#I’m highly touch adverse if I do not want it/expect it and was doing my best not to have a meltdown over that

[pen-of-roses]

How do I tell people to not touch me at work and get them to listen. Because I’ve brought it up multiple times and people still put their hands on my shoulder or grab my hand and it makes me Uncomfortable™️

[wildflowertips]

Hi! I was curious if you had anymore Kuroko fic recommendations? Thank you! 🥺💗

hey! 🥺 i do have more kuroko fanfic recs. i didnt know what type of kuroko ship you wanted, so here are a few from some kuroko ships <3:

Kagakuro Recommendations

the flower that blooms in adversity by aotetsu

When Kagami falls for Kuroko Tetsuya, a famous prostitute from the red light district, he manages to find a whole lot of trouble and a person worth it all.

this fic deserves more love and attention. kagami love for kuroko absolutely made me sob

Brothers in Woo by buttwade

in which Himuro jokingly offers to help Kagami win Kuroko over and the joke's on him

kagami is drunk & himuro cracks jokes. this fic is funny. jealous!kuroko

Beastly call by TCon

"You mean," Kuroko started. "You'd be my Heat Partner?" He didn't expect Kagami to explode into a myriad of different shades of red more impressive than his own hair. "Y — yeah tha's what I'm sayin'!" for some reasons he lapsed into english with an odd accent. KagaKuro Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics & Sex Pistols AU - Fusion

Lots of smut in the beginning. there’s crime, suspense, and i read this fic like 5 times.

Stamina Training by tnsxbunny

As the weakest member in the team, Kuroko stays back after basketball practice to train on his stamina. Kagami watches from afar and decides to show Kuroko what real stamina training is.

SMUT. SUCH GOOD SMUT. thank u

The advantage of being Kuroko by heartfilledteddybear

mayuzumi hits on Kuroko & Kagami gets jealous 🥵

Akakuro Recommendations

Forget me not flowers in our hair by miniaturepsycho

When Kagami is captured by a beast Kuroko doesn't think twice and bargains to take the red head's position instead but it seems that there is more to this castle than meets the eye, and what has it have to do with forget me not's?? Basically a beauty and the beast AU that I decided to do after seeing the live action (which I totally did not cry at, not at all!!) COMPLETE

Contains Aokaga. Akashi as beast & kuroko as belle. So good 🥺

All I ask by TsuruKuni

"It's none of your business." "Tell me, Aomine. How can it be none of my business when you're throwing away the only person I've ever wanted?"

THIS FIC MADE ME SOB AT 3 AM. I highly recommend listening to ‘All I ask’ by Adele. I promise you will cry. Aokuro & Akakuro.

Bridezilla by DancingMarshmallows

Weddings are stressful... try helping people plan them. With two months to get everything together, a bridezilla and her bitch of a maid of honor, and finding love at the worst time, Kuroko would be lucky if he makes it out alive.

CEO!Akashi & WEDDING PLANNER!kuroko. you will not regret reading this one.

That Ridiculously Long Dance by Harmonia_Silverberg

Aomine, Kise, and Kagami never learn, do they? But apparently their "joke" works in Akashi and Kuroko's favor this time.

literally one of my all time favorite akakuro fanfic

What Would Chihiro Do by anewtinystory

Akashi is dating Kuroko, whose two brothers are very protective of him.[Based on a Tumblr anon's prompt: Nijimura and Mayuzumi are Kuroko's brothers; while Nijimura approves of Akashi, Mayuzumi feels the opposite]

slight smut. protective bros. i love it sm.

Aokuro Recommendations

Traded Mistakes by Acetate, Chrystie, exuberant_imperfection, kate882, luckypen

For the prompt: Aomine having an accident and losing his memory so all he remembers is being best friends with Tetsu and he doesn’t understand how that could stop.

Angst, oh the angst 😫😭.

Third time’s a charm (or maybe fourth) by LajtHane

Aomine really didn't mean to crash into him at Quidditch practice.

HOGWARTS AU. if that doesn’t temp you, idk what will. My fav Aokuro fic.

Maybe a touch of your hand by skinandbones

[Written for AoKuroWeek 2015]: Aomine moves into a new apartment and befriends a ghost boy.

no bc this fic made me cry too. pls read it 🎶ifwehad5moreminutes🎶

The Boyfriend Jersey by exuberant_imperfection, kate882

Kuroko, in a half-asleep mistake, ends up wearing Aomine's jersey to school.

THIS FIC IS CUTE SUCH DORKS

Hey, Come Here Often? by imabignerd

In which Momoi holds his magazines hostage, Aomine hates everything and everyone, and Kuroko is politely bewildered.

Aomine crushes on the lifeguard!Kuroko & Momoi is a little shit about it 😌🤍

Midokuro Recommendations

It’s Always your Fault! by warsandwich

Kuroko and Midorima are secretly dating, but Takao finds out their secret. De-anon from the anon meme.

Short, sweet, & funny 😌.

Partnership by Fayah

Their partnership starts in English class, but like everything else in their lives, turns into a matter of basketball.

Midorima really cares for Kuroko 🥺

Midokuro Ficlet by pandacchii

based off of imagineyourotp blog post: "Imagine your otp confessing while they were half asleep" Pairing: Midorima/Kuroko

short story but it’s really cute ☺️

An Unexpected Alignment by cinnaelle

Midorima Shintarou does not expect such a reoccurring encounter. But the wheels of fate are turning and Akashi moves his shogi piece.

well-written i love it sm. deserves more praise

The Way You Come Undone by oshare_banchou

"Midorima Shintarou is completely silent during sex. And Kuroko, who is both fascinated and frustrated by this discovery, wonders just how much it would take to make him come undone." - Kuroko/Midorima, in that order

do i need to say more? 😫

Kikuro Recommendations

Careless Whisper by DarkWoods

When Kuroko is dared to come up with some dirty talk, no one expects him to be good at it. Certainly not Kise.

my favorite kikuro fanfic. flustered!kise & tease!kuroko

如果的事 (If) by stormterror

People fall in love in many different manners. Love feels like many different things to many people, but Kise Ryouta thinks there's nothing that quite beats the feeling of being in love with Kuroko Tetsuya. [kise/kuroko]

SO GOOD I CRIED I SMILED SO HARD. pls kikuro deserves the world

Wires, Connecting by Bakagami

It's like being blind but not, like touching air, grasping at straws, voices dissipating and reverberating.

This story is locked so you need to login into ao3 to read it. PHONE SEX & DIRTY TALK 🥵

He Promised by imabignerd

Kise promised he'd smile for Kuroko the whole way through, all the way to the end.

Zombie apocalypse AU. Death. sobbing violently.

It’s a Small World by SilentSilhouette

Kise tries to find his soulmate through social media. Soulmate AU where a picture of your soulmate is tweeted to you on your sixteenth birthday.

This one made me crackle & laugh😂😂

Murakuro Recommendations

No Such Thing as Too Much Vanilla by plumtrees

Kuroko and Murasakibara have baking days. What do you mean it isn't canon?

baking!boyfriends & fluff 😌😉

Vanilla Cream by yoimrei

Murasakibara eats Kurokos ass after something Ahomine says which sparks his jealousy.

here me out first, the ass eating in this is *chef’s kiss* 🤌🏽🤌🏽

Philia by DarkWoods

That time Murasakibara and Kuroko started kinda-sorta fake dating, and kinda-sorta never bothered to break up.

Still going & i love this writer sm. i read all their stories 😙✌🏽

Lavender Secrets by SailorHikarinoMu

Kuroko was the one to bring out his true love for basketball, which had been hidden from prying eyes since the beginning. It was one of those things he was unsure whether he should feel grateful for, but all the same, it did mean something. What this 'something' was, exactly? Murasakibara did not know. Not yet.

FLUFF AAA FLUFF

Rainy by overdose

Kuroko listened to the rain pouring, and more importantly, Murasakibara's steady breathing.

smut. couch sex. size difference. 🥴

BONUS

Hanamiya Makoto/Kuroko Tetsuya

Scotomas by Darkenedcrystal

After the game against Jabberwock, Kagami goes overseas and Kuroko finds himself without a light. A slightly angsty, rather light-hearted story about what happens to Kuroko after Kagami leaves. Features teens finding their way around life, Seirin without a light, the Generation of Miracles being a family, the teens finding love and appreciating the heartbreaks. Kuroko tries to find his own style without a light, and stumbles into the darkness that is Hanamiya Makoto instead. Extra chapter added!

love this fic so much. downside: akashi is kinda a dick

Of Unlikely Friendships, Sneaky Bets, Shogi and Sake by itsthechocopuff

Imayoshi had introduced his two favourite kouhai to each other as an experiment. He did not predict they'd get along so well, both being shadows, but they did, and they worked, oddly enough. Hanamiya brought out the worst in Kuroko, while Kuroko brought out the the best in the other; and they both caused heartattacks to unsuspecting teammates who could not believe their darling shadow was not as innocent as he seemed.

you wont regret reading this one omg

Haizaki Shougo/Kuroko Tetsuya

A Taste That Lingers by therealmoyashi

I couldn't say anything, and that was alright because he didn't want an answer. I'll never forget the way that tasted. Yeah, I thought, he ruined me.

i cried reading this for the first time. out of character kuroko

By the Tomatoes by Wayfarer_Rye

It starts with a blue-grey t-shirt that says "Nothing but Net".

Haizaki wants to try again.

[twst-campos13]

ANWHWHAHHAHAH YEAHHHH NONBINARY/MALE FOCUSED BLOG THIS IS EVERYTHING IVE WANTED UR SO POGGERS!! can i have an agender reader who’s dating vil where he gets turned into a catboy? you can choose whatever format you like! congrats on the new blog; i cant stress how happy i am to see a blog like this!

Hi mac!! thank you for visiting my blog!! here’s your request >:0!! I hope you enjoy it! (some commentary in the notes!)

Warnings: mild language! Tags: agender reader, catboy Vil, fluff!

Simply put it, Professor Crewel assigned his class to perfect an animal shifting potion for the authentic assessment. Something as advanced as this could not be perfected without any assistance, so of course, you approached the person that you know excelled in this area.

At first, Vil Schoenheit declined. “There is a reason why Professor Crewel strictly assigned it as an individual assessment, potato,” Vil Schoenheit said with a certain amusement in his tone despite his stoic features. You pouted, tugging on his hand and pleading to help you with this assessment. Eventually he gave in but only on one condition: he will only be assisting you and that is final as you should be the one doing most of the work. If Vil is helping you, then that is enough for you.

After a grueling 6 hours later, you have reached the near end of your potion brewing. The potion that was mildly viscous and muddy turned smooth and dappled white in color. It smells mildly pungent however, a contrast to the clean appearance of the potion. Even Vil's nose scrunched at the smell. "Lovely," he commented.

"This means it worked right?" You asked, looking down at the swirling liquid and watching a few bubbles rapidly pop at the surface. You would need to simmer it for a few more minutes before taking it off the heat and cooling. Vil studied the simmering brew. "An animal shifting potion's appearance vary from color and smell based on what animal you wish to transform into," he said. "I would not conclude its success without testing it."

You looked at him innocently. "Will you drink it for me then?"

You nearly laugh when his face slightly contorts to disbelief. "I came with you as an assistant, not a test subject." Vil planted his hands firmly on his waist. "What reason do you have to not consume it yourself?"

You remembered a mundane ingredient added to the potion. "I'm allergic to nutmeg," you answered.

You were not allergic to nutmeg.

Vil squinted his eyes at you and you smiled. Sighing with a roll of his eyes, he takes out a small kit from his bag. It was a rectangular mahogany box, varnished, with intricate gold borders. Inside were empty vials and flasks with nameless labels. "Fine. But I will not be drinking straight from a beaker. That is highly dangerous and unethical."

"Ace and Grim did it once or twice." Your queen looked at you with a certain judgement behind his goggles. "You often forget that I am different from them, darling," Vil stated.

Your eyes looked back and forth on your notes and your boyfriend. His skin became noticeably paler and he was visibly perspiring. Once you identified the obvious signs of discomfort, you knew the potion was taking effect. Vil was quick to unbutton his lab coat—and suddenly you remembered that you still have an ounce of decency left and turned away. You bit the inside of your cheek as excitement bubbled at the pit of your stomach. You were excited about two things: one, being that you may have successfully brewed an animal shifting potion; and two, you get to see Vil Schoenheit turn into a cute little furball—

You...did not expect his voice to exasperatedly purr your name.

Startled, you turned around—forgetting the moments before that was disrobing himself; he must be covered in fur somehow—and became even more startled that you nearly elbowed nearby equipment. You gaped at him, words failing to form out of your mouth and instead stammering gibberish that soon turned into a single, coherent, verbal reaction.

"Holy fuck."

"How eloquent," Vil snide sarcastically, his tail—holy fuck it's so big and fluffy—swaying behind him.

You tried not to—but you did—took note of his partially disheveled appearance. His lab coat and goggles were neatly placed on the table. His pants were slightly hung loose around his waist and a few buttons of his shirt collar were undone, exposing the dip of his neck. Both of you were expecting at least some fur to cover his skin, but alas, there was none.

Instead, a pair of fluffy ears twitched atop his head, and a tail nearly round and fashioned from the clouds, soft around the edges and puffed up like a squirrel's. But Vil did not turn into a squirrel. He turned into a minuet cat. Half-cat. You turned Vil into a catboy. It seems the potion did not work in a way you were expecting it to.

"I don't understand," was all you could say. Vil scoffed. "Now you speak after ogling at me?" He raised a brow, tail flicking behind him at a sudden intonation. You noticed that his manner of speaking changed a little. If he was elegant before he is certainly more elegant now. Like...a domesticated cat that perfected etiquette lessons.

"I wasn't ogling—I was just staring, surprised," you corrected, despite the heat at the tip of your ears. Vil hummed—purred—and his eyes narrowed at you. "Ogling and staring are two very similar things, darling."

You question if he is purring on purpose. Every syllable at the end of his sentence ended with a smooth purr. Maybe, you thought, it is just an adverse effect of the potion.

So, you tried retracing your steps. Where did it possibly went wrong? All ingredients were measured carefully, weighed even, and you made sure to be precise in stirring—

"Darling." You jumped a little from your thoughts. When did Vil get so close to you? "You are standing there like a sprouted potato," he said, eyes peering at you. "Have you figured out where you went wrong?"

"I was getting there," you muttered, eyes glancing at his tail again. You wondered how soft it would be if you run your fingers across the fur. Can a cat's tail reach that level of fluff? Now you wonder about his ears...would they be as soft as they look? If you touch it—pet it—would he like it? Will he lean more to your touch like a cat asking for more affection? Would he—

You froze when your chin was lifted. Your entire face flared at the intimate gesture. "It seems you would rather focus elsewhere than pinpoint your misstep..." he purred. There was a hint of teasing in his tone. You swallowed. "I mean, this—" you gestured at him vaguely "—this is new." You lightly chuckled, trying to calm yourself down. You cannot even meet your boyfriend's eyes from how intense he is staring at you. Vil's fingers remained curled under your chin. Light, but noticeable.

"And what do you plan on doing?"

His fingers moved on from your chin and slid behind your neck to fiddle with the hem of your back collar. Now he is starting to act like a curious cat.

"W-Well if I plan on reversing the effects then that means I have to properly observe this result of the potion first," you mumbled, not fighting the smile that draws from your lips. Something about this scene seemed affectionate. Vil chuckled, and you did not miss the way his lips tugged into a slight smirk. "Is that what you are suggesting to do? To observe?"

You do not miss the flirtatious tone in his voice, either. "Don't make it sound weird, Vil..." you muttered, and he laughed at your probably pouty face. A laugh that is soft and quiet. His hand slid past your shoulder and he sat down on his chair. He leaned back with his legs crossed. His tail idly swayed back and forth behind him as his ears twitched with interest. His plum-purple eyes beckoned you, as do his inviting purr.

"Well, your assessment is not finished yet, yes? Go on. Observe me."

[sup-hoes-its-me]

A Hero (Shinsou x Reader)

A/N: okay so shinsou is such a cool character, kinda relatable tbh, so here we go. Friends to lovers, lots of fluff, cuteness. It took a lot of strength to take a break from writing my fav bakugo lol.

tw: you almost get assaulted

word count: 4400

Part One/ Part Two/ Part Three

So technically, Y/N wasn’t related to the Bakugos at all. She was the orphaned child of a family friend, who died a horrific hero’s death when she was only a couple years old. Without any other relatives in the area to adopt her, Y/N’s mother’s best friend took in the two year old, despite the trouble of raising two toddlers being quite daunting. Yet, her quirk wasn’t very dangerous nor special like Katsuki, so she wasn’t hard to manage in that area. Just a shy little girl, confused at the transition after the loss of her parents.

Y/N was never very strong willed like her new family. She was passive, the perfect representation of type B personality. Dependent, reliant, and fearful of adversity. The only reason she was never mercilessly bullied in her primary days was a result of her “brother’s” unrelenting defensiveness. He was an asshole, very much so, but he never let anyone pick fun at the girl. Not only did he kinda, sorta love her unconditionally as a silbing should, but his mother would murder him for not standing up for her.

But when they both got into U.A, suddenly the two weren’t equals anymore, nor would he always be by her side to watch out for her. Y/N was left behind in class C, while he soared into the top hero course. Y/N was support for the soon-to-be pros, not that she minded. The girl knew how weak she was, and unless she had a change of heart and decided to work harder on her quirk, she would never be able to succeed. She wasn’t motivated like those in Class A. Y/N never wanted the responsibility of being so good people relied on her, civilians putting all their faith into her. It was nerve wracking.

On the first day of class, Y/n said goodbye to her parents and walked to class with her brother. He carried both their bags, one on each shoulder, eyes staring straight ahead, brows furrowed with irritation as per usual. She kept her hands clasped behind her back, wandering slowly next to him, head hung. 

She was scared, admittedly. This school was huge and so prestigious. How could she ever compare to the others there? It was impossible.

“Stop being such a baby.”

“Katsuki-”

“You’re gonna be fine, and you know it. You’re more powerful than those losers anyway, if only you tried,” he grunted, turning the corner to see dozens of other students in their uniforms walking around and entering the school. She bit her lip and sighed, wringing her fingers out of nervousness. “Seriously, don’t make yourself out to be a weakling. People will target you if you do.”

She paused, not taking another step as she confessed, “I know what I should do, it’s just putting that ideal into practice that gets me everytime.” 

Time was running close to class starting, and he rolled his eyes down to her slightly quivering form. Handing her her bag, he told her calmly, “Listen, if anyone bothers you, I’m two doors down anyway. Just call me right after class if something happens, got it?” With a nod, he patted her on the head and walked away to the main entrance. 

Her eyes drew up the high building, taking in all the shiny windows and the huge shape of an H made out of the numerous floors. This place was bigger than she had ever imagined, and that only scared her more. Yeah, it was bigger because it housed a lot of students who needed room to exercise their quirks, plus they were a very wealthy institution. 

She had to tell herself that just because the building was scary certainly did not mean that the people inside were just as bad.

So she held her head a bit higher and walked through the crowds of students. She tried to remember where the counselor told her her classroom was, so she didn’t embarrass herself by getting lost on her first day. 

Yet, that was exactly what she did. The school was just too big, and she was too anxious about her first day to think properly. So, with tears gathering in her eyes, she watched at the time ticked by on the clock. Her nightmares were filled with this scenario. Showing up late on her first day and everyone in the class laughing at her. 

“Are you lost?” a voice deep and smooth spoke up behind her, and she jumped a couple inches in the air, placing a hand over her heart after it started to rapidly beat with shock.

She turned her head, brushing her loose hairs from her eyes. He stared down at her with an almost bored expression, just as his voice had sounded. He was tall, and very purple. Dark undereyes, wild violet hair in every direction. She didn’t really know what to think of him other than he was unique, dare she even say attractive in a strange way. He looked older than her, probably 16 or 17 even, based off his height and old soul aura he radiated. One thing she did notice about him though, was he felt gentle, passive and even a bit dismissive. It wasn’t the least bit intimidating, and she relaxed. 

“Yeah…” she mumbled, a bit embarrassed.

He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “Seems we’re in the same boat.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Class 1-C,” he hummed, beginning to walk forward again. She told him meekly that she was going to the same class, and he raised a brow. “Really? What’s your quirk?”

“My quirk is kinda lame.”

A small smile crept at the edge of his lip, her embarrassment and shy attitude amusing him. “And what would that be?”

“Well, it’s kinda weird so don’t make fun of it. I can um- well, my blood is highly basic and burns any skin issue it touches,” the girl mumbled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. Her cheeks burned so much she felt like she had a fever. This is why she never liked to talk about her quirk. It was just plain absurd and kinda disgusting. Every time she used her quirk she had to slice her skin and sprinkle blood everywhere. “But, like, it does so much damage to me to lose blood that often I can rarely use my quirk.”

He nodded. “That’s definitely strange, you’re right,” he stated bluntly, and her heart stopped beating for a moment. “But useful. Really don’t know why you’d be embarrassed about it. Just because you don’t have endurance doesn’t mean strategy and technique can’t make up for that.”

Y/N caught up to him, walking at his side now although his strides were longer and harder to keep up with. She looked up to him, feeling a bit at ease seeing as he wasn’t rude about her quirk. “What’s your quirk?”

He didn’t miss a beat, his gruff voice sounding bitter and angry with his next words, “Something I’d rather not talk about. Don’t want you to spread rumors and lies about me.” 

She had never heard someone so visceral about their own quirk. It couldn’t be that terrible, not to mention she wasn’t rude like the people he must have encountered before. She felt a pang in her chest, knowing that this reaction was no doubt from prior experience being hurt. 

With a short shake of her head, she replied, “It’s okay, if you don’t tell me, but I wouldn’t judge you for your quirk, and definitely not gossip about it. I don’t have the social skills to do that kind of thing.” She laughed awkwardly. The bell rang overhead, signalling the beginning of the first period. They were officially late. “Oh, crap. We better hurry.”

“For what? We’re already late, doesn’t matter if it’s by a minute or ten.”

“I-I don’t know about that one.”

As they entered the stairwell to head up the stairs, he turned to her and paused, staring into her eyes deeply. She blinked, seeing so much purple looking in her direction. Quickly, she averted her gaze, and tucked her hands behind her back out of nervous habit. 

“I’ll tell you about my quirk if you promise me one thing.”

She opened her mouth to agree but then shook her head. Don’t just make promises to strangers, Y/N, so stupid. “Um, depends on the promise.”

He took a deep breath, never taking his eyes off of her own averted ones. Waves of pain radiated from his form, hitting her square in the chest. “Just don’t call me a monster or shit like that.” And that was the moment she felt her entire heart crumble in her chest for this boy she had just met. He expected her to think of him like a monster for something as silly as his quirk? She wanted to cry for him, being as sensitive as she was. 

“I promise.”

He started walking up the stairs again, done with his intense observation of her face, except it felt to her like he was examining a portion of her soul, her compassion. It seems he saw something he liked in her. 

“My quirk is brainwashing, or mind control, if you want to call it that.”

Her eyes widened at the words, not believing that someone so powerful was right beside her, in the same class as her even. “Like, what do you do?’

“If a person verbally responds to me, I then have complete control over anything they do.”

“That is so sick,” she whispered under her breath, but he still heard her. His brows quirked up, and he gazed down at her.”Sorry, I just think that’s a really amazing quirk.” She smiled sheepishly, her eyes reaching his. He almost had to look away once he saw the sparkle of excitement and admiration in her gaze. Those emotions were directed towards him…

As they walked past a classroom, a loud voice called from inside the room. “Bakugo Y/N and Shinsou Hitoshi. I believe you’re late to my class.”

She rushed into the classroom in front of him and he followed. They conveniently were directed to the back of the classroom, two seats directly next to each other. She took a seat in hers and he slumped down in his, rolling his eyes at the glare the teacher had given him. 

He looked over at the girl beside him, who he now knew as Bakugo Y/N. She peeked over at him, and a small smile grew on her soft lips, the bit of sparkle still present in her gaze towards him. He smothered down the urge to smile back, just lifted the corner of his lip in return. 

Shinsou wasn’t exactly interested in making friends. He didn’t need them. This girl, though, he wouldn’t mind if she stuck around.

______________________________________

“So, uh, Y/N, do you need someone to walk you home?” Shinsou asked as they shuffled out of the nearly empty classroom save for a few stragglers. “Not that you aren’t capable of walking yourself home, it’s just that-”

“It’s fine. And actually someone already walks home with me, so no.”

He cringed, feeling awkward now. He shouldn’t have been so forward with this impending friendship. They had just met, she probably didn’t want some weirdo knowing where she lived either. “Oh, gotcha.”

“In fact, there he is,” she smiled, waving to a particularly angry blond walking down the hall with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his sagging pants. Shinsou cringed even harder at this point, not expecting her to already have a guy walking her home. She probably didn’t have much room for another good guy friend in her life, he thought, obviously overthinking things. “Katsuki! How was class?”

He frowned, shaking his head. “Deku made a fool of himself as usual, but it wasn’t awful,” the boy replied as his eyes slid from his sister to the daunting guy beside her. “Who’s this?”

“This is my new friend, Shinsou. He helped me find the classroom this morning since we’re in the same class.” Katsuki blinked in surprise, definitely not expecting his shy little sister to already have made a friend. It took her years of middle school just to have a few close acquaintances. 

“I gotta get going. My mom is expecting me home soon,” Shinsou told the girl, even if he was lying. He could go home at any time he wanted, he just didn’t want to feel awkward anymore. This guy was obviously close to her, and was giving him the evil eye for a minute now. Possessive much?

“Wait, before you go, let me introduce you to my brother.”

“Brother?’ he asked aloud. They didn’t look alike, like, at all. Nor did their personalities seem to resemble each other in any way.

“This is my brother Katsuki. He’s a class 1-A hot shot.” A pang of relief turned his stomach.

“Yeah, uh, nice to meet you.”

The blond rolled his eyes, gruffly brushing off the purple haired boy’s greeting.“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Y/N, are you ready to go?”

Y/N sighed, waving softly to Shinsou, a smile ever present on her lips when she looked at him. She mouthed as she walked away, ‘sorry’, and he just waved. 

Maybe he was a creep for watching her as she left, waiting for her to turn a corner before he let out a breath of air. All he knew was that he felt as if he was sucked in a trance. His heart felt heavy in his chest, as if it were about to explode. The feelings were so foreign but pleasant, some of the best he had ever experienced.

It just felt so good to see someone’s warm smile directed at him, not an ounce of malice behind a guise.

Yeah…He really, really liked her. 

_____________________________

The pair were friends. Honestly, Y/N was the only person you could get him to admit, albeit begrudgingly, that she was his friend. They trained together, and he assisted her a lot with her quirk. There were times when they were training alone and she lost too much blood that she would pass out and he would carry her to the infirmary. Time and time again though, teachers told him in private to monitor her. It was unhealthy to constantly lose pints of blood, and she wouldn’t be able to do it on the daily even if she wanted to. Since he and her brother were the only people she truly listened to and appreciated advice from, Shinsou recognized it as a sort of duty to take care of her.

Yet, with a bit more encouragement at the new school from dozens of teachers and other students, she actually improved on her quirk quite a lot. It wasn’t as if she had a useless quirk; it was very powerful in fact. She could burn directly through someone’s skin and the bone if enough blood was spilled. Therefore, the quirk could only be exercised in moderation.

For the first time in his life, someone actually trusted him. Not once did he consider using his quirk on her. Not only was she perfect on her own, but if he betrayed her trust like that, he might lose his closest friend. She was kind, but he wasn’t sure where her limits lied.

“Are you sure you’re okay walking home alone?” he asked his friend, who sat beside him packing up her books. Katsuki was out for the day with the flu, so she would be walking back home alone. He was kinda worried about her. She never walked by herself, always having the protection of her brother. 

But she was a strong girl. There was nothing to worry about. He had seen her fight and she was definitely capable. It was just overthinking that sent his anxiety through the roof.

“Yes, I’m totally fine,” she laughed, finding his concern humorous. “You live in the opposite direction. I’m not gonna make you walk me 20 blocks out of your way.”

Although he nodded in understanding, he definitely did not agree. He would walk all over the city for her if she needed him to. Still, when it came time to part ways on the sidewalk, they waved and went in opposite directions. It was only after five excruciatingly long minutes that the lanky boy turned and started walking in the direction of her home. Even though he shouldn’t have, and easily could have texted her, he wanted to make sure she made it home. He knew the general direction of her house, and if he walked moderately fast, he could catch up to her. 

So what if she didn’t want him walking an extra 30 minutes? If that made her annoyed, so be it.

Y/N walked slowly down the street as she usually did, her feet tapping lightly against the sidewalk. If she were being honest, she was a bit disappointed in herself for refusing Shinsou’s offer to walk her home. They would have a lot more time to talk in person before the weekend, and she never wanted to miss a beat with him. 

Maybe it was stupid of her to be so attached but she thought of him as her best friend, practically the only true one she ever had. Dozens of people came and went from her life, but this friendship felt so special. It would last a long time she thought, and hopefully she was right.

Unfortunately, she was too lost in her own dreamy thoughts to notice someone standing right at the edge of the alley she walked by in a particularly deserted area of town. A hand reached and snatched up her arm swiftly, yanking her into the darkness of the alley and covering her mouth with his other grimey hand before she could make a sound.

Her back hit the cold wall behind her, feeling the rough bricks scratch her shoulder blades through her uniform. Her wrist felt like it was on fire, burning from the harsh grip of the snatcher. Using his knee, he pinned her other hand to the wall at her side,  completely immobilizing her. She could have used her quirk, if she was able to produce some sort of blood-pouring injury, only she was trapped.

“Don’t fucking scream, you hear me?”

He removed his hand from her mouth for a moment to reach for his pocket, and as he did so, she let out the loudest scream she possibly could. Just as the sound came from her mouth, a cold object pressed against her throat and her heart stopped beating in her chest from sheer terror. 

To think she was a hero in training at U.A., and she couldn’t even defend herself from a quirkless criminal on the street. She felt like crying, feeling a knife against her throat, wrists held down. If only she was just a little smarter or a little stronger; anything to get her out his mess. The air was tense and heavy, and she could barely get a breath in without feeling the bitterness of the blade against her skin. 

She prayed, closing her eyes and letting the hot tears drip down her cheeks. If only someone would come and help. All Might was always there to help people, wasn’t he? Where was he? She couldn’t hope for her brother to back her up as he was sick at home, and she definitely couldn’t text Shinsou to come get her. Her phone was tucked safely in her backpack where she couldn’t dream of reaching.

God, she was hopeless. 

The thug opened his mouth to say something else no doubt cruel or vulgar, but just as the first syllable fell from his chapped lips, a shocked voice echoed down the alleyway.

“Y/N?”

Her eyes widened at the voice, relief running throughout her entire body. 

“Dumb punk, kid, just run off now.”

“No.”

“You don’t want to mess with-”

That reply was all it took for Shinsou to take control. The thug felt all control of his body lost in the air and a sort of tenseness to take over. “Drop the knife,” the student commanded, and the man indeed dropped the rusty knife to the ground, a metallic clang rang out in the darkness. “Now back away.” And so he did. 

Tha man sputtered, not knowing what was happening to his body or why he was doing these things. His face turned a bright shade of red and he threw a dirty glare at Shinsou Hitoshi, hating him with every sense of the word for making him look this pathetic. 

“Now stand still right there like the piece of shit you are. Move, and I will kill you,” he said calmly. Before turning to Y/N. “I’ll be right back with someone to help. I saw an officer go into the coffee shop across the street.” 

When he left, she inched away from the man, watching as he couldn’t do more than just stand there and look completely bewildered. A mind control quirk definitely wasn’t something you see everyday. Plus, he probably was facing the realization that he would be arrested and sent to jail to get his ass kicked by quirk users there.

He came back with a couple officers and pointed out the situation, explaining what he saw when he came to the alley. They asked Y/N for a quick statement and she just reaffirmed what Shinsou had told them and added how she was walking home alone and he grabbed her when no one was looking. And so they took him away, thanking the kids for helping catch the guy, who apparently had tried to assault and rob other women in the area recently.

That was a close call, the closest one she’d ever encountered actually. 

As they exited the alleyway, she felt sick to her stomach from what had happened, stress filling up her chest and threatening to burst out in the form of tears, only she composed herself the best she could to be strong. There really was no need to be strong. Shinsou was her friend. He was kind and brave and very intelligent, but most importantly he was kind to her. If she cried, he wouldn’t shame her. But she still felt the pressure to keep them from falling. “Shinsou-”

“I’m so glad I turned around to follow you. I swear, it’s almost like I knew something bad was going to happen, I just knew it,” he mumbled more to himself than her, really. He looked down at her finally, his eyes searching hers for any sign of distress. She looked terribly shaken up, but no tears were falling. “Are you okay? Did that guy hurt you or anything?”

“No, nothing else happened,” she told him. “I-I can’t believe you came to save me. I’m so grateful, I don’t even know what to say. I felt so helpless back there without my quirk at disposal.”

“It’s okay. It’s over now, and you’re alright. That’s all I could really hope for.” He looked down the street and then back to her, flashing a weak grin. “You wouldn’t mind if I walked you home from here, would you?” he asked, to which she silently shook her head. So, he began walking and she followed very closely behind, so close that he could feel her arm brushing against his. He figured she was scared enough, a little bit of  friendly comfort was going to help her out. She obviously didn’t want to speak, too shocked to say anything much.

After a minute or two of walking, he felt her hand slip its way sneakily into his own, tightly grabbing on as if he was going to yank it away from her. Although he could feel how shaky her hand was, it was so warm and soft against his cold and rough hands. Her fingers fit perfectly between his own. It was sappy of him to think, but jeez, it felt like those hands were meant to interlock. It just felt so fucking good. 

He shoved down those selfish feelings. Y/N was just attacked, and he was thinking about how he felt. He shook his head subconsciously, knowing that he was being rude. She was holding his hand because she desperately needed to feel safe and comfortable, not because it necessarily felt nice. She would probably hold the hand of any random dude that saved her like that. Jesus, Shinsou, so dumb. Get a damn grip, you sap.

He squeezed her hand back reassuringly. He wasn’t sure what she was feeling, but he hoped he was helping.

Her house was relatively close to the spot she was grabbed, so it was a short walk. Part of him wished it had been longer so he could have spent more time with her hand held in his. As they stopped at her doorstep, she dropped his hand and went to grab the strap of her bookbag anxiously, eyes hidden from his view. 

“Shinsou, thank you for stepping in back there. I really can’t tell you enough how much I appreciate that.”

With a wave of his hand absentmindedly, he brushed off her praise and thanks. “Don’t thank me. Anyone would have done the same, you know.” he didn’t feel like he deserves any thanks. He barely did shit back there except say a few words, and she was thanking him. Anyone would have done the same. He wasn’t special. He wouldn’t be special with the quirk he possessed. 

But god, the way she looked at him in that way, adoration and admiration staring into his eyes, completely entranced with him; it made him feel invincible, like he was on top of the world for a lifetime. He would never forget the shine in her beautiful e/c eyes in that moment, he swore it. That was a memory he’d hate to lose.

“I-I know- It’s just that…well…” Her words trailed off into silence before he felt her reach up abruptly to wrap her arms around his shoulders, falling to rest against him. He caught his balance last second, not expecting that of all things. Her head rested snuggly in the meet of his shoulder and neck, hot breath tickling his skin there. He tensed at the sudden embrace, but nevertheless wrapped his arms around her shoulders, bringing her closer. He could feel her shaking once again, and her rapid heartbeat pounded against his quickening one.

“Hitoshi,” she whispered, “You are my hero.”

Shivers ran down his spine at those simple five words, laced together by the most angelic voice he’d heard before.

That took his breath right from his lungs. He was her hero. A real hero. That was all he wanted in his life, to show people that he could be someone’s savior. The feeling of the one person he cared for more than anything saying those words to him. The feeling was unbelievable.

She pulled away after a silent moment, and waved to him gently, taking a step up to the entrance of her house. “I’ll see you on Monday, okay?” she said sheepishly, feeling something weird herself after that hug. Her skin felt all warm and gooey, like she was going to fall apart at any moment or her knees would collapse beneath her.

“Y/N, if you need anything, you know you can call me night or day, I don’t care,” he called after her. “I swear, anything for you, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Shinsou-kun.” 

“Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye.”

“You’ll call me sometime, right? So I can make sure you’re feeling better?”

“If you want.”

“Of course.”

“Okay. I promise I’ll call.”

“Yeah, well, bye then.”

“Yeah, bye-bye.”

She shut the door finally, catching the eye of her brother immediately.

Katsuki stood in the living room of their home, sipping some soup with a spoon, blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He raised a brow when she peered over at him, obviously having seen what happened outside through the front window. “What was that about, Y/N? Care to explain why that boy was all over you?”

“Shut up, Katsuki.”

He grunted, rolling his eyes at her reply. “Hey, I’m just worried for you. You can’t trust teenage boys. Take it from me since I am one. ”His voice was quite hoarse from the sore throat he had that morning, and he sounded like a frog whenever he spoke. How could she possibly take him seriously? 

“He’s just my friend. You really don’t have to lecture me on anything,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Sure, sure.”

She waved off how annoying he was, and walked down the hall to her room. When she shut the door behind her, she finally felt herself heat up with embarrassment. Shinsou Hitoshi held her hand the whole way home. He saved her like the glorious hero he always wanted to be. The feeling of relief she felt when she heard him enter the alleyway and call for her, it made her heart melt. She would definitely take up his offer and call him over the weekend, just to hear his soothing voice in her ear. Just hearing him, or even thinking about him made a smile grow on her cheeks. 

She wasn’t sure what she felt for him. If it was simply a friendship or if her attachments were growing into something more.

Y/N just really, really liked him.

_____________ 

 Part two coming later this week. Should it be angst or fluff? I’m torn

[skrltwtch]

Silverware

Prompt: on a first date and A is a werewolf and doesn’t know the cutlery is silver (Source in master list)

Word count: 4,897 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I buried my nose in the bouquet of lilies and roses Jake had bought for me. It was the perfect emblem of summer with its warm, sunny hues and fresh, tangy scent — and the perfect segue to the next part of our date. The first part was a visit to the local farmers market, out of which we were now walking. Coming here had been his suggestion. It was something different from the usual first date stuff like coffee or a movie, and I liked it a lot, notwithstanding my initial reservations. I liked him a lot after what I’d seen of him at the market. I felt like the place helped bring out a certain spark between us. For one, there was constant talk about planning for date number two using what we’d seen and bought. If that wasn’t promising, I didn’t know what was!

‘Thank you, Jake. I love it,’ I said about the bouquet.

‘You’re most welcome,’ he said, a broad grin brightening up his face. ‘And thank you for the flavoured olive oil. Makes me kind of wish we didn’t have this dinner reservation …’ His grin turned sheepish in nature. ‘But that’s what’s making me look forward to our next date.’

See?

‘Do you want to call for a taxi or walk?’ he said.

‘What time’s our reservation?’

‘6:00 p.m. on the dot.’

My watch came alive with a flick of my wrist. ‘Let’s walk, then. I want to walk off all the cheese I sampled.’ I’d sampled a lot. In my defence, it was almost that time of the month — and that other time of the month. ‘Do you know the way?’

‘Google Maps can teach me.’

The route Google Maps recommended was scenic. London Bridge looked lovely at this time of day. Its appeal was heightened tenfold with Jake by my side. Could you believe we met on Tinder? It still felt unreal to me. Getting this match used up all my good luck for the year, and we were only at the halfway point. Well, if it meant burning the roof of my mouth most of the time I ate to be able to quit the dating scene for a reasonable amount of time (“once and for all” seemed a little ambitious, though that would be nice), who was I to whinge about the hand fate had dealt me?

The restaurant was located within the Four Seasons. We had been overdressed for the market. Now we were … dressed. I was flattered as fuck that he picked such a lavish place for dinner for a first date. I hadn’t the faintest clue what it was about my profile and our conversations that made him think of a high-end French restaurant helmed by a Michelin-starred chef in a five-star hotel. I did try to talk him out of it (gently). It wasn’t about the cost. Food was one of the things I was more than happy to splurge on. It was just … I never had anyone think this highly of me before, and I wondered if that’d change if … and when … he knew the truth about me.

The host led us into the main dining room and to our table. An amuse-bouche and warm bread came together with the menus. The prices were as expected of the type of establishment this was. Everything sounded good, though this was my first time coming across some of these words. Looking up what each one meant would add to the time something would take to reach our table, and my stomach would sooner eat itself out of desperation.

‘Please don’t hold back,’ said Jake, sensing my indecision. ‘The price is not an issue.’

I did have to hold back. The coincidental timing of this month’s full moon and crimson tide amplified every-fucking-thing I could possibly feel to a divinely hellish degree in the days leading up to them. As it was, I could easily polish off a five-course meal by myself. If Jake wanted this date to go in a less chaste direction after dinner, hell would freeze over before I’d even dream of talking him out of it, first date etiquette be damned. Was the fact that he was such a goddamn catch helping anything? Absolutely fucking not.

‘No, it’s not that. I can’t — I can’t decide what I want,’ I said. It was technically true. I was torn between the beef (never mind that it was £98) and veal … and both of them at once. ‘What are you having? Maybe I can get some inspiration from you.’

‘I was thinking the turbot … or the pigeon. Yeah, I can’t make up my mind either. I’m leaning toward the pigeon …? No, the turbot. Or the scallops …? Fuck. I need an adult.’

‘Let’s choose for each other.’

‘Promise not to hate each other’s choices — or each other?’

‘Pinky promise.’

We locked our pinkies together. I hoped touching him would never grow old.

Once our promise had been sanctified and we separated from each other, Jake signalled for the nearest available waitstaff. One came over almost instantly. The restaurant was bustling with activity, a far cry from however long it had been since we arrived. She took our order in a cordial fashion, not making a bigger deal of how we were ordering for each other than it should be. I chose the scallops for him; he chose the veal for me. I convinced him to start our evening with the langoustine; he sweet-talked me into ending it with the rhubarb. The waitstaff validated all our choices with a knowing smile.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask — and I hope I’m not stepping on your toes here,’ Jake started when our table was just the two of us again. ‘How did you get that scar on your arm?’

It was a matter of time. And bless him. I would never be offended by being asked about the memento of what’d changed my life forever. I would be offended by an adverse reaction to how exactly my life had been changed forever. I raised my arm, giving the scar in question its time in the limelight: brownish-pink, leathery circles arranged in the shape of a crescent, the ones at both ends abnormally large and ragged-looking.

‘My ex-boyfriend’s dog bit me,’ I said. More like my ex-boyfriend was the offending canine. ‘That’s not why he’s an ex, in case you were wondering.’ I’d wanted to be turned. He’d been more than happy to lend a helping set of fangs. Sadly, the idea of us being cute werewolves together was yet another one of those things that simply sounded nicer on paper. It wasn’t all sour between us. We’d sometimes meet for romps. It got lonely sometimes, and it wasn’t like there was an online forum for werewolves to socialise or whatever. I doubted he’d have known of one anyway: he was literally an American werewolf in London.

‘Did it hurt? It’s such a huge scar. Did anything happen to the dog afterward?’ He held up his hands. ‘Am I being nosy? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.’

I smiled in the hope that it’d soothe his worries. ‘You’re not being nosy. It was … okay for what it was.’ Euphoric. ‘The dog’s fine. It wouldn’t be fair to punish it for an instinct thing.’ Yup.

‘That’s good to hear. I think it’s a bad-ass scar. And I didn’t think it’s why he’s an ex.’

‘Thank you. Most people did. Yeesh. Give me some credit.’

‘I’m not most people … I hope.’ He smirked. The apples of his cheeks turned pink.

He really wasn’t. And I wanted so badly to tell him the truth there and then to see if that’d still hold true in the face of a bombshell like that. I had yet to tell anyone about my lycanthropy: if movies, television shows, books, etc., were anything to go by, I’d assume most people would react with fear or disgust, or both. Chris had been thoroughly flabbergasted when I reacted the way I did to learning why he always turned down my suggestions to go stargazing on nights with full moons. I got what I wanted … eventually.

Maybe I should tell Jake sooner than later. Separate the wheat from the chaff. Then I wouldn’t have wasted my time having pined for someone who thought I was some kind of freak of nature.

That conversation — or rather, thinking about that conversation would have to wait, as our starter, bearing a strong resemblance to a flower arrangement with colours befitting the season, had arrived. Food was always the perfect diversion. So would the inevitable back-and-forth about who could have the third and last langoustine. Splitting it was not an option, for one piece was as big as my thumb. I loved the portion sizes of frou-frou fancy food. So much bang for one’s buck.

‘Bon appétit,’ said Jake. ‘That’s one of … four French phrases I know. The other three are “bonjour”, “omelette du fromage”, and — I can’t say the last one in a public place.’

‘Is it by any chance … “voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir”?’ I made no effort whatsoever to lower my volume — or maintain a straight face. Brazenness blazed through my cheeks.

He put a hand on his chest, feigning surprise. ‘Well!’ He tittered. ‘Since you asked ever so nicely, and in French … This is why your choices tonight have been shellfish, isn’t it?’

‘You got me.’

‘Looking at their portion sizes, I don’t think your plan’s going to work very well. Not that I’d need the help of — shut up, Jake.’

‘Keep going, Jake’ was what I’d have said and wanted if my stomach hadn’t started getting on my case for letting good food get cold. (‘Rubbery lobster? Gross!’) There was something hot about someone like Jake — a posh, proper Englishman, the polar opposite of Chris … okay, no, stop bringing him up, stop thinking about him, goddammit — talking openly, confidently, about his prowess. Such words … coming out of his mouth … in that accent … I quickly pressed my legs together to quell any desires. Which hunger of mine was responsible for this?

Wanting to satiate the one appetite I could at this very moment without earning myself prison time for my troubles, I said, ‘Bon appétit, Jake’, and picked up my fork … which promptly fell onto my plate with the fucking loudest clang. The smell of burning flesh tickled my nostrils — my burning flesh. My fingers were sizzling where the fork touched them. Sizzling! I prayed it was only my nose that could pick up this delectable aroma.

I stared at the cutlery. Trust a high-end French restaurant helmed by a Michelin-starred chef in a five-star hotel to use real silverware, not that cheap silver-plated shit. I prodded the fork handle — and withdrew my finger immediately. Not one of my finer moments. Please don’t tell me Jake saw it.

‘Is everything okay?’ said Jake.

Ah, fuck.

‘Yeah,’ I said, examining my palm. Good news: the burn hadn’t healed and wasn’t healing as quickly as my wounds and injuries (not that I had many of them) did after I was turned, so that was one less question to dodge. I didn’t want to keep lying to Jake. I didn’t like that I had been. How would I explain the absence of a second-degree burn that existed mere seconds ago anyway? Bad news: was this never going to heal because of what caused it? I had been so careful with silver since I was turned. How would I explain a perpetual second-degree burn? Would it out me as a werewolf to people who knew what to look for? Was now really the time for Twenty Questions?

Noticing Jake had been waiting on me to provide some kind of elucidation on my well-being, I said, ‘I guess I have a silver allergy. Can you believe it? Who’s allergic to silver?’

He didn’t need to say, ‘What kind of allergy burns someone?’ for me to hear it in my head.

‘Can you eat, then?’ he said.

I shook my head. As far as I was concerned, silver was lethal. No ifs, no buts, no maybes. If a perpetual second-degree burn was the worst thing to come out of fleeting contact with the metal, so be it. I’d consider myself a lucky lycan indeed.

‘Pardon me,’ Jake said to the waitstaff who’d come with our entrées, ‘would you have any disposable cutlery perhaps? My lady’ — he did not — ‘is allergic to the silverware.’

The waitstaff did an excellent job of not acting like this very dashing gentleman had just dropped the barmiest string of words on her during her entire employment in this line of work. Even I didn’t quite believe it myself. ‘I’ll see what we have, sir, ma’am,’ she said, cool as a cucumber. After she finished setting down our food, she collected all the silverware on my side of the table and left.

‘I don’t think whatever she comes back with would help with your veal. I could cut it up for you?’ said Jake.

Oh, my God. Getting burnt by silver must be the universe’s way of course-correcting the unusual jackpot I’d hit with him. Good Tinder matches were a myth!

‘No, it’s fine. Thank you. I’ll manage … somehow,’ I said. The wooden cutlery the waitstaff had returned with didn’t inspire confidence in me to not fling a piece of meat or a utensil at someone while cutting into my food.

‘We could swap dishes. I’d be fine with the veal. It was in my top five earlier.’

I suffocated a sigh. His scallops looked more like an appetiser than a main. But what choice did I have? I could either eat the veal like the animal that put me in this position or go through the restaurant’s entire supply of wooden cutlery with nothing to show for the effort in my belly and possibly injure someone in the process. Neither option would do any favours for my image in the eyes of the guy I liked and whose bones I’d like to jump at some point, enhanced animal lust or not.

So, I agreed. I tried to draw out the meal for as long as I could. Between the teeny serving and the unwieldiness of the wooden cutlery, I was having a miserable time. Dinner had become a silent affair, a far cry from everything prior to this point. Contrary to the vibe I was putting out, the food had nothing to do with my dour mood. For the first time since I was turned, I wasn’t happy about what I was. Could I never truly lead a normal life? Did I have to lie to every potential suitor and fret about whether they’d accept that other side of me on top of all the intricacies of dating?

There ought to be a dating app for verified supernatural creatures.

‘How’s the veal?’ I said. I had to speak up: I wasn’t being fair to Jake by acting like a sullen teenager over something he had zero control over, and the silence was deafening.

‘It’s — I might’ve done you a favour. How about my — your scallops?’

‘As good as three bites can get. I can’t tell if it tastes funny because of the wooden fork.’

‘This has been a disaster, hasn’t it?’ He flashed a wry smile. ‘Can I be honest? I have no idea what possessed me to pick a place like this for a first date.’

‘It’s a nice place. And it hasn’t been a disaster.’ If anything, I was the disaster. As always.

‘How was the market?’

‘The market was great. I had an amazing time.’

‘Thank God. I’ll take one out of two.’

I reached across the table and placed my hand on top of his. He made things extra saucy by interlocking his fingers with mine. ‘Jake, it’s fine. Today has been wonderful. I should be sorry for making things awkward with my … allergy.’ Nope, that still sounded silly.

‘What? No, don’t be. It’s not your fault.’

It … kind of was.

‘How about ice cream after this? My treat. I’m certain the rhubarb will be so very pretty and so very … nothing.’

He hit the nail on the head. The food we had would do wonders for my Instagram feed while having done nothing for my diet. I appreciated his offer, though I was afraid it would take more than ice cream to fill me up properly … Then again, that was a problem that rested solely in my dominion, not his, and it was one I intended to solve by trawling the likes of Deliveroo and Uber Eats in the comfort of my underthings at home — the one true way to enjoy food.

I asked for the bill the second dessert arrived. I wanted to leave here as soon as possible. I had quite enough of the wooden cutlery. I felt like a child using them. And like I told Jake earlier, I was on the fence about whether to attribute the food’s slightly off taste to them or my unrefined taste buds. Even the rhubarb wasn’t spared. Dessert was supposed to be my safe space, dammit!

I footed the bill in its entirety despite his objections. It helped that the waitstaff presented it to me because I’d been the one who asked, and that I was quick with my card. Sisters watching out for each other, everyone. The plan was then to go about the rest of the evening as if it had slipped my mind to ask him for his half or even bring it up in the first place. It was the least I could do for putting a wee damper on dinner with my … me-ness. He was going to treat me to ice cream anyway. There. We were even now.

The best-laid plans of mice and men often went awry: Jake snatched the bill folder and, taking out his phone, said, ‘Do you have Paym, Pingit, or PayPal? Why am I only noticing now that they all start with P?’

I admitted defeat: ‘Paym.’ It might be harder for him — or anyone — to believe I had none of those apps than that I was a werewolf. Did I want to put that to the test? No.

My phone buzzed with the confirmation that my plan had been a dud. ‘Thank you. Now let’s blow this popsicle stand and head to a real one.’

We left and worked on our next destination outside the restaurant. The staff had to want us out of there as much as we wanted ourselves out of there. The time of day meant we had limited options: ice cream parlours in London seemed to think people would lose the mood for sweet treats the moment the sky turned dark and the air cooled. Inanity. We had to return to where our date started for the one place that was open at this hour. It was just as well: I needed the walk this time to clear my head after what happened at dinner. It hadn’t seemed to dull the shine of his opinion of me, at least. He was as chipper as ever. Unless he was a good actor and paid up as soon as he did so he could ghost me after this and find himself a date that didn’t have some bogus allergy to silver …

Me? Over-thinking things? Never.

‘Do you want to do takeout or eat in?’ I said when we found ourselves less than fifty metres away from the parlour tasked with plying us with ice cream for tonight without a say in the matter.

‘Let’s do takeout and walk back to Borough Station. Full circle.’

The place was crowded: the most logical outcome for the only ice cream parlour open at this time near a tourist hotspot in the middle of summer. Customer turnover was quick, however, and we left with our orders within fifteen minutes. As tempting as their sundaes and waffles — towering, decadent creations of sugary indulgence — looked, we went back to the basics after our overly sophisticated dinner. Unlike before, what we wanted came to us in a snap: for myself, a speculoos gelato; for Jake, a gelato, too, but make it salted caramel.

And this time, we could help ourselves to each other’s food. With permission, of course.

‘A fraction of the price, but infinitely better,’ I said.

‘I hope the same can be said of our second date.’

‘And what would that be?’

‘Dinner at Chez Walker. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?’

‘I do think so.’

‘It would have to be the weekend after next, though.’

‘Why? Got another date next Saturday?’ I had a firm enough grip on reality to recognise and accept that a guy like him had to be neck deep in matches.

‘No … next weekend’s the full moon. I thought you’d know.’

I stopped dead in my tracks. ‘Why would I?’ I buried my stammer under a bemused scoff. Like, why would anyone — any not-werewolf, which, as far as Jake was concerned, was what I was — care to know when the full moon was?

He, too, stopped walking and looked me dead in the eye. ‘Imogen, I know what you are.’

I wiped my palms on the front of my dress. They were suddenly so sweaty. So sweaty. Why were they so sweaty? Could he see that they were so sweaty? I tried to defuse the situation the best — and maybe only — way I knew how: ‘Are we quoting Twilight? I’ll have you know that I liked the book when I first read it in 2007. And I thought the movie wasn’t too bad either.’ This was true, and I wasn’t ashamed of it. Any female millennial who said they had felt nothing for Edward Cullen was a filthy liar.

‘I’m not ashamed either to say I read the book and watched the movie. But I’m serious.’

‘Okay … say it, then. Go on.’ Was that how the line went? I wasn’t going to look it up now. On a list of things that mattered in this moment, accurate movie quotes was nowhere near the top twenty.

‘You’re a werewolf. And I know how this sounds, so don’t humour me or —’ His tone had taken on a jittery lilt, uncharacteristic of someone who ought to be humoured, ridiculed (what his next word had to be), or — my worst-case scenario — feared.

‘How did you know?’

His mien changed in a manner that suggested that wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. Fuck it. Chris had trusted me enough to tell me the truth after a handful of dates, and he did it because he liked me a lot and he wanted to get it out of the way as soon as possible so that we could move on in some way. (Me asking him to turn me was the real curveball of that conversation.) The least I could do, really, was to extend that same courtesy to Jake. I liked him. I liked him a lot. If he had a problem with what I was, it was better that I found out now that he did than many months down the road. There was no element of compromise to my … condition.

‘You mean I’m —?’

‘Right? Not crazy?’ I showed him my palm. The burn had taken about an hour to reach the healing stage normal people would reach in a week or so. ‘Yeah.’

‘Damn …’ He cleared his throat. ‘How did I know? I was brought up on a steady diet of horror movies and read way too many young adult supernatural books in the day, more than I’d care to admit. That, and my ex-girlfriend’s second uncle was killed by a werewolf.’

‘Shit.’

‘I’m kidding — about the last part. The first two are true. My ex-girlfriend was a vampire, and one of her uncles — I can’t remember which one; it could’ve really been her second — was with a werewolf when we were together. Vampires and werewolves get along quite well, actually.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

‘How the tables have turned … I’m not.’ He went through his phone with his free hand and, upon finding what he’d been looking for, passed it to me. ‘Look.’

On the screen was a photo of him with his arm around a hazy figure in clothes that were otherwise in focus.

‘Drove me quite mad at first, thinking something was wrong with my phone. Then she went a little … overboard once, and the rest was history. She shared everything about her world — your world — with me. And I’m also in several online paranormal communities, so there’s that. It’s not all as hush-hush as one might think. It just takes an open mind.’

I returned his phone to him. ‘How did you figure me out?’

‘Your “allergy”. I had my suspicions about your scar. Your reaction to the silverware confirmed them. Allergies … don’t do this.’ He took my hand and stroked my palm. The sensation of his fingers on the raw skin was … electric. ‘I’m sorry I put you in an awkward position and you weren’t ready to tell me. What I said … just slipped out. I understand. It has to be fucking terrifying. It’s okay if you don’t want to see me again after this. But I want you to know that what you are doesn’t change a thing about how I feel about you. How you were turned is none of my business. The whole thing is, really. I did an arse thing. I’m an arse. First with the goddamn restaurant, now this. Way to fucking go, Walker,’ he said to himself quietly.

I flung my empty gelato container into the nearest bin, and then my arms around him. I helped throw away his for him, too. ‘You’re not an arse, Jake. This doesn’t change anything about how I feel about you, too. I like you a lot.’ His cheeks flushed deeply under the moonlight. ‘I was freaking out about this whole thing during dinner because I like you a lot. I am so relieved that we’ve gotten to lay our cards on the table.’ I fanned myself with my hand. Don’t cry, Imogen! ‘And because I don’t want there to be any more lies between us, it was my ex-boyfriend who turned me, and he did it because I wanted it.’

‘Oh. Yeah, it still doesn’t change a thing.’ His lips landed on my forehead in a peck. ‘Okay, I never imagined the topic of our exes would come up so often during our first date. Oh, well. Guess they had more of an impact on us than we’d like to think.’

‘Yeah’ — I chuckled, ‘let’s keep walking.’

I peeled myself off him. Our hands remained intertwined. Like dinner, the remaining walk — as short as it was — to the station was a quiet one. Unlike dinner, it was more so that we were simply basking, revelling, in the afterglow of our attraction to each other and each other’s presence. The world felt right again, just as it did at the farmers market.

The next time we spoke was on the train platform. ‘Thank you for the lovely time,’ I said, ‘and for being such a sweetheart.’ I waved my bouquet at him. It still looked pristine despite all the walking we did. ‘For everything.’

‘Thank you, too. I had an amazing time with you today. I can assure you that Chez Walker will serve larger portions than what we had earlier.’

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘The weekend after next, then?’

‘Yes,’ I said, grinning. ‘I’d be down for any time before the weekend, too, if Chez Walker is open then.’

‘I’ll speak with the chef.’

He moved in for a goodbye kiss, which I seized wholeheartedly. His smell and the sound of his heartbeat flooded my senses. I could feel his heart beating against his chest under my touch, thumping, thumping away for every second our lips lingered on each other’s. I had to contain myself and keep things G-rated and light, as such kisses were wont to be, though my instincts were screaming, baying, at me to get to satisfying at least one craving tonight. I was the one to break off the kiss for fear of going too far.

‘Just in time,’ said Jake, his eyes doing that thing they did whenever he smiled. ‘My train’s here. I’ll see you next week?’

‘I thought you said you’ll speak with the chef about next week.’

‘I realised I don’t care what the chef thinks. He’ll be fine with it anyhow: he doesn’t have to bust out the good silverware.’

‘Goodbye, Jake.’

‘See you, Imogen. Message me when you get home?’

‘I will.’

We waved at each other, right before the train doors swallowed him up. My train came soon after, too. I spent the entire ride home wondering not what to fill the void that was my stomach with, but what fresh hell the universe had in store for me in return for scoring me a guy like Jake.

[pathogenliliaceae]

Thoughts on Jill Valentine

Hello, friends! My responsibilities for my trading company job have abated in the interim, so I thought perhaps I would come back around to Jill, as promised. 

Thoughts on Jill Valentine:

I will begin this by saying that it is appropriate that she was asked alongside Mia because there is one outstanding issue that I have between the both of them: The need to be saved. Though I find Jill to be leagues more competent.

We’ll get to it in full a bit later. 

I will make no secrets that Jill has never been my most favourite of protagonists. Most of those issues stem from “3: Nemesis” and Five, though I am not adverse to including bits from One and Revelations. In one word, Jill is tolerable. Though, if given a choice (depending upon who my choices are) I will usually pick someone else.

A bit of background on Miss Valentine: I am utterly convinced that Capcom has changed her birthdate. I remember quite vividly scoffing that they made her birthdate Valentine’s Day, but now that I look it up again it seems its in May. Well, that’s at least a half a point in her favour. It’s become less mind-numbingly stupid. She is French-Japanese-American, whose father was a professional thief. In addition, she received Delta Force training through the US Army. Unusually adept at lock-picking, she then (apparently) gains the moniker - the Master of Unlocking. She also, again apparently, is adept at bomb disposal, though I cannot remember an instance in which this is exhibited. Though I can remember many instances when this would have come in handy. Jill. 

Post-Delta Force and US Army tenancy, Wesker recruited Jill for STARS - described as an elite special forces operation for the RPD comprised of military veterans and weapons specialists (put a leaf in this for when I eventually get to Rebecca Chambers). Joining her in STARS are Forest, who she already had a friendship with prior to working together, and Chris. She is the only female officer on STARS Alpha Team, and works as a Breaking and Entering specialist. Forward onto the Mansion Incident.

Again, I’ve mentioned that if given a choice, I will usually not pick Jill to play as. However, that is not to say that I have not played Jill’s scenario in One. My primary complaint about Jill’s Scenario is as follows: It is fundamentally easier than Chris’. She’s got the lockpick set, so she doesn’t need to find Old Keys. She has more inventory space. In the space where she finds the zombie in the bathtub, she stomps his head mid-cutscene and does not have to fight him. She starts with the handgun and receives higher powered weapons whilst Chris has a higher chance of critical headshots. She can mix chemicals to weaken Plant 42 and cut the boss fight in half. Jill can skip certain puzzles in Arklay with Barry’s help, one under the guise of “saving” her from the falling ceiling where you retrieve the shotgun. No need to find the broken shotgun, and you have access to the shotgun as soon as you unlock the area which makes accessing the Armour Key much easier. I used to believe that this was a reflection of the character, but now I believe it is a bit of thinly veiled misogyny on Capcom’s part. ): 

About the opening to her scenario, after running amok in the forest and into the mansion - “There are only three STARS members left now. Captain Wesker, Barry, and myself. We don’t know where Chris is.” YOU’VE JUST HAD HIM AT THE DOOR! HOW HAVE YOU LOST HIM? Also, check your maths, Jill. That’s four STARS members. We have one negative point here in that she’s managed to lose her partner in the amount of time it takes to cross a threshold. Anyhow, like how it is when you play as Chris, the other is locked in the cell in the labs and must be released with the MO discs prior to the T-002 battle. Canonically, Jill escapes with Chris and Barry. Chris escapes with Jill and Rebecca. Rebecca does not make an appearance in Jill’s game, nor Barry in Chris’. Brad is there in the background, flying the helicopter he had damned them with at the beginning. It’s a bit of a flub.

Moving on to 3: Nemesis and the Remake and whatever happens in between the events of Arklay and the destruction of Raccoon City. Gathering from memos in Two and Three, shortly after the Arklay Incident, Chris and Jill take their concerns to Chief Irons, requesting the launch of an investigation into Umbrella and all the related shenanigans. Irons, being involved and heavily steeped in wrongdoing, denies this request. STARS all but disbands, as Chris leaves for Europe in August 1998, Barry moves his family to Canada and follows after Chris, Rebecca is doing fuck-all, and Irons has suspended Jill and ordered her confined to her flat. That leaves... Brad Vickers as STARS. The only member. In office. Everyone else is dead, suspended, or AWOL. I suppose one way to operate as a corrupt organisation is to keep the most inept person as your only functioning operative. I digress, this is about Jill and not the bucket of maladroitness that is Brian Irons.

Jill remains in Raccoon City under the pretense of attempting to locate NEST, with the intention of following behind Chris, Barry, and Rebecca(?) a bit later. I believe also she was intending to sort through the rumours of the development of Golgotha, but I cannot find accurate citation of that. Things that she manages to do whilst confined to her flat for a month behind the departure of the other STARS members: Not that at all. I have long wondered what it was that was actually keeping Jill in her flat, aside from orders from her no-longer boss, when she had intentions of leaving on 30 September. I don’t imagine that with what remains of STARS poking around, save for Brad, that Irons would put a definite date on the lifting of her suspension. “Yes, now you may leave to bring down the organisation that I am tangentially working for”. The Three Remake expands on this a bit, as it seems that perhaps Jill was not emotionally nor mentally suited for travel outside of the flat. In which case, I question whether steeping herself in all things Umbrella was perhaps exacerbating her condition. I do believe that there is a fundamentally large difference between Three: Remake Jill and 3: Nemesis Jill. First off, trousers. Enough said. I don’t do my personal investigations sitting in a pleather mini-skirt and a tube top with a rather practical jumper tied around my waist, and neither should you. I much rather imagine a suspension to be carried out in pyjamas, but again I am not the type of person to dress at home if I’m not needed to.

Secondly, Three: Remake Jill holds up much better against Nemesis without the help of Carlos (who is also rather incompetent and sexist), than her original counterpart. Her reactions to goings on are much more believable, and for much of the game she has absolutely no issue putting Carlos within appropriate boundaries. He tries to explain to her what a radio is, she snaps at him. He touches her, she tells him not to. You are a stranger, sir, please observe courtesy. Not to mention, a stranger who is working for the organisation we’ve just found out is responsible for the development of bioweapons and viral agents. At least bother to ask her name, first. A bit of a hint, Carlos: It isn’t “supercop”. If we are to continue on with this Jill further on in the series, I will support it. I would quite enjoy a long-standing female protagonist that has no issue scoffing at male protagonist foolishness and scolding their perspectives. Perhaps it is a good thing that she and Leon have never met in any official capacity.

Three: Remake Jill still falls prey to damsel-syndrome, as I’ll call it, upon being infected by Nemesis. Carlos comes in as the knight in shining armour, having become infatuated with her after knowing her for exactly four hours. I like to imagine that this New Jill could wake up from her comatose state, shout about her autonomy, and then go back to sleep. This is however, remedied by some sort of favour-trading as she does save Carlos in a quid-pro-quo a bit later. I do have concerns about how far Jill allowed Nikolai to get without shooting him down, but that’s unimportant in the long run. There is also a bit of inconsistency between games in how Jill and Carlos escape Raccoon City and what happened just prior, but those are unimportant to our examining of Jill.

All in all, New Jill is portrayed as a competent individual, which I think serves much better to support her character in instances such as the Fall of Umbrella chapter in The Umbrella Chronicles, which leads into the formation of the BSAA and her involvement with them.

Functionally, from 2003 until at least 2009, Chris and Jill mostly function as a singular unit. 2005- they work together to subdue T-ALOS. 2004- The Queen Zenobia, Queen Semiramis fiasco in which Jill carries Parker through a sinking ship as Chris slams doors in her face- as loving partners do. (I do want to mention in an aside that so many people find themselves in trouble whilst looking for Chris. It is the plot of NO FEWER than four games. One, Two, Code: Veronica, and Revelations. Maybe even a bit of Six. Call it four and a half). Revelations does delve into a bit of why I find Jill to be competent amongst the ranks of highly amateur BSAA agents. First off, she reads the manuals for things. She realises the importance of memos! Secondly, she is shown deducing and explaining quite a bit about the situation they find themselves in to Parker, who is often none-the-wiser. An argument could be made that Parker is a newly ported FBC emigre and therefore does not yet have the same expectation but I disagree having seen the... eptitude of other agents. She is rather instrumental in uncovering the whole FBC - Veltro - BSAA mess and quite honestly tends to hold her own in that installment. If only the dodge function worked better. Anyhow, back to her partnership with Chris- it canonically ends with the Lost in Nightmares campaign in Five. In which she quite literally bowls Wesker out of a window in defense of Chris and (sort of) the world. If there is any secret method of getting me to enjoy a character, it is self-sacrifice for the sake of another. There is something so beautiful about it. Except Ethan, nothing can redeem him. Jill functions best as a character when she is partnered with Chris. I cannot say that in any of these scenarios I have profound issues with her. Forward onto the events of Five and about where we will end this tangent.

Jill and Wesker, obviously, both survive the fall from the Spencer estate. Jill is kept for experimentation due to the existing muted strain of T in her body from the events of Three. The antibodies she possessed were used by Wesker in attempts to make Uroboros more accepting of human host bodies. During the time that she was “in his care” (poor choice of words, I know), he repeatedly injected her with Progenitor strains and took the resulting antibodies. As a result of the testing and antibody removal, Jill’s hair, skin, and eyes lightened in cryostasis (I am still trying to make sense of this bit). Once she had reached the extent of her usefulness, Wesker volunteered her for the P30 project, a Las Plagas extension that utilised chemical compounds for mind control. However, due to the high expulsion rate, the chemical had to be constantly injected, explaining the injector attached to her body.

This requires her, again, rescue at the hands of Chris and Sheva. Once the injector is removed, the other two move on after Wesker, and Jill promptly collapses into unconsciousness. She is found by BSAA Delta Team Captain Josh Stone, who escorts her to a helicopter and initiates a rendezvous with Chris and Sheva on the volcano.  I will stand up for Jill on this one- I do not at all believe that if Jill was on the helicopter, that Sheva should have been the one to wield the rocket launcher. That honour should have belonged to the two original STARS Alpha Team members alone. It’s simply poetic, and I am sorry for Sheva, but it would have been much more perfect. 

Currently, we’ve not seen anything from Jill since Five. The only mention to her current condition is that she is at the BSAA undergoing testing and rehabilitation for her time spent with Wesker. In her words: “...ever since getting back I've been locked up in this lab as they run tests on me day in and day out. It's every bit as boring as it sounds”. We leave Jill’s chronology with her being bored. Fitting. In short, I believe that Jill has quite a bit of potential in her competency, and I am actually quite interested to see what her reaction would be to the BSAA using bioweapons. We’ve not heard from her in twelve years, so one can only assume that she is still alive somewhere, being bored. If they are going to take her character in the same direction they appear to be going in the Three: Remake, I would not at all be adverse to seeing her again in a future standalone installment.  That being said, I have quite the backlog of characters to talk about! Please give me the benefit of the doubt when waiting on these. I’ve got work to do, tea to drink, games to play, and characters to analyse.

[traincat]

I’ve read Waid and Hickman’s FF runs and am currently reading Zdarsky’s 2 in One. I’m planning on eventually reading the Lee/Kirby run. Can I ask, what other runs would you recommend? Is Claremont’s good? Sorry for bothering.

I LOVE Waid and Hickman’s Fantastic Four runs, and Zdarsky’s Marvel Two-In-One was excellent to the point where one of my lingering disappointments is that Marvel brought the Fantastic Four back in a way that prematurely cut off Zdarksy’s 2n1. I know I said I wanted them back but wow did we all get monkey’s paw’d on that one. Zdarsky did really excellent stuff with both Ben and Johnny and the multiverse hopping was honestly fun and interesting. Lee/Kirby is also, in my opinion, just a really terrific run -- it lays the groundwork for not only the future of the Fantastic Four but a lot of big concepts for the Marvel Universe in general, and I think it holds up really well by modern day storytelling standards. Lee’s sense of humor works well with the retrofuturistic vibe and Kirby’s art is always wonderful. In particular I think it’s interesting to look back on The Galactus Trilogy (Fantastic Four #48-50) as the granddaddy of all event comics, for better or worse. 

Claremont -- okay, I love Claremont’s run, let me start off by saying that. Claremont’s run follows on what is in my opinion one of the worst periods of Fantastic Four canon, and I mean bad to the point where the literal canon at that point was that to get things back on track the Fantastic Four had to be put in a bubble universe. Claremont’s run kicks in one or two issues after their return to the main Marvel universe and it’s so fun. I think Fantastic Four is one of those series that kind of flourishes in adversity and Claremont’s run starts off with the Fantastic Four trying to regain their footing in a world that had assumed them dead, their Baxter Building gone, living in a warehouse property. Claremont, in my opinion, also has one of the best if not the best handle on characterization for a lot of key Fantastic Four figures, including Johnny, Reed, and Sue. His Ben is also very good, but I think Ben in particular tends to be an easier sell for a lot of comic book writers -- the outcast, the gruff man, the comic relief. He’s easier to identify with than Reed, the Smartest Man on Earth, or Johnny, defined by his youth and beauty and queercoded since the ‘60s, or Sue, by sheer factor of being a woman. So I think a lot of writers identify with Ben first and foremost and put the most love and care into his depiction, whereas the others are a little easier for them to leave by the wayside. Which isn’t a bad thing -- I love that one of the most beloved comic book characters is also one of Marvel’s few canonically Jewish characters, but there is a wealth of truly excellent Ben canon in comparison to the other three. Especially with Johnny, there’s no one else who has written for Fantastic Four who has put nearly as much thought and detail into Johnny’s relationship with his powers, both the positive and the negative, as Claremont has, even reworking the origin story from Lee and Kirby’s joyous scene of Johnny flaming on for the first time into a deeply traumatizing incident -- being sixteen and traumatized and bursting into uncontrollable flames. 

(Fantastic Four v3 #11) There’s also a lot of women in Claremont’s run! A valid criticism of Fantastic Four canon is that by its initial core team makeup it tends to be lacking in female characters compared to some other big Marvel staples, but Claremont brings in a ton, from Reed’s college friend and fellow genius Alyssa Moy (who has been done dirty by pretty much every other writer who’s ever touched her, including Waid and Hickman) to multiversal bounty hunter Bounty to the most platonic of Johnny’s gal pals Caledonia to Valeria Von Doom, a “time dancing” teenage incarnation of the baby Sue lost back in Byrne’s run, who sets up baby Val’s eventual return. Claremont is also king of Reed vs Doom setups -- if you haven’t read his Fantastic Four vs X-Men miniseries, I highly recommend it, and he brings a lot of the two sides of the same coin energy from that into his Fantastic Four run. 

The downside of Claremont’s run is that the plot is always there and always running and I could not explain half of it if you paid me. Things certainly happen! Like all the time! For seemingly no apparent reason! Stuff gets set up and then it’s not resolved and now we are in Latveria! I don’t think this is necessarily all that detrimental -- the run is still massively fun and the characterization is always fresh and interesting. It’s just that sometimes you have no idea what’s going on and you have to roll with it. And then sometimes you do know what’s going on but in the way where you know Claremont was just writing it because it’s his kink. Which is like, whatever. As authorial ids go, you can pretty consistently do worse than Claremont’s, I’ll give him that. So I do recommend on it the whole, as long as you’re not going into expecting the kind of plots either Hickman or Waid brought the book. Claremont’s is kind of like “stuff happens and it’s either weird or fun so just don’t pay too much attention to it.” 

Aside from Claremont, I feel like I generally like far more Fantastic Four runs than I dislike -- but also I don’t hate Millar’s run, which is honestly bad, so it’s possible I’m just very forgiving with the Fantastic Four. I really like Robinson’s run, which is the last run before the Great Fantastic Four Drought of 2015-2018. It’s short, self-contained, and devoted entirely to one story, so it’s pretty tightly written, with good characterization and some very shiny art by Leonard Kirk. Straczynski’s run is decent enough for the fact that it intersects with Civil War -- I think he does his best to get into the heads of the characters re: their actions in Civil War -- and it leads directly into Dwayne McDuffie’s run, another brief one where Black Panther and Storm take over for Reed and Sue. Very fun. Marvel Knights 4 is also a fairly recent run that’s got some strong moments in it, although I feel it’s a little inconsistent in its handling of the characters. It’s still fun, though. For an older, longer run, I like Simsonson’s -- the art is very dynamic, even if the storyline kind of gets too involved with itself. 

(FF #337)

I recommend Byrne’s run with the caveat that there’s plenty to dislike about it and plenty of reasons to avoid it, not the least of it being Byrne himself as a creator and a person. It’s heavily sexist in how it deals with Sue, it retcons a huge age gap into Sue and Reed’s relationship, and Byrne’s early departure sets up my all time least favorite Fantastic Four story. (Though that one is Roger Stern and later Tom DeFalco’s fault.) It is historic as Fantastic Four runs go, though, and there’s a lot in later runs that’s built over it or references it or borrows from it. So it’s a rec with a lot of caveats and I also understand why people might give it a skip -- I think it’s more important for an understanding of the greater body of Fantastic Four canon and the impact it had than for the actual run itself. I do think Byrne has some very interesting subtext with Johnny, although it never come to fruition, and while his Sue falls victim to a lot of sexism, I really like what he does with the character of Frankie Raye, who like poor Alyssa Moy I don’t think has ever gotten really good treatment ever since.

I have mixed feelings on both Millar and Fraction’s runs, not in the least because I think they end very similarly -- and that Millar did it better, which doesn’t say great things. Millar’s run is kind of like a trashy popcorn flick version of Fantastic Four; it’s not actually good, but I can’t say I don’t like the terrible eldritch monster in Scotland Christmas arc (Fantastic Four #564-565) and I’m sort of into future Sue. Fraction, on the other hand, takes a space road trip and makes it boring, which is the greatest Fantastic Four sin of all. He’s one of the rare writers who I think actually writes a bad Ben Grimm -- not the least because his run goes out of its way to try and label it Ben’s own fault that he was transformed into a monster. I do really like his FF (just the initials) though. 

The only Fantastic Four runs I can say I really truly dislike are Tom DeFalco’s and Dan Slott’s, which sort of unfortunate because DeFalco’s is both long influential (I have no idea why because it’s honestly terrible like in terms of storytelling) and because Slott’s is happening right now. DeFalco comes onto the book on Fantastic Four #356 and stays on until Fantastic Four #416, at which point Marvel hit a literal retcon button to get out of the mess he’d made. (This leads into Fantastic Four v2, which is largely skippable -- it’s basically a mid-90s retelling of a bunch of early Fantastic Four stories that leads back into the FF heading back to the main universe.) DeFalco’s responsible for the Skrull retcon in the JohnnyAlicia marriage and for dragging that out for over 50 issues, the entirety of which feel like he was writing without a plan or outline or literally anything, and I have never felt like a comic book was attempting to gaslight me through its own incompetence or refusal to commit to things it set up itself as badly as I do with DeFalco’s run. (I like other non-Fantastic Four Tom DeFalco runs. I just hate this one.) Dan Slott’s run is just 25 issues and counting of badly written emotionless unfunny pages blandly stapled together and I so badly want Marvel to kick him off the book for its own good.

[allisondraste]

on writing kiddos

Hi, hello there, it’s me again back with the first bit of meta in a really long time. I’ve been incredibly distracted with school as well as my longfic, which was actually the inspiration for this post.  Just to provide some context, I write a story that spans the lives of my two protagonists from the time they are young children, all the way to their mid twenties, highlighting pivotal moments in their childhood that have had some lasting impact on their present day selves, and as such, I have spent quite a lot of time writing from the perspective of precocious kids and moody teens.  

Fortunately, I love kids, and I’ve had years of experience in both being a big sister and working professionally with kids as both a childcare worker and a therapist.  I’ve gotten to spend a lot of time around kiddos and learn the inner workings of their amazing, rapidly developing brains, and so I’m here to share some of the things I’ve learned AND how it can be applied in a writing situation.  I know that lots of people have apprehensions when writing kids, and so I hope that my anecdotal tips will be helpful to someone out there.

I’ll drop the rest behind a handy dandy read more to spare your all’s feeds. ;D

Age and Cognitive Development

When we write adult characters, part of getting their characterization pinned down is understanding how they think, and the same thing applies to kiddos! Cognitive and socio-emotional development are long-researched topics, so there are a multitude of varying theories, and it can be quite complex to break down into neat categories that apply to all kids.  In fact, all kids develop at different rates, despite following the same general trajectory.

Generally speaking, children start out understanding the world primarily through their senses, reflexes, and movements (interactions with the environment), and end with a fairly complex system of abstraction and understanding of hypotheticals.  (Note that these development ranges are based upon those who are neurotypical and neurodiverse characters would not necessarily have the same markers, so if anyone has any specific tips for writing neurodiverse kids and would like to chime in, please feel free to do so!)

0-2 years - highly sensory/motor based, lots of reflexes; learn the difference between self and environment and differences between objects.  Emotions develop more rapidly, beginning with anger, disgust, fear, surprise, happiness, and gradually developing more and more complicated feelings.  Even at 2 years old, they are likely to not have a solid grasp on labeling the ways they are feeling, and things are mostly behavioral and reflexive. 

2-7 years - children begin to understand symbols and develop language, beginning with the basics and progressing to fairly complex thoughts.  Children between these ages think in a very concrete fashion and are highly reliant upon objects, but they do begin to pretend and roleplay. Children around these ages are egocentric and usually struggle to take the perspective of others. However, they begin to develop the ability to identify and express their feelings and thoughts simply, but struggle to understand the thoughts and feelings of others. 

Mommy had a scrunched up face when she looked a the mess in the house. Billy didn’t really know why her face did that sometimes. (approx 4ish)

7 - 11(ish) - Development of perspective-taking and concrete problem-solving. Thoughts gradually become more complex and holistic, though children at this stage of development take things literally, and at face-value. They typically can understand their own feelings and infer the feelings of others from facial expressions, body language, etc., although they may be inaccurate in their assumptions. 

Mommy’s face scrunched up when she looked at the mess Billy made in the floor.  It was the same face she made when Daddy didn’t take his shoes off before stepping on the carpet.  It usually meant mommy was annoyed  (Approx. 7-8)

Mom’s face wrinkled when she looked at the mess Billy had left in the floor.  He began to pick his things up so she wouldn’t fuss at him. (Approx 10 or 11)

11+ - The ability to think in the abstract and understand hypotheticals begins to develop around age 11, however, it’s different for everyone.  Children and teens usually start to have rather complex thoughts and make inferences based on subtle cues.  They’re able to manipulate information mentally and come to develop their own opinions and conclusions. 

Billy’s mother wasn’t even home yet, and he could already see the look on her face she would have when she saw the mess on the floor.  He hurredly began to scrub the stain from the rug.  He was going to be in so much trouble. He knew it.  

Teenagerdom - Most teens have all the complex thoughts and emotions that adults have, but often have less experience and/or ability to cope with and regulate those thoughts and feelings. Many teens are stuck in this place of being expected to behave in an adult way, while still being treated as a child.  It’s a rough time.  Not to mention, teenagers experience a re-emergence of  egocentrism that takes the form of “Everyone is watching and judging me all the time,” and also “Nobody has ever experienced what I am experiencing and if they have experienced it, then they haven’t experienced it to this degree.”  That all settles down with cognitive maturation and experiences; however, the experiences of teenagers often extend well into the 20s. 

Examining the mess on the floor, Billy knew that his mother was going to kill him.  Murder.  She’d chew him up and spit him back out, never to see the light of day again.  It was the end.  Unless of course he could scrub the stubborn stain from the rug.  This had to be the worst thing that could have possibly happened. 

Personal Experience and Intelligence

As I mentioned above, those age ranges are broad, general “this is sort of what should be happening when,” but they’re more guidelines rather than hard and fast rules.  When writing children, it is helpful to consider the personal experiences a child has had in their lives up to that point as well as their intelligence.  Those are not the measure of a person (even a little one), but they make a huge difference in the rate at which a child matures and interacts with the world.  Generally kids who have more difficult upbringings and those who end up parenting themselves and/or caring for siblings, often seem older than they really are, particularly in regard to their behavior. 

Just to provide some examples for reference, the children that I write in my story are mostly nobles who have relatively comfortable, safe, and happy childhoods.  My Cousland, Liss, is generally a carefree, impulsive, emotional, messy, privileged child, and so I modeled her development more closely in line with the “guidelines.”  Nathaniel is also a noble, but he’s more thoughtful, and has kind of been placed into a parental role in that his dad is emotionally abusive at the very least, and after his mother dies, he is the rock that his siblings stand on, and at that point in time, he is only 10.  He has to grow up a lot faster than he may have had to otherwise. As a very strong counterpoint, there are other characters who do not have any environmental privileges during their childhood.  A very good portrayal of this sort of thing is this comparison of Isabela and Hawke’s respective upbringings.

Both intelligence and life experiences can lead to a quicker rate of cognitive development and maturation in some cases, that does not mean that they are “grown up” or in anyway done developing.  Even the brightest kids, even the kids who have faced unbelievable adversity are still kids and they often still experience impulsivity, emotion dysregulation, and other things that one might not see in adults with the same experiences.  Furthermore, some kids may not even experience advanced development, instead regressing from the lack of social support and modeling from attachment figures. 

Basically, nothing is hard and fast. 

Personality

The next thing I wanted to touch upon is personality.  I think there is a tendency to portray all kids as Standard Kids (which I have endearingly coined Standard Kid Syndrome).  It is all well and good if the intention is just to show a Standard Kid; however, if you really want to dig deep into a character, into who that child is, it’s so important to consider personality traits.  From birth, children have dispositions, and as they grow and learn more about themselves and the world, those dispositions become personality.  Personality traits should shine through very early on!  Kids can be open to experience or rigid and anxious, they can be introverted or extroverted, they can be impulsive or restrained, they can be aggressive, meek, funny, serious, meticulous, silly, cool, gruff, grumpy, snarky, sassy, nerdy, quirky, shy, friendly, withdrawn, and so on and so forth.  Children are new humans; they are not incomplete humans. 

The Kid Voice

When writing from the point of view of a child, all of the things discussed above factor into word choice.  Just like writing adult characters, the way a kid talks in dialogue, or narrates even, is influenced by a blend of so many different things.  Young kids’ descriptions are going to have simpler sentence structures and words.  They may introspect less and observe more.  They may express themselves through their bodies and actions more.  They may have trouble describing what they’re feeling, or understanding what they’re seeing.  Teens may describe things more dramatically and intensely than similar adults would.  They may not.  What is important is considering the mix of traits and experiences they have in relation to cognitive development.  It’s really no different from writing any other character.  It just takes research and planning to get in The Zone.

TL;DR

- Understanding how kids think is a good starting point to writing kids

- Personal experiences, intelligence, and the interaction of qualities can influence how a child thinks in a multitude of ways

- Kids have personalities!  They’re not blank slates that have yet to be filled.  They are whole people, and it’s good to give proper care to show those unique, wonderful little minds that they have

- It’s not so much different than writing adults! It just takes some time spent looking through a different lens!

- This is not a comprehensive reference by any means, so please feel free to chime in!

[guiltysecretpasttime]

Adversity

A fanfic story

Overview: Lin and Tenzin are both at the height of their respective careers – she with the Metalbending Police and he with the Air Nation. Questions about their future begin to arise and things come to a head when Lin responded to an emergency call. Would her job take them from each other forever? Eventual HEA. Non-canon compliant, AU. (Notes at the end of the post.)

Chapter 1

Lin was once again pulling a double shift, finishing up this month’s crime stats report that needed to be filed at city hall tomorrow. Aside from having the routine meeting at city hall, tomorrow also marks Lin’s first ninety days as the chief of police.

She lightly rubbed a crick at her neck as she proofread the document.

Having taken over the Republic City Police Department when her mother, the metalbender Toph Beifong, stepped down, Lin Beifong recognized that taking on this responsibility goes beyond upholding the family legacy.

She pushed on, double checking the figures. Hoping that this was enough at least to keep the council contented. While some of the council members saw her growing up, she knew they were going to be fair as in all their dealings. However, the rest of the members were likely to be more difficult with her, with the mistaken notion that they needed to compensate for the perceived bias of the city founders. It also did not help that her mother was not as charismatic as the other founders.

Lin sighed tiredly as she pulled out another case folder; she had her work cut out.

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

Tenzin frowned deeply at his bowl, as though the stew his mother prepared offended him greatly.

His sullen mood was out of place amidst the boisterous laughter of his family at the dinner table. On another day, he would have eaten his sea prune stew with gusto. Tonight, he should have done so as well, given that his mother went all out with the dishes as the extended family was present.

Bumi, his eldest brother, arrived two days ago on shore leave. His uncle Sokka, meanwhile, landed at Air Temple island that afternoon, in preparation for tomorrow’s council meeting.

His uncle continued to regal the table with stories, getting more and more exaggerated as the night wore on. His father, the Avatar Aang laughed accordingly at the right moments, encouraging the stories further. Beside Sokka, his wife Suki held his glass upright without skipping a beat as he pounded on the table in emphasis on how heavy the imported cabbages were in the Southern Water Tribe. Tenzin’s sister Kya chatted their aunt’s ear off at her other side.

It was a lovely meal indeed and the company was not so bad either. In fact, Tenzin was looking forward to this family dinner. The week was ending and it was particularly challenging one.

He had a long session with the new Air Acolytes earlier and he had a vague impression that they were not taking him seriously as they would his father. He just wanted to have a relaxing night with the family and Lin.

Granted, Lin was practically family. But it was her that Tenzin was specifically anticipating to spend time with that night. He had a lot of things on his mind but he knew Lin’s presence would help tamp down his worries.

Katara noticed her son’s preoccupation as the dinner went on. Every couple of minutes or so, Tenzin would look up at the doorway, as though expecting someone. As the night went on, his mood turned sour.

Presently, he attempted to stab the sea prune with his spoon.

“Tenzin, dear, would you like a fork?” Katara called out, lightly touching his arm, startling him from his reverie.

“Wha-?” Tenzin was drawn out of his thoughts, as the stew splashed on his robes when the prune slipped from his utensil.

“Fork? Or a knife?” His mother held out a small table knife to him. “Is something bothering you?” Katara had an inkling on what (or rather who) was on his mind. “How was the session today?”

Tenzin shrugged but took the knife. “It was fine, mother.” He wanted to share his misgivings about the air acolytes but did not want his siblings to overhear. “We were able to start and end on time.” Lame as it was, that was the only positive outcome of that meditation session.

“That’s good to hear,” Katara took a bite of her own stew. “They are from the Southern Air Temples, right? How is the restoration going on from their end, did they share anything about it?” She intended to draw him away from his obviously stormy ruminations.

Just as Tenzin was about to respond, Sokka suddenly turned his attention to mother and son. “Heeey – I knew I forgot something! Where’s Lin?”

Tenzin grew uncomfortable as the table went silent, each person looking at him expectantly. He cleared his throat as he loosened his collar. “She’s still at the precinct, I believe.” He did not miss Katara and Aang share a look but he chose not to acknowledge it.

“That young lady is working too hard,” Sokka run his hand at his beard. “On the other hand, look at her sister Suyin, with two kids at the age of twenty-four. I mean, sure they’re both productive, if you get what I mean. Am I right?” He elbowed his wife, looking for affirmation. Suki looked nonplussed. So he leaned to his other side, elbowing Bumi instead, who gave him a thumbs up.

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

Finally, at half past eleven in the evening, Lin found herself unlocking the door to the apartment after satisfactorily completing the documents in time for tomorrow’s meeting.

“Tenzin, I’m home.” She called out, as she took off her boots and removed her armor. “I’m sorry I’m late.” She pulled her long black hair from the bun it was in the whole day. “Had to finish up some paper-.” She finally realized she was alone. “Work.”

The dark and empty room puzzled her but she ignored the unease that crept and proceeded to the bathroom to wash her face.

Seeing the empty space where she and Tenzin kept their toothbrushes and toiletries, Lin cursed.

She just realized she forgot something tonight.

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

After somewhat successfully averting the disaster called Sokka’s big mouth by introducing dessert, Katara followed her youngest child who excused himself to the patio once dessert was served. She studied his stiff posture as he gazed at the distant lights of Republic City.

“Son, is everything okay with Lin?” Katara was not one to beat around the bush. “She’s not in trouble, is she?”

Tenzin shook his head quietly. “She’s fine, Mother.” He really did not want to discuss his relationship right now.

“Don’t mind Sokka,” Katara plodded on. “He’s just probably excited to hear about more grandchildren within our group. You know how he doted on Iroh when Zuko used to bring him over.” She smiled in recollection how Sokka had pranced around with the toddler on his back, pretending to be a dragon.

“Iroh is just a couple of years younger than me.” Tenzin grumbled, not liking where the conversation was headed.

Katara waved him off. “You were well in your teens by then – a far cry from toddling little Iroh.” Seeing no further comment coming from her companion, she gestured to the side buildings. “Do you want me to call on the Air Acolytes to prepare Oogi tonight? I had them bring him to the barns as I thought you’d be staying overnight. They can easily prepare him for your quick trip back to Republic City though.”

“No, it’s fine.” The tall airbender was starting to hate that word: fine. “Oogi’s probably resting already. And I haven’t decided yet if I’ll stay tonight,” His equanimity would be sorely tested should he see Lin now.  “I can always borrow a glider to get back to the mainland.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” His mother gave him a side hug. “You know your father and I are always here for you and Lin, right?”  She felt him nod. “Don’t stay out too late – it’s a bit chilly these nights.”

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

Lin fought with herself as to whether she should drop a call to Air Temple Island at this time. She wanted to speak to Tenzin. Correction: she needed to apologize for forgetting about the family dinner.

Seeing that it was almost midnight with no hint of Tenzin or Oogi in sight, Lin decided to risk waking the household up.

“Pick up, pick up,” Lin murmured as she heard the phone ringing.

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

Unbeknownst to her, the raucous cacophony made by a drunk Sokka, Bumi and Kya drowned out other noises within Aang’s house.

Rolling his eyes as he saw Bumi throwing back a large tankard, Tenzin decided to retreat to his bedroom to bid his time before going home to Lin. There was no way he would allow himself to be dragged into Sokka’s drinking game, which was likely to happen should they see him crossing the threshold to glide away. With a highly skilled waterbender in said drinking group, he did not want to take any risks of possibly being pulled into the ocean at this late hour.

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

With fatigue eventually overcoming him, Tenzin barely felt the mattress shifting nor did he feel the bed dip with the weight of another person joining him. He sighed sleepily as he curled closer to the source of warmth beside him.

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

Note:  Hello to my lone reader! So here’s my trial in creating a Linzin fanfic (cross-posted in archiveofourown too). I’m hesitant to post something online but it felt nice to share it with you. Not sure if this plot has already been done, or if this is a familiar trope already, but just the same I’ll be posting it here as I’ve started to rediscover the fandom recently. I’ve been fascinated by the Linzin pairing and I wanted to give it a shot. There was something very poignant about them and while I’m a sucker for angst, I wanted to try to give it a try to give them a happy ending. This is also non-canon compliant, obviously. Let me know what you think! 😊

==

Other chapters here:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

[consumedkings-archive]

🔥💐💎💕 + elliot & isolde ((i call this move 'if stella can slam your asks, so can i!')) 🤍

!!!! kate i just !!! hm just love u!! you can slam my inbox anytime baby  (❁´◡`❁)

under the cut for length & mentions of past trauma/ptsd!

🔥 is your OC known for having temper tantrums? if not, what gets them really angry? what makes their blood BOIL? is there anyway to calm them down or are they unstoppable? what are they like when they’re angry? do they take it out on their loved ones?

i feel like this is common knowledge by now but elliot has a temper on her. call it what you want: her mama’s genes, unaddressed ptsd and unresolved anger issues, fiery blood: whatever it is, the girl’s got it, and she’s got it bad. she tries to keep her cool as much as possible but there are a few things she absolutely cannot stand. 1.) her loved ones being insulted/in danger; 2.) someone touching her without her permission; 3.) animal cruelty. they are in no particular order and are all equally offensive to her. i wouldn’t say she’s impossible to calm down, but it is difficult; elliot tends to get into a headspace that’s equally as fight or flight as if she were in real danger, so there’s a lot of sound and color and feeling to get through before you can calm her down. breathing exercises help, having her track your pulse with touch, hands on her shoulders and pressure points/etc!

she tries really hard not to take it out on her loved ones. i think, in fact, that she tries so hard she ends up bottling it more than she ought to.

💐 does your OC like flowers? what are their favourites? do they keep a garden of some sort? what flowers would they use in a flower crown?

elliot loves flowers! at least, pre-ancient names she loves flowers. but because the family takes victorian flower language and uses it to gruesomely decorate the corpses of the people they kill (including joey hudson’s), she’s not so fond of flowers anymore. growing up her mother meticulously kept rose bushes in pristine condition, so she has fond memories of that scent in particular, and i think her favorite flower (if she had to pick one) would be lilacs.

💎 does your OC collect anything? is there a reason? when did they start and is it beginning to turn into a little bit of a hoarding issue? what do they do with their collection?

notebooks! elliot has a collection of notebooks that sit mostly empty on her bookshelf in a particular order. she took to buying notebooks shortly after she returned to hope county, after she had been in therapy long enough to realize that her ptsd was beginning to affect her ability to really remember things. if given the opportunity to flip through them, someone would probably see scattered notes here and there-- “ate toast this morning”, “felt pretty alright today”, and “i am real and okay” are frequent ones that are throughout. none of the pages are full, though, and aside from those they’re nearly unused.

💕 how is your OC like with physical affection? what are their boundries? do they enjoy being touched or is that a no-go? is there any reason behind this?

elliot is simultaneously touch-starved and adverse to being touched. she craves the sensation of being touched because it’s grounding, but it somehow almost always feels like such a violation that she can’t stand it. so, her boundaries are pretty much “don’t touch me unless i make it clear you can”, at which point she clearly finds this person to be a safe, grounding place that is a-ok to touch her. obviously, post-assault, the boundaries and the consequences of violating them are upped significantly.

🔥 is your OC known for having temper tantrums? if not, what gets them really angry? what makes their blood BOIL? is there anyway to calm them down or are they unstoppable? what are they like when they’re angry? do they take it out on their loved ones?

yes! but if you call them temper tantrums she would curbstomp you. isolde is what we in the field like to refer to as “severely type a”, so, you know--rigid structures, ambitious, highly-driven and has exceptionally tall expectations for herself and thus, for others. the kind of “the only way to ensure that it gets done right is if you do it yourself”. which means the second someone fucks with her system (sleep schedule, meal plans, work flow, perhaps even breathes at a time that she did not anticipate them breathing) it slams her berserk button. her temper tantrums are less the crying and screaming type and more the “i’m going to give you 30 seconds to not get my stiletto through your eyeball you little worm” kind.

and yes, she does take it out on her loved ones. lucky she’s got so few of those, huh!

💐 does your OC like flowers? what are their favourites? do they keep a garden of some sort? what flowers would they use in a flower crown?

isolde has no particular love for flowers, though like anyone she appreciates the gesture of them being purchased for her as a lovely sentiment. she’ll always pick calla lilies over a traditional rose bouquet or something more rustic, like sunflowers--she just thinks they’re so sleek and gorgeous and go with pretty much any interior (and obviously we cannot have them clashing with the palette of her office or home). she does not keep a garden, because though she considers herself a renaissance woman, isolde does not have a green thumb.

💎 does your OC collect anything? is there a reason? when did they start and is it beginning to turn into a little bit of a hoarding issue? what do they do with their collection?

tears? maybe? soli is an exceptionally efficient Exister, meaning she operates strongly by the “waste not want not” theory and lives pretty minimally. clutter will not be tolerated. disarray is unwelcome. her home and her life are just the color, shape, and size that she wants them to be, and that’s how they’ll stay. 

i think a nice thing to think that she collects is gifts from past boyfriends/dates. you should see the girl’s jewelry box : ‘ )

💕 how is your OC like with physical affection? what are their boundries? do they enjoy being touched or is that a no-go? is there any reason behind this?

with the right person, isolde loves it. she finds confidence, and thus the confidence to put your hands on her, very sexy and alluring. there’s also an inherent desire to feel wanted by someone, and she’s a big “actions over words” person, so someone taking the action to show her just how much they love her or want to touch her is a big plus. joseph in particular is exceptionally tactile with her, which she really enjoys, but only if it doesn’t feel canned or forced.

[ghosthunthq]

Oliver is autistic, I will die on this hill

by @snavej

Noun

hill to die on (plural hills to die on)

(idiomatic) An issue to pursue with wholehearted conviction and/or single-minded focus, with little or no regard to the cost.

X~X~X

And so our story begins…

Okay, so if you’ve been around the fandom on Tumblr/Fanfiction.net, you will probably have seen me write “Oliver is autistic, I will die on this hill” on a post or story. If you have not, then, you have now. Congrats.

I came to this revelation maybe three years ago now. I had been in a discussion with some fandom friends and something in the conversation had made me wonder if Oliver was autistic.

We’ve all seen the cliche representations of autistic people in the media, especially those coded as such without explicit confirmation. For example, Sheldon Cooper from the Big Bang Theory. These characters are often there for comedic value, where we, the audience, laugh at them for their disability. The shows get away with it because they never explicitly state the character is autistic. 

I’m getting off track already.

So after the discussion mentioned before, I went away and began my research - to Google! Now, I have to admit, part of my curiosity regarding this matter is because I have been told I write Oliver well. Personally, I feel I write him a little OOC, but I like how I write him so it doesn’t bother me. I write Oliver as a version of myself. So my thought patterns at the time were that if Oliver was autistic, could I be too?

Oh yes, you thought you were just here for an educational piece about autism? Nope, you’re getting the whole damn story as to why I will die on this hill.

So I did my research and I found lists of signs of autism. I devoured internet articles and soon it was all I was interested in. I even bought a book titled ‘Aspergirls’ by Rudy Simone (who is autistic). If any of you read this piece and start wondering if you’re autistic (and you’re female, more on gender later!), I cannot recommend this book highly enough. I literally cried reading it.

The signs!

Okay so what are all these signs, let’s start a list! Autistic people can have:

Rituals that they refuse to change,

Odd or repetitive movements,

Unusual sensory reactions,

Be clumsy or awkward,

Nervous in large social groups,

Have a hard time making friends,

Speak in unusual ways or with an odd tone of voice,

Talk only about themselves/their interests,

Have narrow, often obsessive interests,

Want to be alone, or want to interact but not know how,

Avoid eye contact,

Have a hard time understanding body language,

Have trouble understanding other people’s feelings or talking about their own feelings,

Poor/abnormal posture, often sit on chairs oddly,

Trouble with left, right and other directions,

Large or unique vocabulary,

Lack of organisation,

Intense compassion/empathy,

Intense anger or no anger at all,

Connections with animals,

Difficulty understanding pop culture, styles, trends, etc.

Rigid in their ways,

Easily distressed,

Delayed speech and language,

Lack of imitation of others or imaginative play,

Indifferent to the feelings of others,

Sensitive to light and sound,

Self-stimulatory behaviours (stimming)

Echolalia (repeating or echoing words or phrases)

Unusual emotional responses,

Meltdowns,

Responds adversely to physical affections,

Does not initiate conversation,

Very poor diet,

Frequently walks on tiptoes,

Socially withdrawn/socially awkward,

Self-injurious behaviour,

Makes irrelevant remarks,

Difficulty with abstract language and concepts,

Need for sameness,

Severe upset when routines are disrupted,

Attachment to unusual objects,

Fascination with spinning objects,

Good memory for repeating lists or facts,

Unlikely to discriminate against someone on basis of race/gender/age etc.

Unlikely to give superior status to the wealthy or those high up in an organisation,

Have their own set of values,

Can hyperfocus,

Struggle to separate themselves from their work,

Lack the ability to filter information received, 

Alexithymia - the inability to describe emotions in a verbal manner,

Likes patterns, putting things in order,

Often limits diet,

Often wears the same clothes,

Black or white thinking,

Auditory processing disorder…

Okay, I’ll stop there. I could probably go on if I wanted to, because although I’ve written a lot of things there, these are all manifestations of the clinical diagnosis criteria.

X~X~X

Diagnostic Criteria for 299.00 Autism Spectrum Disorder

Persistent deficits in social communication and social interaction across multiple contexts, as manifested by the following, currently or by history (examples are illustrative, not exhaustive; see text):

Deficits in social-emotional reciprocity, ranging, for example, from abnormal social approach and failure of normal back-and-forth conversation; to reduced sharing of interests, emotions, or affect; to failure to initiate or respond to social interactions.

Deficits in nonverbal communicative behaviours used for social interaction, ranging, for example, from poorly integrated verbal and nonverbal communication; to abnormalities in eye contact and body language or deficits in understanding and use of gestures; to a total lack of facial expressions and nonverbal communication.

Deficits in developing, maintaining, and understand relationships, ranging, for example, from difficulties adjusting behaviour to suit various social contexts; to difficulties in sharing imaginative play or in making friends; to absence of interest in peers.

Specify current severity:

Severity is based on social communication impairments and restricted, repetitive patterns of behaviour.

Restricted, repetitive patterns of behaviour, interests, or activities, as manifested by at least two of the following, currently or by history (examples are illustrative, not exhaustive; see text):

Stereotyped or repetitive motor movements, use of objects, or speech (e.g., simple motor stereotypes, lining up toys or flipping objects, echolalia, idiosyncratic phrases).

Insistence on sameness, inflexible adherence to routines, or ritualized patterns of verbal or nonverbal behaviour (e.g., extreme distress at small changes, difficulties with transitions, rigid thinking patterns, greeting rituals, need to take same route or eat same food every day).

Highly restricted, fixated interests that are abnormal in intensity or focus (e.g., strong attachment to or preoccupation with unusual objects, excessively circumscribed or perseverative interests).

Hyper- or hyporeactivity to sensory input or unusual interest in sensory aspects of the environment (e.g. apparent indifference to pain/temperature, adverse response to specific sounds or textures, excessive smelling or touching of objects, visual fascination with lights or movement).

Specify current severity:

Severity is based on social communication impairments and restricted, repetitive patterns of behaviour.

Symptoms must be present in the early developmental period (but may not become fully manifest until social demands exceed limited capacities, or may be masked by learned strategies in later life).

Symptoms cause clinically significant impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of current functioning.

These disturbances are not better explained by intellectual disability (intellectual developmental disorder) or global developmental delay. Intellectual disability and autism spectrum disorder frequently co-occur; to make comorbid diagnoses of autism spectrum disorder and intellectual disability, social communication should be below that expected for general developmental level.

Note: Individuals with a well-established DSM-IV diagnosis of autistic disorder, Asperger’s disorder, or pervasive developmental disorder not otherwise specified should be given the diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder. Individuals who have marked deficits in social communication, but whose symptoms do not otherwise meet criteria for autism spectrum disorder, should be evaluated for social (pragmatic) communication disorder.

Taken from: https://www.cdc.gov/ncbddd/autism/hcp-dsm.html

X~X~X

Back to the story

So I went to my doctor after all of this reading. I was convinced. Nothing had ever made so much sense to me in my entire life as reading about autism.

I was, at this point, what people in the autism community call “self-diagnosed”. Now I was lucky, I could go on to get a “proper” diagnosis. Not everyone is as lucky. Many doctors do not believe that girls/women can be autistic. Many doctors do not believe that ethnic minorities can be autistic. Many doctors do not believe adults can be autistic. In some countries, people do not have free healthcare and so they cannot afford a diagnosis. There are many reasons why people can’t/won’t get diagnosed.

The point I’m trying to make is that if you see someone posting about being self-diagnosed, don’t be all “oh but a doctor hasn’t said it so you’re not”, because that person does not need your doubt and it does not help anyone. Their self-diagnosis helps them to navigate their life and it does not hurt anyone. Honestly, the amount of people that are “wrong” about their self-diagnosis is probably very small, and those that are probably have some other kind of neurodivergent condition such as ADHD.

Anyway, my doctor gave me a form to fill in, a questionnaire. A series of questions aimed very much at the male expression of autism. I felt horrible at the time, because I knew exactly how to answer these questions to fill the boxes required. I knew because I had read so much about autism that I knew what they wanted to hear.

I filled it in honestly. I scored highly enough anyway.

My doctor did not know who to refer me to. She had never had to refer an adult before. She asked around and found out what to do; I got put on a waiting list.

A while later, at work, I found out I could get tested privately and work would pay for it. Oh, how I love my job. I spoke to someone who had been the manager of another employee who had gone through the process. That helped.

I talked to the man who was supposed to be the disability advisor, he made me fill in the same questionnaire that my doctor did. I filled it in again.

I was on another waiting list.

The advisor had also recommended me a book, which I bought and read and hated. The language used very much implied that I would never be ‘great’, just ‘coping’. It was written by a neurotypical person. I told the advisor by email that this book was stupid and damaging. He did not reply.

Months later, the private assessment happened. I spent an entire day with a clinical psychologist and a speech and language therapist. My parents and manager came too. I answered questions, had to explain things to them, made up stories with random objects. My parents, mainly my mother, talked about my childhood.

At the end of it all, they decided I was autistic.

I was ecstatic.

The day before, a person at work said I was a hypochondriac. One of those people who read about conditions on the internet and convince myself that I have them. I still do not talk to that person.

Finally, everything made sense. Finally, I had a reason why people made fun of me for reasons I could not fathom. Finally, my weirdness had a name.

X~X~X

The Gender Issue

So there is a ‘gender issue’ with autism and it’s diagnosis. Everything is aimed at young (white) boys. It’s designed for the stereotype of the young boy who likes to collect trains. And that’s why there are five times as many autistic boys in comparison with girls.

People of colour, women and girls are very often undiagnosed or misdiagnosed.

Generalised anxiety disorder, depression, OCD, social anxiety disorder, panic disorder, various eating disorders, borderline personality disorder, ADHD…

The list goes on.

Now, that’s not to say many girls don’t have these things. Often they do. But often they have those and autism.

I very much doubt there is five times as many autistic boys. I think there are just a hell of a lot of women and girls who are undiagnosed.

Why this disparity? Well, autism presents differently in girls, or perhaps, society sees it differently.

When a young boy is quiet and withdrawn, happy to play by themselves, something is wrong. When a girl is quiet and withdrawn, she’s just shy. There’s also a lot of evidence to suggest that girls are a lot better at masking their autism.

Essentially, due to the societal pressure on young girls, they hide their autism and mimic their peers. That’s why the most common time for a woman to get diagnosed with autism is when she has children of her own and they’re getting diagnosed.

Is it genetic? There’s no strict evidence of an ‘autistic’ gene, I don’t think. But its quite common. When I was getting tested, I gave the previously mentioned book to my mother and said, “Hey, can you read this, I think I have this”. My mother read the book and told me she thought she had given it to me. She got tested two months ago.

I also look at my father and see many of the traits. But he has no interest in getting tested.

If you’re intersted, google “autism in girls” or something similar, there are plenty of resources.

The result

So I have my diagnosis, my work is fully informed. I am now protected by the Disability Act. I can’t use disabled parking spaces, but some autistic people can, if they need it.

What does this mean for me? It means that my employer has to make adjustments for me to make me comfortable for work. Changing the lighting, giving me a quiet place to work, working with me on deadlines and stuff. They know now (officially) that I have issues with auditory processing, and that they should take that into account.

I’m lucky, my employer has been good about this, and it is in their interest to. Autistic people can be an asset to any company. They are often experts in their chosen field and will work solidly on stuff they enjoy.

Lots of autistic people are not as lucky. They are one of the highest unemployed groups. Workplaces are full of unwritten rules that are hard for autistic people. This brings me on to…

Autism Acceptance Month

April is Autism Acceptance Month. You may see this as Autism Awareness Month in some places. But I don’t like that. “Awareness months” and “awareness days” are often reserved for horrible diseases like cancer, for which we want a cure.

There are a lot of resources out there from damaging institutions this month, such as Autism Speaks. They are advocating for a cure and also promote ABA (a type of ‘therapy’ that is disgusting and should not be allowed). If you take anything from all this, please do not support Autism Speaks.

There is no cure for Autism. It is a developmental disorder. It’s not a disease.

If you wanna do something for Autism Acceptance Month, there are some resources here: https://www.autism.org.uk/get-involved/world-autism-awareness-week.aspx

But what about the vaccines?

Of course, I cannot talk about autism without mentioning the vaccines!

In the 90s, about 1 in 150 children were diagnosed with autism, by the early 2000’s, this went up to 1 in 68. One of the big things that had changed in this time was the number of vaccines children had. 

There have been many studies regarding autism and vaccines. And there was one that said there was a link between autism and vaccines. In this study, there were 12 subjects.

Now I do statistics for a day job. So I can tell you categorically, that 12 subjects for a study is not enough for decisive proof. The person who did this study was struck off and rightly so.

But the media got hold of this idea.

And so the anti-vaxxers rose up, refusing to vaccinate their children from deadly diseases because obviously, being autistic was worse than being dead.

In summary, vaccinate your children.

Side note, I, as an autistic person, am allowed to make jokes about vaccines. For example, I received some vaccinations before travelling and joked with the nurse that I was ‘topping up my autism’. This is funny because we both knew it was wrong.

‘Autistic person’ vs ‘person with autism’

This one is a tricky one. I’ve seen arguments both ways.

‘Person with autism’ puts the person first, but also makes the autism sound like an accessory. 

‘Autistic person’ puts the disability first, but you can’t separate the person from the autism, it’s intrinsic to who they are.

Basically, this is up to the person. If they prefer one way or the other, use it. It’s like pronouns, you use what the person you’re talking about asks you to use.

Personally, I’m not too fussy, but I lean towards ‘autistic person’. 

Asperger’s vs Autism

Asperger’s was merged into the general Autism diagnosis criteria a while back. Asperger’s is what is sometimes called ‘high functioning autism’. The autism community do not like the term ‘high functioning’ because it denies aid, in the same way that ‘low functioning’ denies agency. The criteria for ‘low functioning’ is having an IQ under 70. So it’s quite broad.

Also people who have been classified as ‘high functioning’ don’t necessarily function well in everyday life without help.

Also, Hans Asperger’s was a bit of a knobhead, so a lot of people don’t like using his name.

Headcanons

A headcanon is a fan’s personal, idiosyncratic interpretation of canon, such as habits of a character, the backstory of a character, or the nature of relationships between characters. The term comes from the fact that it is the canon that exists in a fan’s head.

So when I say ‘Oliver is autistic’, this is my personal headcanon. Do I want it to become fanon? Yes, of course, I do. In the same way, I love that Yasuhara x Gene has become popular (for which I take full responsibility).

But if you disagree with it, that’s fine. You’re allowed to do that. I will not think any less of you for it. Because at the end of the day, the author has not come out and said ‘Oliver is autistic’.

Personally, as an autistic writer, who has always written some of her characters as autistic, whether she knew it or not, I suspect the author of Ghost Hunt might be an undiagnosed autistic person. Because Oliver is not the only person I recognise traits in… But that’s for another day.

If you only take one thing away from reading all of this, then let it be this:

If you’ve met one autistic person, that’s it. You have met ONE autistic person.

We’re all different, just like everyone else.

And now for what you’ve all been waiting for…

Continued in Part TWO 

[skvaderarts]

Chapter Thirteen: Ensnared

You can check out the Masterlist Here for more links to places to read!

Chapter Thirteen: Ensnared 

Note: My eternal gratitude to SkylarMorgan1899, Random Reader Nothing Special, HunterJamie, Aureux, RubixaSeraph, and newcomer Psyco_Karma for their kind and helpful comments. Thanks for the ideas and Inspiration! I’m glad that the void scene at the beginning of the chapter was well received, and that you seemed to be looking forward to chapter thirteen! I had a great time writing this one wide awake at 6:10 am when I should have been sleeping so that I could spend another day doing nothing productive and slowly questioning my life in isolation. This is much better. Enjoy the chapter!

-~-

It didn’t take a keen intellect or inherent superpowers to realize that she was being followed.

There was just something wrong in the air, the darkened sky radiating a supernatural quality that she couldn’t help but notice and be wary of. Shortly before calling Vergil’s brother’s office, she had called to check in with Nero. Thankfully, nothing sinister had befallen them. The storm had been merciful to the island, but was still raging nonetheless. It would have been leagues easier to just ask Vergil to use his incredible Devil Arm to grant her safe passage to the island, but when she had called the office, he had not answered. She could only assume that he was not home or that he had fallen asleep away from the phone, as when she had called him in the past (what few times that she had needed to) he had always answered or called her back immediately, regardless of the fact that he had some sort of prevalent dislike of speaking on the phone. Something about it being too impersonal. Perhaps they didn’t have a caller ID function built into the mainline there? Regardless, she needed to go and check in on them. While the spell had gone better than planned, alchemy could be volatile, and she wanted to make sure that the child she had assisted had come through from the far beyond unscathed. Or as close to it as possible. No one was ever completely fine.

As the middle-aged woman made her way towards the pier, she had noticed that there were two individuals following her. While they could also be looking for passage by boat to some other part of the region or perhaps even work at the docks, she knew that that wasn’t the case. Magnolia had always possessed a sort of sixth sense for things like this, and she made a point of not giving up the fact that she knew they were there to them. It was still the middle of the day, storm or no storm. She was working off of the assumption that they would not be stupid enough to accost her in a normally highly traffick area of town. But that didn’t mean that she was unintelligent enough to completely throw caution to the wind and just march up to the docks without assuring her safety. She hadn’t lived this long by being stupid, even with Vergil in the underworld where he couldn’t get her into anymore of his chaotic schemes.

Magnolia shook her head as she walked, giggling to herself. She was only three or so years younger than him, but this wasn’t the first time he had come to her or her family for their expertise or assistance. As much as she knew it loathed him to admit it, when it came to matters of alchemy, Vergil was not incapable, but he had dabbled more in curses and wards by way of necessity than anything else. He had always been a diligent student of the craft, possessing something of a natural gift with dead languages, but she had feared his entire life that he might be indulging his desire for knowledge with the wrong sort of literature. She was a student of an entirely different field of study, even where most of her family was concerned, but that hadn’t changed her stance on the darker pieces of literature in her family’s library. Her lineage’s rueful relationship with curses had been half of the reason that he had sought her out in the first place, but that had been half a lifetime ago. She needed to focus on the here and now. There would be time to reminisce and catch up with him later on. Still, she had noticed something different about him that she couldn’t quite place. Perhaps he had learned from his mistakes and grown wiser with age? Not likely. At the end of the day, he was still Vergil. It would take something profound to trigger that sort of change in him, as it had taken that to morph him into the person she had known for two-thirds of her whole life in the first place.

Just moments later, she stepped around the corner and slowed her gait to a near stop. These were the last of the back streets. And in the middle of them were two hooded men wearing long black street coats. But they were not the same two that she had sensed tailing her before. No, they were probably with them, but those two were still following her. As if to prove this, they stepped around the corner she had just rounded a moment later, slowing to a stop behind her about the same distance she was from the two individuals in front of her. Magnolia placed her hands in her pockets casually, tilting her head to the side as her medium length brown and grey hair drifted in the strong breeze.

“Well, what’s this then? Planning to mug a lady in the street? Or is there a toll I’m not aware of?” She spoke playfully, aware that this tactic had prevented unneeded violence and bloodshed in the past. People were free to mistake her for being dim at their own peril.

One of the beings standing before her stepped forward, dropping his hood in a movement that she assumed he thought was menacing to her. He stopped just shy of eight feet from her, not quite close enough for them to touch, but enough to unnerve the average lost soul on the street. She was not fazed in the slightest, however. Although the man before her was a full head taller than her, they were about the same size. And if he posed a threat, he could never close the distance between them before she could make a move anyway. Magnolia never went into a fight assuming she was in full control of the situation, but she felt secure in this situation. Nothing about them appeared to be life-threateningly dangerous quite yet. She was a grown woman. She could handle this.

“You’re going to Fortuna, I presume?” The man asked it as though it were a question, but he seemed to already know her answer. Magnolia shrugged, meeting his gaze.

“Perhaps I am, or perhaps I’m just out enjoying the weather. I don’t see what business of yours that would be.” Her tone was stern, hinting at her lack of concern. Perhaps showing how little they intimidated her would make her point ring true to them.

The man leered, unamused by her commentary. “Everything is our business once you set foot on this street. So I’ll ask again. Are you headed to Fortuna?”

“I’m afraid I have to insist that my goings-on are absolutely nothing you should be concerning yourself with,” She used her hands to toss her hair back behind her shoulders, fixing the collar of her long coat in the process. The mist in the air was starting to dampen her normally frizzy hair and soak her soft knee-high boots and knit legging, adding to the chill that already permeated the air between them. “I’ll be going now, dears. Do take care of yourselves.”

With that, she stepped wide to her right, preparing to give the man plenty of room as she proceeded to her destination. Word had reached her through her contemporaries that a freight ship had just recently started taking shipments to Fortuna again. It would be the first since the storm had started yesterday, most docking due to the inclimate weather. But the slightly volatile water was nothing to a ship of that size, especially considering the fact that it didn’t possess sails that could be adversely affected by the winds.

Incensed by her lack of cooperation, the younger man in the black coat stepped forward as if to seize her to prevent her from leaving. She jumped back, the four men forming an arching around her in an attempt to corner her against a nearby building. They stepped closer than they had before, clearly expecting her to yield and surrender, proving them the answer to the question that the man she assumed was their leader had just asked. Instead, he stood her ground, unwilling to be pushed around and intimidated.

“I’m not going to ask you again.” The formerly hooded man said smugly,” Were not here to play around. And the man we represent doesn’t take no for an answer.”

Magnolia removed her left hand from her pocket, allowing it to rest at her side. Her right hand remained in its appropriate pocket. 

“Well, that’s quite unfortunate. Truly a shame,” her focus intensified as she assessed the men before her. Disarming any potential weapons they possessed was her first priority. It was a good thing there were no cameras on this part of the block.” I won’t ask you to leave me be a third time.”

Without speaking, the leader gestured towards her, and the other three men that accompanied him rushed forward, descending upon her like a pack of wolves. Magnolia exhaled and removed her right hand from her pocket. She placed her right hand behind her back and raised her left, speaking a single inaudible word under her breath. A moment later a blast of invisible energy shot forward, slamming into them with enough force to knock them off of their feet. One of the men slammed into a nearby building, more than likely knocking himself out cold. The other two rolled to a stop against a set of trash cans, one bashing his back on the edge of the alley. Their leader slid back several feet before regaining his balance, standing up to face her. He cursed under his breath before rolling his shoulders, cracking his neck and fingers. After doing so, he flared his coat and spoke under his breath, placing his hand on the ground.

 As she was trying to discern what he had just said, the ground cracked open and several sets of stone coated legs crawled out of the opening. She jumped back, landing on her feet as she prepared to fight back against the giant stone beast that now stood before her. The large stone arachnid screeched at her, it’s huge glowing green center eye-locking onto her. It planted it’s front legs firmly into the tar coated street, opening it’s oversized mouth in preparation to attack. Magnolia’s eyes went wide. She couldn’t place the last time she had seen a Kyklops, and this kid had just summoned one? What the… 

This didn’t bode well.

Despite the fact that the young man had just brought it into this realm, he didn’t seem to have a great deal of control over the creature. He stood behind it, obviously struggling in his fight for control. She could only guess that this was the first time he had attempted this, and his lack of focus and experience showed. That was the issue with untethered summons. They could just as easily turn on their masters and kill them as they could destroy their summoner’s opponents. Luckily for him, the demon seemed to be more focused on her for the moment than it did him. It sucked in a breath before blasting out a large chunk of stone, several smaller fragments following it. She put up both hands, spreading them out in front of her as she used an altered version of her last spell to force the rocks back where they had just come from. The largest one cracked upon impact with her barrier, blasting backward in a shower of jagged stone that caused the demon to shriek in pain. It figured that it would take something equally hard to pierce its rough, stone coated exterior. 

Several of the larger pieces made impact with the distracted summoner as she lowered her right hand and used it to force several pieces of the stray stone towards the other two men who were in the process of clambering to their feet. They all toppled over, crying out in discomfort. The demon charged at her, bashing right into her barrier as she pushed forward and slammed into it, meeting it head-on. The demon cracked further as the pieces of sharp stone buried themselves deeper into it than they had before, effectively immobilizing it. In a final attempt at taking its attacker with it, it buried it’s damaged front legs into the ground and charged up a second attack. Magnolia braced herself as a second equally sized rock made contact with her barrier spell, this time at less than half the distance that it had been at before. 

She tumbled backward, rolling to a stop against a light pole as her shield dropped and the demon howled in pain, dropping dead and disintegrating into a pile of useless rock. She coughed, the air returning to her lungs as she climbed to her feet. The summoner was now unconscious, bleeding badly as his cronies lifted him to his feet while carrying their other comatose friend. One of them shouted curses at her, guaranteeing that she would be sorry for this when they returned. She stepped forward, ready to finish what she had started. The middle-aged woman noted how they practically jumped away from her in fright, startled and clearly unwilling to tango with the person who had just destroyed their first -and possible only- line of defense with deflection magic alone. Magnolia was willing to wager that they had not banked on her possessing a few tricks of her own. They hurried off as she yelled after them, unwilling to take their bullshit.

“I would advise against coming back here and starting anything with me again,” She said as they tucked tail and ran as fast as they could manage considering their condition and the state of half of their group,” You wouldn’t like to see what I can do when I’m not out of practice!”

As they hurried out of her line of sight, she turned and ran off towards the docks, acutely aware that she couldn’t afford to miss the opportunity to get on board the vessel now. This may be the cult she had heard about on the news. She hadn’t paid them any mind until now, but if they possessed even a single summoner, regardless of how inept, then they posed a potential threat to her and her associates. She would attempt another call to Vergil when she was on board the ship, but she urgently needed to reach Nero and V in order to warn them of the possibility of danger. Magnolia could only hope that none of them had reached the island already.

This was what she got for being nice to Vergil Sparda.

-~-

“I’m quite intrigued,” V said as they walked along the icy ledge that encompassed the upper path around Lamina Peak,” I failed to notice before that you possessed wings.”

Nero laughed slightly at the statement, trying not to acknowledge the fact that it was literally cold enough up here to freeze them both solid. Thankfully, he had thought to lend him one of the trench coats that he never used anymore. A purple one with a black shoulder scarf. It fit V surprisingly well, something that he attributed to the fact that he had received it as a teenager. Although V was taller than him (which made the coat about four inches shorter at the bottom than it had been when he’d worn it last), it was still long enough to almost reach his knees. Nero was not as bone-thin as his guest, but he had possessed a different physical structure at the time he’d worn it. Not by much, but it was enough. And regardless, it was strange to see V in so many layers of clothing.

Getting V up the mineshaft had been quite an ordeal. He’d not thought to take the time to explain to him that he wouldn’t drop him when he’d informed V that the only way out was up. Practically tossing him up to the top using his new wings had been the only way to facilitate V’s entry. Nero liked to think there was another way in and no one had found it in a long time, but the odds were against him. The mining town had been rebuilt in the time since his original visit, but the mineshaft had barely been touched and mostly sealed off since. Most of Fortuna’s residents avoided the castle before everything had happened, regarding it as a sacred place. Now, they viewed it as a permanent mark on the land, the laboratory, and its experiments, something they wanted to pretend had never happened. No one wanted to think about the number of souls that had lost fueling Agnus and the Order of the Sword’s ambitions. Anything that made it easier to go there had been completely swept under the rug. But regardless, the two of them were now here, heading to the one place Nero was happy to never set foot in again for the rest of his life. He had had enough of the place and its endless traps during prior visits. Hopefully, this would be the last time he’d have to visit this cursed place.

“I guess neither of us notices things like that,” Nero said as they carefully rounded the corner, the near-blizzard conditions that seemed to plague this place not relenting in their passive-aggressive attempts to kill them both,” I never noticed you had white hair.”

V smirked knowingly. He had made a point of that. While the time had come on a few occasions to explain himself during their ordeal in Redgrave City, he had counted the concealment of his natural hair as an added bonus to possessing Nightmare. While he had come to terms with his unusual genetic quirk a long time ago, having a short time in his life where he mostly blended in with everyone else had given him much needed levity and clarity. He didn’t really miss it now, but it had been nice at the time.

As the castle came into full view, V stumbled slightly, catching himself before he could pitch forward and fall face-first into the snow. Nero reached to grab him, fearful that he might tumble off the edge of the mountain to his death. Upon realizing that he had regained his balance, he lowered his hand. But he kept the notion that he might need his assistance in the back of his mind. That had to be the dozenth time that he had almost fallen during their trek through the snow. It seemed that his balance issues were exacerbated by the unsteady ground. Nero was starting to see why V walked with a cane, despite the fact that he wasn’t entirely sure what was wrong with him. 

“You want me to just carry you, or are you good,” Nero asked lightheartedly,” Wouldn’t want you to fall after all that shit I said to Vergil about you being safer here.”

V scoffed at the statement, slightly amused. Considering their previous interactions, V wasn’t entirely sure his father cared about what condition he was in. But, considering their relation to one another, some part of him wanted to believe that. As they stopped at the end of what seemed to be the remains of a balcony or tower of some sort, he stared across the vast ice field at the monstrous structure that loomed over them. Even at this distance, Fortuna Castle was an intimidating structure. It made him wonder how old this place truly was. What a stupendous work of art.

“If I needed you to carry me, you would know,” V said quietly as he admired the building, slightly entranced by its magnitude. He couldn’t have imagined that it was this big when Nero had first described it to him,” You said this castle supposedly belonged to the Dark Knight Sparda, correct? It’s rather impressive, wouldn’t you say?”

Nero nodded, joining him at what remained of the rail. The blizzard was behind them now, the chilly air quiet. Everything was rather serene, especially considering the circumstances that had led them here. He hoped the trip was worthwhile and that whatever books V was looking for were written in a language he could actually read. Nero himself had scanned through a few pages during his first visit and couldn’t make out much of it. It consisted of mostly strange symbols and what he assumed to be Latin. The writing had been foreign to him, even after having such an old faith shoved down his throat his entire life. It wouldn’t surprise him if he could read some of that, considering the type of shit he quoted on a regular basis, but still.

“It’s pretty big, yea,” Nero said plainly. Perhaps his experiences here had diluted the magic for him,” Last time I was up here, a tower almost fell on me. Let’s get out of here.”

V looked down below them. What remained of the staircase was broken, cracked, and iced over, a literal nightmare for him considering his lack of a cane. At that moment, he longed for the familiarity of his old improvised weapon. It had proved to be quite versatile. It hadn’t occurred to him until now that he was walking into a potentially dangerous situation totally unarmed. Nero started down the steps, looking back at him as if he were going to ask why he wasn’t following him but then thinking better of it. He was pretty sure he knew why. “I’m not gonna make fun of you if you change your mind”

Upon hearing his statement, V turned to look at him. He had a thoughtful look on his face, his mind combing over the probability of dying here. While he trusted Nero implicitly, putting his life entirely in his hands was a huge step for him. He’d never really had anyone he could actually trust in the first place. He was hoping that he’d live long enough to think back on this moment and dismiss it as his overactive mind trying to push him away from a perfectly logical space. He really was.

After a moment, he followed him down the stairs, immediately aware of how nither of them should be on them. Part of him felt immense guilt about the fact that he was the sole reason Nero was here right now, quite clearly in danger on his behalf. They made their way down them carefully, Nero extending his arm for him to grip when he had to step across particularly precarious spots. When they reached the very last large gap in the stairs, Nero jumped across first, gesturing for V to follow him. The older of the two glanced over the side. There was about a thirty-foot drop to the ground below them, if they actually cleared the rubble. V sighed. This was uncomfortably risky. While they might not die should they fall, he was relatively sure that they could be seriously hurt. The idea of breaking a leg and laying in the snow until they both froze to death was very low on his list of ways he’d like to die.

“Just jump across, V. I’ll catch you,” Nero assured him from the other side of the gap,” I’d fall over this rail before I dropped you. You’re fine. Don’t worry about it.” 

But somehow, that was the exact opposite of what V wanted to hear. He didn’t doubt that, but he still didn’t want to see any harm come to Nero on his behalf. But his rational mind reminded him that Nero was nowhere near as fragile as he was. If he had survived an entire tower nearly falling on him on a previous trip, he could handle this.

“Oh, I have no doubts about that. I know you wouldn’t,” He said idly but sincerely as he used his eyes to guestimate the distance between himself and the other side,” It’s just that the last time I traversed an unstable structure, it collapsed and I nearly drowned in a river.”

Nero mentally kicked himself. Why did that sound so familiar? He was so sure he hadn’t been there when that had occurred but, somehow, he felt like he’d seen it happen. Perhaps from a distance? How weird.

A moment later, V finally worked up the nerve to attempt to join him. He stepped back before carefully jumping across. In an act that took them both by surprise, he overshot the space, practically catapulting himself into him. They both tumbled backward, knocking against the frozen railing with a hard thump. Nero caught V with his arm, stopping him from somersaulting over him and going head first over the railing. Despite the uncomfortable closeness and the fact that they were thoroughly tangled in on another while laying on a frozen staircase, Nero stifled a laugh. This was a mess. They were a mess. How the fuck had this even happened?

“See this, this is what I was trying to avoid. We-”

V attempted to sit up at the same time that Nero did, the two of them still tangled in one another. His sentence was cut off, however. Suddenly, there was an audible bumble as the ground beneath them vibrated. They exchanged a startled glance before the staircase crumbled and they both went careening towards the ground. As the staircase crumpled in on itself, Nero managed to grab a hold of V with his free hand, using his translucent blue wings to slow their fall by forcing them outward and up with a rapid twist, safely away from the collapsing structure. V yelped in surprise as they came to a comparatively gently landing, his knees buckling as his feet made contact with the ground. Nero slid over him, landing just a few feet in front of him.

After a moment, Nero exhaled and turned to find V steadying himself as he tried to climb to his feet. The younger of the two extended his arm to him, fully willing to lend him a helping hand. V took it this time, aware that he couldn’t quite regain his equilibrium. They stood for a moment in the center of several vertically and horizontally aligned stone pillars that were positioned on either side of the bridge that they needed to cross in order to enter the building. V could only hope that it was warmer inside.

They nodded to one another in confirmation before turning to make their way towards the massive front doors that led into the building. They were here for a purpose. Get in, find what they were looking for, and then leave. Pretty straight forward. What could possibly go wrong?

Note: Thanks for reading this chapter! It was really fun to get to work on! See you guys on Friday the 12th of June for the next installment! And thanks again for your ongoing support! I’d love to hear what you think about Magnolia’s abilities and the chapter as a whole. See you soon!

[starsailorstories]

So! Given, uh, everything, any chance you could talk about how various Astraea cultures deal with sicknesses and quarantine? Especially since some (especially Bell Town) are extremely or entirely genetically identical, and so more at risk?

Also, how would the cast members react to self isolation and social distancing?

FIRST OFF, sorry this took 10 years to answer, I was super busy and there’s kind of A Lot Of Spec Bio to discuss here

Also, this question made me feel very Seen lol…why yes i DO use worldbuilding as a coping mechanism for the stress of watching the wet tissue paper my country calls a social safety net dissolve

Most sickness that astraeas deal with day to day isn’t actually contagious*, but more a result of individual reaction to the environment (in terms of public health response, think seasonal allergies, although physiologically speaking it’s nothing like that). Communicable, infectious disease tends to be a less frequent problem but purely for that reason is more feared, especially as the most common source for novel diseases is interplanetary shipping (like, astraeas on one planet who have immunity to something unknowingly ship contaminated goods to another planet where people don’t). All that is nowhere near as devastating as it could be in a human context–for one thing astraeas’ bodies are hella dry compared to ours, so if a microbe isn’t airborne it’s almost a non-issue (on the other hand, infection is almost a guarantee if you have an open wound)–but most planets, stations and orbiters have a list of OTHER planets, stations and orbiters categorized by how long it’s been since first contact and how long shipments need to be in quarantine based on that, and that kind of thing runs the same gamut from “rigorously evidence-based” to “completely political and petty” that it does on earth.

Speaking of which, the issue of genetic similarity as a disease risk is as politicized as you’d expect in a society where people said “oh, with our genetic technology we can just design the working class to be however we want.” The Hyperians, being, you know, A Rigidly Hierarchal Interstellar Empire In A Space Opera as they are, tend to present the genetic homogeneity as sort of a good thing, what makes Us Us and Them Them, and the royal family themselves subscribe to the very historically royal (and also very eugenicist) idea that genetic “purity”–which for astraeas mostly just means having children in a very chemically controlled environment–helps keep em’ royal or something. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t it just makes hemophilia, and the more conservative Basileans minimize the environmental variance that keeps them from wiping each other out like some kind of aggressively graceful banana monocrop, the easier it is for epidemics to escalate in general because whole colonies become vectors together.

You won’t read about it in your galactic history book til after the revolution, but the dangers of genetic homogeneity were actually observed by lux units, who noticed that “variant” and “off-order” clones were a bit more likely to survive outbreaks of disease. Supervisors in clone factories have tried HARD to excise the superstition that variant units who remain un-decommissioned into adulthood are good luck to have on your cabin crew or manufacturing-plant shift, but it’s never completely gone away, and once Bell Town goes topside their medics and scientists immediately get to work testing, peer reviewing and proving the mechanics of diversity as a factor of public health because it’s a helpful argument for legitimizing their seizure of the means of their own reproduction and fighting the prejudice against “defective” lux that don’t fit the mold.

To really get into your question, Bell Town at least has the advantage of being small and having a busybody mom friend for a de facto head medic, so I don’t think they’ve ever had a quarantine situation get much bigger than four or five people just because Bolt is very up on how everyone’s doing and very very persuasive–the medics know that that’s just a matter of luck though, and I’m sure a factor in the push to go topside is the potential for tragedy involved in having a settlement of mostly/nearly genetically identical people in somewhat adverse and scarce conditions. That’s not to say there’s no plan–the shortages in Bell Town tend to be of immediately consumable raw materials, like air and fuel and very basic multi-use medicines, whereas raw materials for manufacturing specialized equipment are a lot easier to get because organized factories in DT’s network can have them smuggled out. And a majority of the town’s population, at least by vol. 2, are former manufacturing-plant labor with working radio receivers in their heads, so it’s fairly feasible to expect even a small portion of them, with an emergency push, to manufacture A Lot of vaccines, or intensive care equipment, or whatever was needed practically overnight with the direct guidance of the medics to ensure as much safety in the process as possible (they do just that with medical and defense supplies in vol. 2 for various spoilery things).

Up top, the aula’s responses to any and all large-scale social crises tend to be erratic but sweeping. There are some advantages–in terms of expertise, there are certainly things that well-paid doctors with fully equipped research hospitals can accomplish that a dedicated crack team of self-educated medics can’t, including proactive study of new strains of disease. There’s also feudal insanity–technically individual hospitals/institutions aren’t supposed to issue info without the aula’s permission, though legally local nobles can give it on the Hyperians’ behalf if they’re willing to risk Drama. The internal weirdness of the court both logistical and interpersonal (which I need to make a post about) can sometimes mean, in any emergency, that different parts of the empire receive conflicting information, or an edict followed after a day’s delay in the satellite network by a retraction. Public trust (among citizens of relative status at least) that the Hyperians know what they’re doing tends to decline exponentially as you move out from the inner Rings for this exact reason.

Derafior City on Caesura B dealt with a wave of multiple epidemics a couple hundred turns before the official rise of the empire that still affect how the city is laid out–leaders at the time issued quarantine orders in cooperation with individual colony matriarchs, and as those orders became enforced in physical “zones” neighborhood identities, reputations, and rivalries became increasingly defined (Crater culture being what it is, quarantine boundaries were often pretty literal battle lines as the situation became desperate). A lot of historians trace the factionalism of the Crater to this era, although outside imperialism was also a major instigator of both factional conflicts and disease exposure. Keep in mind too that while outsiders like to portray Derafior as violently fractured and there’s a grain of truth to that, there are just as many deep loyalties between neighborhood/colony factions as there are rivalries and as we see in vol. 3, Caesurans are certainly not allergic to closing ranks when shit really hits the fan. 

I don’t have specific canon examples from other ante-dome cultures but another thing of possible interest that I’d like to talk about is that in places touched by Basilean culture, a lot of what we consider “social distancing” is just normal because cleanliness is highly ritualized and valued. Although platonic adult friendships tend to be very cuddly by American and British standards, at the same time, hand touches between strangers outside specific social rituals are seen as quite inappropriate, so things are more thoroughly designed to prevent them–for example, most trading of goods is done purely on paper at the point of sale and nothing actually passes from hand to hand, you go get it out of the crate or pick it out of the field yourself (which is also a practicality of the relative non-ubiquity of flexible currency–and actually, one of the complaints about the use of currency among more traditional astraeas is that it spreads germs). Basically everyone who can afford it wears gloves in public, which are changed and washed every time a person re-enters her home (disposable gloves are mostly limited to medical and laboratory settings, although it’s not unheard of to use them in a pinch if you don’t have a place to launder gloves at home. Side note, if you’re translating directly Altamaian actually refers to manual labor that makes it impractical to wear gloves as “barehanded” labor and the summary conceptualization of such as unhygienic represents a MAJOR vein of classism among Basilean citizens). The reason for the glove thing is that for a species with an exoskeleton regular hand washing can be kind of involved (You know how sometimes it takes a lot of scrubbing to get the dirt out from under your fingernails? Now imagine you have fingernails all over your hands). 

Oh and to answer your second question: out of the main cast the one you’d think would suffer most with self-isolation is Bolt, but being a healthcare worker she’d still see people. Rugsy would complain the loudest but also paradoxically be secretly kind of relieved to not have to worry about People for a while. DT experiences virtually no change from her normal lifestyle lmao

*There’s two kinds of disease that can affect astraeas–what they call “miasmic”, and infectious. Miasmic disease (which as you might guess I named after the precursor to modern germ theory–it’s kind of true in this instance!) is basically when an individual’s body and light chemistry can’t maintain its normal balance in certain atmosphere conditions. A big reason for the kickoff of the artificial atmosphere industry after the settling of Altamai is that the cloud cover tends to trap a lot of carbon dioxide, and for i.e. Basillans and Sitherians (who have come to be based on G-type stars, like the sun, and K-type stars, slightly smaller and cooler than the sun) there’s just not enough hydrogen atoms in there to run their bodies optimally. This mostly affects very young children, the elderly, and those whose cores were formed in suboptimal conditions (comparable to a human who has a chronic health condition because of a birth defect) and if it can’t be remedied by a move to more hydrogen/helium rich air, it’s treated by sucking the pure hydrogen out of a water electrolysis device through a hose on the daily, which side note, is also a reliable hangover remedy for them.

[danielxrk]

                              EMPTY ENIGMA ; THE PLAYLIST ( youtube ) ( spotify )

1. ╬═  uncontainable - set it off 2. ╬═  rockstar - daddy rock (cover) 3. ╬═  bad kids - lady gaga 4. ╬═  sophomore slump or comeback of the year - fall out boy 5. ╬═  float on - modest mouse 6. ╬═  do it now remember it later - sleeping with sirens 7. ╬═  restless - too close to touch 8. ╬═  last ones left - blessthefall 9. ╬═  have faith in me - a day to remember 10. ╬═  player haters’ ball - palisades 11. ╬═  watch out - memphis may fire 12. ╬═  against the waves - blessthefall 13. ╬═  petty trappin - slaves 14. ╬═  broken - lovelytheband 15. ╬═  champion - fall out boy 16. ╬═  down for the ride - slaves 17. ╬═  this is the house that doubt built - a day to remember 18. ╬═  dream on - blessthefall (cover) 19. ╬═  immortal - palisades

1. uncontainable  ⊰ we’re taking our crown, we’re taking it now ⊱

coming out the gate, we’re swinging. empty enigma together is an unstoppable force, or at least they feel like they are-- destined for amazing things and soaring to great heights. especially on stage, they don’t back down for anything, but it applies to their true selves, too. for a bonus, daniel and woojin box, so the metaphors 👍

2. rockstar  ⊰ dude your girlfriend is a groupie she just tryna get in, saying “i’m with the band” ⊱

squall, alpha, brand, cameo and reign are wild; there has to be at least one song dedicated to it. don’t give them too much credit and think this isn’t relevant beyond the title.

3. bad kids  ⊰ i’m not that cool and you hate me, i’m a bad kid that’s the way they made me  ⊱

everyone came to empty enigma for different reasons, but all of them have at least a little rebellious bone in their body to be part of a metalcore band. there’s some defying authority, a lot of defying expectations, and a little disappointing people in their lives that don’t think the band is an honorable pursuit, at the very least. empty engima doesn’t care. all of that aside, they came together to support each other under all circumstances. you’re still good to me if you’re a bad kid, baby. 

4. sophomore slump or comeback of the year  ⊰ i’ll keep singing this lie if you keep believing it  ⊱

empty enigma is a mystery, but also a lie, based upon stage personas all of the members hide behind, giving them the power to be whoever they want to be-- different than they really are. there’s more to the song than that, though: a dedication to empty enigma’s fans, and their devotion to each other, getting through hard times, and enjoying every moment. it’s just a matter of time until we’re all found out, and they were, but at least it was on their own terms.

5. float on  ⊰ don't worry even if things end up a bit too heavy, we'll all float on  ⊱

together, they get through everything, taking everything one day at a time, and it’s all okay as long as there’s empty enigma. [sobs into my hands]

6. do it now remember it later  ⊰ remember when they said what we want can never be done? ⊱

empty enigma has had a lot of doubters, whether it’s random people or those close to the members, but in the end, they do what they want to, and the band empowers them to say so. come on say what you think, it won't mean a thing, in the end we're gonna be just fine.

7. restless  ⊰ do whatever makes us lose control, just for a night  ⊱

they all have their own troubles, but the band is an escape from that, even if it’s just for a show every weekend.

8. last ones left  ⊰ if we’re going down, we all go down together, and that’s the way it is ⊱

somehow this song ended up on this playlist when i made it the first week of the mgas, but it has new meaning following the developments of the mgas. kenta and woojin receiving contracts, everyone wanting to hang onto the band, even to the point of wishing they wouldn’t accept their contracts. the chorus reflects their original feelings, but now it’s clear they won’t stay like this forever, but they’ll still supporting each other regardless. 

9. have faith in me  ⊰ you’ll always find me right there, again ⊱

a song about how they’ll always be there for each other no matter what, even when all else fails basically, haha!

10. player haters’ ball  ⊰ wolves don’t lose sleep on the thoughts of sheep ⊱

here we have a lovely hardcore screamo song that marks the beginning of the part of this playlist dedicated to their haters, which was relevant enough before due to people hating on metalcore in general and people in their lives trying to tell them what to do. after the mgas, the relevancy increased by 200%, since daniel and kenta especially endured some hate comments and lowkey care a lot about what people think of them; empty enigma gives them strength and makes them care a whole lot less about anonymous people tearing them down. the only truth is that you’re still unknown, and empty enigma isn’t anymore.

11. watch out  ⊰ we came to change the game so get out the way ⊱

this is another self-hype song and a lil bit to haters too, and their intention to be successful and their belief that they already are just doing what they’re doing. this is another one that applies more mgas considered, because this is relevant to when they first set foot on the show. (fun fact: this was a contender for between fear and faith’s title track.)

12. against the waves  ⊰ but if it’s all the same, they’ll find the worst in you ⊱

pt 3 of songs to their haters, and a vow to stay strong in the face of them and any adversity, and the chorus applies to them wanting the band to be a source of support for people going through the same. i wonder why that “nothing can last forever” line is there haha how is that relevant haha

13. petty trappin ⊰ you say i’m everything you despise, everything you don’t like ⊱

this is the final and most relevant song dedicated to haters, all a highly applicable message to anyone that talked shit during the mgas, supercharged with some unshakable empty enigma confidence. every person that hates them is a person that can’t stop paying attention to them, after all. also a song in my potential ee follow up album playlist because they truly could’ve written this song.

14. broken ⊰ i like that you’re lonely, lonely like me, i could be lonely with you ⊱

all of the members were a little broken, and maybe they still are, but at least they’re broken (and maybe a little lonely) together where they didn’t quite fit in anywhere else. daniel also met most of them late night at a party, so that’s a bonus. (extra bonus: this is the first song i ever associated with ee; i think it was back in october 2018 or something and that think i could love you but i’m not sure line always made me think of nielwoon, perhaps i’m a psychic.)

15. champion ⊰ i’m a champion of the people who don’t believe in champions ⊱

one of the last songs added to the playlist, this is dedicated to their dreams and touches back on that constant theme of being some kind of outcast and underdog. it also highly applies to the mgas (if i can live through this, i can do anything) but this playlist was still finished by episode two of the show, so that i’m calling you from the future to let you know we made a mistake line was foreshadowing?? ee mgas was a mistake. maybe

16. down for the ride ⊰ taking over, feeling at home with you ⊱

empty enigma is home, as a band or just the friends that make it up. they leaned a lot from each other, and the band was a crazy ride-- one they’re still on together and might be too attached to. (moving forward, learn to let go.)

17. this is the house that doubt built  ⊰ we’ll sing like everyone when they’re alone ⊱

a mix of several moods on the playlist: empty enigma as an escape, strength and something that makes them feel fearless, and teamwork on top of that. it’s also a bit of a reference to their secret identities, why they used them, and what they’ve learned from them. (when you find yourself please let me know.)

18. dream on  ⊰ sing with me, just for today; maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away ⊱

the original intent of this song in the playlist was because this was probably a cover on the band’s early setlists, and you know, the whole concept applies to people going after their dreams together and performing to cope with everything, but post disbandment(?) this hits different. don’t make me explain it and just listen to it. thank you.

19. immortal  ⊰ i’m not dying, no i’m not dying today ⊱

this is the band’s lead single on their first album. please proceed to between fear and faith.

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2010s: 55 - 51

55. fusedmarc - “Rain of revolution” Lithuania 2017

[2017 Review here]

Who else? My love for Fusedmarc has become a BorisBubbles.tumblr calling card and come on, there’s no way I wouldn’t drag them this high. Two years later and I still cackle thoughout this song with the exact same vigor as I did two years back. 🤭 Now, I do understand that “Rain of revolution” is one of the worst 10 songs in this decade and... well, yeah, (yeah, yeahyeah NRG yeah yeah yeeeeaaah) that’s the entire point. If we lived in the universe where ESC entries can be compared to motion pictures, in which “Waterloo” is Citizen Kane and “A matter of time” is fucking Titanic, then “Rain of revolution” is The Room, for Viktorija and Denis posses the exact same endearing insanity, inscrutability and genius as Tommy Wiseau.  And honestly, this song should be shown in movie theatres because it turned inteptitude into an artform. Reminder that fusedmarc were the only 2017 act to refuse PBC:UA’s offer for stand-in rehearsals because they were afraid Ukraine would fail at getting their ~vision across~ 😂😍

Reminder that this resulted in technical errors DURING THEIR LIVE PERFORMANCE. 😍

Reminder that they song is punctuated by endless YEAH YEAH YEAHs 😍

Reminder that they only won Eurovizijos Atranka because a diehard vegan facebook group found out that fusedmarc were *also* vegan and urged their lithuanian members to vote for them, allowing them to beat Aiste 😍

Reminder that Victorija styles herself after Little My from the Moomins 😍

Reminder that her diction is equivalent or worse  to the English spoken in the Nekci Menij show. 😍

Reminder that Viktorija’s nail game is more on fleek than yours.😍

Remember that LIFE LIKE ROLLERCOASTEN, SPEENING MI ORAWND 😍

It’s all about MICKIN a start and let their light shine FRUUU U. So DANCE to the RIVEM of ur SOLE, chant ‘LIETUVA’ like that random woman does at the start of the performance (IS THIS THE SAME LITHUANIAN FRUMP who went all out during Belarus, because if so I may have found a soul sibling), end the reign of RevoLucian and look for the reason why hamster on the road. Life is like a rollercoaster and live it to the fullest.

________________________________________________________________

54. Tom Dice - “Me and my guitar” Belgium 2010

I’ll be honest: As a Belgian, Tom Dice has a lot of emotional value for me. The year was 2010: Belgium hadn’t qualified for a final for six straight contests, sending failure after failure. Neither VRT had, until that point, shown any idea behind what they were doing, consistently picking the wrong songs during the national selections. RTBF meanwhile, didn’t even try, sending novelty acts they knew would never qualify. So, imagine being Belgian and seeing Tom get announced, fedora perched askew on his head, with a tepid guitar ballad and you’re like “oh MORE of the same, well bye 😬", except SURPRISE Tom is naturally charismatic and has a great voice and turns his by all standards generic song into an experience. 

It’s the Todevska principle: Tom OUTSOLD. Is he the best entrant? No. Like many ESC alumni he entered the contest with his least good song. Is he the most exciting entrant? Far from it. 

However isn’t it fair to state that we, Eurovision fans from Europe, have always had at least one dark age in our history with the contest? Periods where our supposed “best” wasn’t good enough? Periods where we struggled being proud of whom we were and where we came from. For someone to come out of nowhere and put you country back on the map after years of adversity, be it an ABBA, or a Bobbysocks! or a Tamara Todevksa, that makes for a magical rebirthing experience. Tom Dice is Belgium’s and I am #Proud of it. 

oh and also the live owns dwi. 🤭

________________________________________________________________

53. Aram MP3 - “Not alone” Armenia 2014

WOD EEF EETS ONLE WAN KEES!

Long before ASMR became a popular thing, Armenia send an entry that is only enjoyable if the listeners plugs in their best airphones, clears their heads and lets the music sweep over them.

And I mean, “Not alone” may be a mere Build-Up-To-An-Epic-Climax Ballad, but dear gods is it effective. You see, “Not alone” starts off quiet and solemn, a gentle piano tapping, punctuated with small drums... and then the orchestra comes in and builds and builds and builds until

at long last

WOD EEF EETS ONLE WAN KEES

DAT TERNS AL SIEDS INTO TRIZZ

DE STRONGEIST VIND INTO BRIZZ

OHPEN ALL DORS WIDNO KEEZ

and fuck, take my lifetime supply of hairpieces because that shit is awesome? The only real downside Aram has for me is that he requires a lot of set up: you really NEED to be in The Proper Mood to enjoy “Not alone” in its fullest glory. But when you are willing to take that plunge and be swept away by its rawness, you’re in for three minutes of catharsis. PS: Aram performing it drunk at the finale 😍 

being awesome AND being incompetent in two different performances, what a kraljic <3

________________________________________________________________

52. Ott Lepland - “Kuula” Estonia 2012

There are two reasons why “Kuula” ranks this high and neither is Estonia bias :o

The first is, obviously, the context. I’ve spoken widely about how terrible Baku2012 sounded as a whole, and how disappointment everything was. Well, “Kuula” was not only acoustically sound, it is actually the ONLY song that I was pleasantly surprised me. I had no opinion whatsoever going into Baku and he roses to my #3 of the year.

Which brings me to the second reason why “Kuula” ranks this highly. It is just... really fucking good, lol?

With powerballads such as these it’s REALLY important to suck the listener/viewer in and the combination of Ott’s great voice, adorable personality, the magical language that is Estonian (which also, conveniently, allows me forget “Kuula” has Deep Meaning and Touching Lyrics 🤗), and a great organic build up captivate me immensely. Even though songs like “Kuula” are far from what I normally love, it never fails to sustain me, proving tho every great rule they’re always a greater exception. 🤗

________________________________________________________________

51. Anouk - “Birds” the Netherlands 2013

~She slayed it from the outside~

Oh my god Anouk was such a rollercoaster. From my end, I was OBSESSED with Anouk from the second she was announced (as the first participant of 2013!!!) because hell yeah I LOVED “Nobody’s wife” and “Girl” and this expected ~High Voltage Rock OWNAGE~

What we got instead was... something just as great, if completely different. “Birds” may not have been an in-your-face rock song, but it never-the-less was a beautiful, mesmerising, unpretentious avant garde ballad. “If being myself is what I do wrong, then I would rather not be right” sticks out as an absolutely brilliant line that I often use in my daily writing. 😍 I LOVE how Anouk performs btw, on the satellite stage, in a sea of f(l)ags:

While also delivering distinctly Dutch diction. 😍 Paraphrasing:

“Burds follin daun de roeftops, aut of de skai laik reendraups, no eir, no praad.” 

Like ^ pronounced that in dutch and you literally have Anouk’s diction nailed. 😍

“Birds” was basically the “Me and my guitar” of the Netherlands, but there’s also the added bonus of  Anouk herself. You see, in contrast to her song’s ethereal demeanor, Anouk is KNOWN to be a huuuuuge abrasive confrontal bitch with zero filter 😍 and fragments of her diva personality definitely oozed into Malmö as well, from nonchalantly recording a gritty webcam vid for official channel’s preview vid (😍) to  flippantly pulling a hood over her face each time a journalist wanted to interview her. It ended, how else, with Anouk writing “Walk along” for Trijntje, and then cussing her out for being frumpy / talentless / sucking at life when she NQ’d. When Trijntje tried pinning them blame Anouk for writing her a bad song on purpose (lmfao), Anouk retaliated by stealing Trijnje’s coach seat on The Voice NL. PETTY QUEEN <3 We truly aren’t worthy of this irl Cersei Lannister. 😍

Also um, I just realized I ranked those two on opposide ends of the Dutch chart:

The 2010s marked wonderful renaissance for the Netherlands. I’m never ~OBSESSED~ with their entries, but they are a very solid Eurovision country, reliably delivering good music. I think they’re also the country that has the lowest amount of godawful entries on average (literally 2. Fuck you, “Without you” and “Amsterdam”.). If anyone deserved to win based on track record alone it was definitely them. 

[elo-kuvat]

Fleabag (2016-) and the ‘likability’ of women

What I love about Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s Fleabag is its portrayal of an awful, garbage human being who is just trying to get through the day.

The concept of a ‘likable’ character is a highly contested one. Watching a film or show, the audience needs to root for their protagonist which tends to lead to the idea that the protagonist needs to be ‘likable’ and ‘relatable.’ This makes sense because no one wants to root for someone they dislike. 

This being said, in the past we have seen hugely successful films and shows kill box offices with just completely unlikable characters. Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver, Tony Soprano in The Sopranos, even Ross in Friends. 

Possibly the best example of recent years is the critically acclaimed drama series: Breaking Bad. The protagonist of the show, Walter White, descends with the show’s progression into a self centered, morally corrupt and generally unlikable person. And yet the worse he becomes, he still managed to get the show renewed for a good five seasons.

It seems like the concept of likability and being relatable are loosely applied when it comes to male characters, but can be detrimental to female characters. 

This summer I attended the LES Film Festival’s “Crafting the Female Protagonist” with a panel of amazing female writers, directors and filmmakers. One of the difficulties that Radha Blank (Empire, She’s Gotta Have It) discussed facing as a female writer of color in the industry was that her experience and creativity was often restricted by this idea of being relatable. She found that her projects and ideas were consistently being shot down because execs feared they would not be relatable. One can imagine pitching a film or show to a group of white male execs who see the divide between male and female or white and black as detrimental, especially when it comes to the box office. 

They don’t feel the need to relate to the experience of a woman or a person of color as they don’t see them or their experiences as universal, at least not the way in which being white and male is considered universal. This is where we see the problematic effect of placing the characteristics of white, male and straight as the status quo. The story of a white straight man is not universal, however to the white straight male (who wields great power in society and Hollywood) it is assumed that his story is universal because he has been set up as the status quo.

That being said, as a female in my twenties I don’t find it disorienting trying to relate to a man with cancer in his sixties or even to his drug addict partner in crime. Similarly, I didn’t find it difficult to relate to an indigenous domestic worker in 1970s Mexico in Alfonso Cuarón’s Roma. 

Relatability does not arise from having experienced the exact same story, life or struggle, but from basic human emotions and needs. Walter White is afraid of death and leaving his loved ones, he is also ashamed that he has failed in his career and is bored with the banality of everyday life. All of which fuels his greed to conquer the meth business world. This is how we relate to Walter, not because his status as a white American man makes him universal.

Likability is something women have to deal with off screen as well as on. When women present themselves to the world they are told they must be sweet, pretty and accommodating to the needs of the men around us. We can see this from the way men expect women to smile when they walk down the street or to the way in which women are harassed for not looking ‘womanly’ enough or to a myriad of other awful examples. Women are expected to act ‘nice’ and be likable to the male population. So one can imagine how difficult it would be to green light a (multi million dollar) show which portrays a real and ‘unlikable’ woman when it is already hard enough just to walk down the street as an ‘unlikable’ woman.

This is what makes Fleabag so special. The protagonist, who is only identified as Fleabag, is a deeply flawed human who is dealing with her mess of a family and the traumatic death of her best and only friend. Throughout the two hilarious and heart-breaking seasons of the show, she manages to do some quite horrendous things that begs the audience to dislike her, however, we also see her struggle with shame, humility and caring deeply for the people in her life.

The show uses a fourth wall breaking technique so that Fleabag can speak directly to the audience. While this technique has lost its effect in the past decade and become a bit of a cop out, here it has been revitalized as something new and beautiful. It is used as a special connection only the audience and Fleabag share within this dark world. Almost like a secret language between best friends. 

This wall breaking not only makes us easily sympathize with our protagonist, but also adds to this idea of imperfection. We see the way in which she prides herself on predicting how the people around her will act, but we also see her surprise when she is wrong and the other characters act unpredictably. 

Additionally, like any good wall breaking, we see her lie to the audience as well as to herself. This is common in wall breaking and generally through character action and development because it creates a rich and complicated tapestry in which the character functions and grows.

Fleabag uses sex as a distraction, saying herself that “I spent most of my adult life using sex to deflect from the screaming void inside my empty heart.” She even admits that it isn’t the physical act of sex that she is interested in, instead stating:

“I'm not obsessed with sex, I just can't stop thinking about it. The performance of it. The awkwardness of it. The drama of it. The moment you realize someone wants your body. Not so much the feeling of it.”

Her sexual expression and outright statement of her enjoyment with it, technically speaking, makes her unlikable. Doing so is still quite taboo for a woman and is often received with great criticism and shaming. We do see throughout the show how people react to Fleabag’s nonchalant sexuality and how they make assumptions about her, but ultimately it is an aspect of the character that is embraced.

Additionally, we see Fleabag struggle quite generally with facing issues, usually choosing instead to avoid or seek out a welcomed distraction. However, compared to the rest of the people in her life she is considered the black sheep who pops everyone else’s bubble of denial. 

Her father, sister and godmother all try to passive aggressively talk around their issues or generally act be two faced. In this way, Fleabag sees through them and calls them out. This usually causes great backlash and places Fleabag as the ‘bad guy’ in the situation since no one wants to deal with their real issues. 

The show brings up an interesting concept of being a bad feminist as well as a bad person. Fleabag is highly critical of herself, feeling shame and guilt with herself saying things such as:

“I have a horrible feeling that I'm a greedy perverted, selfish, apathetic, cynical, depraved, morally bankrupt woman who can't even call herself a feminist.”

Often when Hollywood wants to portray a feminist character in a ‘feminist’ show we depict them as perfect role models to look up to. However, those characters are often represent extremely simplified feminism as well as make for very bland characters. We don’t learn from just seeing an ideal feminist, instead we learn from passively watching a character trying and failing to be a feminist. 

Because that is what feminism is at its core, looking inward and being self critical as well as making mistakes and learning from them. Additionally, isn’t a perfect feminist, as well as a perfect person, just someone who makes the effort and fails a thousand times, but still gets up to try again.

Ultimately, watching Fleabag struggle with herself and her seriously dysfunctional family is a breath of fresh air. Audiences can relate to dysfunction since we all feel our lives in someways and to some degree are dysfunctional. Seeing someone on screen struggling similarly or a hundred times worse than us, reminds us we are not alone. We also see a character facing great adversity and conflict and choosing everyday to keep fighting. 

Surprisingly, no one is perfect and therefor watching other imperfect characters is always relatable, even if the protagonist is a woman.

Fleabag’s success will hopefully be used as an example to point to when trying to push for not only more female led shows and films but also to push for more ‘unlikable’ female characters. 

I will leave you with possibly the two best quote from Fleabag:

“Women are born with pain built in. It’s our physical destiny. Period pains, sore boobs, childbirth, you know. We carry it within ourselves. Men don’t. They have to seek it out... And then they create wars, so they can feel things and touch each other, and when there aren’t any wars they can play rugby. And we have it all going on in here, inside.”

“Love is awful. It’s painful. Frightening. It makes you doubt yourself, judge yourself, distance yourself from the other people in your life. Makes you selfish, makes you creepy, makes you obsessed with your hair. It takes strength to know what’s right. And love isn’t something that weak people do. Being a romantic takes a hell of a lot of hope.”

Further reading:

How ‘Fleabag’ Seduces Us, Then Accuses Us - The New York Times

Season 2 of “Fleabag” Is All about Fessing Up - Bitch Media

Men Invented 'Likability.' Guess Who Benefits - The New York Times

Bad Feminist - Roxane Gay