#the way mary oliver saw it
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“Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver x “Dungeon Meshi” by Ryoko Kui
Inspiration under the cut<3
This was heavily (completely) inspired by “a little creature who loves you” by wtfoctogon on ao3 (@wtfoctagon/@possamble on here) and the way they write falin. The second i saw this quote i thought of falin and their story. When i asked if it would be ok to post this they said its the same quote they had in mind when writing her😂 Sadly i am not the genius i think i am, wtfoctogon is just that good at creating such a beautiful and clear picture of falin. I cant imagine there’s very many of you who haven’t, but if you like farcille and haven’t been reading this story you should drop everything and go read it right this second
#everyone say thank you wtfoctogon for writing this story#and for indulging my never ending need for descriptions of marcille and her manuerisms ears and facial expressions#im having so much fun making these web weaves fr#falin touden#dungeon meshi#web weaving#my posts#farcille#delicious in dungeon#dungeon meshi spoilers
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pray/want | j. sc
bad boy!sungchan x church girl!reader | 9.5k words
back at it again with another installment of my sacrilegious series! hope you guys enjoy heh. loosely based off of it will come back by hozier.
contains: drug mention, hand stuff (f. and m. receiving), biblical references and allusions to mary magdalene
sacrilegious masterlist
you were too forgiving. too merciful. you were raised to think it was a strength. giving extra grace to people who don’t deserve it. forgiving those who took advantage of you.
it was a problem you had since you were a child. you always considered yourself to be empathetic towards others before you even knew what the word meant. if they were mean to you, they must have been having a bad day. if someone took your toys on the playground, they must have wanted it more. if you were pushed, they must be in a hurry. everyone in your life told you this was a strength to have. they presented your patience as if it was a holy virtue, and it was your duty to give it to everyone. your private christian school only further instilled this mindset. meeting everyone where they were often came at your expense, but you didn’t mind. school was an echo chamber of positivity and life was a bubble inside the padded walls of the church.
sungchan was your first introduction to the world outside. he was a new face at mass, round and young just like yours. you remember being confused at the way they scowled at him, how the elders pinched his sides and told him to pay attention to the preacher. he remained unbothered, always picking at the chipping paint on the pews or messing with the flimsy hand fans. you watched as they called sungchan a problem kid and a troublemaker. you think that the words they whispered about sungchan was the first time you were exposed to the harsh reality of people. you watched those words mold sungchan into the very thing they called him. whispers from the elders told you that he was out doing drugs, having sex with women, and hanging out with the wrong crowd. you remember your parents pulling you aside and telling you to not get involved with him, that he would only drag you down.
your empathetic heart couldn’t stop you from extending an olive branch to sungchan. you didn’t see him as the terrible person they claimed him to be. you saw him as a troubled boy with no guidance. he was still so young, the same age as you with baby fat present on his cheeks.
sungchan taught you that your forgiving heart was a character flaw. it was a problem you were developing, not being able to leave him alone. you were like his silent apostle, set on the mission of fixing his tumultuous relationship with the church. you would sit next to him during youth group and answer for him, singing extra loud during hymns incase he didn’t know the words. your voice had gone raw from talking to him constantly. you would talk to him for ages to only get a simple shrug or a one worded reply. it didn’t stop you, only further encouraged you to try and break down his walls.
you came to him in between mass and individual prayer when you saw him sneak out through a door in the kitchen. you found him outside leaning against the church, smoking right below the kitchen window. all someone had to do was look outside and they could see him.
“you know you’re smoking right in front of the window?” you ask him.
sungchan didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. your polite and slightly nagging voice seemed to follow him everywhere. but sungchan found himself looking to you often, loving the shocked look on your face when he’d shrug his shoulders and blow smoke clouds into the air.
“i don’t care.” sungchan says.
his tone had become flatter over the years, losing that playful lift he had when you first met him. his sentences had become deadpanned words and eyes became stone. it didn’t drive you away, it only did the opposite.
you come down the stairs, lifting your sunday dress as you did so. the flowy fabric grazed your ankles, and revealed your cute frilly socks. sungchan watched you let the dress come back down your legs, using the same hand to motion at his cigarette.
“can i try?” you ask.
sungchan has amusement on his lips as he raises his eyebrows at your question. he takes in another drag, turning his head away so he doesn’t blow smoke in your face.
“you smoke?” sungchan asks.
you shrug your shoulders, trying to copy the way sungchan did it. it feels awkward pretending not to care about anything and you’re sure sungchan can tell that your shoulders stayed up for just a moment too long.
“yeah. sometimes.” you lie.
you don’t know why you are lying to sungchan, or why the lie fell so easily from your lips. you were never the type to ever lie, telling the truth no matter what consequence fell upon you. sungchan looks towards the door to the kitchen. someone could come out at any moment and catch you.
sungchan was intrigued by you. he let his eyebrows fall back down his face and looked away from you to knock the ash from the end of his cigarette. he was intrigued how you continue to stay there while all of his attention went to the ash falling from his cigarette, something that came like second nature to him. sungchan let his eyes go to your clear jelly shoes, something he had only seen children wear. he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a little laugh seeing you nervously rock back on your heels while he basically ignored you.
once the ash had fallen to the ground sungchan walked over to you. he looked down with a smirk as he moved it to your lips. when you tried to grab it with your own hand sungchan raised it just out of your lips reach. you looked at him and he lightly shook his head.
“the smell will get on you, let me hold it.” sungchan said.
he watched you as you took your first drag from the cigarette. you almost went crosseyed to focus on the butt of the cigarette lighting up. it was fine only for a moment, before your lungs that were only used to pulling in air filled up with smog. your lungs started screaming at you and you could feel your throat burn, but sungchan looking at you expectantly egged you on.
“attagirl.” he said once he decided you were done.
he pulled the cigarette away from you and watched you intently.
you could only hold in the smoke for a second before you started coughing profusely. sungchan gently clapped his hand over your back, your face started to burn along with your throat and lungs, embarrassed at how you couldn’t stop coughing. the heat only intensified when you looked up at sungchan. being so close to sungchan made you realize how angelic he looked. he was like a cherub, with his soft cheeks and unblemished skin. you were wondering how anyone in the church could call someone so pretty such awful. he had a smile on his face while looking at you, biting his lip to not laugh in your face. he distracted you almost to the point your body forgot it had to cough, having to turn away from his face to cough into your fist. right before you could cough, you heard the screen door of the kitchen open.
“what are you two doing?” a woman said.
you recognized the woman from the congregation. she had a hand on her hip and the other clutching a purse just a little too big for her close to her chest. her dresses always matched her purse, and you always found your eyes ruefully drifting to the fraying garment of her apparel.
sungchan looked at you, like he was expecting you to lie to the woman. your heaves had turns into slightly labored breathing, clearing your throat to keep yourself from coughing. he saw your expression and decided to take matters into his own hands. he leaned against the wall of the church to hide his hand. he dropped his cigarette to the ground behind him, putting out the end with his heel. he cleared his throat and you cleared yours again. when sungchan straightened his back you did too.
“praying.” sungchan said sarcastically.
the lady rolled her eyes. you saw her sneak a pack of cigarettes back into her purse and she flicked her head towards the door.
“go back inside. they need help setting the table.” she said.
sungchan puts his hands in his pockets and starts heading towards the door. he is unfazed by the light scolding, something he has gotten used to over the years. you, however felt your heart drop at the thought of disappointing someone older than you. the shame is doubled when the older lady stops you before you go inside.
“you’re a good girl. you shouldn’t be hanging out with him. he’s a bad influence.” she said quietly.
you know sungchan could hear it, because his steps falter for a moment before he continues walking out of sight. you nod in haste, wanting the interaction to be over. the lady closes the door and you watch sungchan go past the kitchen. he continues to walk down the hallway of the church, far away from everyone else.
the lady’s warning set the dynamic for your relationship with sungchan. it didn’t stop you from seeing him, it could be argued it made you want to hang out with him more. you had become his goody-two-shoes sidekick, tagging along to his adventures and indulging yourself in his lifestyle.
you had your first drink with sungchan. you remember taking the shot, the clear liquid stinging the back of your throat and making your stomach warm. it had become more enticing to you than the blood of christ that touched your lips during communion. the cheers of your name from the unfamiliar faces around you tempted you to take another.
when your hand reached for the bottom sungchan places his hand over yours. you looked up to sungchan and found the same look on his face of when you took your first drag of the cigarette. you didn’t know a look could be so powerful, giving you the courage to do things you would’ve never done in a thousand years.
you watched sungchan’s friend get a tattoo the same day you got your first piercing in the bathroom. sungchan leaned over the sink to inspect your ear, marking the perfect place. you could feel his hot breath fan your neck as he prepped your ear for the puncture.
“you’re parents might be upset.” sungchan said.
he pulled away from your ear to look at you. he was giving you the chance to back out, to refuse the piercing. but it was that look he gave you that had you shrugging your shoulders—it was starting to come to you naturally.
“i don’t care.” you said.
the truth was you did care, but you cared more about the man dangerously close to you. your parents were the furthest thing from your mind as sungchan went back to looking at your ear, sticking a needle through your lobe. the sound you made caught both you and sungchan by surprise. you bit your lip when he did the other ear, not trying to make that sound in front of him again. your teeth nearly drew blood from your lip when sungchan moved backwards to inspect you, making sure the punctures were even.
when sungchan turned you around in the mirror he stood behind you as you checked out the new jewelry. you turned your head, trying to take it all in. you looked to your ears then sungchan, standing behind you with his hand on your shoulders.
“it’s pretty.” you said.
sungchan looked into the mirror to look into your eyes.
“yes. very pretty.” sungchan said.
just when you thought you had sungchan, he disappeared. it was like he was a ghost or a figment of your imagination. one day he was sitting next to you in the pews and the next day he wasn’t. he stopped coming to church, his parents stopped coming too. rumors spread that he had runaway after a particularly bad argument with his parents. the fact that his parents were too ashamed to come back made you assume they did something awful the church didn’t want to admit.
sungchan was even harder to get in contact with. each time you had hung out with him he came and found you. when you wanted to reach him, you realized you had no way to do so.
not being able to see him led to your imagination running wild. everyday you would go outside to the kitchen window where he would smoke, looking out into the forest that surrounded your church. your mind had helplessly come up with a scenario each time you’d walk down the steps. your mind conjured up the image of sungchan hiding in the trees, scared to be seen by anyone else but you. after seeing sungchan you’d stop in your tracks, so surprised to see him standing there. you had practiced your facial expressions, letting your eyebrows raise and your eyes get large. you saw yourself mindlessly walking over to him when he’d beckon to you. you imagined that he would bring you in for a kiss, a type of kiss that would make up for the months of all the yearning and pining.
then afterwards you imagined that sungchan would tell you how much he missed you, not being able to find god at the parties of the bottom of shot glasses. you’d then walk him back to the church and have the congregation apologize for pushing his soul to stray even further away from the path of god. you wondered about a christian wedding, going full traditional. having kids that were baptized for everyone to see. everything about you two would be by the holy book, except for sex. you don’t think you could wait that long.
your manifestation of sungchan coming to you didn’t come to fruition. you didn’t see sungchan until months later as you were leaving choir practice. the expression you had practiced didn’t pan out the way you wanted to. your binder fell from your hands, sheet music falling onto the rocky parking lot.
sungchan came over to help you quickly, catching papers before they could run away in the wind. you had bent down to take the music from him, but you were frozen, stuck in place looking at sungchan. he didn’t say a word to you until your papers were safely tucked away again in your binder, closing it and putting it back in your hands. he looked to you and you couldn’t believe your eyes. your feet were stuck to the ground keeping you both in the squat position.
“hi.” sungchan said quietly.
you nodded you head and cleared your throat. you hung onto your binder, the only thing keeping you present.
“where have you been?” your voice is barely above a whisper.
you had a white knuckle grip on your flimsy plastic binder. you don’t know why you were so nervous to ask sungchan a question. in his absence he had become someone you didn’t want to doubt, scared that he would leave you again.
sungchan’s face flashes for a moment before he stands up. he dusts himself off, metaphorically wiping your question off of him. he holds out his hand for you and you grab it, surprised at how clammy his hand is on yours.
once you’re up you still stare at him like he’s a ghost.
“can i take you somewhere?” sungchan asks.
it was dangerous to have sungchan in your life. you found yourself nodding quickly to every question he had, you think you would leave the church the same way he did if he held your hand while you walked out. seeing sungchan smile outside of the church made you wonder what life was like outside of it. maybe it was nice and you would be happier than you were here. so you nodded as he led you to the motorcycle that looked similar to his fathers.
he helped you to the back and took a helmet out of the side compartment. he coaxed your musical binder from your hands to put it in there, tightening the leather strap to keep it safe. you were nearly shaking with anxiety as sungchan put on his helmet too, throwing his leg over to straddle the seat.
the engine revved underneath you, and your hands that were previously gripping your binder were now clenched at your sides. you waited for sungchan to reach behind him and guide your hands to clasp around his waist.
“hold on tight.” sungchan said as he pushed away the kickstand.
your words were drowned out by the sound of the motorcycle leaving the parking lot. you held onto him, letting your head rest against his back as he hit the throttle. you thought that the road sungchan was taking you down at an unbelievable speed could be comparable to your life. the fear that came with your future turned to excitement when sungchan turned around and looked at you, asking if you were having fun. everything that was scary seemed fun when you had your arms around sungchan’s waist, even the idea of getting into an accident on the motorcycle turned into a thrill for you. it was the same thrill that sungchan always seemed to give you. it was one that only subsided when you used the same hand that signed the cross on yourself underneath the sheets. you pressed your hands flat against his stomach, feeling how solid he was through his shirt. sungchan’s back vibrated against your head from laughing.
sungchan didn’t move your hands until the motorcycle was parked. your eyes didn’t open until the engine stopped roaring and sungchan gently touched you to let you know you had both arrived. you don’t know how long your eyes were squeezed shut to get here. you opened your eyes to sungchan standing in front of you, helping you out of your helmet. this was somehow more intimate than having your arms wrapped around his waist as you two plummeted down the highway. you had to look away for your own good, focusing on the concert venue that had a steady stream of people going in. you saw people dressed like sungchan going in, various crowds of people were around the concert hall smoking while others tipped their heads back and wiped their noses.
“have you ever listened to music that wasn’t religious?” sungchan said.
he had leaned against his motorcycle as you took in the view around you. it felt like you were dropped in a different dimension or alternate reality from your own. you had no idea that people like this existed so close to your modest township. it was all so foreign to you that you couldn’t even find the words to describe the aesthetic. the words came and went, trying to define ripped skinny jeans and people cursing freely. what this had to do with music was beyond you, but before you could answer sungchan’s question you saw him turn his head towards someone in the moving mass of people.
“sungchan! you’re fucking late!”
you followed the voice until it landed on someone dressed similarly to sungchan. black leather jacket and ripped skinny jeans, with hair that was so black it shined underneath the street lamps. he looked younger than you and sungchan, he had an innocent look about him that betrayed the clothes he was sporting. the only thing you had in common with the person in front of you was the same beat up shoes you both everyday. you felt nervous and out of place, like you didn’t belong here.
“who is this?” the boy said.
he seemed to know you didn’t belong here either, his voice significantly lower than when he called to his friend. the boys gaze went back to sungchan after giving you a once over. you did the same, looking to sungchan like you didn’t know who you were.
“this is,” sungchan looked like he was contemplating for a moment. a hand that was supporting his body against his motorcycle pointed towards you. “my friend from church.” sungchan said.
anton’s eyes got big for a moment, head slightly tilting in confusion. it was almost like a lightbulb went off anton’s his head a second later. anton turned to you, his face suddenly neutral.
“oh. nice to meet you. i’m anton.”
he didn’t offer his hand out to you, they stayed stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. he nodded his head and you did your best to copy him. it felt just like when you started shrugging your shoulders to copy sungchan. anton took his phone from his back pocket and showed the time to sungchan. it was about to be your curfew.
“wonbin is about to be on soon.” anton said.
“let’s go then.” sungchan said.
sungchan pushed himself off his bike and started following the crowd heading towards the building. you followed behind the two men, not really having anywhere else to go. you couldn’t help but stare at every face you passed by, wondering where all these kids your age had come from.
the only indication that showed you were in your town still was that the building had the same look as everything else in your town. there was a certain archaic and abandoned look to the building on the exterior. the brick had cracks the painting was chipped, and vegetation grew along the edges. the closer you, sungchan, and anton got to the building you could make out the faded sign of what the building once was. it was a factory who knows how long ago, and judging by the size business was booming at one point. now it was honing beacon for all the rebels in your town, young adults that were the same age as you but looked wiser and seemed significantly more mature. you had always been proud of your innocence when it came to life, but your lack of experience weighed down on you heavy as you looked past the large doors into the unknown.
you saw two burly men guarding the entrance dressed in all black with shades on even though it was nighttime. both of their eyes immediately went to you, and you felt even more out of place than before. sungchan followed their eyes to see what they were looking at. he grabbed your hand and you grabbed it back, trying to seem as casual as possible. sungchan visibly straightened his shoulders a little more, his hand settling on something in his back pocket. you saw anton show his ID to the other bouncer while sungchan’s hand led you to the other one. the bouncer held out his hand but before he could ask for your ID, sungchan smiled big at him.
“she’s with me.” sungchan said cheerfully.
“still need to see ID.” he said.
you see sungchan pull whatever it was from his back pocket and hand it to the bouncer. it’s something small, but sungchan’s body blocks your line of sight to see exactly what it is. the bouncer gives you one last look and you can’t stop yourself from looking down at your feet. you’re sure it is painfully obvious you shouldn’t be here. the bouncer takes mercy on you for some reason and nods his head. sungchan pulls you by your hand to drag you inside. the bouncer only continues to look at you for a second before tending to the next person in line.
the inside of the venue was completely opposite of the outside. if the outside was worn down the interior looked like it was recently experienced a complete rebirth. the ground you thought would be cracked concrete was reworked hardwood. the mass of people coming in walked towards a medium sized stage, where a curtain was drawn hiding who was behind it. this was what you imagined to be a concert venue now, equipped with stands on both sides for extra people. you didn’t know something like this existed in your town. you stopped for a moment and anton looked back at you smiling.
“first time?” anton asked.
sungchan looked between you and anton with an apprehensive look. you almost felt like you shouldn’t talk to him before you nodded your head yes.
“this is like sunday mass but for a different type of congregation.” anton said.
you don’t know anton said it to poke fun at you, the smile on his lips fading when he looked at sungchan. but it made complete sense. everyone looked the same, dressed in attire for the occasion the same way you dressed every sunday morning. anton and sungchan bobbed and weaved through the crowd, sungchan leading you through the mass of people until you ended up on the side. anton said something to the security guard, leaning in close before turning around and pointing at you and sungchan. the security guard faltered for a moment before stepping back and pulling open the safety gate. the three of you walked through and made it on the other side of the curtain to a smaller room.
immediately when you walk in the something musty and pungent fills your nose. it’s strong and almost skunky. you look to anton and sungchan—they are unfazed. you don’t comment on the overwhelming smell, or the smoke that filled the small room.
you only remember being in the room for ten minutes before your perception of time changed. one moment you just suddenly felt yourself looking to the clock every ten minutes to see that only two had passed. you sat on the couch while sungchan navigated the whole room. they listened to every word and the way they followed him around made you think of disciples. it made you giggle, you smiling into your hand when sungchan came to you on the couch.
“what’s so funny?” sungchan asked.
he had a smile of his own now, and his eyes were low and bleary. when you forgot the answer you just kept smiling. sungchan smiled back at you. you were giggling while sungchan when sungchan told his friend to break a leg, and you were giggling when sungchan grabbed you hand and took you to the bathrooms. you laughed at how piss covered the floors and how there was no toilet paper or soap in the dispensers. you were nearly in tears when sungchan started stuffing pieces of toilet paper into your ears as makeshift ear plugs. he was laughing too, quelling your worries that the toilet paper would get stuck in your ears.
whatever you felt had died down by the time the show started, the loud music pulling you from your trance. the music thumped in your chest, you had to hold a hand to your heart to make sure it was still beating. sungchan seemed unbothered by being so close to the speakers though. he was cheering and singing along with his friend on stage. sungchan smiled more than you had ever seen him do so in church, and he knew all the words unlike the latin hymns he mouthed unsuccessfully during service.
everyone sang along to the lyrics except for you, bodies bumped into yours and everyone was pushing. if it wasn’t for sungchan behind you, you were sure you would’ve been swallowed up into the crowd. the music was nothing like what you were used to, but you tried to enjoy it anyway. it was different to see what rebels your age were doing while you were busy knowing nothing about life beyond your oratory.
the music blared from the stage, the bass made the floor underneath your feet shake. it went right through the soles of your shoes and travelled up from the balls of your feet. the bass went all the way to your head, shaking the individual hairs and rattling your skull. it was like all your senses were being taken away from you and replaced solely with the music that played onstage.
you could barely make out anything from the strobing lights, as fast as you were granted vision it was ripped away. the flashing lights contributed to the energy of the people surrounded you, like a ticking time bomb as gasoline filled all the way to the ceiling. everyone’s restless bodies started colliding when the music intensified. you don’t know if people started forgetting there were bodies around them as the music got louder and louder. it was the same way it was at sunday service. you saw people be overcome with emotion as they pushed to the music. they were swayed by the band on stage the same way your congregation was swayed by the priest. but just like there and just like now, the only thing that swayed you was sungchan. the only difference was that in church you could only dream about how close he was to you now. his hands rested on your hips as he guarded your body from the people moving around you. you felt his wet lips place a kiss to your neck, so soft and gentle unlike the harsh music that played onstage and the hectic crowd of people that surrounded you.
sungchan’s wet lips pressed to your skin. you could feel the heat coming off his body in waves, and you were sweating on your own. the air seemed to vibrate as sungchan worked his way up to your ear before kissing the shell and leaning further in. you could feel his chest come close to your back as he whispered in your ear.
“i missed you.” sungchan said against your neck.
you weren’t sure if you were supposed to hear what sungchan said to you. his voice had intent, but it was supposed to be drowned out by the riffing guitar onstage and the bass that vibrated the speakers next to you. but when sungchan spoke to you, it cut through all the noise. it made the pulsing bodies surrounding you disappear. suddenly it was just you and sungchan in the venue--maybe in the whole world.
you knew that whatever you said would be lost over the sound of the music. you just tilted your head until it rested on sungchan’s and nodded, to make sure he knew you felt the same way.
you knew sungchan understood when his hands on your hip dug into the your church dress. the fabric stood no chance against his grip, it was almost like there wwas nothing there at all as sungchan held you tight.
“i want you.” he said into your ear.
you smiled as you looked ahead to the stage. want was so juvenile to you. you learned about want and have felt want for so long that it came to you like breathing. the want you were taught about in church was subject to god’s will. what you felt for sungchan couldn’t be contingent on anyone, not even if they were all knowing.
what you needed couldn’t be defined as something so simple as want. it was defined as a burning desire and something you pretended wasn’t a necessity until now. the same way you taught sungchan about the bible you planned to teach him about something else. so while you were shoulder to shoulder with sweaty pushing strangers you turned around to face him. sungchan was still leaned over to kiss your neck when you put both hands to his face to pull him in. he kissed you with want but you kissed him back with necessity. it was carnal the way you took his bottom lip into your mouth and the way the bass in your moan rang in both of your mouths. you only took a hand away from sungchan’s face to push his hands lower on your body. he gripped your ass as you deepened the kiss. you kissed sungchan so eagerly that his face was being pushed back as he tried to reciprocate.
when the song ended you pulled away first. sungchan was in the same place you left him, with his eyes closed and head tilted. his lips were red and swollen. want couldn’t compare to what you felt. you could fill this warehouse to the ceiling with want. what you felt for the man before you was something that could only be expressed underneath the sanctified sheets of your bed.
“my parents are asleep around this time. they don’t get up till afternoon service.” you said.
you said it at normal volume, still thinking it was just you and sungchan. the lights around you barely illuminated your face as your faced sungchan. your voice was lost in the screaming crowd, and sungchan could hardly make out the words your lips mouthed. so he looked into your eyes, he let them guide his next actions as he nodded his head. sungchan looked down to see your hand and your gaze fix on the exit.
the show was over when sungchan grabbed your hand and led you to the exit. it was sungchan who was pushing concertgoers now, bumping into people without care if they were in the way. you trailed behind him, bumping into people as a result of it. you apologized to who you could, but someone giving you a hard look was the least of your worries. you would repent for being impatient later.
you and sungchan beat the crowd leaving the venue. he didn’t bother to look for his friend or to say goodbye. sungchan was only focused on making sure his spare motorcycle helmet was secure on your head before kicking his bike off the ground.
you held onto sungchan’s waist as you sped down the highway towards your home. you took the risk to let go of him when he hit the highway. he slowed down on the empty road to let you spread your arms out. you felt the wind around you, and you hoped it would carry away the smell of cigarettes and skunk that stuck to your clothes. sungchan still knew the way, and he knew to park his motorcycle on the side of the road instead of pulling up to the driveway.
you looked to sungchan one last time before opening the door to your home. he was on his own path that deviated from the church a long time ago. you weren’t sure what he was doing besides enjoying music and doing drugs, but it didn’t matter. him being outside of the church as you were leaving had to be something like divine intervention.
it was that intervention that led sungchan down your creaky hallway, sneaking past your parents that were sleeping on the couch. with a finger to your lips sungchan found himself following someone else’s orders for the first time in awhile, taking the same steps as you to be as quiet as possible.
sungchan walked down your hallway that was adorned with crosses and decorations of angels. he was sure he saw the statue of jesus on the top of a table, and a painting of his birth was stuck to the wall. sungchan let you pass by him so you could slowly open the door of your bedroom. he looked down the hallway to see the glow from the television casted on the wall. he heard the low sound of a late night televangelist before hearing your voice.
“sungchan.”
you called to him gently from the depth of your room. he couldn’t see from his spot in the shadow of your hallway, so his feet carried him until he was beside your doorframe.
sungchan saw you sitting on the center of your bed. you were still in your dress, but sungchan felt like you were laying yourself bare before him. he was frozen in place underneath the rosary that draped your doorframe. he was compelled to do the sign of the cross over his body, but nothing could make him move. it wasn’t until you beckoned to him that sungchan took a deep breath before taking a step into your room.
sungchan said nothing about the religious paraphernalia in your room. suddenly the crosses you had collected over the course of your life was humiliating as sungchan looked at every single one of them. you motioned for him to turn off the lights as he closed the door behind him, but the miniature figure of christ you had on your desk could still be seen in the dead of night. sungchan almost felt like something terrible would happen to him if he mentioned it, like getting struck by lightning or your parents suddenly coming into your room.
the only thing that kept sungchan calm was looking at you. you felt unrest seeing sungchan stand still in your doorway. he must’ve still feared something judging him by the way he looked at you. you patted the space on the bed beside you, adjusting yourself on your knees to seem as welcoming as possible.
sungchan sat on the bed next to you, his legs leaning over the side of the bed. he was ready to get up and leave at any moment. you’re body head to toe is tingling with excitement, and you want to remind sungchan about the want he told you about earlier. you turn your back to him and reveal the zipper down the back of your dress.
“can you help me?” you ask.
sungchan says nothing, but you can feel the pads of his fingers hold the fabric surrounding your zipper in place while he brings the other hand to the zipper itself. you can feel the pads of his fingers on the bare skin of your neck that the dress doesn’t cover. you shake as your hear the metal teeth open down your back, and the cold skin of your room touches your skin.
when the zipper is all the way down, sungchan brings his hand to your two shoulders. he slowly helps your arms out of the sleeves, and you let it fall off your body. you can hear him exhale and feel his breath fan the skin of your back. sungchan brings hesitant fingers to the clasp of your bra. you can hear him behind you shuffle to move his body further on the bed.
“can i?” sungchan whispers.
you swallow and nod your head.
“yes.” you say quietly.
sungchan misses the clasp on the first try, and it catches you off guard when your chest suddenly feels free after his second attempt. he helps you out of the bra the same way he did with your dress. you let it fall off your body, falling on top of the pile your dress made.
you stretch the curve or your back. sungchan only looks at your shoulder blades, too nervous to move any further. you lift the top of your dress from the bed and press it to your bare chest. you look behind your shoulder to look at sungchan. his eyes break from your shoulders to your eyes, and then to your lips. sungchan watches you as you move backwards onto the bed, giving him space to move in front of you.
the two of you sit in the silence of your room, looking to eachother. you can hear the sound of the wind blowing outside, and the sound of a loud commercial break on the television in the living room. you move underneath the loose fabric of your dress and bring your legs closer to your body. sungchan shifts too, and you can see his hand reach out before he brings it back to his body. he lets his finger press into the duvet on your bed as you clear your throat.
“do you still want me?” you ask.
sungchan nods his head and moves forward towards you. he still hesitates, not letting his hand that’s on your calf go up any higher.
“i want you so bad. you don’t understand.” sungchan said.
you hated that you understood what sungchan meant all too well. you could sit here and debate the logistics with him, how you could teach him what it feels like to truly yearn something like the way you yearned for him. you wanted to show sungchan about passion that went beyond want, and you longed to drive him so crazy that he would feel the same burning desire you felt when you didn’t see him for all that time. so you grab sungchan’s hand and guide it to the dress you had let go of. it rested on your body like covers, ready to be taken off if sungchan was willing. he looked to you and you nodded your head as he held your dress.
sungchan pulled the dress away from you slowly, revealing more and more of you to him. you gasped as you felt his eyes on you. by the time sungchan takes your dress fully off, you are only left in your cross pendant and underwear. sungchan is entranced, eyes dragging down your whole body. he lifts your legs to help pull the dress off all the way. sungchan gently drops your clothes over the edge of your bed. you point at sungchan’s shirt, and he takes off his shirt and pants too.
you are both left in your underwear underneath the plethora of crosses on your wall. the bible is next to your bed on the table with a rosary piled neatly on top. it’s ignored when you sit on your bed and spread your bent legs slightly. sungchans hand starts from your feet, tracing up your leg slowly until he reaches your knee. his fingers come down your leg as he slots his body in between them.
his fingers don’t stop until he thumbs the cross pendant on your necklace.
“sign of the cross.” sungchan says quietly.
you settle further into your bed, and spread your legs further.
“do you remember how to do it?” you ask
sungchan nods before bringing three fingers from his right hand to your bare body. he touched your forehead, then dragged his fingers down the valley of your chest to your solar plexus. sungchan touched both of your shoulders, using your collarbone as a guide. you let out a breath sigh of amen, but sungchan didn’t do the same. he brought his hand back to your stomach, going lower and lower on your body. he looked at you for permission, and you nodded and spread your legs further.
you felt the carnal desire that evolved from want fill your room to the brim as sungchan let his fingers go underneath the waistband of your panties. he teased you only for a second, the pads of his fingers bumping your clit before his fingers went further down your folds. you gasped when sungchan finally put his fingers inside of you. he kept his fingers still for a moment inside of you, waiting for you to adjust and move first. you wasted no time pulling your hips back to bring them forward again as you used sungchan’s fingers to pleasure yourself.
he brought his other hand to your lower stomach, feeling the supple skin of your stomach.
“i’m so bad for you, you know.” sungchan said.
his actions differed from his words. the way he had his fingers on you made you feel so good, and the high you felt from the drugs in your system and the rush from the night made you want to continue chasing that feeling. so you ignore sungchan’s indirect warnings and continued to push your hips to meet his fingers.
“i can save you.” you whimper quietly.
sungchan looked from your hips to your eyes. he looked deep into you but you didn’t shy away. you continued to push your hips to feel his fingers go inside of you deeper. you didn’t break eye contact until sungchan bent his fingers and hit a spot you didn’t know existed. you bit your lip and tilted your head back. your whole body leaned, forcing you to prop yourself up on your outstretched hands behind you.
sungchan moved from his spot on the bed to get closer you. he hovered over your body, his hand on top of yours as his other hand continued to pump in and out of your body. you looked up at sungchan, spreading your legs further as sungchan took over. he let you rest as he started doing all the work. he wanted it to be fast, seeing your chest jump as his finger started pistoning into you. you brought your hand that was free to hold sungchan’s bicep. he still held your gaze, nodding as you let quiet moans fall from your lips. your eyes closed in bliss—you couldn’t stop the words from falling out of your mouth.
“oh my god.” you sighed.
“i know.” sungchan whispered back.
sungchan kept going, even through the pain of you digging your nails into his skin. he kept going even when you fell to your back and closed your thighs around his hand. sungchan didn’t stop until you cried out his name from your pillow and slick want came from you. you clamped around his fingers and sungchan scissored them inside of you, trying to give you all you could take. he didn’t stop until your legs slid down your bed and you used a weak hand to pull his fingers out of you.
sungchan watched you bring your hand to your chest as you stared at the ceiling. sungchan laid on the bed next to you and placed a hand next to yours. he could feel your heart pounding in its cage. he brought a hand to his heart and he could feel it beat with the same urgency.
you let yourself relax next to sungchan. you let your hand go down his body. you do the same thing sungchan did to your body, your three fingers grazing across his body before going underneath the waistband of his boxers. you look up and kiss sungchan’s forehead as you wrap your hand around his length. it’s heavy and twitches in your hand as you slowly stroke him.
his usual demeanor crumbles almost instantly, he is the vulnerable one underneath your touch. he pushes his body further up until he is resting against the headboard of your bed and you follow him. you face sungchan as you continue pumping his length, and his hands dig into your sheets. you come closer to his lips to kiss him again, trying to swallow the tiny sighs he lets out. sungchan gives you the reins and you let desire take control of your actions. desire makes you pull down sungchan’s waistband and it makes you put your tongue into his mouth. sungchan pulls his underwear off the rest of the way and you take a peak at his length. in the darkness of your room the moonlight comes in perfectly, giving you just enough sight. you can see your hand glisten in the light as it goes up and down sungchan’s dick. it’s a soft wet sound, only magnified by the quiet of the night.
sungchan grips your hand and tightens it around his length. he starts lifting his hips to fuck himself up into your hand and you watch his body work to bring himself pleasure. you can see the sweat form on his taut skin, and his hair starts to stick to his forehead from the exertion. sungchan can barely bring himself to look at you as he chases his own pleasure. you force him to make eye contact when you move his bangs from his face and lift his gaze with fingers underneath his chin. the pace he set with his thrusts falter for a second when he looks into your eyes. you help him by bringing your hand down faster and tighten the grip of your hand. you can feel sungchan’s hand clasp around yours further, and how his thighs start to shake from the work of thrusting.
that’s what separates you and sungchan. his want drives him to hastily fuck your hand, trying to reach a high that only came to him hours ago. what you needed has had time to ferment. it started as want—you wanted sungchan to come to church. you wanted him to find his path. you wanted him to kiss you. but it had time to brew in your stomach over the time time you didn’t see him and when your mind was forced to fill in the gaps. it was like a wound, festering on your skin and reopened anytime sungchan came into your orbit. he knew nothing about yearning or craving something the way you did. but you kept pumping your hand for him, because you wanted to keep him coming back for more. you wanted to become a wound on his skin and burn the fleeting touches into his brain. you were going to become something sungchan longed for, and maybe over that time your own craving would subside. sungchan would need you and you would be able to use a word as weak as want to describe how you feel about him.
when sungchan’s hand go back into your panties, your hand faltered. you looked to sungchan bewildered, but he only looked back at you with blown out eyes. his eyes consumed you while his bitten lips drew you in again. maybe sungchan already felt the same as you, he was just better at hiding it. maybe the plan you had for sungchan would end up destroying the both of you. you didn’t care as you helplessly rutted into his fingers. if desire killed you before it subsided to want you would be okay with it. if you were to die at the hands of something that felt so good, you would welcome it with open arms.
you brought your mouth away from sungchan’s to go to his neck. you suck and bit at his skin, and he brought a hand to your back to bring you closer. you were kneeling beside his body, praying into the skin of sungchan’s neck as he whimpered next to you. in the comfort of your bed kneeling wasn’t painful. you wondered why you spent so much of your life kneeling for forgiveness on the rough ground of the outside world or the padded walls of your church. you wasted your time kneeling to anything but pleasure.
your revelation hits you the same time it hits sungchan. he thrusts into your hand once more before staying there. he whined quietly as his hand presses deeper into your back and inside of you. you can feel his dick twitch and warmth covers his hand and yours in spurts. you continue to pump his dick as he becomes a mess underneath you and you grind your hips on his hand so you can feel your own revelation again. your body turns to jello for the second time of the night as you lean your entire body weight against sungchan’s chest. you can’t stop letting your sounds increase in volume as you lean further into sungchan’s chest. you let your sounds out into his clammy skin as he continues to finger you. you have to take your hand from his dick and pull his hand out so you can calm down.
“i’m sorry.” sungchan says.
he wraps both arms around you and brings you weak body in for a hug. you only shake your head, trying to form a coherent thought.
”it’s okay.” you whine.
after you come back from heaven, you realize exhaustion is starting to weigh down on your body. you’ve had a busy day, the adrenaline high crashes down on you fast. you end up drifting to sleep still leaned against sungchan’s body, but he is left wide awake. he only says your name once, slightly shaking your body to see if you will come to. you don’t wake up, and sungchan uses what’s left of his energy to slide down from the headboard so you’re both laying on the bed. sungchan feels the mess he made over his hands and stomach. he believes that he doesn’t have a home here, or the right to lay in your bed. so he gently moves your sleeping body, pulling your hand wrapped around his waist and turning you so you lay on the pillow. your body instantly adapts, pulling in a blanket to hold it the same way you were holding him.
sungchan gets up from your bed and starts putting his clothes back on. it’s slow and hesitant—he does everything in his power to keep you asleep. sungchan starts walking towards your door with his jacket and belt in hand when he hears shuffling on your bed.
“do you need a place to sleep tonight?” you whisper sleepily.
sungchan froze before he could turn the handle. he looked back at you, seeing your state and he nodded solemnly. you thought even in the dark of night you could see his crestfallen face, or maybe it was waves that radiated off of him in droves. you thought for the night he wouldn’t be alone as you lifted up the corner of your sheets, showing an empty spot just for him. sungchan came from your doorway to your bed, setting his jacket on the back of your chair and taking off his jeans. in just his boxers and shirt he crawled underneath the covers. he held open his arms, showing he had a spot for you too. you nestled into him without hesitation, tucking your head underneath his chin.
“i would give you anything you need.” you whispered into sungchan’s chest.
his arms around your body wrapped around you more, pulling you closer. you had almost wished he had drifted off to sleep. you wanted to whisper into his chest that he could come to you like a stray cat, wounded and hungry and you’d take him in each time. you wanted to tell him that you didn’t care if you were too forgiving or too naive. you wanted to be there for him like a saint if it meant you could continue to receive his offerings. if you enabled him until there was nothing left you would savor each moment you had with him. if you ended up saving sungchan you would make a future with him.
sungchan knew that he wouldn’t be able to rid himself of you even if he tried. something about you entranced him and had him wanting to come back. maybe it was the way you prayed with the same hands you used to undress yourself backstage. he imagined nights in the near future of him sitting on the edge of your bed while you gave him a show. maybe it was a trauma response. sungchan knew that the life he was living would drain him emotionally and physically. if he were to appear on your doorstep in the dead of the night after a show or a bender he knew your forgiving heart would let him in. he knew you couldn’t bare to see someone else in pain, especially if it was him.
you both knew the dynamic you two were actively changing all night was going to become volatile later down the line. you would end up taking mercy on sungchan’s self-destructive lifestyle in exchange for the freedom he brought you, while sungchan would use you to recuperate before going out and destroying himself some more. you would try to change him under the guise of showing him “the light” and he would corrupt you under the guise of showing you life outside the church. who needed who more would only become blurred and several lines would be crossed. you both knew you were trapping yourselves in a vicious cycle, one that you would probably go through on your own to keep it a secret from the church and your family.
it didn’t matter when sungchan sighed contently and kissed your forehead. his lips were soft against your skin, it brought you the same comfort the church used to bring you. so you sighed from the comfort and settled further in your tomb, underneath the six layers of your clothes and blankets. your body was still cold, the only thing that brought warmth was sungchan’s body. it made you feel like you were alive, like you would be reborn when you emerged from the covers in the morning.
“you know i’ll be back.” sungchan said clearly.
when you woke up the next morning, sungchan had dug himself out from under the blankets. he had risen revived from your forgiveness while you were left alone in the grave.
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hiii i love your writing sooo much (first time asking anyone to do something) I was wondering if you could write a scene of Limoreau where Marie tries to make Jordan (who's with the gang) jealous before they get together by making out with another girl at a party
(bonus points if Marie tries to justify herself to the group by saying that she just wanted to ask the girl about the flavor of her lipstick)
the ficlet where marie gets absorbed in the bigender gaze and does anything to get jordan’s attention.
-
jealousy wasn’t a trait that marie was proud to experience, in fact, it left a sour feeling deep in the pits her stomach. her jaw would clench tight until she was sore, nails digging into the palm of her hands until she realized her hands had balled into fists. jealousy was an emotion she wish she could shove away and forget because it made her do crazy things, all because she desperately craved the attention of jordan li.
why them? why the hell did she want jordan's attention of all people? they were an asshole when they first met.
maybe it was the way jordan stared at them when they thought she didn't notice, or how they would text her late at night when they were both restless and unable to sleep. time slowly developed feelings and jordan proved to be nicer than expected... and they were so damn hot.
the only thing was that other than late-night texts or catching gazes with each other, jordan didn't really give her the time of day. unbeknownst to her, they were fucking terrified of rejection, but to marie – she was getting ignored.
and she was sick of it.
that's how she found herself in the bathroom of a party, reapplying dark red lipstick in the mirror and adjusting her top. she ignored the fact that she hated how she was acting, how trying to get jordan's attention was consuming her to the point that she was spending more time getting ready in the bathroom than actually socializing with others. after smacking her lips together a couple times, she was satisfied with her application and took in a sharp breath.
“you got this.” marie said to herself in the mirror, nodding slowly a few times before hastily leaving the bathroom.
the halls were full of people laughing, kissing and chatting — she forced herself through so she could go downstairs and try to spot jordan in the sea of students. it felt nearly impossible, until she spotted the glimmering silver of the necklace that adorned their neck. then, she spotted blonde hair, that had to be cate.
marie ventured closer, thankful that she downed a few shots earlier. her plan was to go, say hi to cate and hope that jordan would be entertained enough to start a conversation. easy enough.
that was until she realized the blonde girl was not cate.
the girl’s hair was shorter, a blunt bob and large, brown eyes. her smile was gorgeous. it was no wonder that jordan was completely enraptured by her, their hand lifted up to brush some hair behind her ear.
sick to her stomach was all marie felt. the shots of tequila feeling like they were finally coming up, settling in the base of her throat. a few stumbled steps back was enough to snap her back into reality, though, she still wasn’t content with what she saw.
an idea flickered in her hazy, drunken mind.
she hadn’t noticed how jordan had already broken off the conversation with the girl. not quite interested in what she had to say, finding the conversation… boring. they’d already found themselves standing deeper in the kitchen and striking up a conversation with luke and cate to better pass the time while downing more beer.
marie, blissfully unaware, instead scouring the room for something — someone — that would catch her eye. brown eyes flickered around the room until her gaze met with someone near the entrance to the kitchen, a taller girl with a beer in her hand. her hair was brown and short, styled in a messy shag. dark olive skin unblemished and perfect in all ways.
after a few beats of uninterrupted eye contact, the muster smirked at marie with interest. that’s all she needed for the liquid courage to do it’s magic.
marie was fully aware how this was completely out of her element, but god, something about this entire situation had her feeling anything like herself.
as jordan glanced around the party from behind the kitchen island, a red cup in hand full of crap beer, they spotted marie. a tiny smirk formed on their lips as their head tilted in curiosity, smile dropping with they noticed her walking over to another figure. just as they were about to turn back and ask cate about ditching the party to go to a club in haste — they saw marie’s hand lift up to rest on the taller girl’s shoulder.
what the fuck?
she smiled up at her with a toothy grin, reaching her half-lidded eyes. they saw the way her chest moved, likely laughing to some stupid joke. ignoring her would’ve been easy if it weren’t for they way they saw how marie was unbelievably close to her. it wasn’t necessary for a simple conversation.
teeth clenched together and cate was quick to notice the anger decorating jordan’s face. blue eyes followed their gaze and — yeah. that was definitely marie making out with a senior.
“wow,” cate murmured, glancing at jordan with a smirk on her lips, “you know her plan is working right?”
jordan had already crushed the red up in their hand, “what?” they snapped in rhetoric response, eyes burning as the girl’s hand touched the small of marie’s back as they kissed with far too much tongue.
“you know what i mean,” cate hummed knowingly as a gloved hand held the can of a wine cooler to her lips, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “see?”
marie pulled apart from the kiss and instead of looking up at girl, those brown eyes landed across the room onto jordan’s. her cheeks were flushed a deep red and she was out of breath.
“so stupid,” jordan mumbled, but their uncaring tone didn’t match their actions. they pushed themselves away from their position of leaning against the kitchen counter and made way straight for marie.
a masculine hand hooked on her slender elbow and dragged her away, an utter of a “what the fuck?” coming from the female super that jordan bore glares into. marie didn’t dare fight the sudden tugging. it was what she wanted. it was what she had been asking for indirectly.
all she wanted was to feel jordan’s hands on hers. to be told that she’s so damned annoying through mumbles because jordan’s lips were attached to her neck. she got what she wanted.
…
later that evening when dusty’s house was emptying, and marie and jordan were no longer biting at each other’s throats… literally, the group had found themselves lingering around.
marie was in the kitchen, having the last of a bottle of coconut rum, while jordan was getting mad at dusty for only having cheap beer. cate and emma seemingly appeared on each side of her, smirks on their faces.
“i didn’t realize you could be so toxic,” emma said, her eyes heavy and red from the weed she’d smoked, smiling as she pulled herself up to sit on the counter.
“what? i wasn’t toxic,” marie slurred, looking between her two friends as she set down the bottle, “i just wanted to taste what flavour lip balm she was wearing.”
cate and emma fell into a moment of silence before they bursted out into laughter together and at the expense of marie’s defensiveness, clutching their stomachs until they could finally calm themselves.
“it’s true!” marie hiccuped, trying so hard to defend the obvious lie, “…but she wasn’t even wearing any.”
the laughter erupted again.
#limoreau#gen v#jordan li#marie moreau#jordan li x marie moreau#limoreau fic#wordsbyspatial#spatialsanswers
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january reads
[1] this thing between us by gus moreno
★★★★★
"I don't want to get over anything, Thiago. I want to sink as far as it'll take me."
[2] dog songs: poems by mary oliver
★★★
"Finally, the slick mountains of love break over us."
[3] big swiss by jen beagin
★★★
"I once saw you at a farm stand. I was there to buy tomatoes, but I noticed you in the meat section, pulling venison cubes out of a freezer, and I fell in love with your forearms. I obsessed about them for weeks."
[4] decreation by anne carson
★★★
"I am excess. Flesh. Brain. Breath. Creature who breaks the silence of heaven, blocks God's view of his beloved creation, and like an unwelcome third between two lovers, gets in the way."
[5] a certain hunger by chelsea g. summers
★★★
"I loved him, I suppose, but it was the love of an itchy sweater that looks too good on you to throw away. Every time you slip into that sweater, you know you're going to get compliments and admiring glances, and every moment you're alone, you're going to scratch your flesh raw."
[6] sharp objects by gillian flynn
★★★★
"A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort."
[7] our wives under the sea by julia armfield
★★★
"'I think,' June says after a pause, 'that the thing about losing someone isn't the loss but the absence of afterwards. D'you know what I mean? The endlessness of that.'"
[8] autobiography of red by anne carson [reread]
★★★★★
"Geryon's life entered a numb time, caught between the tongue and the taste."
[9] the carrying by ada limón [reread]
★★★★
"What if, instead of carrying a child, I am supposed to carry grief?"
[10] my dark vanessa by kate elizabeth russel
★★★
"...pulling the words out of me like teeth."
my book rating system is as follows:
★ = i felt pure contempt the entire time
★★ = yeah it's a book
★★★ = i liked it!
★★★★ = good fucking book, damn
★★★★★ = blew my dick clean off and i'll throw a tantrum if everyone i know doesn't also read it and love it
#fuck it here you go#what i read this month and how i rated it and a quote i enjoyed from each#^^ listed in order of reading not of enjoyment#this thing between us was an iconic book to start my year with i LOVED it save me book about grief save me#8 out of 10 of these include intense themes fyi
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you know what makes me mad . how i grew up on YA protagonist 12 year olds who were skinny and starved and how no matter what i did, i couldnt make myself fit into that ideal. i liked eating and i liked food and i never once read a book or saw a movie where the hero agreed. i just think. that maybe i should have had that. that i could have had someone to look up to who didn't lose their baby fat as a rite of passage to adulthood. who liked to eat and didn't have an insane hashtag perfect metabolism to 'make up for it.' it took me almost 2 decades of my life 2 learn that you don't have to make up for eating. you don't have to be thin. all you have to do is let yourself be. eat. drink. and that mary oliver quote about the soft animal of your body. you belong in your life and in your body and you do not have to hero's journey your way out of it.
#amen#this is my thesis forever and ever#i remember reading all those books like is this...supposed 2 be relatable ???? huh#anyway yeah i have a lot of thoughts on this#ya books#fatphobia#bookblr
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Daminette December 2022: 23-Swim
There was a heatwave in Paris. It was so hot that they felt like they were in a giant frying pan. The class thought the best thing to do would be to go to the pool. They already figured it would be packed with kids and parents. They didn't expect to see a paper on the aquatic center that said it was closed due to a reservation.
"They can't be closed!" Whined Alix.
"It's so hot." Nino sighed.
"I'm sure we can still get in." Lila declared, "It's probably a kid's birthday party or something. I'm sure we can convince them to let us hover in the deep end."
'Kim mentioned he was a lifeguard in training. All I have to mention is he's a lifeguard to the parents and they'll let us in. Free babysitting for Kim and we can swim.'
Lila had convinced the rest of the class that they could help with swimming lessons or even keep them an eye on the children. It would be simple and boring, but they would be cool and wet.
As they forced their way inside and walked into the pool area, they saw there was no party. The only person they saw was Marinette climbing out of the pool in a pink bikini with her hair down. None of them had known that the clumsy girl they knew was athletically built.
Before they could utter a word, a voice cried out, "Why are you here? Can you not read?"
A muscular guy with olive skin stepped into view. The girl stared in awe, while even Kim felt unworthy standing next to him.
'Who is this hottie and why is he with her?'
"Explain." he stated again.
"We-We just wanted to use the pool." Kim declared.
"You can return in two hours." he stated.
"Marinette knows us!" Lila smiled, "It's fine."
"Leave or I will contact the authorities." he demanded.
'What?'
"Dude, you can't hog the pool!" Nino complained.
"I can when I reserved it and bought out the hours." he commented.
'This guy reserved the whole pool?'
"Dami, how was my time?" Marinette questioned, walking up to him.
When Marinette noticed some of the class, she quickly covered herself up.
"Dami, is everything okay?" she asked, half way hiding behind the guy.
"Get my phone, Angel." he demanded, "I'll be pulling my services from this establishment."
"There's no need to do that." Rose spoke up.
"Yeah, Marinette, tell him you know us." Alya smiled.
"I do." Mari declared.
"See!" Alix shouted.
"And?" Marinette answered.
The class fell silent by Marinette's decleration and sudden change in attitude. Even Lila was shocked by her new hostility.
"I can't believe your acting like this with your friends!" the journalist snarled
Marinette scoffed, "All of you have told me several times that we are not friends. I don't see you as friends. The only reason we came here, instead of the hotel pool was because it's being cleaned."
"We can share the time." Nino tried to offer.
"Leave." Damian demanded.
"What?" Rose questioned.
"You're kicking us out?" Kim asked, surprised.
Marinette handed Damian his phone in plain view. The class looked from Marinette to the guy with her.
Mari smiled, "Damian is very honest so I'd listen to him. He means everything he says."
The class quickly gathered up thei belongings, they had thrown on the floor, and glared at her.
"You've changed." Alya declared.
"I know." she answered, "I prefer myself this way. You can thank Lila for being such a bitch and a liar to me. You showed me these assholes aren't my friends."
Damian pulled Marinette close to his side and smirked, "We'll do another ten laps. Then, have your last break before another ten. Once we're done, we'll head back to the hotel and get ready for our dinner date."
Marinette placed a kiss on his cheek and walked back towards the other end of the pool.
"I'd leave now." Damian snarled, "You are unwanted here."
The class quickly rushed out of the aquatic center.
"Was that really Marinette's boyfriend?" Nino wondered.
"He seems super scary." Rose declared, "Luka was much sweeter."
"Who cares?" Alya shouted.
"I can't believe she said we weren't friends!" Lila sniffled, "She said so many mean things about me, too."
"But she was right, too." Rose admitted, shocking Lila, "We said we weren't her friends, first."
"We didn't mean it, though." Kim cried out.
"I think, she thinks, we actually meant it." Alix answered.
Everyone looked around at each other and frowned.
"We just wanted her to be nice to Lila!" Alya insisted, "We never meant for her to take it to heart!"
'They were still friends with her?'
"She still could have shared the pool." Lila whined, "It's so hot."
"I looked it up." Nino sighed, "The hotel pool is closed all week."
"I'm still shocked she was doing laps." Kim commented, "She isn't on the swim team, but she definitely has the body of a swimmer."
Alix scoffed, "Who cares about her body; did you see those muscles? I wanna know how much she lifts! She might be a bigger muscle head than you, Monkey Brains."
"Well, did you see who she was with?" Nino shouted, "He was ripped! He had like ten pack! Kim is a jock and Adrien is a model. He looked better than both of them combined!"
Rose giggled, "She moved on from a model and rock star to a God."
"A scary 'God'." Lila frowned, "I can't believe he was going to call the cops on us."
Everyone frowned and looekd around.
"Ice cream?" Kim questioned.
"Sure." Alix responded, dropping the subject entirely.
Everyone followed Kim, dropping the fact that Marinette was no longer their friend, she had a boyfriend and that the pool was no longer an option. Lila followed slowly behind them, wondering how everything came to a halt.
TAG LIST: @maribat-calendar-events @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @meme991001 @vixen-uchiha @abrx2002 @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @animegirlweeb @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus
#daminette december 2022#daminette december#class salt#lila salt#lila rossi#heatwave#hot in paris#marinette dupain cheng#damian wayne#pool#swimwear#swim laps#damian x marinette#daminette#marinette x damian#marinette deserves better#mochinek0
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Okay, so the other night I fell down a rabbit hole of sorts. I found some post cards that Vincent had written to his daughter and his (ex) wife Mary. I just think they're so sweet. So I'm sharing them here. These do NOT belong to me. So I do NOT take credit. I just think they're awesome. I'll also do my best to translate in case anyone has any problem reading his writing.
This is a postcard he send to his daughter, Victoria in 1965. Look at the hearts he drew at the top!!!! Whyyyy is this so damn precious?! Moving on... It reads:
Dearest Toria - I love my Easter present - your pictures are beautiful but they make me homesick to see you. It won't be long now and we will have lots of fun when we are together again - I'll make you popovers and meat sticks in the fire and will plant a tree on your birthday and have a big cake! My movie is finally going pretty well but I wish I was doing it at home. Thanks Myrna for the letter. All my love, Daddy
This post card was sent to his ex-wife Mary in the mid 70s. By this time, he was married to Coral Browne, but remained close friends with Mary. According to their daughter, there was an inside joke to this postcard (which I never understood - but maybe it's not for me to understand :) ) it reads:
Of course I never saw it - who has? The trip to Hong Kong was endless and I've been working my tail off doing publicity, etc. But still find Hong Kong fascinating even tho it's twice as big and as crowded as before - I overlook the bay to the peninsula now nestled unhappily in a forest of skyscrapers but I hear still good. All my love, Vincent *SIGH*
This post card was sent to his daughter, Victoria and his ex wife Mary Price in February of 1975. Again, he was married to Coral Browne but remained close friends with his ex wife Mary. His daughter once said, "I was lucky that my parents remained friends after the divorce. They wanted what's best for each other and for me, which wasn't always easy because of my stepmother." Which, I could understand her stepmother's point of view, there. But still, it's insanely sweet that they remained good friends.
It reads: Dearest Tor. This is one of the fun things in the great modern museum here in Buffalo. The tour goes well but the weathers terrible. I was 8 hours late getting here but didn't miss the lecture. Love to you both, Dad.
This letter was sent to his daughter, Victoria in 1976. It reads: Dearest Torsie. On my way to Ohio to rehearse Oliver - had a nice talk with your mama who says you're having a ball - I'd love to hear from you and so am sending a couple of cards to write on- do send them in the next week or so as I'll be here until the 20th - but so will you! All love to you! Dad.
This post card was sent to his ex wife, Mary and his daughter Victoria in 1979. It reads:
Dearest M + V (Mary and Victoria) Well it slipped into town and seems to be doing very well though it's very strange management but quite legitimate - a lovely theater and set and nice people but NY audiences are not as vociferous as Denver, etc. still it's nice to be here and I love living in Gramercy park. I walk to work but taxi home. I've decided to do only a few head one nighters as it's too difficult to check everything and play it too. Still love doing it however - All Love Dad
#vincent price#postcard#postcards#celebrity#old hollywood#vintage postcard#vintage#i admire him so much and his relationship with his ex wife and daughter#its refreshing and makes me admire him even more#is that possible?#hmmpf#oh well#hes a doll really#bicon#bisexual#horror#old horror movies#movie#actor#handsome#random#blog#these do NOT belong to me#credit belongs to the owner of these
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Full spread: 6 Oct. Suptober
Not for the first time, reality stabbed Dean right in the chest like a unkillable homicidal maniac would: he fucking loved Cas.
deancas first kiss, s13-ish au 🎃
"All right, let's see what we've got." Dean clapped his hands together and bounced on his feet. The long, new-to-the-cave coffee table was loaded from end to end. "Salsa and chips, yes. Sour cream and black olives?" He searched around. "Check." They were in a divided bowl shaped like a bat. "Pickle spears, yes, potato chips, yes, pirate booty, yes." He scooted two plates closer together; side by side, they looked like pumpkin spouses. "Little naans and hummus, check. Did I forget the spinach dip?"
Cas unwrapped a bowl that had been covered with foil. "It's here." He brought up a basket of brown cubes from under the table. "Along with this fake pumpernickel."
Dean helped him make room for both. "Don't let Sam's snobbery rub off on you."
"I do not care about the authenticity of this bread," Cas said solemnly. "It was on sale, though."
"Nice." Dean approved of grocery clearance racks in a big way. "What else?"
From a bag on the saggy couch Cas took out an orange tray of dark purple cupcakes dusted with black glitter. "I don't know what this icing is supposed to signify."
"It just looks spooky," Dean said, excited at the prospect of freshly baked sugar.
Cas squinted at the cupcakes and at him, but found one last spot on the table for the dessert.
"A full spread." Dean clapped his hands again. "This looks amazing."
"Oh," Cas said, going back to the bag. "I hope it's okay. I also bought plates and napkins. They seemed seasonally appropriate."
"Dude," Dean said, "these are awesome."
He hadn't even thought about plates and napkins. They already owned reusable plates and paper towels, and he was used to making do. He sat on the couch and beheld the glory of the bounty: the napkins were covered in a cackling skull print; in the center of each plate was a fanged mouth dripping cherry-red blood. He fucking loved Halloween.
He looked up at Cas and Cas's halfway worried expression, like he expected to be reprimanded for spending an extra ten bucks outta the bunker budget. Not for the first time, reality stabbed Dean right in the chest like a unkillable homicidal maniac would: he fucking loved Cas.
"They're perfect, honest," Dean said, because saying that other thing out loud was just… No. "Thanks for picking them up."
He reveled in the relief that flooded Cas's face and they spent a long breath gazing at each other, Dean's heart ticking like a murderer's metronome – and then someone knocked on the door frame and Dean nearly fell off the couch.
"Hello, Jody," Cas said, sounding forcibly welcoming.
Suddenly the cave was full of people. Sam and Donna came in with clanking six-packs of Oktoberfest lager. Jody hefted in a crock-pot of chili so strongly scented Dean just knew it was gonna burn the hair out of his nostrils. She sat the appliance on the edge of the bar, and plugged it in under the neon Chevy sign draped with cobwebs. As if from nothingness, bowls and utensils materialized.
Jack staggered through the door with an enormous bucket of candy and a duffle on his shoulder that appeared to be filled with a toddler-sized bag of popcorn. "Mary said she'd teach me how to make kettle corn," he explained.
"I think you make that with unpopped popcorn, kid," Jody said, helping him divest of the foodstuffs.
"Maybe she remembers how to make popcorn balls," Dean said, having only the faintest memory of those from his third October.
"I do," Mary said. She'd appeared with a tray of sandwiches. "We'll work on it at intermission, if you want, Jack." Once the sandwiches were on the bar, she gave Dean a quick hug and moved on to hug Sam. "Thanks for throwing this gathering, by the way."
"Sure." Dean tamped down any bittersweetness about Mary not living at the bunker with them and chose to be content that she'd accepted the invite. He saw Cas standing way over on the other side of the room – so, as many as ten feet away – and went to be nearer.
In that corner they beheld the crowd chatting and vying to fill plates and finding spots on the couch and in the matching recliners. Sam pushed the tv as far against one wall as possible and the foosball as far back against the other. It would be a tight squeeze for everyone to have a good view of the movie (Dean's choice: Quicksand III: Terror at Pleasant River) but no-one seemed bothered about it. The snacks were already a hit.
"Aren't you going to eat something?" Cas asked.
"In a sec." Dean leaned back into the corner and was happy when Cas joined him. "Do you mind sitting on the floor?" He crooked a smile at him. "I'll be down there too."
Cas shook his head, his eyes dropping to Dean's mouth in a way that made Dean's stomach flutter. "I don't mind."
Dean's willpower, his shame and pride rolled into one stupid ball, vanished at that exact moment; he kissed Cas soft and quick and Cas, without hesitating, returned the favor. They kept the corner from collapsing and stared at each other in sweet, quiet shock.
"We all gettin' a smooch or is it just you guys?" Jody called out. She bit into a cupcake and chewed pointedly.
Now all attention was on Dean and Cas. Jack and Mary had stopped mid-chew to watch. Sam's eyebrows were all the way atop his head. Donna was grinning like a jack o'lantern. Jody kept eating her cupcake with an expectant air.
"Show's over," Dean told everyone sternly. But he softened the effect by threading his fingers through Cas's.
"Happy Halloween," Cas said, just loudly enough for Dean to hear, and yeah, Dean thought, it really was.
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Oc Intro Page
Bianca Maria “B” Hernandez: Born June 30th, 1918, Havana, Cuba, 5’6, she’s insane and willing to fight anyone with no issue, she and her mother immigrated to Washington Heights, New York, in 1923 when she was 5, joined the airborne as a sense of duty and a way to get away from her mother and out of spite towards her mother, rank is Staff Sergeant
Zipporah Josephine “Zippo” Fieldman: Born November 23rd, 1914, Saratov, Russia, 5’7, she will brawl anyone and then go to Shabbos right after, she and her family immigrated to San Francisco, California, in 1916 when she was 2, joined the airborne because she’s always been the oldest sibling and is the only sibling that could go to war, she felt like she had to go as a sense of duty towards her family, rank is Technician 5th Grade (sniper)
Olive-Marie “Ollie” LeBeau: Born April 16th, 1921, New Orleans, Louisiana, 5’4, is usually very calm and collective, can act a little chaotic at times but most of the time is very chill, unless you get her around B and Zippo then she’ll join them in their bs, she will fight a person if need be or drunk enough, technically engaged but she hates her fiance with a passion and was forced to become engaged to him just so her family would let her go into the military, joined the airborne because she wanted to help people and do something with her life, rank is Technician 3rd Grade (nurse/medic)
Marselle Anita Rosaliano: Born April 16th, 1922, Alpine, New Jersey, 5’6, very bubbly and energetic, like a puppy, oblivious to certain things like flirting, and takes a minute to understand dirty jokes, will fight only if necessary or drunk, will be very blunt and tell you off if you really piss her off, she has connections to the mob since her dad runs one, but we don’t talk about that, joined the airborne because she wanted to help people, rank is Private First Class (nurse/medic)
Elizabeth Annabelle “Eliza” Thomlin: Born October 30th, 1923, Asheville, North Carolina, absolutely batshit insane, would probably kill a man with no issues, has severe mommy and daddy issues, hates religion with a burning passion, isn’t afraid of anyone, including Speirs, joined the airborne because she just needed to get away from her normal life and just do something with it, she saw that escape in the airborne, she’s willing to take the risk of death, rank is Corporal (nurse/medic)
Torrance Georgia “Torrie” Stylinski: Born March 27th, 1921, London, England, is a comedian on George’s level, will fight if drunk for shits and giggles, lived in England till she was 10, then moved to Ireland with her mother after her parents divorced, lived there till she was 15 and then basically her whole family on her moms side moved to America after her grandpa died, she’s a mixed albino woman, who currently lives in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, joined the airborne because she wanted to fight, and to get away from her mother, rank is 2nd Lieutenant
Mary Elise McCullen: Born November 15th, 1921, Castle Rock, Washington, has so many issues, like girl is so depressed but she’s vibing and laughing her ass off with Malarkey, Skip and Penk, will fight someone sober for funsies, her dad passed in a motorcycle accident when she was 12, so when she heard about Don and More’s run in with the truck she was PISSED, doesn’t have a great relationship with her mom, but she deals with it, joined the airborne because she wanted to, she saw her chance and took it, rank is Sergeant (mortar squad)
Allison Katherine “Allie” Harten: Born February 12th, 1917, Mountain View, Arkansas, is basically the mother of this group of idiots, is completely and absolutely done with everyone’s bs, both men and women, will call someone out and berate them in front of anyone without care, she doesn’t fight unless absolutely necessary, and doesn’t as drunk as everyone else, somebody's gotta be responsible here, joined the military when she was 18 in 1935, and once they introduced the airborne she joined that immediately, same reason as Lip she wanted to be the best so you gotta be with the best, she joined the military because her father and grandfather were both army men, and she has no brothers, so she decided to do join, it was also to piss her mom off, rank is 1st Lieutenant (intelligence officer)
Julia Ariana Josefina Vasquez-Rodriguez: Born, July 22nd, 1923, The Bronx, New York, the mini B, is treated like everyone’s younger sister, simply because she knew Joe Toye before the war, will fight someone if pissed off, not very hard to do, or drunk, will fight dirty (@blueberry-ovaries, i think you’re gonna love her), the youngest of her full-blooded siblings, moved to Philadelphia when she was 17 because she wanted to and for work, became friends with Joe Toye caused they lived in the same apartment building (yes this is setting up for a fic in the future, hush), joined the airborne because she wanted to, she was in training with the other replacements such as, Heffron, Hashey and Garcia, so she came in right before Market Garden, rank is Private First Class
(Also these girls got some ships to go with them, so i wanna see if y'all, my BoB moots, can guess which guys they go with, a few of them are kinda obvious but still wanna see what y'all think)
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18th August 1773 saw Samuel Johnson and James Boswell set out on their three month tour of the Highlands and the Inner Hebrides.
Boswell enticed his famous English friend Samuel Johnson to accompany him on a tour through the highlands and western islands of Scotland.
James Boswell, 9th Laird of Auchinleck was a Scottish biographer, diarist, and lawyer, born in Edinburgh, like many young men he longed to visit the bright lights of London and in 1760 he deserted the family home to live in the English capital for a few months. It was during his second stay in 1762-63 that he met his literary hero and model, the poet, essayist and dictionary maker Dr. Samuel Johnson. In August 1763 Boswell embarked upon a 2½ year Grand Tour of Europe, during which he met many notable men and women, including Voltaire and Rousseau. On returning to Scotland he practised law as an advocate. During this time he made occasional visits London to spend time with Dr Johnson and others of his circle, including Oliver Goldsmith, Sir Joshua Reynolds and Edmund Burke. He was also on familiar terms with David Hume, Adam Smith and other leading figures of the Scottish Enlightenment.
Johnston and Boswell set off less than 30 years after the '45 Uprising, when whisky was still distilled illegally, roads were scarce and travel was by foot, bone-jangling carriage, horseback or over very turbulent seas in a rickety boat.
Their extraordinary journey to the Highlands and the Hebrides during an autumnal season of relentless rain and storms, took Johnson - plump, partially deaf and blind and who had rarely travelled outside of London - on a grand Scottish tour which led to two of the earliest travel books and paved the way for centuries of tourists who would also explore the nation’s wild islands and highland
While for the then 32-year-old Boswell there was a chance to witness Johnson up close for nearly three months, providing a wealth of material for his admired biography, Life of Samuel Johnson. The travel journal was a massive hit and a humorous account of their journey.
Boswell was Scots to his roots and is very defensive about the Scots and Scottishness, while Johnson has this very English take on it all. These two things fuel the humour, Johnson is like this English bulldog and Boswell is like a Scottish terrier. Together they are a hoot! Add to that the facts that as you would expect from a Scotsman, Boswell was a heavy drinker and Johnson was teetotal, which leads to all kinds of escapades. It’s like 18th century Laurel and Hardy.
Boswell, quoted their first conversation in the biography, Life of Samuel Johnson, saying: “Mr Johnson, I do indeed come from Scotland, but I cannot help it”. To which Johnson replied: “That, Sir, I find, is what a great many of your countrymen cannot help.”
It set the scene for a friendship driven by verbal sparring, with Johnson’s deprecating remarks about Scots robustly foiled by Boswell’s defence of homeland.
Their travels began in mid-August at Boyd’s Inn in Edinburgh, where the cleanliness dismayed Johnson. Boswell wrote: “He asked to have his lemonade made sweeter; upon which the waiter, with his greasy fingers, lifted a lump of sugar, and put it into it. The Doctor, in indignation, threw it out of the window”.
The pair then travelled up the east coast, stopping at St Andrews to indulge their interest in John Knox and Mary, Queen of Scots, Following the coast towards Aberdeenshire, a bit like today’s NC500 tourists plotting their route, they took an anti-clockwise course along the Moray Coast to Inverness and then to the Western Isles.
At times their journey resembled a lengthy pub crawl as they noted the quality of the inns and the food.
In Montrose, Johnson noted: “At our inn we did not find a reception such as we thought proportionate to the commercial importance of the place; but Mr Boswell desired me to observe the innkeeper was an Englishman, and I then defended him as well as I could.” Dundee, it was noted, was “dirty, despicable”. They even recorded their first taste of Arbroath smokies.
Having travelled through Glen Shiel, the pair arrived at the inn at Glenelg. Often praised today, Boswell and Johnson gave it the equivalent of a one-star TripAdvisor review. Having arrived “wearing and peevish”, they discovered “no meat, no milk, no bread, no eggs, no wine. We did not express much satisfaction.”
The Highland terrain posed even greater stress. Dangerous and often impassable except on foot, they were often in remote spots, miles from inns or shelter or ankle deep in a peat bog. Nevertheless, they trudged on through stormy weather and with Johnson often suffering from colds, increasing deafness and seasickness on the journeys between the islands.
The trip from Coll to Skye was undertaken during a vicious storm, with Boswell fretting over whether the boat might sink or explode, and troubled that he couldn’t understand the sailors’ Gaelic! Johnson was no great fan of the language, describing it as “the rude speech of a barbarous people, who had few thoughts to express, and were content, as they conceived grossly, to be grossly understood”.
But in Skye, they were delighted to meet Flora MacDonald, and slept in the same room that Bonnie Prince Charlie had slept in. “Both were over the moon because they were besotted with the story,” he wrote.
Don’t judge Johnson on his dislike of the Gaelic language though, the pair told of finding the Highlands still occupied by military garrisons, cleared by immigration and spoke of the suppression of Highland culture and oppression of the clans.
The isle of Raasay turned out to be a favourite spot, where the pair enjoyed the clan chief’s hospitality and a raucous ceilidh, with Boswell dancing a jig on the flat summit of Dun Caan. Both felt that in Raasay they had come close to authentic old Gaelic culture and way of life.
By October 1773 they were in the Saracen Head Inn in Glasgow’s Gallowgate, revelling in a roaring coal fire and conversation with professors from Glasgow University.
The trip would come to a sorry end, however, at Boswell’s family’s Ayrshire home at Johnson and Boswell’s father had an enormous row; they were total opposites in religious and political beliefs,
Johnson was a kind of father figure to Boswell. He knew Boswell could be a bit out of hand, but he also knew he was a real literary talent.”
Johnson’s A Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland, was published in 1775, followed a exactly decade later by Boswell’s The Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides with Samuel Johnson. Both wrote their own versions of their tour differently. They go to the same places but see things differently.
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mari where is the essay about annabeth not being cursed where is the essay
she’s an interesting one alright. so actually annabeth is the savior. i mean. u think abt it and she rly is. she’s elpis in pandora’s jar she’s the anchor she’s the olive branch she’s the daughter of wisdom!!! leo and piper and jason all go on a quest to free hera and coincidentally jason is the lost hero, but so is piper and leo bc they were old enough to have been claimed years before but they weren’t. they’re just as misplaced as jason and blah blah blah they find their purpose and their true selves thru tlh. then there’s percy (in this version he’s keeping the curse of achilles) and hazel and frank. three people with curses. one was raised from the death and is haunted by it + she summons cursed jewels that eventually take those she loves away (they die lol), and the other 2 interestingly have their mortality tied to one thing. the difference is that one fears death (frank) bc he feels it so incredibly close and the other (percy) has lost sight of his mortality—which is what makes the curse of achilles a curse rly. and ANNABETH is the only one who can ground him. ANNABETH was the only one who could ground luke as well. in hoo she is now the seven’s only hope. like there’s the group who has an identity crisis 24/7 (is jason roman/greek? does piper want to embrace her mother’s side of herself/does she embrace her father’s heritage? what is leo’s place as a member of the seven?) and the other group is quite literally cursed and in some way it has to do with death and while one half of the seven is on a path of discovery the other half is on a path to freedom of their binds. annabeth stands in the crossfire since the very beginning. she plays the role of the mediator since pjo and she didn’t realize this until tlo—when she broke thru luke’s shield when she convinced percy to give him the knife. annabeth understands perfectly who she is. she knows her place as a leader and she isn’t held back by death. there isn’t anything like that stopping her per se….even if she doesn’t have any flashy powers at her disposal. all she depends on r her wits and intelligence but there’s something else that people forget:
annabeth’s so good at understanding people. she’s very in-tune with her emotions, despite what others say. she has this impact on people, this mark of wisdom that rly makes her stand out, and maybe that’s part of why luke and percy saw her in the river styx. bc she’s so so human and one of the best examples of a moral compass they can see and touch. like all she does is see the good in things and she follows her heart and she understands herself so deeply that she wasn’t even surprised when the sirens revealed to her that her fatal flaw is pride. she’s the true hero of pjo, and arguably of hoo, bc she saved everyone’s asses tbh. i mean without her they wouldn’t have gotten the athena parthenos and without the athena parthenos there was no hope, AT ALL, that gaia would be defeated. same with luke and a single choice shall end his days. some could say that she is “the seventh wheel” but truly what she is is the one who has to rise even higher than the rest of the seven. there’s a reason why she had to look for the mark of athena alone. there’s a reason why the seven would always look to her immediately for help. while percy and jason have an alpha male conflict annabeth is the one who mediates and annabeth is the one who can steer the ship besides leo and annabeth is the one to help frank figure out the chinese handcuffs and annabeth is the one to make hazel and piper feel right at home. and while she can be the seven’s biggest strength, given she doesn’t fit into the two trios of demigods, she can still be their downfall. bc if percy still has the curse and if she holds his life in her hands and if she is his anchor to his mortality and if percy loses sight of that too late and if she carries the actual weight of what they must do to succeed on her shoulders and if she fails….the pillars can all fall apart very very quickly. in a way, they all depend ENTIRELY on her.
#the seven#annabeth chase#she is nobody’s sidekick indeed#idk what this is and i have a 2 day long headache but i couldn’t help thinking of this AHHHHHG#melissa tag#ask tag🤠#mari’s ted talks
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Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last!
What a task
to ask
of anything, or anyone,
yet it is ours,
and not by the century or the year, but by the hours.
One fall day I heard
above me, and above the sting of the wind, a sound
I did not know, and my look shot upward; it was
a flock of snow geese, winging it
faster than the ones we usually see,
and, being the color of snow, catching the sun
so they were, in part at least, golden. I
held my breath
as we do
sometimes
to stop time
when something wonderful
has touched us
as with a match,
which is lit, and bright,
but does not hurt
in the common way,
but delightfully,
as if delight
were the most serious thing
you ever felt.
The geese
flew on,
I have never seen them again.
Maybe I will, someday, somewhere.
Maybe I won't.
It doesn't matter.
What matters
is that, when I saw them,
I saw them
as through the veil, secretly, joyfully, clearly.
Snow Geese by Mary Oliver
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i have been very absent from here... my mother (emotionally estranged mother) (emotionally abusive mother) (addict mother) was in the slow process of dying which finally finished yesterday afternoon.
what keeps running through my head is a visitor by mary oliver. for so much of my life i clung onto my anger because that was how i kept the distance between us...that was how i kept myself safe from her. and yet, as she got sicker and sicker, i found myself feeling safer and safer...and by the time she was dying, it was the safest i'd ever felt with her. i knew she couldn't hurt me anymore and i found that i didn't need the anger anymore, so i let it go: "i knew i was saved, and could bear her."
and what i was left with was the profound grief...realizing that i lost my mother when she got hooked on pills/alcohol 15+ years ago. there was a different mom -- a good mom -- a mom i loved -- but i never got her back, even after she got sober again. instead i lived with someone volatile and confusing, who hurt me deeply and made me feel violated and unsafe.
and yet... i looked through a notebook of hers and saw her relapse this summer and saw her circle the pills she was taking every day and write, "is this a problem?" and i saw her slowly lose her grip on reality and become paranoid and angry and i saw her write "my daughter visited. she is awful." and i didn't even have it in me to be mad. it just made me so, so sad.
i've been looking for peace all my life, and all my life i've been trying to get free from her. in a sick sort of way, she has given me a gift by leaving now. because now i can close the book. this is the closest to closure i've ever gotten in my entire life and i know that for as long as she was alive, i would have been tormenting myself (and tormented by her) over this.
i saw a shooting star the night she died - i hope it was her telling me that she made it to where she was going, and i hope that wherever she is now, she finds more peace there than she did here.
#sorry if this makes no sense...i am having all sorts of wacky emotions#sometimes i feel fine...sometimes i feel devastated...sometimes i feel like a total fraud#it's strange and sad. what can you do<3#i miss all my tumblrinas...i just have not had it in me to tumbl lately#lanieposting
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I DON’T WANT TO BE DEMURE OR RESPECTABLE
by Mary Oliver
From Blue Horses 2014
I don’t want to be demure or respectable.
I was that way, asleep, for years.
That way, you forget too many important things.
How the little stones, even if you can’t hear them, are singing.
How the river can’t wait to get to the ocean and the sky, it’s been there before.
What traveling is that!
It is a joy to imagine such distances.
I could skip sleep for the next hundred years.
There is a fire in the lashes of my eyes.
It doesn’t matter where I am, it could be a small room.
The glimmer of gold Böhme saw on the kitchen pot
was missed by everyone else in the house.
Maybe the fire in my lashes is a reflection of that.
Why do I have so many thoughts, they are driving me crazy.
Why am I always going anywhere, instead of somewhere?
Listen to me or not, it hardly matters.
I’m not trying to be wise, that would be foolish.
I’m just chattering.
#mary oliver#devotions#poetry#blue horses#luna.txt#am rrwding through devotions rn and this poem struck ME in the heart
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Seen in ’23: Annual Roundup
Top new-to-me films of ‘23
(in the order I saw them, not preference)
The Blizzard / Gunnar Hedes saga (1923) [imdb | letterboxd]
The Rafter’s Bride / Koskenlaskijan morsian (1923) [imdb | letterboxd]
Funeral Parade of Roses / 薔薇の葬列 (1969) [letterboxd | imdb]
Dorian Gray in the Mirror of the Yellow Press / Dorian Gray im Spiegel der Boulevardpresse (1984) [letterboxd | imdb]
Drylongso (1998) [letterboxd | imdb]
The Cruz Brothers and Miss Malloy (1980) [letterboxd | imdb]
The Burning Crucible / Le Brasier ardent (1923) [letterboxd | imdb]
Let’s Scare Jessica to Death (1971) [letterboxd | imdb]
Merry-Go-Round (1923) [letterboxd | imdb]
Dream Demon (1988) [letterboxd | imdb]
Mazel Tov / Ost und West (1923) [letterboxd | imdb]
The Signal Tower (1924) [letterboxd | imdb]
The Second Track / Das zweite Gleis (1962) [letterboxd | imdb]
Restless Blood / Levoton Veri (1946) [letterboxd | imdb]
The Man Without Desire (1923) [letterboxd | imdb]
Revolutionary Girl Utena: The Adolescence of Utena / 少女革命ウテナ アドゥレセンス黙示録 (1999) [letterboxd | imdb]
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Honorable mention:
Ritratto di donna velata (1972) [letterboxd | imdb] (because it’s technically a mini-series)
Spirits of the Dead / Histoires extraordinaires (1968) [letterboxd | imdb] (because it would make the year-end list for “Toby Dammit” alone TBH)
So, according to letterboxd, only 33% of the films I watched in 2023 were rewatches. In an unexpected bit of consistency, that’s also my proportion of rewatches for ‘22 and ‘21. Sometimes crunching the numbers teaches you potentially meaningless things about yourself.
On my letterboxd, I put together a list of my top new-to-me films of ’23, in case you want an easier way to check if there’s anything you might want to add to your own watchlists!
READ ON BELOW THE JUMP!
As I continued my tradition of watching films as they turn 100, the 1920s was my most-watched decade as it was in 2022.
I was startled looking at the stats that the 1930s were so underrepresented! To ward that off in 2024, I think I’ll binge some pre-codes. Maybe we should all watch pre-codes in March 2024 to dishonor Will Hays on his birthday?
My top individual years were:
1923
1987
1986
1920
1911
1971 (unexpected!)
1988
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In another bit of unexpected consistency, I seem to have watched roughly 60% American-made films every year for the last 3 years?
Regardless, I think my MVP for this year was Finland. Teuvo Tulio is quickly becoming one of my favorite directors and the silent films from Finland that I watched this year were highlights too!
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My most watched actors for 2023 were:
Alice Howell
James Finlayson
Stan Laurel
Snub Pollard
Katherine Grant
Marie Mosquini
Christopher Lee
Jackie Cooper
Lois Weber
Mabel Normand
Noah Young
Oliver Hardy
Richard Smith
Can you tell that I watched a ton of silent comedy in 2023? Of course Marie and Snub are making a return appearance here from last year, so I suppose I watched plenty of comedy shorts in ‘22 as well.
If you were only to count the feature films that I watched, Christopher Lee, Boris Karloff, Douglas Fairbanks, Vincent Price, and William Haines would top the list!
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My most watched directors were:
Alice Guy
Dave Fleischer
George Jeske
Arthur Rankin Jr. & Jules Bass
Charley Chase
John G. Blystone
Lois Weber
Richard Smith
Maya Deren
Phillips Smalley
Another affirmation that I watched a whole lot of silent shorts, but this time because of the fantastic Pioneers: First Women Filmmakers set. I highly recommend picking up a copy (or checking it out of your local library). Not only is the set well curated, but there are so many great extras to put the films in context.
For Christmas ‘23, I got the Cinema’s First Nasty Women set and I’m very excited to marathon those and be influenced into a year of behaving badly.
Maya Deren makes the list because I re-watched her films in advance of my cosplay/profile of her. If you haven’t dug into Deren’s short but fascinating filmography yet, I highly recommend it!
#roundup#year end roundup#film recommendation#movie recommendations#film blog#film#classic film#classic movies#silent film#silent movies#silent cinema#cinema#filmblr#movies#world cinema#animation
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Museum of Scottish Modern Art, Edinburgh, Scotland
Ahmad: I must say...this piece is pretty exquisite
Hortense: I agree! I've never seen anything like it
Ahmad: I may see if I can get a print out of this...from their shop...it'd look nice in my apartment
Evie: I like it...but I wouldn't decorate my apartment with it
Hortense: I've really enjoyed this though guys...first time I've done something like this
Ahmad: Really? I would've never guessed based off your art knowledge. I think we've seen everything though, so I'll go tell Travis so he can prep everything.
Evie: Cool! Hortense and I will keep looking at some other pieces.
Evie: Do you have something for the Wounded Warriors Gala? You and Oliver are going together I assume?
Hortense: I do, I must admit, it's a bit boring if the Unit Gala I accompanied Oliver to is anything to judge Scottish fashion is like
Evie: Really? I saw the images and I thought it looked amazing! Simple but excellent!
Hortense: Simple..seems to be a word to describe my fashion by some people
Evie: I think there is beauty in simplicity. Oliver likes it!
Hortense: I think Oliver would like anything I wore...even if it was a garbage bag...it's just...someone from home has found a way to irritate me all the way here.
Evie: Well that's a crying shame...but if I were you, I'd show this person up with the military technique of shock and awe.
Hortense [chuckling]: We are talking of military tactics now?
Evie [giggling]: yep! Use fashion to shock her and get her to shut up.
Hortense: You knew my irritant was female?
Evie: Only girls can get other girls to get this irritated [Hortense laughing] And besides, clothes is just wearable art! Use it to express yourself girl! I know for one thing, King Alexander, Queen Marie Christine and Oliver will deal with those...uptight protocol people...heck I will too!
Hortense: Do you think we could make a detour after we drop off Ahmad Evie? I will need your expertise.
@empiredesimparte
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