#I hope it isn’t too clunky what I wrote after a break I always feel like I unlearnt how to write XD | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kingsuckjin · 5 years ago

Note

I understand if you're to busy but I have this idea: playing with Jungkook's dick and balls like a door knocker or something.

Hey thanks for the request anon, I hate it! 😀

I wrote this just for you and lost a little of my soul in the process! Enjoy!

Hunger-jjk

- Pairing: jungkook x reader

- Genre: ftl, crack

- Warnings: fingering (f receiving), blowjob, slightly jealous/slightly dom/possessive kook, biting, scratching, rough sex,unprotected sex, kooks got a biiiiig dick, tattooed kook being an idiot at the end. It’s all kind of cracky tbh and I never want to reread this again but I hope you enjoy!

- Synopsis: You didn’t go into this friend dinner thinking you were going to be doing anything but making lobster… until you accidentally grab his entire crotch.

- Words: 4.8k

——–

“You know when I said just get whatever for our friend dinner I didn’t mean ten pounds of lobster.” You looked at your best friend with your hand on your hip as he unpacked all the lobster, thankfully already dead, onto the kitchen counter.

“I can eat most of it.” He said nonchalantly and honestly you didn’t doubt it. The boy ate as if he were a giant at all times despite his tiny waist. You knew what all that food went though, it went to make all of those dense rippling muscles that you could never stop staring at.

Your eyes ran over his biceps which looked more meaty than all the lobster in the bag combined. His slightly translucent white shirt clung tightly around his muscles, threatening to break free. To make matters worse, he was wearing sweatpants, gray sweatpants, and from the looks of it no underwear. You could vaguely make out the large size and shape of everything that was going on inside of them and man did it look appetizing to you.

You needed to get it together, this man has been your best friend since third grade. Wide eyed, happy, kind and innocent Jungkook. You instantly felt bad. You hadn’t had a friend dinner like this together since university when all you could afford was to combine whatever you had, which was mostly combining Ramen, into a pot in those days.

Jungkook had also just gotten out of a rough relationship and now here you were thirsting after him when this was supposed to make him feel better.

“You’re going to help me cook all of these right?” You asked and watched as he nodded his head like an excited puppy.

“Whatever you need I’ll do it, just say the word. I’m at your service.” He gave you a sweet and pure smile just like the Jungkook you always knew, although his words left a bit of a tickle in your belly.

“Alright then.” You said trying not to look at the tattoos scattered up one of his arms as you walked around him to get into one of the bottom cabinets. “Looks like we’re going to need a big pot to put all of these in.” You commented.

“How big?” He seemed to ask automatically from where he stood behind you. You froze your digging in the cabinet. Was he doing this on purpose or was it just your honey imagination playing tricks on you. “How big of a pot do you need? Do you need help getting it? He reiterated so you brushed it off.

“The biggest one I have and maybe.” You grabbed for the massive metal pot you never used and found it too heavy and clunky to pull out.

“Jungkook-” you reached behind you for his wrist and tugged gently, meaning to drag him down to you but there were two problems. The first problem being, whatever you were grabbing was clothed, and Jungkook wasn’t wearing long sleeves. The second problem was that whatever you were grabbing and tugging lightly at was too soft to be an arm or leg.

The room was silent as you realized and slowly turned around, body part still in hand.

“Oh my God!” You instantly yelled as you released the entirety of his junk from your grasp and stood in panic.

Jungkook looked just as confused but more surprised.

“Oh my God Kook I’m so so sorry!” Your hands shot up to cover your embarrassed face.

It would have been so much different if your hand would’ve accidentally just grazed just junk, or if you would’ve accidentally hit him in them or something but no. No, you full on had a hand full of it all, tugging on it only to release it like a door knocker. You could still feel the shape of everything, he was huge, and somehow that made it even more embarrassing.

“I-uh- just don’t look down.” He stuttered and your stupid body took that as a sign to automatically look down.

“Oh my God you’re hard!” You took a step back as you exclaimed in surprise.

“I told you not to look down!” Jungkook was now too panic stricken as he tried to shield his crotch from your view by grabbing a lobster on the counter and used that to cover himself “and I’m not entirely hard for your information!”

“I didn’t need to know that!” You shouted right back before taking a deep breath. “Okay,” You spoke more calmly now. Just turn around” He immediately did as you asked, too bad his ass was just as hot as the rest of him. “This was awkward, a very weird chain of events and we should never talk about it again.”

“Hm okay but-”

“No, but nothing-” you cut him off only for him to cut you off.

“Why do you seem so flustered though?” He asked with his back still turned to you.

You didn’t expect his question, you didn’t have a good lie or any at all.

“I-I’m not flustered!” You said it too defensively to sound like you meant it.

A now boner free Jungkook turned on his heel to look at you with suspicion. Your face felt more heated under his accusing stare.

“You know it’s not fair, right? He pointed the lobster still in his hand as he spoke.

“What’s not fair? Please put the lobster down Jungkook.” You grimaced at the dead lobster in his hand.

“Fine.” He sighed and set the lobster on the counter with the others and washed his hands, dragging out the wait and confusion for you. “It’s not fair that I don’t get to touch you back.”

Your heart felt like it was now pounding into your throat as you wondered how to say yes without looking desperate as you felt for his touch.

“W-what part of me do you want to touch?” Of course you were nervous, he had the muscles of a god… and now you knew he had the dick of one too.

“Hmmm maybe like a boob or something.” He seemed to think out loud before panicking just a little “I-I won’t though if you don’t want me to or if you feel uncomfortable! I just thought that-”

He stopped talking and started to stare when you took off your t-shirt and let it fall to the kitchen floor.

“You’re really going to let me?” He looked awe stricken from your bra clad chest to your face.

“It’s only fair isn’t it?” You took a deep breath, gathering all of the bravery you could and pulled the straps of your bra down your shoulders and tugged it down your torso to expose your bare breasts to him.

He couldn’t take his eyes off your chest, even as he took a step closer to you. His hand raised to your left breast but froze before he touched it.

“Both?” He questioned looking rather nervous. You simply just give him a nod.

His large, cool hands cupped your breasts and just kind of sat there still for a moment. His eyes flickered up to yours before experimentally letting his thumbs run over your hardening nipple.

You let out a small gasp at the way it felt and the chills you got from his thumbs brushing over your nipples only once.

“Do you want me to stop?” His voice was a whisper as you realized how close your faces now drifted together.

“No.” You whispered back to him and your eyes locked together as your lips and bodies gravitated closer to close the distance. Once your lips touched, a spreading and out of control fire seemed to burst through both of you. The timid nervousness exploded into a hungry lust for each other that you didn’t even really realize existed before.

He now kneaded at your breasts roughly as your hands slipped up his shirt, desperately to feel the muscles of his body under your own hands.

You let out a pant into his mouth as he took a sensitive and already hardened nipple between his thumb and index finger and rolled it between them. Tingles of lustful were shooting through you as your teeth and tongues clashed and gnashed together, fighting to taste and touch more of one another.

The only time the kiss was broken was when he quickly threw off his shirt onto the floor carelessly. That short pause wasn’t nearly enough time for you to catch your breath but it was enough time to catch the way spit from you both and your wild kissing was not only on his lips but around his mouth.

You could hear him panting just for a moment but nearly let out a squeal when he picked you up without warning somehow as if you weighed nothing to him, and set you on the counter before going right back at your mouth with his.

You spread your legs and pulled his body in closer so he stood between them, letting you lead him between them like a lost puppy.

You felt him now hard against your core, urging him to rut into you which he obliged with eager passion.

You couldn’t take too much of the hopeless grinding, you felt like you were being driven insane by the sheer size of him, you wanted to see him fully unclothed, you wanted to *feel* him fucking into you, stretching your pussy open with his chiseled body against yours. You clenched around nothing just thinking about it before your hands moved to tug down his sweatpants, but he stopped you and pulled back.

“Are you sure you want to do this with me?” Is eyes searched yours as he asked the question.

“Yeah of course I do.” You tilted your head wondering why in the world he thought you might not want to.

“Are- are we going to be friends after?”

“Honestly Jungkook…” you took a deep breath to ready yourself for the words that were about to spill from your mouth. You were so afraid of ruining the moment, afraid of getting a bad reaction from him. “I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

His eyes instantly looked hurt as you began to panic from your wrong word choice.

“Did I upset you with all of this?”

“No no! I- I want something more with you.” It spilled from your mouth faster than you could chose the right words to say, once it was out you watched his face turn from hurt to shock.

“But- but I understand that you might not feel the same way and you might just want to stay friends and I know you just got out of a rough relationship and-”

Jungkook’s lips slamming hard into yours stopped you mid ramble. When his lips pulled from yours he gave you one more quick kiss before speaking.

“Shut up I want you, I want you too. I have wanted you for a very very long time. So in front of all these lobsters on the counter beside you, I’d like to ask you to be my girlfriend.”

You couldn’t help the snort of laughter that came out of your mouth.

“Oh you’re laughing at me now, huh?” He did his best to stop a smile so he looked more serious.

“No I just- the lobster-” you continued to laugh.

“Well you’re not taking this very seriously I see.” He looked more straight faced now so you stopped laughing as he leaned into your ear and tucked a few loose strands of hair behind it.

“Maybe I just need to prove myself to you first?” As he whispered in your ear he took your hand and placed it over his sweatpants on his still hard cock just for a second. “I want you, I *have* wanted you and now I’m going to prove it to you, show you how much I wanted this. And after, you tell me what you want to be. Deal?” His breath on your ear had sent goosebumps all over you and stunned you at the harshness and sureness of his voice.

“Deal” You whispered back not because you weren’t already sure of your answer for him, but because you wanted to play along and see where he was going with this.

“Pants off.” He told you while tugging at them.

You did your best to get your jeans off while still sitting on the counter, thankfully you had an extra set of hands to help you.

You now sat there in front of your tattooed best friend on the counter in just your panties which were starting to soak through.

“You know,” he placed his hands on your knees and ran them slowly up to your thighs “I hated it when you dated Taehyung last summer.”

“Why are you bringing that up? We only dated for like a month.” You pointed out “It was nothing serious.”

He leaned on and placed a soft kiss on your neck as his hands lingered on the tops each of your thighs.

You closed your eyes nearly dismissing what you just said with the feeling of his warm bare chest pressed into yours and his lips on your skin.

“Not the way he talked about it. He would always say you were the fuck of his life… and I wanted to kill him for it.” He pressed another slow kiss to your neck “at first I thought it was because you were my best friend and I was protective over you, but the more stories I heard from him about fucking you until you were screaming the more I realized I was jealous… the more I wondered if maybe,” another small kiss on your skin, this time on your collarbone “just maybe I could not only fuck you better, but love and respect you more.” He now slightly leaned down as he placed a kiss at the top of your breasts before looking up at you through strands of his wavy hair. His lips now moved until they hovered over your nipple “Let’s see if I was right in thinking that.”

He took the hardened nub into his mouth. You gripped the edge of the counter and sucked in a breath of pleasure concentrating on his warm mouth and agile tongue swirling and hardening the nipple even more in his mouth. You however couldn’t stop the whimper that left your mouth when he bit at it just a little.

His mouth came off of your chest leaving the spit on your nipple to cool as he looked up at you deviously before rising to stand again.

“He also mentioned before that you liked it a little rough, what a coincidence, I do too. He didn’t though, did he?” He raised a brow as a hand trailed back up your thigh, this time the inside of it.

You didn’t know how to respond, you were in awe at your innocent friend turning at the flip of a switch like this and honestly a little mad at Taehyung for talking about your sex life with your shared friends, but maybe this would make up for that.

Jungkook’s tattooed fingers brushed lightly over you now undeniably soaked panties “He wasn’t enough for you so you dumped him, that’s what he said when he was shit talking you right in front of your best friend. Jokes on him though, because I *am* enough.”

He scooted you closer to the edge of the counter to where you were nearly hanging off, you might’ve fallen if it weren’t for his freehand holding your hip as the other made its way into your panties.

He ran a finger lightly over your uncomfortably wet folds before pulling his fingers from your underwear, looking you in the eyes and bringing inked fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean. You were so entranced by this action that your jaw fell open slightly. He was so unbelievably hot and your pussy was aching with need so badly for his touch again that it was almost unbearable.

As if answering your silent prayer, he began to roughly tug off your panties.

You brought your feet up onto the sides of the counter and sat back until your head rested against the back splash.

He looked like a hungry wolf as he took in the sight of you unabashedly spread out before him.

His thumb now ghosted around your clit, never touching it as two fingers brushed your entrance “You’re already so wet for me. Let’s see if I can’t also make you scream, with only my fingers.” His fingers sank into you and you finally let out a loud moan at how well and fast they curled into just the right spot inside of you.

“Shouldn’t be too hard from that reaction.” Jungkook teased as your legs already began to shake with the stimulation of his thumb moving on your clit combined with the internal curling movements.

“Oh fuck Jungkook.” You whined, a panting mess even before his fingers sped up.

“Louder.” He barked his command as he applied more pressure to the sensitive spot of nerves inside of you.

“Jungkook! Oh fuck!” You repeated as you were thrown into your orgasm. Your legs slammed shut as you writhed on the counter and came around his still working fingers that got you through your high.

You watched as he served with satisfaction and pulled his fingers out of you leaving you feeling too empty.

“Well that wasn’t so hard.” He commented “come here.” He helped you off of the counter, still a soaking wet mess and you hot onto your knees on the floor in front of his cock still standing tall in his sweatpants.

When he finally pulled down his pants and underwear all in one go, you didn’t even see him kick them off due to the fact you were staring at the size and length of his fully hard cock.

You weren’t sure if it was the longest you had ever seen. or if it’s thickness and veins that ran up the beast was just making it appear bigger than it was. You knew one thing though it had nothing on any of your previous lovers.

He watched you carefully as you wrapped a hand around his cock, and began to slowly stroke him while teasing the tip with kisses.

You noticed that when you ran over the underside he would let out a low moan that drove you crazy and finally took him into your mouth. You knew your jaw would be sore at the end of this because of how open your mouth had to be to take him in, but you didn’t care. Right now you only cared about him and the gutter all sounds you were milking from him with your mouth.

Even with the help of your hand you still couldn’t help but gag a few times on him as you attempted to take him deeper and deeper into your throat. His cock was heavy in your mouth, filling. You imagined just what he could do to your still unsatisfied pussy as you squeezed your legs together, inadvertently making more of a mess spread onto your thighs.

He gripped your hair tightly as he seemed so lost in pleasure pleasure you were giving him, no doubt watching his cock disappear and reappear from your mouth.

“You look so fucking pretty with my dick in your mouth.” He tugged harder at the back of your hard before pushing your mouth to take more of his cock. You moaned around him as he used you to fuck himself with.

“I bet your pussy would look even prettier stretched out around me.” His breaths were heating even more ragged and faster and as much as you wanted him to let loose inside of your mouth and feel his cum slide down your throat, he wasn’t going to allow it and you knew it. You knew he was Trying to prove himself to you, maybe even claim you.

He pulled your off of him, lips a swollen spit soaked mess, and pulled you to stand facing against the counter. He pushed your back, chest, and face down onto its cool surface and trailed his hand all the way down your back from behind you.he lifted his hand from your ass only to slam his hand down hard onto the flesh.

You winced but the painful pleasure that shot through you had your ass rutting against his cock.

“Please just fuck me. I’m on the pill just fuck me.” You begged as you felt him rub his tip teasingly at your entrance.

“I’ve never fucked anyone without a condom before… it’s kind of fitting that you’re the first I guess.” He seemed to be getting kind of sentimental behind you. You would’ve probably thought it cute had you not been so absolutely desperate for him.

“Fuck me. Please.” You repeated.

“Hmmm you sure?” You could just hear the cocky smirk on his face.

“Yes!”

He slammed into you hard and you felt the sting of your walls suddenly having to stretch around him.

“Ah!” You let out at the slight pain and suddenness.

“Are you okay? You said-” He was still behind you and now worried.

“I’m fine, I’m good.” You said as he stilled to let you adjust to him now. “You can move.”

He pulled out slightly and trusted back into you sort of pathetically.

“Harder.” Upon your command you felt his fingers once again tangle in the back of your hair and pull.

“I call the shots.” His voice came out as almost a growl before his hips slammed into you with force over and over.

You were left with your mouth hanging open in mind blown pleasure as his cock basically speared into you.

He grabbed onto your shoulders to pull you into him harder and faster leaving you whimpering mess.

“So tight.” He groaned over the slapping of flesh as your walls constricted around him. You tried to lift your head and turn to look at him just to catch a glimpse of his face, just to see him fucking you, but his hand was on your head pressing your cheek to the counter, you had nothing to look at but the lobster.

You closed your eyes and savored the ache of him stuffing himself into you as far as he could go, pushing into your cervix, and you began to feel the beginning of an orgasm once again approaching.

“Jungkook, I’m- so close again.” Your pants were chopping up your words, you were so close you could almost feel it already.

His hips stopped and he pulled out of you.

You went to stand up but nearly toppled over now that the counter wasn’t there to hold you up. He took a hold of you but the sides and helped you sit back up on the edge of the counter.

You were face to face with him now, looking at the dark lustful in his eyes and cock in his hand ready to guide himself back into you. You let your hands hold you up behind you and wrapped your legs around his torso, pulling his body closer as he let his cock slide back inside of you with a long groan.

He leaned in closer to you and made a show of his gorgeous face moaning as he let his eyelids fall closed.

“Mmm you feel so good. Do I feel good? Tell me how good I feel.”

Although his thrusts were slow they were still so hard they threatened to knock the breath out of you so all you could do was whine in response.

He leaned in so you were chest to chest and wrapped his arms around your back so that he bared your weight.

“God on tell me I feel good.” He laid a kiss on your jaw “Tell me you love my cock fucking you open, ruining you.”

Your hands went to his shoulders, you needed something to grab at, to sink your nails into.

“You take my big cock so well, don’t you?”

And with that you came unhinged and your head fell back.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck that feels good.” He chanted as hips smashed into yours wildly now as you came.

You had no idea what you were even saying, you just rambled all the things your horny brain desired as you came.

“Come inside of me, fuck just please come inside of me.”

“Yeah?” He asked and your reply was another wordless whimper “I will, I will just wait.” He assured you.

After you had come down you were completely hosted into the air and walked over to the dining table where he laid you down flat, all without pulling out of you.

“Together.” He stated “I want to cum together.”

You gave him a nod but at this point you were so sore and sensitive, but you still wanted to give him whatever he wanted.

As he began to trust once again the table knocked into the wall it was against, but Jungkook was quick to catch your attention back by biting your lip and pulling.

“You want me to fill you up with my cum?” He whispered as he pounded into you.

“Please. I’m yours, show me I’m yours.” Your hungry cunt clenched around him harder.

“Fuck yes you’re mine now.” He sucked at the skin of your neck and you knew exactly what he was doing, further proving you belonged to his.

“I’m going to come inside of you,“his voice was low and dark and right in your ear “and later I’m going to do it again and fuck that cum even deeper inside of you. Now cum on my cock.”

Your fingers dig into his skin as legs locked around his torso tightly.

“That’s my girl” He panted “So close.” He reached between you and began rubbing circles at your clit making you cum one more time around him.

He let out an open mouth whine as his swear soaked forehead and hair fell against yours. The feeling of his cum pumping into your hole only made your high last longer.

In just seconds though you were both just one heaving pile of tired flesh on your kitchen table.

“So.” He let his forehead against yours, obviously too worn out to move much. “What’s your answer to the whole be my girlfriend thing?”

“It’s a yes, although you didn’t need to prove yourself to me.” You answered.

“I wasn’t trying to prove myself to you. I had to prove myself worthy to them.” He pointed to the lobsters on the counter across the room with a smile erupting on his face as he raised his head to look at you better.

You glanced over at the rows of lobsters seemingly staring at the both of you and started you to laugh at the sight. “You’re so strange sometimes.”

“Me? You’re the one who grabbed onto my crotch and wouldn’t let go.” He teased before giving you a quick kiss on the lips “I think we’re both weird, that’s why we’re going be a good couple.”

You saw movements out of the corner of your eye and looked over to see one of the lobsters not just moving, but slowly making its way to the edge of the counter making you let out a scream.

“They were supposed to be dead!” Jungkook yelled as he pulled out of you.

“Well it’s not fucking dead!” You yelled back as you stood from the table now in a panic. You scampered further away from the creature that had now fallen from the counter and onto the floor.

“How do I kill it?!” Your naked new boyfriend picked up the crawling monster to your horror.

“Put it down put it down it will pinch you or something! Don’t kill it! We can’t kill it!” You continued your worried screams.

“*don’t* kill it?? No look, it can’t pinch, it has bands on its claws. It can’t hurt anyone, see?” He then proceeded to make it dance as you took in the scene of your naked former best friend turned boyfriend making a lobster dance as his cum dripped down your leg.

“Jungkook please just- just put some pants on.” You said with a sigh.

“What do we do with it If we can’t kill it?” He set the creature back onto the floor while he tugged on some pants “pet?” He suggested.

“NO WE ARE NOT KEEPING IT AS A PET.” You wasted no time in putting your foot down.

“We can put the others in the refrigerator and go release this guy back into the ocean.” He made a new suggestion.

“Yeah, okay.” You agreed as you watched the lobster crawl across the floor. “Man, we are weird aren’t we?”

“Yeah but we’ve known that since third grade.” He picked the lobster back up off the floor and seemed to look into its eyes “he’s kind of cute like you.”

“Is it too late to back out of this relationship?” You asked crossing your arms.

“Yes” He pretended to make the lobster speak.

“Good.” You gave your new boyfriend a smile.

2K notes · View notes

apocalypticwafflekitten · 4 years ago

Text

Beautiful

Darth Maul x Reader

A/N: I’ve fallen into the pit. I’m in love with Maul. I was also listening to “Marry the Night” by Lady Gaga, and this just sort of happened. So yeah. I hope y’all enjoy!

Original Imagine/Summary Kinda Thingy: I wrote down a line in my journal, and I thought to myself “Hey, that’s kind of a good line. Let’s use it in a fic.” And then this happened! I also just really want to comfort Maul, so here I am, living vicariously through my fics!

Warnings: This is basically semi-angsty fluff. Maul cries, but it’s okay, he’s got you!

Word Count: 2.3k. Whoops. My hand slipped!

There was nothing quite so comforting as laying under the stars and realizing that, although you may be little, you still mean something to the universe.

But tonight it was hard to see the difference made. There was no beauty in the world tonight. No comfort in the stars.

At least that’s what Maul saw.

You on the other hand, you saw beauty in everything. The world. The stars. The little cracks in the floor tiles that gave the palace character. The things anyone else would miss. You even saw beauty in him.

There was something almost naive about it, and yet you had seen so much. You’d been through hell with him, but somehow you’d managed to see the good in everything. It was baffling, but in a way, it was admirable.

Not that it was hard to admire you. No. You could so much as breathe, and his breath would hitch. Every movement you made was enough for him to go weak at the knees. The soft gleam to your eyes; the gentle tone of your voice; the graceful way you fought your battles. It was all admirable, and he was your greatest admirer.

But it was hard to admire him. A murderer, a criminal. Someone few would hesitate to call a devil. There was a time where he wouldn’t have cared. There were more important things to care about. More important things to throw his time and energy into. But sitting atop a throne all day, especially on the slow days, gives you more time to think. More time to doubt.

He lied awake tonight. Sleepless, and all but restless. His eyes were closed, but his mind was racing.

“How does she love me?”

“I’m unloveable.”

‘I mean come on. I’m a murderer. I’ve killed hundreds of people.”

“What does she see in me?”

“How does she see me?

“How can she bear the sight of me?”

There was only so much of this barrage he could take. It was all too much for his exhausted mind. He forced his eyes to open, to bottleneck the endless train of harsh truths. Or what he believed to be truths.

He sat up, and only then noticed how cold, and light the sheets felt. He looked beside him only to find an empty, cold spot where you should be laying. For a second panic struck him; prompting him to step out of bed. It wasn’t uncommon for you to have trouble sleeping. You both shared that unfortunate plight. And you, on the particularly bad nights, would often wander around the palace and find something to admire. Something to pass the time.

“No wonder she never stays with you.”

His subconscious threw at him as he stood to go look for you. He shook the thought away, leaving the cold room in hopes of finding warmer company with you.

As he passed through the halls, checking every room he came across, he heard the chime of an old grandfather clock from down stairs.

Dong...

Dong.

Three a.m. Hm. Time passes quickly in despair.

He kept walking through the halls, hearing the beginnings of a storm from outside. A faint rain sprinkled the roof more than a hundred feet above him. It would have been calming if he could sleep, or if you were with him.

It wasn’t too long until he found you though. A few hallways later, a grand staircase, and a pair of doors led him straight to you.

Tonight he found you laying on the floor in the throne room. From outside you could hear the growing thunder rumbling like an old god, and the rain pattering the roof, more aggressive now than minutes before.

“Darling? What are doing laying on the floor? And in the throne room no less? I’m sure the floor in our room is just as comfortable.” Maul asked, attempting to amuse the woman before him.

You smiled up at him with bright (Y/E/C) eyes. You were wide awake.

“I’m sure it is, but in here, if you lay on the floor, you can see the whole galaxy. Every star is right there for me to admire.” You turned your attention back to the windows, where rain fell, and clouds hid the stars.

Your responses never ceased to amaze him. You just wanted to see the stars. Such an innocent motive.

“Maybe she’s seen enough of you. The stars would be a good break. At least they’re actually beautiful.”

He had to will the insults to stop. Now wasn’t the time for self-loathing; not around (Y/N).

Maul huffed a small laugh outwardly, and smiled at his beloved.

“Well, I must say, It’s kind of hard to see the stars with all this rain.” Maul noted as he slowly kneeled down to sit beside you, trying not to make too much noise on the marble floor. His legs were clunky nonetheless, and he flinched every time they disturbed the quiet room.

“Yeah, but the rain is still beautiful to watch. It’s calming to listen to.”

There it was. That unending optimism. The hope that was sewn into your every cell. Something he quite envied for himself.

“I guess you’re right.” There was a small pause before you sat up, and looked to Maul, concern clear in your eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

Maul almost seemed taken aback. His eyes widened in surprise.

“How could she tell?”

“Hm? What do you mean?” He mumbled, keeping his attention to the windows. He knew you knew. You always knew, and yet he still tried to pretend that nothing was wrong. It was a stubborn habit by now.

“Your shoulders are slouched, your scowl is deeper than normal, and,” You reached over to turn his face so he would look at you, “You won’t look at me.”

He leaned into your touch. Your skin was so soft and cool against his face, like a calming rain. But you weren’t wrong. He’d been avoiding your gaze since he sat down.

He sighed, contemplating whether or not to give in and explain what had been gnawing at his mind for months.

“I guess you’ve caught me.” Maul looked down, giving a nervous laugh before settling into an embarrassed silence.

You brought his eyes back to you with a gentle coo of his name.

“Maul. What’s wrong?”

The sincerity in your voice rent his heart, and your wide, concerned eyes broke his restraint. He couldn’t keep his worries from you when you looked at him like that.

“Well...I guess...” He sighed, trying to collect his thoughts, “I just wonder how you could love me the way you do,” He couldn’t look at you, but from the corner of his eye, see the confusion growing in your expression, “I mean, look at me. I’m horrifying. I’m not even a whole being.”

He looked to his mechanical legs, and sighed once more.

“But that doesn’t really matter...”

You looked at Maul with despair brimming your eyes.

“But darling, you are whole. Look at you. I see a man before me whose fought his whole life to be where he is right now. You’ve come so far from where you began.” You held his hand as you spoke, noting the way he flinched when you first touched him.

“I know dear, but that’s not what I mean. Take a minute to look at me. Look at my body. You really like what you see? I’m half metal, and the half of me that isn’t, well, that’s not anything to look at either. Truly, dear, I don’t understand what you see in me. I’m hardly worthy of your love.”

You could see tears start to line his eyes as he looked down to your joined hands. You remained silent for a moment, processing what Maul had said, and that every word of it was genuine. The rain was the only thing to break the silence in the empty, echoing throne room.

“Maul,” You began quietly, gathering your thoughts until you knew what you wanted to say.

He looked up at you with wide, expectant eyes, waiting for your response.

“Look, she can’t even find words. You’re just that horrible.”

Your voice silenced the horrid barb.

“If someone offered me every star in the galaxy, I would turn them away because as beautiful as the night sky is, it’s beauty is nothing compared to you. The adoration in my eyes stales at the stars. You are the truest beauty in my eyes. You’re all I ever want to see.”

“Damn.”

Maul stared at you for a while. His eyes were wide and surprised.

“...What?” He whimpered out after a moment, and a wave of heavy, hot tears stung at his eyes.

“Maul, darling, I love the way you look. I love the red of your skin, and the shape of your face. Your tattoos are beautiful, and they tell of your culture. I love to kiss them, and trace them. Your eyes are impossible to look away from. They’re gold, but there’s just the smallest hint of hazel streaking through them. When I look at you, you become my whole world. I never want to look away from you.” You held his face with one of your hands, and he held it there with his own. “Maul, you’re beautiful.”

A beat.

“She thinks I’m beautiful?”

“No one’s ever said that to me before.”

His tears began to fall, and he didn’t try to stop them, but he did try to fight the sobs warring in the back of his throat. It didn’t last long, as they ripped themselves out. His sobs burst from his soul, and his shoulders shook violently.

You scooted closer to him, and held him in your arms.

“It’s okay dear. You’re okay.” You whispered into his ears.

You knew he wouldn’t believe you. He hated his legs, and his face. He hated himself, and it destroyed you. But at least he knew that you found him beautiful, even if he couldn’t see it in himself. You tried so hard to let Maul see himself through your eyes. You admired him. Oh your whole heart ached when you looked at him. He was your sun, and you wanted him to feel as beautiful as he was to you.

He cried into your shoulder, and he held you tighter than he ever had. He didn’t dare let you go in case you were some long, elaborate, horribly beautiful dream. He couldn’t believe you. Yes, he heard you say it. It graced his ears in beautiful chimes, but he just couldn’t get it through his head. You thought he was beautiful.

Sobs echoed through the throne room at 3:30 in the morning. Mandalore glowed under the cloudy sky, but the clouds were beginning to break, and you could see a few stars now.

There was a moment when his sobs broke, and he took a few quick deep breaths. In this moment, you took his face his your hand, and lifted it, so that his eyes met yours. His eyes were red, more red than usual, and despite his dark complection, you could clearly see the trails where his tears had fallen, and followed. He tried to look away from you, but you coaxed him back to you.

“Maul...” You cooed once more before pressing your lips to his. He kissed you back with so much love, and so much strength. He flung his heart into it. You had to know how much he loved you.

You pulled away and looked at his eyes before looking to his lips.

“And these lips. I would never wish to kiss any other lips. You’re beautiful dear, and I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Maul closed his eyes and hugged you tight.

“I love you.” He whispered to you, and he whispered it again and again.

“I love you.”

“I. Love. You.” He hugged even tighter, and you could feel his love wave through the force around you.

They were the only words he could think of. His only thoughts were on his unending love for you. His gratitude for your existence in his life; for everything you’d done for him through all these years. He would do anything for you. Maker, he loved you.

You pulled away from him, and he gave the smallest whimper of displeasure.

You just smiled softly at him, and placed a hand on his chest, pushing ever so slightly so that he would lay on the ground.

You lay with him, your head resting in the curve of his neck, one hand drifting upwards to trace the tattoos on his face and rub his horns.

He gave a pleased purr, and rubbed your back as you two looked back out the window.

“And look, there are all the stars, shining now that the rain is gone.” You pointed up at the glimmering stars above.

He was silent for a moment, remembering what you had said just minutes before. It all meant so much to him. How could someone give all of that up for someone like him? All of those stars and planets? That beautiful view? The power that came with it? What advantage was there? What happiness could he give you that the rest of the galaxy didn’t have to offer?

“You’d really give all of that up for me?”

He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but you heard the words mumbled from his chest, and your answer had no uncertainty.

“In a heartbeat.” You answered with a gentle voice.

So, on the cool floor of the Sundari Palace throne room, the two of you lay for the night, and Maul is finally starting to see his meaning to the universe. Well, to his universe at least.

Tags!

@justalittlecloud

#this is a lot longer than I expected #i really like it though #darth maul x reader #darth maul imagine #darth maul #star wars

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painted-crow · 3 years ago

Note

How do you write stuff (like novels) as a Bird secondary? Do you do a detailed outline and plan it all out?

My Rapid-Fire Bird, plotting novels with very loose outlines?

(It's more likely than you think)

Personally? Nope. You can, and it would be a very Birdsec thing to do, but I usually don’t. I have one (1) novel where I did a detailed outline, and it didn't start that way--the outline came into being because I was trying to rework/fix the novel.

The novels I wrote as a teenager? Almost all seat-of-the-pants writing (and it shows). I can work like that for a while before the plot stops making sense, tbh.

In fact, it's often easier to come up with an outline after I've gotten to know the characters and the world a little bit, and this is something I've heard from other writers too. Nobody keeps the first chapter they write of their novel anyway, that almost always gets thrown out wholesale and rewritten.

My one giant outline

The hacker novel I have on the back burner is the only one where I've done what you'd call a detailed outline, but like I said, I didn't start by writing the outline.

I wrote 4 or 5 versions of the first 20Kish words of that book (and some random scenes from other places) by pantsing them, which is inadvisable--it's actually a common beginner trap to just keep rewriting your first act--but I almost couldn't avoid it because I was making these attempts with huge time gaps between them, I kept coming back to the story in between doing other things (university, mostly).

But there was also something in the structure of the novel itself that was keeping me from moving forward.

Finally, I decided I was thoroughly stuck. I merged two major characters, split up the cast (turns out it's incredibly difficult to write an ensemble cast if they're all in the same place for very long), retooled the conflict some, and wrote a 10,000 word outline detailing what happens in each scene and breaking it all up in Scrivener into individual files. This seemed like the only way to have a chance at taming a novel with 9 major characters and about 5 major plot threads, most of which happen simultaneously.

Honestly, *having written* that outline is helpful, but when I once again take it off the back burner and start fiddling with it again, I don't think I'll necessarily follow my scene list. I did actually write a good chunk to the outline, but I ended up half-writing and then cutting a lot of the scenes it called for, because it made more sense for those things to happen offscreen. I also found myself expanding some of the other scenes because they were interesting or going in different directions than I expected.

I don't think I like using long outlines like this, though. It feels a bit like I've already written that book, and honestly the whole thing is a little too complicated for my liking. (Maybe this is part of why I steered into writing middle grade for my two newer projects.)

My usual outlines

The two middle grade novels I'm working on more recently both have outlines, but they're nowhere near as long. There's nothing super fancy about them either; no spreadsheet, character profiles, maps, whatever people do--for either of them.

Their outlines live in my phone's notes app, or in one Scrivener file, and they're just descriptions of the plot, as I'd describe it to someone else. If they happen to fit neatly into some structure I've learned about or whatever, I'll note that, but I don’t structure the plot around those things.

I don't always start with a complete outline, and sometimes the outline I have gets thrown away because it's not working. The first of the two novels actually started with a vague description of what I thought would be the story arc (which turned out to be only enough material for the first act) and then... nothing. I got stuck and set it aside for a while. I do have a better outline for it now, but sometimes this happens--the story won't tell you what it's about until you're partway through writing it, and sometimes you have to be patient, or try a direction and throw it away if it isn't working.

The other novel, unusually for me, actually started with an outline! It came to me in one solid piece at 4am. I got halfway through writing the actual book in February, before burning Birdsec again at the start of March, and it actually stuck to the outline as laid out (so far).

There *is* an inverse correlation between the complexity of a story and its ability to stick to an outline, lol. The more characters and plot threads you have, and the more complex your worldbuilding is, the less likely it is that your outline can pin down all those nodes very well. It's like trying to use a GPS on stacked highways: weird stuff happens.

Tools and software

In case anyone's curious:

I love Scrivener (and wish it worked on Linux) because it's basically like tabbed browsing for text documents. It autosaves reliably, doesn't try to force you to use a specific file structure, and you can even import and open pdfs and stuff in it (useful if you're using ebooks as reference material).

I bought a fancy WorldAnvil subscription when it was on sale, hoping it could replace Scrivener on Linux, and it does not. The interface is confusing (it's got a bunch of instructional videos but I have limited patience), and its "Scrivener-like" text editor is still in beta and quite slow/buggy/clunky.

#sortinghatchats #ravenclaw secondary #writing #asks #paint speaks #paint nerds out #paint's fiction

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stray-tori · 4 years ago

Text

Making peace with TPN S02E04 (anime-only)

Post summary: my problems with the episode, possible explanations for why and how to minimize the problems. also some speculation.

The thoughts are mostly based on the anime in a bubble, aside from the segments where I mention otherwise.

#0 - My mixed feelings about staying anime-only

This is strange, because... I’m not really hype for next week? I want more, but not in the same excited way I did before. Because I simply don’t know what to expect anymore.

I want to stick as an anime-only so I can deliver stand-alone thoughts as this... clunky and stumbling adaptation makes its way towards the finish line (obviously it won’t be done this season but, yeah ---- i mean, hopefully not, who knows what they’ll do at this point).

But another part of me is just... more excited to read the manga to see what it is like and what the differences are, after the anime is done (which was always my plan, but I was never really actively excited about it pff-). And I feel like your anime approach has failed when I’m moreso looking forward to reading the source material eventually. I do hope that with ep5 they’ll get back on track and this feeling will fade. That they have a meaningful plan and reason for why ep4 felt so messy and disjointed - a reason why it had to go this way, because I feel like they just wanted them out of the bunker, but this is not the way imo (more on that in the next segment)

#1 - Leaving the bunker - mix of feeling “rushed” and “waste of time”

I feel like where the anime is going, they kind of wrote themselves into a corner in Episode 4. The story setup was leading them to this place (i.e. the bunker), but they obviously didn’t want them to stay there long.

What is the problem? / The way it was setup, we got about an episode of them being there (too few to have emotional attachment to the place) and then being chased out when things went well. In a way it is both too soon, but since nothing really worth the ~1 episode “fluff” happened there in the end, it feels pointless or as if we just wasted time, just for them to leave in the end.

Imo, the bunker is needed for two things, 1) being the first goal for them to go to, so the story isn’t aimless right away and 2) info dumps. Most of the children’s content can be repurposed during their forest time or doesn’t seem relevant right now.

For the record, I personally think that they got found out makes sense in-universe,

WM said he was found out, it’s not unlikely the farm knows that bunkers exist and might even have a vague idea of where they are

that there are multiple could be assumed by the army guy saying, “That’s how shelters usually are” -- If the world has been like this for 1000 years, what other purpose than human survival in a demon would could shelter even have?

I don’t think the pursuers communicated it back (got lucky, Ray) because if they did, they wouldn’t show up a whole month later.

they could have just observed them, they’ve been on the surface quite a bit.

(though I also agree it should be confirmed how the farm found out)

I’m just questioning the impact it had on me as a viewer (which is little) - the world is rigged against them, they can’t catch a break in a system this powerful chasing them and I think part of the confusion and “wait we’re back at square 1??” (literally) is intentional, to evoke the feeling of something being lost. If possible, I would keep the spirit of this idea (see “it’s a trap” in the next segment)

So what can we do to fix it?

Skipping the bunker / I don’t think we can remove the bunker outright. I suppose they could have had them just go straight for the new location by having the last keyword be another puzzle instead of the phone recording giving it away directly. But that might have too few things happening. That way they also would have gotten more time on their own to be wandering OR Mujika and Sonju might have been with them longer (which would honestly make sense from a meta point, too. I feel like they were a little short-lived.)

Less time in the bunker / if it feels pointless anyway, get it over with quickly

More time in the bunker / stay longer and have them do something else. Maybe they prepped to already go back to GF, time has passed and then they get raided. Problem: why did it take the farm force so long?

To be honest, I’m not sure that would have been much better so I’m personally more inclined to fix it with a very tightly connected problem, which will be the next segment:

#3 - the HELP wall scare was pointless

What’s the problem? / the scare was used in between two segments of “the happy life in the bunker”(TM). The segments are the exact same feeling to me personally, just fluff. The scare changed NOTHING. Nothing that was revealed justifies it existing.

Pre wall scare: WM is an ally, the bunker is for escapees

Post wall scare: WM is an ally, he got discovered, the bunker is for escapees, there were escapees there before (?)

The wall doesn’t even have anything to do with WM. And we didn’t get enough details on the HELP wall, even on its own. Was the book and the “HELP”s from the same person? Why were they going crazy there? What did their siblings die from? It can’t be food, so it must have happened outside. Where they picked up by the Task Force(TM)?

The “don’t give up” is nice, but our crew didn’t need that pep talk I think - i guess with Minerva gone, they lost a hope for allies, but at the same time he gave them coordinates where to get support. If they didn’t get that and now were on their own, I’d get the whole uplifting book more, personally. I guess the tragedy here is that WM is dead? Maybe I’m not emphasizing with the characters enough on this.

. So what can we do to fix it?

Give more details to the wall / i.e. answering the questions posed above. Maybe show more of the diary. Maybe two were left and one killed themselves (they scribbled HELPs and were crazier) and left the other alone, and they decided they’re leaving for the human world. It doesn’t change that the scare doesn’t mean much, but it would at least be a little more personal.

Change the wall / remove the helps, leave the names and the counting. It would be a tragic reveal (instead of a over-dramatic scare) to see that people had died (around) here, making them scared for their own lives (I guess that’s kind of implied to be happening but since it doesn’t linger, I didn’t really notice.)

It’s a trap/they definitely know of the bunker / it’s not “help” but “run” which was a warning someone put there because they figured out the farms knew of the bunker (or they got attacked and one couldn’t leave). It being a trap would make sense because even as it’s now, I’m just assuming they vaguely know of the bunkers’ existence anyway. Then it wouldn’t be “yay bunker life! - scare - yay bunker life! - BOOM” but instead “yay bunker life! - it’s a trap... what do we do?” - you can still have the info dumps & the phone call and then they either realize it’s a trap and just leave (removing the problem of the....... interesting raid scenes), and BOOM (haha) you’re where the anime is now, since the troup got nom’ed anyway and aren’t a threat anymore. The mission would still fail since they’re gone, so Isabella’s plot is in tact too. I think this would also partly solve the bunker problem, because now something actually changed about the setup we know. It’s NOT the safe bunker anymore. It changes a lot about the world too - the farm knows of them so how much more of the WM support net is affected? It makes you think more about the larger scale implications (and ligns up nicely with the “I was discovered” talk from James, therefore making the wall shown at the same time relevant), + the bunker has another reason to be there, to reveal that. Personally, it would change our perception and understanding of the situation, which imo would make up for the lacking investment in the bunker itself. It would also prompt them to leave faster (likely), thus eliminating the “we spent so much time here for nothing” thing. If you really want to you can even have them stay anyway, since it’s the only thing they have and they opt to just leave on the first sign of someone actually being on their back. This requires a better night watch than Don though :D

#4 - The little things

Missed drama - the episode was pretty casual about a lot of things; testing potentially dangerous food (fair because it was a nice segment), their new home being gone (fair because no attachment) and them seeing humans being eaten right in front of them (WHY WASN’T THIS MILKED). It makes it all seem like it’s not a big deal - which I guess in a survival story, it kind of isn’t. But I still feel like there wasn’t really any impactful moment this episode it just kinda went “brrr” and now we’re back to episode 1.

for real, please milk the wild demon eating people / he just kinda goes "nom" and the children are there and run. It feels like the anime itself barely takes it seriously - it's the first time (I think), they see a human get eaten by a demon and I feel like that could have used like a close up shot, and some more disgusted reactions by the children. I get that it's a world where that just happens but I feel like the anime just didn't take or see the change to do something more personal with it. I like it as an element at its core because it makes sense; they shot around, attracting the demon and I also like the irony of being saved by a wild creature. Even if that now chases you.

incompetent soldiers - why do they have guns? they can’t HARM / KILL the quality food, so WHY GUNS? -- People with guns are usually incompetent in anything because they just can’t hit anything, but that at least makes sense here. Still, what was the plan? Sheer intimidation? They’re the farms’ force right? Why don’t they know how to deal with wild demons? Possible answer: to prevent humans with guns knowing how to eliminate their higher ups :D doesn’t change that it makes them look stupid. Bro really got defeated by getting a cup thrown in his face. To be fair this specific one didn’t seem to be the brightest bulb, why the “huh?” when he found Don??? Is this relevant I’M SO CONFUSED.

where’s the character moments? - when they got to the bunker, everyone else kind of got the focus, and the main cast just didn't have any of those character moments anymore that made the previous episodes, especially episode 2, so touching and emotional for me. Don't get me wrong, I love the kind of fluff content with the children a lot but I kind of missed some.... it feels like it's more event driven (#BOOM) than character driven now, and idk how to really attach to that? Especially since with ep4 we didn't even really learn anything new (aside from a name and that he was indeed good and is now dead I guess).

#5 - Why?

Warning: this goes a bit into comparisons (nothing concrete though), and I obviously don’t know more than I picked up from fandom reactions.

My guess is that

“So... I cannot at this point say that we are going to animate the entire story to the very end. We are not at a point where we can say that. Sorry. (Laughs)”

from the MAL interview might be a factor. It seems they wanted to tell their own spin regardless (which I personally respect) but maybe they thought that unless they had a two-cour, it would be hard to keep up the investment the first season set up with what was originally in the manga (I had heard that it would be a weird pacing to do 11 episodes and maybe they wanted to make sure viewer engagement was high).

> “We know that there are viewers who, after they watch the anime, want to continue on and read the manga, and there are viewers who have read the manga first and are now watching the anime.”

(I’m not sure if “after the anime” means after a season or after the the whole adaptation)

Their goal is definitely an “unique” experience. And they seem to at least be aware that some people watch the anime first, so it has to make sense in a bubble.

I can’t say if I would have preferred a slower start into whatever the manga has that caps off at 11 episodes (idk how much rewarding stuff could have fit in there), since they probably fear of not being able to do a complete adaptation too. And I feel like as I’m getting it, they are trying to quickly reintroduce what people cared about in s1 --- in Isabella’s case, maybe a bit too early. there was barely any time to really miss her imo.

But I’m also not sure if whatever they’re aiming for will be rewarding. I hope so, because I don’t want their efforts to go to waste. And I don’t want to come to dislike it.

I can admit faults, ep4 is definitely a lowpoint even without knowing the alternatives. Just that for me, it is annoying little things and not the shocking deviations from the manga.

#6 - Hope

I have hope though because Isabella’s stuff was good, and now that they’re over the no-return divergence point, they might be able to... (meta spoiler) not repurpose manga scenes without any buildup (is what I’m getting) anymore :”D, because they really only set themselves up for disappointed with that. It might seem like a homage but it’s moreso out of place, the people who read it aren’t happy because you didn’t earn it (and of course they’ll compare) and the anime suffers from it because it can create unnecessary confusion forced in just to make a reference.

Ironically I think they’re too stuck in the manga too and could have benefited from a blind perspective.

I don’t really mind anything overall I think (world is against them, that’s fair, being out on the run again is fine, the demon “rescue” is fine), the execution / some details of episode 4 were just... strange. idk where they are going with it and maybe that really was the best way to transition but until I know where it goes, I can’t really judge that. Highly doubt it though.

I really hope they completely just do their own things now with some base elements from the manga.

A lot of what I talked about in this post ended up making me appreciate the crumbs of intention. The realization that previous escapees didn’t make it (not all of them, anyway) and WM being dead, and then having that uplifting message. The message of “you don’t get to rest, you’re on your own again”. The irony of the wild demon being their (temporary) rescue. The past escapees.

Ironically, I wanted to dunk on the anime but really, all I feel is more content now. Would I have preferred some fixes? Yes, but I see some semblance of meaning in it even with the errors.

Thanks for reading this goddamn essay.

#tpn #tpn s2 #tpn anime #tpn s2e04 #the promised neverland season 2 #tori talks #tori has opinions #long post

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savvyblunders · 4 years ago

Text

Personal Post: Imposter Syndrome, Reading Traditional Books, and thoughts about my own writing

{Just rambles regarding books, fanfiction and some of my thoughts therein.}

It’s been a terribly long time since I read any published books--aside from those written by fellow fanfiction authors. It has reached the point that I find them entirely too cringey. The plots are tame, the characters stiff, the language rote. I especially have a hard time caring if there is a supposed ‘romance’ involved. Forget about het romances, they’re so formulaic that they leave me cold. It isn’t that I have no interest in the portrayal of a relationship between a woman and man, it’s that by and large they might as well have been churned off of a factory production line.

Part of my objection is to the tired old tropes and gender roles which authors (and readers) don’t seem to realize they’re not only falling prey to, but encouraging with their work. The world doesn’t have to be turned on its head to be interesting, but you shouldn’t know from the first few scenes between characters how it will play out--and further more, not care.

I did read a rather good psychological mystery a few days ago, however. I think perhaps it was successful in part because it was so different from the usual run of stories that people publish, but also because there wasn’t a romance shoe-horned into the storyline. The narrator wasn’t particularly sympathetic, but nor were they entirely unredeemed. I don’t want to give too much away, but it explored the themes of bullying, memory, redemption and revenge, with an enjoyable twist that I didn’t see coming--I was successfully led astray by red herrings, which isn’t always the case when I’m reading mysteries. The book, should anyone be interested, was Girl Gone Mad by Avery Bishop.

{I keep on rambling after the break ;)}

I also read another which was such a stinker I deleted it from my Kindle history and couldn’t tell you the title or author. This beauty had a somewhat interesting premise of a woman who wakes from a six month coma with full amnesia and throughout the book has to struggle with not remembering anything and depending on her husband, children and neighbors for the details of her life. Frustratingly, she finds parts of her personality and tastes have changed--at least as far as they all tell her. She begins to doubt that she is who they say--an issue further compounded when certain facets of her life pre-coma are revealed. Then when the ending arrives, there is a twist and a reveal which could have been pretty neat, only it arrived at the end of such a rote story, with such clunky storytelling and unimaginative language that I kind of didn’t care. It was clear, I might add, that the female protagonist was written by a man. Although blessedly he didn’t go into raptures over her perky breasts, long hair, or other physical attributes [insert vomiting]

My reading resulted in a two-fold feeling. One, traditionally published books are by and large crap. A few months ago I tried reading a book from a famous author whom I used to be quite a fan of. It was part of a series with which I used to be enamored. I settled in, expecting a very enjoyable read. After slogging through three chapters I gave it up. The writing was generic, the characters shallow and the ‘bad guy’ was so sketchily written as to be bewildering, not mysterious.

That book left me frustrated and annoyed. But it also revealed something to me which I had somewhat accepted and understood prior to that, but not entirely absorbed. Just because a book is traditionally published doesn’t mean it’s any good. Just because an author is well known--or even on the best seller list--doesn’t mean they can write. There are more places to find interesting, funny, heartbreaking, sexy, fun, amazingly written, daring and wonderful stories than at a bookstore or through Kindle.

The second part of my two-fold feeling was that while, as a writer, I may have much room to grow, I still have valuable skills to offer. My four years of writing fanfiction have honed my talent, refined my style, and influenced my voice, perspective and ability. A good beta, or editor, is invaluable. While I used to write solo and not show it to anyone, simply edit and post, I’ve come to understand the inherent value of feedback. It can be a tricky road, as you might find yourself influenced too much by a reader into trying to suit their tastes rather than your own, but a good beta (eternal thanks to @paialovespie & @hoomhum)--that is to say, a great beta, will not only see the nuts and bolts which might need tightening, but will offer insights which blow your story from ordinary to inspired. The same goes for a ‘personal cheerleader’ (the highest of praise to @mottlemoth) or someone who reminds you at your dark times that you are capable of far more than you can conceive of in that moment. Forget nasty comments online, most of us are our own worst enemies--after all, we know our weakest spots and can zero in on them mercilessly.

Even without a beta, I believe in myself as a writer enough these days (most days) to hope that one day, with hard work, skill, great editing, and some luck, I too could be published. Not a NYT best seller, perhaps, but then, I’m not entirely certain I’d like that. I don’t say this out of any sort of pretentiousness, but because, in essence, these days, I want to write the kind of things that appeal to a more niche audience. I’d like to point with pride at my small book, nestled there on a bookshelf, or available with one click of a button, as something that helps give a voice to a community which has, and still continues to be, marginalized, ignored, fetishized and pandered to, in equal measure. Perhaps it would be for the best if what I wrote wasn’t palatable to the greater reading public.

Of course, those days when I’m full of zest and confidence don’t always last. Like any creator, I fall prey to Imposter Syndrome. Lord, I can’t believe that a time used to exist when I didn’t know what that was! I knew the feeling (oh, how I did), but had no clue that a term existed to encapsulate it. The concept that I wasn’t alone in having days (weeks, months, years) of being cast into doubt that I had anything worth saying--a voice worth listening to--isn’t a new one, but to find out that I’m not alone was unutterably comforting.

Since, like so many people, I’ve been suffering from a lack of ambition and ability to focus during this global pandemic, I haven’t written much at all, that inner voice rang loud and clear. I’m a fraud, a fake. Any ability I had was used up, clearly as shallow as a mud puddle if a little adversity was enough to dry it out. The struggle to get myself past that was, and is, one that swings from good to bad almost day by day. I had to finally give myself permission to be sad, scared, worried, tired, uninspired. Eventually I decided it was enough that I could find comfort and solace in other’s writing. And oh, how I have! Even though days and days would pass when I couldn’t even muster the interest to read, other times I would consume fanfiction fervently, feverishly.

And there was so much out there! Adventure, sex, romance, comedy, crack, fluff, hurt/comfort. It seems funny that I can rail against the ‘formulaic’ writing of published books and then turn to ‘tags’ and ‘tropes’ for comfort. But I think the difference lies in the heart that is written into those fanfiction stories. Most of us, while being somewhat influenced by friends, mutuals and fans into writing for a hungry public, are, by and large, writing for ourselves. The old tried and true ‘write what you know’ advice seemed empty and meaningless to me for years. If we only ever write what we know, then how do sci-fi, fantasy, adventure, etc., get written? My brain went to the obvious and ignored the heart of the matter--it isn’t so much what you ‘know’ as writing what you need. What makes you passionate. Even if you’ve never been on a space ship, or been part of a polyamorous, platonic communal family group, if you write it with that yearning and spirit in your heart, it will reach out to someone else.

Fanfiction, at it’s core, is self-comfort.

In my estimation, looking at traditionally published books, it seems that what most of them lack is that heart. The writers aren’t writing because they need the story, or because they are compelled to tell it. It isn’t that they had a hell of a good time writing it, or that they made themselves laugh while doing so. They had a publishing deal to fulfil, a publisher to make happy, a reading public who had certain expectations. There’s nothing wrong with that of course, but if it’s your only motivation...then the writing suffers the neglect and a percerptive reader will note the difference.

By and large, the fandom, the ship, even the trope, aren’t what captivates me most. I’m a pretty eclectic reader. I enjoy a good story more than I do the fact that it is a particular pairing. The draw is how well it is written, any chances the author took, the indulgence into style, formatting, etc. that they allowed themselves. So why should published books be any different? I’ve heard (non-fandom) people dismiss fanfiction as niche. Perhaps it is. But it is also broad, vast, uncharted territory where we’re all having a lot of fun and enjoying the hell out of ourselves.

Maybe those published authors need to spend a little time with us.

#personal stuff #savvy ponders #writing #traditional publishing #fanfiction #pandemic #depression #anxiety #self comfort #introspection

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kumeko · 4 years ago

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A/N: I’m having fun writing this. Part 3 of the @marveltrumpshate fic I wrote for @wombatking

Summary: There was something luxurious about waking up at 7:30am, to an empty room, with an empty bathroom, and the kitchen all to herself. Kitty hit the jackpot.

…

There was something luxurious about waking up at 7:30am. Absolutely luxurious. Kitty wanted nothing more than to sprawl over her bed, languidly stretching before she finally rolled off. Unfortunately, her right leg was a dead weight to all of this, so she had to settle for lazily yawning and spreading her arms above her. The birds had been awake for hours, her dormmates equally so, and she had the most glorious sleep. She hadn’t even noticed when Rogue had left for training, her roommate for once not waking her up with her extensive morning prep.

For a girl who claimed that she didn’t care what others thought of her, she spent an awfully long time in front of the mirror. Kitty chuckled at the thought. Rogue was full of strange contradictions and the more she learned, the more she liked. It was strange to think that at one point they’d fought like cats and dogs.

Well, if Kitty were honest, they still fought sometimes now, but they always made up after.

It was harder than she expected, to get off the bed. Her leg felt weird, her movements even more so—her legs didn’t feel in sync, her left far too light and quick, her right too slow and heavy. Walking was a strange hop and dance. Dressing even more so. She half-wished she had Velcro pants, like the ones Spike used for his stupid “my pants ripped off!” joke. The only problem was that they were ugly. On the bright side, she was more than used to putting a little pain in for her fashion.

As she passed by a window, she caught sight of Jean and Amara running through the obstacle course, sweaty and tired. “Glad that’s not me,” she murmured, grinning as she stepped into the for-once-empty bathroom.

She’d been wrong. The best part of her broken leg wasn’t sleeping in, it was the fact that there was no rush. No one knocked on the door, asking her to get out. Kitty didn’t have to bounce impatiently on her feet, waiting for the door to open so she could rush in. Nope, the bathroom was all hers, for however long she wanted.

So was the kitchen, so was the tv—if she’d realized how good it was, she’d have broken her leg ages ago. Maybe in six weeks she could break the other one. Chewing on a piece of toast, she idly flipped through the channels. News, weather, Say Yes to the Dress, Psycho—

“Ready to go?” Scott said, suddenly appearing behind her.

Kitty almost dropped her toast, surprised. Instinctively, she turned off the TV, flushing a bright red. “I, that—” She wasn’t even sure why she was feeling flustered. This was fine! Technically allowed! No one expected otherwise!

Yet it was one thing to relax when no one was around, and another to do it in front of her slightly sweaty housemate. Scott’s hair might be carefully combed, but his skin still had a light sheen to it from all the exercise. Noticing her stare, he cocked his head. “What’s wrong?”

He’d always been a slightly dense brick. Fighting back her embarrassment, Kitty scarfed down her toast and stood up. “N-nothing. Let’s go.”

“Alright then. I pulled my car up front, so just slip in.” Scott picked up her backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “You know, instead of a reality show, you should try watching the news.”

If Kitty could have, she would have stomped to the car.

-x-

“Hey girl!” Kitty got no other warning before a pair of slightly tanned arms wrapped around her neck, hugging her tight. Tabitha pressed her cheek against Kitty’s, her messy hair tickling her neck. As usual, her perfume was as loud as she was. “Heard you got hurt.”

“Tabitha!” Kitty laughed, leaning into her friend. She’d been getting lonely anyways, sitting in the playground as she was. Kurt had gone to get lunch and unfortunately the track team wasn’t practicing, so she couldn’t even stare at them. “Did Amara tell you?”

“Didn’t have to, I have eyes.” Tabitha let go and rested her hands on her hips. “I hear Blue is now two for two for training accidents?”

“It was my fault this time, not his.” Kitty rubbed her neck sheepishly. To be honest, the other time hadn’t been entirely his fault either—Tabitha had a little to do with it. Gesturing at her leg, she explained, “I broke my leg, so now I’ve got that ugly thing.”

“I know training sucks, but I didn’t think you’d go that far to get out.” Tabitha whistled as she saw the cast. “Damn, that’s clunky.”

“I know, right! It’s like I have snowpants or something.” Kitty rapped on the top of her cast. “It’s so thick! I don’t want to know what’ll smell like after all of this heat.”

“You’re lucky it isn’t summer, or you’d be roasting in it.” Tabitha scrunched her nose, her lips curling with disgust. “Broke my arm once, on a job, and not only was I utterly useless after, I reeked like Toad.”

“Seriously?” Kitty didn’t have to ask to know what sort of ‘job’ she was referring to. Wincing, she looked at her cast again. Tabitha had to be exaggerating, right? “It’s not that bad, right? I can’t get it off for six weeks. I don’t want to deal with smell on top of everything.”

“Just spray some perfume on it.” Tabitha winked. She mimed spraying it on. “Works like a charm.”

“Eww.” Kitty glared at the offending cast, her heart sinking. Just how stinky could the thing get? She groaned. “So either I smell like Toad or a flowershop.”

“Hey, the choice is yours.” Tabitha grinned, shrugging. “I bet Logan won’t like either smell.”

“I don’t think Rogue or Kurt will like it either.” Resigning herself to her fate, she hoped they’d still hang around her after six weeks were up.

“Cheer up, it’s not that bad. You get a lot of sympathy goodies.” Tabitha crouched next to the cast, a marker in hand. She started doodling something, just out of Kitty’s sight. “People open doors for you, give you seats, sometimes even food—”

“You shouldn’t eat things strangers give you,” Kitty warned, worried about that last one. Sometimes, she was amazed Tabitha made it to high school. More often, though, she was impressed the school hadn’t burned to the ground multiple times, considering her short temper. “And what’re you drawing?”

“You’ll see!” Tabitha replied cheekily, her brow furrowed as she finished her masterpiece.

Kitty rolled her eyes. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

“I’m pretty good at that, ask anyone.” Tabitha smirked up at her. “How’re the geeks taking this? Bet Logan ain’t happy.”

“They’re like, the only bad part.” Kitty grimaced, remembering Scott’s lectures. And she had to get a ride from him for the next six weeks—her mornings were going to be so ruined. “I swear, Scott and Jean won’t shut up about it, and Logan’s just counting down the days till he can make me suffer again.”

Tabitha stood up now, laughing. “Sounds like ‘em.” Hand on her hip, she gave her a wry look. “Honestly, you should just ditch that whole scene and join me. It might not be the best place to stay, but it’s the funnest.”

There was absolutely no way Kitty was staying in that rundown house the brotherhood claimed was ‘livable’. She’d been there a handful of times, and each time she wasn’t sure how the place hadn’t been torn down. At the very least, it had to be filled with lice or something. “I’m not that desperate.”

“Yet.” Tabitha pocketed her marker and waved before waltzing away. “Lemme know if you change your mind.”

“Not happening!” Kitty laughed, watching as a garbage bin exploded.

-x-

Kitty lay on her bed, examining her cast by her tablelamp light. It was, perhaps, the first time she’d gotten to use that thing without having to cram for a test or something. Today was actually full of firsts—she finished her homework without having to rush, she had dinner on time, and hey, she saw an episode of her favourite drama on time instead of catching a rerun.

Even now, she was lying in her bed, at 11pm, and not bone-tired for once. Across the room, Rogue snored lightly as she slept, too tired from training to complain about the light. The house was utterly silent at that this time and if it weren’t for the lights-out rules, she’d have snuck around to see just how different the house was at night.

For now, she bent over her cast, running her fingers along the different signatures she’d collected. After Tabitha had signed it, the rest of her friends popped in, one after another, all ready to make a mark. The once white cast was now a collage of signatures and messages. Rogue had written her name in purple ink, with nothing else added to it, and Kitty couldn’t figure out if it was because she didn’t have anything she wanted to write, or if it was because she was too embarrassed to put anything.

Feel better soon, Honey, Kurt had written in blue ink, and Kitty smiled as she pressed her fingers on the pink heart he’d drawn beside his name. It was utterly cheesy, but she liked that about Kurt.

There was a picture of a grumpy Logan next to Spike’s name, and Kitty covered her mouth to muffle her laughter. He was a terrible artist, and that only made it funnier. Logan was either a furious hedgehog or he was some new evolution of a bear. Definitely not human, at the very least.

Finally finished with all the easy to read signatures, Kitty leaned forward and strained her neck to see what was on the back of her cast. More importantly, to see what Tabitha had spent so long drawing. Biting her tongue and squinting, she could just make out the picture.

It was a dick.

Of course it was. She flopped back on her bed, and silently swore revenge.

#xmen #kurtty #kitty pryde #kurt wagner #xmen evolution #nightcrawler #shadowcat #fanfic

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sandersstudies · 6 years ago

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Quirky - Chapter 3

A High School Superhero AU - Sanders Sides

(US Boku No Hero Academia AU - Will add tag list in a reblog! If I miss you, please let me know ASAP - Sorry this chapter took literally forever - As always, asks, comments, messages, reblogs, and keysmashes are more than welcome. Writers love feedback, guys!)

Chapter Four ->

<- Chapter Two

Roman drove the tip of his pencil into the corner of his wooden desk, creating a minuscule pit of graphite. Mr. Picani was bubbling off about literature somewhere in the background, but Roman couldn’t focus.

I can’t believe Specs made me look so bad in front of the whole class yesterday. Still twisting his pencil, he glanced to his right, where Logan was shifting his gaze from Picani back to his oilcloth notebook, much heftier than Roman’s wide-ruled pages.

How pretentious.

Logan pushed his glasses up his nose and raised his hand. “When did the Romantic poetry movement transition into Realism?”

“Excellent question, Logan, let’s talk about the influence of later authors...”

What a teacher’s pet, too. Roman’s thought was cut off by the crisp snap of the tip of his pencil breaking off, splintering fragments of graphite and wood like rubble around the edge of the tiny pit. He resisted chucking the pencil and stood up to sharpen it. The clunky roll of the pencil sharpener drowned out the lecture in the background.

He removed the pencil. The tip had broken off inside the machine, and he crammed it back inside to hear the grinding sound again. The machine was probably loud enough to be disruptive.

Big deal. Hope this lasts long enough that the nerd misses half the lecture.

Mr. Picani cleared his throat. Roman glanced up. The teacher had paused, apparently mid-sentence, to watch as Roman stabbed the pencil sharpener repeatedly. The whole class followed his gaze, and Roman thought he heard a snort from the kid who was always wearing too much dark eyeshadow. His grip on his pencil tightened, and he felt a final give and heard a resounding crack as the pencil broke in half.

Several students laughed, and Roman felt his face get hot. He turned around with half the pencil still in his fist and the other half in the machine, and dropped back into his desk.

Mr. Picani continued his lecture from where he’d left off, but Roman couldn’t hear anything except a sound like the ocean in his ears. He glanced to his left and right, and saw Logan continuing to take notes.

Smug bastard probably thinks this is real funny, Roman thought. He wouldn’t say so, though - he likes to act like he’s got no emotions. He’s probably a robot under all those layers of nerdiness.

Remy was just two desks beyond Logan, and was rolling gum between his teeth as he scribbled in his notebook. He hadn’t even glanced up when Picani had stopped class.

Somebody needs to put that guy in his place, too, Roman thought, tapping his half-pencil against his leg. I’m surrounded by a bunch of pretentious and quirkless jerks who all want to upstage me and make me look like crap.

He sunk lower in his desk. If he wasn’t coming out near the top of the class by the first evaluations, what was he going to tell his parents? They’d pulled all their own strings to make sure he’d get in on a recommendation, and after that first day on the field, it had looked like everything would be so easy.

That was the thing: when he had a chance to prove himself, by himself, he could do it—he could show everyone. It was only when other people got involved that he looked like such a fool. If Logan hadn’t totally abandoned him during the bomb exercise, Roman would surely have won easily. As it was, they’d come so close to losing that the match was almost a tie. It didn’t help that it was against Shades—what was his name? Remy—who’d already enjoyed embarrassing him once, and in front of the whole cafeteria and the upperclassmen, no less.

Roman tried to suppress the warmth in his cheeks and ears. Blushing wasn’t the way to start gaining back his reputation. He’d just have to prove himself, and that was only a matter of getting back onto that training field. He breathed deeply and rolled his fingers against the desk. Seeing the sparkles in his skin catch the light was always relaxing, and a little hypnotic.

No problem, no problem, he told himself. It’s only a few days in. Everybody will forget about all this stuff by the end of the semester. I’ll give them new stuff to remember.

The bell rang.

Kai tried to get Roman’s attention from across the room, but Roman only noticed Logan leaning in toward the eyeshadow kid and Terrence, and the three exchanged some comment.

Talking about me, I’m sure, Roman thought. No big deal, they’ll regret it later. It’s too bad Terrence likes those guys, his quirk isn’t bad, and he seems pretty cool.

But that didn’t matter, either. Kenny and Kai, who’d both gone to middle school with Roman, were still on his side. So were plenty of other kids. It was only a matter of keeping it that way.

***

Roman bounced slightly in his seat as Mr. Sanders entered the room. In the end, the other classes didn’t matter, including his embarrassment in literature. This was the Hero course, the real reason any of them were at UA, and if Roman was going to prove himself, it would have to be here.

“No exercises today,” Mr. Sanders said, sliding behind his desk with a grin as a few students watched nervously. “I bet you guys are tired after a couple days in the field. We’ll start today with a bit of housekeeping. You’ve started to get to know your classmates, and it’s time to elect a class representative.”

He held up his hand in anticipation as a few hands shot in the air. “Don’t stress yourselves out,” he said. “Just wait a moment.

“Selecting a class rep should not be about the student who is loudest or strongest or most popular, it should be about who you think is the best leader. It should be somebody who is organized and trustworthy.”

Roman’s chest expanded. Half the class was already on his side after the exercises of the first day of class, and only a few of the other students seemed like they could really compete.

“Students who would like to be eligible may write their names on the board now,” Mr. Sanders said. He held up a piece of chalk and was immediately rushed. Roman barely grabbed the chalk from the teacher’s hand before Terrence did, but as Roman reached the board he discovered that Logan had beaten him there, using a piece of chalk he’d taken from the board shelf.

Roman stewed as Logan wrote his full name in methodical cursive.

He sure takes notes faster than this - clearly taking forever just to spite me.

Roman jostled for Logan’s place as the shorter boy stepped aside. He wrote his own name above Logan’s before handing the chalk off to Dominic.

Not all the students had come to the board. Remy was leaning over to make some comment to the boy in the wheelchair, and the boy with too much eyeshadow was doodling absentmindedly in a notebook.

“All right!” Mr. Sanders said as the final student, Dahlia, wrote her name. “I’m always excited by student enthusiasm. We have…” He glanced at the board. “Six candidates for class representative!”

Roman read the list. His own name and Logan’s were at the top, followed by Dominic, Rafaela, Terrence, and Dahlia.

“We’ll be putting this up to a vote,” Mr. Sanders went on, holding up simple ballots. “The student with the most votes will be class representative, and the student who comes in second will be our deputy representative.”

There was a tap on Roman’s shoulder, and he turned around to see Kenny and Kai showing him a thumbs-up.

“Good luck,” Kenny whispered.

Roman gave a thumbs-up in return and smiled as Mr. Sanders handed out the ballots, and he covered his up halfway as he wrote his own name on the line.

No use pretending, he thought. Can you imagine if I wrote Specs’ name? He snorted to himself and folded the paper in half.

Mr. Sanders collected the papers in a small wicker basket, and tossed them a few times before pulling them out.

“Virgil, would you keep track of numbers on the board, please?” he asked.

Virgil slunk to the front of the room and picked up the chalk, scratching a shaky line each time the teacher counted a ballot. Roman bounced his leg as the numbers went up. He had four, five, six…

“And that’s it!” Mr. Sanders said. “That makes Roman our class president with six votes, and Dahlia our deputy president with five. Congratulations, you two.”

Roman only smiled and nodded, but inside he felt his heart turn over.

A few people still voted for me, even after that mess yesterday. And Specs didn’t even come second. The tally marks on the board showed that Logan was a close third behind Dahlia, but in the end he hadn't won. Being bookish doesn’t make a hero, kid, Roman thought, glancing at Logan and searching for a hint of disappointment. But Logan’s face was unconcerned as he opened up his notebook and picked up his pen.

Probably real torn up inside, I’d imagine, Roman thought. Or maybe not. Sometimes seems like he doesn't feel anything.

***

“Hey, Earth to Roman,” Kai said.

“Hmm?” Roman’s fork had been suspended between his tray and mouth for thirty seconds. “Sorry, just thinking about some stuff.”

“You’re class rep now, man,” Kenny said. “You have to be alert! Attentive!” He karate-chopped the air jokingly.

“Very funny,” Roman said. He turned to Kai. “What were you saying?”

“I asked if you heard about this new villain,” Kai said. “It was all over the news this morning.”

Roman shrugged. He’d woken up late and barely had time to get dressed before rushing out the door.

“A big logo was drawn on the sidewalk in front of city hall today - a black circle with half-circles for eyes.”

“Doesn’t sound like a villain to me,” Kenny said. “Probably just a street artist messing around.”

“Oh come on, right in front of city hall? Sure seems like a threat,” Kai retorted.

“Your dad didn’t mention it, Roman?” Kenny asked. Roman’s friends knew that the one-time Flying Falcon followed hero and villain news religiously.

“Oh, he’s been travelling this week,” Roman said. “Giving a speech at some college or something.” Despite his retirement, the Falcon still received frequent calls for visits, promotions, and sponsorships.

“I mean, considering how many heroes graduate every year, it’s crazy that villains can keep up,” Kenny said.

“Half of them are just one-time petty thieves trying to get on TV without knowing the first thing about actual methods,” Roman groaned. He couldn’t stand wannabes. “Their quirk is kinda cool and suddenly they think they’re the next supervillain of the century. They always get unmasked as some twenty-something who works as a barista or whatever.”

Rafaela slid into the cafeteria bench next to Kai in one fluid movement, courtesy of her elastic limbs.

“No need to show off,” Roman muttered. Rafaela had always been his biggest middle school competition.

“Says Roman,” she retorted. “What are you guys talking about?”

“That logo that appeared last night,” Kai said. “Looks like there’s a new villain in town.”

“Oh yeah, some villain,” she snorted. “What’s he gonna do, spray-paint the heroes into submission? I’m really scared.”

“Exactly what I was sayin,” Roman said. “It’s clearly just a stunt.”

“Well, we could pull a stunt of our own,” Rafaela said, taking a bite of her pasta salad.

“What are you talking about?”

“What, Roman Lightflight gets into hero school and suddenly leaves his deviant ways behind? Becomes a model student? Reforms from his delinquency?”

“Oh, come on, we never did anything all that bad,” Kai protested. “We went to a midnight movie once and didn’t pick up the popcorn we spilled.”

“Exactly,” Rafaela said. “We’re high schoolers now, we have to step up our game.”

“What’s your point?” Kenny asked.

“They haven’t cleaned up that logo yet,” she went on. “You know my mom is a secretary at the hall, and she said it’s going to be taken off tomorrow. They needed to buy a special cleaner, or something, I dunno.”

“And?”

“And there’s spray paint in my garage.”

Roman shifted in his seat. “You don’t think the area will be under surveillance?” he asked. “After this whole ‘new-villain-in-town’ thing?”

“Real heroes and police don’t talk like that,” Rafaela said. “You said yourself, some loser is just doing this for attention, and the media blew it up.”

“I’m in,” Kai said. “It’s like our rite of passage into high school.”

“It’s also sort of like a metaphor,” Kenny pointed out. “We’ve started learning how to wipe out villains, so we remove a symbol of villainy. It’s kind of poetic.”

“Ro-man,” Rafaela crooned. “Are you in?”

“Guys, we have homework,” Roman whispered, leaning across the table. He glanced left and right. The last thing he needed was getting reported to a teacher for this.

“Did running the course with Logan get to your head yesterday?” Rafaela asked, tapping Roman’s skull playfully.

“Okay, fine, whatever,” Roman said, sitting back. He wasn’t fond of Rafaela acting like some kind of group leader. “What exactly are we doing?”

“Leave it to me,” she insisted.

***

“I can’t believe I left this to you,” Roman hissed, wiggling his hips in frustration.

“It’s not my fault your ass is so big,” Rafaela called back. “Doesn’t the window open any further?”

“It’s stuck,” Roman said. “Why couldn’t I just go out the door?”

“Oh sure, real advanced sneaking out technique,” Kai stage-whispered from the ground. “Just waltz out the front door. Are you insane? We’re in high school now.”

“My dad’s not even home, and my mom sleeps like a rock,” Roman insisted. “And it seems awfully convenient for you guys that I’m the only one who lives in a second-floor bedroom.”

“Oh, screw this,” Rafaela muttered. Her arms extended like eery eels under the moonlight and her hands reached out for Roman. “Come on.”

Roman groaned with humiliation as he took her hands. With a forceful flick, she retracted her arms, and Roman somersaulted face-first out the window and fumbled for a grasp on the shingles, skidding to a stop by jamming one foot against the drainpipe.

“Nice! Now jump down so we can get Kenny!” Kai said.

“Sure,” Roman said, keeping his screams internal. He slid onto his stomach and swallowed as he scooted backward and felt air under his feet. “How far am I from the ground?” He’d tried to sound casual, but heard the strain in his voice and tried to clear his throat.

“It’s not that far,” Rafaela said.

“I mean, it’s kinda-” Kai started to say.

Roman dropped. His landing didn’t jolt, but squelched, and he felt himself sink slightly.

“Thought that might be safer,” Kai said as Roman tried to disentangle himself from Kai’s goo.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Roman said, finally scrambling to his feet.

It was only a few blocks to Kenny’s house, but Roman felt like they’d been walking for an hour when he finally said, “One of us needs to hurry up and get a driver’s license so we can stop sneaking out on foot.”

“Oh, come on, you big baby,” Kai said. “Does the class president need a nappy-wappy?”

“It’s after midnight, cut me some slack.”

“Will you two hush?” Rafaela said as Kenny’s house loomed in front of them. Kenny was waiting on the step.

“Did you use the front door?” Roman asked.

“Duh, what else should I have done, climb out the window?”

“Whatever, let’s go.”

Rafaela claimed to know the fastest way to the city hall, and it was useless asking her it slow down; when she got excited, her legs tended to stretch an extra foot in front of her. Kai, the shortest, had to jog every third step to keep up. The only benefit of this was that the fast pace made the trip seem shorter, and it wasn’t long before they were near the center of town. Signs blinked the time lazily, and Roman groaned at the single-digit numbers. The streets were lit, but fairly deserted. It was the middle of the week, and even the pubs and clubs were mostly empty. A gas station and a 24-hour grocery were still bright, but most of the rest of the street was darkened.

“There’s the hall,” Rafaela said. “Let’s go see the logo.”

City hall was dark too, looming slightly in the darkness about a block away. Kai drew a deep breath to Roman’s left.

“You okay?” Roman asked.

“Rafaela is so fast,” he complained, standing with his hands on his knees.

“We’re almost there,” Roman said. “Come on.”

Kai groaned and began speed-walking again, and Roman fell in behind him

Roman felt a buzz on his thigh and fumbled in his pocket for his phone, trying not to slow down. As he glanced down, a passing man bumped into him, and Roman almost dropped the phone.

“Hey!” Roman snapped, turning over his shoulder to glance at the retreating man.

The man looked back. He was wearing a long coat with a hood and high collar, but under the sharp illumination of the streetlamp, Roman thought he recognized a sharp cheekbone and dark eyes. Roman turned around quickly and shuffled up between Kenny and Kai.

“What’s wrong?” Kenny asked.

“Shush,” Roman said. “I think I just saw Mr. Sanders.”

“What?” Kai exclaimed.

“I said shush,” Roman said as Rafaela slowed down to walk next to them.

“You think you saw who?” she said.

“Thomas Sanders,” Roman said. “I think he just bumped into me.”

Rafaela turned her head and scratched her neck, stealing a glance over her shoulder. “Well, if you saw him before, he’s gone now. He must not have recognized you.”

“He looked right at me,” Roman insisted, resisting the urge to look back down the street.

“What would Mr. Sanders be doing wandering the city at night?” Kenny said. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’re probably just nervous,” Rafaela said. Roman bristled. “Fine, fine,” Rafaela said, holding up her hands. “We’ll take the long way around, make sure nobody is behind us.” She yanked Roman’s arm as she turned down an alley, picking up speed again.

“What are we doing?” Kai groaned. “The City Hall is that way.”

“We’ll come from behind.” Rafaela said. “In fact...If we come from this direction, we’ll be right behind the hero’s honor statue. If anybody’s around, we’ll see them before they see us.” She kept one hand tightly grasped around Roman’s bicep, and he found himself being half-dragged as her strides increased with excitement.

“There’s the statue,” Rafaela whispered as they emerged into the square. “Come on.” She was only illuminated by the streetlamp for a moment before ducking into the shadow of the statue, and the boys followed her.

“Let’s get this over with and go home,” Roman hissed.

“Where’s the logo?” Rafaela asked. She stood up and peeked over the brick base of the statue.

“Everything clear?” Roman asked.

“Yeah. Wait…” She paused. “I think there’s somebody across the square.”

“Let me see,” Roman said, shifting into a crouch next to her. She pointed, and Roman stared between the bronze legs of the statue toward the intersection. There was somebody with a high coat collar walking slowly toward the building. Roman grabbed Rafaela and yanked her back to the ground.

“That’s who I saw before,” he hissed urgently. “It’s Mr. Sanders.”

“Lemme see!” Kai said, standing up. He was barely tall enough to look over the base of the statue. “It’s too dark, that could be anybody.”

“I saw him,” Roman insisted. “Why would I make that up?”

“What’s he doing, anyhow?” Rafaela asked. The figure was still in shadow, standing in one place outside the reach of the streetlights. He might have been gazing into the window of a nearby building. “Super creepy.”

“Is he looking at us?” Kenny asked, still sitting.

“I can’t tell,” Rafaela said.

“Should we go?” Kai slunk below the edge of statue again.

“I didn’t climb out that stupid window for nothing,” Roman said. Class president, he reminded himself. “Let’s just wait and see what happens.”

The only sound was the distant buzz of traffic, the occasional rattle of a train, and a faint hum from the nearest streetlamp as the four students crouched behind the statue. The man across the street seemed to gather his bearings and began moving toward the city hall.

“He saw us,” Kai whispered fearfully.

“Shush. He might just be looking at the logo,” Rafaela said. The logo was still hidden from their view by the steps to the hall. The man approached the place and stood staring down. Roman wasn’t sure if he imagined the familiarity of the man’s shoulders, his gait. The hum of the streetlamp seemed to grow louder in Roman’s ears.

“I expected you to be here.”

Rafaela stifled Kai’s gasp with one hand, pulling the smaller student against her. Kenny and Roman shared a fearful glance. They all knew that voice.

“I’ve been waiting for you to show up,” a second voice said. Roman and Rafaela squabbled for a look, frantically silent. A figure had appeared on the city hall steps, either emerged from the building or dropped from the roof, but it seemed as if he might have emerged from the shadows themselves. Rafaela gripped Roman’s arm so tightly he felt her nails dig into his skin.

Roman had to struggle to understand the next words over the roaring in his ears.

“It’s good to see you again, Falcon,” the first man said.

“I fear you may have the upper hand, my friend,” the Flying Falcon said. “You know who I am, and I’m afraid we haven’t met.”

The figure straightened up for the first time, revealing the face Roman had printed on his brain. Rafaela stared at him in astonishment.

“Multi-Man?” the Flying Falcon said. “There must be some mistake.”

“No mistake, old friend,” Mr. Sanders said. The voice that was usually so warm echoed cold off the stone steps. “There’s a new era coming to the city. This is only the first sign. Forgive the publicity stunt, I needed you to be here.”

“And why is that?”

“Roman,” Rafaela whispered. “Roman, let’s go.”

“To make the second sign,” Mr. Sanders said. “By defeating one of the most iconic heroes of our era.”

“Roman, come on,” Kai insisted, tugging on Roman’s shirt.

The Flying Falcon took a step back, and Roman felt his throat grow cold — he couldn’t swallow. “I don’t want to fight you, Multi-Man,” Falcon said. “Let’s talk about this, you’re not well.”

“You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you?” Mr. Sanders said. “Don’t tell me you’re too soft to fight, Falcon.”

The Flying Falcon straightened. “I notified the police when you approached city hall. They’ll be here any minute.”

“You’ll have to keep me there until then,” Mr. Sanders said. His hands balled into fists at his sides, and Roman felt his stomach tighten as, with a sudden transition, two Mr. Sanders stood in front of city hall. This was the power that had felled villains, saved cities, prevented disasters.

And now his father was facing it.

“Roman, we have to get out of here,” Rafaela said. “The police are coming.” Kai and Kenny were already dashing for the alley.

The first Mr. Sanders split a second time, and the copies rushed toward the Flying Falcon, who assumed a fighting stance. In a flurry of blows, he felled both copies, who disintegrated as they hit the ground.

There were police sirens in the distance. Rafaela let go of Roman’s arm and sprinted for the alley.

More copies appeared and rushed up the steps, and the Falcon was able to use the height to his advantage, striking downward to take out the copies. However, as they increased in number, the hero began backing up the steps, unable to defend on three sides. His breath was coming quickly, and Roman could see him tiring. He swung his leg around in one huge kick to drive the copies back, and jumped up two more steps, crouching. With one leap, he moved to take flight. He was suspended for one moment in the moonlight, and Roman’s heart jumped.

One of the copies reached up and just managed to grasp the Falcon’s ankle. Thrown off balance, the Falcon’s momentum carried him forward and down into the tide of copies, of which there were now over a dozen. He vanished under them.

Roman’s hand flew up in a motion that was automatic. Something swelled inside him, and he felt his body grow hot. A tremor ran from his shoulder to his hand, and a blinding light shot through the legs of the statue, and into Multi-Man’s face.

Mr. Sanders cried out, raising his hands to his eyes, and as he stumbled backward, the copies melted into the air. The Flying Falcon was illuminated on the steps for an instant before the light also dissipated. A police car screamed around the corner, followed by two more.

Roman felt paralyzed, as if all the heat had streamed out of his body with the light and left him frozen.

Mr. Sanders was still recovering from the light, but heard the sirens and sprinted for the opposite intersection. Officers were streaming from the vehicles, and the first of them paused to reach for the Falcon.

“Don’t worry about me.” The hero’s voice was so quiet Roman could barely hear him. “He went that way, you have to stop him.”

More officers were following, but the dark figure was already out of sight. They were asking questions, shining lights, dashing around. One car drove in the direction of the fleeing man.

None of them noticed a teenager fleeing the scene.

#sanders sides #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #roman sanders #studywritesstuff #violence #swearing

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stereksecretsanta · 6 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas, @theydraggedmein!

I hope you enjoy this little fluffy piece that I wrote for you. I didn't manage to tick all the boxes on your wishlist, but some of them at least.

I wish you an amazing holiday with lots of love and warmth!

Read on AO3

*****

vivaldi

Chapter 1

Stiles returns to Beacon Hills a mild afternoon in April, with absolutely zero warning. Derek only finds out when he hears the unmistakable, clunky noise of the Jeep’s engine making its way up the driveway. The Jeep has been safely tucked away in the Stilinskis’ garage during the four years Stiles has been with the FBI, but Derek would recognize it anywhere.

He steps out on the porch right when the Jeep turns around the bend and becomes visible through the thick branches, just when Stiles’ slightly elevated heartbeat becomes audible. Derek is pretty sure that he would recognize that anywhere as well.

The car slides to a stop, the driver’s side door is kicked open and Stiles spills out of it, arms raised.

“Surprise!” He exclaims, loud and cheerful in a stark contrast to the otherwise serene and quiet woods bracketing the rebuilt Hale house.

Derek’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, arms crossed over his chest. Undeterred, Stiles slams the door to the Jeep shut and bounds up the steps.

“I can’t believe you finished it, it looks great!” He says, eyes flickering over the white panels and sturdy wooden beams. “The pics don’t really do it justice.”

He’s older. No longer a teenager. His eyes aren’t as tired as before, like when he left. Derek recognizes the journey he made himself when leaving Beacon Hills in the joyous twist of Stiles’ lips. He’s been healing.

Stiles is grinning when he slaps a hand down on Derek’s shoulder and then promptly invites himself inside. Derek is momentarily frozen in place, unaccustomed to Stiles’ whirlwind energy after so much time spent apart. Stiles, however, does not pause. By the time Derek gets moving, Stiles is already collapsed on the couch, reverently stroking the fabric of the decorative velvet pillows while waxing poetic of their plushyness.

Derek clears his throat and there’s a lot he’d like to say, a lot he’d like to ask, but only one thing that comes out.

“How long are you staying?”

Stiles looks up and his features softens knowingly.

“Forever, dude. I’m here for good.”

Derek’s heart swells.

Chapter 2

If anyone had told Derek that he would meet his untimely demise by a leprechaun attack, he would’ve snorted in disbelieving derision. Witches? Sure, seems legit. Pixies? They do have very sharp teeth, so he wouldn’t rule them out. Leprechauns? Not a chance. Just no. Which is why he’s equal parts baffled and frustrated while he’s being dragged across the forest floor by no less than five, knee-high leprechauns, bleeding profusely from a head injury after they had tossed that big rock at his face.

He would get up, has tried to many times, but as soon as he lifts his head off the ground his vision swims and his stomach twists into nauseous knots. Their small, grubby hands are clasped tight enough around his arms and legs that he can feel the skin bruise and try to heal itself over and over again. He’s not sure why his head isn’t attempting to do the same. Or maybe it is, but the wound is too severe. He might never find out, considering how the leprechauns are currently chattering about how best to cook him.

Derek supposes that this will be his legacy. The wolf eaten by leprechauns. Just his luck.

There are drums in the distance. He had not heard them earlier, due to the pounding in his head, but there’s definitely drums and they’re drawing nearer, judging by how the sound gets louder and louder by the minute.

Derek closes his eyes, shuts out the tree tops gently swaying up above and tries to ignore how twigs and dirt prick at his skin while he gets dragged over the ground. He’s feeling cold, despite it being one of the hottest days this year.

He thinks of Cora. He thinks of Isaac, of Scott, of Liam and Mason. He thinks of Chris Argent of all people. Mrs McCall and the Sheriff. Lydia. Malia.

Most of all he thinks of Stiles. Of Stiles and his pitter patter heartbeat and of what he wouldn’t do to hear it one more time. The way it always seems to pound a little bit faster than anything or anyone around him, almost always betraying his every thought. Honest, even when the words leaving his lips aren’t.

If he really concentrates, digs deep into his mind, he can almost hear it over the ache in his head and the drums, so loud now that they nearly overpower all of his senses. But Stiles’ heartbeat is there, in the back of his head, soothing him.

Derek opens his eyes and squints up at the bright, blue sky. They’ve stopped and the leprechauns have released his arms and legs. They’re in a clearing and when he hazards lifting his heavy head off the ground, he finds himself surrounded by what must be at least twenty leprechauns. Half of them are banging on the drums in an ominous rhythm.

But Stiles’ heartbeat is still there, faster and louder than anything else. It’s a comfort. One of the leprechauns, who wears a headgear resembling a crown of thorns and leaves, raises a blade towards the sky with two outstretched hands and Derek has the time to think that this truly is it. He’s too weak to get up, too weak to fight or even attempt to flee. He’s really going to be the wolf eaten by leprechauns.

He closes his eyes and lets out a shuddering breath, searching for that familiar thump thump to accompany him. Only this time, the heartbeat has picked up pace. It’s almost dangerously fast and Derek frowns when another noise breaks through the deafening sound of the drums. It takes him a second to identify them as rapidly approaching footsteps.

He tries to stave off the hope which flares in his chest, but that’s right when Stiles charges into the clearing with a hoarse war cry which Derek can’t wait to tease him about once they get out of this situation.

The leprechauns clearly haven’t expected Stiles, because they scatter in panic around his feet. The drums are dropped and the crowned leprechaun turns just in time to see Stiles raise a sword, and where the fuck did he get that from, over his head and slices it in two.

The crown drops from the leprechaun’s head and everything in the clearing stills. Nineteen pair of beady wide eyes turn to watch Stiles, who’s breathing hard with the sword still held high. He looks as wide-eyed as the rest.

“I’m the king now, leprebitches.”

Derek would roll his eyes if he didn’t think that it would actually finish him off.

What follows is chaos. The leprechauns swarm Stiles and Derek is too weak to do anything about it. All he can do is listen to the cacophony of screams, Stiles’ steady stream of curses and the violent noise of steel meeting flesh. He’s so tired, so incredibly tired, but as long as he hears Stiles’ heartbeat, he feels hope.

“Derek? Derek!”

Derek opens his eyes, which he doesn’t remember closing. Stiles is kneeling by his side, face flushed and chest heaving with exertion. His forehead is sweaty and his deputy uniform is covered in garish green leprechaun blood. There’s a cut across his cheek, but it’s the only injury Derek can see. The clearing is a leprechaun massacre.

“There you are, big guy,” Stiles says, a tremulous smile on his lips and he sags with relief, but his worried hands keep hovering over Derek’s body. “The others are on their way. What did they do to you?”

“My head,” Derek murmurs, lifting a weak arm off the ground to gesture towards it.

Stiles leans forward and cups his cheek, eyes scanning Derek’s head. Blood drains from his face at the sight of it, which probably isn’t a good sign.

“Jesus fucking christ, that’s a big hole.”

Derek lets his head loll into Stiles’ gentle hand. It’s warm against his clammy cheek.

“It wasn’t healing,” he says.

“And it is now?” Stiles sounds doubtful, but Derek can feel it now, can feel the warmth spreading from Stiles’ palm. Soon he’ll feel the heat of the July sun again, soon the pounding in his head will stop.

“Mm.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it. Now, where the fuck are they…?”

Stiles makes a move as if he’s going to get to his feet and look around, but Derek clasps his wrist with energy he doesn’t really have to keep Stiles close.

“Don’t.”

The look Stiles gives him is one he can’t interpret. It’s calculating, wistful and soft all at once. Derek doesn’t know what it means, but at least Stiles has stopped moving.

“Alright,” he agrees and settles fully against Derek’s side. “But they better hurry.”

Stiles is a bundle of nerves, of anxiety and worry, his gaze flickering through the trees. Derek finds himself soothing his thumb over the pulsepoint in his wrist.

“Who gave you a sword anyway?” Derek asks.

The corner of Stiles’ mouth twitches.

“Craigslist.”

Chapter 3

They’ve been working in the garden all day, outside in the crisp October air. The sun has been bathing them in light from a clear blue sky, which made the chilly breeze almost unnoticeable, but brought a blooming red shade to Stiles’ cheeks and the tip of his nose. He should’ve worn a jacket, or at least the woollen hat Lydia had gotten him for Christmas last year. Derek thinks it’s cute on him, the way his hair sticks out beneath it, but he’s never told him as much.

Leaf piles, evidence of the day’s work, are scattered neatly across the lawn. Stiles asked him more than once if Derek didn’t want to change into his other skin and play among the yellows and browns. He only cackled when Derek growled in retaliation.

By the time the sun starts to set, Stiles is ready to call it quits and Derek isn’t very far behind.

“Come oooon!” Stiles moans pathetically while attempting to drag Derek by the arm up the stairs of the back porch. “You promised me a hot beverage if I helped you out and I have received exactly ZERO hot beverages!”

Derek could stand firm a little while longer, just to tease him, but can’t help giving in to Stiles’ attempt of puppy eyes. It’s not even that cute.

“Alright, alright, stop whining.”

They make their way inside and toe off their dirty shoes by the backdoor as to not muddy up the floors. The kitchen is just around the corner, the windows opening up towards the garden. Stiles, after having washed his hands in the kitchen sink, hop up onto the counter and looks at Derek with poorly hidden excitement.

It’s a good look on him. Derek ducks his head into the pantry, worried that his affection might be written across his face.

“What are you going to make?” Stiles asks.

“I distinctly remember someone demanding pumpkin spice lattes, or he wouldn’t have showed up,” Derek replies and levels Stiles with an unimpressed stare once he’s gathered the spices (and his stupid emotions) from the cupboard.

Stiles crows victoriously and proceeds to fill the kitchen with chatter while Derek prepares their drinks. He speaks of his last shift at the station, of the grimoire he recently got his hands on, of a YouTube video on how to best sharpen your sword and the ugly-enough-to-be-cute, three-legged pug he had seen when he visited Scott at the vet clinic the other day. The words wash soothingly over Derek and he hums and awes at all of the appropriate times, successfully keeping Stiles going up until the point where he hands Stiles is mug. It’s Stiles’ favorite mug, the one with Yoda on it.

Stiles’ fingers brush across Derek’s when taking the mug.

“Thanks, Derek,” he says, giving him a grateful smile.

“You’re welcome,” Derek replies and takes a sip from his own mug.

Not for the first time, he thinks about kissing Stiles. Not for the first time, he doesn’t. Instead he lets Stiles pick up wherever he left off, he hums and awes at all the right times, and wonders what his life would be like if he dared to ask for the things he wanted.

Chapter 4

They decide to celebrate Christmas at Derek’s house, as per Stiles’ suggestion. It makes the most sense, he had argued, considering the size of the pack and the fact that Derek’s house is far bigger than anyone else’s. Derek plays hard to get, but only for a minute or so, considering that he can’t deny the warm feeling in his chest when just thinking about the house being filled with people, food and laughter.

There’s little less than a week until Christmas Day when Derek hears the telltale noise of the Jeep’s engine coming up the driveway. Derek hasn’t done much in terms of decoration, but he’s put a wreath up on the door at least. He should’ve known that wouldn’t be enough for Stiles.

Derek puts the book he had been reading away just as Stiles stomps up the porch steps, and gets to his feet when there’s banging on the door.

“Come out, loser, we’re going Christmas tree chopping!”

Derek rolls his eyes just before opening the door. Stiles is practically bouncing with excitement, his woollen hat pushed down on his head and the biggest grin on his face.

“What?” Derek says, leaning against the door frame.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t hear me, asshole,” Stiles replies and gives him a light shove. “You and I are going to traipse out in the forest and get ourselves a Christmas tree. I have an axe . I am ready. ”

“Who keeps giving you weapons?” Derek questions with a concerned frown, but he still reaches out to get his jacket. He shrugs it on on his way out the door.

“Excuse you, I’m an honorable officer of the law, I think I can handle an axe.”

They bicker on their way into the woods, until they’re swallowed by the stillness of the trees and Stiles becomes hyper-focused on eyeing every evergreen they come across from top to bottom. He informs Derek that he has measured the assigned Christmas tree space in the living room exactly, of how ‘thicc’ he wants the tree to be and which shade of green which would best compliment Derek’s eyes. Derek’s not sure how that’s relevant, but is weirdly flattered.

Over an hour passes before Stiles finds the one. It’s a tree they’ve walked past at least three times now, which Derek points out, but Stiles simply shushes him.

“No, this is the one,” Stiles assures him. “Can’t you see that it’s a sign that we keep coming back to it? Like, sure, some of the others might seem more shiny or prettier from afar, but this has character. It has soul.”

“It’s a tree, Stiles.”

“Don’t listen to him, baby,” Stiles coos at the tree after giving Derek the stink-eye. “You’re beautiful.”

They chop the tree down. ‘They’ here means that Stiles took one swing with the axe, feigned a strain in his shoulder and promptly handed it over to Derek. Derek of course then has to carry the damn tree all the way back to the house. He would be annoyed, but Stiles’ excited grin makes all the frustration melt away.

By the time they’re back home and Derek has propped the tree up against the wall while working up the nerve to ask Stiles inside for hot cocoa, Stiles’ phone chirps.

“Oh, I’ve got to go,” Stiles says, face twisting in an apologetic grimace. “I promised Scott we’d take care of some last minute gifts today and he just got off work.”

“That’s fine,” Derek replies neutrally.

“I’ll be back tomorrow with ornaments so we can decorate it!” Stiles promises, nudging Derek’s shoulder to lure his lips into a smile.

“Okay.”

“Okay, I’ve got to go. See you tomorrow!”

And then, just like that, Stiles leans in to kiss him. It’s just a peck given in all haste, short and sweet and barely there, but it has Derek frozen in place. Stiles makes it approximately ten steps towards the Jeep before he too comes to a halt. Slowly, slowly, he turns around to face Derek again.

“Uuuuhm. Quick q?” He says, a thoughtful finger raised into the air.

“Yes?” Derek manages to choke out.

“Did I just kiss you?”

Derek swallows, and nods.

“Yes.”

“Right,” Stiles replies and licks his lips. Can he taste Derek on him? Can he feel his lips tingling, like Derek’s do? “Soooo, how do we feel about that?”

“Not… not sure.”

“Oookay.”

Stiles looks crestfallen. Derek thinks of unmistakable heartbeats. He thinks of healing touches, vivid green blood and swords bought off of Craigslist. He thinks of daring to ask for what he wants.

“Maybe you should try again?” Derek finds himself saying, cracking his chest open for Stiles’ to see.

Stiles smiles.

#theydraggedmein #stereksanta18 #*fic18 #*gifts18

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scurvgirl · 7 years ago

Text

I wrote more!

Oisin, Aili, Mealla, Ardal, and Einin belong to @lillotte17

Thenerassan/Thenvunin, Uthvir, and Uthlin belong to @feynites

“I’m feeling…yellow, like a canary, but soft,” Tonlen says to the seamstress before him. It’s a rush order, which is never fun, but he’s only recently decided to actually attend this celebration – so he needs this in short order.

The seamstress, Allure, nods, sketching quickly, making notes.

“Do you have any other specific ideas?”

“Flowers, I’d like it to incorporate flowers somehow. And I want the slit to be to the top of my hip…or even to my waist, I feel like showing off.”

She blinks, “Which is it – over your hip or to your waist?”

He contemplates it for a moment before sighing, “Over the hip, I shouldn’t scandalize the poor thing.”

She chuckles, returning to her sketch, “Seeking to woo someone?”

“Yes,” Tonlen says, leaning back in the chair. He considers it for a moment before deciding.

“Do you know of an Oisin?” He asks. Allure stops her work and glances up at Tonlen, her face suddenly serious.

“As in, General Thenerassan’s and Spymaster Uthvir’s kid? Plus two other parents that no one really knows much about but rumor has it they’re in very good with Mana’din herself? That Oisin?”

Tonlen blanches. Then swallows. Oh. That is…more than a little intimidating.

“His…his father is Thenerassan but perhaps that’s a common name –

She shakes her head slowly, “You are going to need an exorbitant amount of luck, my friend. And class. And willpower. And a good helping of fear and stubbornness.” Allure smiles though, and Tonlen can see the cogs turning in her head.

“A word of caution, Tonlen,” she says slowly, her expression turning sharp, “Daran is not like Arlathan. We look out for our own.”

Tonlen raises an eyebrow at her, “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a warning, and a slight one considering Oisin’s family. But enough unpleasantness, tell me more about this gown you would like.”

It takes a while for Tonlen to not feel odd or threatened, but the talk of fashion and color helps break him out of it. They settle on an off the shoulder design that will display the currently gold flower tattoos on Tonlen’s shoulder. The sleeves billow out at the bicep and float over a fitted portion of the sleeve around his forearms. There are to be flower appliques along the collar and torso, fading to no appliques by his waist. At his waist there is to be a sash of the same gauzy bright yellow, before the gown gains more fabric in flowing pleats. There is no train, to allow for more dancing, but the slits run up the sides of his legs and up over his hip. He’ll have to wear some modesty stockings, but that’s nothing new to him.

There’s no time to have it enchanted, and the design is remarkably simple due to the restricted time. Still, he’ll make it work. He has some silver and gold twined ear cuffs his father made for his two hundredth birthday that he hasn’t worn in a while. But they’ll work beautifully for this occasion.

The next stop on Tonlen’s list is the hairdresser. There is a product he can smooth into his hair to give it an iridescent sheen. It’s more expensive than he was planning, but now that he knows more about what he’s dealing with by pseudo-initiating a courtship with Oisin…the expense is worth it. How he makes that call after only three encounters, two of which were filled with business, he can’t really say. Papae would say it’s his heart knowing something. Memae would say it’s irrational and it would be wise to turn back now.

Sometimes Tonlen wonders how his parents managed to get together. But then he thinks of other things because ew.

Next he has his appointment with a hand specialist. Working with leather is not kind on the hands and normally he isn’t too bothered by his rougher hands, but right now, he wants to feel pretty and perfect. Which means he needs a full restorative manicure.

He drops his things off, then heads to the manicurist. They take one look at his hands and click their tongue.

“Leather work?”

“Yes, I am apparently the go to person for military boots now,” Tonlen says.

“I’ll fix these right up, don’t you worry. Any scents you prefer?” They ask as they pull out their needed tools.

“Lavender honey, please.” Tried and true and very pleasant. For the next couple of hours, the manicurist works their magic and smooths Tonlen’s hands. They freshen the skin by removing old, which is painful, but they’re quick to reduce the pain and regenerate new skin. Cuticles are pushed and prodded and nails are buffed then painted. They even go up to Tonlen’s elbows and smooth the skin there. It’s equal parts healing and pampering.

Tonlen leaves the manicurist with beautiful hands and arms. He’ll see them again before the celebration, to truly make his hands soft and nice. This visit was the first step and now he feels mostly raw.

When he returns home, he decides to spend the rest of the day reading. He’ll be up to working tomorrow, when his hands are less raw, and he is in a better mindset to actually work.

He tries to read, he does, but his mind keeps wandering to what Allure said. Tonlen hasn’t engaged that much with Daran outside of his work. He goes about his work, shops sometimes but outside of that he hasn’t ventured out, hasn’t made friends. He had friends in Arlathan, he’d take lunch breaks, go eat with them – they’d view art together, he even had a book club.

He hasn’t integrated well in Daran, and maybe that’s part of why he had such a lack of control around Oisin. Maybe it’s why he wants to court Oisin so vehemently. He’s…lonely. It’s a word he never thought he’d use to describe himself, but here he is, lonely in a city with only a dance with a beautiful person to look forward to.

A beautiful person who happens to be the child of a general and the spymaster. Tonlen’s always had good taste.

His head falls back against his chair, and he stares up at his ceiling. Oisin is integrated into this city, into this society. Tonlen is just…what is he? He works for Mana’din but he isn’t really of Daran. People who meet him say he has Arlathan written all over him and yet he’s here. He’s here and he’s lonely and apparently going to court a beautiful person who is the child of two of the most powerful people in Mana’din’s territories.

He wishes for a moment that Samihlan wasn’t so far away, he could travel, see his brother. Ileth is rational and comforting about this stuff. He already knows what it’s like to move to a new city and flounder. Except that on the surface it looks like Tonlen is flourishing. His business is doing well, he is making good money, his reputation is spectacular. A gorgeous, truly breath-taking person is interested in him and for the first time since Lithadra, he wants to be with someone.

Ugh, he sounds so morose. He’s really quite the cheerful person normally. Maybe he shouldn’t pursue Oisin, maybe it’s just to distract from his own lonely existence in this city where he doesn’t feel like he belongs.

No. That’s absurd, he likes Oisin. Oisin is…beautiful and has this smile that makes Tonlen feel like he’s swallowed butterflies. And if he is wrong and they don’t work, then…he doesn’t have to hurt Oisin if that comes true.

Tonlen sets the book down and opens the box with the golden scarf. He imagines Oisin wearing it, loving it, being beautiful in it. He should be proactive. It’s only been a few days since Oisin stopped by, which really isn’t that appropriate amount of time Tonlen had mentioned. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be proactive.

Initial courting gifts should be small offerings. The scarf is a good start, but he wants to explain why he is sending this particular gift. Prose is clunky, so he sets to compose poetry.

I walked the streets of Arlathan,

Lined with gold and umber

And all I could think of

Was you.

I thought of your eyes,

The color pure and bright,

And your hair a finer gold

Than any on this street.

The scarf, gold and flowing

Like your hair but not.

I hope it brightens your day,

Like the thought of your smile

Brightens mine.

He forgot about this part. Initial courtship is so…butterfly inducing. It’s worrying over what the other person is going to think upon receiving it.

He files the poem away with the box. An appropriate amount of time would be after the celebration, all things considered. The idea doesn’t sit well with him, however, since Oisin seemed to enjoy the thought of receiving a gift relatively soon. The celebration is in three weeks. Tonlen can send the package in two weeks, which should give the package time to arrive, and it means that it will be fresh in Oisin’s mind at the celebration.

Over the next two weeks, Tonlen makes strides to not be so isolated. He finds a new book club out of the local library. It’s for mysteries, specifically the fun kind, the ones with spunky protagonists and erstwhile companions. There’s six of them, including Tonlen. One’s a low-level manager, another is a gardener, there’s a healer who specializes in bones and the regeneration of limbs, and one is a cartographer. The healer and the cartographer avoid talking about their work, but the gardener speaks plenty about her work. Tonlen is happy to gush about shoes too, and they all enjoy talking about the books of course.

He thinks by the time he sends the scarf and the poem (he spritzes the paper with the perfume he was wearing the second time Oisin had come by), that he’s made friends with the book club members. The cartographer, Trust (who is looking to change their name), has become particularly close. They like to cook and have shown up at Tonlen’s shop with a fully cooked dish a few times, worried that he’s not eating enough. Composure, the gardener, has invited Tonlen to the public gardens. He feels better, less alone, and he was right. He still wants to pursue Oisin, only now he feels assured that it’s not because he’s alone and grabbing onto the first the person to receive him well. His friends are just that, friends, all beautiful, but he feels no urge to woo them.

He sends the scarf and the poem in a small painted box. On the same day, he has his last fitting for the gown and he brings his recently completed boots. He steps up onto the pedestal for fitting and Allure lets out a low whistle.

“Those boots are amazing. Remind me to commission you,” she says, staring at his beautiful creations. They are high and snug against his thighs, leaving only a tantalizing amount of skin revealed between the high slit of the gown and the top of the boot. He is tall and elegant and striking. The deep purple contrasts beautifully with the yellow of the dress. There are minor fitting issues they resolve, but overall, Tonlen is exceptionally pleased with the effect.

He leaves the store feeling beautiful and excited for the celebration.

Decorations efforts have been under way for most of the month, transforming plain Daran into…less plain. The point of the celebration is the harvest of the apples, which vary between shades of red, pink, and golden yellow. There are ribbons above doors and great swaths of fabric strung over the streets. A metalworking co-op was commissioned to make cage-like decorations for the streetlamps. They resemble vines with little apple blossoms.

Stores all debut with sales and after seeing how widespread that trend is, Tonlen decides to have a sale of his own. For the few days before the great event, business booms. It booms so much that it almost depletes Tonlen of premade stock. He begins offering discounted commissions instead and that goes over very well. Suddenly he has fifteen commissions to do in addition to replenishing his stock. If business keeps up like this, he’ll need to take on an apprentice soon.

The sales keep him busy until the day of the celebration. Then everything is closed for the day as everyone crowds the streets to see the parade. It is a small, quaint procession compared to the absolute spectacles in Arlathan. But there is something nice knowing that the dancers and the ribbon twirlers, the fire eaters, everyone involved in the parade is Mana’din’s. It feels more personal in a way, and Tonlen can appreciate that.

He watches the procession from his apartment, leaning out the window to watch everything. He’s not overly fond of crowds and the parade walks right by his shop, so he has this grand benefit. After the parade, he follows the crowd out to the orchards outside of the city walls. There are booths and a large temporary hall constructed beside the trees. It’s all very fun and beautiful, even in its simplicity. Everything in Arlathan had been over the top and elegant and dangerous. This just feels happy.

The day is full of apple related activities. There is apple bobbing in multiple forms. There is the traditional form of hanging them from trees and people leap up and try to snag the hanging apples with their teeth, and the water version where the apples are in buckets and people must snatch them by essentially dunking their heads into the water.

There are cheers and carefree happiness at it all. It’s quite the treat to see.

“So this is your first harvest celebration,” Allure says. Tonlen turns from his spot by an apple carving station to see his seamstress dressed in a radiant pink two piece. He smiles and when she moves to hug him he allows her and even hugs her back.

“That obvious?”

“Fish out of water tend to flail, but you’re just standing and staring,” she replies, pulling back from him. She gestures to the table, “You’d be good at that, with your skills.”

Tonlen glances at the station and notes how one man maneuvers his knife with such precision, Tonlen is convinced he’s a carver of some sort.

“Perhaps, I’m interested in seeing what the rest of the celebration has to offer.” Allure links her arm with his and gestures outward.

“Allow me to be your guide! Here we have apple carving. You’ve already seen the apple bobbing because you had walk by those fools to get here. The dance platform will be completed in an hour, then a band will strike up. There is the apple cider area, complete with alcoholic and non-alcoholic varieties. There will be drunken singing by there later…” she runs through what seems to be a dozen activities, strolling him by them all (he makes a mental note to avoid the barrel rolling, he can just hear his mother’s voice “You did what?! Young man, that is dangerous! You could have died! Don’t you scare your poor mother like that! Come here and let me hold you for what will feel like hours!”).

Allure explains the significance of the orchards, how they’re planted for peace and everyone loves them so. The orchardists are well regarded in Daran and after eating an apple turnover, Tonlen can appreciate them too. It’s not just a celebration of the apples, but ongoing peace and goodness.

By the time they wander back over to the dancing pavilion, the band is playing, the dance floor is alight, and people are already beginning to sway with the music. His heart flutters in his chest and he hopes he catches sight of Oisin. But catching sight of Oisin may also mean he catches sight of Thenerassan, and he’s not sure how to handle that quite yet. Oisin said that Thenerassan thought Tonlen to be too forward and crass, which is understandable. But should Tonlen apologize for it? Explain that it’s been…over thirty years since he’s been involved in an early courtship, and even longer since he’s been the one to initiate the courtship. Or is that too much information?

It’s both nerve wracking and exciting. He hopes…he hopes he can have a dance with Oisin. Even one would be nice, but he’s unsure if it will be permitted considering….

“You need to stop that, be confident,” Allure reprimands. Tonlen rolls his eyes.

“Because it’s so easy to stop being nervous.”

“It is. You just remind yourself that you’re worth it and you move on to the good stuff.”

Tonlen arches his brow at her and shakes his head, nearly laughing in awe of her, “You really don’t understand this part, do you? Courtship is supposed to be nerve wracking, it’s tentative and new, and beautiful because it’s this new fluttering feeling in your stomach that you want to both stop and to never end because it happens only when you’re with that person.”

Her nose wrinkles, “That sounds horrible. No thank you, I have my list when I need to get my kinks out, that is plenty for me.”

Tonlen means to reply to her but he catches sight of a certain orange colored gown and straw-colored hair. He turns and there Oisin is, tall and radiant – just like at the shop. There is something different, though…the air surrounding…them. Oh. It’s a surprise, but what’s more concerning than that is the veritable horde around them. Tonlen recognizes Thenerassan, but there is also the almost client as well.

“This is where I take my leave, go get’em!” Allure whispers before slipping back into the crowd behind them.

He thinks of what Allure said about reminding himself he’s worth it. Because he is. Wow that is a lot people around Oisin. But before he can worry too much, a group splits off from the crowd, leaving Oisin with just their father and a couple of others.

Tonlen squares his shoulders and wiggles his toes, reminding himself that he looks damn good. He looks tall and beautiful and he is desirable. He smooths his hair back so that it is all tucked, slicked almost, behind his ears, cascading down his back in a shimmering display.

He walks over the dance floor, keeping his posture straight as he makes his way over to Oisin. He stops a fair distance away off from them, though, waiting until they see him. He isn’t staring but turned at an angle that allows him to appreciate the band playing while watching Oisin not so covertly inspect the crowd. Their eyes land on Tonlen and he pauses for a long moment, allowing them time to experience their own butterflies. He likes that thought. He makes them nervous just as they make him.

They look as if they mean to step forward, but something stops them and they turn to look…at Thenerassan. Ah.

Tonlen swallows and gathers himself. Oisin’s father is probably telling them to not approach him, which he can understand. Still, it makes Tonlen hesitate. But, no, Oisin is worth it and Tonlen is definitely worth it. He turns and smiles when he sees Oisin directly. They are spectacular in their burnt orange dress, it has a high collar and long voluminous sleeves but there are shimmering decorative seams that accentuate their chest and waist.

He turns and acts as if he’s just spied Oisin. He catches their eye and he smiles before striding to them.

A blush tints Oisin’s cheeks as Tonlen inclines his head in greeting, “What a treat to see you here, Oisin. You look radiant.”

They swallow, and several figures suddenly crowd around them, but before any of them speak, they manage to reply.

“Thank you, you look beautiful yourself.”

“You are as kind as you are lovely,” he says before turning to Thenerassan who is wearing a very critical look. The air around him is pointedly disapproving and he uses the slight height he still has on Tonlen to loom. Tonlen accepts it and enters a slight bow, with his foot behind him and everything.

“It is a pleasure to see you as well, Lord Thenerassan. I hope my work is suiting you?” He speaks while in his servile stance. Thenerassan is…very much above Tonlen’s station and Oisin’s father, insulting him is a disastrous idea.

“They are as you promised.” Tonlen rises slowly from his bow.

“I am pleased to hear that,” he says.

“So kind of you to ask, but now I must ask you to leave, we were having a family disc –

“Papae,” Oisin says, interrupting their father. Tonlen swallows. If Thenerassan truly wants him to leave…

“I understand, I do not wish to overstay my welcome. I am glad to see the shoes are treating you well.” He makes to back away when a small woman nudges Thenerassan.

“There is no need, we were just finished. It’s nice to meet you, Tonlen, I am Aili, Oisin’s mamae,” she says, smiling politely.

“Oh!” Tonlen says, smiling sweetly at her. What a darling woman, and he can suddenly see some of the family resemblance there, in the way Oisin smiles, it’s just like his mamae’s. “Pleased to meet you! It’s a delight to meet more of Oisin’s family.”

Another small person maneuvers next to Oisin, grinning broadly.

“Well, that’s great because there’s a lot of us,” she says, “I’m Mealla, Oisin’s big sister. And we were all just…going over there, weren’t we, Papae?” She says pointedly. Tonlen could hug her as she herds a still scowling Thenerassan away. Aili smiles and waves as she follows them, leaving Oisin with Tonlen.

“I must be honest, I am a little surprised that just happened,” he says.

“Yes, I…they’re not far, they’re probably listening to everything we’re saying,” they say, but they also take a slight step forward, their blush intensifying.

“I received your gift,” they start.

“Oh, oh good. Did you like it?” He asks softly, suddenly concerned that there is a chance they don’t.

“I loved it!” They say, blessedly interrupting his thoughts, “The scarf is beautiful and the poem was…I read it five times.”

“That warms my heart,” he replies, “does that mean you will permit me to send more gifts?”

Oisin nods readily, “Yes, I would like that very much.”

“Wonderful.” Tonlen extends a hand out to Oisin, smiling sweetly, “Would you care to dance?” Happiness colors the air around Oisin as they take Tonlen’s hand.

“I’d love to,” they say making Tonlen’s heart flutter like it’s preparing to take flight. He doesn’t think he can ever stop smiling as he guides Oisin to the dancefloor.

“I have a confession,” they say softly, still holding Tonlen’s hand. They have lovely hands, soft and larger than Tonlen’s own.

“Oh? Do tell,” Tonlen says, feeling flirty and happy as he leans close to Oisin. He moves to take their other hand for the current dance. They swallow and shake slightly as they raise their hand with his.

“I am not a good dancer.”

Their voice is tinged with embarrassment and nervousness. They look away, blushing fiercely and it just softens Tonlen’s expression.

“I’ll show you. This dance is simple, here.” Tonlen moves to show Oisin the starting position and the band eases into the dance. Oisin quickly follows Tonlen’s instruction and while it takes some finessing at first, Oisin is a quick learner. It’s a repetitive dance with only a few steps, and after the second repetition, Oisin gets the hang of it and moves more confidently along with Tonlen.

“There, you are doing beautifully,” Tonlen compliments. It’s not a dance that involves a lot of contact, but it’s pretty and allows for a lot of face to face time which is not something that other dances allow. He watches Oisin through a step and sighs.

“I want to know you.” It leaves his lips before he can even process it in his brain. And then it’s too late to take it back.

Oisin stutters and blushes and stumbles on a step, “What-what do you want to know? I’m not very interesting.”

“I find that hard to believe. And everything. I am greedy for knowledge, and in return, you can ask me anything as well, I love talking about myself,” he plays and a small laugh escapes Oisin.

“I gathered that!”

“I’m very mysterious, I know.” They turn, moving their hands in a fun move that makes Oisin laugh.

“You are to me,” they say when they come back into the face to face position.

“Then I’ll offer something. I think you can tell a great deal about a person from their family, or lack thereof. My mother is an attendant for Sylaise. I worked for Sylaise before Mana’din, in fact. My father is a jeweler, and my older brother is a baker.” All vey respectable professions. Oisin’s face lights up as Tonlen speaks and nods along.

“I agree, family says a lot, and I have a lot of family.” Their eyes dart away for a second before their expression turns sheepish. The next step has them closer and Tonlen tilts his head to the side.

“That can be good, but I know from my own family that it can be a bit annoying too.”

“Oh you have no idea,” Oisin deadpans. The song ends and Oisin takes Tonlen’s hand, turning him to look at a group of elves who had been near Oisin before.

“There’s Papae and Mamae and Mealla, who’ve you met. But there is also, my Nenae, Uthvir. Einin, my slightly older sister, and Ardal, my slightly older brother. And there is Virevas, my baby sister. Lavellan isn’t here, she’s on assignment, but she’s my eldest sister. And Nanae, Uthlin, is home right now, they’re not a fan of crowds.”

Tonlen blinks.

That.

That is a lot of people.

Six children. Four parents. Ten people. He…can scarcely picture Memae having a third child, let alone…this.

“That is….”

“A lot, I know.” They worry their lip and shrug, “but it’s also nice. I can’t imagine not having my siblings, I feel like it would be so…lonely.”

“It’s more like you have more privacy.”

“What’s that?” They ask and they both laugh. The crowd moves around them, but Tonlen doesn’t feel like moving from their spot yet, the band will play another dance soon anyways, they are simply taking a break.

“You said that…Einin and Ardal are only slightly older than you are?”

They nod, “Yeaah, we’re triplets. Ardal likes to call us former ‘womb-mates.’”

“That’s terrible. The pun, not the – triplets? That is amazing. I am willing to bet you three are the only triplets in all of Mana’din’s territories…even Arlathan!” He can’t get over it. But Oisin nods and looks...not uncomfortable but it is an expression that he recognizes as someone who is tired of talking about something. He probably gets the awe about his triplet status a lot, and it is probably exhausting.

Tonlen takes their hand and squeezes it gently.

“Your family is very interesting, but I would love to hear more about you, specifically.”

They smile and blush a bit, “Alright, but isn’t it your turn?”

“Forgive me, I am simply too eager to know you it seems. Let’s see. When I was little, I wanted to be a warrior. I didn’t fall in love with shoe making until I was older.” The band plays a quick ‘there is another dance coming soon’ noise that draws Oisin’s attention.

“Another dance is starting soon.”

“It is, we could go somewhere else and continue to talk if you would like,” Tonlen offers, careful to not presume that they would –

“Or we could dance some more,” Oisin offers. Tonlen grins and nods.

“I’d like that very much.”

The band cues up the song and Tonlen guides Oisin through the dance. They speak between instruction and laughing at the occasion bump or misstep. Oisin is not a strong dancer, but Tonlen cannot wish for any other partner right now. He finds himself utterly charmed by Oisin’s laugh and careful grip on him as they try to find their footing. They lean into him and follow his flirtations with endearing blushing and averted glances.

It is only when they say they’re an apprentice does Tonlen put it all together. They are young. Much younger than he is, at least. He wonders if he is their first real foray into this courtship world. And if it is…what a pressure. He wants to get this right for them, then. He doesn’t want them to go through anything less than wonderful. Tonlen’s own first courtship was…decent. He had largely been talked down to because he was young, and she was older, so she of course knew better than he did. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. Later attempts at courting had gone much more smoothly because he knew what to not tolerate.

Oisin shouldn’t go through that. They are much too kind and lovely for it.

He learns also that they are a painter and he has an overwhelming desire to see them paint. To see works that they have already painted. He asks what they like to paint, and it ranges from people to flowers to animals. They love animals. They’re all darling to them and they are so excited that it infects Tonlen too. He talks about he’s been thinking about acquiring an animal companion to help combat the loneliness of moving to a new city.

Oisin is thrilled by the idea. Their father keeps birds apparently, and they talk about all the birds they have come to care for, which is all of them. They are adorable as they go on about their little bird friends.

He doesn’t realize the dance is over until Oisin is standing still and hesitantly retracting their hands from his. He doesn’t want to let them go but it is appropriate, so he lets them. But he doesn’t stop smiling and he doesn’t step away from them.

“You are the most delightful person I have met in this city,” he chuckles. He is about to ask them to another dance when a familiar elf appears. Oisin turns and steps away from Tonlen, fully withdrawing.

“Nenae, we were just –

“Dancing, I saw. Are you having a good time?” This is their nenae so this is Uthvir. Uthvir pointedly directs their question to Oisin, who nods and smiles small.

“I was, am! Tonlen is an excellent dancer, he makes me look like I know what I’m doing.” They glance at Tonlen and he smiles, making his posture small and more servile.

“It’s an honor to dance with them,” he says, directly to Uthvir, but he slides his gaze to Oisin at the end. Their freckles become more difficult to see when they blush, the red disguises the little spots of brown over their nose and their cheeks. He can’t figure out which is cuter – the blush or the freckles.

“Your siblings want to go apple bobbing, specifically your brother. They’re forming teams and your sisters are ganging up on him,” Uthvir says. They’re maneuvering Oisin away, most likely to interrogate him themselves.

Oisin looks to Tonlen, mouth moving to say something before sighing, ��I had a lovely time, I-I have to go.”

Tonlen smiles and nods, “Go, have fun, back your brother up. I had a wonderful time, as well.” Oisin pauses, then leaves, disappearing off the dance floor, a beautiful flash of orange through the crowd.

Uthvir, however, does not leave.

“You are courting my child,” Uthvir says.

“They are a wonderful person worth courting, I am simply honored that they may return the sentiment,” Tonlen replies. They turn to him and look at him the way his memae would look at his suitors. She’d dig up dirt on them all, see them, truly see them and evaluate them like she could see every fiber of who they are with that gaze. Uthvir has that kind of gaze. But sharper.

“I am not a bad person. I know no one will admit to being bad, but I really am not. I make shoes, I love animals too, I take no pleasure in harming others. I’m a good person. And I like Oisin, a lot, they’re special and I want to make them feel just how special they are.” He can’t believe he just said all that but at the same time he couldn’t not say it. He doesn’t want to stop courting Oisin because of their parents. He doesn’t want there to be this misconception that he is anything other than sincere and good. He will stop if Oisin wants him too but that should be Oisin’s choice or Tonlen’s choice.

Uthvir stands still and continues to level that gaze at him.

“That has yet to be seen. I want to believe you, do not give me reason to not,” is all they say before they turn and leave.

Well. That was ominous and vaguely threatening. But it wasn’t exactly condemnation, either. He watches them go with a lump in his throat. It is probably not a good idea to seek Oisin out again tonight. They had their dances and their talk. Talk that Tonlen did not want to end but there will be other times. There are more gifts to give and poetry to write.

Tonlen smiles and sets out to find Allure. She’ll distract him and keep him from making a fool out of himself for the rest of the night. Hopefully.

#tonlen #oisin #tonlen x oisin #fic #clusterfuck triplets au #lillotte17 #thenvunin #uthvir #allure #tonlen is lonely and is going to get a pupper #sail ship sail!#also i am no poet but i tried lol

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grass-skirt · 7 years ago

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I’ve got some news here that I know at least a few of my followers will be happy to hear: I listened to The Adventure Zone! It wasn’t something I ever planned to jump into, but as I said once or twice in the past I’d give it a shot if any of my friends got into it. And yep, @mabelshesbornwithit got into it and wanted me to too so I obliged and it wound up growing on me a whole lot and I had a blast.

So here’s this whole big post, which I’ve now hidden behind a break. It’s a review/semi-liveblog, as I wrote about how I was feeling about a bunch of things right after listening to them. So for anyone who hasn’t finished it, avert your eyes and don’t read this. Here we go!

—–

Petals to the Metal was probably my favorite first half arc. I loved the Fury Road thing it had going on, and Klarg showed up in it and it was fantastic. The ending was also really touching. The murder-train arc was also good mostly because fucking everything with Jenkins was so funny. And it also introduced Angus and Angus really grew on me a lot over the story. But god, the tree of them were such dicks to Jenkins. And to Angus too, but especially to Jenkins. It was pretty hilarious.

—–

I’m writing this right now after having listened to the end of the 11th Hour arc and that, so far, has definitely been the best wrap up to an arc. I really love what Griffin did with it. A town moving through seven whole years, days passing in seconds, as the people inside live their lives in front of the eyes of the people who saved them. I love that. I love how it generates this feeling of absolute gratitude and love. Of these people living every day of their lives knowing how lucky they are to be alive, finally being free from their loop, looking forward to the day they can finally be free from the bubble, and all the while having the ones who saved them looking in on them and watching their growth. That was a really magical moment and really just the kind of inspiring, heart string pulling kind of storytelling that I live for.

—–

And now I just listened to the part where Takko fucking bought the con-a-person-out-of-their-most-valuable-item item and then fucking turned around and immediately used it to con fucking Garfield the Deals Warlock out of the fucking 60,000 gold sword and honestly it was the most fucking stunning character move in the entire story up to this point fucking hats off to that just wow

—–

Okay so I’m… not all that crazy about Merle. I was always planning to talk about this because sometimes he just kind of rubs me the wrong way. Like, I didn’t like how exaggerated Clint made Merle hating Angus (like we later found out it was an insecurity kind of thing but still I never liked it) and like hearing Merle talk about his faith always felt kind of fake–like Merle was saying things that honestly didn’t feel like they fit the character to me. I feel like Clint had the hardest time characterizing and performing his character. There’s still stuff I like about him and I wouldn’t want him to be taken out of the show, but he is my least favorite.

Now, that said, and the reason why I’m writing this right now… I just listened to the part in episode 62 where Merle makes these absolute shit gifts for everyone because he rolled too low on his fucking gift making check so all his presents are garbage and I was fucking losing it the whole time. I listened to this while I was brushing my teeth and it was a fucking mess because I couldn’t stop laughing. When I used my mouthwash I fucking couldn’t even because I couldn’t stop myself from laughing my mouth fucking forced itself open and the mouthwash just spilled out after literally about 5 seconds and I even swallowed some of it because it was just too fucking funny.

TAZ isn’t like non-stop funny to me. A lot of the things that they find funny don’t really land with me (especially because they make so many references that I have no idea about). But nonetheless, TAZ has made me laugh harder on more than a few occasions than any other piece of media has in a long time. Frequency of laughs? Not that impressive. Intensity of laughs? Pretty fucking intense–vomiting mouthwash intense.

—–

I’m on episode 69 now, the last part of the finale, and I had to take a moment to stop and write this down. The episode was pretty good--a satisfying end to a story I’d become very fond of--but nothing particularly outstanding beyond that. I had heard it was a super emotional ending, but I wasn’t feeling that yet. I was listening to it while I cleaned, made dinner, ate, and washed dishes. And as I was washing the dishes, I got to that line.

“Magnus. How did you die?”

My jaw dropped. And as what happened next unfolded, I slowly started crying more and more. As people should know by now, I love stories that can capture the depths of love and meaning and bring out those feelings in me. There’s nothing that makes me cry like goodbyes. Sometimes I’m crying over the sorrow of the separation, of bonds and lives lost too soon. But this was one of those times I was crying because the goodbye was filled with so much warmth and meaning and love. And even though we really never knew Julia as a character directly, we still knew Magnus enough to know how much that relationship meant to him. Even though this was a death scene, it was one centered around a good life coming to a peaceful, loving end. Of saying goodbye to loved ones on one side of the curtain and stepping into the arms of loved ones on the other that have been out of reach for far too long.

That’s my fucking cry-jam right there. Had to blow my nose like 5 times.

—–

Alright let me think of what other stuff I want to say, now that I’ve finished (though I still have like 1 or 2 live shows they posted after the finale to get to).

First off, one part I want to mention specifically is that another part that made me real emotional was the part at the end of the Stolen Century arc were Lucretia wiped everyone’s memories. The part with Davenport was heartbreaking, but my favorite part was with Takko, the whole “What home could be good enough for you, Takko?” monologue just hit me right in the tear ducts.

As far as favorites go, unsurprisingly Takko was my favorite. I knew that he would be before I even started. What I was surprised by was how much Magnus grew on me. He started out pretty clunky and generic. I didn’t really even feel like he had an actual personality for a while at the start, but he really pulled it together and produced a complex and lovable character. I also feel like mentioning, even though what I said earlier still applies, that Merle got better in the final stretch of the campaign. In the beginning he was undeveloped but still enjoyable, and then in the middle Clint kind of took him in a direction that I felt like Clint had a difficult time actually acting out and making work for the character, so I wasn’t really big on him. But during the Stolen Century arc and after that, like with all the conversations with John and Merle kind of re-discovering who he was before his memories were lost helped shape him up and back into a character that I enjoyed and appreciated again.

Some other favorite characters--Lup. Definitely Lup, of course. I was spoiled about Lup’s existence long ago just from fanart and stuff (I was also spoiled about the Red Robes thing), and like Takko I knew I’d like her before I even met her. And she turned out to be super great. She had the same, fun, egotistical dickish attitude that Takko did but was also her own unique character that had a lot to say and a lot to do that Takko would never. God, one of my favorite parts with her was the scene when we were going through her journey after her disappearance and she was inside the umbrella. And when Edward showed up... “I’m going to fucking kill you now.” Ho boy that give me chills. What a great and loving sibling relationship.

Also Angus. Angus turned out to be great, and I really love the kind of mentor/mentie, parent/child relationship that developed both between him and Takko and him and Magnus. Kravitz was also solid, and I loved Klarg. God, him in the battlecar race and during the wrestling live show were so good. I’m actually disappointed that we didn’t get any more interactions between him and Takko during the finale. Either during the battle or any epilogue hang-time between them. God, Takko, Kravitz, Angus and Klarg and Lup all hanging out together. I would have loved that so much. Fucking Garfield the Deals Warlock. That’s another one. Everything with him was just so fucking funny, although I lament the fact that the everyone draws him as Garfield the cat. It’s terrifying. Roswell and the Voidfish were also good people.

OKAY I think I’ve said more than enough, though of course there’s plenty more to say. I had a great time with the podcast and I’ll probably start listening to more going forward because this was a good experience. Now I’ve got to scrounge up a bunch of fanart to add to my stockpile for when I actually load up my queue again after being derailed so hard by grad school. Later I’ll hid most of this thing behind a read-more break but for now I want to dump this thing in it’s entirety on everyone’s dashes. Hope you enjoyed reading all this!

#the adventure zone #taz #taz spoilers #thezonecast #story reviews #my reviews #I'm going to the renaissance fair today so that'll be fun #and when I get back I'll have a paper to write so I don't know if I'll have time to answer any questions #but people are still welcome to send them in and I'll get to them at some point!

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mfoxallsmith · 7 years ago

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Review: Manchester Orchestra – A Black Mile To The Surface

Picture from genius.com

Overview:

This album doesn’t make sense.

Or at least that’s what I thought until I listened to it on vinyl. As with most albums I buy, my first run at A Black Mile To The Surface was on my car stereo. It’s a radio test. A thoroughly innocent way to hear music. I switched off to appreciate some new music. It seemed like there were songs that didn’t flow together well, with huge gear changes between sections of the album. The Maze, and The Gold set a great pace which drops off suddenly after Lead, SD to give us 3 mellow songs that blend together into one. The album then finishes with an odd palette of heavy and light, fast and slow songs to finish the album. From a band that have crafted their previous albums to play smoothly between songs with natural highs and lows, this is certainly a disjointed play-list.

The melody is much easier to understand on the vinyl. This isn’t surprising when you look at how much Manchester Orchestra push their record sales. This album opened at #7 in the Billboard Top Album Sales Chart, and #2 on Vinyl Albums sales. Musically this album is in 3 parts – which is made glaringly obvious when you play it on a turntable. Turning the record over allows for a natural interval between the album chapters, which manifests in the 3 sides. It’s oddly like having 3 EPs.

The Breakdown:

Originality – 2/2 A lot of the themes throughout the album are very similar to previous albums: deceit, guilt, anguish, religion, family. Andy Hull takes on a new role in A Black Mile To The Surface – fatherhood. Learning that Andy had a baby girl (named Mayzie – where the title The Maze comes from) changes your perspective of the album. Previous MO albums have been journeys of self-exploration, who Andy Hull was, and why he feels the way he does. This album explores how he envisions parenthood, and current emotions. There are traces of their previous albums lurking in the background, as well as from the Swiss Army Man soundtrack (see The Mistake), but altogether this is a much more mature record than those previously – both in terms of sound and lyrics.

I give it a 2/2 for breaking the mould and trying something different, yet in keeping with the Manchester Orchestra modus operandi – the MO-MO if you will.

Melody – 1/2 This albums sets off with great pace. It follows suite of Simple Math in having a slow song to open the album up and then sets a drive with the second song – as Deer did for Mighty. The shift in gears between the parts of the album is a bit clunky but if you do decide to look at the album in 3 parts then this can be forgiven. A consistency in the MO style is Andy Hull’s vocal tone, ranging from piercing soul shouts (Lead, SD) to ghostly spirit (The Parts). The dark chord progressions we’ve come to expect from MO are certainly kicking around in the heavier songs as well. I anticipate that some of these songs like The Gold and Lead, SD will make for excellent mosh fodder. Something I want to address is the loss of two core members. Both Chris Freeman (keyboard) and Jonathon Corley (bass) have gone their separate ways from the band since the release of Cope/Hope. I personally feel the loss of their influence. Keys have played a large role in this band’s rise, sculpting the background landscape of many of the band’s greatest songs. Changing musicians may have lead to a different approach to this album. Also, as personal speculation, I think it has also meant that Andy Hull may have gone partly unchallenged in areas leading to more outside-the-box thinking and individuality in the record.

Lyrics – 2/2 Here’s the real focus of this album. Andy Hull is a father and the gravitas of this responsibility is quite clear. I wrote synopses for all the songs in my draft, and whilst themes like parenthood and anxiety feature throughout the album, there were a couple of tracks that stand alone in my opinion. My one qualm is that the third part (from The Wolf onwards) does not seem to possess a lyrical direction, and, at times, feel like afterthoughts to the album.

The Maze I think this is Andy Hull’s impression of how his baby girl sees him; a point of view perspective from Mayzie (rephrase). The perspective flips halfway through to show Andy’s gratitude to his child for bringing him out of dark places into a lighter, purer world. Compared to previous work it feels like Andy has hope for once – “you lift that burden off of me” – and is free from anxiety that so many MO songs are full of.

Lead, SD Neither Andy nor his wife are ready to be parents. They both feel like kids, crazy and wild, “high” and “deadbeats”, who get sobered up by the news that they are having a child. The racy arrangement and fleeting thoughts in this song are evidence of how unprepared Andy Hull feels for this role, containing constant references to how he is “losing it”. There are also themes of dependence. Without his wife Andy would struggle, “I’m lost without a single clue as to where I’m headed. I wait for her because without her I’m gonna sink.” He ultimately says “it took your blood on my blood to believe”, possibly that ‘we needed to have a child for me to trust and commit to you”. It’s a reaction song to hearing the news you’re becoming a father. Disclaimer: I could be completely off grid here though as Jake Cordiner (@jjjjaketh) from blinkclyro seems to think this song is about one brother trying to rob a store and the other trying to stop him – originally written for a concept album based on the story of these two brothers.

The Parts This is the love story (in brief) that let to Mayzie. It’s a really beautiful piece. Childhood memories of your first dates, bedrooms, appearance, that end in the birth of a child. This song has one of my favourite lines on the album – “I’m a water boy overwhelmed by the screaming” – the ‘Dad’ experience of labour. I think that line nails how every man feels in the birthing room at the birth of their firstborn. It’s a real gem of a song and shows Andy Hull at his prime. It’s a universal feeling for me when Andy sneaks in a solo track: Virgin – I Can Feel Your Pain, Mean Everything – 100 Dollars/ I Can Feel A Hot One. It’s always the cherry on the Manchester Orchestra album

Technicals – Production, Engineering, and Mixing – 1/2 This album is tight. Manchester Orchestra’s albums have been since Mean Everything. Every instrument is where it should be, and in a good way. Some bands can afford a little laxity in production, it suits their style, but Manchester Orchestra to me have always seemed like a clean cut kind of dirty rock. This album continues that theme. The overall style and feel is mellower. The majority of the album was produced by Catherine Marks of Foals, Wolf Alice, and newly surfaced The Amazons, of which the former two have taken very relaxed approaches to their most recent work. So there’s no surprise really that Manchester Orchestra have come forward with a softer approach on this album. I still have the feeling though that more work could have been put into the last third of the album to make it gel better. The tempo goes up and down too much between only 4 songs. There’s too much variation. I don’t really want to be shaken about by the songs, more guided through them. On the other hand they do feel very final, and bring about the close of the album nicely.

Overall Impression – 1/2 Even thoughI feel that I’ve sung its praises, this album hasn’t given me what I wanted. I was really looking forward to an alternative rock album to just lose myself in. I’m a bit of a stick in the mud at times. I’m not a huge fan of change. I would have been totally fine with 7 pure rock songs, and 3 Andy Hull solos featuring Manchester Orchestra; a formula that I think works for this band. Instead I’ve been gifted with this deep and thoroughly thought-through piece of art. The bastards. Overall though I like the album. It’s different, and I think I’ll appreciate it a few years down the line when I myself start to mature into an adult with more responsibilities.

Overall rating: 6/10

Best song: The Gold

Hidden Gem: The Parts

Editor: Rhys Edwards

#manchester orchestra #a black mile to the surface #album review #mfoxallsmith

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amandaj718 · 8 years ago

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What the Hell is Happening in Emmerdale? (Theory Time)

Get a treat and some tea folks, this one is long. I have been reading through different people’s opinions on what might be coming, running around after ‘spoilers’ left on the DS forums and using my general gut instincts.

What the hell is happening in Emmerdale? Here is what I came up with or Amanda Comes Up With More Theories to Add to the List! What the Hell is Happening in Emmerdale is shorter though.

Anyway…

Dropped Storylines

Charity and Frank

Last we saw them they had made out/possibly slept together and then everyone went on vacation for a few months. In fact, there is a Metro article implying that Frank is playing Charity, but then the two of them seemed to disappear and so did the interest in the couple. This was back in February.

Moira and Pete

They managed to kiss and sleep together and not reveal it till much later on in the week it happened. Then nothing came of it. Not yet at least. That was back in December.

Rushed Storylines

Robert and Aaron

We all know the story here, but since their engagement, they have been on a roller coaster ride. Dealing with more issues than Vouge the two are always challenged and pushed forward too quickly. I know they had to move things forward because of Lucy’s pregnancy and Isobel needing to leave for exams, but they could have easily held off and given the pair mini stories (even comedic stories) until Liv or Chas returned. Instead, we got a lot of rushing, drama, and sadness instead.

Victoria and Adam

This is still fresh. Everyone knows how I feel about this but yeah. Their marriage broke up within a two-day span. Just so Adam can pull a Ross and declare they were on a break when it all comes out that he cheats on Victoria next week. Sigh. Double sigh. That’s all we need to know about that.

Story Threads Left Open

Emma

Emma seems to have gotten away with what she has done. Kind of. She hasn’t managed to get away from it in her mind. In fact, she has turned to religion which is fine. However, as quite a few people have predicted, she is starting to grow a complex. She thinks she is about everything and is quoting bible verses all over the place. She is cracking even further, and that might have consequences for not just herself and her family but the whole town.

Cain and Harriet

Their storyline with stolen phones, making money for the family, hiding it in the church and sleeping together are so general and random I assume they are just setting them up a big summer story. Not that I don’t enjoy seeing Harriet have some fun. She has had a rough year so far. Let her ride the Cain pony. Horse. Oh god, I can’t believe I wrote any of that.

Vadam friendship with Rebecca

What the hell is that about? Out of nowhere, Rebecca is friends with both Victoria and Adam. It was clunky, plot plop and just confuses me. It is an open thread that could go anywhere. Rebecca is an open thread that can go anywhere. So….

Rebecca

Rebecca’s exist is an open plot thread. She has butted in on everything Robert and Aaron since she appeared. She isn’t connected to her family (where was she for Lachlan and his day to come home from prison?), and she seems to be attaching herself to random people at random times. Dropping random plot points like a little plot plopper. Everything she says and her existence is suspect.

What does this all mean for the Summer aka Theory Time!

This won’t be as stunt driven, but it will be equally as quirky and interesting and probably non-linear.” – Iain MacLeod

That quote above (thanks to @mygodthefeels for finding the article for me!) is from a Radio Times article with Iain Macleod outlining what might happen this year. Some of it has come true, and some haven't but this line stood out to me.

Non-linear storytelling. What if all of these dropped, rushed and hanging story threads all lead up to one big event. Everything isn’t as we know it to be and we all have to sit back and wait for the pieces to come together in big summer event? I mean, it makes sense. We have had so many random events happen (except for Tracy’s storyline. She is the only one that is intended to be filler) they have to be connected in some way?

Theory #1: This is All in Emma’s Head

We all know Emma is cracked. We love her but she not doing well mentally. She is starting to throw herself into religion which might give her a god complex. Just makes her mental break worse. She is thinking things are happening what aren’t happening. She is putting people together that wouldn’t be together. Her mindset is messing with what is truly going on in the town.

This theory falls under the ‘Dallas’ clause. Dallas used the ‘It was Just a Dream, ’ and it screwed up a lot of character development, and the spin-off shows stories. Emma having a mental break and changing storylines could affect character development and what is happening in their lives. It would be hard to do without screwing up quite a few events (Ashley’s death and Rhona’s marriage to a monster come to mind).

Theory #2: We Don’t Know the Half of It!

As I wrote earlier, we aren’t getting the whole story as an audience. We are being told the story by an unreliable narrator. Events that we should be seeing are happening off screen, character motivations are all over the place, and all the little plot threads and holes are there for them to fill out this summer in ‘SHOCKING TWISTS!’.

I mean, I wouldn’t mind this happening, but that is a lot of work for one big reveal in the Summer or even the Fall. Then again, the reveal could affect the future of the show for years to come. I would be impressed if this is what happened, that takes a lot of planning and hoping the audience sticks around to see the final result.

Theory #3: Things are as they Seem

Say this ‘non-linear storytelling’ MacLeod was talking about might be for something else altogether. What if they just screwed up the first half of the year and now they have to fix things in the summer to set the course right for Fall and the Winter stories? This could be happening, and we all need to guard ourselves for this possible outcome. They just screwed up royally. I don’t want to believe it, but it’s not bad to have in the back of your head.

Until everything that has been building explodes, I will hold onto so many theories. There are so many ways things can go, and I want to have hope that Emmerdale writers will surprise us at every turn. It has been a rough winter and spring for these characters, maybe the summer will reveal some of that pressure and give us some answers.

If you made it this far thanks for reading! What do you think?

#Emmerdale #Theory Time #denial land is fun as fuck #Vadam #Robron #Coria #This is long #I'm actually analyzing this #I need to be working on other things like cover letters but here I am #I'm writing up my theories because my brain refuses to let go of this craziness #It must make sense of it all #somehow #Enjoy!

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courage-a-word-of-justice · 8 years ago

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(Armed Girls Machiavellism 1)

I was doubtful about this one because I could never get what was so offputting about it. Maybe I’ll figure it out while I watch.

…bear?

I bet he’s just a hand to hand brawler, that Nomura.

I appreciate the correct English, but “WARNING! Knock out 40+” sounds like a bunch of dot points…or a really bad brand of sunscreen, LOL.

Okay, I know anime has weird names, but “Kirukiru Amo” is a whole ‘nother level of weird. Then again, there’s weirder names out there (like Zolbe from Saiki Kusuo, but he seems to be a bit of a stereotype).

Hey wait, I thought I’d heard of Tenkai Goken (Great Five Swords) before, and it turns out I have! Touken Ranbu’s Juzumaru is one, so is Mikazuki and so is Oodenta (TR’s Oodenta is drawn by the same guy who did character designs for Kiznaiver, to boot)!

You gotta admit the colours in this really pop in a modern sort of way, unlike the somewhat plain Sagrada Reset.

See? Fudo really is a hand to hand brawler! (Then again, I knew that from the ANN stuff, LOL. Sorry I didn’t warn you about that.)

I half expect the pink stuff to be either transformation goo or makeup applying goo.

When I scoped out the show, the first impression shot that put me off was this one (the one just after the OP). Then again, I was intrigued by how empowering it was for the girls the first time I saw it, and I was put off by it the second time (because I scoped it out twice by looking at the manga website). I think it was Fudo’s face that did it for me, which is a bad sign going forward.

Isn’t it “co-educational”, rather than “co-existence”? Or is that just a very bad pun on the show’s part? Update: It is a bad pun, one on the word kyousei (correct/coexist, different kanji for each).

This is what definitely makes it offputting – the ecchi part. I really shouldn’t have wanted to watch this show, eh?

Nipple wrestling is a thing?! (wut.)

Take out the leg she’s standing on. Then again, if you went for that leg, she’d kick you with her other one…eh, I’m not good at strategy, y’know?

I know this is a battle anime, but since it’s a school anime too, shouldn’t Fudo get that thing disinfected?

Seriously, this show can never decide if it’s one or two parts of Rin’s mask they need on her face at one given time. On that note, I don’t think I’m coming back to this show. While it’s middle-of-the-road in some ways, it’s downright disturbing in others, including the bear.

(Love Tyrant 1)

I can’t remember why I picked some of these up…I was wandering around ANN a lot since I had a bunch of things due before the spring season started…

Well, that’s new. A show that made me cringe before anything really happened.

Wow. Blatant parody much.

I’m with Seiji re: Guri. The “wait a minute” though? Do they have that on all TV stations in Japan? Plus, ANN says Guri’s a fujoshi…which is vaguely disturbing when she randomly picks the PM and House Speaker…at least pick someone who’ll cause less impact on the world at large and not play that for comedy!!!

Okay…ooooooookkkkkkkkkkayyyyyyyyyyyyyy…not only Gainaxing, but fanservice galore…I think I learnt my lesson from Armed Girls. I’m getting out of here.

(Warau Salesman New 1)

Why do I have this on my list? ANN says it does its job competently, and while I’m not completely a sucker for monkey’s paw stories, seeing another 60s manga revived as an anime…is one odd choice after another for the industry, so hey, why not. Plus it was made by one of the Fujios, which makes it somewhat culturally relevant.

The artstyle might seem outdated, but it’s living up to its premise – there seems to be an uneasy feeling laced throughout the show.

Comic Sans, get out.

Hyper realistic artwork in an anime like this is always a “should that even be there????” factor. It works in the show’s favour though.

I think the intro is fine once per episode or at the start of each episode if the episode is about 5 – 10 minutes long. For a full length, you want to go ???? (in a bad way) at it. It’s different animation, sure, but it’s the same intro text, and that’s bad.

LOL, she looks like Fujiko Mine now. It must be no coinicidence, since it comes from the Lupin III era.

This is strangely well produced for an anime of a time gone by, but it reminds me of a show that creeped me out, updated, mature and Japan-ified. (For reference, this is the show I got creeped out by – Death By Chocolate, which is the one where a girl eats chocolate with a bug egg in it and turns into a bug herself …ugh.) So I’m gonna drop it. (As another reference, I wrote a transformation story – do you remember Melting Chocolate, back in the day? – that may have taken its inspiration from Death by Chocolate.)

(Alice to Zouroku 1)

Apparently the sci-fi part of this is good, so I hope it can live up to expectations.

Alright, I admit I completely forgot this was a double-length first ep. SGRS managed to pull it off (and in a sense, so did Kado), but anything that squanders its chances with such an opportunity is a waste in most senses of the word.

Oh great, this looks like Denpa Kyoushi. Not a good sign.

…giant arms?

Okay, whose idea was it to turn all the cars into CG blocks? It works on just one car or a bunch of cars, but if you do it on the waffle thing (that’s on the side of the road) too, it starts to look clunky.

Faim Mart (sic), LOL. Obviously Family Mart.

Does this count as breaking and entering…?

The more I look at these CGI cars, the more I’m led to believe this is some Very Bad Anime, but the chase scene is actually thrilling to a small degree, so it’s obviously not.

I like this old man already. Meanwhile, I still don’t like Very Bad CGI.

Asahi and Yonaga (yo can mean “night” while asa can mean “day”), LOL.

Kensaku means “search” (as in, kensaku no engin is “search engine”).

Zoroku is the one element that makes this stand out. I mean, I laughed way too hard at him pushing the girl (Sana, right?) down.

It’s this season’s ACCA, LOL.

Okay, that’s a breach of privacy I don’t like. However, unless you’re a psychic, you can’t follow that example…

Xiaochi means “snack” in Chinese.

“I hate crooked stuff.” - So then why’d you work with the yakuza, Zoroku?

The flowers look real! Is that the true power of CG? (Actually, I take that back. Kado’s cube is better than that.)

Phlox. Doesn’t quite look like what its animated version looks like.

Alice to Zoroku has potential, but almost non-existent themes, no real sense of suspense in its action scene and horridly bad CGI. The only real good point is Zoroku, so I’m going to drop it.

Update: I watched this in bits and pieces because I had my mind on other things, but apparently there’s dust on Sanae’s stuff and Zoroku said Sanae was on a school trip? This is one of the times I’ll have to disagree with whoever said that, because I do not recall that one speck.

(Twin Angel Break 1)

I apologise in advance for if I call this Twin Angels Break instead of Twin Angel Break, because there seems to be no particular set name this show is called in that regard. Plus, you already know I’m a fan of magical girls – last time there was a show that could have gone into circulation (Nurse Witch Komugi-chan R), it didn’t make it but considering how brutal I am with my decisions for simulcast commentary these days, this one might just make it! Update: There were actually a few shows after Komugi that could’ve made it, with Flip Flappers notably making it but Magical Girl Raising Project not making it. It’s just that I consider Flip Flappers an Alice in Wonderland show more than a magical girl one.

This is…pretty obviously a commercial…maybe I should take my excitement back…

The only sister school scheme I know that requires grades requires average grades, so I guess I can’t really talk (since I’ve never been on exchange anyway…?).

LOL, selfies. Thought they’d gone out of style at least a half year ago. Even dabbing’s more recent than selfies…

I can feel the yuri…

I feel Yuki’s reveal as a crossdresser was unnecessary.

Those “women” are from a series I was going to watch (Twin Angel Twinkle Paradise). Dangit spoilers – stealth sequels hurt the self-esteem if you don’t remember they’re coming. (I was aware this was a stealth sequel from ANN, but then I forgot about it because I’ve been churning out about 4 premiere entries a day…)

4 cups?! I couldn’t eat that much if I tried! I can almost finish a whole bag of chips on my own though (not the oven-baked, potato-mush-in-middle sort, the other sort).

Shamisenist? Is that a thing? However, this guy’s so camp, it’s hilarious.

Zundar, is that you? LOL, jks.

Why does this hedgehog have non-kawaii eyes? (LOL.)

Gratuitous shaking of the butt means it’s one for the yuri crowd…no wonder it’s a pachinko ad…

Wait, so Miruku is a girl?!

“What is the Tamagawa River?” - I ask the same question Meguru did, John.

How could you not tell, Meguru?! It’s kinda obvious, right? I love magical girls, but this is the sin of all magical girl shows, built into the format.

Welp, it seems like this one gets an OK from me. It’s not particularly groundbreaking, but the flail and naginata bit seems promising. However, the thing about magical girl shows is that they often don’t fare well under the simulcast commentary format so it may not stay on forever.

(Tsukigakirei 1)

Apparently this is decent…but if it’s only decent, I may just shove it aside…Update: Promo material says male protag likes Osamu Dazai, and after Bungou, danggggggg I’m thirsty for more Dazai, LOL.

Already I cringe at the bad CGI…

There was live action in the OP of Kado but this one seems even more out of place with it.

There’s that one guy with pink hair who wouldn’t look out of place in a different anime, but here he stands out since I already know how uptight Japanese schools can be with their rules (it’s a common topic during Japanese study, y’know?).

It says dai dai dai boshuu (basically, they’re trying reallllllll hard to get people to join through words alone) but the bottom line on the bo seems to be a little too long. There’s also the fact someone accidentally wrote “dog” instead of one of the dais, since “dog” and “big” (in this case big = dai) are only one stroke’s difference, but that extra stroke was rubbed out. Either way, there is an error in the recruitment statement, so the typo reflects that…I listened to it again, and the “dog” thing was indeed the case.

Thank you Dazai for such sage advice in describing teenage romance. (semi-sarcastic)

Okay, who describes water as tasty? Unless you’ve flavoured your water, I just don’t see why. Water is flavourless, y’know?

I live close to a shopping centre, so I see people I know working there sometimes and it’s awkward in that sort of way - Tsukigakirei just captured that feeling perfectly.

I left the volume on after checking the dog joke and gosh, that piano music is gorgeous. I’d love to hear this show’s OST when I can.

People in Western countries use Facebook these days, but it’s the same gig, right?

Watching that hand in the corner working that phone…it’s an odd angle.

Taiko no Tetsujin is a play on Taiko no Tatsujin. That’s where the lil’ drum in Osu comes from, and heck, it’s real similar to Osu.

I never quite understood that thing where girls have to go to the bathroom together…maybe it’s because I was raised to be independent? Or because I’m antisocial? Or even both? I get it if they want to chat, but otherwise nope.

I consulted Aozora Bunko, and apparently that line exists in that story.

Yudemen.

The only real supergroups I know are Swedish House Mafia (kinda sorta, they were only real big stars after SHM took off) and Apparatjik (because Coldplay).

“You should read all kinds of books,” LOL.

There was one background with one door and light streaming in that was so lifelike…that took my breath away…

So, despite its awkwardness, this one seems intent on being brutally honest and that’s admirable. It’s a keeper.

(Boku no Hero Academia 15)

It’s interesting to note in the final shot of the OP, Shouto wears a navy suit that looks a lot like his sport uniform. However, Bakugou is clearly wearing his hero outfit and so is everyone else.

Interesting to note All Might’s blood stain stays on the side of his face when he speaks after it spurts out of his mouth. However, that attempt at humour didn’t quite work for me.

“…until the day of.” – The day of…what? The subs didn’t finish the sentence, even though it’s obvious from the context what it’s referring to.

Mineta’s “person” thing is something used to relieve stress – you write the kanji for “person” on your hand (which only needs two strokes) and then you eat it (figuratively speaking).

Ooh. Shouto’s made a real pretty ice sculpture.

Oh. Koseiteki literally, but “Quirky” in English translation. Nice one, subbers. (The title for the next ep is affected by this particular grammar snarl – which I don’t really know how to explain myself – affecting the word for Quirk (kosei). Literally speaking, the title for the next ep is something along the lines of “Everyone’s Good With [Their Own] Quirks, Aren’t They?”)

(Tsugumomo 1)

I wasn’t part of the anime scene in 2007, so I wonder how that’ll impact my view on the show.

Oh man, OP debut queue. It’s kinda hard to keep up with…

I get why people make that eye-shaped window thing, but I’m not a fan of it visuals-wise.

Oh gosh. Why can’t harem protags keep their hands to themselves? Plus, that hand movement Kazuya makes doesn’t make sense if you’re reaching out for the girl (Kiriha, that was her name, right?).

The more I sigh, the more I want to get out of here. I can’t handle 1) jokes about…a man’s area, 2) jokes about peeking at panties and 3) jokes about groping girls, among other things (which have all been ticked off!), so this show has one last chance to prove itself before it gets a bad score and a kick out.

Yeahhhhhhhh. I get why you’re doing that, but...out in the open, you look like a perv, Kazuya.

Don’t say you’re dead when you’re falling…*sigh*

Dang that battle made me change my opinion fast. Good fight scene. Now tone down the harem parts and we have ourselves a deal.

Dang that “Ya-kun, I’ve drawn a bath!” thing reminds me exactly of Masamune-kun’s Revenge. Or Fuuka. Whichever one it was last season with the dude with the multiple sisters who lounge around in their underwear…*rolls eyes*

When Kiriha showed up in bed I half expected either 1) “PERVERT!” *shaking screen* or 2) “YIKES! Why is she in my bed?!” *shaking screen*. If either of those happened, I never registered it (mercifully) because I had the volume off, but luckily the screen didn’t shake...Okay, he screamed. I’m getting outta this cliché fest, see ya.

#simulcast commentary #Boku no Hero Academia 2 #armed girl's machiavellism #love tyrant #tsugumomo #tsuki ga kirei #warau salesman new #alice to zouroku #twin angel break #Chesarka watches Boku no Hero Academia #boku no hero academia #Chesarka watches Tsukigakirei

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