#is one of those little details that adds such a layer of intimacy to their relationship

[denimbex1986]

'When you lose someone close to you, you’re left haunted not only by their sudden absence but also by what will never be. Few things nag at a person more than the things they wish they’d said, and when mortality gets involved, those unspoken conversations tend to ring even louder in your ears.

It’s hard not to let the weight of what you’ve lost hold you in place, and few films understand that better than All of Us Strangers. The Andrew Haigh-directed drama offers a decidedly non-traditional twist on a ghost story, one that prioritizes moments of profound emotional catharsis and personal reckonings. It was one of the best films to hit theaters in 2023, and now that it’s streaming on Hulu it deserves your attention.

Based on a 1987 novel by Taichi Yamada, All of Us Strangers follows Adam (Andrew Scott), a gay screenwriter whose isolated London life is upended when he decides to take an impromptu trip to his hometown. When he arrives, he discovers the ghosts of his long-dead mother and father (Claire Foy and Jamie Bell) residing in his childhood home as if nothing had ever happened to them. Adam’s inexplicable reunion with his parents prompts a series of return visits and conversations, all of which force him to grapple with the loneliness of his life.

They also give him the chance to come out to his parents, which he never got to do before they were lost in a car accident when he was 12. That detail adds a layer of thorniness that makes Adam’s interactions with his parents all the more compelling. A kitchen conversation between him and his mother, for instance, takes a rough, fascinating turn when she reacts to his coming out with responses and ideas tied to the 1980s, the decade she perished. The scene, beautifully played by Foy and Scott, makes it heartbreakingly clear how little their relationship was allowed to evolve before she was torn from his life.

A subsequent scene between Scott and Bell also seems destined to end badly when Adam doesn’t hesitate to call his father out on all the ways he failed him as a child. But then things take a sharp turn toward the cathartic when Bell’s frozen-in-time specter apologizes for ignoring and downplaying his son’s adolescent pain. This moment paves the way for Adam and his parents to start coming to terms with the time they lost.

In a later scene, Foy’s mother discreetly apologizes to her son by singing along to the Pet Shop Boys’ cover of “Always on My Mind” (Maybe I didn’t hold you / All those lonely, lonely times / And I guess I never told you / I am so happy that you’re mine). In another, she and Adam lie in bed and discuss everything they would have done together had they been given the chance, like getting into a fight while on a trip to Disneyland. “Did we make up?” Adam’s mother asks. “We didn’t need to make up. It was enough to know that we got to come home together,” he responds. If the tears hadn’t already started, they’ll be pouring by the time All of Us Strangers reaches these moments.

All of Us Strangers supplements Adam’s parents with a seemingly unrelated love story between Adam and his neighbor, Harry (Paul Mescal). For much of the film, their scenes of physical and emotional intimacy ground the movie in a kind of sensual materiality, but it isn’t long before Haigh further blurs the lines between reality and fantasy, and past and present. The film’s second half features numerous dreamlike images, like a train window reflection of a younger Adam frozen in a perpetual wail of pain, that visualize the haunting emotions he feels as he desperately tries to find a place for himself in the land of the living.

For many members of the queer community, All of Us Strangers’ story of isolation, loneliness, and eventual freedom will be all too familiar. More than anything, though, it’s the film’s emotional frankness that allows it to land with force. The greatest gift it gives Adam isn’t the chance to see his parents again, but to say everything he’s had to keep bottled up for 30 years. Everyone’s dreamed about speaking to someone they love with the same unbridled honesty that All of Us Strangers’ characters do, and there’s an intense comfort to be found in watching them slowly patch up the wounds that have been hurting them for so long.'

#Hulu #All of Us Strangers #Andrew Scott #Paul Mescal #Andrew Haigh #Taichi Yamada #Claire Foy #Jamie Bell #Always on My Mind #Pet Shop Boys

[gen1920]

Has the social significance of lip gloss dialed down since the 90's?

I was looking through some op-eds to do my rhetorical analysis on for my rhetoric class, when I stumbled upon Jessica Bennett's “Meghan Markle, Kate Middleton and…Lip Gloss?” published on The New York Times. The op-ed started out with Jessica Bennett explaining how she even thought of talking about the Meghan Markle and Kate Middleton fiasco.

To give a little recap to those who do not know what went down in 2018, Meghan Markle during a royal event forgot to bring her lip gloss and asked her sister-in-law, Kate Middleton, if she could borrow some of her lip gloss. Kate Middleton apparently made a face and hesitated to allow Meghan to borrow her lip gloss. According to Prince Harry, Kate reacted this way because sharing your lip gloss is an "American thing."

So what exactly is so American about sharing our lip gloss? In Jessica Bennett's op-ed, she touches on how her experiences growing up in the 90's helps her give insight on why Meghan Markle (someone who was born and raised in California) would ask to use Kate's lip gloss.

In Bennett's op-ed, she goes into detail about her lip gloss experience in the 90's and how lip gloss effected her social life along with other girls from that time. She goes on to say "I used vanilla lip gloss that was in a big tub, and I genuinely think it raised my social status,” one 40-something friend told me." The rest of the article goes onto heavy detail about different lip gloss flavors and stories of how lip gloss was shared in the 90's in order to rank yourself and your friends in your own social hierarchy which was mentioned in the article, "Lip gloss was more than makeup; it was a tool for discerning your place in the social hierarchy. Girls you’d share your lip gloss with: those were your ride-or-dies. " By the end of the article Bennett, although justifying Meghan asking for the lip gloss due to their shared social norm of sharing lip gloss, tries to justify the hesitation of Kate when asked to share something like lip gloss when she adds "We’re all adults now and perhaps have more respect for hygiene than we once did..."

My question is if in present American culture, sharing lip gloss is a taboo? Something left in the 90's for millennials to reminisce? I decided to take on the same approach as Bennett's in her op-ed in order to give millennials an inside scoop of how lip gloss is used in present times.

I graduated high school a year ago, therefore a lot of my lip gloss wearing and sharing days is far from over. I wasn't one of those girls who loved to wear makeup to school, in fact it wasn't until recently that I started to actively try and go buy myself some makeup. The sticky and thick consistency that many lip glosses have really bothered me, and I HATED pulling the little strands of hair that would get trapped in a layer of gloss on my lips at random moments through the day. Regardless of whether I wore it often or not, I was always surrounded by friends who kept a little tube of lip gloss in their pencil pouch in case they or any of their friends wanted to enhance their lips throughout the day. Lip gloss although popularized in the 90's by millennials, never really stopped being a sign of platonic intimacy for many gen-z kids. Even when I was growing up, my mom would buy my sister and I the roll on lip smackers and kid makeup sets to share. I even have a picture of my sister and I doing my mom's makeup with one of these kits. Sharing make-up seems to be something a lot of gen-z kids grew up seeing, especially those with older siblings. In present times, as a 19 year old I still share my lip products (lip liners, lipsticks, and lip glosses) with my friends and family members whenever they need to. In fact, my mom uses my lip glosses without telling me first, because there is certain amount of trust that and connection when sharing your makeup with someone. Lip gloss, is still one of the most used and beloved makeup products to date, and I don't see the effects that it has had in many teens' social hierarchies changing any time soon. While I give the 80's and 90's teens their credit for making lip gloss popular, us gen-z kids carry on the importance of lip gloss with us throughout our high school lives.

[electricbluebutterflies]

Jess/Leto + freezing even though it's not winter anymore

Roughly on the line between Choice- and mid-era, PG-ish, also on ao3.

There are days, once in a while, when Jessica wonders if her existence was as perfectly planned as she was once told it was.

Early spring, for instance, on this planet that is starting to feel like home. A month between the two storm seasons, warm enough that she can go outside and not fear for any bit of exposed skin, but… not much more than that. Her body runs cold, and she thinks sometimes that she must’ve been bred for a desert planet but then someone else’s plans changed last-minute and now here she is and-

“It truly amazes me that you can move in so many layers.”

Her partner means well, she knows. At worst a fascination with her behavior and how she has adapted in these years, never any harm meant but still-

“There are some advantages to my femininity,” she replies, not even giving him the pleasure of eye contact. “Like not losing an appendage to frostbite.”

“Didn’t you once tell me that your home planet was even colder?”

She did, she supposes, in the way that little details drift out over a number of years. Which in turn ought to have been enough time for her to acclimate, but-

“Dry cold,” she murmurs. “Different.” Like crawling under a rock, she thinks but won’t say because that’s the kind of bitterness that causes more questions she doesn’t want to answer, but-

“Still…”

“I adapt,” she says, and that ought to be the end of it, and it never is, and-

“All this and you won’t even set foot outside.”

Her partner has a great number of appealing traits, Jessica reminds herself, but perceptiveness has never been one of them. Gave her unexpected freedom in the early years, gave her the opportunity to find her way and oh at least he knows he runs oblivious, but-

Perhaps this is even more innocent, she reminds herself. Their mornings are so rare, and often by the time they find their way to each other in the quiet of night she’s shed most of those layers, and… it is entirely possible that her partner simply does not know some of the small things she does, and she can’t ever fault that, and-

“I can’t be so sure where the day will take me.”

She is not, let her defend herself, up to anything at the moment. There are none of her schemes or projects, no long-term plans in play beyond the cultivation of their son and really there isn’t much one can actually do with a four-year-old, not within these boundaries, not trying to move slower than her own training went and-

Her unpredictable nature means that in a few hours all of that could be different, but for now she is peaceful. For now…

They are, at least, long past the point where her partner would make some comment about how she could have nicer things if she wanted them. She knows, and she has adapted accordingly, and her routines this time of year are still what they are and-

“How do you still surprise me?”

Jessica laughs despite herself. There’s something very warm about these moments, and… she will always carry hidden complexities, they both know this, but not for any reason beyond comprehension issues. Effort only goes so far no matter the purity of intent, and-

“Something this small is enough to do that?”

“Something this small that I’d managed not to know despite-“

She’s half tempted to make a comment about how paying more attention to her would solve that problem easily enough, but it’s too early for a fight and again the intent, again-

“I’m comfortable,” she says like that’s the only thing that matters, and for the moment it is. Still that voice in her mind that wants to be appealing to her partner, but… quieter now, she’s noticed. More accepting of the fact that she hasn’t actually had to try in years. More…

“You do have your priorities.”

“You haven’t actually said anything disapproving, so-“

Not that she’d listen if he did, she’s tempted to add, the addition of a few underskirts to her daytime attire will not get in the way of intimacies that tend to happen at a different point in the daily cycle anyways and-

“Nor did I mean to. If something-“

She crosses the space and takes a heartbeat of a kiss, best thing she can think of to silence both of them. She does not want a fight, she repeats in her mind, she does not have any desire to escalate this situation, it is too early and nothing has actually been done and-

“Let it go,” she murmurs against her partner’s skin. “I know your worry often makes sense, but not… not about this, love.”

“Slightest confusion, not-“

“They sound the same in your voice. And it’s too early and you don’t need the distraction of me and-“

Her voice breaks before she can say something fully self-deprecating, and she backs away before he can try to calm her. There is time but there is not time, and she is not quite ready to face the outside world, and she pulls on her outer dress and gives her partner a sharp look like see-this-is-how-you-had-no-idea-what-I-do and-

“How much else do I not know about you?” he asks, a softer comment than it would’ve been five years ago but still-

“Would you spend the rest of your life listening to me?”

“Isn’t that what we mean to do anyways?”

Another temporary approach, another kiss, eyes closed because she cannot be conflicted by the way he looks at her. “Not like that, love. Not… not like that.”

She slips away again, this time out and down the hallway, dealing with her hair as she moves. Too early for such compromise, and if the trade-off is that her spiral bun looks a little less than perfect until she sees a mirror…

So much she keeps hidden, most of all her doubts. How much matters anymore?

#ebf writes fic #leto x jessica #queue

[existentialmagazine]

Existential Magazine’s April Music Roundup

With April coming to a close, we’re sharing just a handful of our favourite new releases from the month! Sit back, put on our New Music Friday playlist and spend a few minutes falling in love with every track below as we give you a snippet of our passions towards them.

Ten Hands High - i don’t need a lobster

Starting off our roundup for the month is the groovy Ten Hands High, with their iconically titled single ‘i don’t need a lobster’ that takes inspiration from the myth of lobsters mating for life, as well as reminding us of everyone’s favourite messy pairing Ross and Rachel from the hit show ‘Friends.’ Amongst a more stripped back soundscape with R&B undertones, their catchy slow riffs and a steady bassline make for the perfect chilled out tones to sit back and relax to. The lyrics are also a masterpiece within themselves, focusing around having a ‘girlfriend’, rather than feeling the pressure of dating to find your one true soulmate. As the group promote a message of living in the moment and letting things happen without feeling the need to plan every detail of your future together, we can’t help but love their authenticity and original narrative paired with instrumentals you can’t help but want to put on repeat.

Scream Mountain - Manic Pixie Dream Girl

With a dreamlike soundscape, Scream Mountain’s newest single ‘Manic Pixie Dream Girl’ is absolutely radiating nostalgic tones and a washed-out atmosphere. As their profound lyricism dives into the never ending search of perfect love, particularly that promoted within the media we consume, its pessimistic outlook would perhaps go amiss on a first listen that sweeps you up in their beautiful guitar twangs and subtle drum beat until you truly sought to listen a little deeper. Using the typical manic pixie dream girl trope, the track lies somewhere between knowing that love cannot be all flowers and roses, but should also not be a messy codependent entanglement. The whimsical chimes of softly plucked guitar notes are the cherry on top of this wonderful single, making it an absolute must listen for those yearning to get lost in their imagination or the breezy spring air.

4 The Brotherhood - Next To You

Syrupy smooth right from the start, our next track ‘Next To You’ by 4 The Brotherhood stood out most with its euphoric soundscape and pure feel-good energy. From the subtle electric guitar plucks, whimsical electronic effects and peppy vocal performance, every new layer adds another element of joyful exploration for your ears. With a narrative that’s light and relatable, ‘Next To You’ tells the age-old tale of moving on from that one old high-school crush you could never really get over, before finding all those feelings flooding back years later as you cross paths with them once again. Providing all of the youthful spirit and more, this undeniable teenage anthem is one hell of a punchy dance and sing-along release, determined to get any and all listeners on their feet having a good time - and it certainly succeeded in our books.

GLOB - R U Happy Now?

Sharing their debut single ‘R U Happy Now?’, GLOB make an impressive step into the music industry with such a raw and unique sound quite unlike anything we’ve ever heard before. With instrumentals that seem stripped to their very cores for a layer of haunting intimacy, their striking electric guitar strums and timbre drum beats never fail to capture the attention of anyone listening along. Hoarse vocals prevail over the top, filled with a mesmerising richness in tone that any artist surely dreams to sound like. Taking inspiration from the novel and film adaption of ‘The Shining’ originally written by renowned horror author Stephen King, their gripping narrative takes on the story of someone possessed, where their mind is the haunted hotel and the memories are the ghosts that walk its halls. This one of a kind, intricate story is one that caught our eyes and ears from the moment we heard this enthralling new single, as GLOB make it seem effortless to pen such a poignant, unforgettable tale.

Opal Skies - You

With bass thumping and a heavy electronic drum rhythm dominating from the very beginning, it’s evident Opal Skies latest single ‘You’ is unapologetically bold and loud in all of the best ways. From disorienting guitar riffs and a thundering instrumental performance, this grungy concoction is like the embodiment of a night out without any of the hassle of leaving your bedroom. The intentionally intense vocal production adds another layer of crude distortion to this certifiable angsty crowd-pleaser of a track, angrily chanting a lyrical message of disappointment and annoyance. This narrative explores a personal experience of the group as they divulge into how a close friend became successful, but left behind their true friends - ‘You’ certainly doesn’t hold back in its penalisation of their character and the ego they’ve amassed, and we’re all for it.

Jordan Dean - Feeling Strange

Bringing back the garage rock sound reminiscent of the 2000s, Jordan Dean shares latest single ‘Feeling Strange.’ From the initial fade-in of instrumentals to the first moments of hearing Jordan’s clean yet mesmerisingly rich vocals with an inherent natural charm, we were absolutely hooked. Written about associating yourself with others who don’t give you much in return, lines like ‘they never catch my name, they don’t remember it’ make it clear that this one-way relationship is not one you should be pouring energy into. Between spoken-sung hooks and inherently catchy guitar riffs, along with a chorus earworm ‘I’ve been hanging out with degenerates’, Jordan makes it clear that he’s an upcoming artist to be reckoned with.

Joaquin - Careful

Joaquin’s sultry new single ‘Careful’ was sure to make it’s way on this list from the second we heard it, souring with a delicate R&B soundscape and sprinkles of electronic passion, it doesn’t hold back on gripping you tight and pulling you in. Joaquin’s intimate vocal performance works every avenue of buttery smoothness, paired with a diverse sound between R&B and electronic pop that brings a freshness to both genres whilst still subtly nodding towards the greats that dominate like The Weeknd and Justin Timberlake. It’s no surprise paired with such a sound that ‘Careful’s lyricism alludes to an adult narrative in subtle hints and innuendos littered in every line - but we appreciated that intentional lack of blatancy, making ‘Careful’ feel like a track for all dance-along, feel-good occasions.

The Trusted - Millennium

Infused with their staple indie-rock sound, The Trusted’s latest release ‘Millennium’ may inspire a little deja vu, as you find yourself lost in past nostalgia. Softened guitar riffs and a subtle driving drum beat make for an echoey, almost arena-esque feeling performance that’s topped off by punchy bass and commandeering, rich vocals. Their dazzling soundscape makes their lyricism feel lighter as you listen along, but ‘Millennium’ doesn’t hold back on it’s criticisms of growing up in the early 21st century - a time where the band express how hard it is hard to switch off from the online world and its constant bombardment of information. Between wanna-be influencers, celebrity culture and how lost many feel without a phone in their hand, ‘Millennium’ takes a second to switch off and remind those that sometimes the greater things in life are experiences had without a screen: ‘I can see demons in the machines.’

DECO - Change Of View

Sharing an acoustic ballad, DECO’s newest single ‘Change Of View’ feels like the perfect tune as we head towards summery days and youthful spirits. With a narrative that explores trying to find ‘the one’ and a plea for someone they’re head over heels for to take a chance on them, ‘Change Of View’ is sincere and impassioned within every carefully curated line. This budding romance is brimming with good vibes and infectiously vibrant instrumental hooks, between the acoustic guitar’s frantic unapologetic strums and DECO’s own hoarse vocals, there’s an evident care towards the soundscape with DECO’s paralleling sounds to the cyclical nature of looking for their soulmate. With undulating energy in the verses mirroring the rise and fall of relationships, and the rapid panning in the bridge to echo rattling thoughts around your head, this expertly pieced together single shows an evident investment of heart and soul to make such a beautiful work of art within itself.

small pockets - askews me

With a bubbly lo-fi, easy listening styling small pockets returns with their latest chilled new single ‘askews me.’ Between glitchy guitar and intermittent sound effects, their delicate yet poignant riffs are unavoidably brilliant as a joyful earworm among an atmosphere of pure reverie. Crammed into this two minute slice of heaven, there’s a soundscape of intimacy and intricate interwoven sounds from retro-esque tones and at one point a crowd of chanting voices that all cohesively work together to hook you before the words of ‘askews me’ can grip you just as hard. Touching upon the mistakes and walls people put up as we both fear and protect our own feelings, ‘askews me’ could be viewed as both a love song as you progress to let down your barriers, or an emotionally resounding narrative set to inspire listeners to consider their own boundaries and feel less alone in their choices of protecting their heart.

ema sid - happy

Concluding the incredible music we’ve discovered this month is ema sid with her latest blend between alternative rock and pop in single ‘happy.’ From the theatrical guitar plucks to ema’s astoundingly unique vocal tone and resonant high pitch, every second of this nearing three minute piece is crafted to thrill and deconstruct the norms of genre. If not evident from the title alone, ‘happy’ encompasses a narrative all about faking happiness - from the seemingly radiant online world of social media and forced smiles at parties, if you’ve ever put on a facade of joy when underneath you’re nothing but lost, ema sid has you covered in this honest new release. This excessive happiness radiates through her instrumental choices and delicately sung vocals, that somehow all have an essence of underlying melancholia if you dare look deeper.

Give a listen to these songs and more in our New Music Friday playlist this week!

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

#music #roundup #newmusic #newmusicroundup

[oetravia]

Every Brainia Scene Ever: 6x04 [1/7]

#supergirl #supergirledit #brainia #brainiaedit #dreamdox #brainiac 5 #nia nal #yeah okay this one's a bit of a mess but look at them! #Nia’s background reactions honestly crack me up every time I see them (and I’ll be honest I’ve rewatched all the S6 Brainia scenes a LOT) #and I’m actually quite sad Brainy’s back was to her for both of them - particularly her reaction to the decaf comment #she was about ready to propose marriage at that point let's be honest. Just look at her. 10/10 supportive girlfriend and human meme #Speaking of supportive - because when am I not in the tags on these gifsets - the way they check in on each other throughout this ep #is one of those little details that adds such a layer of intimacy to their relationship #and I especially loved that it was something they were both doing rather than it just being Brainy OR Nia the way it sometimes is #Something I've also really loved in S6 is the way that Brainy's always immediately right by Nia's side whenever she comes out of a dream #(again it's the unconditional support and the way they're so in sync and aware of each other that has my heart in a vice grip) #but I think what I truly loved most about these little partners was seeing Brainy and Nia as a team again #right by each other's side exactly where they belong because they're truly PARTNERS again in all senses of the word #i've missed that side of them so much - almost as much as they did in S5 - and I can't wait to see more in 6B #mine #my gifs #otp: what does love feel like? #*ebs

[ariesjupiter]

Mitski Birth Chart Reading

This is just my interpretation based on Mitski’s birth chart and what I know of her music. Let me know if you have any suggestions of someone I should make a post on next! If you’re interested, I offer natal chart readings, just check my pinned post!

Libra sun: In terms of basic personality and ego, Mitski is focused on creating balanced, harmonic relationships. Intimate, one-on-one relationships are a major part of her identity. Libra is ruled by venus which represents love and beauty. After all, she is known for her lyrics relating to her romantic relationships. The lyric “I love everybody because I love you” is so profoundly Libra to me. She is friendly and charming. She sees herself reflected and other people and people see themselves reflected in her (for better or worse). Venus also rules the arts and Mitski is a natural artist in every sense of the word. Her music sonically is very unique, inventive, and creative as she experiments with mixing different genres. This is influenced by her sun in the 11th house. Sun in the 11th house also indicates an emphasis on friendships and memberships of certain groups and communities. It also indicates an importance of her hopes and dreams. Her sun in 3° explains why she is such a talented writer, communicator, and lyricist. Peak libra sun culture: “Young adult romance is the shit” (a real quote from the queen herself). And let’s not forget her iconic quote from 2016: “I’m a libra so my sexuality is essentially “you can really be any gender as long as you treat me like a princes.” Truer words have never been spoken.

Capricorn moon: Despite how personal her music is, Mitski is a rather private and reserved person, particularly when it comes to expressing her emotions. Also, Capricorn is associated with the father and she has been known to be especially private regarding her dad’s career. She is serious and intense with emotions but can sometimes get detached. The emphasis is on having control over her feelings. She is ambitious and a practical person. Her emotions are connected to her career. Those who do not know her well may see her as cold. In temperament she tends to be melancholic. Emotionally mature and wise beyond her years. Straightforward and honest with her expression. She is dependable, loyal, hard working, & realistic. Emotional fulfillment is often tied to achievement and success. Her moon in the 2nd house and 2° suggests material comforts make her feel safe. With the 2nd house being associated with venus, she is able to express her emotions in an artistic way. Could be protective over material objects. Sentimental. Music has a big impact on her emotions and mood. Peak capricorn moon culture: “I didn’t really feel anything. I’ve stopped feeling things for a long time” - Mitski, The Fader Interview, 2017. In all seriousness, I hope my capricorn moons are doing good.

Virgo mercury: Mitski is practical and detail oriented when it comes to communication and matters of learning. She takes the time to choose the right words to convey her thoughts. She is clear and concise. Mercury is in its sign of rulership here. Her mercury in the 10th house suggests that she will be known for her communication style. Has a lot of thoughts but is also organized. Analytical. Mitski likes making lists. Loves to give advice. Mercury is in 16° (cancer degree) and she has a soft spoken voice. Talks about the past and her roots (cancerian themes).

Virgo venus: In love, Mitski will assume a caretaking role and will gladly help her partner finish mundane tasks and chores. A devoted and faithful lover. Love is about the mundane and routine details of life. Love is about service. Acts of service tend to be virgo venus’ main love language. She wants to help improve her partner’s life. She is patient and observant. Values love that is simple and authentic. Appreciates a partner with whom she can have intellectual conversations. May have a tendency to be too critical on herself when it comes to love. Venus rules aesthetics & style and she tends to have a modest fashion sense. Mitski has voiced her interest in astrology and how she has asked people she’s interested for their birth times lmao. Her venus is in the 11th house, she treats a lover like she would treat a friend. In fact, romantic love probably equates to platonic love in her book. She has her venus in 24° which is a pisces degree, which explains this natural interest in astrology.

Gemini mars: Could be impatient because she moves quickly. Efficient. Has a lot of goals and likes to keep busy. She thrives when she talks to others and exchanged ideas. Likes to multitask. Very versatile. Probably has a flirty, bubbly energy when she’s attracted to someone. Attracted to intellect. Desire to see things from multiple perspectives. Gemini rules the hands so she’s skilled with playing instruments and writing. Likes to try new things. Witty and humorous. Could have nervous energy or fidget often.

Leo jupiter: The planet of luck and expansion in Leo is a big indicator of fame. Her jupiter is also in the 9th house and in 7°. Jupiter in the 9th indicates being born in a different country from where you reside now. Mitski is biracial and has lived in multiple countries growing up. She loves to learn, particularly about other cultures and ways of life. She is open minded, philosophical and values freedom and being independent. She attracts good fortune when she travels (touring!) and also when she focuses on partnerships/intimate relationships (7°). Combining this energy, Mitski attracts luck when she acts dramatically, demonstrates/teaches her knowledge, expresses herself artistically, shows her warm hearted and sometimes stubborn side, & takes chances, shows her bravery, and takes the lead. Be the Cowboy is big leo energy 🤠

Capricorn saturn: Mitski is responsible, practical, goal-oriented, and cautious. With saturn in the 3rd house, she probably had to grow up quickly and become mature at a young age. Capricorn saturn people tend to be very successful people. Strong willed. Tendency to be quiet and is a good listener. Could also be outspoken. With saturn in 18° (virgo degree), she’s very hard working but she may need to learn how to take a break and let herself rest and recharge.

Capricorn uranus: This placement also indicates that she goes after her goals and is efficient and practical in achieving them. Uranus being in the 2nd house shows that she could make money from being unique and groundbreaking. 2nd house also rules the voice! Her values are unique and she could be resistant to change them. Her self esteem could be in a constant state of flux and be tied to money. Her income could rapidly change, like maybe she did not get paid much but then suddenly she starts making a lot of money. Uranus is in 5° which is a fame degree. She’s famous for being authentically herself and very much an individual in the industry that can’t be compared.

Capricorn neptune: Capricorn neptunes are most likely realists. She is skilled at going after her dreams. Her dreams are practical and connected to themes of wealth, power, and control. Neptune in 3rd house shows a dreamy, poetic way of communicating. A very creative placement. Dreamy vibes. Could be elusive in communication, open for interpretation. Neptune is in 11° so this gives aquarian energy. Idealistic with friends and always searching for ways to achieve her dreams.

Scorpio pluto: Her power lies in her ability to analayze human interactions and be introspective with herself since it’s in the 1st house. She is very self aware. Mitski understands that life is about going through changes and she welcomes the ability to grow and rebuild. She has intense, deep emotions but has control over them and how she expresses them. Pluto in 16° adds a cancerian energy. Her strength lies in her ability to nurture and be empathetic.

Scorpio rising: First impressions of Mitski can be that she’s mysterious and secretive. A powerful and intimidating presence. This explains to me why she loves dressing in black. She probably has a strong dislike for anything superficial. She likes to get to know people on a deeper level and connect with them. She likes honesty and is probably very perceptive and intuitive. Privacy is so important to her! She has a lot of layers and wants people to unpack them, but it may take her a while to open up. She is powerful and has endurance. Her presence leaves an impact on people. Loyalty and intimacy is important. She’s not afraid to talk about taboo topics or scary, heavier emotions. Passionate and even a tendency to get fixed on or obsessed with something or someone. Her rising is in 15° (gemini degree) so she’s clever, curious, and thinks quickly. a little more flexible than a regular Scorpio rising would be.

Leo midheaven: People might see her as dramatic or arrogant. In the public eye, she was meant to be a performer. At her concerts she’s known for putting on a good show & includes interpretive dance and choreography. She becomes herself more when she’s on stage. The stage is where she shines. Has a lot of pride connected to her career. Reputation for creatively expressing herself and being brave and taking risks. Wants to be admired, especially regarding her career. Her purpose is to become a leader. Mc in 22° (capricorn degree) shows that she is a very hard worker when it comes to her career. She won’t let anyone stop her when it comes to achievement and success in her field. Another indicator of being at the top of her career and being publicly recognized for it!

TLDR: Mitski is a natural born singer, performer and artist. She is unique, talented, and an introspective writer. Being earth and water dominant, she balances practicality & stability with sentimentality & raw emotion. With all of her Capricorn placements, she is grounded and doesn’t let fame get to her head. Her chart ruler is Scorpio pluto in the 1st which means that major transformations will be a big theme in her life, especially regarding herself & her identity. She is always reflecting and looking at herself on a deep level.

#mitski #astrology #astro blog #astroblr #astro community #astro notes #astro observations #astrology observations #astrology notes #birth chart #natal chart #birth chart reading #natal chart reading #libra sun #capricorn moon #scorpio rising #celeb charts #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #working for the knife

[cherrynojutsu]

Title: Like Gold

Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

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Chapter 4/?: Soothe

Sasuke arrives outside her building shortly before seven in the morning, an ubiquitous aubade sung by birds, polished and practiced for many years, lilting into his ears along the way. The village for the most part is still slowly awakening from its slumber; no merchants in the streets yet, and he only passes a few people here and there as light slowly seeps higher into the sky.

He carefully pushes open the glass door of the exterior portion of her complex, making sure to keep it quiet in case her neighbors are still asleep. As he goes up the stairs, he notices that all of the downstairs tenants’ lights are on, emanating from beneath the trio of entryways. Once he reaches the upper landing, he sees that Sakura’s light is on, too, though her other two neighbors' are not.

The doors of each unit are all painted different colors. Hers is sage green; he hadn’t been able to discern that previously, with the desaturation that night brings.

He's wondering if maybe he should knock to let her know he’s here, but then she emerges a few minutes early, beautiful and bright-eyed and full of life, pale yellow sunshine coating her from the large window with diamond patterning behind him.

She seems pretty awake already; she must be an early riser. She's carrying her tote bag again, and today she wears a dark skirt with a red top, along with a familiar pair of knee-high sandals. She's also wearing a smile, directed upwards at him.

"Good morning, Sasuke-kun," she acknowledges him softly, looking very happy to see him.

"...Morning." He keeps his voice low, because it is still a little hoarse. He tries to memorize her eyes again in the span of seconds before she turns to lock her door behind her.

It's 6:58 by the time they're out the glass door, her leading the way. They take the main road west a few blocks before turning to go north, this time. There are several more buildings that appear residential on her street. One of them has vines creeping up the sides, starting to bud after the warmer spring weather. He notes there is also a bakery on the corner, not open yet, but one that seems like the kind to also sell confections. He wonders if that factored into her apartment selection at all; he remembers she has a sweet tooth.

It is an easy silence they share on the walk there, bird calls lulling in as background noise again. There are more of them now, a more layered song than earlier, with a wider variety of voices filtering in and out.

Sakura leads them to a very small tea shop within five minutes of the hospital; it is quaint and simple, definitely not modern. It is also quite small, with only four or so small tables situated by windows, looking out towards the street. The entire establishment utilizes a spread of cinnamon-colored wood for its surfaces; floors, counters, and the shelving in the back, laden with neatly-labeled teas of several varieties in glass jars. He assumes the larger jars are store stock, with the smaller ones higher up on the shelves being available for purchase for use at home, if one decides they like a particular flavor enough.

He finds he likes the atmosphere. He figured he would. It's not a formal place, but rather one where you retrieve what you've ordered from the counter and can choose whether to stay or go. He supposes that makes sense; it’s closer to the busier part of the village. There appears to be a small area to the left of the counter where one can add cream, sugar, lemon, or honey, though he knows he won't. He vaguely remembers that she used to take lemon and sugar in her tea, and possibly cream, depending on the brew. Honey seems like something Sakura would like, too, now that he’s thinking about it.

He scans the menu briefly upon entering before deciding something hot with caffeine would probably be best. Sencha green tea is usually what he gravitates toward. He also enjoys black tea during cooler weather, and jasmine occasionally, though not often; it had been his mother’s favorite.

Once he orders, he says, "Hers, too," and glances back towards Sakura expectantly. She looks at him with a blush that rivals the color of her hair when she realizes he's offering to pay for hers.

"Oh! Um, lavender matcha. Hot, please."

His lips quirk upwards a little, because that is possibly the most Sakura thing she could have ordered.

It doesn’t take very long until it’s ready, as they’re not busy; they are the only ones there, thus far. He takes a sip while idling by the end of the counter as he watches her add honey and cream into hers, stirring carefully. It is one of the better blends of sencha he’s had, aside from a particular place nestled on the edge of the Land of Mountains, where he’s pretty sure the elderly woman who ran the place harvested the tea straight from her private garden. He had pilgrimaged there a total of five times on his journey, months scattered like the seasons in between.

It was an odd teahouse, more formal than this one and off the beaten path, not near any major landmarks, nor plotted on any map he’d seen before or after. The lady, who had wizened eyes of a crystal clear blue, slightly lighter in hue than Naruto’s, had served the brews in eclectic and sometimes chipped mugs and teacups, from which he had assumed after multiple visits must be a fairly vast collection. The china was different every time, but he had liked the tea itself so much he kept coming back, if he was anywhere near the area. Twice he had been the only customer there, the first two visits occurring during early morning hours, and there was something extremely cathartic about sitting at the table in the far corner, looking out the window as the sun rose higher in the sky until it no longer skimmed the horizon and the mountains in the distance.

The other three visits had occurred during the afternoon, so there had been at least one or two other people present, at those times. He had noticed that third time that other patrons were served out of much different teacups than he was; he had secretly suspected, after that, that the woman tried to match the stoneware from her collection to whatever she saw in her patrons.

There had been a father sitting with his daughter, who had looked to be around six or seven, on his third visit. The father’s teacup had been robust, solid with carved detail that appeared to have been created with something like a miniature chisel, and an earthenware glaze mix of green and russet, strangely looking similar to the color of seaweed. The daughter’s had been a smaller cup, dainty finery of opalescent sky blue, with a similar mother of pearl finish coating the inside. The girl had quickly drained her glass once she realized the inside was pretty, too; she had spent the rest of the time there in awe of its beauty, turning it in the light as her father watched with soft eyes, enjoying his own cup more slowly. Sasuke had thought it must have been an expensive teacup, not necessarily what you’d typically give a child that young, but the girl hadn’t chipped or broken it. Instead, she had been enamored by its beautiful finish, even more enthralled with the inside than she had been with the outside, and had handled it with great care.

He never saw the same cup twice, for him or any other customer there. He had hoped by the third and fourth time that this was a good sign, that it meant progress. Once he figured it out, he wished he’d examined the first two cups, near five months apart, with greater care; he had thought there might have been a lesson there he had missed. His first teacup, from what he remembered, had been rather plain: rounded, no handle, slightly hard to grip, a shiny black glaze with a burnt orange rim. The second time, he’d been served the sencha in another black piece of china, though this one must have been fired differently; there was no glaze at the very bottom of the outer portion of the vessel, bare toasted clay in an oatmeal color. Carved designs on the outer portion of the piece had nearly melted glaze off it, allowing for the viewer to see the true color of the clay body beneath, creating an effect of brushstrokes in the third dimension, rippling out of the darkness. That one had had a chip at the top, but it hadn’t compromised the structural integrity of the piece, and was easily avoided simply by sipping from the undamaged side.

The third cup had taken him off guard in its uniqueness, and is what had caused him to look to the girl and her father. He had analyzed theirs, and then his own cup closely for a long time that day, thinking. Still no handle, but it had been a bit more narrow, as well as taller, easier to grip. The glaze design was fascinating, a thick glossy black base coat overlaid with a strange dissolving mixture of sapphire and indigo. It had reminded him of a night sky in the middle of nowhere, tiny amounts of galaxy blues and violets barely visible to the naked eye in their sheer scope and complexity. The glaze itself also only covered around two thirds of the vessel, at an asymmetrical angle, with the remaining half left unglazed, as if it hadn’t dripped down to be fully covered yet because the artist had liked the way it looked as is.

When he went back for a fourth cup several months later, the lady had given him an entirely too knowing look, and served his tea in a somewhat misshapen mug, this time with a handle. The handle was awkward, too small, and slightly malformed; the mug’s overall shape seemed as though it may have been an artist’s first attempt, shoddily trimmed and uneven in many places. The glaze design itself was mesmerizing, though, something like a gradient this time, shifting from splattering black to sepia to a lighter color, akin to the inside of a water chestnut. It was almost as if the cup had been constructed by a beginner and then drenched in magisterial color by a master. The sencha had tasted just as good from that cup as it had from any of the others, despite the challenge of grasping it with any semblance of comfort.

The last cup had been only a few months ago: well-designed, with a near perfect handle, easy to hold. The foot and interior of the mug was a smoky gray, well-trimmed, but the exterior body of it was a white raku crackle, twisting patterns of scale-like ivory and black outlines, small dots sprinkled in between where the unevenness of the heat must have interfered in the firing process.

When he reached the very bottom of the vessel, having finished his tea, it had been gilded gold, metallic and astonishingly bright, catching the light of the sun coming through the farthest window, where he sat in the corner alone.

He had sat there staring at it for the better portion of an afternoon. It was a peculiar artistic choice.

This sencha is good, too, he thinks as he takes another sip, here with Sakura, also at a table in the farthest corner, looking out another window. Herbaceous, earthy, and light, and in a cup that matches hers. It feels cleansing on his sore throat, corrosion, not too hot but not lukewarm, either; a rather perfect medium between mellow and astringent. It is a nice way to greet the break of day.

“Thank you, Sasuke-kun," she murmurs, after they’ve been seated for a few seconds.

He nods; she’s still flushed as she says it. He can see it better now, in the bright light of the window. He takes another sip, and continues to enjoy looking at her.

“How is yours?” She asks.

“...I like it.” He considers his next words. “You didn’t add lemon.”

Her lips quirk upward, dimple appearing. “It doesn’t go the best with the lavender. They only have this kind on hand for the springtime.” She pauses, then adds, “I still put lemon in pretty much all my tea, otherwise.”

Sasuke inclines his head again, and she takes another sip.

They sit there for a while in a comfortable silence, watching more of the village wake up and people pass by from the window, on their way to work and other responsibilities. There are two small birds across the street, perched on the awning over an apartment building’s entrance. Finches, he deduces by their plumage and size. Perhaps they are looking for a mixture of materials with which to build a nest.

“It’s a good place to just sit and watch, in the morning,” Sakura mentions after a while, still looking out the window contentedly.

“...Is that your favorite thing about it?”

She meets his eyes, then, and smiles. “One of them.”

He looks at her expectantly, so she continues. “The tea itself is good. It’s close to the hospital, and I like... “ Her voice trails off, and she glances over at the station where she added cream and honey, lips still turned upwards. “I like that they don’t overfill the cup; it makes it easier to add what it needs.”

A ghost of a smile overtakes him. Practical, as always.

Sasuke finds himself contemplating what kind of teacup the elderly lady would give Sakura, if he took her there.

XXX

"You're a little on the skinny side for your height, now," Sakura notes as she writes down his information on the form he's given her, stepping off the scale; 163 pounds. "Not unhealthy, necessarily, but you should try to put on some weight."

They are at the hospital, in an exam room this time instead of her office. Her voice has shifted to something more professional, and Sasuke knows he is now with Sakura the clinician, though her affection is still an undercurrent in the way she's looking at him carefully with warm eyes. She’s already measured his height, and has his paperwork from his last physical to compare it to; apparently he’s grown another two inches since then.

He hopes he’s done growing, in that regard. It doesn’t seem likely that she’ll grow any taller; she’s twenty now, and they already have a considerable height difference. He doesn’t know how tall she is, exactly. He must hover over her by at least six or seven inches.

"Okay," He responds, because he trusts her judgment. Being away and mulling on his failures never gave him much of an appetite. Being back in Konoha hasn't much either, so far, but he can try. “How much?”

She looks somewhat surprised that he asked. “160 to 196 pounds is considered a normal range for six feet; I’d start with ten, and then evaluate from there.”

He nods. Her eyes linger on him, as if she’s contemplating saying something more. When she turns to set down her clipboard and grab the cuff typically used to measure blood pressure, he thinks she must have decided against it, whatever it was. He goes to sit in the patient’s chair, familiar with the routine at this point. He's gotten a physical near every year of his life that he’s spent in Konoha.

She sits on the wheeled chair that’s next to the desk, rolling it closer to him. He extends his right arm, and as she carefully adjusts the cuff, she tells him, tone casual, “You’ve got an inch on Naruto, now.”

There is a very stupid and juvenile part of him that takes immense satisfaction in this news, but she doesn’t look like she’s finished speaking yet. He waits for the rest.

She smiles apologetically. “He’s got about fifteen pounds on you, though. There’s some motivation for you.”

He pins her with a pointed stare, unimpressed but also a little amused. Motivation, indeed.

Her expression turns somewhat guilty, now. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist. I did his about a month ago; he came back from a mission with a cracked rib, and it needed to be updated.”

She starts increasing the pressure, and he suddenly becomes aware that she is closer to him than before, by the nature of the operation of the equipment. He had become aware of her physical proximity at roughly this point in the exam the last time, too.

He’s thankful it doesn’t seem to affect his blood pressure. “105 over 70; good,” she concludes, before reaching to remove the cuff from his arm. Her fingertips make brief contact with his skin, this time, and he has to fight an urge to shiver, even though they’re warm.

She picks up her pen to input this information in the appropriate slot, then sets it aside and puts away the cuff. When she turns back to him, she says, “Heart rate is next. Hold out your wrist, please.”

He holds out his right arm again, letting his elbow rest on the surface of the desk this time. Both of her hands come to grip his single one, lightly and carefully feeling for his pulse. He tries to hold very still, and to not think about how soft her hands are. He distracts himself by preoccupying his gaze with the clock on the wall behind her. It feels like a very long thirty seconds, though he knows by watching the hand tick that it’s actually not.

She doesn’t vocalize what the number is, just removes her hands finally and reaches for the pen to fill it in on the paper. He wonders if it was elevated.

“Heart and lungs next.” She reaches for the stethoscope, positioning it in her ears before leaning in to listen to his heart first, over his shirt. He looks to the ceiling.

It doesn’t take very long. “Sounds good. Lungs, next.” She gets up and comes around the chair slightly behind him. He shifts to pull the back portion of his shirt up to his shoulder; he remembers this from the last exam, too.

“It’ll be cold; I’m sorry,” she warns gently, before pressing the instrument to his back. She is nothing but professional as she asks him to take a few deep breaths. Routine, and very careful not to touch his skin with anything but the diaphragm of the stethoscope, cool metal.

It feels… different than the last exam. He had been a little on edge during this part, then, too, even though she was nothing but professional then, as well.

He is just… very aware that she is behind him, and that his shirt is pulled up, and she’s listening to him breathe and can see the skin of his back. And that he's kissed her.

The coolness slips away after a short amount of time. “Lung function sounds good.” He pulls his shirt back into place, feeling a faint sense of relief as he does so. She goes back to document her findings on the paperwork.

She then lays the stethoscope back in its appropriate place. Scanning the page, she asks, “Any issues with your hearing?”

“Not that I’m aware,” Sasuke responds. She dips her head in acknowledgement, filling in that box with what he assumes is non-applicable.

“Sense of smell?”

He recalls raspberries and antiseptic. “No.” She fills another box.

“Sinus or lymph node issues?”

He shakes his head.

“I’m assuming you’ve used the Sharingan and Rinnegan since last time, so I’ll look at your eyes towards the end.”

He nods, and she reaches for a light instrument to use to look at his throat, as well as one of the wooden sticks from a glass jar in the corner. “Throat next,” she says, flicking the light on.

He tries not to furrow his brow. He wasn't looking forward to this part.

He opens his mouth for the wood, reedlike and firm against his tongue, and then she’s shining the light in and frowning.

“Say ah, please.”

He complies, feeling quite undignified, though he knows it’s necessary and just part of her job. She removes the stick after a second, setting the flashlight instrument aside, and he closes his mouth.

"Teeth and gums look good, and your tonsils look fine, but your throat looks a little raw. Have you been sick recently?"

"Yes." It is technically the truth, though not in a viral sense.

She looks thoughtful as she’s making a note on her clipboard. “Within the past week?”

He nods. She must see him from the corner of her eye, because then she asks, while still writing, “Any other symptoms? Cough? Does it feel sore?”

“No.” He pauses, then clarifies. “No cough. A little sore. Not bad.”

Verdant eyes flick up to him for a long moment. He feels somewhat guilty; even if he knows the truth, she might be thinking right now that he’s been irresponsible, that he may have given her an illness via kissing.

She breaks eye contact eventually, and sets the pen down, standing to open the uppermost cupboard door in the exam room. His brow furrows, until she’s pulling down a small box that he sees has cough drops in them.

“We only have mixed berry; they’ll be kind of sweet, but it should help. Take a few for later, and put one in now, please.”

Sasuke blinks, and then takes a handful. He puts all but one in his pocket, and then unwraps the one left in his hand, putting it in his mouth, as she asked.

She arches to put the box back in the cupboard, and he forces himself to look elsewhere.

It does feel good on his throat, soothing. “...Thank you,” he says after a few more seconds, as she makes another note on his form.

“You’re welcome,” she replies. Then, back to clinical Sakura. “Any other issues? Abdominal, neurological?”

“No.”

She flips the page. “Infectious disease screening questions are next. Obviously you’ve traveled outside the village in the past 21 days, but have you been outside of Fire Country in that time?”

He thinks. “Rain, about thirteen days ago. Wind, 19 days ago.”

Sakura inclines her head, and writes in the information. He notices she keeps her eyes trained on the questionnaire now. “Have you, to your knowledge, had close contact with a person with measles, mumps, or chickenpox in that time period?”

“No.” She checks the 'no' box.

“Have you, to your knowledge, had close contact with a person or source in that time period for any of the following: botulism, diphtheria, E. coli, encephalitis, hemorrhagic fever, hepatitis, influenza, listeriosis, malaria, meningitis, pneumonia, rabies, severe acute respiratory syndrome, smallpox, or yellow fever?”

“No.” He watches her check several 'no' boxes.

“Have you, to your knowledge, had close contact with a person in that time period who may have exposed you to any sexually transmitted infections?”

He’s glad she’s looking at the paper still, even if that answer is obvious. “No.” She checks several more 'no' boxes.

“And you didn’t have a fever earlier.” She checks another 'no' box. “And sore throat, but no shortness of breath at any point?”

“No.”

“Vomiting or diarrhea?”

“...Vomiting, yes,” he answers honestly. “No to the second.”

She nods, as if she knew that already from looking at his throat. She probably did. She’s good at what she does.

“Any kind of rash?”

“No.”

That’s the last question on the page, so she turns to the next one.

“Next is bloodwork. We’ll do a cholesterol screening, in regards to heart health, and then we’ll also do a general workup and run it for any infectious diseases. I don’t think we’ll find anything if it’s just the vomiting and resulting sore throat, but better safe than sorry.”

She then starts getting out the necessary supplies with which to get a blood sample. It doesn’t take very long; he holds out his right arm again, and Sakura finds the vein easily. “You’ll feel a pinch.” Within sixty seconds it’s over, and she’s pressing and holding the cotton to the dot of red before taping over it, a small pressure dressing.

“Leave that on for a few hours, please,” she advises, and he nods to indicate that he will. She makes quick work of labeling the blood sample, and sets it aside with the clipboard, he assumes for the end of the appointment.

She scribbles in a few more comments on the sheet, he assumes for whoever is running the tests. “Okay, just eyes and arm left. We’ll do eyes first. Any deterioration in vision that you’ve noticed?”

“No.”

“Good. I’ll shine the light to check your pupils quick before I use chakra to look at them.” She grabs a different light tool, a penlight, and turns it on, before looking at him expectantly.

He blinks, curious what she’s waiting for, and then she asks softly, “Could you move your hair out of the way, please?”

Oh. He complies, and she shines the light in one eye, moving it slightly and monitoring the progress. She then does the same to his Rinnegan.

“Reactivity is good; no signs of defect.” She sets the penlight back where it belongs, then makes a note in his paperwork indicating that. Then she’s shifting her chair a tiny bit closer, so she can reach his eyes with her hands.

“Do you have a preference, which one I start with?” She asks. He shakes his head. “Okay; I’ll check the right eye first.” She reaches out with her left hand, pressing her thumb above his eye over his eyebrow, and her other four fingers lightly to his temple, just next to his eye socket.

Sasuke tries not to dwell on how close she is again as green chakra drizzles into his ocular system; he keeps his vision trained forward, as he knows he’s supposed to as she examines. There is a freckle on her right ear that he remembers focusing on, the last time; he does this time, too.

Around thirty seconds passes, before she informs him, “I’m going to funnel some chakra into the retina and optic nerve here; there’s some damage.”

He had suspected there might be, though his vision has not suffered; mostly there was just a bit of pain, sometimes. He hasn’t overworked it by any means, but he hasn’t completely abstained from using it since he’d last been healed by her, either. “Okay.”

The flow of her chakra works its way deeper, more of it now. This part has always relaxed him; her chakra really is quite calming, careful and gentle, threading its way behind his eye and wrapping around the nerve.

She works for about five minutes before the chakra starts to let up.

“...There. That should be a little better,” she says before lifting her hand from his right. “Look up, down, please.”

He complies.

“Left to right, now.” He does. “Good. Does it feel okay?”

He nods, meeting her eyes again finally. It feels stronger, no pain. He decides to verbalize that, even though he’s already nodded. “It’s better. Thank you.”

She smiles at him. “Good.” Then she’s detailing whatever she’s supposed to detail in the paperwork, before setting the pen down again.

“Left eye now.”

She repeats the process, frowning again. “There’s some damage here, too. I’ll fix it.”

This time, it takes longer; not quite ten minutes, but fairly close. He tries to focus on the wall behind her.

He had asked her once, when she was healing him following the war, if it used a lot of chakra. She had said not necessarily, but it depended on the level of damage. She also told him that it was moreso a delicate process, requiring careful manipulation, so he has tried not to talk during any healing sessions since.

When her hand finally pulls away, he’s gotten so used to the contact that it feels like a loss.

“Look up, down, please,” she requests again. Then left to right.

“Function looks good. How does it feel?”

“Better. Thank you.”

She smiles at him gently, just Sakura again for a second, before turning back to the form to finish the optical section.

Then, she turns the page. “Arm is last. Could you please roll up your sleeve to your shoulder?” He grabs his empty left sleeve with his right arm and starts shifting it upwards, rolling it so that it stays put once it’s to the top.

She touches the end of what’s left of the limb with careful fingers, soft but steady on marred skin and scar tissue. “I’ll look with chakra in a second, but any redness that you’ve noticed?”

“No.” He shifts his gaze forward, because her fingertips really are softer than he remembers.

“Any areas that occasionally feel warmer than is typical?”

He shakes his head.

“Swelling of any kind?”

“No.”

“Have you been stretching it as instructed?”

He meets her eyes, then. “Yes.” He wants her to know he listens to her recommendations.

Soft jade, and she’s smiling again. She moves her hands away momentarily, and grabs the clipboard with the papers, checking several boxes as he has indicated. He looks back forward.

“Any phantom limb pain?”

“Sometimes.”

“Residual limb pain?”

“...Sometimes.”

Her gaze flicks upward. “If you had to rate it on a scale, one being hardly anything and ten being the worst?”

“...Usually two or three.” He pauses, and she waits. “...Sometimes four or five.”

“How often, for the worst of it?”

He thinks. “Maybe twice or three times a month.” It’s a bit more often than that, but not by a lot.

She notes it on the paper; that must be a normal range. “Alright. I’ll check with chakra, now.” Her fingers come back to his stump, touching more firmly now. Green chakra starts to thread its way in.

Sakura frowns, after a second. “Nerve endings are a little inflamed. I’ll fix it.” The flow of her chakra increases, and he feels almost instant relief; he supposes it still hurt, faintly. Maybe he just got used to it. “Has it hurt in the last day or so?”

“...Late last night.”

She nods, as if that makes sense. “It won’t take too long. Maybe five minutes.”

He inclines his head just barely, not wanting to move while she’s working.

“You should let me know if it hurts again,” she suggests quietly, after a moment. “It doesn’t take much to fix.”

“...Okay.”

There is a comfortable silence for a few minutes as she works. He feels the chakra start to dilute a little towards the end of it.

“I’m going to stop my chakra and manually massage the tissue, now. It should help prolong the effect.”

He feels her chakra dissipate. She has done this to him before, throughout the rehabilitation process following the war; it was more important then, she’d said, to develop tolerance to touch and pressure of the residual limb. It had hurt, the first few times, but later in the healing process, he had secretly enjoyed it; it made it hurt much less, and the process itself felt… nice.

He had privately wondered what it would feel like on his back.

It elicits the same response now, too, kneading fingertips gradually increasing pressure to access deeper tissue, helping to work away pain that has lived there for a while.

"You wear your hair differently now," she comments after an incredibly nice period of time, still pressing tenderly in little circles, though the pressure is starting to taper off now, since they’re getting towards the end of five minutes; that was roughly the time she would do back then. Since there’s no chakra anymore, it must require less of her concentration.

He realizes he hasn’t shifted his hair back into place yet, then. He takes a moment, then responds quietly, furtively, "Most people dislike looking at the Rinnegan."

She doesn’t respond right away; just finishes massaging the end of his stump, then removes her hands to pick up her pen.

"Not me," she murmurs softly as she makes her final notations.

His heart flips in his chest, and he feels his face grow warm. He's glad she's focusing on the forms, so she can't see the effect her words have had.

The lozenge has dissolved fully, and his throat isn't as sore.

XXX

Sasuke goes to the Hokage’s office, after, to see if the dobe is there. He has some time to kill before lunch, and he wants to take him up on his offer to spar at some point, given that his eyes are freshly healed. Now that he knows Sakura’s schedule for the next few days, he can fill the rest of his time with whatever else. He’ll see her tomorrow at four, at the hospital, and then at Ichiraku’s on Saturday, and then for a bit after, too; they still need to confirm an actual time for that with Naruto and Kakashi. He assumes Sunday and Monday must be her days off. If they’re not, she works too much. He’s going to ask her tomorrow, he thinks.

Oddly, he finds only Kakashi in his office.

“Ah, Sasuke. Good morning,” he greets as he walks through the doors.

“...Morning.”

The copy ninja sizes him up with a single eye for a long moment, as if considering what to ask him. Sasuke braces himself.

"You got your physical done."

Sakura had said after the bloodwork was complete, she’d drop off the paperwork for him. "...I did."

"It went well, I assume."

"...It did."

"Wonderful," he says quietly, sounding pensive.

There is a very long pause.

“And the date, with Sakura this morning, before that? That went well, also?”

Sasuke deliberates. There is no teasing lilt to his old sensei's voice this time, just genuine curiosity, so he answers honestly, even though his neck warms and he doesn’t quite appreciate being spied on. “...It did.”

Kakashi gives him one of the widest and most genuine smiles he has ever seen him wear, beneath the mask.

“Wonderful,” the copy ninja says again, this time teeming clearly with pride and meaning.

“...Yeah.” Sasuke agrees, looking anywhere but at him.

Kakashi shuffles a few papers around his desk, and starts talking again, as if Sasuke has not just admitted to something he’s sure their sensei had suspicions about for the better portion of eight years. “Well, Naruto’s not here; I’m assuming that’s who you were looking for. Hinata’s leaving for a mission later today, around one, so I gave him the day off. I kind of assumed he’d use the opportunity to seek you out for a spar in the afternoon, after she leaves. He was going on about it yesterday, along with a Team Seven dinner on Saturday night; sounds like that will be at six.”

Sasuke just blinks, gears turning still; the scroll from yesterday is still on the desk, so he's not sure why he'd grant Naruto another day off so easily.

Kakashi further clarifies, smile shifting into something more sly. “I wouldn’t go over there before a little after one, if I were you.”

His first thought is oh, and he feels rather stupid. His next thought is gross. His old sensei is grinning, as if his reaction amuses him; he must have made some kind of face that belayed his internal thought process.

“Ah, love requited and besotten newlyweds. What a time." Sasuke's neck burns again, because he realizes after a second that the ‘love requited' portion of that is referring to Sakura and himself. Kakashi's moving on, though. "Anyway, now that I’ve given you too much information…” His voice trails off, and he looks at the intricate scroll tucked away at the table beside his desk, where Naruto usually sits. “If you’re not busy and want something to do until lunch, you could take a look at this scroll for me, since Naruto won’t be getting to it today.” He appears to be thinking, then adds. “For all his progress, he can still be less than perceptive, in certain instances. Your assistance could be invaluable, since I’m occupied with other tasks at the moment.”

Sasuke ponders for a bit; he has already read a good portion of the way through his books, and it’ll be a few hours before he needs to eat. It's not lost on him that this involves a level of trust in him on Kakashi's part, as whatever is in the scroll is likely not public knowledge.

He decides it can’t hurt, though he hopes he doesn’t get asked any more questions about Sakura. He makes his way to take Naruto’s seat, opening up the scroll.

He stares at it long and hard, rolling it out on the table to examine it more closely. Kakashi wordlessly grabs the stapler on his desk and sets it on the top end of the parchment, to hold it in place as he further unravels it. It appears to be a cipher, and quite a complicated one.

“...You think Naruto’s going to be able to crack this?” Sasuke questions incredulously, glancing towards his old sensei with his brows furrowed in doubt. His eyes catch as he does so on the framed photograph sitting on his desk; from this angle, the side instead of the front, he can now see that it’s their original Team Seven photo. He hasn't seen it in a long time.

Kakashi chuckles, not looking up from his paperwork. “Not at all, which is why I was helping him with it yesterday. It’s good practice for him, though, and at the very least, it does keep him busy when I don't have anything else for him to do.”

XXX

Sasuke ambles back to his apartment around noon. He made some progress on the cipher, enough that Kakashi said Naruto might actually be able to take it from there. It feels good to be of use.

It also feels good to have something to give the idiot shit over, when he goes to visit him later.

He empties the cough drops from his pocket into one of the cups he bought yesterday, and pops another one into his mouth before he starts getting out ingredients to cook. It feels good on his throat, menthol pleasantly numbing despite the slightly sweet taste. He pours a hefty amount of rice into a pot to start boiling, and then begins slicing carrots and scallions and mushrooms for takikomi gohan. It takes a while to slice with one arm, as holding the vegetables in place with one hand is a challenge, but he manages by summoning a clone. Once he’s done, he slips them in a pan with some salt and dashi stock. He also adds frozen peas before covering it with the lid to simmer.

Once that’s going, he washes his hand, then folds the comforter he had washed and left out to dry this morning, ultimately storing it in the closet. He stirs the vegetable mixture occasionally, after, reading more of his book while he waits for the rice to finish. The one about kenjutsu is more interesting than he thought it would be. He might finish it by the time he sees Sakura tomorrow.

He really hopes he can walk her home again; he hadn’t gotten a chance to kiss her today. She might not want him to, if she thinks he's sick, but somehow he suspects she likely understood it wasn't actual illness. She's good at what she does, and smart.

It’s a simple but savory lunch, a larger portion than he’s accustomed to. He eats all of it, albeit slowly, as he reads.

Uncannily, an abrupt and earsplitting knocking erupts on his door as he puts the last bite in his mouth to chew.

“TEME! Open up!” More incessant knocking. “I’m fucking bored, and Kakashi-sensei gave me the day off! Let’s spar!”

Sasuke rolls his eyes and closes his book before standing to rinse his dish, setting it in the sink to wash later, along with the pot and pan already rinsed and stacked there.

“Alright, dobe. You don’t need to bust down my door.”

He grabs another cough drop and removes the tape and cotton from his arm before he goes. It’s a little tender, but the blood has clotted by now.

#naruto #sasusaku #ssfanfiction #cherry writes #like gold #fanfiction #this timely update brought to you by my pure unadulterated spite for studio pierrot

[madlymiho]

Hellooo, 👋🏼 thank you for randomly selecting me, haha. :D May I request an Ace scenario, where he and fem! Reader are just having a chaotic snowball fight and then later, after getting just so tired out, go in for a nice warm bath together and perhaps leads to some nsfw in the end? It’s up to you, to how soft or rough it can be, because either one would be just as interesting. Hopefully this is the right amount of detail— and please take your time! 🥰 thank you so much again!! 🤍🥺☺️

Hello there! 🥰🙈 it sounds like a nice idea! I don't know what's the matter with those snowball fights but it all put you in a naughty mood! 😈😈

I'm on it! 😋

Winter Event #3

Words: 1740

Warning: NSFW content - foreplays - edging

Informations: fem! reader

Warm Up

It’s freezing but you won’t certainly let you guard down! You feel the coldness bites the tip of your fingers, as you begin to gather more snow, cupping and pressing your hands together to create the perfect round shape, soft but strong enough to gently harm your victim. You let loose a profound sigh, focused, as you stand back up and target your enemy. You don’t even have time to properly throw it that you receive a large snowball right on your nose in a loud splash, earning another gasp from you, as you both laugh and growl because you don’t know how to react anymore.

“Hey that’s bullshit!” You hiss as you wipe the melting snow from your features. “You can’t use your power to pulse yourself in the air, Ace! You’re cheating!”

You hear his bright and happy laugh echoing in the valley, as he’s floating a few meters above the ground, watching you with his playful dark eyes, and raising an eyebrow.

“I messaged the Corporation of Snowball Fights, and they haven’t updated the rules regarding the use of devil fruit powers!” He raises his index, giving you a lecture, as you definitely feel the everlasting teasing tone.

You cross your arms impatiently around your chest, steam coming out of your lips.

“Well did you ask the Corporation of Bullshit about your attitude?!”

You definitely see the mischief gleaming in the back of his eyes, as Ace decides to mess around with you a little bit more, rushing on you and throwing you into the soft pile of snow behind you, covering your face with the white powder. You scream and fight back, wiggling your legs and arms as you feel the snow entering your clothes, touching your bare skin as you chirp that it’s enough! What a damn kid, this one! You laugh brightly, but you feel so tired now, and frozen, and you really wish to come inside the ship and get warm before your stupid boyfriend would eventually kill you with all that snow sneaking inside of your supposedly warm coat. You kiss him to ring the truce, your cold lips immediately reacting to the natural warmness of his body; and you feel it increasing slightly, as the snowflakes around your bodies are going back to their liquid form.

“I’m too cold to stay here…” You mumble against his lips, and close your eyes, appreciating the warmth sensation emanating from his body. “I need to warm up.”

He flushes slightly, his dark eyes locked on your features as eventually open your eyelids to see the flames suddenly surrounding his shoulders.

“Not like that!” You protest, even if there’s a big smile plastered on your lips. “Last time you burnt my favorite sweatshirt, I demand to have a bath, anything, but not your dangerous flames on my body!”

He rolls his eyes and helps you get back on your feet flushing you right away against his chest as he devours the crook of your neck.

“Are you really complaining?” He mumbles against your skin, peppering the area with the softest smooshes, as you wonder for a bit if you won’t be the one making the snow melt around you right now. “Last time, I clearly remember that you wanted me to try that thing on you…”

The soft purr of his voice is enough to put you in a second state, a very needy one, but as you definitely believe you shouldn’t stay outside one more second, you eventually find the courage to push on his chest to silently ask him to step back. He kisses the tip of your nose as an answer, and then tugs a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Fine, let’s go have a bath.” He offers after a moment, squeezing your frozen fingers between his warm hands.

A few minutes later, you’re finally both sharing a bit of intimacy on the ship. A lot of the Whitebeard’s pirates are busy elsewhere, probably looting for their future Christmas gifts, as everyone is preparing the season. Thatch gave enough instructions to bring back wagons of food for the big feast, and for once, both of you have been exempted of duties. You understood it was somehow an early Christmas gift, since you have been quite depraved of any kind of intimacy in the past few weeks. Both hidden in that little warm cocoon, inside the bathroom, you both feel that desperate need to touch the other one. As the water is filling the bathtub, covering the mirrors with a cloud of steam, you’re both standing in the middle of the room. Ace is slowly undressing you, layer after layer, throwing your clothes on the floor as his mouth is attacking every single inch of your body, his skillful fingers traveling everywhere. He squeezes your hips with the gentlest gesture, his mouth nibbling your neck, his hands cupping your breasts when they are eventually free from your bra. Your next kiss is hungry, but terribly slow, enjoying that more than needed reward, tongues dancing together as you unbuckle his pants, and slide them down his thighs, grabbing his underwear in the same motion. He’s erected. You definitely understand that he wants to have more, and you’re clearly not in the mood to deny him. A soft breath escapes your lips as you roll your digits around his shaft, slowly coming up and down, as you can’t miss the shiver coming from his body. After a moment, though, he eventually put a hand over your wrist, kissing your cheek tenderly.

“Jump in the bath first. You’re trembling.” He murmurs, voice so romantic and caring that you remember how tender he can be despite his childish attitude sometimes.

You nod, your nipples so hard that they are almost hurting you, both because of the general cold atmosphere, but also your deep excitement. You carefully enter the warm water, a soft growl rolling in your throat, feeling at ease for sure. Ace doesn’t waste anymore time as well, and quickly joins you, sitting slowly while he takes place behind your back. He knows it’s a bit unfair for you, yet he has always preferred to play a bit with your emotions and your body, and clearly he wants to have the lead once more.

As soon as you’re both comfortable, you see one his hand moving from the edge of the bathtub to disappear under the ills of bubbles and soap, already looking for something to touch. He lingers his fingers on your belly, slowly, so slowly, coming up to eventually cup your right breast, his thumb rolling on your hard nipple, his mouth teasing your earlobe with the tip of his careful tongue. It feels like the water is slightly warming up, perhaps a side effect of his own body, even if Ace is quite less efficient in that kind of area; the water drains a good amount of his energy. However, it doesn’t stop him from wanting to please you, his other hand entering the dance, bolder than the other one. He presses it on your thigh, silently intimating you the order to open your legs a bit more, enough for him to slide his slender fingers up and down, always skimming the most sensitive part of your body, without truly touching it.

“Always messing around…” You sigh, eyes lidded, your head resting against his chest as you tilt it slightly, offering him more space for his mouth to explore your skin. “Whether it’d be a snowball fight or a bath, you’re always so unfair…”

“Am I not a pirate after all?” He hums, and chuckles, his voice vibrating against your ear. His hand is now pressed against your core, his index toying your sensitive lips. “I never play by the book. It’s boring to follow the rules.”

You wish to answer him, but nothing can leave your throat as you feel the sudden pressure of his thumb on your clit, and one of his fingers sliding inside of you. Your arch your back, one of your hands gripping the edge of the bathtub, the other one attacking your own breast to massage it. An invitation Ace doesn’t miss for sure, his own erection twitching behind your back.

“If you really want to play with something…” He whispers, rolling his thumb harder over your swelling clit, guiding your hand on your breast to his erect cock. “You can have fun with that.”

You nod, slowly losing the notion of time and space, eyes closed to feel everything. Fingers wrapped around his shaft, you’re jerking him at the same pace he’s fingering you, sometimes gasping when he suddenly increases his pace, or adds another finger. With his other hand, he plays with your breasts, groping them, massaging them, until he eventually slides his digits up to grip your chin and turn your head to steal a very sloppy kiss. At this point, your lips never go apart, his movements down there becoming even more intense. He doesn’t let you think about anything else but his digits playing with you so actively, as you feel his own excitement growing thanks to your ministrations. He bucks his hips from time to time, when your thumb so cockily gathers the precum oozing from his head. Each time you’re trying to push the game, each time he’s punishing you by edging you a bit more.

“Ace… Ace…” You moan as it becomes unbearable to feel him this way, your clit so swollen that you can burst at any moment. “Please, I want to come so badly…”

“Are you conceding another victory, Name?” He groans, his own cock becoming painful. Fuck he can’t control himself anymore as well. “I guess we can have a draw for once.”

Both of your movements are becoming even more passionate, the water sometimes splashing out of the bathtub, feeling the orgasm coming. Lips sealed one more time, moans swallowed in the other one’s throat, you eventually reach Nirvana, sweat and water dripping down from your faces, both of your chest raising up and down in the same erratic motion. You both slump in the bathtub, completely drained for a few seconds. He eventually chuckles, his voice weaker than before ; truly you’ll have to leave the bath soon before he would collapse.

“I guess that was a good way to warm you up.” He teases, offering you another of his everlasting playing smile.

#one piece headcanons #one piece scenario #portgas d. ace #ace one piece #one piece ace #portgas d. ace x reader #one piece imagines #one piece headcanon #winter event #ace one piece x reader #lemon #not suitable #ns.fw #fem reader #tooweirdforyou #queued

[robininthelabyrinth]

Delight in Misery (ao3) - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

- Chapter 8: Interlude -

Author note: This chapter is an interlude that contains JC/LWJ adult content. It can be skipped without impacting the remainder of the story.

-

“This is an idea so stupid that I can’t believe Wei Wuxian wasn’t that one to think of it,” Jiang Cheng said.

Lan Wangji didn’t disagree. If either of them had any sense whatsoever, they’d call off this whole idea before it was too late and they did something that permanently damaged the delicate balance of the life they’d built together forever – and they had, somehow, built a life together, cobbled together out of convenience and tragedy and the fact that no one else in this rotten world would understand what it was to miss someone like Wei Wuxian.

It was utter recklessness to throw it away for – what? Indulging some curiosity? Killing some time out of boredom, now that the Lotus Pier had finally quieted down enough for Jiang Cheng to no longer need to work from sunrise until sunset? Now that Lan Wangji didn’t have to hide himself away at all hours, afraid that someone would see him coming and going?

“You don’t even like me like that,” Jiang Cheng complained mutinously, and glared when Lan Wangji nodded in confirmation. “Wow. Thanks a lot.”

“We don’t have to proceed,” Lan Wangji pointed out.

“No, we’re doing this,” Jiang Cheng said at once, because he was contrary down to the last inch of him. “Take off your clothing already. No matter what the Lan sect may think, there are circumstances that call for not wearing four layers of clothing, and sex is definitely one of them.”

Because that was what they were apparently doing.

This was all Mo Xuanyu’s fault for leaving his books lying around – Jiang Cheng had finally succumbed to pressure and ordered his steward to get some for him – and in particular a spring book with pictures that went beyond the merely suggestive into the explicit. Jiang Cheng had picked it up while neatening up the room and gawked for enough time to make a cup of tea; when Lan Wangji had politely asked if he’d perhaps been abruptly struck blind by the contents and, if so, if there was any medicine he would like Lan Wangji to fetch for him, Jiang Cheng had instead turned to him and said, very frankly, “This cannot be a thing people actually do.”

Lan Wangji had, with great patience and an expression of intense suffering, held out his hands for the book.

The years following his awkward initial interaction with Wei Wuxian – the discovery of his own inclinations, the confirmation that they were irrevocably set in that way, his eventual acceptance of that fact – had led him to explore the more idiosyncratic portions of the Lan library. He was no longer the boy that had spluttered and cursed when tricked into looking at some (fairly run of the mill, in retrospect) pornography.

“Mm,” he’d said after a brief examination. “Real.”

“Impossible. Why would anyone -?”

Lan Wangji hadn’t bothered to dignify that with a response.

“It can’t possibly feel good,” Jiang Cheng had protested.

Lan Wangji had graced him with a pitying look. He hadn’t experienced the act in question with another person, of course, but his older brother had been perhaps unduly interested in ensuring that Lan Wangji had access to anything he might need to assuage his curiosity regarding his unorthodox affections, and, well, the Lan sect did always value a thorough approach to learning.

In other words, he’d read a lot.

It might have been left at that, a casual conversation between friends, except that Lan Wangji must have been suddenly possessed by the spirit of Wei Wuxian because he felt compelled to add, “Not that you would ever have a chance to find out.”

And that, of course, was that; once Jiang Cheng’s competitive instincts were awakened, there was absolutely nothing for it but a test to determine who was right.

Little details as to whether or not Jiang Cheng was even attracted to men enough for the question even to matter were dismissed as irrelevant.

And that was how they’d ended up here. About to go to bed. Together.

Though – perhaps that wasn’t exactly how it had started.

Perhaps it had started earlier, when Jiang Cheng had started helping Lan Wangji with those very particular physical reactions he’d had during the period he’d been too weak to do it himself, or perhaps when he’d continued to help him with it long after the trauma of it was no longer so near as to make it impossible for him to use his hands on himself.

Perhaps Lan Wangji should have been the one to stop that – the one to say no, no more, it’s unnecessary, thank you. But in those years of seclusion he had seen so few people, and seen Jiang Cheng most of all; he hadn’t quite been able to give up the desire for the touch of a human hand against his skin. To give up the intimacy of the act, for all that Jiang Cheng routinely brought him to completion as casually as if he were merely rebandaging his wounds, was simply impossible. Nothing could detract from the satisfaction he obtained, even if Jiang Cheng often spent the time talking about something else entirely, complaining about his day or a particularly irritating set of paperwork.

(There was a period in which Lan Wangji had briefly started to develop unsavory connections to the subject of dam rebuilding – luckily the dam project had ended before it had become a real problem.)

At minimum Lan Wangji should have put a stop to it once he was no longer secluded: when he had Lan Xichen’s embraces, gentle nudges from visiting Lan disciples, all the regular physical contact he had grown up with, and now all the casual affection that passed between Jiang sect disciples, of which he was considered an honorary member…it was more than enough to satisfy any skin hunger that might have been compelling him to continue with that inappropriate behavior that neither of them saw as important enough to name.

It had become a habit by then, though, a part of the routine, and the Lan sect thrived on routine.

“You have to remove yours as well,” he reminded Jiang Cheng, folding his clothing up neatly. If they had been lovers, perhaps Jiang Cheng would have been staring at him at this moment – perhaps he would have been tracing Lan Wangji’s body with his eyes, hunger and anticipation on his features – but they weren’t lovers. They were just friends, and that was why Jiang Cheng was fighting to get his shoe off (it had grown too small after too many washings and was starting to fall apart but he inexplicably refused to get new ones) instead of examining a body he’d seen naked a thousand times already during Lan Wangji’s slow recovery. “Do you –”

“If you offer to assist me, I will punch you,” Jiang Cheng threatened, and finally got the shoe off. “And if I hear one word about me needing to replace it –”

“You do.”

“It’s fine. It does the job! What else do you want from a shoe, damnit?” The other shoe was removed. “Leave me alone. I don’t need your help.”

The rest of his clothing came afterwards, tossed casually onto a chair, and Lan Wangji watched out of lack of anything better to do. In the years that had passed he had also seen Jiang Cheng’s body many times, an inevitable result of living across from each other in a place as hot as Yunmeng. Jiang Cheng was undeniably beautiful, all long lines and slender, his flesh marred by the discipline whip as Lan Wangji’s own had been, although in much lower quantity.

No, Lan Wangji concluded. This would not be the problem he had almost been concerned that it would be. For all that Lan Wangji’s heart belonged to Wei Wuxian and always would, his body had no objection to the idea of trying out something new.

“I assume at least some help is not unwelcome,” Lan Wangji said dryly, standing and walking over to put his hand on Jiang Cheng’s cock. At Jiang Cheng’s mild exclamation, Lan Wangji arched his eyebrows. “You can’t even do this? I may have overestimated your bravery.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jiang Cheng said, although he was clearly flustered; he reached out to assist Lan Wangji in the same manner. His palm was callused and warm, as always; Lan Wangji’s cock stirred at once at the familiar stimulus. “It’s been a while since it was someone else, that’s all.”

“You’ve had experience?”

“There’s no need to sound so skeptical about it. I was a teenager once too, you know; Wei Wuxian and I – hey, watch it!”

Lan Wangji relaxed his grip apologetically. “You did for Wei Ying as you do for me?” he asked, and didn’t even care when Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes at his obvious and immediate fascination. It was a good thing that neither of them had any illusions about Wei Wuxian’s role in their friendship, the ghost of him that hung over it all; if they pretended otherwise, they might have hurt each other. “How did he..?”

“You’re not seriously asking me that question,” Jiang Cheng said, but of course Lan Wangji was.

Jiang Cheng glared at him, but Lan Wangji was patient, and as with all things relating to Jiang Cheng, his patience was rewarded.

“You’re a little more direct,” Jiang Cheng finally said, rolling his eyes once again to demonstrate how ridiculous he thought Lan Wangji was being. “You like long strokes, like this, very purposeful – his preference was a bit more playful. A bit of teasing around the head, like this, and then a bit with the thumb…listen, if you’re going to turn that shade of red this quickly, we’re going to have to call this whole idea off.”

“I can do more than once.”

“I’ll give you the whole rundown another time, you pervert,” Jiang Cheng promised, and Lan Wangji’s cock twitched at the thought of it. “Can we please focus on proving you horribly wrong already?”

“I’m not wrong.”

“So you say.”

Lan Wangji rolled his eyes and resumed moving his hand on Jiang Cheng’s cock. It felt nice in his hand, filling out as he stroked it. “Why?” he asked after a moment.

“Why what? Why did Wei Wuxian and I get each other off?”

“En.”

“We were young and stupid, obviously,” Jiang Cheng said. “He was my shixiong. We shared everything, figured everything out together…it wasn’t that weird, okay? It was just lending a friendly hand. Literally.”

Lan Wangji could imagine it. The scene sprang up fully formed in his eyes: Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian as he remembered them from the Cloud Recesses, cheeks still a little fat with youth and glistening from perspiration from the humid Yunmeng air, sitting together side-by-side on a bed with their hands in each other’s laps. Perhaps even the bed he slept in now, or Jiang Cheng’s. And perhaps even back then Jiang Cheng liked to talk of other things while he was performing the chore – his lessons, perhaps.

Perhaps they’d even done it for each other while they’d been at the Cloud Recesses…

“Did you do anything more?” he asked, licking suddenly dry lips.

Jiang Cheng blinked at him. “Like what?”

Perhaps it was petty to use their conversation as an excuse to step forward into Jiang Cheng’s personal space, to use his free hand to rub up and down his chest and tweak his nipples, to use teeth and tongue liberally on his neck, on his shoulder, his collarbone, until Jiang Cheng’s knees had grown so weak from surprise and pleasure that Lan Wangji had to loop his arm around his waist to help support him –

But if there was one thing Jiang Cheng had taught him in all these years, it was that there were times when being petty was the best possible option.

“Can I use my mouth on you?” he asked, and took the incoherent spluttering and vague hand-waving he received as a yes. “Sit down on the bed and lean back.”

Jiang Cheng obeyed without a single complaint, which Lan Wangji accepted as the compliment it was.

“I think I can definitively say no, just so you know,” he observed as Lan Wangji lowered himself down to his knees. “I did not do anything like this with Wei Wuxian.”

“Did you ever want to?” Lan Wangji asked, mildly curious, and then he leaned down and put his mouth on Jiang Cheng’s cock.

“Am I supposed to be having a conversation with you about this?” Jiang Cheng demanded, thrashing underneath his ministrations. Lan Wangji had to hold his hips down with his hands, using a little force. “Now?”

Lan Wangji purposefully stopped moving.

“You are a piece of shit, you know that?” Fingers made their way into Lan Wangji’s hair, careful to avoid his forehead ribbon as they lightly tugged – hmm, that was rather nice, actually. Lan Wangji mentally noted down the preference. “Fine. Ugh. No, I didn’t. It wasn’t like that. It really did just start out innocent, you know. Us being boys and all, measuring the difference in size and all –”

Jiang Cheng paused and rolled his eyes down at Lan Wangji, who had perhaps overly demonstrated his interested in hearing more.

“– yes, you obsessed stalker, I’m getting there. He was longer, I was wider; we called it a tie. Later on, we got drunk and started talking about how we were both worried that we were doing it wrong, except, you know, that would have been way too embarrassing…you know how we were. It turned into a dumb sort of competition about who could do it better, which one of us was the one doing it wrong, who was doing it right – we got into a lot of stupid contests like that.”

A brief pause.

“Don’t say that I’m stating the obvious.”

Lan Wangji’s mouth was full, which was probably the only reason he wasn’t. He really had lost all sense of self-control when it came to deliberately irritating Jiang Cheng, and he wasn’t sure when that had happened. His uncle would be disappointed in him again.

Good.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Jiang Cheng muttered. He’d gotten into the groove of things, his hips rocking slightly as Lan Wangji sucked him, careful not to go too far or too fast for fear of making Lan Wangji gag again – though to be fair, that had been mostly Lan Wangji’s fault for being overly ambitious in trying to take him in too deep that time. The real thing really wasn’t anything like the jade pillar he’d practiced on. “This is ridiculous. You’d better never expect me to do this for you. No way.”

Lan Wangji didn’t bother responding.

“I mean, I guess if my hands were broken. It’s not like I couldn’t do it. I’ve put worse things in my mouth, over the years.”

No response was necessary. Jiang Cheng’s complex about needing to be the best at everything – or at least skilled enough to be respected – was truly a fearsome thing.

Though speaking of which...

Lan Wangji reached with one hand to pull over the small packet of thickened, scented oil that he’d obtained long ago, dipping his fingers into it and working one finger, then another, into Jiang Cheng.

“How do you even think of these things?” Jiang Cheng complained, because he wouldn’t be Jiang Cheng if he didn’t complain. “You must have done nothing but read spring books day and night – hey, wait! What are you doing? I’m going to be the one on top! Not you!”

Lan Wangji hummed and removed his mouth – Jiang Cheng whined in complaint – and then lifted one of Jiang Cheng’s legs, pressing his cock against him. He didn’t get a fist in the face, even when he rocked back and forth teasingly, his cock sliding right up to Jiang Cheng’s slicked-up entrance and then away.

“…just go ahead and do it already!”

Lan Wangji’s analytical mind temporarily blanked out when he pushed inside. It was hot and tight around him, squeezing him – it felt good. Very good.

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng said. His voice was a little unstable, almost breathy. “Fuck.”

“If you insist,” Lan Wangji said, and began moving his hips before Jiang Cheng could correct him. Jiang Cheng grunted as if the sound had been punched out of him. Fucked out of him. “How is it?”

“Why are you asking me, don’t you already – Lan Wangji. You said the picture in the book was realistic.”

Lan Wangji hummed in agreement.

“I assumed that meant you’d done it before.”

That seemed like a Jiang Cheng problem.

“Lan Wangji! Are you saying you don’t know what you’re doing?!”

“I’ve read a lot of spring books,” Lan Wangji said dryly, and started to really put his back into it, long thrusts that felt fantastic to him and from the looks of it not all that bad to Jiang Cheng, either. After a few thrusts, he apparently hit the place described in the books, if he were judging by Jiang Cheng’s sudden moans and a notable increasing in generalized cursing, as opposed to cursing his name in specific.

Lan Wangji finished first, which increased the amount of cursing by a significant degree.

“I can’t believe you –!”

“Would you like to finish in my mouth?”

“It is,” Jiang Cheng hissed at him, “the very least you could do!”

Jiang Cheng was much less polite this time as he fucked his way into Lan Wangji’s mouth, his hands firmly gripping Lan Wangji’s hair and pulling him into place, forcing his way deeper with brutal snaps of his hips.

Despite having recently been wrung dry, Lan Wangji’s cock did its best to give an interested twitch, and Lan Wangji noted that down as well. Perhaps next time he should encourage Jiang Cheng to be the one on top, to see if he would enjoy the sensation more if it was someone else doing the fucking rather than a toy carved out of jade. After all, Jiang Cheng had certainly responded well enough to it.

Lan Wangji was moderately sure there would be another time. Jiang Cheng was not a man motivated by sex – remarkably so, in fact. If anything, he seemed to view physical pleasure, even at his own hand, as a perfectly decent activity, but nothing worth kicking up a fuss over, little different from a massage or a round of acupuncture; neither something especially desirable nor repulsive. As Jiang Cheng himself had admitted, he hadn’t experienced the touch of another since his youthful experimentation with Wei Wuxian, even though Lan Wangji was well aware that he’d received plenty of offers from all types of types of people over the years, and yet the lack hadn’t seemed to bother him.

If not for Lan Wangji, he probably would have continued on with his life without thinking about it any further, either, except perhaps in the theoretical box in his mind that he’d earmarked for having a wife, which he seemed to want only because everyone was expected to want a wife.

That competitive streak again.

But he did have Lan Wangji, who was not naturally inclined towards abstinence, and now that they’d opened the door to having a friendship that included certain additional benefits, he had no intention of shutting that door absent any indication from Jiang Cheng that it no longer suited him.

After all, Jiang Cheng might yet have a wife one day, assuming a patient enough marvel could be found – but Lan Wangji was a Lan, born and bred true, and he would only have one love in his life; he had fallen long ago, chosen long ago. Wei Wuxian was gone, and he would never regret it, nor love another. It had been living with Jiang Cheng, being friends with him, that had taught him to remember joy; what was this, then, but more of the same?

Of course, that was assuming that Jiang Cheng would agree in the future to sate Lan Wangji’s rather prodigious appetites with more than just his hand. He might not. After all, it really wasn’t his area of interest –

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng abruptly said.

Lan Wangji, who was fetching a wet cloth, turned to look at him.

Jiang Cheng was propped up on his elbows, scowling bitterly. “You know what,” he said. “We didn’t even manage to do the right position! The one in the spring book was more – more twisty – you know – with the leg up in the air like that –”

“…mm,” Lan Wangji said. “We’ll do better next time.”

“You’re smirking,” Jiang Cheng said suspiciously. “Why are you smirking? What are you up to?!”

“Nothing,” Lan Wangji said peaceably, putting down the cloth and picking up the oil. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right! I’m – I’m not usually right. Or at least, you don’t normally admit it when I’m right. What am I right about?”

“Did it wrong,” Lan Wangji said, and settled down again. “Need to try again.”

“Try – wait, now? Already?! You can’t be serious!”

Lan Wangji started rearranging limbs. “You’re already prepared,” he pointed out. “‘Avoid needless waste.’”

“Don’t you quote your Lan sect rules at me, Lan Wangji! You’re inhuman! You’re – ah!”

He’d slid right in that time, Lan Wangji observed, all at once in a single smooth slide that made Jiang Cheng moan and his cock start to fill up again; the ease of it must be due to how relaxed Jiang Cheng’s body was after he’d come, and the slickness of both the oil left behind and the new amount he’d added. Definitely a different experience from the previous time, but equally enjoyable.

Well, as he’d said before – the Lan sect always did value a thorough approach to learning.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #delight in misery #if you prefer to avoid JC/LWJ entirely skip this #they're still not romantic though

[kiingocreative]

The Structure of Story is now available! Check it out on Amazon, via the link in our bio, or at https://kiingo.co/book

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Every author starting out will know how important reviews are. If you’re yet to be convinced, here are some fun facts about reviews*:

1. 88% of consumers trust reviews as much as personal recommendations.

2. 72% of consumers will take action after reading a positive review.

3. Positive reviews tell Amazon and Google you’re worth ranking and can boost search results for your book by feeding into SEO (reviews account for almost 10% of total search ranking factors).

So reviews aren’t just a nice to have — they’re critical to the success of a book.

Now, amongst the writers community, we talk a lot about receiving reviews, but less so about giving reviews. I enjoy writing book reviews immensely, because it makes me think about what I’m reading on a different level, and forces me to learn how to articulate that opinion. This is actually one of the main reasons why I got into professional BETA reading.

I was asked recently how I structure my book reviews (all of which can be found on my blog), so here you have it: all the secrets to how I go about writing book reviews, along with some concrete examples!

Start With Why.

The most important question to ask yourself before you even start writing a review is this:

Why do people read book reviews?

In essence, they want to know whether the book is good, what it’s about, and — more importantly — whether they should read it. They generally like some context and detail to back the review so that they feel it’s genuine and trustworthy.

If you can keep in mind what people generally want to get out of a book review, this will help you keep your review relevant and useful. It’ll help you figure out what’s worth including and what isn’t. If in doubt, ask yourself what you would want to read about in a review when you’re trying to decide whether or not to buy a book.

Some Key Questions.

Before you start writing, you also need to ponder a few things. It may not always feel natural to reflect on a book on this level of detail — it didn’t for me at first. I either liked a book, or I loved it, or I didn’t, but I rarely spent a lot of time critically thinking about why I did or didn’t like a read.

If you’re also finding this uncomfortable at first, I say stick with it. I found it extremely interesting to make myself think these things through. It’s made my writing so much better, because I’ve developed that objective evaluation muscle that activates even when I’m with my own work. It’s also made me much better at forming and formulating an opinion, which is something I didn’t use to be good at!

Here are some questions to start with before you start on your review:

• Did you like the book?

• What did you like about it?

• What didn’t you like about it?

• Are there any themes that were particularly well handled?

• Were there any characters you liked above others, and why?

• Would you recommend the book to a friend?

These few questions will start shaping your view of what you’ve read and provide the main elements of your review.

To take your critical reading to the next level, you may want to ponder the various elements of the story and the writing as a whole. Think about:

• The plot / storyline — is it strong? Consistent? Original? Enticing? Are there gaps?

• The characters and character arcs — are all characters well developed? Multi-layered? Do they make sense? Are they relatable?

• The key themes — what are some recurring topics through the story? Are they well handled?

• The pace and timeline — is the story progressing at a good pace? Where does it lag? Does the timeline make sense?

• The writing style — how was the writing style? Did it flow well? Did it feel unique or original?

• The dialogues — did they feel natural? Were they believable? Were they engaging? Did they add to the overall story?

• The editing — how was the editing? Were there any typos or formatting errors?

Example Review Outline

Once you’ve spent some time with those initial questions, you’ll find it gives you the best part of your review content. At first, you may want to note down your answers to each of these. With time, you may find you can process these in your mind faster than you did before, and you don’t need so many notes. Whichever way is right for you, once you have this, you’re ready to start structuring your review.

I tend to use the following outline (though, of course, this isn’t the one and only way to write a review!):

1. Star Rating:

It’s most common in this day and age to include a rating in your review. There are talks out there about not leaving a rating on a book, because these can be extremely subjective — someone’s three-star rating may mean they loved the book but for others it’s a negative rating, some people don’t leave five-star reviews out of principle etc.

If you’re reviewing the book on Amazon and Goodreads however, you don’t have a choice but to pick a rating out of five stars. Have a think about how that rating system relates to you. For instance: would you leave five star ratings? What rating do you use for a book you liked versus a book you absolutely loved? What kind of book would warrant a low-rating? etc.

2. Opening:

Start with a short overview of what you thought of the book. This should give the reader a concise view of what you thought of the book, in two or three sentences. The idea is that, if they read only this opening part of the review, they should know your view on the matter.

Here’s an example opening paragraph I wrote for Heart of a Runaway Girl by Trevor Wiltzen:

‘Heart of a Runaway Girl is a breath of fresh air. As far as crime and murder investigation novels go, I only ever read Agatha Christie, so my standard is high. But this book did not disappoint.’

3. Synopsis:

The next section of the review is a short summary of the book, which should give the main elements of the plot. I tend to keep that part really short because I find that, if anyone wants to know the specifics, the book blurb the author so diligently wrote for the back cover is a much better place to learn more about that. Yes, you need to give a sense of what the book’s about, but it shouldn’t be the bulk of the review.

I think this is a matter of personal preference, I’ve seen reviews out there with a much longer synopsis section, but I always find myself skipping those bits to get to the nitty gritty of the review, which is what the person thought. There again, go back to the why — people who read reviews do so to find out whether or not they want to buy a book, so the more valuable pieces to help with that (in my view) are your opinions, more than an in-depth summary which they can find elsewhere.

For instance, when I reviewed Counter Ops by Jessica Scurlock, the second opus in the Pretty Lies series, I kept the synopsis paragraph to:

‘In Counter Ops, we meet a familiar duo, Ivy and Nixon, as they face the aftermath of the Elite Auction, and each endure its painful consequences. We follow their journey as they try to escape their fate and attempt to come to each other’s rescue — in more ways than one.’

4. Highlights:

The next part is what I call the ‘highlights’. This is where you talk about what you liked most about the book, or what you thought the strongest parts of the book were. This can focus on one element of the book (a character, a part of the plot, a theme etc.) or cover multiple elements.

See, for example, the highlights I picked for my review of Age of the Almek by Tara Lake:

‘I loved the author's ability to give every character their own voice and a distinct perspective on the world around them. I loved how involved I became with every character's fate and woes. I loved the precision with which the Almek world has been created, with such minuteness you can picture it down to the finest details.

My favourite part is the portrayal of the many facets of human nature, be it through the reactions of the masses to the barbaric ways of their rulers or the individual views of the protagonists. In every Almek citizen is a piece of the great puzzle that is humanity at large, and the author has a gift for writing it as raw and real as it gets.’

5. Mitigate your view:

Right after the highlights is where you’d add anything that mitigates your view. That’s anything that wasn’t quite as strong as you’d want it to be, or anything you weren’t a fan of.

You can skip this part if there’s nothing you didn’t like about the book — you don’t have to go nitpicking if nothing comes to mind. And it doesn’t have to be a bashing of the author and their work either. Keep it constructive and explain why you felt that way. There’s never a need for insults or expletives, and these wouldn’t enhance the quality of your review anyways. Formulating constructive criticism takes practice, and requires tact and subtlety. It’s a valuable skill to have if you’re willing to invest time in honing it.

Here’s how I phrased that part of the review for Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan:

‘But - and there's a but - my qualm with this book is that, for a story that revolves entirely around Nick and Rachel... There's actually very little Nick and Rachel in it!

Yes it's all 'about' them and it talks 'of' them loads, and we're told theyare happy together and want to be together... But it's all 'tell' and no 'show'. Their intimacy is sorely lacking, so I was left missing that added colour to convince me that they, in fact, do love each other. And I'm not talking saucy passages — I 'm talking about basic things suchas them actually talking to each other and spending time together.’

6. Conclusion:

The final part of the review is a short paragraph with closing remarks, such as a short summary of your view on the book, whether or not you recommend it or some indication of what readers the book may be for (e.g. ‘if you liked… you may like this book’).

When I reviewed Collision by Kristen Granata, I ended the review with:

‘Readers used to intricate, far-fetched romance plots may find this book too straightforward for their liking. In my mind, this is what makes the book's key strength: it's real and honest, it takes the reader through difficult situations and complex emotions beautifully, and that makes it all the more relatable.

A great read overall - and the moment I finished the last page, I was on Amazon ordering the next book in the series!’

How long should a review be?

I don’t think there should be a minimum or maximum word count to a review, though I find that mine end up being around 300 to 500 words. I feel this is a good length because as a reviewer this forces me to be concise and clear in expressing my opinions, and as a reader it’s long enough to give people a sense of the book, but not too long that they’ll drop off before the end.

Final Thoughts: To spoil or not to spoil?

My view on adding spoilers in your review is simple: DON’T.

Try as I might, I can’t fathom what could be gained from adding spoilers to a review. Once again: back to the why. Someone reads a review to find out if they want to read the book themselves. If you ruin the plot for them in that review, what’s the incentive to pick up the book?

It just hurts the author’s chances of making a book sale, and it robs a fellow reader of the joyful rollercoaster of finding out those plot twists at their own pace. Don’t do it, it’s just rude.

*Sources:

www.bookmarketingtools.com

www.searchenginewatch.com

www.dealeron.com

#writingtips #screenwriting #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writers #writing #writerblr #writing advice #writing community #writing resources

[bettydice]

I didn’t expect you to be lonely (too)

Xicheng, Modern AU, JC&WWX reconciliation, E-Rated 

[Read on AO3] 

Chapter 6

Jiang Cheng frowns at the sky, blinking furiously as the rain hits his face. Maybe if he scowls hard enough, the rain will retreat like everyone else that gets close to him.

Next to him, Lan Xichen politely clears his throat. “I have an umbrella. In my bag.”

That works, too.

Since Lan Xichen is taller than him, it’s a bit awkward to hold the umbrella over both of them while still holding on to his hand. But they manage to cross the road and enter the park without getting soaked. There’s a little pavillon not too far from the park entrance and they sit down on the bench.

Once they’re settled down, Lan Xichen closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths and he tightens his grip on Jiang Cheng’s hand, seemingly unconsciously. Jiang Cheng notices with relief the colour returning to his face.

“I’m sorry.” Lan Xichen eventually says.

Jiang Cheng’s heart painfully tightens, when he hears how miserable Lan Xichen sounds. “No apology needed. Do you feel better now?”

“I’m fine. Well… better.” Lan Xichen’s smile is still tense around the edges. He averts his eyes. Jiang Cheng waits for him to say something else, but he doesn’t.

“You should have told me,” Jiang Cheng blurts out, much more gruffly sounding than intended. Fuck. “I mean… Tell me, next time. It’s okay.”

“Mhm?”

“When you get overwhelmed. Tell me, when you need to leave or something. Better, tell me where you’d feel comfortable going. Only if you want to do this again, of course. I don’t want to assume…” Jiang Cheng looks down at their linked hands, then back at Lan Xichen, who finally meets his eyes again.

“Of course I want to.” Lan Xichen opens his mouth to say something,closes it again, then repeats the process until he finally sighs, incredibly frustrated. “I think… we should talk. About… what just happened.”

“Is it… uhm… ago-… some kind of phobia? Or social anxiety, something like that?” Jiang Cheng squeezes his hand, hoping it’ll assure Lan Xichen it’s fine to tell him these things. He’s worried his face and voice aren’t reassuring enough.

“Ah… well, the latter, I suppose. I’ve been doing much better recently. I thought… if I just wanted it enough, it would be fine.” Lan Xichen lowers his gaze again and adds quietly, a little embarrassed: “My therapist warned me this morning, about putting too much pressure on myself. But I really just wanted… a normal date with you. Without all of… all of this.” He holds out his free hand, which is still shaking a little, then balls it into a fist.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what to say to that. He keeps holding Lan Xichen’s hand, even though it doesn’t feel like enough. He should say something. Or… or hug him. Or would that be too much?

“I’d hoped this kind of talk could wait… but I suppose there is no upside to waiting.” Lan Xichen sighs again, defeated, then turns his head so he can look at Jiang Cheng. “My last - only - relationship ended badly. Painfully. He was… He only showed me a carefully constructed version of himself and… I’ll spare us both the agony of going into details, but after it ended, I… well, I didn’t really leave my apartment anymore.” He studies Jiang Cheng’s face for a second and Jiang Cheng is terrified. What if he’s reacting wrong? What if he sees something hurtful? But Lan Xichen laughs. Weakly, but he laughs. “And I bought a lot of plants.”

“Well, they’re very pretty plants.” That’s what he says? After Lan Xichen has bared his heart, this is what Jiang Cheng has to say? He’s such a fucking idiot!

“Thank you.” Lan Xichen’s smile is genuine. He really is… too good. Then his face turns serious again, he levels Jiang Cheng with an intense look. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever be… interested in... I‘m not sure that’s the right word. Maybe it would be more appropriate to say: I wasn’t sure I’d be willing to risk getting hurt? I didn’t trust my ability to read people correctly. Which is why it took me by surprise, to have such feelings for you. I think a part of me thought I would not be able to…“

Fuck. He wants to hug him. Do anything that would chase away the sadness in his eyes. Beat up his ex-boyfriend, definitely. He needs to say something, though. Lan Xichen seems to be anxiously waiting for his reaction and…

Only one thought crystallizes itself in his brain and before he knows it, or can think better of it, it has left his mouth. “You shouldn’t do this with me.”

Lan Xichen looks hurt. But he catches himself instantly, and gives Jiang Cheng a weak smile. “Oh. Of course, it’s too much, it’s too… I’m sorry.”

Fuck! He’s such a fucking idiot! Lan Xichen lets go of Jiang Cheng’s hand, but before he can take it back, Jiang Cheng grasps it again, with both of his hands this time. “No! Fuck, that’s not what I meant! It’s not too much! You’re not… it’s that I’m not enough.”

Lan Xichen opens his mouth to say something and Jiang Cheng keeps talking, desperate to explain, to make Lan Xichen understand that Jiang Cheng is the fucked up one. The one who will inevitably fuck this up, if they were to keep doing this. “I always say the wrong thing, as you can clearly see. I say things I don’t actually mean, things that hurt other people. And I’m so bad at dating, I never even made it into a relationship. I… I had a breakdown on your massage table, because I realised I have no meaningful human interactions anymore other than with people who have to, because they’re related to me, and even then… You should do this with someone who is kind and who is not…” Not me.

“But I like you.”

The words are sweet and simple. But they have the same effect on Jiang Cheng as Lan Xichen’s gentle massage: He wants to cry. ”But.. It’s… it’s only a matter of time before I fuck it up! Before I say something to hurt you.”

“You’ve only been kind to me.”

"I… What?" Jiang Cheng is not kind. He’s not nice to people. Only in secret, only under four layers of anger and annoyance. Why would Lan Xichen… Jiang Cheng is not kind.

Lan Xichen simply laughs instead of trying to explain why he would say such things. “So, I would like to keep ‘doing’ this. With you.”

Jiang Cheng wants to protest again, feels like he should, but Lan Xichen quickly keeps talking before he can do so. "However, I don't think I'm good with the uncertainty and… Hm… casualness that comes with dating. Which is probably why it got to me so much today. Not so much the environment, it was a lovely cafe. But I put pressure on myself to not show certain parts. To keep them hidden until... some arbitrary later part of the relationship, I suppose. Dating, to me, involves projecting a very specific version of yourself that doesn’t feel truthful or like it won’t withstand further scrutiny. It’s very… exhausting.”

“Honestly… I fucking hate dating.” Jiang Cheng mentally kicks himself. What a fucking excellent thing to say while on a fucking date. But Lan Xichen only looks amused.

“That’s a relief.” “Is it?”

“As I said - I like you. I like spending time with you. I like sharing dinner with you.”

“I also like that.”

“Holding hands is also nice.”

Jiang Cheng looks down at their hands. He feels flushed and a little shaky - he’s really not used to being so vulnerable, but it’s been like this with Lan Xichen from the beginning, hasn’t it? He didn’t even get a chance to pretend otherwise after all those tears he shed. There’s no point in taking it all back now. Not when Lan Xichen is being so open in return. So he intertwines their fingers, then lifts his eyes again. “I like it, too.”

Lan Xichen’s smile is small, unassuming, but it lights up his eyes and warms Jiang Cheng’s heart. Jiang Cheng… would like to be able to make sure this man can keep smiling like this.

“So… can we just continue doing that?”

“Holding hands?”

“That, too. I meant… having dinner, spending time together… And…” A hint of nervousness flashes across Lan Xichen’s face again. It sparks nervousness in JC, too. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself and rushing into anything is the last thing I want to do… but I don’t do well with uncertainty. So… I’m sorry, this is probably too much, too soon, but… I want to do this slowly, but I don’t want to do it casually.”

“Oh. Okay.” Lan Xichen still looks worried, so Jiang Cheng rushes to clarify: “I’m okay with that. I’d also like that. To do this. Slowly. But… whatever the opposite of casual is.”

Jiang Cheng cringes slightly, but Lan Xichen laughs, relief softening his features. Then Lan Xichen lets out a deep breath, relaxes his shoulders and smiles brightly. “I feel much better now.” He pulls Jiang Cheng’s hand over, so it’s resting in his lap.

Lan Xichen turns his head slightly and their eyes meet. Jiang Cheng suddenly has trouble breathing. It’s not just because Lan Xichen is incredibly attractive. It’s not just because of Lan Xichen’s beautiful smile or because he’s holding his hand and Jiang Cheng’s hand is touching his thigh. It’s because of those things but… Lan Xichen looks at him. He sees him and still wants to… It’s overwhelming. A part of Jiang Cheng wants to get up and run away, which is clearly not an option, so he does the next best thing he can think of to disrupt the terrifying intimacy of the moment.

“Your muffin.” Jiang Cheng gets the muffin from Lan Xichen’s bag and offers it to him. Lan Xichen tilts his head, slightly confused, but takes it with an appreciative hum.

They sit like this for a while, even after Lan Xichen finished eating his muffin, just enjoying their little dry space while the rain still comes pouring down around them. Jiang Cheng has calmed down, too. Now, he’s just… content to be here. After a while, he begins feeling chilly - he really needs to get out his winter coat soon - but he doesn’t want to disturb the peacefulness. His hand is warm and safe with Lan Xichen, that’s enough.

But he can’t suppress a shiver, when a cold breeze hits his neck. Lan Xichen turns his head and, before Jiang Cheng can laugh it off or something, he lets go of Jiang Cheng’s hand, unwraps his scarf and, ignoring Jiang Cheng’s protesting noises, gently wraps it around his neck.

He wants to protest more, return the scarf, but Lan Xichen’s warm gaze lingers on his face and his hands linger on the scarf, knuckles resting on Jiang Cheng’s chest. He can’t think of anything to say. Lan Xichen doesn’t say anything either, but he strokes his cheek, the other hand still holding on to the scarf.

Jiang Cheng would like to… He’d really like to…

Lan Xichen runs his thumb over Jiang Cheng’s lower lip. Jiang Cheng opens his lips, leans a little closer, as if under a spell. He wants to…

With a soft gasp Lan Xichen widens his eyes, then pulls back his hand. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“No, please…” Jiang Cheng - boldly, foolishly - wraps his fingers around Lan Xichen’s hand, draws him back towards him. He wants…

Lan Xichen follows his pull until their linked hands are trapped between their chests. He looks down at him, looks at his lips. He smiles. Jiang Cheng closes his eyes, leans even closer, yearns to be enveloped by this warmth.

Lan Xichen kisses him carefully and gently. His lips are as soft as his smile, and he lets go of the scarf to tenderly cradle the back of Jiang Cheng’s head.

Somehow, it’s the easiest thing in the world to just… Let go. To let himself be kissed. To return the kiss, return the gentleness.

When they part, Lan Xichen laughs softly, cheeks flushed. But before Jiang Cheng gets distracted by his beauty, Lan Xichen hugs him. Wraps his arms around him and holds him close. Hides his head in the crook of Jiang Cheng’s neck.

“Are you okay?” Jiang Cheng hesitantly strokes Lan Xichen’s back, worried that maybe the kiss was too much for him, or it made him sad or-

“Mhm. I’m just… grateful.” Lan Xichen lifts his head to press a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s cheek, tightens his arms around him, before letting go and sitting upright again.

Jiang Cheng slowly lowers his arms, a little stunned by those words. “Why? There’s no need... “

“Because kissing you was easy.” Lan Xichen’s mouth twists, as though he’s regretting his words. “I’m sorry, that probably sounds - “

“No, I understand exactly what you mean.” Jiang Cheng understands it too well and it pains him that Lan Xichen feels this way. But he’s also happy, because maybe he can now understand a little why Lan Xichen likes him, why he feels comfortable around him. “I understand it well. I’m also grateful.”

“Ah… I’m glad.” Lan Xichen takes his hand again and Jiang Cheng immediately intertwines their fingers. Lan Xichen’s warm gaze rests gently on his face and playful smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Can I kiss you again?”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t bother with words, he simply pulls him closer until their lips meet again.

This kiss, as well as the ones that follow, are just as easy.

#The Untamed #mdzs #Xicheng #cql #Jiang Cheng #Lan Xichen #jiang cheng/lan xichen #modern au #To Meet You verse #betty drabbles

[tenebriiis-archived]

He enters with an audacious chuckle; brashness echoing in the room alongside each pompous footfall. Cane in hand, a dark brow quirks within his bold smirk. He would shake his head then, with sarcastic disappointment; before chancing a languid approach, but confident nonetheless.

" Ah, Miss Emilia; a liar down to your core. " The tap of his cane orchestrates each daring step closer, until they stand close enough to where a waft of her perfume can crease his nostril. " Dear, surely a woman of your stature would have... high demands when it comes to intimacy, but— " He halts, and long nails rest under her chin as he aims to tilt her - so she could look up, into his eyes. " Tell me that, after a thousand years of sleeping beside mortals, you would not like to add some taste ~ " Almost as if on instinct, their faces gravitate closer; and his eyes fall on her painted lips - eyelids heavy with desire.

" Especially when you own the keys to so many... secret passages. " Tongue quickly runs over his own bottom lip, before the very edge of pearly teeth would grip it. Standing this close, it would be easy for Emilia to perceive the way Jericho's breath hitched with excitement. His hand slowly caressed its way down the curve of her slender neck, and rested over her collarbone; pressed firmly, as if teasing a choke. After pausing to breathe in her perfume ( an unwise choice, as it was so intoxicating ) his palm would fall to her waist, and thereupon abruptly seize her wrist to spin her around - back meeting his chest.

" Would it not excite you, love? If you were pressed between me and the wall; buried in my arms all while the guards are patrolling outside? We would... " After a firm squeeze around her waist, to press them close, he aimed to gently cup her mouth - in a shameless display of what would transpire. " Have to be quiet, of course. " Should she offer him purchase, he would nuzzle into the crook of her neck, and bestow a few kisses around her jaw. " And quick too... Lest we get caught~ " A teasing giggle spilled between his teeth as he nipped her cheek, hand playfully groping at her hips. It was, of course, a jest between the two of them; seeing as the last thing they ought to fear were repercussions.

{ ⟡ } — The sound of his laugh, among the fearless confidence, silences her before any statement would fall upon her ears.

It’s the whole act that feels both equally natural, artful & pleasing as if fascinating herself in the iridescence of a raven’s plumage. On another time & in any other man; the whole show would have felt cheap, to not say even annoying & disrespectful, but not on him. When it’s about him, the details provoke an unavoidable shiver to escalate her spine & raise goosebumps among the porcelain of her skin. It permits her to grow silent to the world, & simply listen & witness how he is a whole melody on its very own.

It beacons –demands–her full attention, taking her away from the small spell-book she had been checking for a couple of hours by now. Emilia just can’t ignore his demeanor, as if a charm would be summoned, no matter the Enchantress’s gaze would make it seem as if it was by choice. But her heart, –oh her heart certainly skipped a beat the instant he halted in front of her. A predator & a guide; provoking a feline & prideful smirk to decorate her features, especially with the trepidation & light pressure of his hand on her throat -taking all in her not to invite him more of what her eyes may express on anticipation.

His gaze is flatter on its own, how not to when she’s the object of desires placing a flame on such collected & frivolous man? How not to when he makes her feel genuinely wanted? – & so a velvety laugh escapes her lips, which would turn into a brief & sudden gasp of surprise when spun & brought to his chest.

She trembles in his grasps, even if for merely a second, it’s a sincere reaction she doesn’t take the time to cover up for.

Closer; venomously & lusciously closer, there was a hazardous pleasure beyond the prospective of his plan: as she relished in the sensation of feeling so frail & malleable in his embrace. Her beauteous & petite silhouette being towered by him was an effervescent potion to her senses, & every single word falling upon her ears was entangling her in the promise of passionate possibilities as if they were merely secret & youthful lovebirds. Perhaps it was what inspired a soft little whine to playfully drown against the hand suggesting to steal her voice.

A saccharine & sultry chuckle would drown on her throat, closing her eyes in a seemly act of trust as tilting her head ever-so-slightly with a hum of blissful satisfaction & yearning at the little kisses. As if asking for more while one of her hands raised & nestled among the silver cascade of his hair, caressing the locks.

“Oh would I ever lie to you~?... Tell me so; would it not be for you, Mon Douce Souffrance? Exciting & intense to maybe call for attention, being found with 'such a mere' Lady as me where anybody could walk by, what would all say & whisper as we give them a show~?” Her voice teases, carrying adoration & need she doesn't bother in hiding in her own playfulness. Leaning slightly a little bit more into him on an invitation of sorts, her own chest raises & falls in a deep breath, yet assuring to be parsimonious as if to make even the minor detail into part of a temptation act.

“It would be a night to remember~”

Following him into the game; for all those evenings she sometimes may wonder if their lives would have been filled with all those endeavors had she ever stopped her pace sooner. A Romantic piece of her heart -even when her mind was corded & bait into sensual ideas now-, sometimes would wander more than necessary & make up for all those taken dreams, but she would never dare to ask nor let herself be fully engulfed by the past – not admits his warmth breathing, so close it could melt the coldness of her skin & eventually make her bit into her lower lip. Her features acquiring an unmistakable hint of crimson as her free digits would trace over the hand on her hip

“Careful, my General” Her voice purred, entwining their fingers, guiding them if he may along with the skirt of her flowing & vaporous gown, “Silks & organdie are very fragile & fluent, they could be tricky if not–…” Slowly, leaving his hand over the cut hidden among the many layers of sheer fabric with a low voice, full of bold daring.

“… –handled properly~”

@vixtionary ♡

#Emilia be like ' if we don't give them a show why are they there mmmm? :3c #cause she's that level of capricious #suggestive #Sinday #vixtionary

[winterironspiderling]

Sorry if you’ve answered something like this before but, do you have any tips of writing slow burn, and just writing in general? Lol thank you and love your work!

No worries! I’m always down to talk about writing. Thank you for your kind words. :)

To write a slow burn, you will want to start with the main pairing as strangers, acquaintances, or even enemies. You could also start them as friends, but if you begin with the two having a close relationship already, it would be hard to draw that out because friends to lovers basically only adds kissing and physical intimacy, but if you start from the very beginning/first meeting you have more time to develop the relationship, which will take more words, and make the burn slower.

No matter what level of relationship you start the pairing at, there has to be a reason why they can’t be together yet because if you start with no obstacle, it will be hard to justify why they aren’t together. Obstacles could be the characters are in other relationships, one or both might have just gotten out of a bad/abusive relationship, they’re in a bad place mentally/physically, and distance or other characters are keeping them apart. This also gives you something to overcome not just in the relationship, but for the individual characters and their journey, and it adds depth to the plot. And the richer the plot, the more you can draw it out and slow down the burn!

To make the slow burn enjoyable instead of annoying or frustrating, try not to make overcoming the relationship obstacles or individual challenges “too easy” for the characters. They should have near misses and setbacks, or it won’t feel satisfying or intriguing when they finally get together, or oppositely, if it’s too hard and drawn out, and there’s one shitty event after the other, it will feel like okay!!! enough already!!! So try to space out good and bad events and keep it balanced. :)

Know when to time skip and when to accept that you just need to write an entire scene. Time skipping can rush character development and make the ending feel unearned, but writing every detail of the characters’ lives can get boring to read. When you need some exposition or world building and not just fun plot or explicit scenes try to use the seemingly mundane interactions to your advantage to further the plot, introduce characters, build character(s), build relationships, foreshadow, or make fun references to canon.

For an example of all of the above points, in my story Disorder, Tony and Peter have their first meeting, and what’s holding them back from being together is Peter’s age and his poor mental health and self-image. He has a lot of good moments and bad moments, and doesn’t just lose weight and gain confidence over night. I take Tony and Peter throughout a working relationship, then a friendship, and then the buildup of an intimate relationship, and when I’m not outlining every personal training session between the two, I’m building their relationships and friendships with other people and giving both of them a chance to interact in other spaces besides the gym. So Peter will be at school with Ned and MJ showing his sense of humour, interacting with Flash, and maybe mentioning the upcoming Decathlon ten chapters later, so that when I bring it up later, it doesn’t come out of nowhere. Then I might skip a week to the next lesson with Tony because if you’re reading a Starker story, obviously you want most of the interactions to be Tony/Peter. :)

Adding in more people than the main pairing makes for a well-rounded story because other characters exist and help make the main pairing who they are. (For Peter, I like Ned, MJ, May, Flash, and Mr. Delmar, and for Tony, I like Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Jarvis, and Nebula. Bucky is just a necessity for every story, also. ;) ) Making the side characters funny or interesting, or inserting running jokes about them will make the parts with those people more enjoyable to read, even if the pairing isn’t featured.

Short chapter length or transitional chapters are necessary, but can be tedious because you don’t want to have an info dump, but you don’t want to go through the pain of writing an entire interaction and scene just for the sake of increasing word count, so accepting that not every chapter is going to be the Best Chapter is important. If you need to get information across about the backstory, or exposition, you can have it expressed through dialogue, or do a little bit of info dumping at a time and try to weave it into other things, so it’s not huge chunks of info that can be boring or confusing.

Add a little bit of your own personality to the writing too. I’m not really a poetic writer, and I prefer to write snappy dialogue and let character dynamics do the work, but some people can talk about the flowering trees and the winding roads of the countryside. I don’t know anything about that lol, so when I try to write it, I feel silly and then the scene suffers because I’m not saying anything I actually care about. So write the style that feels most natural to you and it won’t be boring because you’ll be able to feel your energy in the story, and writers are what bring a lot of the emotion to the fan fiction. Every reader likes something different, so write for your own tastes and the people who like your style will stick around.

There’s a time and place for surprises or complications, but the type that you put into the story should be consistent with the expectations you and the readers have—whether you’ve stated these by your tags or the plot summary. Example, a coffee shop AU doesn’t turn into a sex worker AU, or soft, domestic Tony doesn’t turn into a dark stalker. Those are valid occurrences, but they’re so different that it’s not a fun twist for readers…it’s legitimately not what they signed up for. A surprise in Disorder that works is when you find out Tony’s own personal struggles during his POV with Rhodey. It adds depth to his character and another layer to his dynamic with Peter, but it isn’t shocking or contrary to what I’ve already written.

For most of Disorder, Tony and Peter each don’t think the other would be interested, or if they were, “not right now” or “not because of the age difference” etc... and I kept having them almost connect/admit it, but then I’d hold back. Knowing when and how I wanted them to get together from the very beginning helped with the slow burn as well because I had to think of how to get them from point A to B. I knew I wanted Peter to be at good place mentally, but not perfect, and I wanted May to be more accepting of the relationship, so it became a game of filling in the blanks instead of just starting a story with no end in sight, and then it feels difficult to give it direction.

Creating outlines and templates for a story helps me. Like a table that outlines which characters are featured in a chapter, and any major plot points, and just general info.This way when you go to write future chapters or edit, you don’t have to reread everything, and when it’s all laid out in front of you, it can be easier to be like, “Oh, this just happened in Chapter 1, so I don’t want another crazy event to happen in Chapter 5 because I want the energy of the story to be evenly spaced.”

Edit not just for grammar but for subtle mistakes like repeating a lot of the same phrases and words. I tend to overuse “just” and start a lot of sentences with, “well”, so I have to be careful of that. Also for continuity like if Peter is sitting down in one paragraph, and then you say he sat down in the next paragraph even though he’s already sitting...

Decide how you want your story to be regarding realism, whether it’s in the context of an AU or a canon-compliant story. Maybe you don’t care about being realistic to our universe, and maybe you want to write something completely off the wall. There should be some sort of structure and consistency with the characters so that the reader feels stable and like they can trust where you’re going. Even if you want to write a master/slave AU where Tony keeps Peter on a leash, or something like a body swap, there’s still things that you can do to keep it realistic in the context of that story. Like if Tony was portrayed as a very loyal and possessive master, he’s not going to be sharing Peter with someone later in the story, unless you’ve decided that him getting over that is necessary to the plot, and sufficient character building shows him slowly becoming more open. Or in a body swap, if Peter and Tony switch, they’re not going to immediately go and put each other at risk or use their bodies to betray one another.

So I don’t know what you’re writing, but no matter what, try creating mystery by leaving things unsaid/undiscovered, or raising questions within the plot for readers to find out later. You don’t have to give up everything right away! (I know it’s hard not to spill the beans, but it lets people figure things out on their own or wonder if you’ll mention it again.) (Make sure you remember if you’re doing this so you don’t accidentally create a plot hole.) An example of this in Disorder is raising the topic of will Peter go to college, or not. Eventually he decides. Another is why Tony doesn’t like to give cards in his gifts, and then eventually he gives one to Peter, and it makes it really special. <3

I hope this helps!

#ask #writing advice #disorder

[new-sandrafilter]

True Romance: Saoirse Ronan and Timothée Chalamet on reuniting for Little Women

They may be posing in an airy lower Manhattan studio, but Timothée Chalamet and Saoirse Ronan have a way of making you feel right at home. “I made a little playlist this morning,” Chalamet announces to the room. He syncs up his cell phone to the sound system, his boyish grin widening as Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” starts blaring. He returns to the camera, which snaps him and Ronan at a furious pace.

It’s their first joint cover shoot. He’s wearing a shimmery striped shirt with high-waist trousers; she’s rocking a shirtdress, fishnet stockings, and clear stilettos. He keeps cracking her up; she musses his hair with doting affection. During a break that follows, he wanders, gripping a paper bag stuffed with assorted bagels — from Tompkins Square Bagels, which Chalamet, a lifelong New Yorker, insists are the best in the city — and offering one to anyone in his path. He sings and dances — very Elio-in-the-town-square-like — to Bob Dylan’s “Tombstone Blues.” He creeps behind a distracted Ronan before spooking her with a yelp. “I didn’t even know you were there!” she exclaims, reddening from the fright but with a smile so lovingly at ease, you sense she’s used to the prank.

They’ve known each other, after all, for some time. About three years ago, Ronan, now 25, and Chalamet, 23, met filming Lady Bird, Greta Gerwig’s solo directorial debut, in which Ronan’s irrepressible heroine (briefly) romances Chalamet’s douchey amateur musician. They reunited with Gerwig last year, on the heels of Lady Bird’s Oscar-nominated success, for a bigger undertaking: a remake of the oft-remade Little Women (Dec. 25). Ronan and Chalamet slipped into the roles of tomboyish Jo March and buoyant Theodore “Laurie” Laurence, best friends who ultimately break each other’s hearts. Their courtship ranks among American culture’s oldest tales of unrequited love — made indelible by Katharine Hepburn and Douglass Montgomery, Winona Ryder and Christian Bale, and so many others — yet finds, in the hands of two of the most compelling actors of their generation, galvanizing new life.

That goes, in fact, for the whole of Gerwig’s Little Women. Her version certainly contains the snow-globe coziness of treasured adaptations past, but also carries a fizzy emotional authenticity and attention to detail. The film is remarkably lived-in, too: This take on Louisa May Alcott’s 1868 novel, which follows Jo and her three sisters pre– and post–American Civil War, feels plucked straight from the text in the best way, with siblings fighting like siblings, love and loss and hope and pain vividly experienced on screen.

Ronan and Chalamet’s charming big sister–little brother dynamic is not unlike the one that Jo and Laurie share in Little Women. Watch the actors play off one another, and the film’s tender realism clarifies itself: Their on-camera intimacy is just as palpable behind the scenes. Indeed, after shooting Lady Bird for a few weeks, the pair hung out regularly over the next year, making the awards-circuit rounds and scoring lead-acting Oscar nominations — Ronan for Lady Bird, Chalamet for Call Me by Your Name — before swiftly signing on to Little Women. In advance of filming in Concord, Mass. (the actual setting of the book), Gerwig and producer Amy Pascal gathered the large production’s cast and crew for rehearsals at a house just outside the town. For Ronan and Chalamet, the contrast between this and their early Lady Bird days was immense. “I felt very prideful… about how big it had gotten, how many people were there,” Chalamet recounts. “On Lady Bird it was, like, 25 people hanging out in a house!”

They fell back into each other’s rhythms instantly. “He keeps me on my toes — I’m never quite sure what he’s going to do next,” Ronan says. “That only progressed more and grew more. It helped that we do have a very natural rapport with each other…. These two characters physically need to be very comfortable with one another. They’re literally intertwined for half the film.” Chalamet adds: “In the least clichéd way possible, it really doesn’t feel like [I’m] acting sometimes [with her].”

Chalamet credits Gerwig, too, for establishing a playful, comfortable atmosphere. He thinks back to his first day of rehearsal: He reunited with Ronan. He introduced himself to Emma Watson (who plays the eldest March sister, Meg). He was guided into a third-floor conference room of a “random building” where, “all of a sudden, there was a full dance class going on.” He recalls fondly: “Everyone breaks down and becomes a little kid. This job is so trippy in that regard — you want to be serious, you want to be professional, and then it’s almost best when you’re able to be 12 years old. When it’s someone you’re actually friends with, it makes it easier.”

Ronan smirks, gearing up for a jab: “We’re not friends!” Delighted, Chalamet keeps the bit going. “We’re not friends,” he says, solemnly. For once, they’re not very convincing.

Greta Gerwig doesn’t remember a time before she knew Jo March. “[Little Women] was very much part of who I always was,” the writer-director, 36, says. “It was something my mother read to me when I was growing up. It’s been with me for a very long time.”

She joined Sony Pictures’ new Little Women adaptation when she was hired to write the script in 2016. Once Lady Bird bowed the next year, she emerged as a candidate to direct the film. “Greta had a very specific, energized, kind of punk-rock, Shakespearean take on this story,” Pascal says. “She came in and had a meeting with all of us and said, ‘I know this has been done before, but nobody can do it but me.’” She got the gig.

In her approach, Gerwig drew on her lifelong relationship with Little Women; beyond childhood, she discovered new, complex layers to the novel, and in turn to Alcott’s legacy. “As a girl, my heroine was Jo March, and as a grown lady, my heroine is Louisa May Alcott,” she says. It’s perhaps why Gerwig’s Little Women feels like the most adult — and modern — version of the story that’s reached the screen to date. The movie begins with the March sisters in adulthood — typically where the narrative’s second half begins — and unfolds like a memory play, shifting back and forth between that present-day frame and extended flashbacks to the childhood scenes etched in the American literary canon.

In that, Gerwig finds fascinating, fresh areas of exploration regarding women’s lives: the choices society forces them to make, the beauty and struggles of artistic pursuit, the consequences of rebellion. Jo’s journey as a writer anchors Gerwig’s direction; tempestuous Amy (Florence Pugh) gets more of a spotlight as she matures as a painter (and Laurie’s eventual wife); and Meg is realized with newfound nuance: “We felt it was important to show Meg juggling all her roles — a mother, a wife, a sister — whilst also celebrating her dreams, despite them being different to those of her sisters,” says Watson. But Gerwig doesn’t see herself as reinventing the wheel. “A lot of the lines in the film are taken right from the book,” she explains. “When Amy says, ‘I want to be great or nothing’ — she says that in the book! I don’t think we remember that, but she does say it.” Gerwig also loves one line spoken by the sisters’ mother, Marmee (Laura Dern), also revived in this version: “I’m angry almost every single day.”

Gerwig compiled a “bible” filled with cultural references: to Whistler tableaux of family life, to David Bowie–Jean Seberg hairdos that inspire the look of Jo’s mid-film cut, to Alcott family letters. “I wanted it to be footnote-able,” Gerwig says. “I wanted to point to it and say, ‘This is where this is from.’” She considers Alcott’s text sacred: “I wanted to treat the text as something that could be made fresh by great acting.”

Beyond those charged but less quoted Little Women lines are its famous ones — throw-pillow staples like Jo’s “Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,” that no adaptation is complete without. The actors rehearsed these “almost like a song,” pushing to move through them with a rapid musicality. “We [read] the book out loud,” says Dern. Gerwig expected the script’s words to be memorized precisely. “I knew I wanted them to get this cadence that felt sparkly and slightly irreverent,” she says. “I wanted to make them move at the speed of light.”

She poured the same love into iconic scenes, like Jo and Laurie’s ebullient dance that follows their first meeting. Here it goes on longer — and more vibrantly — than in any previous iteration. (Ronan says they filmed it at 3 a.m., to boot, adding, “We must have done it, like, 30 times.”) Then there’s the devastating moment when Laurie asks Jo to marry him and she rejects his proposal. Gerwig tasked the two actors to unleash here. “Emotions just bubble over,” Ronan says. “[Greta] just let us go with it, wherever it went, from take to take. What I loved about that scene is that every take would be different emotionally. It didn’t have the same trajectory.

“The two of us, it’s a relationship I have with no other director,” Ronan continues. “She makes me feel like I can try anything.”

As Ronan and Chalamet emerge from their photo-studio dressing area in impossibly chic new ensembles — she donning a form-fitting knit sweater, he a silky, ruffled top — their creative energy fills the space. They try out different poses, debating concepts and ideas with each other on the fly; at one point he wraps his arms around her waist, and she quips to no one in particular, “We’re expecting our first.” Camera snap.

They’re modeling a new brand of movie stardom — pursuing projects with a point of view, adamantly being themselves in the public eye, subverting gender norms. Their androgynous fashion performance here reflects their wardrobe shake-ups in Little Women: Gerwig and Oscar-winning costumer Jacqueline Durran (Anna Karenina) had the two actors swapping clothes throughout filming, to reinforce the masculine-feminine fluidity between Jo and Laurie. “They are two halves,” as Pascal puts it. “These are really bold characters that are really different than you’ve seen them before.”

And just as Gerwig expressed a need to direct Little Women, Ronan knew in her bones she needed to play Jo. She’d first encountered the story via the 1994 film when she was 11, and later read the book, feeling an immediate kinship with the young woman she’d come to portray. “When Louisa describes Jo, it felt like someone describing me physically: sort of gangly and stubborn and very straightforward, and went for what she wanted.” At an event for Lady Bird, she — in a very Jo kind of way — just “went at it” by approaching Gerwig. “I said, ‘So I want to be in Little Women, but only if I’m playing Jo.’” (Chalamet, for his part, was asked by Gerwig, “Hey, want to do another movie?” He responded: “Yes. Yes, please.”)

Over months of living in Concord with her castmates, Ronan discovered new depths within herself: “Jo’s ethos is ‘Everything everyone else is doing, I’m going to do the opposite.’ [I had] to try things that I’d never tried before. Be a bit messier with a performance.” Gerwig set up etiquette lessons for the cast; whatever the instructor said (“Don’t shake hands! Don’t gesticulate with your arms!”), Ronan made sure to ignore it. She speaks now of this as freeing, even transformative. “I felt like I had tapped into something I’d never gotten the opportunity to tap into before, or I just didn’t have the guts to tap into myself,” she says. “Finding that was just amazing.”

Shortly after wrapping Little Women, she filmed Wes Anderson’s next film, The French Dispatch — marking her third time costarring with Chalamet, who plays a central role. As for now? Ronan is taking a little break. “I’ll wait for the right thing to come along,” she says. “It’s lovely to be in a position at this moment where I can wait for the absolute right thing.” Same goes for Chalamet — he shot Netflix’s The King (out Oct. 11) right before Little Women and just completed production on Denis Villeneuve’s Dune adaptation. “It’s the first time in almost two years I’ve gotten a breath, so I’m savoring it.”

It’s been a long day. They’re back in comfy clothes; Ronan is taking a late lunch. It feels like both actors — as another whirlwind of acclaim and press and romance-shipping awaits — are at a kind of peace, exhausted but satisfyingly so. Little Women is the biggest movie either has done to date; more attention, as they inhabit such revered characters, is sure to follow. “I just haven’t thought about it that way,” Ronan admits. “Maybe because it’s just Greta — even though it’s on a much bigger scale, she wanted it to feel like Lady Bird.”

Ronan understands the timeless power of Little Women, of course: “It’s as important to tell Little Women right now as it would be at any point in our lifetime.” She points to this pop culture climate of “celebrating female friendships and sisterhood,” and continues, “It’s a story that’s full of love. That will always be relevant.”

She turns toward Chalamet, and you realize the love they brought to Alcott’s classic is what first blossomed between them on Lady Bird. “I love that in Lady Bird, you broke my heart,” she says to him softly. “In Little Women, I got to break your heart.” (Chalamet, ever the goofball, finds an obvious opening: “Yes, that’s true. Then I married your sister. Ha, ha, ha!”)

If this all sounds a little idyllic, well, neither actor — nor Gerwig, nor Pascal, nor the rest of the cast — can do much to convince you otherwise. Shifting back to Little Women’s timelessness, and reflecting on Ronan’s comments about it, Chalamet says, “I don’t know how to add to that.” Instead he turns back to his costar, his expression suddenly sincere, filled with gratitude. “But if I can add one little dose of information,” he says with a nervous laugh. “And not just because she’s sitting next to me.” He credits Ronan with bringing that “timeless energy.” He says “thank God” they were able to make the movie. “It’s so rare with Saoirse — I’m so f—ing grateful to get to work with her,” he says. “Whatever book I write for myself when I’m older, to look back on —” He stops himself. “Well, this is a bigger conversation.”

But Ronan, chuckling, doesn’t let him off the hook. “Will I have, like, a chapter?” And Chalamet laughs — another opening, another chance to act with his greatest scene partner, to see what journey of creation and discovery they’ll go on next. “A chapter of Saoirse,” he says.

At this rate, one chapter won’t suffice.

#timmy #timothee chalamet #saoirse ronan #little women

[hopeymchope]

Naegiri Week 2019, Day 4 - Plant

SURPRISE! I actually wrote a one-shot for Naegiri Week. IT’S A FESTIVUS MIRACLE!

Ah, at least if anyone cares.

There are ***SPOILERS for Kirigiri-Sou*** in this story. If you want to read that wild little “sound novel,” though, I strongly recommend you do so via @drmedicsgamesurgery‘s translation over here.

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

In a nearly empty coffee shop on a rainy afternoon, Makoto Naegi and Kyoko KIrigiri sat across from one another in silence. Makoto fiddled with his cell phone occasionally. Kyoko pretended to be interested in the shop’s decor or in the people passing by outside, watching umbrellas bob past her view idly.

With a sad, forced smile, Makoto broke the silence first. He dropped his phone to the table between them and asked, “This is awkward, isn’t it?”

Kyoko finally looked at him, lowering her cup of coffee to give him a small nod. “A bit,” she admitted.

Makoto’s eyes fell to the table, avoiding hers. “It’s like... it’s like we’ve been friends for so long that I don’t know what’s supposed to be different.”

She kept her gaze fixed on him even as his own eyes began wandering. “I understand how you feel,” she agreed. “Perhaps we’re expecting something to change where it doesn’t need to?”

He looked at her sideways. “How do you mean?”

“I’m suggesting that when two people become so close and know one another for so many years... “ Kyoko paused, attempting to find the right words. “...then perhaps a transition to ‘dating’ is only minimally different from the time they already spent together.”

“No,” Makoto responded quickly, turning his head back to look at her directly. ”No way. That’d mean that we were such good friends that we were essentially automatically dating, and I refuse to accept that that’s a thing.” He threw up one hand in a half-shrug. “Like, how many of the days we’ve together are retroactively dates now? What’s the threshold for ‘automatic dating’? How close do you have to be? Is my sister ‘dating’ Fukawa-san now?”

Kyoko smiled tightly. “They already share an apartment and a bed, so... ?”

At that, he had to chuckle. “Okay, okay — bad example!” Makoto said, waving his hands and laughing. “Most friendships aren’t that close, I know. I just mean-”

“I understand,” Kyoko assured him, interrupting. Her voice and her expression both were soft when she continued, “And I didn’t mean to imply that we had already started dating months or even years before now because we achieved some vague friendship-maturation-date. I think you misunderstood me.” Setting down her coffee, she said, “I just meant that once you’ve shared so much of yourself with someone, perhaps it’s understandably hard to find new layers to add.”

His mouth tightened as he considered this. “So then... the act of saying that ‘we’re dating’ is the new layer?”

She tilted her head ever so slightly, looked bemused. “Well... I’d argue that declaring that you’re in a romantic relationship with someone should bring a natural increase in emotional intimacy.” She paused, reaching out to place one gloved hand on top of his own. “And physical intimacy, of course,” she half-whispered.

Makoto grinned at her touch in spite of the fact that her skin wasn’t even in contact with his. The act of casually touching one another still felt so fresh, so new that he still blushed intensely. He rolled his hand over to hold hers and said, “Just the emotional and physical stuff, huh? So I, uh, guess this means you already know most everything else about me... ?”

She shook her head once. “Not that it would matter if I did, but no. There’s no chance of that.”

He was skeptical. “I’m pretty much an open book,” he noted.

“In a lot of ways,” she agreed. “Yet you continue to surprise me with stories of your life experiences and in how you react to what your unusual luck throws your way.” She rubbed one of his fingers between her forefinger and thumb gently. “I’m positive that I still have many stories you haven’t heard, either.”

“All right,” Makoto said with a mischievous smile. Hopping out of his seat, he pulled his hand free of hers and stood up. As he kicked his chair aside, he pointed at her dramatically and announced, “I challenge you to tell me something I don’t know about you!” 

Kyoko covered her mouth to stifle her quiet laugh. “I suppose that’s one way to guarantee that something new and different happens today.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Can it be anything at all, or are you looking for a certain type of thing?”

Dropping his hand to his side, he shrugged awkwardly. “I-I didn’t really have any specific ideas. Something personal? Maybe about your family? Or just something from one of your cases?”

“Hm,” was all Kyoko said at first. Her eyes once again traveled the room as she sought inspiration. Once she landed on a potted fern near the door, she said, “I can think of something that fits all of those criteria.”

(THE REST IS UNDER THE CUT)

“Great!” Makoto said, grinning. “So that means it’s something about your family that is also related to a case... ?”

Closing her eyes, Kyoko’s smile faded as she said, “Just remember that you asked for this.”

That was enough to make Makoto’s grin melt in an instant. “Uhhh, wha-wha-what do you mean?!”

“Only that this may be stranger than you’d imagine,” Kyoko replied. She folded her hands together. Utterly straight-faced, she opened her eyes and told him, “Once — for a very short time — I had a sister.”

At this, Makoto looked relieved. “You’re talking about Samidare-san,” he said, relaxing.

“I am afraid not,” Kyoko said. “I’m talking about a genetic sister.” She smirked slightly. “I had a twin who was... well, she was a plant.”

Makoto cocked his head at that, his eyes narrowing. “Now, when you say ‘plant’, you meeeaaan... what, exactly?”

She took care to speak clearly: “I mean that I had a twin sister who was, in truth, an organism that used chlorophyll and photosynthesis to generate nutrients within her body.”

A laugh emerged from Makoto reflexively, but both it and his smile faded in the face of Kyoko’s steely expression. A long moment of silence passed while he stood there and regarded her, his expression quizzical. Then, finally, he reached out and pulled the wooden chair closer to him, watching her the entire time.

“Okay... “ he said slowly. “Help me out here: Is this like a metaphor?” He lowered himself back to his seat. “Do you mean that your grandfather had a plant that he loved as much as he loved you? Or, y’know, maybe you had hedge at your family home that someone trimmed into the shape of you, so it was your ‘twin’, or—”

“Sadly, ‘no’ to both.” Kyoko said firmly. “Kyouka was her name, and she was a walking, talking, independent person who looked exactly like me as I did at the time.” Her eyes grew distant as she thought back. “To look at her, you’d never have known that she was made of plant matter. She grew as rapidly as someone might grow a weed.” 

Though he was growing pale, Makoto still tried to laugh it off. “Yo-you’re dead set on tricking me, aren’t you?” he ventured. “This is... it’s a practical joke.”

With a slow shake of her head, she said, “Bizarre though it may sound, I promise that I am telling you the truth.”

There was a soft thonk-slap as Naegi’s arms and hands fell limply onto the table between them. He expression was one of confusion and shock, and his complexion looked sickly. “I... “ he said softly. Swallowing hard, he finished, “I wasn’t prepared for this.”

“If you think it sounds outlandish now, you can imagine my reaction to seeing it,” Kyouko said. “Someone had sampled my DNA and used it in a biological experiment to create a plant-based clone of me. Furthermore, she was one of a series of intended clones of Hope’s Peak students.”

Still stunned, Makoto asked, “Why didn’t you ever tell me about this before now?”

“A Kirigiri never makes an accusation without proof,” she said. “Even though I know what I saw and experienced, I have no evidence to support what I’m telling you. I only knew ‘Kyouka’ for a day before she was reduced to a shriveled-up network of roots and leaves. And without evidence, this is all nothing more than an outlandish story.”

Still stunned, Makoto shook his head and said, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Kyoko responded. “I made the decision to keep this to myself just as I eventually made the decision to stop searching for lingering proof.”

“N-no, I mean that I’m sorry you had to carry this alone,” Makoto said. He looked at her with sympathy as he reached out and put his hand over hers, returning her earlier gesture. “Seeing someone that looks like you — someone made from you, even, who you only know for such a short time before you seem them quickly wither and die right in front of you... it couldn’t have been easy.”

She smiled warmly at him. “Then you believe me?”

“Of course,” Makoto said without hesitation.

“I knew that you would,” she said back. “And I’m grateful.”

Makoto smiled back at her, and the two sat there for a while, staring into each other’s eyes. Kyoko rolled her hand over and took his in hers, giving him a slight squeeze as she did so. Makoto slowly exhaled a happy sigh.

.......................

“WAIT!” Makoto said, snapping back to reality.

“What?”

““I just realized you glossed right past a super-important detail,” he observed intensely.

Kyoko leaned forward. “Which is-?”

“Was she, like, evil?”

#naegiri2019 #danganronpa fanfic #naegiri one-shots #danganronpa #my writing #fanfic #danganronpa fan fiction #danganronpa fanfiction #naegiri week 2019 #naegiri week #naegiri #makoto naegi #kyoko kirigiri #kyouko kirigiri #kirigiri-sou

[tomhiddleslove]

Tom Hiddleston, Zawe Ashton and Charlie Cox play the three points of Harold Pinter's adulterous triangle in Jamie Lloyd's superb production from London.

Reverse chronology has become a familiar narrative device in film, but when Harold Pinter employed it in 1978 in his blisteringly personal drama about an extramarital affair, Betrayal, it was still uncommon enough to become highly influential. It makes the drama start from a place of awkwardness steeped in grief, two years after the illicit liaison has finished, and end at the beginning, with a rapturous sense of secret possibility, marbled by the deep vein of melancholy present from the first scene. That emotional complexity smolders like hot coals in Jamie Lloyd's expertly calibrated production, transferring to Broadway direct from its hit London engagement.

The headline news is the commanding Broadway debut of Tom Hiddleston, taking a breather from the Marvel Cinematic Universe to revisit the stage roots to which he has returned periodically throughout his career. The coolly charismatic star is matched at every step by Zawe Ashton and Charlie Cox, the latter trailing his own Marvel association from Netflix's Daredevil.

Lloyd staged Betrayal, one of the tightest and most straightforward (albeit back to front) of Pinter's full-length plays, as the unorthodox culmination of an acclaimed London season of the dramatist's one-acts. The director's feeling for Pinter's tricky rhythms, his freighted silences, glacial distances and brittle intimacies is unerring, evident not just in the dialogue-driven moments but also in the physical staging, the austerely elegant design choices, the stunningly descriptive use of shadow in Jon Clark's lighting and the precise attention to movement.

The action unfolds in bars, restaurants, family homes, a regular assignation address and a Venetian hotel. But designer Soutra Gilmour's set is a simple, stark rear wall in slate gray that makes intimate advances on the actors at times, with a sparingly used turntable that suggests the unkind passing of time, even as the scenes play out in backwards order. Among the few props are two chairs, the glasses or bottles required for a variety of alcohol, cigarettes, of course, and only late in the play, a table with an Italian linen tablecloth that becomes the saddest sight you'll ever see.

The three principal actors are onstage for the duration, with the third player at first remaining detached in the background through each of the mostly two-character scenes. But almost imperceptibly, the tiniest flicker of reaction begins playing across the face or in the body language of the silent additional presence as key information is divulged, twisting the knife as to who knew what and for how long. It's a masterstroke of direction, adding lacerating stabs of hurt to a drama in which none of the protagonists is overly sympathetic.

The parties involved, all in their mid-30s, are Robert (Hiddleston), a London publisher; his wife Emma (Ashton), who runs a gallery; and Jerry (Cox), a literary agent who also has an unseen wife at home. Each couple has two children. Complicating the seven-year affair of Emma and Jerry is the friendship of much longer duration between Robert and Jerry, who was best man at their wedding. The two first met when both were bright young things editing poetry magazines, Robert at Oxford and Jerry at Cambridge.

Pinter, and in turn here, Lloyd, get much mileage out of the urbane sophistication of these very English characters, consistently testing the strain beneath their polite small talk and practiced civility, with an edge of formality even between spouses and lovers.

It's thrilling when the simmering rage beneath Robert's smooth, at times bordering on smug, surface bubbles up, for instance in a discussion of the male ritual of a squash game followed by a pint at the pub and then lunch, his exclusion of Emma delivered like a casual body blow. Or during one such lunch with Jerry, when he rants about the tediousness of launching a novel while ferociously attacking a plate of prosciutto and melon. That his anger is never directed openly at its target doesn't make it sting any less.

But it's in those moments when the armor of Robert's composure is pierced by vulnerability that Hiddleston's performance truly dazzles. A scene in Venice, during which Robert dances around his suspicions to the point where Emma reads the knowledge of her transgression in his eyes and chooses that moment to confess, is made all the more wrenching by its restraint. As they sit side by side and she provides key details — location of their trysts, how long it's been going on, reassurance about the paternity of their youngest child — Robert stares straight ahead, impassively absorbing the full impact as his eyes pool with tears. The generally guarded Emma's sudden emotional release is quite different, but no less affecting in Ashton's self-possessed but finely layered performance.

Lloyd's brisk scene transitions add texture to the drama throughout, notably when that painful exchange segues to Emma and Jerry meeting at the suburban flat they've been renting, the shadow of their embrace seeming to infect the still-seated Robert like a virus.

The uncustomary choice to show one of Robert and Emma's children (an adorable girl played at the performance reviewed by Emma Lyles) also pays off. Repeated reference is made to Jerry tossing her up in the air and catching her one afternoon in their kitchen — or was it his? It rips your heart out to watch the child giggle with joy when that happens before curling up in her father's arms to sleep as Emma then meets with Robert early in their relationship, seemingly contemplating making a permanent change.

It might be argued that Lloyd's repeat use of a chilled-out, female-vocal cover of Depeche Mode's "Enjoy the Silence" is a little on the nose for Pinter ("Words like violence / Break the silence"). But the effect is powerful and the music choices, including Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, Ryuichi Sakamoto and Norwegian electronic duo Royskopp, help thread one scene to the next, as words and wounds bleed into the spaces between.

At the beginning of the play (which is the end of the story), Robert's infidelities also have contributed to end the marriage, two years after Emma has broken off the affair with a still-aching Jerry. But of the three, Jerry is arguably the only one who wears his guilt visibly. The excellent Cox plays that burden with a palpable sense of the pain beneath Jerry's studied attempts to keep things light and breezy. His declaration to Emma in the final scene, at the start of their love story, is one of the most searing Pinter monologues — ecstatic in its expression of romantic feeling and yet desolate in the awareness that Emma is condemning Jerry to a kind of exquisite misery.

"I can't ever sleep again, no, listen, it's the truth, I won't walk, I'll be a cripple, I'll descend, I'll diminish, into total paralysis, my life is in your hands, that's what you're banishing me to, a state of catatonia, do you know the state of catatonia? Do you? Do you? The state of… where the reigning prince is the prince of emptiness, the prince of absence, the prince of desolation. I love you."

Those last three little words never sounded so doomed. The smile of contentment as Robert interrupts them, entering the room from the party all three are attending, seems veiled on Hiddleston's face with a suggestion that he already sees what's happening. And Lloyd stages the closing moments like a mournful dance, anticipating the pain of what's to come.

It's just six years since the last sizzling Broadway revival of this work, directed by Mike Nichols and starring Daniel Craig, Rachel Weisz and Rafe Spall, all in top form. But this very fine production makes an absolutely compelling case for returning so quickly to the play, in which betrayals cut in every direction — between couples, friends and within the characters themselves. Lloyd and his actors illuminate a glimmering darkness in the drama, a deeper well of sorrows that linger in the air even after the cast take their bows.

If there's one nagging issue, it's with the audience, not the production. While it's great for business that fans flock to Broadway to see an MCU star like Hiddleston showing consummate skill, the constant laughs at inappropriate moments must be distracting for the actors, particularly in the many moments of quiet devastation. Sure, there are sparks of dry humor throughout Betrayal, but c'mon people, it’s Pinter, not Upright Citizens Brigade. It's for grownups.

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[ Link to full article in source below. ]

#Tom Hiddleston #Zawe Ashton #Charlie Cox #Betrayal Broadway #The Hollywood Reporter review article #bernard b jacobs theater #jamie lloyd production #harold pinter play #Theatre tom #tom hiddleston stage performance #tom as robert #zawe as emma #charlie as jerry #Broadway debut #new york city