's the bit that makes me look WILDLY ignorant, lol), i was utterly captivated.
said author was a previous archdruid of the Reformed Druids of North America, an organization that was formed in the 1960s to troll the administration of Carleton College (there was a religious-service-attendance requirement; they made their own religion; their religion had whiskey and #chilltimes for its services).  however, this shii.org dude seemed to take it pretty seriously.  he was studying history of religion and blogged a lot about his studies, both academic and otherwise.  while RDNA had started out as a troll, that didn't mean they hadn't *discovered* something real in the process, he said.
this, already, was going to be innately appealing to me; i've got a soft spot for wow-we-were-doing-this-ironically-but-now-it's-kinda-real? stuff in general.
in particular, shii.org’s discussions on the separation of ritual from belief was really interesting to me: most religions/spiritualities have *both*, but like, you can do a ritual without having the Exact Right Beliefs (if there even is such a thing!), and it can still be useful to you, it can have real power.  (he had a really lovely essay, speculating on the origins of religion as just a form of art, but that essay is now lost to the sands of time, alas.)
(note that i wouldn't really recommend seeking out *recent* writing by the shii.org guy; he kinda went full tedious neoreactionary-blowhard-who-reads-a-lot-of-Spengler at some point?  sigh.)
the shii.org guy led me to checking out a bunch of books on the history of neopaganism & also books by scholars of religion in general, and the more i read, the more excited i became.  and i started doing little ritual/meditation stuff here and there.
then i was fortunate enough to attend some events with Earthspirit (this was when i lived in Boston), which cemented my hippie dalliances into something more real.  the folks there, being from Boston, were all ridiculously overeducated (a sensibility that appeals to me), but also, being the kind of folks who drive out to a mountain in the middle of nowhere for a spiritual retreat, they tolerated a full range of oddities (everyone from aging-70s-feminist-wiccans to living-on-a-farm-with-your-bros-Astaru to dude-who-started-having-weird-visions-and-is-just-trying-to-figure-out-the-deal to Nordic-spiritualist-with-two-phds-from-Scandanavian-universities-on-the-subject, etc), which gave me a lot of room to explore different types of rituals, ceremonies, "magic", etc.
(polytheism in general lends itself well to this sort of easy plurality!  i can believe other people are experiencing something real with their gods, and i can be talking to a totally different set of gods, and that’s just all very compatible, etc)
anyway, i started calling myself
AGNOSTIC/DRUID
around then, because i knew i'd found *something*, something that felt like all the realest moments i'd ever had in nature, and all the realest moments i'd ever had in that shitty megachurch, but i wasn't quite ready to put a theology to it.
but, idk, you do the thing for a while, and you start encountering some things that you may as well call gods, and you realize you're in pretty deep, and you ditch the "agnostic" bit and just throw hands and start describing yourself as
SOME SORTA DRUID-NEOPAGAN-ANIMIST THING
because that's the most precise thing you can muster.  in particular, the druid bit resonates because nature's still very much at the center of my practice; the neopagan bit resonates because i'm not especially interested in reconstructing older traditions or being faithful to any actual pre-Christian traditions, and animist resonates because what i sometimes call gods seem to be tied pretty tightly to the land itself.  it's all very experiential; all this mostly means i'm some weird chick who sometimes grabs a car and drives out someplace very lonely and hikes for a while and does some hippie shit to try and talk with the land or the god or whatever is there.  and sometimes i come back from it changed, or refocused, or what-have-you, and hopefully i'm better for it.  i'm aware this makes me look a little ridiculous, and is an unsatisfying answer, sorry!
WRT YOUR SITUATION
i don't know you or your situation, obviously, but if i wanted to give former-me some advice to save her some angst, i'd say
-> Christendom itself is far wilder and more diverse than many churches lead you to believe.  if you still want to be Christian on some level, and it's just a shitty church that's convinced you the whole project is fucked, i'd honestly explore, i dunno, your nearest Quaker meeting.  they're invoking the Holy Spirit with regularity but they're not raging douchenozzles about it.
-> if you're specifically interested in druidism, i found John Michael Greer's "A World Full of Gods" really nice.  (caveat: Greer has *also* gone full right-wing nutjob these days, sigh, so like.  would not recommend a great swath of his writing.  but that one's good)
-> deciding that a just God wouldn't give me a brain and then ask me not to use it was hugely comforting to me.  like, that was the start of the whole process, that was what made me feel ok searching for other churches and trying to find something that fit.  obviously you should take this with 800 grains of salt, because obviously i'm no longer Christian, and thus maybe i'm just some poor misguided fallen soul, but... i still kinda believe that!  maybe if you can make yourself believe that, it'll seem less scary?
idk, happy to answer more questions, sorry for the long ramble, hope it helped~
23 notes · View notes
vanchlo · 4 years
Text
Green Eyes
Tumblr media
*Thanks so much for reading! c: There are now several parts you can read here:   2    3    4 
I’m so happy to share that I won a fiction writing award for this short story through my college’s art journal! c: 
Blurb Synopsis: You had been subbing for Mr. Styles for the last couple of months, but you’ve yet to meet him. The notes you leave for each other have sparked a friendship, leading you to want more, and you wonder if he does too.
Genre: Teacher Harry, lots of fluff, friendship, and maybe even some romance? ;) 
Warnings: None
Word Count: 5.5k words
Pairing: Harry x Reader
Music Inspo: Green Eyes by Coldplay (click to listen)
*
His shelves were full of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Rumi, and Charles Bukowski. His desk was covered in scribbled Post-It notes, Bit-O-Honey wrappers, and empty mugs of tea. 
This is what you noticed the first few times you subbed in his classroom. 
These were the only details you knew about the man whose face you’ve never seen. As you gradually began to substitute for his high school English classes more and more, you learned about him more. This was due to his students, and his personal belongings. 
What he didn’t and didn’t like: all the way from no fringes on a notebook paper, no red pen ever because that was his grading color, no using the word ‘can’t’ in his class, and students can eat all the snacks they want as long as the trash goes in the bin where it belongs. 
The CDs in a stack on the shelf told you which ones he actually listened to because they were the ones that were on top and without dust. 
You learned that the pristine book on his desk was never the one he was reading. No, it was the weathered and used copy beside his mug with dog-eared pages and penciled notes. 
His drawers told you another story with their contents: boxes of teas ranging from peach to vanilla macaron, journals filled to the brim with words, adult coloring books with tv show themes, and books on Van Gogh and Monet hinting at his artsy background. His students slowly warmed up to you, and through them, so did he. 
At this point, you’d only been subbing for Mr. Styles the last five months, racking up around two and a half weeks worth of subbed days. He always left precise and concise lesson plans for you. The books were where he said they’d be. The webpages he mentioned were bookmarked on his desktop. The teacher copy of the textbook and current group book were on his desk. At the beginning, his desk looked like a professional organizer had gotten their hands on it. Slowly, as you came to sub more for him, it grew messier, albeit you kept it tidy during your appearances. As the first few months passed and you became one of the few subs in his room, you started to find notes. They weren’t just any notes. They were more than the straight forward sub notes for the day’s agenda. No, they weren’t that simple. You can still remember the first one you found on a Post-It note - it went like this: 
Y/N, peanut butter on your waffles or syrup? 
It took you by surprise, but nonetheless, you answered his call. Each time, you’d find a contrasting pen color and scrawl your answer underneath his. Then leaving it somewhere he would find it the next day. They were one-liners at the beginning, and always interesting. Walking to his classroom from your car on those mornings, you’d fill with excitement at the anticipation of finding the next one. Sometimes it took you the entire day to find where he had hidden them. 
In the closet. 
In a nook in a drawer. 
Under the chair. 
On the backside of one of his books. 
Hidden in plain sight amongst his current choice of notes and lists. 
They never failed to spark a smile on your lips, whether it was quirky, confused, astounded or humored. 
Guitar or piano?
FRIENDS or The Simpsons?
Vanilla or Chocolate?
Would you rather become a superhero or a wizard?
The Beatles or the Rolling Stones?
Slowly, the questions became more personal, and more than just ‘this or that.’ His questions became longer, and so did your answers.  
What was the moment that made you decide to become a teacher?
Is Donny a good student for you, or is he lying to me about that?
What color are your eyes?
What book/film do you believe had the largest impact on you while growing up?
What is the one meal you always order at a restaurant?
Do you have a family?
Should I splurge and buy a new desk chair?
What book should I buy for my classroom you think I need to have? Why?
Why don’t you have a classroom of your own?
When is your birthday?
Star Wars or Lord of the Rings?
They were never a chore for you, or tedious. No, they were fun and you felt as if you saw a little sliver of who he really was with each note. After a while, you started to write and leave your own notes for him to answer. At first, many of them were similar to ones he had left you, because you wanted to hear his responses, too. 
*
The newest one stares back at you, his half-cursive registering in your eyes.
What’s your favorite part about subbing in my classroom? Don’t say the students, that’s what everybody says. 
Giggling to yourself, you reach over to his Pink Floyd mug to pull out a green pen. You take a moment to think of your answer. This time you found the note peeking out from behind the smart whiteboard. The sounds of the end of a school day tickle at your ears as you scribble down your answer. Pressing it to an open square of wood on his desk, you turn back to the royal blue pad of Post-Its. Peeling one off, the green pen hovers over the paper, but you can’t get yourself to write the question you’ve been wanting to know all along. 
He didn’t have a Facebook, or an Instagram. 
The high school doesn’t have a wall of staff pictures like others you’ve subbed at do. 
It’s late winter, so yearbooks are still a ways off. 
For all you know, you could have seen him here before in the halls when you subbed in another classroom. 
Exhaling, you press the pen to the paper before you can convince yourself to stop. Unlike the many times before when your fears got the best of you. 
What do you look like?
With a proud but nervous smile you stick it to the desk, layering the first note on top. It sticks to your lips as you bend down to reach your hand into your bag. The glossy bag greets your hand, and you pull it out to set down beside the note. 
A small bag of Bit-O-Honeys. 
Looking up, your eyes scan the empty classroom. Few footsteps, voices, and lockers slamming trickle in from the halls. You suddenly realize that this is the same view he sees, these are the same sounds he hears, and the same place he sits in every day. Well, when he’s not away on personal days, sick days, on holiday, and at workshops, hence your appearances. The thought knits something together inside of you, making you feel just that bit more closer to him. Something that’s been slowly happening over time since you first stepped foot in his classroom. 
One of the first things that did this was the posters scattered across his walls. A poster from the 2013 remake of The Great Gatsby, The Beatles’ Abbey Road album cover, a cartoon of William Shakespeare, a unifying print of Keith Haring’s art, and several posters of quotes from famous books - To Kill A Mockingbird, the Kite Runner, Of Mice and Men, The Life of Pi, and even The Hunger Games. It delighted you watching him add some of them to the walls since your time here, and you’ve been itching to purchase him one as a gift. You’re unsure of what he would like though, and the fear of failure has held you back from doing so. 
A bleep! catches your attention. Casting your eyes to the dormant desktop screen, you wiggle the mouse. A red circle has appeared on the title of a tab opened to your professional email. Clicking over to it from a YouTube video he had you show the class, you find you have a new message. At the sight of who sent it, your heart skips a beat: harry.styles@isd . . . . . . . 
Hi. I reckon you’re still sitting at my desk this moment, now that’s a funny thought. I wanted to ask you a question while I remembered. I have to go out of town on Friday for a funeral. Believe me, I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to, but these things are a must. I apologize for it being short notice, but I thought I’d ask you if you would like to take it before I posted it to the sub database. Please let me know either way by tonight, so it has a few days to sit on the website to be claimed. Also, I wanted to say thanks for everything you do. My students really love you, and it makes me wonder what I’m missing. Enjoy your night! 
Sincerely,
Harry Styles
“Keep your face always toward the sunshine - and shadows will fall behind you. - WW”
A smile warms your cheeks as you finish reading his words, and the familiar poem that ends every email of his. You quickly type up a response to him, agreeing to take the job on Friday, thanking him for thinking of you. A new email appears in your inbox shortly after from another colleague, which occupies you before you lose yourself in your thoughts again. 
Perhaps your favorite addition in his classroom is the Fender acoustic sitting on a stand in the corner. Of course, you’ve yet to see it move in the last five months. The stories his students have told you in a way have given it legs of its own in your mind. Much like the little notes you’ve been leaving for each other, something you dread ever ending. 
*
It was a Wednesday. You’re convinced that Mrs. Watson’s Pre-Calc class is surely the bane of your existence. You keep cursing yourself for taking sub assignments for math classes. Seeing that you’re terrible at the subject, you vowed you’d never take one of her assignments again, but you have to pay the bills somehow. You found your respite in the cozy staff lounge. Couches lined two of the walls, along with an arrangement of tables on the other side of the room. 
As you walk in, you see that one of the ancient history teachers has nodded off again on the plaid couch. Otherwise, the room is empty, and all to yourself. If that didn’t make you happy before, the assortment of food on the counter definitely does. 
Voices float in through the open door as the plastic lid to the cupcakes opens with a pop! 
“Ah, looks like ya got tha last chocolate one. I was savin’ that one fer me,” a voice comments from behind you. Turning, you find a tall man in his late 20’s walking towards you. 
“Oh, I’m sorry, you can have it,” you volunteer, holding the blue-iced cupcake out for his taking. 
His blush lips curl up with an amused smile. Dimples fall neatly into his cheeks covered with thick stubble. Its deep brown color matches that of the short quiffed curls atop his head. Misty green eyes stare back at you in the middle of his round, but sharp face. “‘m only joking. Go ahead and have it. I already had one earlier. They’re quite good actually, but I dunno ‘bout tha vanilla. Never really cared fer tha flavoir when it comes t’ cake and ice cream,” he comments, passing you to stop at the nearby sink. 
“Yeah, I like to forget vanilla exists half of the time,” you remark, peeling away the paper liner of the cupcake. 
Leaning against the counter, you watch as his ringed hand grabs a red coffee mug from the cabinet. “So do I. ‘s ratha boring, if I do say so meself.”
Nodding to yourself, a silence follows your words. The sweetness of the cupcake is shocking when you take a bite. It makes you wonder how you devoured these sugar bombs as a child. A few beeps and a hum from the microwave echo throughout the room as you check your phone. 
“Y’know, I haven’t seen ya here at tha school befo’. Are ya new dis year or a sub?” he asks, bringing your eyes back to his lean figure. He pulls a yellow square packet from his tight-fitting black slats, a blush button-down tucked into its waist. 
“I started subbing here this year,” you answer before taking another bite of the cupcake. Half of it consists of the sickeningly sweet frosting that makes your teeth ache. 
“Mmmm I see. How d’ya like it so far? Are ya a new teacher, ‘s that why yer subbin’?” 
“Yeah, I went back to school kinda late in the game after doing something else. I figure I’d sub for a little bit for some experience, because what’s another year of waiting by this time?” you comment, observing how he fiddles with his black tie while searching in the refrigerator. 
“Well, congratulations. ‘s a big step t’ go back t’ school fer sumthin’ ya love. ‘s a good profession, I reckon. I’ve been teaching fer 7 years, and here at dis school fer 5. Sumtimes schools even hire subs they’ve had when a position opens, so keep yer eyes open,” he tells you, turning to you with a smile, a yogurt in his hand. 
“Thank you,” you say sincerely, returning the smile. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
“Sure thing. I know it helped loads when I was a newbie. ‘ll see ya around, I gotta get back t’ class befo’ me students do first. Have a good one!” 
Walking towards you with the steaming cup of tea in his hands, he pats your arm with his other hand on the way out. Nodding at your ‘thank you’, a small ‘you’re welcome’ falls from his lips before the door closes behind him. Eating the last bite you can muster of the cupcake, you toss its remains in the bin. A thought worms its way into your mind as you sit down at the table. 
Wow, I wonder who that guy was? And is he married, because shit, he was handsome. 
*
The smell of orange essential oil greets you when you stepped foot into his classroom the next time. The state of his desk made you frown, and made you want to scratch the itch to clean it. You resisted it and didn’t, and that thought was taken away when his students began to find their desks. 
Another day of 7 classes came and went. 2 classes of Introduction to Creative Writing. 3 classes of American Literature. 2 classes of World Literature. Amusing YouTube videos broke up the monotony of your day, and those of his students. The lesson notes he left for you had become more concise as the months have passed, and as you learned from each other. The same couldn’t be said for the dish of Bit-O-Honeys on his desk that he’s kept stocked for your appearances. You’re just glad he’s put the bag you left for him to good use. All throughout your day you had been looking for his newest note, but this time it wasn’t in any of his usual spots. After correcting some quizzes from today, you finally found it in the bottom left-hand drawer of his mahogany desk. Stuck to a tall can of Coke, your favorite drink of choice. 
I’m sorry it’s warm, although I’m not sure how you like to drink it. I just find warm soda to be rather nasty. The answer to your question is I have green eyes, brown hair, I’m rather tall, and I like to dress up. Is that good enough for you? Now, what do you look like, love?
Your insides melt at the sight of his answer, but then you groan at the vagueness of it. Off the top of your head, you know there are at least 10 male teachers here at this school with brown hair, maybe more. Maybe even with green eyes, too, and you know that because you’ve seen them in the staff lounge or in the halls. The thought only grows worse when you lose count of  how many teachers there are here at this school. Let’s just say, there’s a lot. Yeah, that sure helps a whole lot. Annoyed, you pluck a pen from the green mug and answer his question with as little detail as possible. Two can play at this game, you think to yourself as you sigh. 
If you could have a jam session with any musician, dead or alive, who would it be?
Sticking the new note where its corner peeks out from under his tabletop calendar, your eyes return to the Coke. It’s undeniable, you feel a little less perturbed at him just at the sight of it. Only a little bit, that is. Sure, you’ve subbed for a countless number of teachers at this school, and more so in this school district. A few of them are even friends or relatives of yours, but you’d never connected with one before like you have with Harry. You just wish more than anything you could find out what he looks like and what he’s really like. Continuing to take his sub jobs doesn’t really help with that. It only drives you crazier wanting to know the other side of this fascinating human being. 
*
There he was, snoring on the couch again, tv remote in hand. The weather channel is playing, surprising you very little. Snickering, you yank open the door to the black refrigerator. After retrieving your striped black and blue lunchbox, you place the container of leftovers in the microwave. A laugh is heard over your shoulder, and when you turn, you find Green Eyes from the other day. 
Tittering as the door closes behind him, he says, “No fail, John ‘s always passed out on dat couch, I swear.”
“I know, it’s every time I’m here. Maybe he should just retire already so he can take his naps at home. Then maybe we could watch something on the tv for once,” you comment, shaking your head. Unpacking your lunch box, you take out a clementine, vanilla yogurt, and silverware. 
“Nah, he loves it too much. I don’t see him leavin’ anytime soon,” he remarks, walking past you to search the shelves of the fridge. “What’re we having’ t’day? Couldn’t find any cupcakes dis time?”
“No, those ones were too sweet anyways. They gave me a stomachache,” you complain with a grimace. The beeeeep! of the microwave interrupts your thoughts. 
“Mmmm, I dunno, I thought they were pretty good.” Rubbing his tummy, he pulls a breathy laugh from your lips. 
Your steaming container of leftovers almost burns your hands, and you dread trying to eat it within the next 10 minutes. Setting up for a lesson in Mr. Harrison’s classroom was a pain, making you wonder why you take any sub jobs besides Harry’s anymore. 
“No free food fer us t’day,” he pouts beside you, closing the fridge door before venturing to the vending machine in the corner. Your eyes drift to his outfit choice today - a white button-down topped with a buttoned vest the shade of ochre, all tucked into brown slacks.
“That’s why you pack a lunch. I thought you’d know the drill by now, since you said you’ve been teaching for a while.”
“I do, but sumtimes I forget. Yer already ahead o’ me with dat part, love,” he who doesn’t have a name answers with a short laugh. Sliding a leather wallet from his pocket, you see him type in a number before you sit down at the table. “Who are ya subbin’ fer t’day then?”
“I’m on the west side in the Science wing for Harrison. Bloody Bio.”
“Ugh, I neva cared fer science. Where were ya a few weeks ago when I last saw ya?” he questions, sliding out a chair across from you. An assortment of vending machine food hits the table with a slap - peanut M&M’s, a nutrigrain bar, and a bag of Sun Chips. 
“Upstairs in Watson’s Maths class. Remind me to never sub for her again, because I can’t understand Pre-Calc for the life of me. I never could in high school so I don’t know why I thought I could know,” you chuckle. A warmth fills your cheeks at the sight of his lips spreading into an amused smile. 
“Yeah, I neva cared fer Maths meself eitha. Numbas neva made a bit o’ sense t’ me, words were always betta,” he explains. You nod along with his words, your mouth occupied with a bite of spaghetti and meatballs. “What subject would ya like t’ teach once tha year’s ova an’ ya go searchin’ fer a job o’ yer own?”
“Um, probably something in English since that’s my focus area. Dabbling in History has been fun, though. I enjoy learning about it myself, and I always have a better time subbing in either of those classes,” you reveal. 
“I see,” he replies, his head going up and down. The crinkling of the granola bar wrapper fills the silence between you before he takes a bite. Crumbs pepper his chin, but he wipes them away from his thin beard. “How often d’ya sub here then?”
“I’d say probably 3 days a week typically, but some weeks are 4. Otherwise, I sometimes sub for a friend or somebody I know over at the middle school.”
“Ah, so yer license is sumthin’ like 8 - 12, ‘s it?” he inquires, picking up the black mug you hadn’t noticed he had. 
“Yeah, I thought that would give me a good range for those grades. With my experience now, I think I’d like to stay at the high school level though,” you continue, twirling you fork around in the noodles covered in tomato sauce. Crossing your legs, the satiny fabric of your black dress pants moves with you. 
“We could always use anotha good teacher here. Ya neva know what’ll happen,” he smiles, standing to his feet with his snacks held in his large hand. Returning his smile, he adds his mug to that hand, patting your back once on his way out. “See ya next time, love. Keep yer head up, it’ll get betta.” 
“Thanks,” you automatically respond with. When you go to say his name, you’re lost for words, because you suddenly remember you’ve never gotten it. Now, he’s already too far away to ask for it. 
Shrugging your shoulders, you stab a meatball with your fork, wondering when the next time will be that you’ll see him again. Because, he sure is nice to look at, and he’s nicer to you than anybody else here. 
*
Stevie Nicks or John Lennon, it’s a tough call. Okay, I’m doing two questions from now on, because you ask such good ones :( Who would you jam with then? Question #2: What was the last concert you went to?
This time, you found the Post-It before the school day even started. It was on the seat of his chair, making you think he wanted you to find it right away. You’re thinking maybe he remembered one of the last times you complained about how hard he had made it. Sometimes you worry about how excited you get to look for these each time you sub in his classroom, but then you remember it’s only once every few weeks. 
That can’t hurt, can it? 
That day the hallways were louder than they usually were after school. You attributed that to the boys’ semifinals basketball game set to be played tonight in the gymnasium. The school’s home team against a nearby rival school. Students couldn’t stop talking about it all day, and many of them shared they’d be sticking around after school to attend. Checking your watch, you note that you should have enough time to stop at home to eat dinner before coming back for it. Even though you hadn’t even known about it before today. 
The Sufjan Stevens song floating from his desktop fills the room as you get out books for tomorrow. Your hands are full with copies of The Kite Runner, making you feel grateful again to Harry- Mr. Styles for picking a decent classic for the class to read. Although you’d only read it a few years ago yourself, and it broke your heart, you’re excited to sub next time to help his World Lit class with it. 
“Oh hey, be careful there, yer gonna slip and fall with all o’ those,” somebody says from behind you, distracting you from your mission of bringing the pile of books from the closet to a desk. 
Don’t I know that voice? Turning your eyes to the doorway, you find Green Eyes walk in with a coat slung over his arm. Wait a second. 
“I-I’m fine,” you stutter, but your actions that follow negate your words. Your eyes run over his familiar features, and slowly the puzzle pieces start to click in your head. Harry? A thought bomb explodes in your head, and the books tumble from your arms. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
“Yer okay,” he murmurs, stopping in front of you. Kneeling down, you both begin to pick up the books, stacking them on top of each other. “Thanks for gettin’ me set up fer t’morrow though. I appreciate it.” 
“Mmmhmm,” is all you can say, because any words that want to come out can’t get past the lump in your throat. One that’s there because of the realization you just had.
Green Eyes and Harry are the same person. 
How did I not figure this out sooner? 
“So, ya must be Y/N, huh?” he giggles, his head bent down as he helps you pick up the books. 
“Y-Yeah, surprise,” you admit, and your laugh soon joins his. Before you know it, the both of you can’t stop laughing. 
“Here,” you hear him say. Looking up, you find him standing in front of you holding his hand out for you to take. A cozy looking maroon sweater covers his upper half, and blue jeans don the rest. “Fancy meetin’ you here,” he jokes in between laughs. 
“You’re right about that,” you answer, taking his hand. He helps you to your feet where you smooth down the violet skirt of your dress. “I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots.”
“Yer not tha only one, love,” Harry comments, bending over to grab a stack of books. He begins to set one on each desk as he walks down the aisles of them. “But I s’pose there wasn’t any way t’ know.”
“Yeah, I couldn’t find you on Facebook,” you confess, cursing yourself for the slip up a few seconds later. Lifting your head from the book you just set on a desk, you find his amused eyes on you across the room. 
“Ah, so ya were stalkin’ me, were ya?” he smirks, his delightful laugh following his words. 
“No, I wasn’t! You’re just one of the only colleagues I’ve subbed for who I’ve never met, or like don’t know what they look like.”
Your small stack soon disappears and when you return to the pile at the back of the room, he does too. 
“So, what d’ya think? Are ya disappointed then?”
“No,” you say automatically, lifting your eyes to his green ones that land on you. His cheeks lined with a thick, neat beard crease with dimples as he smiles at you. 
“Neither am I . . . .  Ms. Vance Joy fan,” he returns, holding your gaze. The sincerity in his words gets under your skin, going straight to your heart. The sarcastic joke inside of them makes you giggle. 
Clearing your throat, you look away with what you’re sure are blushing cheeks. Most likely, an entire blushing face. “What are you doing here, anyways, if you were gone for the day?”
“I can’t miss me boys’ big game, a few o’ me students are on tha team. I thought I’d catch up on sum emails and grading befo’hand, but didn’t know ya’d still be here.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just leaving, anyways,” you mutter, your movements stilling. 
“I didn’t mean it dat way, love. ‘m glad we finally met, it was about time, anyways,” Harry insists, and you nod before continuing to place a book at each desk. “Hey wait, you said you were short and all plain in yer note. No, yer not, ya fibber.”
“Oh like your description was any more accurate,” you scoff lightheartedly, setting down a book before grabbing another from your dwindling stack. 
His rich laugh meets your ears, and you can’t resist looking over to him. “Ya didn’t give yerself enough credit, ya know,” he almost coos, and you swear your heart melted into a puddle right then and there. That’s if it hadn’t done so already when you realized he’s Green Eyes. Swoon. 
It’s hard to hold back the excitement curling at the edge of your lips. Soon, you run out of books again and when you take a peek at him, so has he. 
“Were ya gonna go?” he questions, and you deal him one when you look at him confused. “T’ tha game, I mean.”
Your body feels like jello, and that any move you make would be sloppy. Embarrassing. That’s the last thing you want to look like in front of him. With his dazzling smile, adorably dimpled cheeks, and the cozy vibes he’s giving off. Not to mention, the clean citrus scent wafting off of him. A smell you certainly would be okay with smelling for hours on end. If only. 
“Well bloody Rob around tha corner bailed on me, so I have an extra ticket now. Would ya like t’ join me? I was thinkin’ o’ grabbin’ a sub from ‘round tha corner befo’. Concession food ‘s always too expensive, and never worth tha lines at halftime,” Harry suggests, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. One corner of his mouth climbs up his cheek, making you feel like maybe you’re not alone in these jumbled feelings. Or in the fun you’ve had carrying on this blind relationship with him. 
“Yeah, that sounds like fun. Maybe we could get to know each other a little better than the few words Post-It notes can hold.”
Slowly, the other corner of his lips curls upwards, making the dimple fall into his cheek once again. Nodding, his lips split into a full-fledged smile, singing with a chuckle. “I’d really like that,” he reveals before venturing to the door and shutting off the light. Extending an arm, he waves a hand towards himself.
“Hold on, let me get my things.”
“No rush. ’s not like ‘ve waited seven months fer dis or anythin’,” he quips. By now, you’re certain your face resembles a tomato. You hope that in the muted light, perhaps he won’t notice. 
Hurriedly, you slip on your light coat and drape your bag over your shoulder. Your eyes catch something as you’re tucking your phone in your pocket. Grabbing one last thing, you turn to find him watching you from the lit doorway. 
“What?” he wonders aloud, still with that smile etched onto his face. One you’re fairly sure you could get used to seeing. 
“Here,” you tell him, placing the Post-It note in his palm. His fingers dotted with dark hairs brush against you, just for a second longer than need be. 
“Ah, can’t forget dis now. Important stuff here.”
“Indeed,” you note, stifling a laugh as the sarcasm floats in the air. 
You observe his eyes flit across the paper holding your cursive as your steps echo down the empty hallway. 
“Hmmm, funny. It says ‘would you like to meet up sometime’ on here,” Harry reads, casting his twinkling eyes to you. Green eyes. “I was jus’ ‘bout t’ ask ya tha same thing on me next note. But I had sumthin’ that woulda took tha cake fer sure.”
“What’s that?” you remark, wondering how that could be. Those thoughts fly out the window when you feel his arm come around your shoulder. A squeal sounds inside of your head, but hey, at least that’s far less embarrassing than doing it out loud. 
“I was gonna tell ya dat Tracy across tha hall from me ‘s leavin’ afta dis year, and I may have recommended a certain sumbody t’ tha principal t’ replace her,” Harry hums, a knowing glint dancing in his eyes as they hover over you. “What d’ya say t’ bein’ colleagues instead o’ bein’ me sub?”
“I think I could get used to that,” you answer, letting your smile take over your entire face.
“So could I, love. So could I.” 
455 notes · View notes
bestsongby · 3 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media
New Thoughts on Old Classics:
Hotel California, by the Eagles. 1976
Is it Essential? 
The Eagles (or, more specifically, Henley and Frey) were often viewed as cocaine-fueled El Lay misogynists. I think the cocaine-fueled and El Lay are indisputable, but is the misogynist tag a little unfair? Could be.
I’ve always been fascinated by Hotel California, the Eagles’ bazillion selling magnum opus, and how it plays with that perception in mind. 
Hotel California is the Eagles stretching their powers as far as the rubber band will allow before it snaps or loses its shape forever, which probably explains why their only subsequent release as an active band was the lackluster The Long Run, a collection of half-assed disco shuffles and by-the-numbers rockers. (aside from barely an Eagle Timothy B. Schmidt’s heartfelt soft rock gem “I Can’t Tell You Why,” and barely upright Eagle Joe Walsh’s catchy as fuck guitar rocker “In the City.”)
For what it’s worth, the stretched rubber band theory is one I apply to most great rock acts who spend any time working under the Album as Art theory of record making. (acknowledging that there have been many, many Not Great bands operating under this theory) The Beatles wisely realized they’d reached that point with Abbey Road, and packed it in before the slope slipped. The Stones began that climb with Beggar’s Banquet, and went from strength to strength until they reached their apex by plunging back down through the depths with Exile on Main St. The Kinks bucked the trend to some degree by releasing one pretty brilliant and one almost pretty brilliant album after their ultimate statement of intent, The Village Green Preservation Society. The Who…well, the Who never really got there. They fooled the world into believing Tommy was their Everest flag-planting, but the truth is Quadrophenia was a better album. All of which obscures the fact that the Who’s greatest album is Meaty, Beaty, Big and Bouncy, a perfect collection of classic singles, few of which managed to tickle the U.S. charts. 
And then there are the Loves (Forever Changes) and Zombies (Odessey & Oracle), who strayed outside their comfort zones long enough to produce single discs that stand up to the greatest of the Greatest, despite neither band ever really being truly among the Greatest. (and, yes, both bands were otherwise very, very good at times)
Whew. I digress.
Let’s start with this: Is Hotel California a great album?
I’d like to say it is, but it might not even be the Eagles’ best album. I think, assuming assessing a “best” of anything Eagles-related doesn’t make your stomach clench, an argument could be made for One of These Nights (the album that immediately preceded this one – which easily wins the battle of cover art, anyway). But Hotel California is the most Eagles of Eagles albums, and stands as the best summation of their moment in the sun. And, it marks that moment when tuneful music produced by strong personalities could dominate the American pop culture landscape like no other medium.
In hindsight, Hotel California, riding shotgun with Fleetwood Mac’s equally mammoth Rumours, stands as a signpost in a pivotal moment in pop culture’s de-evolution from artist-controlled playground to complete corporate takeover. The suits always knew there was money in the music, but, holy shit, this much money?
Hotel California is an arrogant, confident, pretentious, calculated work of fiction, and you can hum along to it. It’s dominated by Don Henley, but it’s the input of the other band members that prevents it from completely collapsing under its own weight.
So, in review, let’s start with the title track, which can almost definitely be tuned in somewhere on your terrestrial radio dial at this very moment.
“Hotel California” started as a killer guitar riff by lead guitarist Don Felder. (Fittingly, Felder, who primarily kept his head down and played the shit out of his guitar throughout the Eagles’ history, eventually became estranged from the band) Once Don Henley grafted his lyrics to the music, the song became the ultimate distillation of the Eagles’ Desert Cocaine Tableau. Most of the group’s biggest hits were pretty direct, lyrically. A woman either pissed them off, or a woman was invited to lay down in the desert with them. Or sometimes the women were left behind while the band wrote their own desperado inspired mythology. But the fragmented imagery in “Hotel California” could only really make sense if the listener has a straw permanently lodged up his nose. The Witchy Woman of the past becomes the hostess of a demonic hostel where pink champagne replaces wine and pretty boys dance endlessly in sweat drenched courtyards. It seems as if the Hotel California is a place to run to and to run from, and we’re pretty sure Henley is only lamenting the “mirrors on ceiling” because all of his coke is now going to wind up on the floor.
With all of that said, the interplay between the guitars is deathless, and even vague descriptions of driving through the desert at night are enough to conjure up personal imagery for anyone confused as to what “colitas” is (are?). (The fact that the Eagles played an acoustic version of this live is either proof that they’re assholes, or that, like Eric Clapton’s tedious acoustic return to “Layla,” they just don’t quite understand the reasons for their own success – Felder trumps Henley here, and that’s that)
With that out of the way, we catch our breath and listen to the gang take it down a notch (with the help of JD Souther – the Eagles were never lacking for talented SoCal co-conspirators, starting at the beginning with Jackson Browne) with “New Kid in Town,” which, damn it, is pretty unassailable, musically. It’s got hooks for days, lush production that never swamps the tune, and a sincere, understated vocal performance from Glenn Frey, backed by great group harmonies. What? The lyrics? Well, okay. The woman is doing him wrong (in the third person, for some reason – maybe it’s not manly to admit you’re the one being cuckolded?), and she’s not living up to her end of the bargain, and…
Okay, you get the point. It’s a Henley/Frey lyric.
“Life in the Fast Lane” (It’s interesting to note the band led the album off with Hotel California’s only three single releases – all smash hits, of course) kicks in next, and we’re reminded overtly of the cocaine. It’s a great radio rocker – guitar licks weaving in and out, featuring maybe the slickest production on the album, and Henley doesn’t spare the dude in the equation this time, letting us know that both parties are feeding each other’s sinful excesses (sex and drugs). It’s a tale as old as Los Angeles, and the spoken “are you with me so far” dropped in by Henley manages to insult the listener almost by accident. (yeah, we’re with you, Don! Sex and drugs go hand-in-hand with rock and roll, brother! Revelation!)
And then we roll into “Wasted Time.” In which Henley (boy, so far, this is really a Don disc more than a Glenn disc) strains to let the poor dumb broad who left him know that she’s done nothing but fuck up her love life by fucking the wrong dudes, and, most importantly, by leaving Henley. It’s definitely this type of sentiment that allows critics to glue the MYSOGYNY label on our heroes. It never occurs to Don that this girl might have made the right choice in leaving a dude who not only plods through an orchestrated piano ballad about the terrible decisions she’s made, but backs it up with an orchestral reprise to hammer the point home. (the reprise actually originally opened side two, just to make sure you couldn’t escape the sentiment by flipping over the album – the fucking Eagles led off side two of their biggest album with an orchestral reprise. Admire their balls)
The sequencing of Hotel California comes across as pretty messy in the era of the compact disc/digital album, with the “Wasted Time(s)” dropped right smack into the middle of things, and “Life in the Fast Lane” book-ending the song(s) with the next track up…
And it’s another Henley rocker (what demons was Frey battling in 1976 that allowed him to take such a backseat to his his white ‘fro-sporting partner?), “Victim of Love.” It’s a catchy rocker about…some poor dumb broad. I hate to harp on the cocaine, but how much of it was Stevie Nicks doing to think Henley was a fun dude to party with? Anyway, this one is another radio staple, despite never being released as a single. Truthfully, all the album really needed was “Life in the Fast Lane” to remind us the boys could rock a little. But here they slowed it down a notch in case you had trouble keeping up with them the first time. 
And then, out of nowhere, we’re dropped into Joe Walsh’s melancholy reflection on life, “Pretty Maids All in a Row.” I can’t say exactly what the Eagles were thinking when they pulled Walsh into the band (”Hey – this dude makes us look sober!”), but I’d be hard-pressed to believe they anticipated his first recorded contribution would be such a beautiful, naked sentiment, punctuated not with his trademark guitar rips, but by piano and synthesizer. It’s a jarring shift in tone, helping the album achieve an eclectic vibe it was struggling to achieve with Henley dominating the proceedings, and all the more powerful for it.
Anyway, great track. And it’s followed by another great track.
Backing up “Pretty Maids” is, for my money, the best track on the album, and one of the most overlooked songs in the band’s catalog. No coincidence it’s a Randy Meisner song. “Try and Love Again” is a soaring, hopeful rocker, punctuated by Meisner’s upper register, and some truly uplifting guitar soloing. It’s a mystery why this track wasn’t released as a single, unless Henley and Frey were still annoyed that Meisner’s “Take It to the Limit” was the band’s first number one single. But it’s the one track from the album I find myself revisiting most often, without apology. It’s also worth noting that while Meisner’s lyric is treading on self-pity, he’s not blaming a chick for his problems. 
At this point we’ve wound our way through a collection of hit singles, timeless riffs, and a couple of contributions from lesser used band members that stand up to the hits. It’s hard to say there’s a definite theme at play here, although California and Los Angeles are definite players on the scene. So it’s up to Henley, again, to hammer things home with the most pretentious track in the Eagles’ entire catalog.
“The Last Resort” answers the question, “What if Randy Newman didn’t have a sense of humor?” A confused history of California (and over seven minutes long, to punctuate its importance as a statement), complete with references to the “Red Man” and Malibu and all of those bright lights that sullied the landscape, presented by a group that pretty actively moved closer and closer to the neon the further their hitmaking prowess ascended. The song starts as a literal travelogue about a girl from Providence (”The one in Rhode Island”), and then slips into a reminder that California has really succeeded at excess, which is evidently a bad thing.
In the end, it’s all the preacher’s fault, anyway. One suspects that Henley (and Frey?) realized he wasn’t really headed toward any logical conclusions with this one, and the lesson we’re left with is that the missionaries traded the Red Man’s peace of mind and started us on the path toward…well…all of that cocaine and colitas, I guess. (it is a pretty tune, though)
And that’s it. Nine songs (split into ten tracks), three hit singles, and 38 million copies sold.
Is Hotel California essential? In terms of understanding the “evolution” of pop culture, it’s an essential landing point for those curious how Los Angeles went from acoustic canyon-dwelling hippie haven to the paranoid personal driveway for limos filled with coke-addled celebrities wearing sunglasses at midnight because the lights fuck with what’s left of their peripheral vision.
But in the battle of juggernaut Los Angeles pop albums, Rumours creams Hotel California because Fleetwood Mac can be heard shutting out the world and wrestling with their relationships while coincidentally at the peak of their songwriting and performing abilities, whereas the Eagles were trying to make statements without much to state. Rumours is essential. Hotel California sounds good when you’re not paying attention too closely. 
youtube
7 notes · View notes
oh-boleyn · 4 years
Text
jane / infamy
words: 6216, one shot, language: english
anne / jane /  katherine / catherine
as I said on my ao3, this might be my last one shot in a while (I’m really struggling with college right now, like in this moment I should be doing two assigments which... clearly I’m not doing), but still I hope you all enjoy this piece of garbage of story!
TW: canon, Jane being mean? probably more swearing that what is expected from a jane one shot
the commentary between scenes are things I got from internet about Jane Seymour
Remembered for: being the only wife to provide Henry with a son and male heir.
(…)
Jane Seymour was relieved.
The light is brighter, and her dizziness is starting to fade.
No more pain or ache in her lower body, and she feels quite better than in a long time. Her arms are longing to hold her baby, dear Edward, who has just secured her the position of queen.
She opens her eyes, but instead of finding her chambers, she is in a strange looking room, with Anne Boleyn and Catherine of Aragon. Jane wants to cry, knowing immediately what it meant. She is dead, there is no other way to turn it around. She died and was found guilty of her sins, was it her hell? Being with the other two queens? God punishment for seducing a married man?
They all stare at each other, not knowing how to proceed.
(…)
Virtue and common good sense.
(…)
The new house is nothing like what she was used to, and sharing a room with both Catherines wasn’t exactly in her dreams.
She had less problems with accepting Catherine rather than Anne, after all, with the last the relationship had been more than rocky, but Catherine probably wasn’t Jane’s biggest fan either. Even after the older queen’s death, Jane had always tried her best with Mary, attempting to help her image, trying to reconcile with the religion.
Parr wasn’t bad, but she was quite closed. They weren’t acquaintances in their past lives, but that didn’t mean Catherine would introduce herself and invite her to grab a snack or something. It was hard to think about her, how connected both were but how apart too. The most she would talk was about history, or science, or another thing Jane couldn’t bring herself to truly understand and would be left just nodding along.
(…)
When she died, he actually sunk into depression, officially mourning her for two years before marrying again.
(…)
Looking for a job is not an easy task, it’s not like she ever had to do that before. Her kinsman secured her a good place as the lady of the queen, and even when the court became hostile and fell apart, she managed to still have her place.
But now jobs required so much, not just her needlework and knowing how to perform the arts —whatever arts you want that to mean. Modern positions searched for way too many qualities she doesn’t have.
When Catherine offers the idea of doing a show, she says yes out of desperation of not knowing how to do anything else, not even how get the oven to work. Once it goes out of her mouth, she truly wishes the rest of the queens don’t notice how needy she is of the opportunity.
(…)
By that account, she was practically a saint!
(…)
Opening night was stressful to say the least. There are at least a hundred pairs of eyes on her, and her song – her song! While everyone clapped along Aragon’s and Boleyn’s, her part was different, way out of the upbeat modern pop style.
She couldn’t even have a fun, upbeat song.
It’s not like she didn’t want to, Jane tried so hard to add comic relief to her story, trying puns and obnoxious screaming. But her song was slow, more of a ballad instead of the pop-rock songs the show featured. And, to top it, she was the only one who talked about understanding Henry, about loving him, staying by his side.
Of fucking course, she had to be the sweet woman who just happened to love a horrible man.
(…)
Jane was Henry’s true love.
(…)
It is hard to fill her place, her own shoes she left behind when she died.
Jane Seymour, known because she was the one he truly loved. The one he asked to be painted years after she died, instead of just letting her rest in peace. Jane, the dutiful wife, the one who had the son he so desperately wanted.
And the audience loved it, they loved to see the dutiful mother, the one who can’t stop talking about her son. They cheered, they heard everything they always knew.
Because she wasn’t an interesting character in the story, she was just another woman there to obey the orders of the king.
She wishes she was known for something else, but that’s not her life. Of course, playing another character would be fun, being the temptress, the evil stepmother, the fun one, someone people actually cared about. Instead, she was the tedious, boring perfect wife. Reduced to her uterus capacity, and ability to shut her mouth.
(…)
I assure you she is as gentle a lady as ever I knew, and as fair a Queen as any in Christendom.
(…)
“Good morning, Katherine.” Jane says.
The teenager enters the kitchen with heavy steps, still not quite awake from the night of sleep.
“Morning.” She replies, voice small.
“Would you like something to eat?”
“Do you know how to cook?” Katherine retorts, a smug look on her face. “Don’t worry, I will buy something. Maybe cheesecake? Or apple pie?”
“Why not a chocolate cake.” Jane offers, getting the water off of the stove, almost burning herself in the process.
“Do you like chocolate cake?” The younger asks, “I would have pinned you as a vanilla kind of person.”
Jane feels judged. The smile on Katherine’s face just says it all.
“I prefer it, but never mind.” The teenager finishes.
(…)
Here lies Jane, a phoenix / Who died in giving another phoenix birth.
(…)
They move into a new house.
The moment Jane enters her new room, she knows it will take at least two months to get it completely clean. There are spiderwebs, and the white walls look more of a light grey. She makes mental notes to buy bleach, and other cleaning supplies.
At least her bed is clean, but she makes sure it doesn’t touch any wall for the sake of it not getting dirty.
(…)
Jane Seymour was a kind woman too, a better person than Anne.
(…)
“Are we coming to the bar tonight?” Anna asks.
Cleves is nothing less than an interesting character to say the least. They never got to meet in their past lives, but the woman knew her son. She even lived long enough to see him dead.
“I’m not sure,” Jane replies, “I don’t think that Boleyn is going to want me there.”
“But I would want you there.” The fourth queen says easily. “If it’s your decision, that’s alright, but I would like you to come.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
(…)
Her ladies-in-waiting and her maids were held to a strict code of behavior and insisted that they “serve God and be virtuous”.
(…)
The people, and society as a whole has changed.
Feminism is a common term, and women can –almost, to a certain point– hold the same power as men do.
Still, Jane feels more judged than ever. In her past life it was easy, if she did exactly what she was told, nobody would question her. She was bound to serve and obey, and planned to let everyone know about it. Unlike Anne, she was not going to take her chances. She couldn’t say that it brings her happiness, but it gave her peace of mind.
Nobody would contradict the orders of their king.
Nowadays it is different. People talk about freedom, about being able to own yourself, your body, your choices. Nonetheless, they talk about her. Judged her for saying good things about Henry in her speech, for loving him when it was her only choice.
It was her choice to keep her hair long, not like Anna’s. Her choice to wear make-up, to prefer dresses rather than pants. To talk about her son, to own her past. The public sometimes hated her for it, for her decisions, calling them a part of patriarchy leftover from the century in which she used to live.
They hate that she reduces herself to it, to being a mother, to fill what was expected of her, but that is still the only thing they know about her.
(…)
Jane herself was known for her quiet and soothing manner.
(…)
She sometimes sees it; the way Aragon and Boleyn are mothers.
Sometimes it is just a word, a name. Something totally irrelevant that snaps them into it, into caring in a way only mothers do. The way they treat Katherine, or how they look at a little kid on the street. How they talk to the younger fans of the show.
Jane feels like she doesn’t have it. She doesn’t care about babies and kids. Doesn’t have an attachment to them, to the idea of being a mother. If someone handed her a baby she would probably freeze and don’t know how to proceed.
Was it justice? Did she die so Edward wouldn’t have to put through with her as a mother?
Jane thinks she was just not born for that, to have a kid, to care for them. There were women who had maternal instincts, but she didn’t. Instead, when having to tend for Katherine, she grew overwhelmed, not having a clue of what to do next.
(…)
We will never know if Jane sought the king’s favor or was a frightened pawn of her family and the king’s desire.
(…)
“Would you like to go to brunch tomorrow?” Aragon asks one day.
It’s Saturday night, which means she is totally exhausted after a two show day, but still, she nods. Slowly, Aragon and Jane had started to rebuild the good relationship they once had. Both of them holding so much respect for the other.
“Have you seen Kat?” Parr interrupts Jane’s thoughts.
“She was here just a minute ago.” Aragon says, looking around.
“Well, Anne is looking for her and there’s no trace of where she could be.” The survivor explains quickly.
“Let’s look for her.” The first queen concludes, taking action.
They pass fans, excusing themselves, still taking a few pictures just for the sake of fulfilling the stagedoor the queens always did. Once they are out, a cold breeze hits their faces. Walking through the streets seems dangerous, but luckily enough Kat is near, curled up in herself. They signal to Anne and Anna to quickly come with them.
“Kitty, can you hear me?” Anne is fast to get on her knees, getting to be at the same height as Katherine.
“We should take her inside,” Jane states, “it’s not safe here.”
“Outside air can help, Jane.” Boleyn snaps at her. “Kat?”
She wishes she could be mad at her, but at the same time the second queen is just trying to do the best for her cousin. She acts almost instinctive, as if anyone would do that. The way she stays near her, but without invading personal space amazes Jane, even if that decision makes sense. She would’ve tried to pull the younger girl closer, thinking about it makes it seem like not such a good idea, the immediate response to fight or flight after a panic attack wouldn’t help.
“I’m okay.” Her voice is small. “Can we go home?”
Jane nods, and starts walking behind her towards the car. It comes as a surprise the fact that Katherine rides with them, instead of Anne and Anna as she usually does, but they don’t say a thing. She maintains her eyes on the girl, worried about her.
Once they arrive, Katherine is the first to get into the house, leaving the other two queens alone.
“I’m worried about her, should we try to have a talk?” Jane asks, Catherine denies with her head.
“No, we have to just make her trust us,” she says easily, “once she does, if needed she will come to us. Confrontation is mostly not the way to go with teenagers.”
“How do you know that?”
Aragon smiles.
(…)
She was the only one of his wives to be buried next to him.
(…)
If Jane said that she never wanted to be queen, it would be a lie.
The idea always sounded appealing. Who wouldn’t want to be one? Even in a modern context, girls still pretended to be queens, to live in the prettiest castles.  Being queen came with power, not nearly as much as men had, but still a fair amount. The chance to change things, to have opinions. Not counting how good it could be to the family, to secure a future.
Jane would be lying if she ever said that becoming a queen was not something she longed for. But she didn’t want Anne to suffer such a horrible death, no matter if it was or wasn’t fair.
(She used to think that another kind of death wouldn’t be as bad, to die for natural causes would just be God’s will, and to have a divorce would be the Man’s will.
Now she thinks every ending is horrible until proven different.)
In this life she kept quiet about it, knowing how she might have interfered in what Henry ultimately did to Anne. She preferred to not talk about her time as queen, how he threatened her with the same fate her predecessor suffered.
She once thinks about boarding the subject with Parr. She saw that the writer went through the same, a warrant order for her head that was never finished, and the painful death after a childbirth. Still, she doesn’t do so, knowing that her and the survivor are not the same.
Catherine Parr was smart, got her way because of her words. Jane Seymour was just the ignorant fool who kept quiet to please the man.
(…)
The ladies in waiting were expected to wear a belt of pearls with at least 120 pearls in them, and if they didn’t, they weren’t allowed to appear before her.
(…)
“Did you bring something for the cold?” Jane interrogates.
“Yeah, my pink sweater, I left it in the dressing room.” Katherine explains.
“Okay, I will look for it, finish taking your makeup off.” She orders.
The third queen stops staring at the queen, instead looking around. Finding the piece of clothing, she reaches out for it, but winces for a moment when the younger talks.
“Jane, just stop it, okay?” Katherine asks.
“It’s cold, put on a coat or something more, you will catch a cold.” She tried to give the teenager her pink sweater, but all she got was rejection.
“Just don’t. Stop acting as if I’m a child.”
It doesn’t come as a surprise, after all, Katherine usually snapped at her.
“You are nineteen.” Jane indicated, anger bubbling up in her voice.
“I am like almost five hundred years old.” There was bitterness in the statement. “Nobody cared about me being eighteen when the king beheaded me. They didn’t even care when I was younger, why now?”
“Because I care about you.” The words come out before she can really think about it.
Did she really? Cared for the younger?
Of course, she didn’t want harm to come to her, but then again also not to any of all the strangers she knew in this life. Nonetheless there is something about Katherine, an innocence, a broken past. Jane wanted to take care of the girl, to help her through whatever she was going through.
“You shouldn’t.”
It comes out almost aggressive, like a threat. The queen who died of natural causes doesn’t know how to feel about it.
(…)
She learned pretty quickly that it was best to stay out of religion and politics, and instead focused her energy on domestic issues.
(…)
Jane doesn’t break like Katherine, but she still does.
The way Katherine breaks suddenly, they can all point at that moment and say that is when she started changing. Harming herself in not obvious ways, drinking more caffeine than what she should, sleeping less, eating the unhealthiest food she can find. They notice, but their own egos and need to not gossip in order to not be the catty bitches fighting against each other like history has painted stop them from acting as a group.
Instead, the way Jane breaks is slowly, anger destroying her. Consuming every inch of her, growing and taking parts of her life.
It starts as a bitter, indignant feeling when she is left to cook or help cleaning up, but it quickly grows. Gets infuriating, maddening when people call her good . She is not, she might have been in another life, but not in this one. She was not innocent, but rather had a fair amount of guilt. It evolves to be hostile when she realizes that nothing will change it.
Jane Seymour, the mother figure who not only failed at being educated and staying alive, but also failed at having maternal instincts. The good queen, who did nothing but harm. The mother of the king, a king who died young and so did she.
She hates herself for it.
(…)
Her ladies-in-waiting and her maids were held to a strict code of behavior and insisted that they “serve God and be virtuous”.
(…)
She tries to self-isolate, to take a step away.
It doesn’t help, instead the anger comes back stronger each time, and she hates it. Jane hates how violent the feeling can be, how abrasive. She controls herself as she had always done, but it doesn’t make it any better, a resentment towards her fellow queens growing.
Seymour was not a jealous woman, not in her past life and not in this one. She didn’t want to be like the other queens knowing that there were so many things wrong in their lives. It was not about it.
It was about making a mistake, and how she never got to commit those. Jane couldn’t regret anything in her life without someone telling her that “she had it easy”, after all, she was the one he “truly loved”. Even when her problems were addressed, it always came before a way to minimize it, or worse, blame her for them.
The queens knew that it was none of their faults, but people still pinned them against each other, choosing favourites, giving each other a role. And she couldn’t say a word, because hers was good.
It didn’t matter what she truly wanted, or what her opinions about it were, because their mind was made up.
Why change something that is not broken? Why get mad over a good thing? What was better, being a bitch or a saint ?
Jane thinks that being the villain of the story would be easier, liberating. Heroes are just too unreal to exist, but pushing the narrative meant forgetting her own flaws, thoughts, problems.
But who cared?
All they ever wanted was a devoted woman.
(…)
Jane curbed her tongue and accepted her place as the dutiful wife.
(…)
"Can you stop being such a stuck-up child and act mature for a fucking moment?" The third queen asks, becoming irritable, "I just fucking asked you to do one thing. One fucking thing. You are not a toddler, stop throwing a fit!"
It turns out, living up to five hundred years of expectations become harder the angrier you get. The worse the feeling of burning grows, the worse it hurts inside. Jane refuses to let it slide, to let it show, but Anne is not making it any easier.
"Go off, Janey," the green queen laughs, "or chill out, it's not that deep."
"Except, it is." She demands. "I asked you to please do one thing, and it's not the first time. I ask you, you do it for a week, and then forget about it. Are you taking me for an idiot?"
"Honestly? No," she replies easily, "I just don't care enough."
They stay watching each other for a moment.
It brings back memories, but their roles are reversed. In another timeline Jane would be childish, not caring enough, or maybe caring so, so much, about the locket and chain around her neck. Anne would watch her with such a fury in her eyes, and the blonde would internally laugh.
She regrets it. Jane hadn’t seen it coming. The dreadful ending.
“But I know you do; I will try to change it.” Anne answers, her voice just above a whisper.
A soft: “Thank you” it’s all Jane can say.
“You’re welcome, darling .” A playful smirk passes through her lips.
“Bloody idiot.”
“I know.”
Boleyn gives her a sincere smile.
Maybe sometimes yelling is useful.
(…)
It is also true that she was not as sharp or witty as Anne Boleyn.
(…)
It doesn’t last long. Before she knows it, the show must keep going.
Jane smiles, sings her song, sings about Edward. Edward, her Edward. Her brother too, was named Edward. He died. Her brother too, was Thomas. Thomas who did so much wrong. Thomas who apparently loved Parr. Thomas who got sentenced to death.
Thomas and Edward. Thomas. Edward.
She doesn’t realize how much panic creeps in until she is alone in her room crying. An unexpected feeling of grief for the family she once had, as much grief as hate and resentment towards them. Horrible atrocious acts made just for the sake of it.
The Internet says that her son, her little baby, luckily died young.
They talk about luck, something good. And even as much as she wants to believe that her kid won’t ever be a threat, she knows his father. Henry was atrocious, ruthless. Growing under his influence was probably not the ideal childhood. If only she hadn’t died.
Her skin aches, and she has to ground herself controlling her breathing.
Was it possible that every man in her old life was terrible?
(…)
She never seemed to cause drama or do anything without her husband’s permission, and she managed to maintain her carefully crafted image of being virtuous, loyal and obedient.
(…)
“Jane, can we talk?” Aragon questions, knocking on the door.
The blonde nods, slowly looking up.
“What’s going on?” The divorcee asks, rather bluntly. “You stopped coming out of your room, and when you do, it’s just to fight. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m good. Great even.” She smiles.
“Do you think I’m a fool?”
Bloody hell.
Jane doesn’t want to hold this conversation, knowing that she has all the cards to lose it. But at the same time, she wishes to reach out, to explain what is going on. To say that she doesn’t know how to be angry, how to defy someone, how to speak up. All she knows is shouting, crying and hiding her real emotions.
She must conceal what she feels, to not let it show. The less she thinks, the less she feels, the less danger it represents. Jane can’t be the next one. If what happened to Aragon was an awful experience, where she couldn’t see her daughter or talk to her for the last years of her entire life, and Anne’s death was way worse, what is left for her? Torture worse than death.
“ Bonita, breathe with me.” Aragon commands, sitting a hand on Jane’s shoulder in an attempt to ground her. “Jane, breath in. Hold. Breath out.”
“Go away, Catherine, please . ” The queen begs.
“No. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want you here, please .”
“I just want to help.” Catherine says, trying to get closer.
“Why don’t you try and help yourself first? I know I’m dumb, but even I can notice what you do, Catherine.” Her voice becomes steady. “Why are you so obsessed with fixing people? Is this because you couldn’t fix Mary from the monster she became?”
The venom in her words acts quickly, Catherine’s face changing in a few moments. First a pained expression, then developing hurt. She stands up from the bed, and Jane rage rises.
“Why can’t you just keep for yourself, Aragon?” She expels the name. “Is that because you don’t know us? Is this a trick? I know you loved him, is this your way to check us as competition? Or just because you want to see which one of us can take the blame for what happened with baby Mary?”
Catherine stays silent. Humble and loyal after all.
“I told you I wanted you gone.” Jane finishes.
“And I told you, you need help. You should seek it before it becomes too late.”
(…)
Jane’s son Edward was at best a useless boy-king, and at worst a divisive religious extremist who disinherited his sisters.
(…)
Maybe no other queen truly understands her.
Or maybe she doesn’t understand the others.
How Anne talks about her beheading makes it sound like a celebration, a great day everyone was looking forward. She talks about how people cheered, even if it sounds mostly like an old tale made by people who hated her. Jane doesn’t try to tell the truth. She hides it in her silence, just like she hid from Henry.
She should. She should make it better for Anne, but a part of her can’t do so. Can’t bring herself to tell the truth. To confront the other queen. She can’t break the need to be perfect, the need to be good, and innocent.
Talking to Boleyn would be an admission of guilt she is not ready to commit.
(…)
Jane Seymour fulfilled her most important duty as queen, but she was never crowned and died just twelve days after the long and arduous birth.
(…)
Catherine is distant, which shouldn’t surprise her.
Asking for help sounds like a trap. She can’t trust anyone. Even if she knows how much it would change things, even if she doesn’t feel like the queens would hate her or judge her, deep inside something tells her they will. And she can’t allow that.
She can’t break the idea of being perfect after fighting so much for it in the past.
(…)
The fact that she had died producing Henry’s only surviving male heir gave her a mythic near-martyr status in his eyes, and he would do creepy things like having her appear in a family portrait eight years after her death (and not even as a zombie or vampire, much to my dismay).
(…)
“Why are you here?” Her therapist asks.
Wasn’t being a reincarnated Tudor queen who died after giving birth to the next king of England enough reason to be?
“I think I’m having problems with being impulsive, and out of control, and managing my emotions.”
“Which emotions would this be?”
“I’m not sure.”
“It’s good that you are looking for help, Jane.” The woman says.
She takes the files and starts asking more questions, Jane finds herself being more honest than in a long time.
After the session she feels happier, lighter.
(…)
Let’s get down to business and look at just why Jane was in fact not a cute little wifey BUT a calculating master manipulator.
(…)
It doesn’t last long, and that is what hurts the most.
Feeling good for a moment just to then descend into the pain of unbelievable sadness that invades her. Not knowing how to handle it, making her go slowly mad.
It makes her think of her death.
Everything was good, happy, easy. But then it started going bad, failing. Her own body, organs shutting down, fever, agony. A pain in her chest that barely leaves her breathing. Death coming to her. And sometimes she feels it again.
Short, confused breath. A weight so heavy on her chest. Her thoughts all over the place. Death creeping on her. Her psychologist calls it a panic attack, stress coming to her. And she doesn’t know how to react to the idea that it’s just her brain. Drowning in thoughts, so deep that she can’t see the surface.
(…)
That’s two Queens brought back into the folds of power, a feat Jane achieved in just 6 months, thanks to her skill at manipulating Henry without him even realizing.
(…)
Anna doesn’t come to her, just the contrary. Jane tries to help.
Watching the queen crumbling down, makes her feel smaller. Just the contrary to her stage presence. This Anna is not partying, no joking. She is broken. Not a unidimensional character that they pull each night. Cleves has kept a mask for so long, that is just now breaking.
Jane can’t help but wonder if they all do. But it’s different. Jane had always been allowed to be sad, to cry, to be sensible and weak, while Anna never had that privilege. Each role assigned to them had their good and bad parts.
“We might not be great. I know I’m not. But we are here for you. We are all in this.”
“Do you really mean it?” The fourth queen asks.
She doesn’t doubt it. It’s just the way it worked, everyone had their places, what they tried to fulfil. It was harder on some of them. To keep or to destroy what they were. Create a new self being idyllic, impossible.
“Of course, I do.” Jane smiles.
(…)
Jane was not beautiful. She was not outspoken, or alluring, or exotic.
(…)
An article said he was sick for months. That he died slowly, painfully.
Her son had died when still young. And she never held his hand. She wonders if he was scared. If he thought what death might have felt like. Sometimes it keeps her up at night, her sick son who had to lay in a bed. Who she can’t help.
She wasn’t scared of death, as she never quite understood, fever coming to her, letting her slowly go. Making her confused, as she didn’t understand if she died until she came back.
What was better? To go without knowing or to stay knowing that the ultimate end is near?
Jane used to be catholic, used to devote herself to religion. But since she came back it all feels like a lie, an elaborated truth that kept her from making errors. Still, for his supposed last words, she hopes God had mercy on him.
(…)
Nobody wants an unfun queen.
(…)
“Jane, may I sit with you?”
The older nods, making space on the sofa. Katherine practically jumps to the spot but doesn’t relax until Jane opens her arms for the girl to get into the embrace. They stay like that for a few moments, just enjoying each other’s company.
They had managed to somehow have a good relationship. Maybe because Jane never feels as if Katherine judges. Maybe because Katherine never met her in life. Maybe because they know the least about their past. It somehow brings them closer.
“Is everything alright, sweetheart?” The third queen wonders.
She keeps in mind Aragon’s words, if Katherine feels safe enough, she will open up. Slowly the changes had been more noticeable, especially after starting therapy.
Maybe it’s the need to be a mother, maybe it’s just the way Katherine can charm anyone, with shy smiles and childish glee.
“I feel bad.” Katherine admits. “I… I have tried to ignore things and I just feel guilty about it.”
Jane nods, knowing what the feeling is about. Remorse is an even more common feeling in the queens’ household than it is probably in others.
Maybe they are both broken.
“What about?” She wonders.
Maybe it’s just meant to be.
“They beheaded the woman who helped me.” Katherine admits. “They beheaded her too.”
Maybe it’s because they both feel the blood on their hands.
“But it wasn’t your fault. You can’t make yourself responsible for others’ actions.” Jane confirms.
“I never cried. Since I came back, I never cried for her. I just pushed it to the back of my mind, acted as if it did not happen.” Her eyes water. “She died for me. And I am back, and she is not. I still don’t try to bring those memories back.”
“Some emotions need time.” The older one tries to explain. “Grief it’s not lineal, there’s denial, there’s guilt.”
“She didn’t deserve it.”
“You didn’t either. But you can honour her. We have a second chance, something impossible.”
“What are you using your second chance for?” Katherine wonders.
Jane doesn’t have an answer.
(…)
Jane Seymour: (shrug) enh.
(…)
Sometimes talking with fans is easier. They comment about the play with blissful glee, about the shiny costumes and loud music. Some go as far as making copies of her costume, to draw her, to write letters. They still don’t know her fully and they mostly don’t care to find out.
Jane can’t help but wonder if Edward ever felt love like that, blind, from someone who doesn’t know who you are. She can’t help but wonder what her son knew of her, because he never met her. She didn’t get to really meet him either, but she has Anna, who sometimes would drop a funny story of a young king, Katherine who remembers a little boy, and Catherine who talks about how smart he was.
She hopes that he had someone to tell him her story.
(…)
In her entire 18 months as queen, Jane Seymour failed to say one single thing that anybody thought was worth preserving for the future.
(…)
“Catherine, can we talk?” Jane asks.
The first queen nods sternly, sitting in front of her. Even though their relationship had been less tense since she started therapy a while ago, things were still not quite resolved within them.
“Yes, I’m sorry.” Catherine starts. “I shouldn’t have pushed, specifically not when I told you not to push Katherine.”
“No, it’s alright.” The blonde smiles. “Katherine shouldn’t be pressured, that’s true. But we are different. I didn’t understand what you were trying to do but now I do. And I’m sorry. I have been realizing things slowly and it’s just a matter of time until I will feel better again.”
“Penny for your thoughts?” The first queen asks.
“It’s the idea of being perfect. To fill in my own shoes. To comply, and obey and serve. You knew me before, and you know me now, but I just feel so much responsibility to be who people think I am. I talk about how I stayed, firm by his side, but in reality, I didn’t. I was scared. I am scared. And it’s such a weird feeling, because it drives me to do the exact opposite thing of what I try to do. My death was just something that happened, but I can’t help and think that I was lucky to have died. Who knows what could’ve been of me otherwise?”
“You don’t have to be perfect.”
“But I do.” Jane replies. “It’s just my place, and I’m a character. I just have to learn where and when I should be myself.”
“Are you sure? No one is expecting anything.”
“They are. And it’s okay. They want it, the love story, the tragic ending. I wish it was like that, but it was not. But I’m going to be fine, because I’m pretty tough. And it doesn’t come from screaming, being the loudest or the most anything. It comes from me, and I don’t have to prove it to anyone else.”
(…)
Or, god forbid, are you a fan of the insufferable Jane Fucking Seymour?
(…)
“I might miss some foods from the past, but I love this.” Anne said happily, devouring some chocolate lentils.
“Stop it! I want some too.” Her almost namesake replied, trying to take some.
“Anna, don’t worry about chocolate and help me pick a movie.” Parr insists. “I saw that this one was good, this account said that they used a new kind of animation to do it. Created a new program and all.”
Jane smiles, laughing lightly at Catherine who can’t keep facts for herself. Each time it becomes better, less superior talking and more nerdy, passionate about useless knowledge.
“Whatever you choose, please let it be short, I’m so tired tonight.” Aragon asks.
“That one is ninety minutes long.” Katherine offers.
The third queen sits, gossiping about the plot
(…)
So, don’t overlook Jane. Sure she’s quiet, but remember it’s the quiet ones you have to watch.
(…)
Second chances were overrated, that much could be said for Jane Seymour.
Sometimes, people don’t change, themselves or their minds. In her two lives, she dealt with it all. With trying and not, with fighting and keeping quiet, with being looked up to and with being irrationally disliked. Society, as a whole, would never be pleased. Setting standards too high, as much as those vary from time to time, from one century to the other, there was always going to be something wrong.
But it didn’t mean she had to just follow it.
Second chances were overrated, wasting hers into demonstrating things to anyone except herself. The general opinion might not change, but Jane does. She learns, grows. She cries, gets sick and has horrible days, she fights, speaks out, she loves, she smiles. It’s hard, to live a life she shouldn’t have, but it means that is her opportunity, not to be revolutionary, not to be a queen nor a mother.
Jane learns to be herself, to explore, to know her limits. And it never ends.
Second chances were overrated, but it doesn’t mean that Jane was going to try and make the best out of hers.  Maybe it is boring, or naïve to not try to take an impossible opportunity, but she doesn’t need it. To be true to herself is more than just enough.
23 notes · View notes
pcrdue · 4 years
Text
Tumblr media
[ DEMET ÖZDEMIR, CIS FEMALE, SHE/HER. ]    hey, isn’t that ESME CULLEN ? just the other day i saw them roaming around forks ! i know they look like a normal 28 / 125 year old, but i heard a rumor that they’re actually a VAMPIRE & are always hanging around with THE OLYMPIC COVEN. weird, right ? i wonder if they know anything about all the deaths that have been going on. anyways, i knew it was them ‘cause they reminded me of the feeling of coming home, you will never find anyone as trusting or as kind, the soothing scratch of charcoal against paper & endless stacks of books.
hello !! i’m mari and my twilight obsession is eternal !! exactly, i read midnight sun and my feels for the cullen fam returned with vengeance, that’s why i am here. this time i’m bringing you two characters, the best vampire mom ever ( esme cullen ) and ancient sad vampire ( marcus ). this is esme’s intro, marcus’ will follow shortly. i am truly excited to get to writing with all of you, so please hit that heart button and i’ll come bother you !! 
tw: relationship abuse, death, suicide
esme anne platt was born in 1895 in columbus, ohio. her parents had desperately wanted a son, a someone to take over the farm after her father would grow old, but instead they had to settle with a daughter. she never had a warm relationship with her father, mostly due to that disappointment, and her mother didn’t understand her, either. she was a lively child, always exploring and eager to play.
she spent most of her childhood outdoors, creating her own worlds and searching for anything exciting and new. school was alright but staying in one place was sometimes far too tedious. she didn’t quite fit into the mold of a proper daughter – she was too mischievous and imaginative.
one day, when she was 18 years old, there was a thunderstorm outside. she wanted to see it closer, so she climbed a tree to see it better. when the lightning struck, it startled her badly enough for her to fall from the tree and subsequently break her leg.
the pain has faded from her memories but she never really forgot the kind doctor who healed her leg. he treated her with respect and seemed to actually listen to what she had to say. men like that were rare and she was truly impressed. sadly he soon moved out of town, but the memory of him stayed with her.
she wanted to become a teacher, but her parents wouldn’t allow it. instead she was pressured by her parents to marry. she didn’t particularly want that, especially not with the man they had chosen to her, but in attempt to please her parents, she went ahead with their plan.
her marriage to charles evenson was far from a successful one – he was abusive and didn’t like his wife’s antics. the marriage quickly transformed esme from a cheerful young woman into a miserable, dispassionate wreck.
when he was drafted, esme’s life momentarily improved. but when he returned, despite all her prayers, she realized nothing good would come from staying. soon after his return, she found out that she was pregnant. that solidified her decision to leave.
she took most of his savings and fled columbus, ending up in ashville. it was easy enough to claim that she was a war widow trying to start a new life for herself and her unborn child. she even began working as a teacher, fulfilling her childhood dream.
she quickly started to love her unborn child more than anything else, so when he died only two days after his birth, it destroyed her entire world.
she had nothing to live for, not after her son was no longer alive. in her desperation, she attempted suicide by jumping off a cliff.
she was brought straight to the morgue, deemed a lost cause. yet she was still barely alive. she knew death wasn’t far, so when she saw carlisle in her final moments of consciousness, she simply thought he was an angel. it made perfect sense at the time.
though in the middle of her transformation, so much like she imagined hell to be, he might as well been a demon.
she woke up for the last time, confused and in pain. it was strange and the first months were intensely difficult. yet she was content with her new life – she quickly started to consider carlisle and edward as her family.
it wasn’t at all surprising when she found herself falling in love with carlisle. when the feelings were reciprocated, it felt like all her dreams were finally coming true.
as their family has grown, so has esme’s happiness. sometimes she can be a bit overbearing to her adoptive children, but she truly loves them and only wants them to be safe. if they’re happy, she’s happy.
after that rant of an intro, here’s some trivia that i somehow didn’t include in the rant part:
unlike in the books, my version of esme actually leaves the house? regularly attends whitney’s mom’s garden parties, volunteers at the kindergarten and brings the best cakes to the bake sales.
edward is her favorite, though she would never say it out loud. these days bella is her favorite simply by existing.
lowkey obsessed with anything art-related, has a couple of degrees in that field (architecture, interior design, art history...), though prefers painting.
kind-hearted and believes in people. loves easily and with her whole heart. the og mom vampire
4 notes · View notes
san-station · 4 years
Text
A Quiet Place AU / ATEEZ (Post-apocalyptic)
Chapter 6
Tumblr media
↝Word count: 3.6k
Description: In a world full of silence and dangerous creatures seeking for blood, a group of friends have to survive for their own good and find the safe place they've heard about months ago.
Pairing: San x OC
WARNING: mention of death, depression, cursing.
・・・・・・・・
With every storm, there’s a rainbow somewhere.
It’s pretty odd to say that after Misuk’s death, the #439 day began as a peaceful day. That Monday Mingi, Wooyoung and Yeosang walked around the periphery recollecting some vegetables that were on our garden behind the old building, I joined a couple hours later just grabbed some fruits and keep an eye on the boys. We talked about how vegetables tasted better than ever and Mingi tried to figure out if the reason was some kind of radioactive answer. Wooyoung tried to hold his sharp laugh eating tons of strawberries, they tained his teeth red for six hours. We also found two raccoon bodies smashed in the middle of the tomatoes, so we figured we had to be more careful outside the building to prepare the runaway. Meanwhile, Yeosang and I recollected some carrots and oranges, the tension between us was visible, we made eye contact three times and the three times I almost growled at him, still mad about last night. I was trying to distract myself from the events of the day before with them, but the thoughts were only intensify by the animal blood near the garden. 
At night, we had dinner indoors, most of the guys were chatting about the few days we had in there, remaking a new plan for us to start heading to our supposed new home, Wonderland. However, Seonghwa seemed too caught up on his own world that he didn’t even touch his fish or veggies; and if stares could burn you, Seonghwa caught me staring at him. The worrying look on my face made him give me a smile to put an ease to my thoughts, he started to eat after I gulped a glass of water and gesture him swallow everything on his plate. I knew he was as affected as I was, maybe even more. Hongjoong had told us he felt guilty for not being able to protect Misuk when he was the strongest between the three of us, it made no sense if he also would’ve been killed. 
Things turned a little tense when Wooyoung mentioned our discovery on the tomatoes garden. 
"You're not allowed to go outside again this week", Hongjoong had said to me when I washed the dishes. He thought that my scent could have probably attracted the creatures near our house. I agreed bluntly as Mingi hugged my back and reassure that everything would be okay. 
On Tuesday, Yunho, Wooyoung and Jongho prepared an incredible meal with the supplies we brought, the amused moment was when they realized they couldn't cook without Seonghwa, who was out fixing a fissure in the water pipe, it was caused by that time when Wooyoung went to bathroom. Yeah, he was right, that shit was pretty messy. Literally.  I really wanted to go with him but he agreed to go by himself because “he was okay alone”. Saying I was hurt was an understatement… By the end of the day, I took care of gathering some supplies for our road trip, organized our food, water, clothes, pills and guns. We were obligated to dominate the art of shooting and targeting stuffs, luckily, we used them once in the forest yet we didn’t like to use them due to obvious reasons: noise. 
Anyway, as for San and Hongjoong, they never got out of the oldest bedroom till it was night time. San was carrying a notebook and some papers down his armpits while he grabbed a cup of the black coffee I made for Hongjoong and gave me a flash smile. Sometimes, San and I smiled at each other from time to time when our eyes met for too long, but he still was an idiot with big ego trying to make me mad at everything he did. I wasn’t sure of that new attitude of his, but it was better than his stearn and cold eyes.
On Wednesday, we all played Monopoly and remained in the basement for safety, if raccoons died the day before, we had to be aware of anything. So, we ended up hating Hongjoong and his fucking cute laugh as he robbed all of our money when we stepped in all his properties, Mingi kept fake-crying for an entire hour as Hongjoong took his little red houses from the spots he bought and he placed his purple buildings instead. Yeosang, Mr. Corrupt Bank, smiled devilish as he handed Hongjoong the last few dollars of the game. That little bastard knew how to play or he was a mastermind on cheating. San almost punched him and almost threw the game board as he perished in the jail longer than anyone else. We laughed till our bellies hurt, until our eyes cried, until our cheeks felt hot and our backs collided on the basement floor. The tension around us for the last three days faded away in that exact minute, we were just a group of young adults fooling around with our friends and classmates before Kihwang would come from his Art History class and would yell at us to start running over the place. But he never came, and we never ran, and all that we once knew as a normal life became a living hell as we played seek and hide with some freaking aliens. What a plot twist, bro. 
On Thursday, I made a peace alliance with Yeosang, not because either of us wanted to, we had to clean the basement with Seonghwa while the others were risking their lives outside looking for some fishy delight; before they left, Hongjoong made us pretty clear that we had to “put our shit together or else…”, we didn’t want to know the or else..., so we established that we had to figure how to stop looking for each other's throats and befriend one more time. Seonghwa was the mediator, so everything went just fine after some cursing, death wishes, some tears and a hug.
The guys came back three hours later, the river was near the abandoned city so the walk would be tedious. By the time they opened the basement door, Yeosang and Seonghwa were having a big discussion about a puppet show they started to put a smile on our faces.  After cleaning, I was worrying sick about everyone not coming home, so Yeosang thought it might be a good distraction. The show included my fluffy cat, Yeosang’s stuffed turtle, Seonghwa's big red Angry Bird character and San’s puppy, Shiber. 
“She has to marry Private Ryan”, Seonghwa grabbed his fluffy bird and placed my cat next to it. Yeosang frowned, grabbed the cat and placed it next to his turtle.
“Ehm, no, she has to marry Larry”.
“No one wants to marry Larry, Yeosang”, Seonghwa spoke as he, once again, took Manny, the cat, and put it aside the animals. I was staring at them the whole time sipping a glass of water in silence because I've already tried to speak and they almost ate me alive. They decided to have “fun” trying to create some kind of bad soap opera, oblivious that the real drama was getting closer and closer. 
“Fuck you, everyone wants to marry Larry, even Private Ryan”, Yeosang looked offended and hugged his turtle as if it was alive, he was trying to calm Larry down by caressing its shell. 
“How could anyone marry him? He’s too slow for this, the cat needs some real man that can fly her away from monsters”, the black haired man logically explained and grinn when he watched me hiding a smile. It seemed that the main characters didn't realize the boys were there, waiting for some answers about the childish show. San looked exhausted thought. Despites the arguments for my kitten marrying the turtle or the bird, San walked to the couch I was sat on, grabbed Shiber and Manny and sat next to me, interrupting the play. 
 “Let’s finish this”, he started, “Manny and Shiber are engaged, I don’t even know why you guys are fighting for. Besides, Private Ryan is gonna be the best man and Larry will be the flower boy, now shut up and let them be happy forever so we can rest on our beds, we're pretty tired and I need silence", San made the kitten and his little dog kissed for a second while he looked dead serious with his knitted eyebrows. Then, his features relaxed when a giggle escaped my lips and I covered my mouth with the back of my hand. San’s eyes stared at me with the edges of his mouth barely up and handed the plushies to me. I let the glass or water aside and hugged them together. Seonghwa gasped and Yeosang just glared at San’s Shiber. San stood up and left the living room with Wooyoung side by side, he had the biggest Joker smile I’ve ever seen and kind of creeped me out. 
The puppet show was over and we had a great dinner with the fishes they hunted. San let me sleep with Shiber as he now was Manny’s husband. What can I say? It was childish but cute. But suddenly, sleeping between Hongjoong and Seonghwa made me shiver, the warmth of the room disappeared slowly as my body lacked from the human contact. When my eyes opened, I was welcomed with pure loneliness and a cold room, I frowned. It was 2:35 AM according to my wristwatch, yet, I still could hear whispers coming from the living room, they were still taking about the trip. I was exhausted from the cleaning so I didn't think too much and closed my eyes one more time. I snuggled with Shiber between my arms the rest of the night. 
Now it was Friday, I spent the entire day inside my room due to cramps, in the end of the world a woman still has to survive that pain. My head was killing me and I hesitated everytime I wanted to go outside for some air or a glass of water; however, Hongjoong and Seonghwa made sure to warned out the guys to be careful when they came around my room to not cause any problem and disturb my susceptible self. I would eat them alive if they try to argue with me in that state. I could also sense that something was going on, or perhaps I was delusional and craving for some sweet, but they kept they guard on when I started to ask about what they were doing or how was the plan. Hongjoong tensed while he put the cup of tea next to the bed and Seonghwa was the first to approach. 
"Did you not sleep here?", I asked after they avoided the previous question. “I think I had another nightmare, you know, about day 1…” 
"We've been talking with the guys about the next move", the raven boy said and smiled. "Don't worry about us, take the rest of the day." 
"Yeosang sends his iPod", Hongjoong handed it with the headphones and kissed my head. "We'll talk later, Ji. You stay here and rest", then, they were gone, leaving me with Yeosang’s shuffle playlist. I didn’t ask anything else, however, a strange feeling inside my chest kept me uneased all day.
On Saturday I was ready to left the room, I was feeling a little bit better than the day before, moreover, the boys were cautious about my movements and talking.   
“Do you need anything, Ji?”, Mingi asked patting my hair with a soft smile on his face. I returned the gesture touching his well-fitted chest and crunch my nose.
“I’m okay, Mingi, it’ll be over soon”, I assured him as he engulfed me in his strong and long arms. 
“I’m happy I didn’t born as a woman.” 
That was all he said before I killed him with my own hands. Well, actually I punched him a little and made him my slave for all day long. Another odd thing was that Jongho finally talked to me, he looked very sad, thought, but it was an improvement. 
“Here are some pills Misuk always asked when she felt bad”, he handed me a little ziploc with five white pills.
“Oh… thank you, Jongho”, I gave him a quick smile and went to the kitchen.
 I stuck to Hongjoong’s side all day since I wanted to be aware of the expedition. Unexpectedly, he was acting weird, he had a certain manner to handle things sometimes and now he was avoiding my gaze, he rather talk about everything but the trip road, he even ordered me to go and paint some animals on the fourth floor after lunch when Yeosang called him to set up some kind of loose ends on the plan. He almost yelled at me when I insisted on helping with the route map, that’s what I’m talking about, that mullet boy never acted like that. I knew I fucked up with Misuk’s murder, yet it increased the continuous torment of the voices inside my head blaming me all over again. I wasn’t ready for him to demonstrate such an attitude about my culpability, thus I stopped and went to my painting room as all the eyes in the place watched my walk of shame. 
On Sunday every racional part of me started to fall apart. I woke up earlier than the boys, it was pretty unusual if I said. I made breakfast for all, some dumplings, fruits and a hella great coffee, maybe I thought it could be some payment to them for bearing my behavior; before anyone could see me, I grabbed my backpack, filled it with a bottle of water, a few dumplings and fruits, a blanket, some sunlight, my gun and Jongho’s pills. 
 I left the basement and went up to the fourth floor of the building, the sun started to rise from the window with its orange light and I smiled at it, I welcomed it with the few energy I had. It felt nostalgic, the quiet floor sometimes could be scary as hell, after all, I was alone in a building where no one would hear my screams from down earth. Moreover, while I put more and more space between the boys and myself, it started to feel like I wasn’t entirely alone, a thread connected us as we became a family after everything we’ve been through. Families fight, families made peace, I just needed a few hours away to understand that I was being skeptical over them hiding things, important things. And I knew we were going on the road the next day, but my chest ached with discomfort and concern due to Hongjoong’s distrust in my capacity to separate my feelings from our main mission: Wonderland. The tables had turned, I was so worry about Jongho being the one affected, but at the end it was only me and my persisting mouth. 
My hands weren’t able to draw a thing, they were rigid, inflexible, unable to even paint a curve. So my feet took me to the rooftop when the sun was finally set up in the sky, saluting with warmth and happiness that I couldn’t feel either. I put some sunlight while I rested on the floor and closed my eyes. The bright light kept my dreams from the shadows as my mind traveled to a parallel world where everything around me glowed, where my body felt loose, like floating through the space in the quietness of the periphery. My chest went up and down as I took deep breaths and a minute later I was fully relaxed, no worries on my minds, no negative thoughts about blood, or death, or sorrow, or guilt...  With every storm, there’s a rainbow somewhere, it just wasn’t raining any time soon. After a minute or two, the slumber won the battle between anxiety and disappointment and I submerged in the glowing sea of hope and dreams that onces were reachable in the impossible now. 
A few hours later, a big shadow blinded the bright sun and made me open my eyes a bit faster than usual, the blurry figure was looking at me from above with a tense jaw and fisting hands.
“How long have you been here?”, the man signed abruptly and my eyebrows knitted.
“What do you mean?”, I raised my back up a little and sat slowly, for a few seconds dizziness invaded my sight and I blinked severely as Hongjoong’s face became visible.
“Did you not see the time, Jiyeong?”, then I looked around. The sky was still light up but little shiny stars started to show up as minutes passed by. How long did I sleep? I was sure my nightmares depravated me without a good rest, but I wasn’t aware of how tired I really was. 
“We thought you’ve left a while ago”, again, he moved his hands harshly and it didn’t matter if we were quiet, his face expressed the anger he was holding inside. 
“Couldn’t you look up in here?”, I got up on my two feet and dust off my clothes. “Even so, why would I leave without you? I was waiting till you had your breakfast to go downstairs and finally began the travel”.
“We already had lunch, Jiyeong, it’s been seven hours…”, I was taken by surprise realizing how much I was off, my skin felt warm due the sun but it didn’t hurt too much. “Don’t do that again, okay? We-… I thought...”, Hongjoong sighed and bit his lip.
“What? That I’ll leave you just because you’re being a dick to me? Nah, I’m too rational to know that we need to stick together no matter what.”
He avoided my eyes one more time and I finally snapped. I approached him, grabbed the collar of his jacket harshly, making him stumbled in his own feet. Anger boiled my blood as my body reacted without warning. My knuckles were white as the strength I put on my hold was too much for myself. Hongjoong’s eyes were wide open and his mouth partly opened startled, we never had an encounter like that before and me being aggressive was never on my mind, yet I couldn’t stand it anymore. 
Suddenly, I let Hongjoong’s jacket go and signed with pure wrath.
“I’m tired of your shit, Hongjoong. All I’m trying to do is help you with the trip and here you are, treating me like I was some kind of girl that is too scared to hear men talk. I’m tired of being left alone. You realized I wasn’t in the basement like a minute ago and don’t try to lie to me”, Hongjoong was perplexed trying to catch up with my fast movements. He raised his hands and I shook my head. “You thought I was inside the bedroom after I cooked your breakfast just because you’re so caught up with the fucking plan that you don’t understand how shitty I felt this week. I know you don’t trust me, but don’t hide value information when we are a fucking team, Hongjoong…”
 I was panting, the thumping of my heart almost scared me, was it that loud? Would the creatures listen to it? Hongjoong’s dumbfounded face was a poem, he just stood there looking right through me and I stood there, letting him. Two minutes later, he signed.
“This is the first time you said Hongjoong too many times instead of Joong, so… I assume I really upset you”, he pressed his hands on his temples, passed it through his hair and stepped closer to hug me tighter than ever. I didn’t return the gesture, not even when I really needed to hold him. When he noticed, he sighed one more time and let me go. 
“I’m so sorry… it’s just that San and I’ve been changing some things we already had planned before the incident with Misuk and we had to arrange things by putting you too much pressure, most of us are against the idea of lending you such demands when Seonghwa is as well going through it…”, his sad eyes showed how anxious he was, he cupped my face with his hands and caressed my cheeks. A ghost smile appeared on my face and made him grin in victory. 
“This is not the first time we’ve faced dead friends or family, Joong. I’m stronger than this, it just happened to bring back old bad memories, that’s all”, I signed and shrugged, not wanting to think about them after my seven hours sleep.
“That’s all…”, he signed in response. He pressed his lips together as he squeezed my shoulders and stepped back. His eyes looked around quickly with a bothered gaze. “What if we talked inside? It’s getting darker and I- we need you safe…”, Hongjoong grabbed the bag on the floor,opened the rooftop’s door for me and extended his hand for me to hold it. 
“Only if you agree to make some of that horrible tea for me before we go…”, I crossed my arms over my chest and stopped a meter away from him. The mullet boy’s grin fainted and he swallowed hard, that made me frowned. But before I could ask, he nodded with a smile, hold my hand and made me follow him to the basement. A cup of tea wasn’t going to stop me from demanding answers, not when I could tell that something was disturbing him; after all, we were ready to leave the place that day and nothing could stop us, at least nothing that I was aware of.
(...)   
Masterlist
25 notes · View notes