#I really ought to dedicate more time to my own characters

[artofmindspice]

Creative freedom character study of this tiger doll that I've had in the works for a while. I'm getting closer and closer to having a design nailed down!  This started as a doodle that got way out of hand, but I love the result~

[artemisia-black]

There’s something really interesting about having Orion as more or less a blank slate. More blank than Sirius and even more blank than Walburga and Regulus. I love your depiction of him because analytically speaking, there’s a very tragic angle when you realize the high chances that Orion was brought up to be an automaton, a cog in the machine of the Black family. The idea of independent thought like Sirius has probably didn’t occur to him because I bet he was taught it wasn’t permissible. All brainpower must be for the benefit of the family, all brainpower must be used for all of the “traditions” that have let the family keep their riches and power etc etc etc.

I basically extrapolated Sirius's statements about BCS, arguing that while he accurately reads BCS and BCJ's dynamic, his interpretation is based on projection/understanding, as he has lived with a similar father.

There's something about how much he emphasises BCS aloofness that is filled with a silent judgement:

“Yep,” said Sirius, throwing his chicken bone to Buckbeak, flinging himself back down on the ground beside the loaf of bread, and tearing it in half. “Nasty little shock for old Barty, I’d imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn’t he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while ... gotten to know his own son."

I used this and this quote about Orion, to build his character in Pietas:

“It was my father’s,” said Sirius, throwing the ring into the sack. “Kreacher wasn’t quite as devoted to him as to my mother, but I still caught him snogging a pair of my father’s old trousers last week.”

There's a cold simplicity to how Sirius talks about his father and while that may be because Walburga is still shouting at him from beyond the grave via her portrait. Or it maybe that Orion was a distant father.

I used this to extrapolate the character of a distant father, who wears his family crest with pride (the crest ring Sirius chucks out). Then I wanted to know what made Orion that way and decided to write him as someone trapped in a cage built by his own father and sense of 'duty". But unlike Sirius, Orion never questions it and instead allows his identity to be subsumed into his dedication to the family (also a way of earning Arcturus's approval)

[gellavonhamster]

u ship smoker and tashigi! 😭i luv them sm!! what is the most thing u like in them? And why u love them!?

Ok let's see, I can rarely put into words coherently why I ship one pairing or another, so I'm gonna freestyle here

I do remember telling @patron-saints when asked the same question that I like ships where both characters look in the same direction as much as they look at each other. I think this might be the thing I like about them the most - that both of them are people with a strong moral compass who try to do the right thing even if it goes against the rules, dedicated to pursuing actual justice not whatever passes for it for most other Marines. (I do wonder where they're gonna end up by the end of One Piece because I don't think that at this point the whole institution of the Marines can really be fixed). It's not an easy path, but they walk it together and they push each other to be better while at it. I love the moment in Punk Hazard where she literally yells at him that they should survive by any means whatsoever, even if it takes swallowing their pride, because they can't just throw away their lives - they have a duty to others:

And she's right! And he listens! And she's basically talking to him the way he talked to her in Alabasta when he urged her to become stronger, there's nothing nice about it but it works because that's how he operates and she knows it well by now. It also shows how more confident she's become and how they've grown used to working with each other - I don't think she would've dared to talk to him like that in Alabasta. And he, in turn, trusts her to carry on with their duty on her own and replace him as the leader if he doesn't come back...

...because she has become stronger and he knows that. (He's also protecting her here, and I think he also knows that appealing to her sense of duty would be more likely to make her not follow him into danger than insinuating she's not strong enough to face that danger with him. Because by now he also knows well how she operates). Not to make the same post again, but there's a similar moment in One Piece: Stampede, and it's, like. If I had a nickel for every time Tashigi wanted to follow Smoker into what might be a suicide mission and he had to force her to stay behind, I'd have two nickels, etc. So, battle couple but less in the sense of physically fighting back to back and more in the sense of fighting the same battle, working in tandem, guiding each other, and having each other's back. Or something.

Speaking of Punk Hazard, I don't think the bodyswap plot was done well with them. I think it was mostly an excuse to show Tashigi with her boobs out. But it did make my brain go brrrr because I started thinking about how he ought to apologize to her for being so careless with her body because poor girl must have caught a cold and probably developed a nicotine addiction, and imagining how that apology would go led me to ao3, and the rest is history (which included me writing my own take on the apology). Though I do think some seeds were sown in my mind way before that arc...

...for example, I feel like this panel in particular did something to my psyche.

Which brings us to the more headcanon-based and less serious part. I imagine their potential romance would grow to be a steady, solid thing based on partnership and trust (which is the kind of relationship I tend to ship because I'm boring like that <3), but it would start out extremely awkward. Because she's a sweet clumsy girl who tries hard to make people take her seriously and he's a gruff, rather rude guy who has a kind heart underneath that. Also, they're probably very much are not supposed to get into such kind of relationship considering that she's his subordinate. Potential for cute AND funny AND slightly angsty scenarios, for dancing around each other without knowing how to make the next step, whether to make the next step. Also for copious amounts of unresolved sexual tension... and what it would result in when it is finally resolved. And I like that for my ships.

(Also, lemme be shallow real quick: I think they're both hot, and even hotter together)

TL;DR I just think they're neat

[aegonbeingfakeisracist]

what would you change in the dorne storyline? And why would it be to add more Dornish povs and more of the relationship between the characters? Hahahaha it's to little even the iron islands get more

So true.

I've said time and time again that Arianne is my favourite character and I utterly adore her chapters and think they were fantastically written and well constructed. That is absolutely true - everything in them makes it so clear where Arianne is coming from and why she makes the decisions she does. I can even defend the decision to dedicate so much of the time spent in Dorne to other characters' perspectives, because even that gives us interesting insight into Arianne: the man that met her as an adult sees her entirely differently from the man that has known her for her entire life. She presents herself completely differently. She's great with people. There's so much about her that she simply does not reveal. All that being said, something really lacking in the Dorne storyline is enough Arianne.

I think one thing that was really lacking in the Dorne storyline was sufficient emphasis on the efforts and machinations not on page. For example, think about how Arianne ended up in a position to launch her queenmaker plot. She learned Quentyn had left Dorne with papers sealed with the sun and spear of Dorne through her own information network. She learned about the Golden Company breaking its contract. She deduced those two things were connected. She developed such a good relationship with Myrcella that Myrcella trusted her without question. She seduced Arys Oakheart, seemingly before she knew for sure what she was going to do, just in case she needed him. She brought in a group of friends and decided it was best to keep limited numbers. She determined Hellholt was the place from which she ought to call her banners. She convinced Myrcella to lie to Balon Swann. Every one of these things occurred off page, but is an important part of Arianne's story, and they really do highlight how capable she is. A major part of Arianne's struggles are to do with the fact she has no choice but to be reactive. Getting more information on how she chooses to navigate the choices she has would be so good.

When thinking about how Quentyn had been seen in Planky Town, she mused about what "a clever man" (or herself, because she's the one speculating!) would have done in that position instead - gone to Oldtown where it would be likelier to fly under the radar, without anyone to recognize him and question why a prince and a lord's son were using false names and leaving Dorne. It would take longer, but it would be safer. This highlights how "impulsive" is not Arianne's natural instinct, just as much as the fact she did not rush to confront her father after first reading that letter. Arianne, at her core, is cautious. Arianne is Doran's daughter, through and through. Her impulsive actions come from the fact that she's usually not in a position where she gets to decide how to act purely of her own volition - if Quentyn is off hiring sellswords, she's got to do something fast. When she suspects that Haldon Halfmaester and Lysono Maar intend to put her on a ship to Storm's End regardless of her thoughts on the matter, she does not think it wise to test the theory. She is smarter than people think she is, regardless of if she is or is not good at cyvasse. Having her successes on page, rather than just off page, would emphasize that fact.

I don't believe that writing decisions should be made to spell things out for the audience. Of course not. Fandom not being able to understand that Arianne isn't the stupid and impulsive character it reads her as does not mean that the story should slow down to explain that. But still, Arianne is such a good character, I want to see more of her, and there are so many places where we could have had that.

Stylistically, I do get having the Dorne story ramp up only after Oberyn's arrival and death: out goes the old generation, make way for Princess Arianne. I even quite like it. Same as I like getting to see her from other characters' perspectives. But I don't like the fact Arianne doesn't show up until the fourth book, and then even after that, despite being the central figure of the Dornish storyline, gets a grand total of two chapters to herself. We're talking about the woman that's the niece of both Oberyn and Elia. The daughter of the man whose loss of his sister completely shook him to the core. The cousin of women undoubtedly old enough to remember Elia that are now grieving their father. The princess of a realm full of people old enough to remember the last war, who's notable for having friends from all walks of life. Dorne is a nation state, and through Arianne, we could learn a lot about how people in this nation state are reacting to things. I don't even necessarily need more perspectives from Dorne. But I would have loved to see Arianne conversing with all these other people and reflecting upon their different reactions to things.

[my-hobby-is-finding-the-source]

Do you think it's possible that the general habit of users to openly shame those who repost art generally discourages people from sharing their sources of the art they find, as it gives away that they're "reposting" it, or is it just simple carelessness that is responsible for people not sourcing the art they reshare or repurpose? Also, do you feel it's fine to share art you found elsewhere, so long as you link back to the source?

I have to say that personally I feel that copies and derivatives are an inevitability with any creative work, especially on the internet (something the current state of copyright law simply refuses to accomodate), and it's counterproductive in my opinion to shame those who take this action, regardless of how one feels about it. I appreciate seeing that there's someone dedicated to the more helpful action of pointing out the sources. Reparative rather than punitive, y'know. is good

(also sorry for going anon, I would not like to be flayed alive for this...)

but yeah good work!~

In writing this I may have meandered a bit, so I'll apologize in advance.

I'm not really fond of sharing or posting artworks without a link—or pointer of any kind—to their authors, regardless of the degree of modification performed. But I also don't think scolding those that don't care as much is very productive. There might be a conflict of perspectives.

As is so often the case, I'm limited to my perspective, so my opinion may be a bit off the mark, but I feel that different communities place a different worth on the source—the knowledge about who made the thing.

In the places I often pass through when looking for sources, like on Reddit and Pinterest, I feel like there's an unstated, obvious notion that you're not expected to care about the source. Things are shared for the content they carry, and content is all they are.

There are also communities where the meaning of the source might be different. You may hear the question "what anime is this from?" more often that "who made this?". There's some deference shown to the subject of the thing, not as much for its origins.

When it comes to sharing art, I'm interested in more than the image itself—the pure value of the pixels on the screen. If I'm moved to show a drawing to someone, it is out of some amount of love for both the subject, the work, and the author, all together.

The subject—be it an anime I think is cool, or a character I'm fond of—is usually what draws me to the work. But it is the work that will captivate me, that will draw my attention and my admiration, that will ensnare me and nurture inside of me the need to share. And that interaction, all that emotion, could not have existed in the absence of an author.

And the experience of the work does not end when I stop looking at it—there's an insatiability, the greed to see more stuff, stuff that's just as good, that will make will feel the same things, but different this time. Not all art will do this to you—in fact, most won't—buy to try and explain or convey the experience to other people with not as much as mention the author? That's just silly.

Which brings me to your other question: is it fine to share art, so long as you link back to the source?

That's not a question I can answer alone. Again, from my perspective, sharing art also involves the author of that art, their thoughts over their own work ought to be part of this consideration. Although, I do admit, that usually requires some interpretation.

Many artists will place warnings in their accounts disallowing the reposting—or reproduction—of their works, but the precise meaning of that is left open. Usually, native actions like retweets or reblogs are understood to not be reposting, but most if not all ways to share content across platforms can be considered reposting—even if only mechanically.

If what makes the retweet acceptable is the implicit link back to the source, then wouldn't posting the image with a link under it also be acceptable?

In the and, that's just an assumption I made alone, maybe clouded by an eagerness to share, but also considering the supposed feelings of the people that make the stuff I care about.

That are many other points to consider, like the impact for those that make art for a living, or also where does this all go when someone's creation is made through the transformation of someone else's art, but I think I have stretched this too much. Hopefully you can at least get a bit of a grasp of my standing on these matters.

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Current Tag Game

I've been tagged by quite a few people now (thank you @twig-tea @colourme-feral @slayerkitty and @telomeke!) and in the past I've been too busy to complete these kinds of things but even though I'm still busy now, I figured I ought to do it this time...and if I don't do it now it won't get done. So, I'ma do it in 15 mins. Let's go!

Current time: 09:49

Current activity: I've just returned to my hotel room after having had breakfast. Hash Browns and Baked Beans ftw!! (<- How to tell someone you're British without telling them you're British 😂).

Currently thinking about: All the things that need to be done today - I'm away for work and I need to prep some stuff before leaving the hotel to go pick up some food for lunch because I won't have time to pop out later, and then I have to go to the location for today's work event and I basically won't stop until after it finishes tonight at 21:30 ish. (And somehow squeeze in Dangerous Romance somewhere there...maybe during my dinner break...or maybe I'll have to wait until afterwards when I'm back in the hotel again...but the internet is patchy at best - so if you don't hear me posting about it, it's because I won't be watching it until tomorrow evening 😭)

(Come on Lin, you gotta write faster!)

Current favourite song: This is so hard to pick just one! Okay, Until Then by Tilly Birds. I've known of the band since the Bad Buddy days but never really listened to their albums until Only Friends started airing and I discovered I'm Not Boring, You're Just Bored which made me go to their albums and now I'm a fan of more of their work.

Currently reading: I've said it before but I basically live in the Bad Buddy fandom on ao3. All other books are collecting dust on my bedside table, unread and unloved this whole year 😥

Currently watching: Not much actually since a lot finished airing recently. So, Dangerous Romance, Kiseki Dear to Me and You Are Mine. I've been waiting on english subs for the final episode of Love in Translation but it's been so long I might not bother anymore. And I paused I Feel You Linger in the Air before ep 9 and I'm waiting until the last ep has aired before I go back to it. I need to know if it's going to have a happy ending before I continue because it was SO beautiful but also SO heartbreaking and I was just scared all the time for the characters (someone tell me if it ends happily for all our couples!).

Special sub-heading:

Currently NOT watching and Sad About It So I've Had To Block The Tags: Shadow the series, My Gangster Oppa, and I Cannot Reach You (and maybe a few others I can't remember - I might not be able to watch Red Peafowl for the same reason) - all mainly because they're on platforms I don't subscribe to.

Current favourite character: I think Chen Yi and Ai Di (the Taiwanese Pat and Pran basically) - the one who realises his feelings late and goes ALL IN and the the other who has pined FOR YEARS and can't quite believe he finally gets to HAVE HIS DREAM. They own my whole heart.

Current WIP: My Thai Communal Wardrobe Advent Giveaway! Come request for a post about an item of clothing that has appeared in two or more shows to be dedicated to yourself or to someone else. I've only had about 10 requests so far - and I've already found about FIVE more, so the list I have currently stands at 50+!! There are plenty to go around 😁 Ask for more than one as well if you want.

Tagging a few who appeared in my recent notifications (and apologies if you've already been tagged, have already done it, or aren't interested!): @dimplesandfierceeyes @hsfavoriteworlds @belladonna-and-the-sweetpeas @quodekash and @aprilblossomgirl

[fightaers]

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER.

REPOST DO NOT REBLOG !!

NAME: bellaaaaaaaaaa. bella for short

PRONOUNS : she/her but they/them if ure unsure is also coolio

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION : bad on all front, but discord slightly less so

NAME OF MUSE(s) : god, i have so many. feel free to browse <3

BEST EXPERIENCE : when i first entered the animanga rpc i had a really, really good time from the get-go ngl. for a while, right until my revival in 2024, i was sort of more into the 'western / live action' side of the rp media, and i kept remembering how much of a good time i had in the animanga rpc, which triggered my interest in returning.

my other best experience is basically when i learn from my dearest mutuals then how not to be afraid to project ur muses' voices into their narration, which allowed me to have incredible fun with exercising different mindset and speech patterns and/or different dialects since!

RP PET PEEVES / DEALBREAKERS : uhhh this is pretty specific to my experience and quite particular — thus i hope to elaborate it well — but i highly dislike when writing partners tried crafting our threads into only benefiting / leveraging their own muse(s) rather than it being a collaborative effort for both our muses' character development. this happened to me only ... twice so far ? so it's quite rare considering i've been writing for ten years, but i'm suuuuper sensitive about this.

so for example right, what usually happens is me and my writing partner would talk about our muses and we see common ground and where we could expand on a point of conflict. both our muses then benefit from this point of thread because the narrative we've written ought to challenge their perspective, and this can be driven with angst, drama, whatever genre this can be explored in etc.

now what i'm pointing out specifically is when the writing partner would only try to have their own muse's emotions and challenges on the forefront of the plot, with no consideration to mine, which i think defeated the purpose of roleplaying in entirety because roleplaying especially is supposed to be a collaborative effort for all writers involved. but no, it's their muse's pain that's significant. it's only their suffering that outweighed everyone else's, and my character typically is became an "affirmation" or a "booster" to their muses' experience.

i have a few turn-off's but this one is definitely one of the highest.

MUSE PREFERENCES: oh maaaan, i've written characters from sooo many ranges. typically it's whoever tickled my brain at the moment <333 but lately i do realise i'm often drawn to

(1) outwardly soft-looking people (2) have crazy dedication value; sometimes absurdly loyal to a cause / person (3) most of the time they're brown-haired and/or dark-haired (4) a lot of them give earthy and/or green vibe

and if it's the opposite, it's either someone struggling with their temper and/or have their viewpoint challenged or exploited. don't believe me, check out my western multi as well to see where i'm ticking the boxes. ( i'm on hiatus there but still. look at the muses. )

PLOTS OR MEMES : fuuuuuuck. i'm super bad with first-time plotting not gonna lieeeee. listen, my attention span's crap. my method is usually this: we plot minimally ( usually to establish the timeline and/or where our muses stand ) and then i prefer winging the first thread, usually to gauge the pace of the writing, ur muses' thoughts and/or reactions so mine could bounce off of yours, and then i'd rain in your IM / discord to yap my way into ur heart 🫶 i looove when my mutuals would yap at me right back. i love substances, and i love context. i love knowing what my partners want to achieve or what they're satisfied / dissatisfied with so we can work around that. so yes, thread > plot > memes.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES : wish i'm a short-replier. born a long-replier. working on making my paragraphs more concise though. that's on my 2024 writing bingo for sure!

BEST TIME TO WRITE : when i want to 💀  and i have no idea when. usually when i'm rested enough so if i'm dead tired on friday, there's a chance i'll still be ghosting the dash on saturday. i try not to........ push myself so hard on my availability, which is why it's important i stress out how i am a low-activitiy blog, because i know that even if i push myself when i don't want to, it won't work. my brain would dead-ass refuse to cooperate.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S) : i'm definitely flawed, which is something i like exploring with my muses, because i think i've tried so hard since i was 15 to be perfect. that isn't to say my characters and i share the same flaw, but unlike in real life, exploring my characters' area of weaknesses and how that can have its consequences is perhaps a catharsis for me since i could safely navigate it within a narrative i could ( somewhat ) control. it's freeing. writing has always been freeing in that sense.

tagged: @dynmghts and @ingen1um ( u sexy people muaah <3 ) tagging: @fighterbound , @bladedhunter , @kiigan , @senjufound and whoever that wants to it !!!!!

[sylvienerevarine]

A delightful new tag game from @dirty-bosmer!!! You know I can't resist the urge to share quotes from A Respectable Lady's Guide to Skyrim.

I shall tag: @kookaburra1701, @blossom-adventures, @druidx, and @hannahcbrown

The rules are to share:

A line from your fic that makes you laugh

I have come up with so many terrible, terrible puns. Here's my favorite.

"We’re off to Labyrinthian to find the Staff of Magnus, as per the Synod fellow’s instructions.” “That ought to be pretty hard,” said Sophrine. “I mean, you know what they say.” Olaf sighed, clearly aware a joke was on its way. “What’s that?” “You just can’t get the staff these days.”

A line from your fic that makes you sad

She felt a large, warm hand cup her chin, tilting her face up. Roggi lowered his head to kiss her briefly, almost reverently, for what she knew was the last time. “Hail, Dragonborn,” he said softly.

Sometimes you just have to dump your boyfriend in order to save his life. Maybe.

A line from your fic you're proud of

“I’m a dragon!” Sophrine cried. “You called me a miracle and vowed to serve me, even when you knew all along I have a dragon’s soul!"

Delphine, please get your act together and be cool about dragons for once.

A line from your fic you think could have been better

Any of the ones where I'm trying to get the characters to a second location. Why is it so hard to write about the squad heading from the kitchen to the living room.

A line from your fic that makes you want to punch a character

“You know nothing about me, or the reasons for my actions,” Ulfric said icily. “I am a trueborn son of Skyrim who has dedicated my life to our independence. You are a self-righteous mongrel foreigner.”

Am I character-assassinating Ulfric? That's a matter for the courts.

A line from your fic that makes you go 'aww'

The Volkihar family had never deserved Serana. Maybe the Aulettes could.

Serana is my sister and my babygirl and Sophrine has adopted her.

A line from your fic that's full of symbolism

But hearing Esbern say it out loud was like listening to her own death sentence being pronounced. Again.

One theme that surfaces occasionally in ARLGS is that Sophrine feels like she never really escaped her death sentence at Helgen; it just keeps popping back up in the form of Fate and Destiny.

A line from your fic that contains an Easter egg

"We’ve even got an arena in New Sheoth these days. Ben set it up–you remember your cousin Benethir?”

Adoring Fan from Oblivion shoutouts? In my Skyrim fic? It's more likely than you think!

A line from your fic that's shocking

By the time they reached the outskirts of the city, Sophrine had realized two things: one, that she desperately needed to gather ingredients for the family-planning potion her mother had taught her, and two, that a girl could really get used to being taken up against a tree several times a day.

Sophrine, you are such a ho sometimes and we love you for it.

A line from your fic you want to talk about more

“Too bad!” she boomed, her voice filling the cavern. “Do you think I wanted Saint Nerevar’s memories instead of my own? Do you think your aunt planned to be in the same prison cell as the emperor’s escape route? People like us don’t choose what makes us different. We simply do what has to be done.”

Nana Sylvie's appearance in ARLGS was one of my all-time favorite things to write and I think we should all be talking about it more, frankly.

[catiuapavel]

what are your thoughts on leonar?

Everytime he lifts a finger I go on a tirade about how slimy a man he is but I do it with a lot of affection because I really do love this about him :')

There are many intriguing depictions of knighthood in Tactics Ogre, mostly negative and/or ambiguous ones and Leonar really fits perfectly among them. He turns the idea that a knight's duty is to his people around and shows so much disdain toward them instead.

When they wrote Ravness in for the PSP remake and presented her as Leonar's foil, they did something right by both of them, they truly allow each other's character to shine through contrast, with Ravness dedicating herself to the Walister out of love despite not being fully one herself and Leonar using their suffering, forgetting he ought serve them and butchering them.

Past his questionable deeds and his extremely sour vision of his own people, something I find really off-putting about Leonar is how he preys on the credulity of young people around him, namely Denam (and his naivety and patriotism), Vyce (and his blind rage, his loneliness and his trauma) and Arycelle (and her love and admiration for him as well as her grief).

He gets a bit of sympathy from me when it comes to Denam though because from their interactions, I get this feeling Denam must remind him of a younger self and while he manipulates him, there are times he appears genuine when he mentors him. Still there is always something grim about it because he hopes to shape him after himself and when Denam breaks out of this mold on Chaos route, he strikes me as resentful. He didn't have any other choice than lose his ideals and better nature because of the war and it must spite him to see others would persevere nonetheless.

It's a bit hard to place because who Leonar was before is only ever alluded to and we don't get to actually see it, but Ravness, Donnalto and Arycelle allow you to imagine it a little at least. And occasionally there is a warmth and kindness with which he adresses Denam that leads me to imagine he mirrors his younger self.

Recently, while playing Reborn and going Lawful - Chaos - Neutral, I've also come to the conclusion I think he's at his worst on Neutral route... like as a person. Vyce's last scene on Neutral and Leonar's falsely honeyed words, his last attempt at using him when he's at his most vulnerable his lack of care when he's cut down by his knights, coupled with the implication he lies about the nature of this death to Denam to fuel his hatred of the Dark Knights really seals the deal for me. It feels a bit more personal than his general misanthropy. (Speaking of Neutral route, I didn't remember that Denam's last thoughts were for him and showed his doubts about how much truth there was to his words... I think these last words really reflect the complex feelings between them)

I think he's a fantastic antagonist and a terrible mentor figure and I like him a lot for that! I know it sounds like I want to shake him like a coconut tree (I do) but it's a good thing in my book.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 7

Warnings: None, Readers under 18 can read this book. It is solely fluff- nothing sexual

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

.❤️.

𝕴 𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 a walk that night, whether because I'd seen a vision of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville going to the trophy room, or whether because I just wanted a walk, I wasn't entirely sure. Perhaps both.

I found myself in the trophy room long before them, around ten o'clock. I spent my time looking around at the different trophies. There were many here for names that I didn't know, though occasionally there was a name that might share the last name of a student at Hogwarts.

A few trophies were dedicated to Dumbledore. I'd heard that he had broken every record at Hogwarts. . .for different classes. I wasn't entirely sure what they pertained to though, and also wondered if I could break any records.

There were also Quidditch trophies, and I found Minerva McGonagall on a shield. So she'd been a Chaser? That was fascinating, and also rather unexpected. She didn't look like the type that might enjoy Quidditch.

There was also a special service trophy that was dedicated to a boy named Tom Riddle. The name seemed familiar, but I was sure I'd never heard it before.

Then, I heard quiet footsteps, and I crept into the shadows, slightly unsure of who was going to walk through the door- Filch or the group of four.

It was the group of four. Harry and Ronald looked excited. Hermione looked haughty. Neville looked scared.

"Hello." I said brightly, stepping out of the shadows.

The four of them jumped. Neville clutched onto Hermione and Hermione grabbed Ronald's arm for the briefest second before letting go quickly. Ronald rubbed his arm self-consciously.

"We ought to go." I muttered, quieter than I previously had. "Draco's not coming."

"How would you know?" Ronald asked, rather rudely I thought.

I rolled my eyes, but didn't answer as another voice floated through the room, "Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

I didn't hesitate, striding past the four of them, and out of the room. Harry and the others were soon following me. I wondered momentarily why I was willing to leave my own brother to face Filch's wrath, but I felt rather in a bad mood. Funny really, I was the one who had gone looking for them.

"This way!" Harry mouthed to us, leading the way. I felt more comfortable this way, following my brother. He was a natural leader, I could tell, even if he was only eleven.

I could hear Mr. Filch getting nearer, and my nerves seemed to tighten. Neville let out a noise of fright, something between a squeal and a groan, and tried to take off running. Honestly! He should know that him and his own feet weren't a good match. He tripped, grabbing Ronald around the waist so that the two of them crashed into a suit of armor.

I sighed, mostly in frustration, but it was inaudible over the clashing and crashing of the metal armor as it clattered against the marble ground.

"RUN!" Harry's voice made me jump, and I bolted in the same direction as them. Stupid really, I could've taken a different route and ended up at the Hufflepuff Common room, and away from this craziness.

We ducked through a tapestry, finding ourselves in the same hallway of the Charms classroom. I knew that the teachers had their bedrooms in their offices, and I lifted a finger to my lips as we caught our breath.

"I think we've lost him." Harry said, panting against the wall.

"I-told-you." Hermione said, clutching her stomach. I too had a stich in my side. "I- told- you."

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor Tower." Ronald said and then motioned to me with his hand. "The bloody hell are you going to do now?"

I raised a delicate eyebrow and said in a haughty tone, "I'm going to go back to my Hufflepuff common room, that's what I'm going to do."

Hermione ignored us, looking at Harry. "Malfoy tricked you. You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you- Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

"Of course that's what he did." I said calmly. "You don't actually think he was going to duel you fairly and risk his own neck, did you?"

Harry said nothing about that and instead said, "Let's go."

However, Peeves decided to come out of a classroom doorknob at that moment. I sighed again. Tonight was going to be a long night. He let out a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves- please- you'll get us thrown out." Harry begged.

I rolled my eyes. We weren't going to get thrown out for being caught out of bed in the middle of the night, yeesh. We'd get a detention and maybe twenty points taken away and that was that.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty." Peeves teased.

"Not if you don't give us away. Peeves, please." Harry begged.

Why was he begging with a poltergeist? They loved chaos. They feasted on chaos.

"Should tell Filch, I should. It's for your own good, you know." Peeves said, swining his body upside down, looking through his legs.

Ronald had reached the end of his tether, reaching up to take a swipe at Peeves, "Get out of the way."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN IN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

We ducked under Peeves, and bolted for the end of the corridor for the door that was locked.

"This is it!" Ronald moaned, pushing helplessly at the door. "We're done for! This is the end!"

"Rather dramatic aren't you?" I muttered, raising my wand. "Move over. Alohomora!"

There was a clicking noise and the door swung up. We hurried in. I stayed as close to the wall as possible. I supposed this was a necessary part of the night, was it? Lovely. The others- excluding Neville- had their faces towards the door. I stared into the eyes of the three headed dog warily.

It had been asleep, it's head still on the floor, snoring. We'd taken it by surprise, probably the only reason we weren't being ripped into pieces yet. Now, it was blinking it's eyes open, startled about the sudden intrusion. Well, we might be ripped into pieces now.

"Hey, Hermione." I said rather weakly. She was closest to the door. I reached my hand along, groping along the wall, trying to find the doorknob.

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please." Peeves was teasing Filch outside the door.

I'd much rather get a detention than die.

"All right- please." Filch said, sounding exasperated and desperate.

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaa!"

"Fuck you Peeves!" Filch screamed after him.

"Hermione!" I said more urgently, moving my hand behind me, searching for the doorknob as the dog started to get to its feet. I looked down just briefly at the trapdoor.

"He thinks this door is locked. I think we'll be okay- get off, Neville! What?" Harry asked and sounded exasperated, he turned to see what Neville wanted. My hand finally found the doorknob, and I thrusted the door open, and Neville and I bolted immediately.

It took a moment for Ronald, Hermione, and my brother to realize what was happening, but when they did, they sprinted from the room, Harry slamming the door shut behind him. I locked it with another tap of my wand, catching my breath.

The hell did Dumbledore have this door locked on a simple Alohomora charm? There should be a lot more spells on this door. Difficult spells, stuff only fully trained wizards could get into.

And then the other four were taking off, running back down the hall again, and without thinking, I followed.

We ended up at the Gryffindor common room. I shook my head, feeling rather desperate to get away from the craziness, and sprinted down a different hallway at that moment, ending up at the Hufflepuff Common room door. I knocked the pattern rather hurriedly and collapsed in a chair in the middle of the room.

It took some time to catch my breath and when I did, I was able to think clearly. The dog was obviously guarding something. . .but what?

As though in answer, there was a flash in my head and the image of the glistening ruby red stone on the stairs appeared.

Well, I supposed that was answer enough.

.❤️.

𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖋𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘 the next afternoon when we were studying in the library. I was working on a homework assignment for Astronomy. It was like trying to complete an English assignment when all you knew was French.

Hermione nearly slammed her books down and pulled out a chair rather angrily. Madam Pince's head popped up behind the checkout counter, glaring.

"Not such a good morning, Hermione?" I asked lightly, dipping my quill in the ink well and started to write the Astronomy essay

"Harry got a broomstick for breaking the rules!" Hermione seethed, having just a bit of difficulty lowering her voice. If she didn't hurry up and quiet down, Madam Pince was going to kick us out of the library. "Why was he rewarded for breaking the rules?"

"Because Professor McGonagall favors the Quidditch team. She wants to win and she hopes that Harry having a nice broom and being a good player will help. Not to mention that, well. . .he's Harry Potter, Hermione." I whispered quietly, pausing after writing the title of the essay.

I said this lightly in tone and heavy in heart.

"Whatever." Hermione scoffed. I ducked my head as she ranted. At least the Astronomy was becoming clearer.

At least we didn't get kicked out of the library.

.❤️.

𝕳𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌, 𝕴 woke up late, and had to run to make it to Charms on time. I sat in my customary seat on the left side of the classroom. It was the only class that all four houses had together. Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were on the right side, Slytherins and Hufflepuffs on the left.

I had stayed up late writing letters to Dad and Trang. I'd only written her two letters, and they took a long time to get to her. First, I had to send her letter to dad, who would then have to mail it through Muggle post. Then, it took forever for the letter to get to America, and then she had to write back, and then dad had to send it to me by Owl post since she thought I was at home.

We were working on the flight charm today in class, and we were split up into pairs. I got partnered with Susan Bones which I was happy about. Looking across the aisle, I saw that Hermione was paired with Ronald. She was probably really upset about that. No, not just upset. She looked absolutely pissed and had assumed her normal haughty expression. Perhaps they'd had a quarrel? Oh yes, right, the broomstick.

"Now, don't forget the nice wrist movement we've been practicing! Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important too- never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest!" Professor Flitwick said, addressing the class.

I raised my wand and concentrated on imagining the feather rising into the air. Then, I practiced the wand movement without saying anything. "Wingardium Leviosa." I murmured to myself. I closed my eyes, making sure that my wand was in the correct position, and imagined the feather rising into the air once more.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" I cried, swishing and flicking. The feather lifted into the air like it was supposed to. I concentrated hard on letting it rise higher into the air.

"Well done," Professor Flitwick said, clapping. "Miss Kane has done it! Five points to Hufflepuff!"

I felt proud, my cheeks flushing because I hated recognition.

"You're saying it wrong!" Hermione snapped across the room. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it, then, if you're so clever." Ronald snarled and I frowned, feeling quite put off with his attitude. How rude, really. She was just trying to help.

I watched across the aisle as Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her Hogwarts robes, and then with a clean flick of her wand said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Her feather, like mine, floated upwards into the air and Professor Flitwick clapped his hands, delighted with her progress, chuckling, awarding her five points to Gryffindor. Ronald was in a horrible mood for the rest of class.

I gave Hermione a thumbs up, and then turned to Susan who was having some difficulty with the spell. At least she let me help her.

After class, I followed the other Hufflepuffs out of the classroom, and then ran to catch up with Hermione. She was nearing Ronald, Harry, Seamus, and Dean. I heard Ron say, "It's Levi-O-sa not levio-sa. She's a nightmare, honestly."

Hermione banged into Harry's shoulder as she passed. My blood boiled.

"I think she heard you." Harry said, quietly.

"So? She must've noticed she's got no friends." Ronald continued rather stupidly.

I ran up to him and kicked him in the back of his legs. He dropped his books. "Jerk. She's the brightest witch of her age, I notice you weren't able to make your feather fly. Lay off, will ya?" My words were childish, but I didn't say anything to take them back.

Ronald gold-fished mouthed as I stormed away from them, hoping to catch up with Hermione. I couldn't find her anywhere, and I couldn't continue to look for her because my next class was potions and Professor Snape was notorious for taking points away from late-comers. Unless they were Slytherins, of course.

I didn't see her for the rest of the day, and when I saw Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil walking into the Great Hall, I hurried up to them, knowing that they were Hermione's roommates. Surely, they knew where she was.

"Hey, have either of you seen Hermione Granger?" I asked, shifting from one foot to the other in anticipation.

They looked at each other with the air of two girls who loved to gossip. I already felt annoyed and neither of them had opened their mouths yet.

"She's been in the bathroom, crying all afternoon." Lavender said in a hushed whisper.

"That Ron made her really upset." Parvati said in a sad whisper.

"Thanks," I said, and dashed off towards my table. I grabbed a napkin and loaded it with muffins and cookies and stuffed it in my bag. I grabbed two flasks of pumpkin juice, and raced back out of the Great Hall, almost knocking over Professor Snape.

"Watch where you're going Kane!" He shouted after me, and I lifted a hand in acknowledgment, but didn't look back at him, and didn't say anything either.

I entered the girls bathroom and heard faint sniffling noise. "Hermione?" I asked, uncertainly, "Hey, do you want to come on out for a second? I brought food?"

The stall door clicked open, and Hermione came out, red-eyes. Her bag was tossed next to the wall. I handed her a muffin before sitting down on the floor, my back to the wall.

"You know," I said, munching on a cookie. "Before I came here, I only had three friends and eventually, three became one. One moved and one was much younger than me. I was in all advanced classes in the Muggle world, and people thought I was to smart and didn't want to be friends with me. I was a know-it-all, and a strange one at that for. . .for reasons. I don't have many friends here either." I thought about my wording. "Any super true friends anyways, besides you."

Hermione sniffled and took a bite of her muffin, sliding down the wall to sit next to me. "I just, well you said I was going to make friends over Halloween and I guess I just thought I could be friends with the great Harry Potter. Perhaps that was a bit selfish of me." She wiped her eyes and then we laughed.

I saw a flash of an image at that moment. It was an ugly creature- a troll. Professor Quirrell had let it into the school for some reason. I ignored the image, it didn't pertain to us.

"I don't think it's selfish." I said quietly, brushing my fingers together in an attempt to wipe away cookie crumbs. "I wanted to be friends with him too."

More than friends. I thought privately.

"How did you decide that it didn't matter?" Hermione asked, crumpling the muffin wrapper in her hand.

I stayed quiet for a moment before pulling out the flask of pumpkin juice. "I never really did." I finally whispered and took a sip. "but I knew, perhaps because I'm a little religious, but I knew that if it was in the cards, fate, destiny, whatever you want to call it- Harry and I would become friends eventually or not at all. But, really, I think there's a much higher probability for you becoming friends with them than me. But that's not really a personal opinion."

Suddenly I heard huge stomping feet and Hermione and I looked at each other. The troll, I thought, but I hadn't see the troll entering the bathroom. I stayed on the floor a little longer, trying to look into the future. This was so stupid! I stuffed the flask into my bag.

"Do you think that's Halloween entertainment?" Hermione asked. Her voice quavered with fright and she was cringing back against the wall, on her feet, squatting.

I didn't answer, concentrating on the image. The troll was going to come into this bathroom.

"We need to leave, now." I said, jumping to my feet, grabbing my bag, and hurrying to the door. I quickly backed up, running the other way. We were too late.

Hermione and I backed away towards the wall. "If we wait for it to come closer, we can climb under the stalls and get out the door." She said, thinking it through.

No, I thought, pulling my wand out though I knew no spells to fight the thing, Harry and Ron were going to lock us in. At that moment, I heard the key lock in the bathroom door.

The troll swung at us and both Hermione and I screamed. Glass shattered and water spattered from the broken sinks. We backed up as far as we possibly could. The troll kept shattering sinks. I held my wand out, thinking of any possible spell that would work against it. But we hadn't been taught offensive spells yet!

Harry and Ronald ran into the bathroom at that moment.

"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately to Ronald, and he bent down and seized a tap, and threw it hard against the wall.

The troll stopped a couple of feet away from us. It looked around slowly, trying to find the source of the noise. It then turned and went for Harry instead.

I had to admire my brother for a second. Stupid, but brave. You just had to like him.

"Oy, pea-brain!" Ronald yelled, throwing a metal pipe at the troll. The troll turned and went after him instead.

"Come on, run, run!" Harry shouted at Hermione and me. Hermione wouldn't move though, as I tugged her arm, looking over my shoulder at the troll. Hermione had pressed herself harder against the wall. Then her legs gave out, and she fell to the floor. The troll turned towards us and I hit the deck as it swung its club towards me. My chin glanced off the floor, and I hissed through my teeth at the pain.

Harry then took off running and fastened his arms around the troll's neck from behind. I watched in shock as his wand went up the Troll's nose and I winced in hypothetical pain. My hand shot up to grab my nose, rubbing it. The troll howled with real pain, twisting around, trying to get Harry off of his back.

Ronald suddenly pulled out his wand and shouted, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club flew out of the troll's hand and I looked at Ronald in surprise. Then it turned over and Ronald lowered his wand and it fell on the Troll's head. The troll fell on his face, stunned. Harry and I got to our feet. Hermione still wasn't able to. I wondered if she had gone into shock.

Then Hermione asked, "Is it- dead?"

"No." I answered, quite sure of my response.

"I think it's just been knocked out." Harry said, stepping over the wands arm. Harry pulled the wand out of the troll's nose and I looked away, disgusted.

There was a slamming noise and loud footsteps made us look up. I realized now, before I saw them, that Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell were going to come around the corner. Harry and Ronald had made a lot of noise, throwing things. Hermione and I had screamed as well. Quirrell took one look at the troll, gave what I thought was a fake whimper, and sat down on a toilet, clutching his heart. I stared at him incredulously.

Professor Snape bent over the Troll, and Professor McGonagall was looking at Ronald and Harry, her eyes shifting over to look at me. I wasn't looking at her, I was still trying to get Hermione to stand to her feet.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" Professor McGonagall asked. She looked furious, her thin lips pressed into a line and were white. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape looked at Harry and then at me. I looked away.

Hermione finally struggled to her feet, "Please, Professor McGonagall- they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall said, sounding shocked.

"I went looking for the troll because I- I thought I could deal with it on my own- you know, because I've read all about them."

Ronald dropped his wand with a clatter, and I opened my mouth in shock. Hermione shot me a glance out of the corner of her eye and I snapped my mouth shut. "If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ronald knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

I wasn't shocked anymore, I should've seen this coming. I heard the echo of her story in my futuristic visions. To bad I had pushed the vision away earlier, trying to comfort Hermione.

Professor McGonagall was shocked, and it took her a moment to speak. "Well- in that case... Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head. I noticed that Snape's leg was bleeding. I looked at it for a while. Then he swung his robe over to cover it. I looked up and met his gaze. I blushed, looking away. He'd been bitten by the three headed dog. Of that, I was sure. I shot a look at Quirrell and narrowed my eyes. I was sure Snape had tried to stop Quirrell from getting past the three-headed dog... but what did Quirrell want with it? Why hadn't I seen that in the visions? Because he hadn't gotten to it? Maybe I should pay the three-headed dog a visit. I glanced at Snape's covered leg again. Hmm, on second thought, the one occurrence had been enough.

Professor McGonagall said, "Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this. I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Five points? Was that it? What about detention? I mean, of course I didn't want Hermione in trouble or anything but aren't Professors supposed to discourage dangerous occurrences? If only five points were taken away from me for doing anything- I'd probably do it again- depending on what it was.

Then again, Trolls probably wouldn't be let in again. Dumbledore would see to that.

Hermione left quickly, shooting me another, more obvious look.

"Miss Kane, what was your part in this story?" Professor McGonagall asked, her eyes seemed to penetrate into my soul.

I hesitated, unsure now. If only Hermione had shared the truth, I could've shared the truth! I went with something close enough.

"I was in here before the troll came. I didn't even know there was a troll until it came in the bathroom. I felt sick but I didn't think it was serious, and I ran from the Great Hall into here." I glanced over at Professor Snape at that moment. I'd practically run him down, he probably remembered. "I was right, it was nothing serious, so I'm fine, but when I tried leaving the bathroom, the troll was already here and well. . ." I drifted off, avoiding Harry and Ron's gaze.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Is that cut the only place you're hurt?"

"What cut?" I asked, looking down. I looked in the mirror. There was a small cut above my eyebrow. How'd I been cut there? "Oh, it's fine." I self-consciously rubbed my chin where it'd glanced off the marble floor.

"I suggest you go back to your house common room then." Professor McGonagall said. I nodded, stepping past the troll and walking out of the bathroom. Professor Snape's eyes bore into my back. I felt chills run up my spine. I wish I hadn't had to of lied. I hated lying, even if I was good at it.

I went back to the common room where everyone was partying and having a good time. I slipped up to the dormitory and found Sadie waiting on my chair. I fed her pieces of Muffin while I tied Dad and Trang's letters to her leg.

I kissed the top of her head, and opened the dormitory window. "Safe flight." I said. I watched her take off into the night sky.

Hermione, Harry, and Ron would be friends this day forward. At least, that was what I saw for now. I dressed in blue pajamas, and I climbed into bed. As I rolled over, trying to fall asleep, I wondered where exactly I would fit in, and if Hermione and I would still be friends in the morning.

⬅️➡️

[mr-leach]

Curse of Strahd Ask Meme Part 9

Previous post | First post | Original post by @mandisawesome

Question 9: Did you attend dinner at Castle Ravenloft?

Sorta! As was covered in the last post, our DM @inertia-raptor decided to add in some additional flair and turned Strahd's dinner party in a full blown masquerade ball. Everyone got their own personalized invitation under their pillow (because that isn't unsettling whatsoever) and for the most part the party agreed on how to proceed. Which was not to, obviously. Like, fuck that guy; we've heard enough about him to know that we ought to stay as far away from him as possible. Easy choice.

...Except Sy's invitation included the phrase "my little songbird has told me so much about you," and Sy was therefore easily prepared to go completely by himself, because how dare this motherfucker.

Anyway that wasn't gonna fly with two lawful good characters in the party so they talked Dorian into going everyone agreed they should all help Sy make sure his kid was okay, and Ismark would stay behind in Vallaki where he would be "safe" and try not to get alcohol poisoning waiting for our return. The upside to all of this? Strahd wanted to make sure we were all dressed appropriately for the occasion, and provided plenty of fine clothing for us to look through, as well as...Sylras, who would be there to buy us any additional clothing items we needed, and would even teach the uncultured among us how to dance in the days leading up to the event before escorting us there. (Dorian helped with this as well, since he's not a backwater hick like the rest of us)

So since I didn't get to showcase exactly how fabulous everyone ended up looking for the masquerade in the last post, I decided to make that the artwork portion of this post! In order of in-game outfit reveal:

Cinaed! He sure got his invite from Strahd and thought "fantastic! I get to go to a masquerade ball in a fancy castle! This Strahd feller might just be not so bad after all!" ...Until he saw some of the things written in the other invitations and decided that maybe this would be a good chance to politely teach Strahd some manners. Either way, our boy was sorely mistaken, and actually got SO appalled by the host's terrible manners that he nearly attacked the guy...twice! (Thankfully, his friends stopped him before Strahd noticed the second time, meaning Cin only got strangled by him once)

Dorian could've easily really enjoyed a fancy ball and been the star of the evening, but in this case he spent most of the night wishing he were invisible...to the undead attending, at least. He probably wished his party paid a bit more attention to his presence that night (especially a certain someone), but instead he kept having to shake off a couple of very insistent vampire ladies keen on dragging him away from the ballroom. They were so insistent that at one point he had to be supervised for a while after one of them landed a successful charm spell on him. Poor guy did not feel very dignified after it wore off.

Alasdair really thought he could just go to the masquerade wearing his religious vestments. Like a cleric of Kelemvor could really just show up to a ballroom half full of undead and it would be fine somehow. Bless his heart though, he was dedicated to helping Sy find Joshua, and managed to open up enough to try on some more frivolous clothing...even if they ended up being heavily influenced by his very unique tastes. Unfortunately, those tastes were very much appreciated by the Count, and Al was the first to fall victim to getting special attention from Strahd that evening...

I cannot tell you how wonderfully entertaining it was during the sessions leading up to the masquerade arc to listen to the other players react, both in and out of character, to Sy procuring the different pieces of his outfit. It was seriously SO great and if it weren't for the beautiful way our party dynamic had started out, which pretty much guaranteed that Sy would behave closed off and distrusting to everyone, it wouldn't have been nearly as satisfying. The reveal was even better--not only was everything he bought incredibly camp, but he looked great as hell, and was extremely comfortable mingling with the other, potentially very dangerous guests at the ball. Sy was very motivated to find his kid, and knew he was walking into a den of vampires...to him, it seemed like a no brainer for him to sashay in there, neck exposed, and put on his best customer service voice to get as much attention (and information) as he could gather, and it honestly didn't matter to him what kind of bodily fluids he might have to part with to get what he needed.

And the best part was that from the outside, it made him look like the biggest, most selfish idiot who clearly needed rescuing, and he got in really big trouble with everyone for wandering off and letting himself be seduced and whisked away without consulting the party, and for setting aside looking for his own son just to get laid, and for being so gullible that he could've easily fallen victim to a vampire, etc. It was beautiful, honestly. I don't think I could have asked for a better response lmao.

Of course, the evening wouldn't have been complete without the NPCs wonderfully played by @inertia-raptor. I didn't draw everyone we ran into, but here are how Strahd, Sylras, and Joshua were dressed for the event:

(Please forgive Sylras. They still had no say in what they had to wear. Not that they could tell that there was anything unsettling about it, but still.)

[hitemwiththeoop]

see, i think this all summarizes as the toxicity of the fandom pushing the creativity of the authors.

it's no secret that the TLOK backlash was loud & insane and it's still is. you'll still find people trashtalking the show and talking about how better ATLA was compared to it. i feel like this has marked the creative decisions taken by bryke lately, especially when it comes to the azula redemption arc situation.

the movies also have a part in it. i mean, to have a movie especially dedicated to zuko, ATLA's fandom favorite character, says a lot, but not only that. the special focus given to kyoshi in comparison to the other avatars because of the impact she had in the fandom can be easily noticed.

my point? the creators are doing what they can to keep the fanbase pleased and i fear this is going to lead the show to a hellhole

let's begin with:

we all know how much the fandom has wanted an azula redemption arc ever since the original series' finale. we've seen it everywhere: on tumblr, on twitter, on instagram, on fanfics, you name it. it's been so much so that some have argued that the only reason the creators didn't redeem azula was because they didn't like her. aaron ehasz even said that he intended to have her have a redemption "longer and far complicated than zuko's". yet the creators never fully confirmed it, only saying it was possible she could heal in the future.

the comics give us but little hints at azula trying to become better, and in fact, it seems her mental state only worsened in the course of them. many fans have criticized the comics for their writing and characterization of the characters (when it comes to my opinion, azula's was on point).

yet when you think of it, with barely hints of it, you wouldn't see that a redemption arc for azula was ever the original intention. it wasn't ever implied in the first comics nor in TLOK, and in fact it seems it was only recently that it was incorporated. ehasz revelation of wanting to give azula a redemption arc was coincidentally brought up when the series' popularity re-spiked after years of being on the low, as it was made availaible on netflix during the pandemic.

a discussion was brought up about the representation of physicological damage and mental issues through azula's character, and realizing how much her upbringing had molded her way of being, fans began claiming she deserved a redemption arc like zuko did using her age and vulnerability as an argument. this has sparked much debate, but we ought to recognize that prior to these years, this analysis of azula wasn't visibilized the way it has now.

one has to wonder, if the series' fame hadn't resurged, would've the creators felt compelled to make a redemption arc for azula?

i've mixed feelings about this comic. it came out during the time the kyoshi's novels began becoming popular, and it feels like it was made as a move to give the fans what they'd been wanting: seeing more of kyoshi in official media. putting aside how wild it is that avatar kyoshi somehow appeared in front of suki (she could've been imagining for all we know), it does seem strange that we didn't get any more about her before in the prior comics when the chance had been given. instead, we saw a bit of roku and yangchen in the promise and the rift trilogies (and nothing of kuruk, smh).

that and that kyoshi's too going to get her own movie feels a little odd to me. she's really become the breakout character, and though i'm glad she's receiving the attention she deserves, i feel it takes away the importance other characters have in the plot and that i wish were explored also. true, we've got the dawn of yangchen now, yet i know it's not going to get nearly as much recognition as the kyoshi novels.

then, there's the new earth kingdom avatar series.

given the show's newfound popularity is no wonder avatar studios has decided to launch new media, yet, why develop another show when there's already so much to explore about the two series? it feels it's because they think no one will want to see more about korra because of all the backlash it received. it has only been recently that TLOK has found more acceptance among the fans (and more comics have been coming out because of it). yes, there's an upcoming movie about her, but the fact that it's been placed after the adult gaang movie and zuko's, one thinks it'll be the most delayed.

i'm all for avatar getting new media out and exploring the universe we didn't have a chance to see all of in the original series, but im afraid that launching all this stuff to please the fans will end up being detrimental. the games, the comics, the movies... theyre getting out all this new content as fast as they can as if theyre trying to take advantage of the popularity they've regained before it goes out, and to avoid it doing so, theyre trying to do what the fans want them to. that of course implies many things in the plot will be made so that its liked by the fans and no independent thought goes into them. that limits the creative capacity of the writers and all of those who will work at avatar studios.

honestly i REALLY hope this doesnt end badly thats all.

[mirclealignr]

give it a try | r.l

remus lupin x gn!reader

requested by @augustmemoriess for showing remus your favourite book series — i hope this is okay <3

warnings; mentions of food, think that’s it?

word count; 1100+

Remus had always been rather picky about the fiction he read. He was notorious for turning down recommendations that didn’t meet his criteria.

For nearly three weeks you had been trying to convince him to read your favourite book series of all time. It was filled with suspense, twists and turns, intriguing character developments, and incredible sub plots. You read it every year, completely immersed in the author’s imagination. After finishing it for the sixth or seventh time, you finally decided to try your luck with Remus.

“It just doesn’t sound interesting to me, love,” Remus protested.

“Rem! It is, though. It’s amazing and I know you’ll love it if you just give it a try,” you pleaded.

Remus scoffed, shaking his head and you could see his resolve was crumbling under your consistent pleas. You clutched onto his arm, pulling him down to your level.

“Please?”

Remus sighed, looking into your eyes, “All right, fine.”

“Yes!”

“Calm down, I’ll probably not like it, exactly as I told you.”

You ignored his ignorance, for he had never read the amazing series that had blessed your life nearly seven years ago. Rummaging through your bookshelf, you found the first volume and handed it to him, full of hope and high expectations. You were confident that you shouldn’t be disappointed—he really ought to have trusted you more.

He examined the front cover with a subtle grimace, though it didn’t go unnoticed by you. You laughed breathily at his prejudiced disdain and settled into the bed next to him, fingering the pages of a muggle classic to find where you’d left off. Beside you, Remus quickly read the dedications before starting on the prologue.

For an hour you read in silence, both of you barely shifting positions or mumbling thoughts as you read through pages of literature. You were too engrossed in your own story to notice how Remus was enjoying, or not enjoying, his. When he closed his book, you thought he might have given up, and were ready to defend it with all your might. But soon afterwards came a hefty yawn, and a quick check to the clock alerted you of the late hour.

“Better sneak back into my dorm.”

“Or you could stay,” you prompted, reluctant to be separated from his warmth and loving arms.

“Or I could stay,” he conceded with a soft smirk, climbing under the covers and blowing out the candles on your bedside table.

He adjusted his position so that you could rest safely under his chin, tucked into him closely. He whispered that he loved you, like he always did before going off to sleep. The words were always the last thing you heard before entering some fantastical dream where, more often than not, he also featured. His arms tightened instinctively around you and loosened slowly as he lost consciousness.

The next morning, you woke to Remus already reading, slumped against the pillows and breathing heavily through his nose. Rubbing your eyes and adjusting to the morning sun, you realised that it was the book from last night. You smiled softly to yourself, knowing full well that if he didn’t like it, he wouldn’t have picked it back up again. It took him a minute to notice that you’d woken up, but as soon as he caught sight of your eyes that were fixed to him, he put his book down and wrapped you in an enormous hug.

“Good morning,” he mumbled into your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

You kissed him sweetly. “Good morning.”

Remus smiled against your lips as he pulled you in for another before getting out of your bed. He slipped on the jacket that he was wearing the day before and checked his hair in the mirror, patting down the strays that were sticking up. You knew that you should have been getting dressed, but you couldn’t help but watch him from the bed, mesmerised by his simple actions because it was him who was doing them. He retrieved the book you’d lended to him and told you he’d wait downstairs until you were ready for breakfast. Smiling smugly, you slipped out of bed and got dressed into some casual weekend clothes.

-

“Let’s go then,” Remus said, getting up from the sofa when you reached him.

It didn’t escape your notice that Remus was, once again, taking the book with him. It wasn’t unusual for Remus to carry books around with him or take them to meals, but this was a book he’d sworn that he would detest. Watching him carry it close to him, with his finger between the pages so he didn’t lose his place, made it more difficult for you to keep a smirk at bay.

“What?” Remus asked, finally taking notice of your playful demeanour.

“Nothing, just you’ve barely put that book down.”

Remus laughed, shaking his head for he knew there would be no denying that you were right and he was wrong. He’d no idea why he’d ever doubted you in the first place, it seemed utterly stupid now. He scratched the back of his neck before looking at you and shrugging his shoulders.

“Oh no, you’re going to have to verbally admit this. You’re lucky I’m not getting it in writing,” you quipped.

“Fine. Yes, this is a good book, and I’m enjoying it. But it doesn’t mean the rest of the series will be just as good,” he protested.

“You just wait.”

Remus laughed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush against him as you walked into the Great Hall. His lips graced the side of your head before he pulled away to sit down with the rest of the Marauders.

-

It took exactly one week for Remus to finish the entire series. He’d devoured each book, eager for more and to learn of the new mysteries each volume brought. Disappointment naturally followed after finishing the series--it was over and he’d never get the first experience back, never be able to experience reading it for the first time again, the excitement of the not knowing, the pit in his stomach from its plot twists and how it affected the ending he'd predicted. But he did have the next read to look forward to, being able picking up on things he’d missed the first time around. Yes, it was good enough that he wished to read it again.

“The protagonist had one of the best arcs I’ve ever seen. And the development of the plot was amazing, I wasn’t bored once,” Remus said, joining you in bed one early evening, a new book in hand.

“I know, and the villains' motives actually stayed interesting, they didn’t go stale. And the side characters, Merlin, I love every one of them,” you added.

“You were right, Y/N, that was a very good series.”

“Just ‘very good’?”

“All right, incredible. Does that work for you?” he asked, smiling down at you in the candle light which softened his features.

“Yes it does,” you replied, pulling him down by his jumper for a kiss.

[variousqueerthings]

giving the new hellraiser an extra half star on letterboxd just to spite the people who’re being really grumpy about it, because most of the time people are either 

a. overly comparing it to the original in a way that doesn’t actually address the lore-building in this movie on its own merits (just “oh the Cenobites don’t look the same as they used to,” “oh this wasn’t how it was in the original,” etc)

b. calling the main character “annoying” which immediately makes me lose interest in a review about a movie with an interesting female protagonist

also some other feelings about it (with heavy spoilers), many of which are sentiments I didn’t see explored on letterboxd (although I didn’t go too far because I’d have just been annoyed):

Horror definitely is too glossy these days as a whole, I will agree with that, and Hellraiser especially is something that could benefit from more grit and sweat and tactile sex, however this one DID give us some wonderful things:

- The conceptual Drag Looks, really fascinating elevated aesthetics (Cenobite Aesthetes - arbiters of Taste - that sounds about right for them). My watch-partner and I loved every Cenobite, they really went off with the designs, and with pushing the genderlessness of them. I wish there were more body-types though, they ought to be past the idea that thinness = elevation, especially since a bunch of them barely look human at all! (I’m going to assume that they’re also around, since there was a fat Cenobite in the original, but wish the movie itself had thought of doing that)

I like the meta-choice of casting Jamie Clayton as well. Since she was playing the lead-priest, there was a sense of worship being placed on her body-as-a-trans-body as well as having achieved the ultimate form of beauty and transformation (in the case of the movie “their body”, since the Cenobites are genderless)

I loved how fundamentally Alien they were once more, fully operating under their own, clear (to them) rules. And I liked that by the end the main character figured out how to play by those rules too.

- Obviously will always think the BDSM/kink "pleasure and pain" element of them ought to be more of a focal point than it's ever been since the first movie, but I was pretty into this idea of being given a gift and it being filtered through this inherently alien worldview (not evil, just alien). The box was always a gift after all.

The gore was fully Happening, a lot of it based in flaying, which is especially yeurgh to me, but like yay for the gore! (even though I was watching with my hands over my eyes). Speaking of “not enough sexy” there was time dedicated and focus and... practically tenderness? to a lot of those scenes that definitely made them feel like BDSM play!

Head-Cenobite genuinely thought the lead was kind of sexy for choosing a lifetime of bitterness and regret, was like "damn that's kinkier than I've ever been."

- Also opens up some interesting questions (that would need a TV series to go into with more depth) about the nature of sensation, power-dynamics, worship, pleasure and pain, and of course about grief. Her brother was dead from almost the beginning and it was her fault, and throughout it all she's spiralling into this desperate attempt to save him somehow despite it all, and she could have ended up taking the Cenobites gift, despite knowing it's poison -- she's a very coherent character who makes a lot of smart decisions, while staving off the reality that her relapsing led to her brother's death, it's a neat arc.

It’s got a lot of questions in it, and a lot of lore to play with

- My one real nitpick (apart from the need for more sexiness of the Actual Sex variety) is that Trevor's motives were too shallow to fully allow his betrayal to feel real. I called him from the start, but kept expecting more of an explanation. The idea that he's willingly engaging in this extreme violence "just" for money, only for him to turn around and seem kind of apologetic was a bit weak. Should've let him go full-bastard OR full-bastard-but-I-love-you-babe-despite-not-planning-to, not this kind of halfway "eh, this maybe went a bit far, but I'll stand by and let it happen I guess?" like... my guy. These people are gonna be doomed to eternal torment and it seems like you knew that. At what point was it too far for you?

Overall this concept: what is life, but one big sensation? savour it all, even (especially) the pain.

My favourite since the original for sure

[constancelaufeydottir]

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝

Pairing: Neighbour!Bucky x reader

Warnings: Mentions of knife, blood, cursing, murder, mention of cannibalism, dark!Bucky(?), major character death, slight smut, fluff.

Summary: Bucky set his eyes on his sweet and cute neighbour who had suffered from a loss recently, determined to make her his.

Word count: 4.3k

a/n: This is my entry for @ambrosiase hotel indigo writing challenge. It’s my first ever writing challenge, and I had a lot of fun writing this! Honestly, I'm really grateful for this challenge because it motivates me to finish this wip that has been sitting in the draft for too long. Thank you for this lovely challenge mae ♡♡

Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. If you see any mistakes, do let me know!

Room ⥤ Modern muse

Room service ⥤ neighbour + criminal

“Oh that poor thing.”

Bucky whipped his head in the direction of the voice. It was Mrs. Lockwood, his neighbour on the right.

“Huh?” He didn’t mean to voice out his confusion, but his brain was somewhat short-circuited, barely able to function when his sight was filled with you, and you only.

“That sweet girl over there,” Mrs. Lockwood was referring to you, his sweet neighbour to the left he was staring at, before the old lady came interrupting.

He had been staring for 5, 10 minutes maybe? He swore he wasn’t a pervert, you were just a sight for sore eyes, the healer of the wounds in his soul.

“What about y/n?” He asked, curious to listen to what his neighbour would say about the other neighbour. Also, he was fairly new to the neighbourhood, having just moved in last month, he ought to catch up with the gossip.

“Her boyfriend went missing a few months back, poor girl was devastated. Police suspected it was murder, even suspected y/n!” The old lady shook her head, casting pitying glances at the oblivious girl in the sundress, bathing under the sun with a book in her hand. “She’s such a sweet girl, how could they have suspected her?”

Bucky glanced at you, heart racing when you caught him looking. You shyly waved at him, a small smile plastered on your face hiding the underlying sadness of the loss of your loved one. His hand felt clammy when he raised one of them to wave back, his usual flirty self vanished whenever you were involved in the equation.

“Boy, you are in love aren’t ya,” Mrs. Lockwood teased, “I say go for it. Our lovely y/n definitely needs some lovin’ after what she’d been through and young man, I think you are the right person.” Her eyes crinkled as she patted Bucky encouragingly on the shoulder, like a loving mother cheering up her son.

Bucky, who was usually composed, blushed furiously. That big brain of his still hadn’t regained its functions thus he found himself unable to stop Mrs. Lockwood when she hollered at you.

Clearly immersed in your book, you jumped a little when you heard your name being called.

“Y/n, this young man would love to take you out on a date, what d’ya say?” His eyes widened at the accusation, though it was true that he wanted to date you, he just needed time to gather the guts to ask you out.

He saw you put down your book, walking towards him and Mrs. Lockwood. You were a front yard away from him, shielding the harsh sunlight from your eyes with your hands while leaning onto the fence.

“I’d love to,” you had to speak louder, and Bucky loved your voice as he only heard it only a handful of times now, often you were shy and quiet when you saw him.

“U-uhm, how about Saturday then,” He stuttered like a teenage boy who first received a love letter, suddenly forgetting how to speak, speech lost in the sea of disbelief and excitement, and affection.

You said nothing, only nodding and smiling at him, flashing those pearly whites.

“Great. 6pm. I’ll pick you up,”

“See you soon, James.” He watched as you walked away, a teasing smile on your face before you disappeared into the door. Gosh how he loved the way his name sounded on your lips, and he’d give anything to hear it again, and again.

Saturday came too soon, Bucky was not prepared at all. Well, he had done the reservations for the restaurant he’d planned to bring you to tonight, ironed out the creases and wiped off the non-existent dust on the dress shirt he would be wearing, so why was he nervous?

5:50 pm.

Call him old-fashioned or whatever, he’d prefer early to late and would love to escort you to his car. He stood in front of your porch, palm sweating and if his metal arm could secrete sweats, he was pretty sure it would end up like its counterpart.

You opened the door as soon as he rapped his knuckles on the wooden door, seeming eagerly waiting for him as he was for you.

He took in your outfit, the moderately revealing dress he liked, the one he saw you undress from, through his window countless times.

If it was possible to fall into a deeper love, he would.

The date couldn’t possibly be better than he imagined, it was perfect. Everything was great; the atmosphere of the restaurant, the quality of the food, and most importantly, you.

You were shy at first but opened up fairly quickly, telling him stories about you, and vice versa. You sympathized with him when he told you how he got the metal arm, your fingers grazing the delicate and intricate loops and lines on the metal surface.

His fingers were woven into yours halfway into the dinner, the cool metal fingers of his absently caressing your knuckles as you shared the story about your family, who disappeared mysteriously, then your ex-boyfriend, who went missing 5 months ago, like your family.

It was hard, talking about missing loved ones. Bucky could tell, by the way your hand unconsciously tightened, the lingering sadness in your eyes as you mentioned how happy you were before him. The way your tears were brimming in your eyes, threatening to glide down your face, it wrenched his heart, seeing how broken you were. He would try to pick up every broken piece of you in a heartbeat, mending them back together, fixing you until you were happy again if you would let him in.

He was kind of glad your ex-boyfriend was out of the picture, though it was a selfish thing to say. He desperately wanted to claim you, wanted to be your last and only boyfriend.

He’d been going on dates with you for a few months now. You were perfect, almost too perfect if he would say. You were practically his dream girl, so kind and generous. So sweet and loving. Pretty much everybody in this neighbourhood would agree with him and he sometimes wondered if he really deserved you. A beauty mingling with a beast. No one would ever want to see that, after all, even the beast turned into a handsome prince at the end of the fairytale.

Bucky wondered, if you found out what he did every night after you were asleep or what he took from your closet when you were away, would you still want him? If you found out the beast within him, would you still love him the same?

His thoughts were occupied and it wasn’t until the sharp pain in his fingers that he snapped out of his trance.

“Fuck!” You heard him cursing and went to him, gasping when you saw the streams of blood flowing from the deep cut from two of his fingers.

Hastily reaching out for the clean cloth from one of the drawers, you placed it over the wound, applying pressure on them.

The red quickly seeped through the pristine white cloth, two colours clashing as the red engulfed the white.

Bucky noticed you wincing at the red, gulping at the sight, head slightly turned away. It was obvious you were uncomfortable at the sight of blood, so he took the cloth himself and nudged you to wash the faint hint of blood on your palms.

“Sorry, now you might have to do this alone,” Bucky gestured at the ingredients on the counter, “and sorry for the cloth, blood stains are quite hard to get rid off.”

“Don’t you worry, a little hydrogen peroxide and the cloth will be as good as new,” Bucky let you tend to his wounds and pushed him towards the living room where he would sit at the couch for the next hour while you were busy at the kitchen preparing dinner.

While he was in the living room, he took in the interior of your house. He never got to take a close look, as he always had to sneak in when it was dark. The beige colour walls, cream coloured furnitures, books arranged perfectly on the floating shelves. The pictures and art hung on the clean walls, not one of them is crooked. The square coffee table with only the remote and a display plant on it, and when he shifted himself to sit at the center of the couch, did he realize the coffee table was lined up perfectly in the middle of the TV and the couch.

Bucky’s eyebrows raised, he didn’t depict you as a meticulous person. No wait, whenever he went out with you, you’d arrange the plates to sit between the utensils perfectly. When you get boba, the straws must precisely be in the center of the cup, and if you missed it, your eyebrows would furrow in annoyance subconsciously.

His eyes wandered over to your figure in the kitchen and was not surprised to find you wiping and hanging the cutting board on the ceramic wall, adjusting it with your fingers so it wouldn’t be crooked while waiting for the stew to simmer.

You caught him looking at you and threw a smile at him in which he reciprocated, then continued to let his eyes wander through your living room. This could easily be an IKEA showroom, he thought.

Another week went by, Bucky found himself more and more in love with you, if that was possible in the first place as if he didn’t already dedicate all the space in his heart for you.

You were both in the kitchen again. This time however, he was busy mixing the sugar, flour, and cocoa powder mixture, with you snuggling behind him, arms circling his waist as you watched him do the magic.

He felt sorry for not helping last time so he was making up to you by baking some brownies.

As you both were cleaning up, brownies baking in the oven, Bucky turned to you.

“Hey, I never asked, but what do you do for a living?” He questioned nonchalantly while wiping the huge plastic bowl.

The wet spatula fell from your grip, dropping into the sink of water, droplets of soapy liquid flecked on your shirt.

“O-oh, i’m an artist!” You let out a laugh to conceal your flustered state, “Aspiring artist to be exact.”

“An artist,” he hummed, as if chewing onto the meaning of the word, “could you show me your works?”

Your head whipped towards his direction, mouth parted in surprise. Nobody has ever appreciated your dream. Your family, your friends, your ex-boyfriends, all of them claimed that being an artist would lead you to being unsuccessful, and you deemed to prove them wrong.

“Yes, yes, of course,” you were overjoyed. Abandoning the half-washed utensils, you clasped your hand around his wrist and dragged him to follow you towards the second floor, into a room hidden behind another beige coloured door, where you kept all your works.

Rows of headless mannequins clothed in white dresses painted with red blossoms appeared before him as you pushed open the door.

He was utterly mesmerized. He trailed his gaze across the display, a smile painted his lips as he deduced that every piece of them was unique. No two dresses had the same pattern.

Some had plain red blossoms splattered on it, some had dark red waves littering on the bottom hem; some with brush strokes of red. There was also a different tone of red, bright and dark or somewhat in between.

“Wow, this is just … amazing!” He found himself at a loss for words, “are those blood?”

“Yes, they are.”

“I thought you don’t like blood?” Bucky teased.

“These are animal blood. I’m fine with it as long as it’s not coming out from a human,” you retorted.

He chuckled. Once again admiring the intricate patterns of your works, marvelling at how talented and perfect you were. His heart sank at the thought of the question he frequently found himself asking, how can someone so perfect like you end up with someone less than perfect like him.

You apparently noticed his changed demeanor as you inched yourself closer to pull him into an embrace, placing your chin on his chest, eyes searching for his sad blue ones.

“Are you okay?” He hugged you tighter, sighing.

“I’m fine. I just … I think you’re perfect and you’re everything I've ever wanted. But I'm not sure if I'm perfect enough for you.”

“Oh James, you’re more than enough. I assure you, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted too.”

Bucky felt like his heart was filled to the brim with adoration, butterflies erupted from his stomach. Your assurance was everything to him, keeping his wandering soul anchored and he was grateful for it, grateful for your existence. The more the reason to cage you by his side so you couldn’t ever leave him.

His lips were on yours the next second, his grip on your waist tightened as you deepened the kiss, tongue finding his; busy hands sliding from his stomach to his shoulder.

Both of you were drowning in this ecstasy, unwilling to part away from each other’s touch.

The loud ding of the oven startled the both of you. Momentarily parting from each other, you stared at him with a heated glance. His eyes were hooded, filled with lust, desire.

“Fuck the brownies,” you whispered, molding your soft lips on him once again, the hunger for each other far greater than the stupid brownies, “need you now.”

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice, large hands cupping your bottom as you hopped and hooked your legs behind him, arms instinctively went to his shoulders for support.

He brought the both of you to your room, the one he was all too familiar with, the one with the same cream coloured theme which could definitely pass as another IKEA showroom judging by how perfect the layout was.

The only odd thing that stood out in this far too perfect room was the trail of scratch marks extending from the door frame to the wall outside of the room.

The deep scratch marks were somehow etched deep in his brain, he couldn’t let it go. It felt as if there was a dot of blank ink on a piece of white paper, and even though there was more white than black, you’d only be fixated on the dot of black.

He would ask you about the haunting marks on the wall and your fingers that were tracing patterns on his skin would falter, you’d give him the warm smile he loved while brushing it off saying it was the huge Dobermann your aunt owned which did that.

Even when he was balls deep in you, the vivid image of the scratch marks were there in his head, though you were quick to draw back his attention with a grind on his hips, both of your bodies covered with sheen of perspiration. Strands of your hair sticking to your body, but you pay no care to them as you rocked your hips, chanting his name over and over again like a mantra, like a prayer.

His eyes were on your fucked out state, his grip on you like steel. The cool surface of his metal arm contrasted with your hot flushed body as you chase your high like a traveller chasing the oasis in a desert, desperate for a quench of thirst.

Even when he was chasing the same high, vision blinding with bliss, the marks were still there and this time they were accompanied by the white dresses painted with red, and red only.

Bucky was always a doubtful person. Doubting every single decision he’d ever made. Doubting himself, doubting others. But there was one thing he was certain of, there was something less than innocent lurking underneath your skin. Of course, he was still head over heels for you but he was pretty adamant to find out the sinister in you, hoping it would answer his questions, mainly the recurring image of a certain mark.

Bucky was a lot of things, dumbass , dork, clumsy(per sam), but he was not stupid. Hell, he was far from stupid. Those scratch marks, definitely not the Dobermann.

You were a perfectionist, you couldn’t possibly leave the mark there and acted like nothing happened in the first place. He’d imagine if it was the dog, you’d probably have someone fix the dent the same day, unwilling to allow even a speck of blemish in your flawless house.

Bucky was a lot of things, and being a dumbass was definitely one of them as he was showing up on your porch in the evening unannounced.

He’d considered sneaking in like he used to do but he knew, he saw that you were still in the house. He couldn’t and wouldn’t jeopardize your relationship with him knowing he’d get caught.

He knocked on your door, hearing footsteps paddling, rushing to him.

As you opened the door, your eyes widened at the sight of an awkward Bucky. Although you were quick to throw him an unalarming smile, he still caught the nervousness in you.

There was something off with you. The disheveled hair, thin layer of sweat adorning the crown of your head, unknown wet liquid staining your shirt.

He caught a whiff of the strong smell of chemicals wafting through the door, it smelled a lot like bleach.

“I’m sorry,” he scratched at the back of his neck, “is this not a good time?”

“It’s fine, come on in.”

The smell of bleach invaded his nose the moment he stepped into your house, flooding and overwhelming his senses causing him to wince.

“Were you deep cleaning?”

“Yeah, I accidentally spilled some of the animal blood this morning. Had to use hell lots of hydrogen peroxide to get rid of them. Sorry for the smell.”

“No no, it’s okay. Let me just open the windows and door, okay?” He was getting a little light-headed now, desperately needing some fresh air. “Doll, you need to ventilate every time you use bleach, it’s harmful for your health to inhale all these fumes.”

You blushed at the term of endearment, yet wanting to blame him for not calling you that earlier.

He went over to open the windows, sighing contentedly at the waves of fresh air hitting his face as the wind blew in.

He felt your arms snaking around him, head leaning against his broad back.

“I love you, James. Wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“I love you too.” He turned around and hugged you, his chin propped on your head, not knowing you had a solemn expression on your face.

He’d spent the evening with you, watching TV on the couch with you in his lap. It was so mundane yet he’d never got bored of this, wanting to do this with you for the rest of his life.

Outside the window, the orange and yellow sky faded into darkness.

“Let’s order take out, how about Thai food?”

“I’ll cook,” you kissed him on the lips and got up from his lap before he could reply anything.

“Ok, you need help?” He heard a faint ‘no, it’s fine’ coming out of the kitchen followed by the clanking of pots and utensils.

His neck stretched to peek at your figure in the kitchen, too busy chopping up ingredients to notice he was no longer at the living room.

He made his way down the basement, where the pungent smell of the bleach was still lingering.

The wood creaked as he stepped on the stairs, announcing his arrival to the darkness surrounding the basement. The soft glow of light illuminated the large space, a wall of tins stacking on each other revealed to him. A few easels of different sizes were propped on the wall with several grey aprons hanging beside them.

He walked closer to examine the insane amount of tins. A small label that said Pig blood was stickered on the body of the white tin.

His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. Do people really sell animal blood in metal tins, wouldn’t they go bad?

There were loads of questions in Bucky’s head, questions with answers only you could provide.

He noticed a chest freezer sitting in the corner of the basement and his legs brought him to it before he came to realize. The whole basement was so quiet he could hear the soft ringing in his ears, the racing of his heartbeat amplified as his hand inched towards the lid.

There was nothing in the freezer, to his surprise.

The empty freezer stared back at him, as if mocking his fruitless attempt. He was relieved, or disappointed, he couldn’t tell the difference and there was no point in distinguishing them now since you had nothing to hide. He wasn’t even sure what he was expecting to find in the freezer.

“Babe?” You stood behind him with an apron on, a knife in your hand, a second after he closed the door to the basement.

He leaned against the door frame, hand went to his head, eyes squeezed shut as he pretended he was having a headache.

“Felt dizzy all of a sudden, I was just making my way to the bathroom.”

“Oh, okay. I was just about to tell you dinner's almost ready,” a tooth-rotting smile was plastered on your face.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he watched as you walked away, letting out the breath he’d been holding. His palm was clammy, heart beating rapidly.

“I love you,” You placed your hand on his arm, eyes meeting his.

“I know, doll. I love you too.”

This was seconds before dinner.

“James, I love you.” You whispered, watching him giving you a grin before he stuffed the meatball into his mouth.

“Wow, I'm so loved today. It’s the secon- no, third time you’ve said ‘I love you’ to me today.” He grinned, heart bursting with love. “You know I love you too.”

This was mid-dinner.

“I love you so much, James.”

Bucky was getting suspicious of you. Were you hiding something, perhaps cheating on him? For there were no reasons for you to keep telling him you loved him even though he knew how much you loved him and vice versa.

“I love you,” you kissed his knuckles, “this might be the last time I get to say I love you, James.”

His eyebrows furrowed at your statement, mouth parting to question what you meant. Before he could voice out something, the world faded into nothingness.

A thin film of blurriness clouded his eyes when he opened them, Bucky had this feeling like he was drowning in a swamp and his whole body was bound.

Blinking furiously, he regained his vision. You were sitting on a chair leaning forwards while looking at him endearingly, your elbows propped on your knees, palms supporting your chin.

“Hello, my love,” you were smiling oh so sweetly. The same smile that got him mesmerized and head over heels, except this time he didn’t feel the warm fuzzy feeling exploding in his chest, this time it was the goosebumps crawling on his arms and the chill creeping up his spine.

Now everything made sense, every single of his questions was answered.

You looked down at his body, the one that was once full of life, full of love. You watched as his glassy blue eyes etched with fear quickly reduced into this grey lifeless orbs, still pretty but lacking the element of a beautiful soul.

You weep for him, mourn for him. Mourning the short duration of love shared between the both of you. Mourning for yourself, for falling too hard. Mourning for him who kept you always in his heart.

To be honest, you were a little hesitant to end his life, he was better than the last one. He was perfect, warm, kind, loving, gentle, but not perfect enough. He simply did not reach your expectations, and you, could not bear imperfections, even the slightest. The answer to his downfall was pretty easy, he was too close to the ugly truth. And despite you knowing his love for you outweighs his doubt and fear in you, you simply couldn’t risk it.

Your love for perfection exceeds your love for him.

The melodious music of your ringtone echoed in the ample space of the basement, you brought up your phone to your ears as you answered the call.

“Mrs. Lockwood? Yes. Of course. I did. No no no, I’ll do it for you this time. He would definitely taste delicious I assure you.”

Time to get to work, you sighed as you stood there with a white dress splattered with blood. How artistic, you thought.

You always loved this part of the process, you’d wear the whitest piece of dress you own whenever you work with your projects.

You loved how the blood peppered your clothes, forming blossoms of dark red flowers on the fabric.

You kept every single piece of them, because no two are the same. Every one of them tells a story, of men and women who loved you and who you loved, of those who were once a body with a soul.

Wiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks, you gave Bucky one last loving look and the blade of your butcher knife came in contact with his once pink but now pale skin as you hummed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the basement, forming echoes.

A few blocks away, a baby cried, body covered in mucus. The tiny infant cried, each time louder than the previous, wailing his lungs out, as if mourning. For one soul born, another reaped.

[silviakundera]

My very unofficial official book review for Lord Seventh, now that I've had time to "sit" on it.

Context: I watched 25 eps of Word of Honor before halting to go back and read the novels.

Now my take-aways: On the whole, I truly enjoyed Lord Seventh and at times it moved me emotionally. By the end I was very invested in the protagonist, the Crown Prince (Helian Yi), and Zhou Zishu. The plotline of Jing Beiyuan being reborn and having to deal with all the baggage of his previous 6 life times and the fascinating, fraught relationship w the ex-love of his life... and his decision to still commit himself to supporting the Crown Prince's faction despite all that messy past: fantastic! In another novel, this would be your standard reborn revenge tropes. But that is ABSOLUTELY not at all the dynamic in play here. Best aspect of the novel for me and made it stand out. So many options to walk away cleanly and he never does, until he is certain that the dynasty has been secured. The complicated, deep mutual misunderstanding & distrust between him and Helian Yi... and yet how they never put all that baggage ahead of the duty they feel to the people as a whole... Dedicating themselves to something greater, beyond love, affection, pride, self-satisfaction. Do I admire them? Hell no. These mofos are screwed up and do terrible things. But do I find them compelling af? YES.

"Helian Yi paused, then slowly took a few steps forward. Under the impression that he wanted to say something, Jing Qi leaned over, only to be caught off guard by the other hugging him. A cheek that had been blasted ice-cold by the night wind was pressed close against his neck, as if he was about to be roughly dragged off his steed and firmly forced into Helian Yi’s arms.

The horse took a few tiny steps in place.

Jing Qi was stunned for a second, hand still clutching the reins, and didn’t know how he ought to react. Three hundred years… he had once waited three hundred years just for this hug. Yet, now that he had long refused to wait any longer, he had been put into this awkward position without warning. His shoulders were pulled down low, pushed into the hollow of Helian Yi’s own. It wasn’t the least bit warm, solely causing sorrow to emerge in one’s heart.

If only… if only, in the previous life, you weren’t the Rongjia Emperor, and I wasn’t Prince Nan’ning. "

The relationship between Jing Beiyuan and Zhou Zishu is also so subtly interesting. There is this quiet respect and rapport between them, always. Late night chats and promises to reunite for another drink, another future day. This unspoken understanding of each other so deep that Jing Beiyuan doesn't blame ZZS for bringing forth the charges to set him up for death in the 1st life. tbh if not for watching some WoH first, I probably would have shipped them and hoped for post-canon Get Together fic.

I must admit I just never really got very invested in the romantic subplot in this one. There some nice shippy moments towards the end, when the lil murder teen becomes a safe place for Jing Beiyuan, but they never thrilled me like the couple in Golden Stage, for instance.

I think one problem is, I just finished watching Nirvana in Fire. I was just far more interested in the political plotline and the romance arc was mostly disconnected from it and happening on the sidelines of the action. I have no issues w this narrative choice and it makes thematic sense. Didn't detract from my enjoyment of the novel. It just ended up that I was "ok" with the romance arc. I could see why that's how the protagonist's story ends and I agree it's a happy ending for them. I was satisfied. Just never felt the hype on the canon otp. But I completely see the appeal for others.

I do recommend the novel to anyone who plans to read Faraway Wanderers. He's not the main character but it gives you so much context for where ZZS is coming from and why he would vibe with the Valley Master so well, why he's so lackadaisical about all the chaos and violence happening around him. (And Jing Beiyuan is a WAY more intriguing MC than comes across in Faraway Wanderers. If I'd read that book first, never would have thought I'd love a whole book about that dude lol.)

tmw I'll put together my thoughts on TW 🤔