#I think it captured a lot of the more creepy and tense vibes from the manga that tend to get lost in the anime sometimes

[bold-embrace]

The Eastern Forest

[strangeandforlornbooks]

best books with morally ambiguous narrators!

all y’all’s problematic faves and villains! :) also included are third person narrators but in books with morally ambiguous leads/themes 

Sci-fi

Scythe by Neal Shusterman: in a future free from pain, disease, and war, people can live forever. ‘scythes’ are given the power to decide who lives and who dies to preserve the balance. sad and kinda gives of hunger games vibes, if you like that.

Neuromancer by William Gibson: basically invented the cyberpunk genre. strange and removed protagonists. (a team of computer hackers have to face off against an evil AI). you kind of dislike everyone and suddenly you’re crying over them. one of those trippy sci-fi classics.

The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut: very beautiful and very very sad (same author as slaughterhouse five). the richest man in america has to face a martian invasion. more about free will and bad people doing good things than a plot that makes any kind of sense.

The Man in the High Castle by Philip K Dick: set in an alternate universe where the germans and japanese won world war two. not really like the tv show at all- it’s not an action story, and there’s not really the hope to somehow fix the world that drives a lot of dystopia stories. instead its about how people survive and connect to one another in a hopeless society.

The Scorpion Rules by Erin Bow: a supercomputer convinces the leaders of the world to keep the peace for hundreds of years by taking their children hostage and obliterating any city that disobeys. what happens to the hostage protagonists when war seems inevitable? lots of morally fraught decisions and characters slowly losing their identity. (plus a fun lesbian romance)

Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson: a brilliant mathematician and a dedicated marine fight to keep the ultra secret in world war two. fifty years later,  a tech company discovers what remains of their story. one of the most memorable sequences in the book is a japanese soldier slowly becoming disillusioned with his nation and horrified by the war even as he continues to fight.

Blade Runner by Philip K. Dick: another one of those sci-fi classics that’s not at all like the movie. there is a bounty hunter for robots, though, as well as a weird religion that probably is referencing catholicism and a decaying society with a shortage of pets. kind of a trip.

Wilder Girls by Rory Power: girls trapped in a boarding school on an isolated island must face a creeping rot that affects the animals and plants on the island as well as their own bodies. the protagonists will do anything to survive and keep each other safe. very tense (and bonus lesbian romance whoo)

The Fifth Season by N K Jemisin: three women are gifted with the ability to control the earth’s energy in a world where those who can do so are forced into hiding or slavery. some veryyyy dark choices here but lots of strong female characters.

Historical Fiction

Fingersmith by Sarah Waters: two victorian lesbians fall in love as they plot to betray each other in horrific ways. lots of plot twists, plucky thieves, gothic settings, and a great romance.

Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiwicz: a powerful roman soldier in the time of Nero plots to kidnap a young woman after he falls in love with her, only to learn more about the mysterious christian religion she follows. very melodramatic but some terrific prose. 

All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr: a blind girl in France and a brilliant German boy recruited by the military struggle through the chaos of the second world war. ends with a bang (iykyk.) very sad, reads like poetry.

Boxers by Gene Luen Yang: graphic novel reveals the story of a young boy fighting in the boxer rebellion in early twentieth century china. the sequel, saints, is also excellent. beautifully and sympathetically shows the protagonist’s descent into evil- the reader really understands each step along the way.

Fantasy

Three Dark Crowns by Kendare Blake: three triplets separated at birth, each with their own magical powers, have to fight to the death to gain the throne. lots of fun honestly

Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo: everyone in these books is highly problematic but you love them all anyway. a ragtag game of criminals plan a heist on a magical fortress. some terrific tragic back stories, repressed feelings, and revenge schemes.

The Dark Tower series by Stephen King: idk how to describe these frankly but if you can put up with King’s appalling writing of female characters they’re pretty interesting. fantasy epic about saving the world/universe, sort of. cowboys and prophecies and overlapping dimensions and drug addicts galore.

The Amulet of Samarkand by Jonathan Stroud: lots of fun! a twelve year old decides to summon a demon for his cute lil revenge scheme. sarcastic demon narrator. lighthearted until s*** gets real suddenly.

Elegy and Swansong by Vale Aida: fantasy epic with machiavellian lesbians and enemies to lovers to enemies to ??? to lovers. charming and exciting and lovely characters.

The False Prince by Jennifer Nielsen: an orphan boy must compete with a few others for the chance to impersonate a dead prince. really dark but very tense and exciting and good twists.

The Grace of Kings by Ken Liu: fantasy epic. heroes overthrow an evil empire and then struggle as the revolution dissolves into warring factions. interesting world building and three dimensional characters, even if they only have a small part.

Circe by Madeline Miller: the story behind the witch who turns men into pigs in the odyssey. madeline miller really said, i just used my classics degree to write a beautiful gay love story and now im going to write a powerful feminist retelling because i can. queen. an amazing and satisfying book that kills me a lil bit because of the two lines referencing the song of achilles.

Heartless by Marissa Meyer: the tragic backstory for the queen of hearts in alice in wonderland. a little predictable but very fun with a compelling protagonist

A Song of Ice and Fire (Game of Thrones) by George RR Martin: ok I know we all hate GRRM and rightfully so but admittedly these books do have some great characters and great scenes. they deserve better than GRRM though. also he will probably never finish the books anyway....

A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket: not really fantasy but not really anything else either. plucky, intelligent, and kind children fight off evil plots for thirteen books until suddenly you realize the world is not nearly as black and white as you thought. 

Classics

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier: gothic romance!! a new wife is curious about the mysterious death of her predecessor in a creepy old house in the British countryside...good twists and lovely prose.

A Separate Peace by John Knowles: not really morally ambiguous but one awful decision suddenly has awful consequences and certain people are haunted by guilt forever.... really really really beautiful and really really really sad. boys in a boarding school grow up together under the shadow of world war two.

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy: while imperial russia slowly decays a beautiful young woman begins a destructive affair. a long book. very russian. the ending is incredibly tense and well written.

Lord of the Flies by William Golding: I think you know the plot to this one. the prose is better than you remember and the last scene is always exciting.

And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie: one by one, the guests on an island are slowly picked off. one of Christie’s darkest mysteries- no happy ending here! very tense and great twists.

Contemporary

The Secret History by Donna Tartt: inspired the whole dark academia aesthetic. college students get a little too into ancient greece and it does not end very well. lovely prose but I found the characters unlikable.

Honorable Mentions

The Dublin Saga by Edward Rutherford: has literally a billion protagonists, but some of them are morally ambiguous ig? follows a few families stories’ from the 400s ad to irish independence in the 20s. beautifully captures the weight and movement of irish history.

Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer: how morally ambiguous can you be if you’re, like, eleven? a lot if you’re a criminal genius who wants to kidnap a fairy for your evil-ish plan apparently!

Redemption by Leon Uris: literally my favorite novel ever. the sequel to Trinity but can stand alone. various irish families struggle through the horrors of world war one. the hero isn’t really morally ambiguous, but the main theme of the novel is extremely bad people suddenly questioning their choices and eventually redeeming themselves. sweeping themes of love, screwed up families, redemption, and patriotism.

The Lymond Chronicles and House of Niccolo by Dorothy Dunnett: heroes redeem themselves/try to get rich/try to save their country in early renaissance Europe. if I actually knew what happened in these books I'm sure it would be morally ambiguous but its too confusing for me. in each book you spend at least a third convinced the protagonist is evil, though. lots of exciting sword fights, tragic romances, plot twists, and kicking english butt.

Bonus: Protagonist is less morally ambiguous and more very screwed up and sad all the time

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt: you know this one bc its quoted in all those quote compilations. basically the story of how one horrible event traumatizes a young man and how he develops a connection to a painting. really really really good.

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro: hard to describe but strange... not an action novel or a dystopia really but sort of along those lines. very hopeless.

[andwhatdostarsdobest]

Take a chance | Part one [t.h]

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: for this chapter, none I don’t think. It’s all set up and secret pining. 

Summary: Making friends is hard enough, let alone when you have a massive crush on one of them. But what do they say, things always have a way of working themselves out in the end.

Word Count: 2.8k

Prompt: ‘Take a chance. Live a little.’

That picture has mad boyfriend vibes.  This was meant to be my submission for @madmadmilk summer writing challenge but whoops life happened and its now September... This is part 1 of five, I think. I haven’t posted in a while and I’ve had this in my drafts so thought i would just post something. 

happy reading, lovelies

masterlist part 2

You always loved people watching, wondering where these people had been and where they were headed. Each person has their own life, their own problems and their own people that they care about, trying to figure all that out had become a sort of game to you. You imagined the man walking past in a clean-cut navy suit, with a briefcase in hand and a disgruntled expression, had realised he had picked up his partner’s bag by mistake, and was now power walking to get to his next meeting after collecting the right notes. The group of teenagers, school shirts untucked, and ties pulled loose, laughing hysterically because one of them had called their English teacher Mum and the others wouldn’t let it go. The woman in her 50’s wearing the bright scarlet coat with the fur trim, on her way back from a meeting with the executors of her husbands will, who died under mysterious circumstances.

Okay, that last one may be a bit of a stretch, but it was fun to theorise about the exotic lives people lead. Especially when your own was far from that definition.

Drawing your attention away from the people, the glass of the café window came back into view, condensation coating patches of it. You had drawn a small smiley face in it earlier, although as the droplets dripped from the eyes and mixed with the curve of the smile, it didn’t look so happy anymore. That felt weirdly more accurate though.

“What do you think, Y/N?”

“Y/N?”

Two voices filtered into your subconscious, “huh.”

You turned your head back to the two boys in front of you. One brown haired and one blond. Both irritatingly handsome.

The brown-haired boy tilted his head, “are you alright, Y/N? You’re being quiet today.”

The blond boy chuckled, “she’s just people watching, aren’t you.”

You had only known Tom and Harrison for three months, but you were always surprised by how much they remembered about you. Even the smallest details. They were annoyingly good about remembering those. You tried to keep up, listening intently every time they mentioned something new about themselves, but they seemed to know stuff you were sure you had never told them. You weren’t sure how they were doing it. You suspected witchcraft.

“Because she thinks they are more interesting than the people right in front of her,” Harrison continued.

“Hey, I don’t think that,” you retorted.

“Oh no, I’m sure,” Harrison said, quickly followed by a wink. He often needed to make sure people knew he was joking, his sarcasm often got him in trouble.

You couldn���t help but blush slightly, warmth spreading across the apple of your cheeks. It’s not like you fancied Harrison, you just weren’t used to it. You weren’t exactly the most promiscuous of people. At least you could maintain eye contact with Haz though, if it was Tom that winked, your brain would have flatlined for a few seconds.  

Tom’s fingers curled around his mug, his bruised and calloused knuckles prominent against the white ceramic.

Oh my god, Tom’s hands. The dreams you had had about those; entangled in your hair, squeezing slightly too hard on your hip, entwined with your own. Your breath hitched just thinking about it.

He brought the cup up to his mouth, pausing mid-way.

“Well she wouldn’t be wrong, Haz. I know tax reports more entertaining than you.”

Tom instantly erupted in laughter, his eyes crinkling and his tongue sticking out. He pulled his neck back into him as his body rocked. Haz landed a punch on his shoulder, coffee sloshing up the sides of the mug from the movement.

“I’m so sorry, Movie Star, what was that?” Haz stared down his best friend.

Tom was still shaking from laughter, his coffee dangerously close to spilling on his lap.

The boys had these moments when it was blindingly clear they were completely comfortable around each other. They said things that you would only dare say to your best friend. They were totally in sync. You loved watching them, feeling free to truly be themselves. Especially as they spent a lot of time in the public eye and you could sense they were concealing something, holding themselves back partially. But it did feel like just that, you were watching, a spectator at their best friend show and for the most part you didn’t mind at all. But have you ever tried to third wheel a pair of best friends, it’s worse than hanging out with any couple. They are just so many inside jokes and little looks, memories and experiences that you don’t understand, you’re not a part of. Sometimes you can feel a little lost but that’s natural. You know it will come with knowing them longer.

You didn’t ever want to interrupt their friendship. You just weren’t sure how to act in moments like these. You tended to sit back and let them relish it.

Maybe you should get involved or maybe you shouldn’t. You were never good at making decisions.

“Don’t call me, Movie Star,” Tom replied, his laugh now coming out low and slow.

Haz turned in his seat to face Tom, the leather rustling underneath him.

“Is, Movie Star, not good enough anymore? I’m so sorry,” he placed his hand on his chest, “what would you prefer? Mr Holland, Spider-man, a god among men?”

“Well, I am Spider-man so yeah, that works,” Tom raised his eyebrows and brought his mug to his lips, sipping gently at the coffee whilst looking into Haz’s eyes.

The cheeky shit.

Harrison rolled his eyes, “the big man.”

You watched them play fight, noting the slight smirk on both of their faces throughout, signalling they didn’t mean any harm by what they were saying.

God, Tom looked hot when he smirked.

“Care to weight in, Y/N,” Tom directed at you, a mischievous look behind his eyes.

“It’s so hard to be boring when you’re a movie star,” you say, sarcasm evident in your tone.

“Hey, you can’t both gang up on me,” Tom said, placing his mug back on the table and then combing his hand through his hair. You watched his movements intently, the veins on his hands tensed against his skin.

You caught yourself before the staring became weird and uncomfortable, forcing your eyes away from the beautiful boy and focusing on the small vase of pink flowers in the middle of the table. If you could, you would watch Tom for hours. Watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way he would drink from a bottle without it ever touching his lips, watch the muscles in his back shift as he stretched at the end of the film. You weren’t sure if this was borderline creepy but there was something about him that was so entrancing. Somehow everything he did was able to capture and keep your attention. You knew you weren’t the only one either. You saw the way other people looked at him when he walked in a room or engaged them in conversation. Not that you were jealous, he wasn’t yours to be jealous over.

Can’t help but wish he was.

Tom was not what you expected. Maybe that’s why you couldn’t get him out of your mind. He intrigued you in a way no one had in a really long time.

In a really really long time.

“Anyone else hungry? Think I’m going to get a snack,” Tom said.

He pushed himself out of his chair and faced you and Haz.

“I’m offering,” he added.

Haz placed his hand on his stomach knitting his brows, trying to determine if he was hungry or not.

“Nah, I’m alright, mate,” he said.

Tom turned to you, “Y/N, can I tempt you with some food?”

“Not hungry, but you can get me another drink,” you replied.

Tom beamed, “sure, same again?”

“Yes, please.”

Tom patted his pocket, checking his wallet was still there and then headed towards the counter.

You settled back into your chair, sighing heavily.

You wished you could be as relaxed around Tom as you were with Harrison. A big part of you fizzled with a nervous energy when he was around, although you never realised until he left when you felt your shoulders drop and you stopped grinding your teeth.

But then I guess you didn’t have a thing for Harrison.

“So, how have you been, Y/N?” Harrison asked.

“Not too bad, uni has been hectic but only a few weeks left now.”

“Did you manage to get your final assignment finished? Last I heard was you spamming me with messages saying how close to death you were.” His lips turned up into a small smile.

You chuckled.

“Yeah, I finished, thank god. I think I started to lose my mind for a bit there but it’s all done now.”

“Good to hear, is that all your assignments done now?” Haz questioned.

“Got a couple left but they are practically done so I’m not too worried.” You picked up your mug and drained the last few drops of your coffee, ready for the one Tom was getting you.

“Now that you’re finished with uni, does that mean we will be seeing you a lot more, then? You’ll stop being so boring and staying in all the time.” Haz asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Hey, I’m not being boring, I have work to do,” you countered, your mouth hanging open in mock offense.

“So, you say…” he continued to tease.

You picked up a crumpled-up napkin from the table and flung it in his direction, but it never reached him. Instead it fluttered back down to the table, only causing more laughter to erupt from his body.

“Look,” you began, trying to regain some of your composure, “not all of us can rely on our unnecessarily good looks to get us jobs.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Haz, you’re a model, that’s literally your job.” Now you’re the one shaking with laughter.

“Fuck, yeah, you got me there.”

You brought your hand up to your face, covering your mouth, trying to stifle the laughs. Harrison grabbed his drink- not being a fan of coffee he had gone for a coke- and unscrewed the cap, taking a swig. Even with the bottle covering most of his face you could see the pink wash over his cheeks.

A faint shadow casted over Haz, you looked up and saw Tom. He was balancing a tray, laden with food and drink on one hand, whilst trying to shove his wallet into his pocket with the other. The tray wasn’t lying even on his hand and hot liquid trickled down the side of the mugs. You jumped up taking the tray from him and set in down on the table. When you looked back up at him he greeted you with a warm smile, crinkles forming around his eyes.

Tom looked between you and Haz, titling his head slightly.

“I feel like I just missed something,” he said.

“Oh, nothing much, just me being an div,” Haz said.

“Just the usual then, mate,” Tom snickered.

“Exactly.”

Haz jumped up, “here mate, take my seat.” He wriggled past the low table and stood next to Tom.

“Wait, where are you going?” you questioned.

“I’ve got that casting call remember.” Haz whipped his jacket out from the seat just before Tom sat on it. He walked around to where you were gaping at him and planted a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Panic set in, it wasn’t often that you were left alone with Tom, usually you could count on someone else to be a buffer to your anxiety. When you were alone you were worried that he would finally catch on how you feel, there is only so long you can stare at someone without talking before it becomes weird. Having a crush on a friend can be impossible at times. It’s like you forget how to act around them, suddenly everything becomes a what did they mean by that?  Are they flirting? No, surely not, but what if they are? What if they think you’re flirting? There is already an established connection there and you don’t want to disturb the equilibrium between you but then everything they do takes your breath away. It feels like too much of a risk.

It wasn’t particularly a problem at the start, you always thought Tom was attractive, but it takes you time to get to know someone. You must know who they are as a person before you start to crush on them. But then you got to know him.

What could you do though? You wanted to be his friend. If nothing else came from it (and you were almost certain nothing would) you still wanted to be his friend.

“What no kiss for me?” Tom teased his friend.

Haz brought his hand to his open mouth, “oh, I’m sorry darling, please forgive me.”

He leaned over and kissed the top of Tom’s curls.

Tom held Haz’s chin, “I can’t stay mad at that face.”

All three of you let out breathy laughs.

“Alright I really gotta go now.”

Haz slung his bag onto his shoulder, “don’t you two kids have too much fun without me. Actually, forget that, it’s impossible to have too much fun without me.”

Tom shoved his friend light-heartedly, “alright, get lost.”

Now the two of you were alone, you took a shaky sip of coffee.

Tom leaned back in his chair, spreading his body fully out, his feet sliding underneath the table. You both settled into silence for a few moments whilst sipping your drinks.

You knew you needed to sort your feelings out. You couldn’t go on like this forever. Maybe you should tell Tom but then what would he think? What would Haz think? You valued them both so much as friends, the thought that that could all be stripped away was scary. And there was the being vulnerable thing, which had never been your forte. Laying yourself bare like that, waiting for someone else’s response sounded terrifying.

That was a problem for another day though, for now it wouldn’t be so bad if you watched the way Tom’s fingers flexed around his mug and the way his tongue glided over his bottom lip after he took a bite of food, right?

“Oh hey, Y/N,” Tom said through a mouth full, “if you’re free tomorrow.”

He swallowed down the sandwich.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come over, we could watch a movie or something, order some food.”

Tom always got distracted when watching films, checking his phone every half an hour, which would usually bother you a lot. But you could never find it in yourself to get mad at him. Besides you liked showing him your favourites and watching his reactions at pivotal moments, when he was watching at least.

“Yeah, sure, sounds fun. That film I was telling you about just came out.”

You waggled your eyebrows at him, sinking into your chair.

“Perfect,” he took a swig of coffee, looking at you over the rim, “it’s a date.”

What? A date? Hahahah, what? He doesn’t mean an actual date. It’s just a figure of speech, yeah just a figure of speech.

“Uhhh.” You tried to scrabble for a semblance of thought.

“Harrison?” you muttered, your brain still processing.

“Huh,” Tom raised an eyebrow.

“I mean Harrison is going to be there too, right?”

“Oh no, Haz is going out tomorrow.”

He noted the dumbfounded look on his face.

“If you don’t want to come then-” he trailed off.

“No, no, I do,” you chimed in. “I do,” you whispered to yourself.

Tom perked up at that, “great, I’ll text you a time later or something.”

“Yeah.”

What is going on? He had never invited you to hang out alone with him before. Best not to panic. Oh who are you kidding, you wouldn’t be able to stop panicking.  

This was just two friends hanging out together, right? It had to be.

But then he did call it a date and you had never heard him call a casual hang out a date before.

No, no, no. You’re being silly, reading too much into this, it definitely wasn’t a date. Why would Tom Holland, who could have any girl ask you out on a date? It just wasn’t plausible. No, this wasn’t a date.

Then why did he call it a date. Guess you had a date with Tom Holland tomorrow?

Fuck.

Tagging some mutuals who may be interested below:  @tomhollandthirst @uglypastels @spidey-pal @spideyfield @onedustyboi @h-osterfield @starkravingparker @mysteryavengers @aw-hawkeye

[freedom-shamrock]

Subtle Valse Musette - Chapter 5

Also on AO3 Chp 1   Chp 2   Chp 3   Chp 4   Chp 5   Chp 6 Marichat May day # 28 - hostage situation

 This chapter includes intimidation, sass, a non graphic fight scene, and the phrase "moth fucker."

Initially, the only thing Marinette was aware of, was how dry her mouth felt.  After a couple of moments licking her lips and not finding any improvement she realized she couldn't move much.  She let out a groan of annoyance, and it echoed in the dark. She blinked her gritty eyes, wishing she could rub them, and tried to take stock of her situation.  

She appeared to be tied to a chair, and it wasn't a nice comfortable chair, but firm wood. She could still feel her feet and hands, but they were starting to get a little prickly.  Her neck was stiff from her head lolling to the side and she rocked it a bit to try to ease the muscles. The room was dark and disturbingly quiet. She tried to remember what had happened, where she'd been before whatever this was had happened.  She recalled her morning clearly. Breakfast at the dining hall, her history of textiles class. She wasn't sure about lunch. Was today the day of her big meeting with Mr. Agreste? Had she even made it? If she missed it, she was going to beat the crap out of whoever was responsible.

She took a deep breath to push down the panic rising in her chest.  She'd obviously been abducted or captured by someone. She pushed her ear against her shoulder, relieved to feel her miraculous stones safely where they belonged.  She had to assume Tikki was hiding, biding her time until they had a good chance. She was clever in a bind and would be on hand to help Marinette when the right moment presented.

There was a mechanical shushing noise, and a low purple light came on around the edges of the room, letting her get a better feel for the size of the place.  The room filled with an eerie fluttering sound. "Are you quite awake over there, Ms. Dupain-Cheng?" a man's voice asked. It was cold and haughty, and while it reminded her rather eerily of Adrien's father, she knew this voice.  She'd heard it when she and Chat Noir faced the akuma face of Hawk Moth at the Eiffel Tower during their first mission.

"What?"  She looked up and flinched.  Hawk Moth stood before her. A vision of gray and purple.  Instead of a simple domino mask like Ladybug, Chat, and Rena, he wore full face coif armor, and the effect was disturbing.  "Who are you? Where am I?" She was freaked out, but as someone who had faced akumas and horrible situations for years, she hadn't frozen in fear, unable to consider her options.

He grinned, which only made him look creepier.  "Surely you know the answer to that question," he drawled.

His entertainment at her expense brought up a rage that shoved aside her initial fear.  She glared at him. "I think you underestimate the strange costumes I've seen. You could be Hawk Moth's latest fashion disaster.  You're giving off the vibe of a badly managed sex dungeon refugee with a butterfly fetish. I guess there's a chance you're Hawk Moth himself.  But seriously, have you seen some of the things the more artsy theaters do?"  She'd helped design and create more than a few artsy theater costumes.  She shuddered, remembering burlap and sequins. "I'm kind of leaning in the butterfly kink direction at the moment, so you should probably clarify."

He scowled at her.  "I'm not sure you realize the precarious nature of your position, Ms. Dupain-Cheng."  His cool voice held a warning.

"Obviously."  She channeled Chloe Bourgeois and rolled her eyes.  "I just woke up in a dark room, tied to a hard chair, with no memory beyond lunch.  I'm kind of missing some critical information here."

Even with the mask, she could see his jaw clench.  "So instead of asking like a civilized human, you thought an attitude would help?"

She cocked one eyebrow.  "Have you not looked at yourself in a mirror in that getup?"  She closed her eyes and sighed. "I was trying to speak in a way a butterfly fucker would understand."  She paused. "No judgement, by the way. You do you. Or do your creepy flock of butterflies.  Whatever works."

His eyes were narrowed and angry.  "I am Hawk Moth. My akuma obey my commands; I do not have relations with them."

"Sure."  She intentionally sounded unconvinced.  "Are you going to akumatize me then?" she asked.  "Send me out to fail to retrieve the miraculous, only to be cured by Chat Noir and Ladybug?"  She shrugged, as much as was possible with her bindings. "Have at it. The sooner you slap me in one of your hideous costumes, the sooner I can get back to my day."  She was pretty sure it wouldn't work, but it was worth a try.

He turned his back on her for a moment before poking at something in his pocket.  A television screen on an arm slid out of the wall nearest her. "Please do enjoy the news."

It was a recorded broadcast from earlier in the day.  Nadja Chamack reported live at the Eiffel Tower as a large cloud of black and purple butterflies coalesced into the shape of Hawk Moth's head.  "Heroes of Paris," the mockery of a human face spoke with that same cold haughtiness. "You will all provide me your miraculous within the next two hours.  I'm through with your games. Chat Noir, I advise you to talk sense into your companions if you ever wish to see your darling friend Marinette again. Ladybug, there will be no negotiation. Your time starts now."

So he didn't realize he had Ladybug; that was promising.  How did Hawk Moth even know that Marinette knew Chat? Alya was the only person she'd told.  It didn't make sense. She decided to stretch out on a limb. "Uh, Hawk Man," she called, looking at him as he gazed out his butterfly-leaded window.  She saw his back tense. "I think you got some bad intel."

"Hawk Moth , not Hawk Man," he snapped.

"Fine, Hawk Moth fucker," she amended.

He whipped his head around to glare at her.

"I'm not friends with Chat Noir," she explained.  "I mean, I'd love to be, don't get me wrong. He is my favorite hero, and that guy can fill out a cat suit, if you know what I mean."  She figured it helped sell the lie because her Kit-cat was hot as hell and she was not blind to that.

"He's rescued you several times," Hawk Moth pointed out, unconvinced.

She rolled her eyes again.  "Yeah. Along with most of Paris.  And to be fair, you akumatized most of my classmates, so I have had a bit more need of being rescued than the average Parisian."

His eyes narrowed.  "You're working on hero themed designs for Paris' greatest fashion house."

The press release had made her abruptly popular at school, mostly with classmates who thought she could get them an in with the elusive Gabriel Agreste.  "Yeah. Lots of designers have done the same."

Hawk Moth took two steps closer.  "You got Chat Noir's approval on the first set of designs."

It was true, but now that he was mentioning it, she recalled meeting with Mr. Agreste.  It was hazy, but there. He'd been the only person she'd given that detail to, thinking it would lend her designs credibility.  "That's true, but it still doesn't mean we're friends. It's not hard to put out a call for one of the heroes. The Ladyblog has a whole section dedicated to such requests."  She shook her head. "I'm not nearly as high a bargaining chip as you think I am."

"So you're telling me you're worthless?" he asked in a low voice that dripped danger.  He gave a little tug on his cane, separating it into a sabre and sheath.

"I'm not worthless," she corrected.  This was definitely not the direction she wanted things to go while she was still tied up.  "But I'm not this… what did you call me? Darling friend?" She shook her head again. She felt sudden warmth in her hands.  Her bonds had come slightly loose, and something was nudging her fingers. She'd never been so relieved to feel Tikki's touch.

The leaded glass shattered, shards scattering across the floor as Chat Noir crashed through the window feet first.  His arc brought his heels into a perfect collision with Hawk Moth's shoulder, throwing the older man across the room, his sabre sliding well out of reach.  Chat snarled, sounding considerably more feral than she'd ever seen him, even as Ladybug. He seemed bigger, too.

Marinette pulled her hands free while Tikki magiced knots on her feet.  By the time she was free, Chat had somehow managed to pin Hawk Moth to the floor, roaring into the villain's face.  He was definitely bigger, with longer shaggier hair. The spikes on his tail whistled as it lashed through the air, a visual representation of his anger.  

"Easy Chat Noir," Carapace called as he leaped through the window, closely followed by Rena Rouge.  "You've caught him. No need to do more." His voice was gentle, but his green and gold eyes held concern.

Chat Growled at his ally.

"Stick with the plan Chat," Rena reminded, moving toward Marinette.  "Are you okay? Let's get you out of here," she suggested.

Marinette dodged the hand her best friend's alter ego held out and approached Chat Noir.  "I'm okay, Kit-cat," she said quietly. "You've saved me."

He looked up at her, his pupils a tighter slit than she was used to, and his mouth set in a grimace to accommodate very sharp teeth.  What had happened to him?

Hawk Moth screamed below him and Marinette realized Chat was digging his claws into the man's shoulders, piercing the hideous suit and the flesh beneath it.

She reached out to brush her fingers along Chat's jaw.  "It's okay. I'm safe." When and how did he get a transformation upgrade?  She could see that he was still her Chaton, but wow. He'd gone from overgrown house cat to a panther, bordering on terrifying.  "Let me help you."

He let out a slow breath and nodded.  With that, the tension she felt coming off the rest of the team dropped noticeably.  They weren't used to this Chat either.

She looked down at Hawk Moth, critically assessing him the same way she would search for an akumatized item.  She reached down and plucked off the butterfly brooch at his neck. It immediately transformed into a button pin, and a wave of purple light washed over Hawk Moth to reveal Gabriel Agreste, Chat's claws still buried in his shoulders.

Chat Noir lowered his face to the other man's and let out a roar that shook the room, sending the shards of glass tinkling and scattering.

"Kit-cat?" Marinette said quietly.  "Let the horrible man go." She was half surprised when he obeyed.

Chat straightened up and rubbed his cheek against hers, filling the room with a rumble that rivaled most cars in volume.

Rena came over with the ropes that had previously bound Marinette to a chair, and tied Mr. Agreste's feet together.  "In a perfect world, I'd want the A team here for this," she said, standing up but not getting too much closer to Marinette or Chat.  "But we haven't been able to reach Ladybug all evening, and Chat's clearly in no condition to meet with the police or the press." She looked conflicted, and Marinette was pretty sure she wanted to bring her friend home safe.

"Chat, can you bring Marinette home?" Carapace asked slowly, stepping into Chat's field of vision.  "I kind of think you two have some stuff to talk about."

Marinette frowned at that ominous statement.  "What do you mean?" she asked.

Chat growled at Carapace, who simply raised his eyebrows.  "Do not go there, dude," he chastised, before looking at Marinette.  "It's his business to tell you." He gestured to the broken window with one green gloved hand.  "The police are on their way, dude. If you can get her home safely, I suggest you do that now. She's probably hungry and tired."

"Mari… Marinette?" Rena said quickly.  "Before you go to bed, try to jot down anything you can remember from today so you'll have it for the investigation.  One of us will be by with the name and contact information of a good trauma therapist tomorrow. Tonight, just do what feels safe and comforting, okay?"

Marinette nodded, feeling bad for her friend, being forced to split her focus between her job as a superhero and her role as Marinette's bestie.  "Thank you." She looked at each of them in turn. "For saving me and for taking down Hawk Moth."

Carapace shook his head.  "We were totally backup. You and Chat mostly took care of it yourselves.  And we appreciate the help." He winced. "Ladybug might kill us later, but you're safe.  Paris is safe, and that's the really important stuff."

Marinette glanced back at Gabriel.  "Someone should go see Adrien," she said.  "He's an old friend of mine, and… I'm worried how he'll handle this."  She didn't like thinking about that. "Tell him he can come to me or my parents if he needs anything."  Chat purred again, pressing his face to hers.

"I'll go see him when we're done with the police," Carapace said.  

Chat scooped Marinette up.  "Home."

"Yes please."  She felt her adrenaline crashing and let herself sag against him.

This started as a 30 minute speed write, but I hit the 5 minute warning timer and realized the only way to finish it properly was to take the time to do so. And I wasn't able to wrap it up until this morning.

One more chapter to come on this story, probably tomorrow (hoping to wrap up both remaining Marichat May stories tomorrow).

[fiendishthingee]

“Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places...”

I was thinking of certain scary movies I revisit around this time of year and why, and ended up writing some stuff below.

The Dead Zone (1983, Dir. David Cronenberg)

This one isn't strictly horror but captures the bleak, wintry New England vibe of early Stephen King perfectly, and has what is to my mind Christopher Walken's most moving performance. One of the few times Cronenberg has cared less about disturbing you or ramming a philosophical point home than in using a solid narrative to explore the emotional experience of a man caught up in an extraordinary situation. One of those films that deepens in your mind the more you live with it.

The Haunting (1963, Dir. Robert Wise)

Shot widescreen in gorgeous black and white, this one is one of the crown jewels of haunted house pictures. From the first moments it has a rich sense of foreboding, like a whisper that sends chills down your spine. Great performances, especially from Julie Harris as a young woman who was never quite right slowly going insane.

The Spiral Staircase (1946, Dir. Robert Siodmak)

A small gem from the 40's, in which a young mute woman is terrorized by a shadowy killer in a big house during a thunderstorm (do these films exist in any other conditions?). Small town scares with a bit of a noir feel, and a very creepy score. One that you see and instantly calls to the part of your mind that remembers that one time you ran home a little faster as the sun went down, a breeze kicked up, and you were just sure there was something moving back there in the shadows.

Frankenstein (1931, Dir. James Whale)

An obvious choice, but no less incredible because of it. I deeply love the first batch of Universal monster films because of how simple and pure and cinematic they are. Limited production values but MASSIVE amounts of atmosphere and feeling. Some people might feel they are dated but I think love them even more because of that. I love history, and the dark corners of these pictures carry a sense of not just film history, but of the old world itself, and the rhythms it had before it was overrun with technology. Terrific performances by Boris Karloff and Colin Clive, plus a very evocative and theatrical "introduction" before the film begins.

The Bride of Frankenstein (1935, Dir. James Whale)

Same as above, though this is a much more polished, eccentric and entertaining film. James Whale had free reign to do what he wanted, and he cut loose, aided by a gorgeous Franz Waxman score and indelible work by Karloff and Clive (again), Elsa Lanchester and Ernest Thesiger (whose prissy Dr. Pretorious is one for the ages).

The Mummy (1932, Dir. Karl Fruend)

A different type of monster, but just as eerie and surreal. Another of my longtime fascinations is the culture of ancient Egypt (don't get me started on "Land of the Pharaohs" or "The Ten Commandments"), which this quick film indulges along with a dash of the inherent creepiness that was completely missing (IMHO) in any of that stuff Brendan Fraser did. Again, the stilted nature of some dialogue and performance is all part of the allure, making it all feels so alien as to fit the mood of the story perfectly.

The Innocents (1961, Dir. Jack Clayton)

Another black and white widescreen beauty, this one a more subtle, ethereal ghost story centered on a pair of children that a well meaning but naive nanny (Deborah Kerr) has been hired to look after. Buried secrets are uncovered and dark forces unleashed, but in a much more subtle and emotional way (for a modern equivalent, look at something like "The Others").  The use of shadow and space here will make your knees buckle in spots, and the general aura of uneasiness will raise the hairs on your neck.

The Changeling (1980, Dir. Peter Medak)

George C. Scott loses his wife and daughter in an accident, then moves into a large, foreboding mansion in Seattle to focus on his musical compositions and recovering emotionally. Obviously, things don't go as well as planned. The trappings of the haunted house genre are given a real emotional grounding, and the backstory feels organic and engrossing rather than just an excuse to throw in loud noises. Wonderfully acted, designed and photographed, a quiet nail biter.

Something Wicked This Way Comes (1983, Dir. Jack Clayton)

Though a bit Disneyfied, this one is still a perennial because of how it captures that mixture of wonder and fear that Ray Bradbury's work had, pitting ordinary people up against sinister forces closing in on the spaces we consider the safest (in this case, a Midwestern town where the only thing that changes are the seasons) and crystallizing the moment when a parent realizes how little power they have to protect their kids. Driven by two wonderful performances, from Jason Robards (weary and homespun) and Jonathan Pryce (deliciously malevolent), this film has a genuine feel for small town life, the way that autumn can seem both hopeful and menacing, and the perils of both wanting to grow up too fast and wanting to be young again.

Salem's Lot (1979, Dir. Tobe Hooper)

The first thing that I remember absolutely scaring the shit out of me as a kid was a moment in this TV production involving nails scratching a child's window in the middle of the night. I won't say more about THAT, but I will say that despite this being made for late 70's television, with all of the restrictions inherent to that time, it's still pretty damn creepy, which is both a testament to Stephen King's original book and to the level of skill and atmosphere Tobe Hooper was able to give it. The depth of creepiness and history isn't as rich as in the book, but there is an approximation of the story's eccentric sprawl that draws you in, plus the eccentric, nostalgic vibe you get from late 70's TV.

Go To The Head of the Class (from "Amazing Stories") (1986, Dir. Robert Zemeckis)

A spooky, spirited lark made just after "Back to the Future" became huge. Nothing ground breaking, just a fast, funny goof made with Zemeckis' characteristic visual spark for Spielberg's mid 80's TV show and featuring a wonderfully cracked performance by Christopher Lloyd pitched somewhere between Doc Brown and Judge Doom (roles he played on either side of this one).

Curse of the Demon (1957, Dir. Jacques Tourneur)

The fact that my own family was menaced by Satanists (angry at my father for hauling one of their leaders into jail) when I was 9 probably has a lot to do with why I respond to this film, in addition to the general air of menace and atmosphere that Tourneur was great at (see "Cat People" and "Out of the Past"). Concerning the curse put on a man who debunks cults by the nefarious leader of one, this is a quick, creepy psychological ride with a classy script that doesn't scrimp on jolts.

Horror of Dracula (1958, Dir. Terrence Fisher)

Innumerable vampire films litter the history of scary movies, and there are certainly some that may have more ingenuity and pizazz than this one. But something about this early Hammer film, with its chilly, heightened gothic atmosphere and a sense of reality being peeled away in front of your eyes, sticks with you. It may be Terrence Fisher's brisk, efficient skill for building horror, or it may be the iconic performances of Peter Cushing and the great Christopher Lee. Or it may just be that particular, peculiar English sense of impending doom these films have. I first saw this one on during an AMC marathon (before they ever had commercials) hosted by the director of the next film on this list, and it's easy to understand how it spoke to his own feeling for the inevitability of a malevolent force slowly closing in on you.

The Thing (1982, Dir. John Carpenter)

Cold, stark and unsparingly tense, I saw this at a drive in when I was 7, and it sunk its teeth into me before I ever knew who John Carpenter was. The sense of isolation and foreboding built into the Antarctic location extends to the feeling of the direction, acting, photography and even the musical score (a mix of Ennio Morricone and Carpenter himself). At its core is the idea that you can't trust anything, whether it's the physical elements around you, the man sitting beside you or even your own sense of self. The opening sequence, of a dog being chased by a helicopter in the snow, is just gorgeous and evocative, and Dean Cundey's photography throughout is lithe and lurking. I think this film is so powerful for me because it came at a very formative time, the period between 8 and 11 where I was developing an understanding of the larger forces in the world that were not benevolent, that did not have any compassion, and did in fact want to kill you.

Halloween III: Season of the Witch (1982, Dir. Tommy Lee Wallace)

This one got a unduly bad rap out of the gate, as it went in a wildly different direction in terms of its story and had nothing to do with Michael Myers. Aside from that, though, this is very much in the early 80's Carpenter spirit, directed by schoolmate/editor Tommy Lee Wallace, shot by Dean Cundey and driven by an unsettling, dread soaked score by Carpenter himself. True, there is a definite B-movie spirit to it, with obligatory kill scenes that feel too calculated and acting (aside from lead Tom Atkins and the wonderful bad guy Dan O'Herlihy) that can be a little shaky, but overall it's a creepy, entertaining story about modern day witchcraft (with a TV jingle that will get in your head and stay there forever). Again, part of its appeal may go back to where I grew up, in a small, rural place where something always felt a little off, where bad things might be happening at any moment right under your nose, and the dark carried a powerful emotional force.