#IT WILL NEVER NOT BE FUNNY TO ME HOW DELIGHTED B GOT ??? FOR VIOLENCE?

[thebrainrotsreal]

Drew this real quick because I fucking love these two so much ???? Especially Bee. I wish they interacted more so badly. PLEASE.

Also learning how to draw these guys.. slowly.

[swampstew]

Roronoa Zoro, O-66 ~ Collaring

Summary: Headcanon list of what your encounter with Weretiger Zoro is like - and how the two of you learn to live with each other. Peacefully? Depends on the day.

Warnings: Spicy and suggestive but not straight smut, collaring kink, Zoro is a weretiger, reader is not described nor given pronouns. Minor violence against Zoro but its kinda deserved. Word Count: 571

Zoro as a Weretiger

You stumbled on to him because he got turned around in the woods where he had meant to hide and managed to wander into a populated area. During the Hunter Moon. It was a miracle that A.) he was a mature weretiger so he had a sliver of self-control and understanding his actions and B.) you had a toy gun that shot silver balls, which you used when he scared the living shit out of you when you were trying to ward off what you thought were raccoons. You were not expecting a hulking beast and shot with no questions asked. Bullseye, you got his left eye and knocked him out.

When dawn broke, Zoro had turned back into his human form. Naked, with an eye patch on his face, and a fuzzy green collar around his neck that was attached to an iron chain that was hammered into the ground. You had sat on the opposite side of the wall and watched him all night, including the transformation. You were in a state of emotions but rendered speechless when you saw his flaccid dick.

“Any chance of you letting me go?” he asked.

You shook your head, “Not until you answer every question flying through my mind. First things first, is your hair naturally green? I thought the dark was playing tricks on my eyes but you looked fucking green last night! A green tiger! What the fuck!”

After he explained that he was a Weretiger, which didn’t make you feel any better about the whole ordeal, he talked you into setting him free by letting him stay on your land. He’d take the shed out back and help you out, give you any protection you needed, and you could lock him in on full moons. Samurai’s honor. No funny business whatsoever.

That lasted one month.

He was a beast of a man with shredded muscles that he worked out religiously, he was strong as hell taking care of most of your chores while you tended to your job, he farmed your land, repaired anything you needed, and he was delightful to stare at with his good looks. He never really left the land due to how easily he got lost, forcing you to have to go out and find him. You threatened to put a bell on him and he didn’t exactly hate the idea.

After a month of lustful staring, he cornered you and asked you straight up. “Wanna fuck?”

“No.”

“No? The way you look at me says otherwise.”

“The full moon is tomorrow. I’m not sure I really trust you right now.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you, might be a little on edge because of it but I won’t turn mid-sex or anything. And I certainly wouldn’t fuck you on a full moon.”

You weren’t convinced but then he had a solution.

“That collar you had on me that first night? It was lined with silver. Use that.”

Turned out, Zoro was really into being collared. A lot. To the point where he wouldn’t take it off.

“It’s kinda cute. Like you think you dom me or something,” he smirked one day. “If it makes you feel safe, it is what it is. But don’t think for one second that it means you own me, little one.”

18 tiles to go, 19 calls made so far.

[something-very-special]

Call Her Back

Probably already a post with this title from the Let’s Play but it’s appropriate.

Thoughts on Replicant up to Ending A (and change):

This game is pretty. I guess it didn’t really hit me because I’ve always thought that the original NIER was pretty, but this game can be very pretty.

This in particular just kind of struck me as I was going across the Northern Plains. It had been dominantly gray, overcast skies up to that point because Part II of the game is meant to be. You know. Bleak. But I walked out onto a bright, sunny day with an expanse of blues skies, the mountains in the backgrounds, the ivy a burst of green growing up the rusted sides of the train tracks and it just kind of hit me that the game can be very pretty.

(Then I got punched out by a Shade.)

It’s definitely not a matter of massive graphical overhaul. The models look much better (getting a good look at the Twins during the finale, they really are beautiful) and I’m sure the environmental poly count is much higher and just overall smoother, and there are little touches here and there and just the capacity for better atmospheric lighting... I mean it all helps. But NIER is a game that’s always had fantastic art direction, making the most out of its budget through atmospheric tuning. There’s something uniquely beautiful about its muted palette and the way it uses its spaces that elevates it beyond the its actual technical limitations. It doesn’t look like an end-of-generation PS4 game, but that’s not an insult; it looks very much like itself from ten years ago, with its solid art direction, but touched up where it matters.

Does the sidequest grind seem... better...? I haven’t really dug into the BEST part of the game (spending 30 hours grinding out weapon upgrades) but I mentioned before my theory about how the sidequest grind is supposed to be carried out across multiple playthroughs and that’s why it sucks. To my surprise I finished Ending A missing only one sidequest (your friend and mine, Life in the Sands), with all of the other ones being more or less... pretty natural? The only thing I really needed to go out of my way for was Memory Alloy but all the other components didn’t really give me the kind of grief I remember from my playthroughs of the original. ‘Grief’ of course being relative to getting the platinum trophy, but my first time through the game I gave up finishing a few outstanding sidequests (specifically, fixing the lighthouse broke me-- I could not find 10 Mysterious Switches!)

Maybe I just got lucky, especially with the Machine Oils. Maybe some weird muscle memory kicked in. I feel like there were a few purchasing options that weren’t open originally, too, to ameliorate some of the grind, but it might also be a case of those options being cost-prohibitive so I just didn’t really acknowledge them... whatever the case the sidequest grind felt overall pretty painless. I dunno!

I really need to know how to manipulate events. For literally seven playthroughs straight of the latter half of the game I always did the keystone quest as Junk Heap (start) - Forest of Myth - Junk Heap (end) - Facade - Aerie. It wasn’t until I did a run with my college roommates and Popola gave me the Aerie letter before the Facade in invite that I realized the Aerie wasn’t actually programmed to be the last event.

Absolutely blew my mind, and ever since I became aware of it, it feels like the game goes out of its way to make sure the Aerie always comes before Facade. When I did my Let’s Play of NIER I kept a save file from the start of the kystone collection so I could re-do the events in case they went ‘out of order’ (according to my headcanon)... which they did. I replayed the latter half of the game again in order to get things the way I wanted them to be, same order, and fortunately it cooperated the second time, but I still don’t understand what the trigger is, if there’s a way to manipulate it, or when the determination is even made.

And then they throw the Little Mermaid into the mix, which I wasn’t expecting (that is, I knew it was added, but I’ve been mostly avoiding spoilers -- and happily, the changes have largely been a delight, I’m so excited for the subsequent playthroughs -- but the way it was posted about made it seem like it would happen after and apart from the keystone quest. Not so, my friends).

The reason for this is just the emotional escalation of each factor of the quest. The Forest of Myth is weird and little else (at this juncture, of course). The Junk Heap is a personal tragedy, but the actual tragedy has already occurred and you’re just experiencing the fallout. Facade is a powerful and personal tragedy that deserves to be experienced later on. The Aerie is a terrible place and nobody misses it it’s an enormous loss and profoundly traumatic for the party, and it feels like the appropriate apex to basically force them to go to the Castle and finish the fight, having already lost far too much.

Also it’s just super weird to me that they see that devastation, they literally wipe an entire settlement off the map, and then the next day everybody’s super excited to go to a wedding.

It also becomes even weirder that you go to Popola post-Aerie and nobody mentions ‘yeah that didn’t go so well’ but coming out of Seafront they have a legitimate conversation about the loss of the ferryman and the people they’re never getting back. I guess that guy had a personality but I still think maybe somebody should mention the smoking crater where people used to be.

Then again it’s legitimately funny to me how basically everybody is just agreed the world is better off without it.

This might also just be an issue of familiarity. Maybe if I’d always ended on Facade, or actually known that they could be swapped out as they are, it wouldn’t feel so weird. I definitely got used to the pacing with the Aerie at the end and I feel like I got into a debate with somebody about how it’s more appropriate for Facade to come last so this might just be a personal thing. But it’s still a personal thing and I’m still vaguely irritated I can’t figure out how it works.

Anyway I blew up the Aerie So that’s that problem taken care of.

I feel like the ambiance surrounding Wendy was a little creepier this time. I swear I heard that good stock creepy child laughter in the background.

Then the ferryman left This was a nice bit of foreshadowing; following the Aerie events I wanted to hop over to Seafront to take care of an extant sidequest only to find the ferry dock in the Northern Plains empty. I thought that maybe this was just a weird way of railroading you to make sure you went through the Village first, even though there were no scenes that would trigger just by being in the Village.

Alas.

Not gonna lie, when the couple was first introduced I thought for SURE it was going to be the wife who wound up dead. I guess it’s because the guy had a purpose as an NPC so yeah, I was tricked. Good design decision; the ferryman is talkative and bright and definitely difficult to forget and even though he was kinda obnoxious there’s a definite void where his dialogue was. It’s clever too that you’re forced to use the ferry at least once so you can’t escape the dialogue that you’re presented with, meaning that even if you don’t really make use of the ferry you’ll always have that contrast between him at the start of Part II and the other guy (his brother, maybe?) taking over the job and just not really talking to you afterward.

Episode Mermaid First of all, to be clear, I’ve not done the Route B playthrough yet. All I know about the Little Mermaid is what’s presented on the surface, what can be gleaned from there, what I remember reading in the Grimoire NieR short story. This is very much just an impression and reaction to the first encounter and it’s pretty cool.

I like that they managed to go into yet another genre style aping a point-and-click adventure.

I like the atmosphere of the wrecked ship. It really brought me back to the ‘ghost ship’ level archetype with its little hints of spookiness.

I appreciate that it ties subtly in to the Haunted Manor (technically the Part I Seafront dungeon) with Weiss’ utterly irrational fear of ghosts.

I love every excuse they find to get Kaine and Emil (and especially Kaine) out of a situation. It’s almost a running gag that Kaine keeps getting knocked out of dungeons and boss fights. None of them are quite as great as her getting Rules Lawyer’d in the Barren Temple, but there’s something delightful about “Let’s get you some fresh air, we’ll be right outside, be careful!” and then bookending it with Kaine and Emil just chilling at the end like “Well yeah there are a lot of holes in the hull we just popped in.”

(I forgot to go backward to see what happens if you try to take them into Seafront proper, gotta remember that next time.)

Interesting thing when you find some of the dropped apples is that Nier and Weiss talk about the dinner they had with the couple. This was actually a really sweet and oddly emotional conclusion to the added sidequest between the bickering couple-- entirely missable. I would assume the dialogue just doesn’t trigger if you didn’t do the quest but it was a nice touch.

I appreciate the use of dead bodies in the hold.

(That’s a sentence.)

But for the game’s focus on violence and excess of blood it’s very selective in how it uses actual corpses. Any time you see a dead body it really emphasizes the seriousness of the situation. The corpses in the hold and the blood spatter -- especially compared to how bright and clean Seafront as a whole is -- was surprisingly effective. Again, just good atmospheric buildup.

Bit of an anticlimax as a boss, though. It is a really cool boss, between the environmental buildup to the fight and then actually unveiling her, but for how big and scary she is the fight itself went by fairly quick, and the actual finale (the postman whacking her hand telling her to go away she’s groooooss) felt a bit weird in comparison to the way the boss fights in the rest of the game usually play out. Of course, I don’t have context of her dialogue (I can take my guesses, her holding out her hand to Hans as he freaks out and attacks her is already a palpable tragedy) and by the way the scene was framed I suspect the Route B reveal is where the most important part of the scenario lies.

And the seals came back! It’s the little things.

“I wish I was Fyra.” So in the original Replicant the conversation between Emil and Nier before Sech’s wedding was apparently an implication that Emil had a crush on Nier and wanted to marry him. It was ambiguous enough that people had to ask for clarification and some players interpreted it as a weird, childish expression of looking up to and respecting Brother Nier. It was clarified in the Grimoire NieR that Emil is gay and crushing hard on Brother Nier, and this line of dialogue here seems to have been... not made explicit, but changed even between RepliCant and ver. 1.22 to make the implication a little clearer, at least insofar as he isn’t interested in girls. (It winds up missing the implication that he’s into Nier specifically, though.)

...which is funny, because it colors his introduction to the King of Facade somewhat differently. These two meeting is honestly really sweet on a few levels (Sechs recognizing him from Nier’s descriptions, which implies that Nier’s been visiting Sechs regularly and so proud of his interactions with Emil he told the king of another nation all about him, and the King is legit excited to meet him) but then a couple of minutes later Emil is all ‘I’m so jealous of Fyra’. He isn’t crushing on Nier, but he is totally crushing on Sechs.

Endgame At this point in the game the distinction between Brother and Father has become mostly lost and the final charge is pretty much the same as

wait what’s up with the music in the Lost Shrine? This is Snow in Summer.

Or an arrangement thereof. That particular track level from Snow in Summer winds up getting used in a few new places and it has this kind of weird, vague sense of dread that makes it work pretty well. Utterly threw me off in the Lost Shrine, though (I think it’s appropriate given its connection to the Shadowlord/Gestalt Nier so slowly re-introducing it in the climb is pretty cool). It also builds insanely as you climb, which is a very cool effect but, um, I’m just here to pick up some sidequest items right now this feels like a little much.

There isn’t much to say regarding any impact or differences in the large part of this area of the game. It’s a good final dungeon, it carries good momentum, it works as well as it ever did (that is to say, rather well). The emotional beats are great and translate equally well between the protagonists, although I have to give the nod to Papa Nier during a lot of this just for the imagery of such a big, powerful man becoming so broken the further he goes in (and Kaine being strong enough to toss him around like a rag doll anyway).

The final flashback with Nier and Yonah also feels better with Papa Nier. I always read it as, of course, Papa Nier having his moment with Yonah, giving her the flower, and as he lays back down Yonah does the same big sigh like she’s trying to emulate her dad and it’s really sweet. This is another one of those moments where it’s not something that feels wrong in Replicant, but just having that comparison in the back of my head is something that I just can’t help.

Is Papa Nier still Best Neir? Yes.

But there’s room in my heart for Brother. I’m glad the bizarre marketing decision happened and both of these characters can exist.

...and then we reload the save. Okay, okay, so-- so here’s the thing-- I figured that’s a good place to conclude a session, right? Get to the ending, prepare for the next run. But I also know that Route B starts with Kaine’s unskippable novel segments. I’ve read them, of course, so I figure I’ll just reload into Route B so I can make a save after the novel sections, really get into the meat of Route B when I’m fresh.

So skim through those--

Beat up the Knave--

Skim through the rest--

Educated Warrior... didn’t pop...?--

Wait what’s this camera angle--

Why am I outs--

oh my god

oh my god

KAINE AND EMIL HAVING GIGGLY GIRL TALK AROUND THE CAMPFIRE OH MY GOD WHAT IS HAPPENING

THERE’S MORE.

THERE’S. MORE.

I legit short-circuited. Going in I knew they added the Little Mermaid. I knew they added Ending E. Those were things I suspected would be added and went out to specifically confirm; beyond that I’ve been keeping myself completely spoiler free.

I had no idea there was more. I had no idea this was happening.

I’m so excited.

And a goofy thought for the road

“I polished you with a special cloth, I poured warm water on you--”

“Wait, you poured water on me?”

/imagines Emil running blindfolded eight hours across the Southern Plains with an 8oz plastic water cup, getting to the library, splashing it on Kaine, waiting expectantly

/nothing happens

/walks dejectedly eight hours all the way back to the Manor

[power-chords]

Post-trip round-up, integration, thoughts (cut for length & some Heavy Shit)

WOW I needed that and I am so glad I realized I needed that. It has been well over ten years since I last took LSD, and my reluctance to indulge in psychedelics again was rooted in a long and complicated history that I don't really need to hash out here, but doing a mild dose of mushrooms last weekend gave me the confidence and conviction that I was ready.

Would it have been wiser to take a less bonkers dose for the first time in a decade plus? Probably! Do I regret a single moment of it? Not a whit! It's tough to overstate just how powerful, therapeutic, and restorative a good acid trip is, even an occasionally intense, uncomfortable one. I do not recommend eating multiple tabs of extremely good blotter on your first rodeo, but Adam's even more of a veteran psychonaut than I am, so I was 1000% well cared for, totally safe, and in a comfortable, familiar environment. In that setting, and in a positive frame of mind, acid is not going to throw anything at you that you are not equipped to handle. I would love to make this an annual or biannual thing.

The cool, funny, wacky delightful stuff:

Put it under my tongue at 10 AM-ish. Went to go listen to some music and doodle until it kicked in. I forgot that the come-up is like, do not make any fucking plans involving hand-eye coordination LMAO. I was trying to doodle Bowery Ballroom in an old sketchbook, and that devolved quickly. The markers were old so some of the caps were really stuck on there, and I wound up devolving into fits of laughter from the absurdity of pulling the caps off with my teeth.

Ink stains on my hands started writhing and trailing and were very cool. That was the first thing I noticed. I got very sad that I stopped drawing and making art, which was something I did all my life and almost went to school for but stopped doing as an adult. And then I realized I could start drawing again any time if I wanted to, and I didn't have to be GOOD at it or a proper artist for it to be worthwhile and fun. Felt immediately happy again.

Adam decided to watch Lethal Weapon???? I was like, Don't Like That. Even though he had headphones on and I couldn't hear anything. I am ambivalent about screens at best when I'm tripping, and at worst I don't even want to be in the same room with them. Guns and violence seemed comically, brutally stupid. Turned my back to the TV and continued drawing and writing until I could no longer hold a pen. Eventually Adam got on my wavelength and was like yeah, this is too much! (He took like, twice the dose that I did. I have no idea how he was even able to talk to me, but he managed!)

Felt the need to message Liana while peaking, picked up my phone, and saw that she had already sent me this:

I thought that was HILARIOUS (tbh it actually was, and it was not just the acid talking)

For the first few hours of teeth-grinding, reality-shearing intensity, Adam and I mostly lounged in bed with the shades pulled all the way up and the window open, cuddling and petting Ernie. Fantastic bonding experience for the whole fam.

Looking at every surface in the apartment became like looking at a stained glass ceiling, or an infinite mandala, or the muddied rainbows in oil-slicked puddles. It looked like Ernie's fur was breathing and someone had colored all over the white parts of him with a highlighter. Adam agreed with this assessment. Formica on the kitchen counters was bananas. So were the trees outside, rippling like celluloid and brighter green than I had ever seen them.

The two of us spent a good 15 minutes doubled over with laughter because Adam suggested a contraption for funneling Fancy Feast directly into Ernie's mouth, kind of like shotgunning a beer

Adam: "I can't believe I used to to this and get on the subway and try to do things with people." Me: "What? How did you even figure out how to get from Point A to Point B?" Adam: "I mean, we didn't, really. We usually got lost. It was fine, though." Truly, it's about the friends you make along the way!

The second half of the trip, when things are starting to mellow out a bit, is when you become a real rock star. I went outside for a walk around the neighborhood, and to sit in the park with my headphones on while watching kids play on the playground, and it was ECSTATIC. I was just overjoyed. My face still hurts from smiling.

Forgot that I needed money to realize my goal of obtaining a popsicle, so I had to detour back into the apartment and explain all of this to my husband before resuming the popsicle quest. He thought it was very funny, but sympathized.

Fresh air, popsicles and San Pellegrino on acid. On another level! 100/10.

Bathrooms still universally suck, LOL. -10/10. Not a fan of that bathroom while tripping face! Every time I had to pee it was like WELL here we go again into the Pink Squirming Hell Chamber (I am making this sound like more of a big deal than it actually was)

15 HOURS. 15 HOURS Jesus Christ lmao I did not stop seeing weird shit on screens and surfaces until like 1 AM. And even then, if I stared long enough, funky colors and patterns would re-emerge. It's a commitment. I feel happy and refreshed, but also totally exhausted. Definitely have to budget a full weekend of No Plans for any future trips.

The Heavy Shit:

There is some Cronenberg-level body horror right before the visuals get super rainbow-stained and stereotypically psychedelic, which sounds bad, but I promise it isn't. It's watching the veins pulse under your skin and change into very saturated colors, pores and hair and scars become very defined and wiggly, and as someone who has so much bodily anxiety related to my alopecia/IBS, it was weirdly... freeing? You get to experience all this stuff in an entirely new frame of mind, shedding judgment and old thought ruts. I remember thinking, "I do not need to feel shame about my body," and letting go of so much baggage.

At some point mid-afternoon I decided to retrieve my phone from the drawer again, and saw that I had a missed call and a voicemail from my dad. I decided to play it back, and he was just phoning to tell me that he was listening to a live version of "Sally Simpson" and Keith was doing this thing where he wasn't even touching the cymbals, and had I listened to that specific performance before and noticed the same thing, and wasn't he truly the greatest drummer that ever lived? "Anyway, no need to call me back, just wanted to let you know. I love my bubbie!" (His term of endearment for me.) And I went to go sit in bed and weep for a straight 15 minutes, the most cleansing, purging cry you could possibly imagine, while Adam hugged me and rubbed my back. I was overwhelmed, overcome by this feeling of cosmic Love and Connection with my family and my husband and all of my friends.

I had been sitting on and burying so much fear and distress from the past 18 months, the chronic, low-grade trauma that was worrying if COVID was going to kill my father, my best friend and closest confidante and the one person on earth who I feel truly Gets Me on a spiritual level, and all of that came out. Fully processed and released every ounce of grief. What replaced it was the absolute, unshakable faith that no matter what happens — including my greatest fear, which is inevitable, no matter how far off it may be — he will always be with me, and a part of me, in the music we both love, and I will never, ever lose that.

[itsuki-minamy]

“K - THE FIRST STORY”

CHAPTER 10: THE MAN WITH THE FOX MASK (Complete)

* K - The First Story (List of Chapters) * Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

He doesn’t remember the first thing.

However, when he was secretly called by the Slate and became "King", he knew that the color of the "King" he received was "Colorless", and he remembers that he was strangely convinced.

He was a transparent man like water. Not individual and flat. He was a person who had few emotional ups and downs, had no noticeable thoughts, was not attached to people, things, or even himself, and was just there in silence.

Why did such a person become a "King"?

He somehow he was convinced that he knew of his ability as "King".

He was able to insert his soul into someone else's body, read and swallow someone else's memory, abilities, and life and make it his own. In other words, it was just water in a large pot to make soup. That is why he was transparent, tasteless and colorless.

He had no interest or attachment to himself. So he left his body without any regret and walked around the bodies of others.

He doesn't remember it well, but at first he thinks he probably didn't have any particular purpose.

However, since he had become a "creature with such power", he continued to swallow the lives of many human beings with the vague idea that such power should be used.

"I wonder if this power can save people." He entered the body of a nurse and thought so.

"If my mind drifts, I can be a genius, right?" He entered the body of a college student, and that was the end.

"Most of the people in the world are stupid. It should be led by a powerful person." He entered the body of a politician and cross his arms.

"To have power, first of all, violence! Fear has brought people down." He entered the body of a yakuza man and breathe.

"Let's get what we want from one end. I can do that." He entered the body of a rich woman and laughed a lot.

"This is strange. This is wrong." He entered the body of a teacher and held his head.

"It's lonely. I want someone to praise me." He entered the body of a lonely child and cry.

He walks through many human bodies.

Many skills, knowledge, thought, experience and life have become his. He started to get a sharp idea and his emotions got higher and lower. Although his capacity was great, as a result of continuing to take possession of the lives of people with conflicting ideas and sensibilities, his thoughts, desires and actions became inconsistent, and his personality as a human being was disturbed.

One day he was visited by a parrot.

"Putting on a mask is a good idea. You are a person."

Said the parrot.

At that time, he was an old man who owned an antique store.

Interrupted by his personality and spirit, he took an attacking action, knocking the merchandise out of the store to the ground and rampaging, not knowing what he wanted to do.

The air outside was cold in late fall, but the windows were open. A parrot with green feathers was standing on the window railing and speaking in fluent words that could not be considered as a bird.

He should put on a mask.

"Who are you?"

The passion that had made him rampage like crazy until then subsided, and he asked calmly as he watched the strange parrot.

The parrot inclined its head in a strangely human gesture.

"I'm a passing advisor. You seem to be in trouble, so I called you. It's advice."

"What does it mean to put on a mask?"

The parrot makes a rattling noise and spreads its wings. It was very similar to how an exaggerated person extends his hands.

"Now you are unable to unify your will and your actions. This is the price of your great power. As a result of assimilating all human memory, your memory has been altered."

"Other than that, I don't regret anything in my memory."

"Still, it would be a problem if you couldn't define 'who you are'. You're just a bankrupt person. Without you, you have no purpose."

The parrot who spoke softly, did not take his eyes off his emotionless eyes.

"What do you do with a mask?"

"I entrust 'myself' to the mask. That mask will become your faceless face, and it will be a good idea to assemble the ego that is being photographed."

He silently stares at the parrot for a while, and suddenly he looks down at a point in the messy shop.

There was a fox mask that fell on the tea utensils that broke on the floor.

He reached out and lifted the fox mask, staring at the elongated, eerily cut eye hole.

The "King" fox, who is bad for others, is a source of the fox. He felt it was a good match for him.

(This is the face of "myself".)

That perception mysteriously fell on him and became the outline of his shyness.

He raised the fox mask to his face and looked at the parrot.

"I am the Seventh King, the 'Colorless King'."

"Fufu.", Laughed the parrot.

"Nice to meet you," Colorless King ". What is your dream?"

There were various thoughts and voices in him. Soft voices used to be quiet, lost to loud and violent voices and became inaudible. He heard many inner voices and shook the baton like a conductor to combine those voices into a piece of music and put it in his own thoughts.

"I will be the strongest 'King'."

After that, the parrot became kind to him.

He gave him various information and advice when he started acting to become the strongest "King".

It was fun talking to the parrot about his ambitions and acting like him.

"The meaning of my birth was probably to unite the world. I am a recipient that accepts the whole world."

"I see. It's an interesting idea."

"The King does not need seven people, and I will swallow all of his power, skill, experience, memory, and thought, and unite him."

"That's your way. I understand."

The parrot disagreed with his words, but showed understanding.

He took the sincerity of this parrot to simply listen and understand that that was his chosen path, rather than a weak empathy.

"There are four 'Kings' that we know where they are now. The first king, the 'Silver King', who is still flying in the sky in an airship. The second king, the 'Golden King', who lives in the huge Mihashira tower. In Shizume, there is the third king, the 'Red King', who lives in a bar. And the fourth king, who has a camp in Tsubakimon, the 'Blue King'."

He licked his tongue, wondering where to start.

"The "Golden King" is still a bit overloaded. It will be difficult if you don't get the power of another "King" before sneaking into the stronger "King". The powers of the "Red King" and "Blue King" are similar, but the red is unbalanced. Between these two people, the red could be broken."

"I agree. We are going to come up with a strategy for that."

"Oh, but before the red, it is better to start with the easy part."

"The easy part?"

"The only king of his kind, the 'Silver King'. I think he's no longer motivated to play the 'King'. It's better for him if he gets it right away."

The parrot was a bit quiet.

"But it's also the beginning of the Dresden Slate. Don't let your guard down."

"My power is effective in humans who have a void in their hearts. The "Silver King" has abandoned the responsibility of the "King" and has been fleeing all the time. My heart is empty. For me, he is the easiest person. to catch."

Also, the attributes of "Silver King" are not modified. In other words, basically, he will be the strongest body that will not get hurt or die. He argued that once he had that power, it would be much easier to eat another "King".

"Okay, so it's a good idea to plan in parallel the contact with the 'Silver King' and the trembling of the 'Red King'."

When the parrot decided to take over from the "Silver King", the parrot seemed eager to cooperate with him, although at first he was a bit reluctant.

By carrying out the plan, the parrot even gave him a nice body as a gift.

A harmless boy with a pretty face and a simple identity.

"As he is an unaffiliated child, you can use it however you want and it will not cause you any inconvenience. I have tampered with the information and erased the public records, so it is unlikely that you will be caught by a public institution."

The boy's body was in good shape. He sang with his body. A song of delight. It was a song of joy.

He was ready. The necessary tools, including firearms and bombs, were collected on the way through the body and stored in various hiding places. The body of the mob was useful for collecting tools, but it was inconvenient for them to live after using them, so, he kill some of them when he leave their bodies. He killed them, but no one needed to cry, since all the memories and experiences of them were stored in him.

The parrot had never denounced or denied his actions. He was just there, taking care of him and giving him advice and information if he asked. For him, the parrot was the only "friend of the outside world."

"Hey, parrot."

The night before the decision, he told the parrot.

"The 'King' creates the Clansmans, right?"

"As for the presence or absence of Clansman and the amount, it depends on the 'King', but basically it is affirmative."

"Why don't you become my clan member?"

It was a funny word. But it's not that he wasn't serious.

The parrot rolled its eyes and bowed its head.

"I can't do that. Didn't you notice?"

"No. I noticed. Are you also a 'King'? 'Green King', Nagare Hisui."

There was no reason not to notice. In the first place, it was clear that he was not the only one who felt and he contacted the awakening of the "Colorless King", which not even the Golden clan could capture, and now he had this parrot ready. He was in the body of a young boy. All the memories of the boy were inherited by him. This boy was a user of an SNS called "Jungle" operated by the "Green King", and a game in which he actually completed missions issued from him and received points, a game in which many people are crazy behind the scenes. He knew, of course, that it was one of the more well-known games, and he kidnapped the boy in the first place because he was invited to an unpopular place called a mission.

The boy who possessed this body was a transparent boy who had little connection with people, like air, like water.

He felt that this boy looked a bit like the original me that he had forgotten about.

Just as the boy, who was not interested in interacting with people, was still looking for some connection with the peculiar social network "Jungle", he could have looked for something in the parrot.

"I just said it. I sent three people thinking that it would be fine if there was one person who could see me from the outside."

"Are you dreaming of putting the world in you? Don't get halfway there."

The parrot simply replied, spreading its green wings.

"You and I are walking different paths and dreaming differently. You were very interesting and I helped you because it was perfect for the basis of my dream. It is a unit of interest."

"Oh."

"In order for you to capture all the 'Kings' and become the strongest 'King', you will eventually have to fight me. So, let's play a good game."

The parrot's eyes were directly directed at him, not reflecting his emotions.

"Then, goodbye."

There was a creak.

The green feathers that flew fluttered in the air to his feet.

"Hey."

He called involuntarily, looking at the parrot, which flew away and got smaller.

The parrot, who appeared when he was about to destroy his ego, put a face on him, listened to his ambitions and gave him an answer, he was terribly gone.

Being left alone, he felt asexually reluctant.

He felt that the lonely child in him was crying "alone".

"Hey."

He calls back to empty space. At that moment,

"What?"

There was a voice to answer.

It was a voice that came out of his mouth, there was no one.

Oh, yeah, it felt like a revelation.

He was not alone. Even if he had only one body, he was filled with the greatest abundance. There was a world in his body. He lifts the world.

He heard the voices of the many personalities within him, but before the voices confused him and broke his ego, he covered his face with the fox mask.

"I am the Seventh King, the 'Colorless King'. A human being who accepts all 'Kings', gains all power, knows everything and becomes the world itself."

It felt clear in his head.

He grabbed the pistol he had prepared and stroked the black barrel with his slender fingers.

"Let's step forward. First of all, as the first stone to destroy the 'Red King', let's kill Totsuka Tatara, an executive of the Red clan who is also a plug of the 'Red King'."

Then, he will go to see the "Silver King".

Once he has the immutable defense and the flame of destruction, he will no longer be afraid.

Making a smile under the fox mask, he also sang a song of joy.

++++++++++

"Damn!"

He attacked the "Red King" and, on the contrary, he was bitten and jumped out of the room in anger.

Immediately afterwards, Suoh's flames, which were chasing his power, exploded and the force of the explosion sent him rolling down the hall.

The room he was in until now was blown up, and when it burned, the flames consumed everything. The power was great even though it was an attack from a remote location. He clicked his tongue feeling ridiculed.

He thought the unstable "Red King" was weakening in the "Scepter 4" dungeon, but he still seemed reluctant. Nothing is more dangerous than a beast that has some physical strength left.

His forehead ached a little and he touched with his hand. The fox face he wore was gone. Looks like he was blown away. He appeared to have a small burn on his forehead. It is not something he cares about, it is just a temporary body. There is no problem if it breaks.

"Wow! Hey, are you okay?"

He could hear the footsteps and the voice of the schoolgirl running down the hall. When he raised his face, Kukuri Yukizome, a girl who was a classmate of that body, came running up and looked at his face anxiously.

"Oh, I have burns on my forehead! I'm cold! What happened?"

Kukuri immediately wet her handkerchief with water and put it on his forehead. She made a confused look.

"I don't know... When I passed by, the room suddenly exploded..."

"That room shouldn't have been strange, but... maybe a gas explosion."

He reflected, looking at Kukuri, who was afraid to look inside the charred room, saying that she had to contact the fire department and the police.

Perhaps the red clan will reach Gakuenjima before the fire department and the police. The "Red King" Mikoto Suoh must have identified this place by grabbing his tail, which has interfered with his psyche.

It was easy to leave that body and escape before the "Red King" entered, but it was also an opportunity. This island, which is isolated to some extent from the main world, is a perfect place for battles between kings. He was ready to face it.

When the "Red King" arrives, the "Blue King" will definitely start moving. It's a good idea to push red and blue to physically weaken them before eating.

And the mystery boy, Isana Yashiro. The boy, who was alive even after being thrown from the airship, suddenly began living on this school island with the face of a student. He was in a position to be hunted by both the red and the blue, but he can return if this school island turns into a battlefield.

He will have to meet Isana Yashiro again.

"Hey, Yukizome-san."

He told Kukuri, returning the slimy handkerchief to his forehead.

"Do you know what Isana is doing now?"

"Isana-kun...? Um... who...?"

Kukuri turned her head with a confused face. It seems that Isana's memory is not preserved.

"Oh, Yukizome-san, you don't seem to know Isana. Nothing, don't worry."

"Oh, where are you going? Let's report the explosion together..."

"I'm sorry."

He smiled at Kukuri. Perhaps because he wore a fox face all the time, he smiled like a fox.

"I'm busy with a lot of things to prepare from now on. And since only one room exploded, Yukizome-san, you don't have to worry too much."

It's not as bad as a disguise or two disappearing, because something was about to happen.

When the Himmelreich crashed, he kidnapped the boy's body and rushed to the crash site. He examined the body of the "Silver King", who had fallen from the airship, but after he left, his body had no pulse and he was not breathing, and he never woke up like Weismann again.

He left Weismann's body unattended, left the scene before the police and "Scepter 4" reunited, and went to a hideout in search of firearms and bombs to retrieve it.

He then kidnapped the driver of a truck carrying goods to Gakuenjima, loaded weapons and bombs, and invaded Gakuenjima. Weapons are important to him who does not have much attack ability currently, and Gakuenjima, who is very isolated as a hiding place, is unexpectedly convenient and above all, Isana, who is the person in question, was on the spot and was likely to return. After hiding the guns in the school, he kidnapped one of the boys and settled in the school.

It was a miscalculation that the "Red King" was stronger than he expected, but he was more or less within his calculations.

They were ready to start the festival.

Sitting in front of the clock tower, he was looking in the direction of Gakuenjima gate.

The sky above the door distorted and a red light exploded.

"He already came."

A huge sword emerged from the tension created in the sky.

The red Sword of Damocles.

The shape of the sword collapsed, cracked here and there, and the debris spilled into small pieces.

Well, he was impressed that he kept that spirit in that state.

"It's an early arrival, 'Red King'. Well, it's a day early, but it's the start of a fun school festival."

At the same time as his words, the door exploded. The screams of the students echoed.

From the rising smoke, Mikoto Suoh, the "Red King", appeared with a large number of clansmen behind him.

The students were stunned for a moment by the sudden explosion and the invasion of men with terrifying apparitions carrying weapons like metal bats and iron pipes, and then they all escaped at once, starting with someone yelling.

Looking at the fleeing students, Suoh made a troublesome face and developed a flame in his left hand.

He shook his arm with the flame lightly. The flame flew straight towards the clock tower and landed.

"Whoops."

Sitting under the clock tower, he hurriedly jumped out of the place. When he turned around as he evacuated inside where sparks and fine tiles fell from above, he saw the clock tower bend cleanly from the middle, kick up dust, and collapse.

(Just bullying the loud boy, I don't think it's an attack aimed at him, but... he's a strangely level-headed bastard.)

He was alone on the inside, with a cold sweat and a smile on his mouth.

The students, who were in a panic and trying to escape, were left with pale faces, witnessing the extraordinary power and the clock tower that collapsed.

The area had changed from the previous annoyance and was quiet. It is a horror that you can imagine, but when you witness a horror beyond your imagination, people become rigid.

In the frigid air, a man in sunglasses raised a megaphone. Izumo Kusanagi, the executive member of "Homura".

"Hi, keep calm. Didn't you learn anything at school? Don't push, don't run and don't talk during an emergency. It is important to obey those three 'no's. We are not here to cause you trouble. So please remain calm and cooperate. This shouldn't take long."

Kusanagi said with a smoky smile and a soft, reassuring voice, and when he removed the megaphone from his mouth, he exchanged a word or two with Suoh. Suoh seems careless, and now he was walking towards the clock tower that he destroyed.

After looking at his back and taking a breath, Kusanagi turned to the "Homura" people and raised his voice.

"Find the boy who murdered Totsuka, even if you have to destroy this place!"

According to the command, the members of "Homura" screamed. A large group of young men with bad style rioted. He snorted and looked to see if these unmannered thugs could conquer this vast school, but "Homura's" men were unexpectedly well-mannered on a personal level. They began to divide them by hand, and while listening to the students, they began to put them together in one place.

He gently left the place.

When he returned to the school building while he was avoiding the "Homura" boys, the students who still didn't understand the situation were wandering around.

"What's going on...?"

"I just heard an explosion nearby..."

Kukuri, Inaba, Mishina and others huddle together eagerly. He approached them casually.

"Now a lot of people like gangsters have broken through the door and invaded."

In his words, Kukuri and her colleagues expressed fear and suspicion. She maybe she couldn't believe her words because she couldn't feel reality.

However, the school broadcast started to flow at a good time.

"Well, from this moment on, Gakuenjima is under the control of "Homura". I repeat. Gakuenjima is now under the control of "Homura"."

"Lie."

Inaba muttered involuntarily and covered her mouth with both hands. Kukuri supported the one who staggered with a pale face. Mishina turned his face around and looked at the speaker he was broadcasting.

"Students must follow the instructions of our members. As long as you do, you have nothing to fear. We are currently looking for a friend of ours. He looks like the image on the screen. If anyone recognizes him, please report immediately to the closest member of our team."

The hologram monitor in the entrance hall of the important school building, which was sending information about the school festival, was distorted and the video was changed. An image of a boy holding a gun was projected.

"What is this?"

"Oh, this is the guy I saw at the website earlier."

Along with the stunned Kukuri and the others, Mishina screamed. Kukuri looked at Mishina with wide eyes.

"No, it was rumored that it was a video of a murder done as a prank, but I was curious and I kept it. But, it is true that they are looking for him like that. He is a murderer…"

"Why come to our school to find such a person?"

Inaba pursed her lips with a tearful face.

Apparently "Homura" is still looking for "Isana". The body of a child who was his favorite with a cute and harmless face.

That body now walks alone. He still has something to do with "Isana". If "Homura" can find him, it would be better.

Well, that seed is already broken for the "Red King". For Suoh, searching for "Isana" may just be to find a clue.

"Oh, the staff is here! Everyone quietly enter the room!"

Several men from "Homura" ran into the school building and intimidated the students. The schoolgirls scream in fear.

On the other hand, some well-built male students looked at each other and sent signals to each other, and all at once jumped to take control of the "Homura" boys. There were more male students than "Homura", and they probably had confidence in their strength in the martial arts athletic club or something like that. In fact, the boys managed to take the metal bat that they had as a weapon from several of "Homura's" men.

"You are the ones who should be quiet!"

One of the boys barked. However, the "Homura" man laughed. The guys who tried to support themselves turned and kicked with a single kick.

Shouts and echo of marshal. The man from "Homura" did not use flames, but the boys' large bodies flew slightly and fell silent.

"If you follow me, did you say on the air right now that you are not afraid? On the contrary, if you do not obey and make a fuss, I will hit you! Remember that!"

A man from "Homura" said that and took the metal bat that was picked up by a student. When the man shook it slightly, the bat turned red and on fire.

The strange sight increased the voltage of horror from the students. In addition to the fear of simple violence, the fear of the unknown cultivated the students.

"Good.", He giggled inside.

His power pierced people's hearts. He sneaked into the other person through a space in his heart, he shook the other person's heart and opened the door, and made the other person's content yours. Therefore, it is difficult to get into a stable human being.

But now there is no one in this place who has a stable mind. The students were shaking with fear and anxiety, and "Homura" was more excited than usual.

He licked his tongue alone, watching a convenient stage complete.

As the ready meals are lined up, he walks melee.

When the student's body was restricted in his actions and it was inconvenient, he entered "Homura's" body and then entered another student's body and wandered around the school.

Every time he changed bodies, he gained new memories and experiences.

Naturally, he was singing a song of joy again.

The song of delight shone well on the island where elation and crying mingled, and it seemed like an auspicious cry.

He shook his body from side to side, sang a hummed song, and walked down the hall. There was only one voice that followed the melody, but in it many voices overlap and reverberate like a magnificent chorus.

The chorus was the proof that he was not alone, that he was a "King".

(Who will move on? It might be interesting to eat the best ranks of "Homura" here. Oh, but isn't it bad to get close to Anna Kushina? I shouldn't look into that girl's eyes. That girl's sensitive eyes will see through of anyone inside.)

First, he will delve into the mixed environment. The blue will come and start to bite the red, then...

Ping, pong, bread, pong. And a silly sound that was not suitable for this situation echoed, and the transmission flowed again.

"Oh, attention to all the members of our team. The blue dogs will pay us a visit. The groups near the gates, reinforce the guard."

Izumo Kusanagi's voice was heard giving instructions to his friends.

The blue dog is "Scepter 4." It seems that the actors are getting together.

He laughs like a fox. The great delicious song chorus that hasn't stopped yet.

[lunapaper]

Album Review: 'Screen Violence' - CHVRCHES

I’ve said it a lot over the years, but it bears repeating: I thought Love is Dead was awful. Most people did, in fact.

Working with super-producer Greg Kurstin, CHVRCHES’ 2018 album saw them go from sinister wordplay and cinematic soundscapes to repetitive hooks, vague platitudes and bland, Imagine Dragons-style EDM pop.

Needless to say, it didn’t go down well. In their attempt to appeal to mainstream audiences and Spotify algorithms, the Scottish trio had managed to disappoint critics and alienate longtime fans. Accusations of ‘selling out’ get thrown around all too often, but it really did feel like a betrayal of sorts.

And it only got worse from there, with the band collaborating with pop’s Kiss of Death, Marshmello, on the tepid ‘Here With Me’ (a decision they later came to regret).

Lauren Mayberry didn’t take kindly to the criticism, even accusing Stereogum’s Chris DeVille of supposedly using the record as a ‘symbol or scapegoat for something.’ What the frontwoman had a problem with is not entirely clear, though she seemed to chalk it up to politics, writing in a series of now-deleted tweets:

‘You can write a crappy album review and feel smart and what do I give a shit. But don’t minimise the ‘resistance’ as a comical joke/a stupid thing that you think is funny or smart because you are privileged enough to not actually have to think about it in real terms. It actually matters to people who live outside of you moment/life/world view, so shame on you. Maybe I live in my ‘inter personal comfort zone’ but at least I give a fucking shit. What can you say in exchange?��

DeVille’s take was, in my opinion, quite fair, even if he does admit that Love is Dead is ‘not a faceplant, but it’s definitely a stumble.’

Mayberry’s knee-jerk reaction, unfortunately, left a bitter taste in my mouth, impacting my already low opinion of Love is Dead. As I’ve also stated time and time again: What’s the point of responding to a negative review without looking petty as fuck? If you don’t want your art judge by the masses, then being an artist is probably not for you.

It’s also pretty rich of the band to try and make excuses for why everyone hated Love is Dead. No one made you produce a generic pop album. No one made you write and record a ‘tacky pop song’ with Marshmello. How could you not know that he’s a sleazy EDM bro, the rest of us did! Don’t take your shitty creative decisions out on everyone else – that's on you.

So, have CHVRCHES been able to rectify the damage on Album No.4? For the most part, yes.

Keeping production duties in-house this time around, Screen Violence combines the dystopian feel of their 2013 debut with the sleek gloss of later releases.

Written and produced through screens between LA and Glasgow in the early stages of the pandemic, the record explores the horrors that play out on screens via social media and how they translate into real-world feelings of fear, isolation and hopelessness.

On the ‘depressing but hopeful’ Asking for a Friend,’ Mayberry admits ‘'Cause I sunk some ships with selfish lips/And it all came back to me/I was terrified//I never told them why,’ riddled with self-loathing and regret. On ‘He Said She Said,’ she reckons with industry sexism and social contradictions, the track recalling the heady euphoria of the trio’s earlier singles.

‘Killing your idols is a chore/And it's such a fucking bore/'Cause I don't need them anymore,’ she asserts on the glistening ‘Good Girls,’ obliterating the pedestal that some male artists sit upon. Insecurity, however, gets the better of her on ‘Final Girl,’ wondering if she should just ‘quit, maybe go get married’ before she becomes yet another victim of the Hollywood machine.

Repetition is also employed a hell of a lot better than it was on Love is Dead. When Mayberry tells you she feels like she’s losing her mind on ‘He Said She Said, it’s like she’s in the grips of madness while trapped in a cybernetic void. Fear grips her by the throat on standout track ‘Violent Delights’ as she begs ‘I don't want to see it’ over and over again.

Screen Violence also lives up to its name music-wise, proving a lot darker and more foreboding than 2015’s Every Open Eye and even The Bones of What You Believe.

There’s jangling indie rock on ‘Violent Delights’ that give the track a foggy sense of nostalgia. On the menacing ‘Final Girl,’ they drive Mayberry’s sense of panic as she stares back in disbelief at a flickering screen, while the thumping New Wave angst of ‘Lullabies’ sees her vocals soar. Final track, ‘Better If You Don’t’ is almost straight-up grunge, evoking the feel of a rainy Glasgow morning.

And apparently ‘Nightmares’ was ‘too metal for German radio,’ suitably chilling as Mayberry asks: ‘What is it like to be the apple of your own eye?’ It could almost be mistaken for a Poppy track. Darkest, though, is ‘How Not to Drown’ with The Cure’s Robert Smith, their dissonant tones rising from the murky deep like a haunting spectre.

Screen Violence doesn't reinvent CHVRCHES, but it does help to reinvigorate them, even if the record feels a little samey at times. Some mediocre lyrics also manage to slip through the cracks, yet Mayberry’s commentary is overall cutting, brutal and sometimes tragic.

From trying to seem perfect on Love is Dead to realising things aren’t so fucking perfect after all, the trio discover that there’s ‘freedom in failure.’ Though they might never reach the dizzying heights of The Bones of What You Believe or even Every Open Eye again, CHVRCHES have found a groove that works for now just as the world finds itself in the grips of an ongoing nightmare.

Hopefully they’ll be able to sustain this momentum in the long run...

- Bianca B.

[hedgefairy]

Okay, I know, I know, it's already old news, everybody and their uncle in the costuming community has already talked it over, but anyhoo, I made notes when I crawled my way through effing Bridgerton and I will be damned if I don't vomit them onto this site. I have 32 pages of this shit, I'm not gonna throw that away.

I'm also typing this on my phone because I'm stuck on a trainride that's just doubled in length because this is the 2021 Northern German snow storm. What, there's snowflakes on the rails? We cannot possibly keep up our schedule, say goodbye to 90% of the connections.

Okay, on to Bridgerton, Episode 1

We're in Britain (oh, London, okay), allegedly 1813. I see people who are clearly meant to be asympatico, but is this size incusivity I spot there? Daring! Gasp! Me li...

Oh wait, no. The character is promptly shamed for her figure (which is mostly caused by the horrible cut of her dress. Every size can look great in Regency garb, but never mind, we need to make the "fat one" look bad!).

Also, no shifts under the stays. Why. There was obviously enough budget, don't tell me you couldn't afford a few strappy tops - it's not like the rest is historically accurate, so it would have sufficed to send some poor underpaid intern to H&M and get some. Nvm, that wouldn't be sexay.

Wait, is the garishly dressed (always a sign of a character of bad character in a costume drama) woman Delphine from Selfridge? Does she always have to play bitches? That's not nice, and just because she has a recognisable face, which by modern (read: americanised) standards is not favourable enough. Ugh. But I like the actress, so I'll let it slide (for now).

Lol, buttocks.

Not sure about the girls' dresses. Also, the Queen is a WOC, cool!

Oh no, one of the Featherington sisters faints! But that's okay because the Featheringtons are just comic relief and foil anyway.

I get weird incest vibes from the Bridgertons.

So the court is clearly 18th century and the show is set in the 1810s. I've by now seen several explanations for this decision, I still think it robs the Queen of reproductions of her actual historical gowns which were heavily inspired by the 18th century but so. Magnificently. Weird. It would have been so neat, and more of a "hey, I'm kinda out of touch with things" vibe, but hey, I'm not the one getting paid for making those taffeta gowns here (her hair is glorious, tho).

I'm very into the intro.

That Regency gossip girl is a real b, not unlike the Dowager Countess of Downton (unpopular opinion, I think she's pretty overrated, yes, I like Maggie Smith).

Again, no shifts.

Where do I know the "pragmatic" Bridgerton sister from? Ah, it's The Paradise. And Jonathan Strange. (Wait, she's my age. And she's supposed to be a teenager. Man, do I love a good Dawson casting. I like the actress, though, she has a face ™!).

Aaaah. We get it. She's the spirited one. She also doesn't care about dresses because she's not like other girls™. I really like her voice (but she still doesn't sound like a teenager).

The heck is up with Lady F's dress and that of her friend? Oh, yeah. Antagonist fashion.

Of course the Featheringtons are Horrid Hags™ aside from Penny who's nice, but the pudgy one (at least we don't get a case of "she's not conventionally attractive so she's bad").

Oooh, the cousin! Supposed to suck, but ofc she's a stunner, and only Penny (who's the nice one, remember!) is delighted to have her around. She's also a POC, which is nice but apparently that means she does not follow fashion, hair-wise. I would have loved to see some Regency hair on her, it would have been so pretty *cries in Greek updo*

Ugh, we're still in Ep. 1, typing this on my phone was a bad idea.

Lady Danbury and the Duke guy are delightful with each other (more POC! So neat!).

The girl the oldest Bridgerbro screws is apparently a singer, which isn't up to status for his doucheship, and she doesn't wear a shift.

The music at the ball sounds like something from the Top 40s, but I'm woefully ignorant of contemporary music charts so I can't tell what it is. I like it when they do that in historical-ish works, making well-known pop or rock stuff work for the ambience (ugh, that dance scene to Golden Years in Knight's Tale. My heart. In a good way.)

I dig the Ducktail hair of Penny's crush. Oh, wait, that's a Bridgerbro. I don't quite get why the hair trends of the time don't apply to the POC characters or extras, but seeing how most white characters also show a shameful disregard for the weirdnes and gloriosity (that's not a word) that is early 1800s hair (the 1830s take the cake, tho) despite those hairdos being basically designed for white people hair, I don't think I care much (well, I do, but about all of them). Overall the hair is horrid and not very 1810s. Let's just leave it at that.

Like a good old romance novel (I've since been told that Bridgerton is supposed to be a pastiche of such novels, but I really couldn't tell from the series, not at all, and I'm not inclined to read the books) we have

a pretty, kind, superpure daughter of the main family

the mean matriarch (could have been an aunt, too, but here she's the mum) of the rivalling or antagonist family

a spirited daughter of the main family (in most romance novels this would be our heroine but so far she refreshingly lacks a love interest and pretty daughter seems to get the most screen time)

a Horrid Suitor™

a Hot Suitor™ who doesn't want attention

a really good and doting good parent

Lol, misheard Greece for Grease with Ducktail Bridgerbro, whose name is Colin, apparently. This is funny because of his Danny Zuko memorial hair.

Overall a bit too much bling for my taste, and too few pearls. It looks like an episode of My Super Sweet Sixteen with a Regency theme.

Of course the romance is going to be the Pretty One aka. Daphne and the Duke and he's even bros with her eldest bro. Wait, are they exes? I can haz bi? No? Aww, shucks. Maybe in another episode (spoiler: no).

Okay, WHAT is it with Lady F's dresses and hair. Like, she reminds me of Mars Attacks. Which, as you might remember, was not set in the Regency period.

Lord B (Bridgerbro the Eldest) sucks, he's screwing Opera Girl without any intention of marrying her but he's bitchy about his sister being ogled by his Eton (or wherever) bestie?

Oh, I'm in Hamburg now. And my train back home got canceled, so back to Berlin it is because there's not a single option to get to Hanover tonight, at least that's what the lady from the train station is saying, "oh well, you'll have to go back and try again tomorrow", so that's awesome...

Honestly, if it weren't so late and I didn't have things to do at home I'd find this terribly exciting.

Back to Bridgerton!

Where were we? Ah.

I can't even read my own annotation. Something about George III. I think I was upset about how they totally ignored that it's called Regency because George IV acted as the regent king, and he doesn't even feature in the series, I guess because they wanted to play up the Queen? Not a fan, because thanks to Horrible Histories I'm quite fond of that guy.

Again, no shifts.

Oh, look, it's Horrid Suitor™, destined for leftovers.

The Featherington cousin gets all the attention but no fleshed-out character.

Penny Featherington's dog is named Lord Byron, which ❤️

I like the Duke! He's there, drinking in his club (even though they're a patriarchal remnant of the past I have a weird appreciation for stuffy Gentlemen's Clubs, I blame Bertie Wooster and the Drones), calling Lord B out for his general fuckery.

Oh no, Ducktail Colin is more into the Cousin than Penny, who obviously pines for him!

Thank you, Lord B, for enabling Horrid Suitor™. Nobody asked you to be such a fucktwit.

The Queen is, of course, a bit of a bitch, but patronage from cool Lady *scrolls up for name* Danbury ensues for Protagonist Girl™ Daphne.

"I wish they had found a better trend language", what the heck did I even mean by that? That's what you get for just scribbling down notes while watching and simultaneously sewing. 18th century pants, in case you wanted to know.

Cousin is angry, probably because Lady F behaves like Cinderella's evil stepmother, because Cousin is prettier than her daughters and gets, like, all the suitors because Lord B bitched away everyone who wanted to get into Daphne's dowry ifyouknowwhatImeanwinkwinknudgenudge, right across the street into Cousins parlour.

The Bridgertons are annoyingly perfect. Ugh.

Oh look, it's "banter" between Daphne and Dukey! It's so Pride & Prejudice! It's almost a tiny bit Shakespeare! I put banter in parentheses because wow, nope, I'm not getting any chemistry here.

Uh, Lady B calls out Lord B (aka. her son aka. Bridgerbro the Eldest) for his screwery with Opera Girl and his outpimpery of his sister to Horrid Suitor™, buuuurrrrrnnn. He promptly calls of his affair with Opera Girl.

No shifts!

Penny gets to dance with Ducktail Colin at the thing! Good for her, but it's a country dance with jumping and fun, because she's a) the pudgy character and b) a Featherington, so it can't be something romantic and pretty (I personally like country dances, but they aren't protagonist dances).

Oooh, Cousin had her period, oh no, oh snap, oh she didn't, because she's PREGNANT! Shit, that's problematic, and not because she's an unmarried woman in the 1810s, but because she gets close to no lines at all so far, and suddenly she's pregnant and telling Lady F that she sucks for being privileged, violence ensues, this is ugly. Man, I get what some critics mean by "the POC actors*actresses get all the problems" and that not exactly being great.

Horrid Suitor™ makes property claims about Daphne, eeewwwww, thanks to Lord B's general suckiness, ewww, r@pe attempt ensues, was that really necessary? It doesn't really fit in with the rest of the series and generally nope, yay, broken nose! (which was indeed totally necessary). Nice one, and probably the only scene so far (spoiler: overall) in which I actually like Daphne. Dukey thinks a mean left hook is attractive, and, generally speaking, he's not wrong.

Daphne and Dukey come up with a pseudo-shakespearean plot to pretend to be totally into each other so she can attract suitors by being not available and he gets not to have fangirls by being not available, and as someone who has read a few too many historical-ish bodice rippers I know exactly where this is going. I mean, come on.

I can't see enough of the following choreography to complain about it. Man, I miss historical dance classes.

And that concludes Ep. 1! Finally! Thank you for getting this far, sorry for all of it (especially typos, it's the bane of unwanted autocorrect), I guess?

Update on the train situation: I've been told by the ticket control person that I shouldn't get my hopes up until noon tomorrow.

To be continued,

because I didn't take these 32 pages of notes for nothing.

[asktheheirofslytherin]

The children were grateful for the autograph, they have it hanging by the ones they have of quidditch players, Nathaniel was insistent because you had “done the greatest deed in this mess”, keeping his favorite store open. Children’s priorities amaze me every day, Maeve was insistent this week that she share her toys with the house elf because Whimsy should get to have playtime too.

My eldest niece Maisie is 18, she was a Ravenclaw and has been immensely helpful in making sure the others educations don’t fall behind. She’s also been helping me go through and pack what remains of our extended families library collections, she’s even got one of the heaviest boxes marked for ones she wishes to read herself. It’s quite funny that for having such a strict analytical mind that she is an accomplished seer. I think her determination to understand and control her gift is actually what has allowed her to succeed. Nathaniel is her younger brother he’s turning 13 soon, he is a Gryffindor through and through, a rambunctious trouble maker who doesn’t always thinks things through but it ultimately loyal. Then comes the twins, Luna and Luca, they’re 9 now and both quite quiet. However Luna has an affinity for plant life and nature based magic, and well Luca is just a bit of a pyromaniac. Their brother Leo is the youngest in my care, only 18 months old. Then there’s Maeve, the animal lover who stayed at our hounds sides all week until we heard the news, she’s to turn 5 soon. I honestly sometimes wonder if she’s actually able to communicate with the different creatures she always seems to find, she says she can but children that young are known to imagine theses sorts of things, especially after trauma.

Maeve unfortunately saw my youngest sister and her husband die, they were in a bookstore that got attacked. Maisie and Nathaniels father, my older brother, was attempting to protect their home from looters, he finished mending the protective shields but used too much energy and had none left to heal his injuries, their mother died years prior. I’m not quite sure what happened to the twins and Leo's parents, their father was my little brother and sent them to me, away from most of the violence initially in our ancestors home, but I received notice of their death not long after they arrived. There’s also a good possibility my youngest uncles three children, two sons and a daughter (14 b, 11 b, 7 g) will be put in my care if he does not come out of his coma. His wife’s parents can handle them short term, but are much too old to care for them in the long run.

By chance is the Bagshot Park Estate available or perhaps Claremont House Estate? They are a bit large, but we need land for when accidents happen, which they’re bound to when learning the old magic. Mess up one step and anything can happen. Also, the hellhound needs space to roam, especially when his mate visits.

I’ve been informed to properly join I’ll need to go through trials. I was wondering if I would be able to know what this entails. Also, as the children in my care come first, I must insist that they be settled in to wherever we find our new home in England before taking on these trials. They’ve been through so much I simply must ensure that they feel safe in their new home before spending much more time away from them.

Thank you again for your time my lord,

I hope to make your acquaintance soon,

Iona McKinley

(Maeve has included a drawing of our hellhound and his mate. Maisie says this gurdyroot Luna harvested earlier this week may be useful if you are not careful with the soup you consume and recommends paying close attention to the wives of men with whom you dine for the same reason within the next four weeks)

(Writer of this blog: this is quite fun thanks for doing this, I doubt I’d be able to consistently come up with answers for such a complex, selfish, and perfect cult leader, definite early signs of sociopath (killing that kids bunny and stealing others treasured and valuable things and lack of empathy) that seem somewhat canonical. Ik we know a lot about Voldemort which definitely helps but people who run these blogs in ways that seem true to character are talented. I always try to understand where people come from and what’s made them them. I try not to hate a person but only hate the actions and choices they make and the actions and choices that have effected them. But ik with some of these questions you get I’d probably have to really try to think hard about what the character would say and put a lot of focus on separating myself out of the equation. You’re kind of like a skilled method actor. Like Heath Ledger (RIP) was a wonderful and kind person, but he was so good at separating from himself and really becoming the joker.)

Children are indeed a baffling delight, are they not. I remember when Delphini was small, and she enjoyed giving me flowers to set upon my desk. I humored her, and there would be bouquets of daffodils placed around various dark texts and artifacts. What a sight that must have been! I was perhaps too annoyed with the child at the time. They do grow rather quickly. 

Maisie sounds like she has a good head on her shoulders, as any Ravenclaw does. A fine house - I am certain she knows Delphini, though Delphi was a bit of a wild teenager and I would imagine she would not have hung about anyone with half some sense at that age. Shame, truly. But she is calming down a bit now, as much as one can with someone like Bella for a mother. She takes after her mother in more ways than one, which is a blessing and a curse. 

A Gryffindor? How unfortunate, but it does sound as though you are raising him right. As for the smaller ones, they sound as though they will turn out well - despite the challenges. War is very hard on our children, unfortunately. My condolences for your losses. 

I recommend Bagshot Park. More land for the children to run amok on - especially if you gather up more.  

Ah, so you wish to take the Dark Mark? I had assumed you would not want to get terribly involved in government as you have the children no one in your position would get hounded after to take the Mark, with that in mind, so if you feel you must out of necessity, you need not worry. Ah, but Bella informs me this is sexist, and you may merely just want to take the Mark out of genuine interest. I admit, I grew up in a different time, and perhaps forget this on occasion. 

We do generally prefer an eldest son take the mark when he comes of age -  your oldest boy being a Gryffindor, he may resist this custom. However, if Maisie were to marry one of my ranks, (or I suppose take the Mark herself, if she is interested) then perhaps we can look the other way about the boy.   

The trials only last a night, and are a test of loyalty and strengths more than anything. There is dueling involved, so dress comfortably. But we can speak more to that once you are settled.

Regards, 

Lord Voldemort

[[OOC: sorry this answer took so long! But I tend to delay longer asks for when I have time and energy for them - longer questions do take longer to craft an answer. And thank you! <3 <3 <3 I am so glad you like my blog, and that you feel I do Voldy justice! I’ve never heard writing be compared to acting before but it really makes a lot of sense, and that is really cool to think about. Thanks again!]]

[fanfic-corner]

Slow Burn

You ever want to read a fic that is probably as long (or longer) than a book series, but not have the main love interests kiss until chapter 300? Then you probably have some issues, but I'm not a therapist, so here we go.

Stand By Me by whelvenwings on AO3. (31,252 words).

Tags: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Post-Apocalypse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Slow Dancing, Smut, First Kiss, Canon-Typical Violence, Touch-Starved Dean, Love Confessions.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Dean Winchester has been alone for a long, long time. When he and Castiel happen to find each other - a couple of survivors in a world that’s been all but wiped clean - Dean’s looking for his brother; Castiel is looking for something to look for. They stick together, because neither of them much wants to be alone. They hate each other at first, of course. Dean hates Castiel for being weird and quiet and ironic and antagonistic and proud. Castiel hates Dean for being blunt and reckless and coarse, for drinking, for refusing to talk about how he feels and just pretending everything is fine. Most of all, they hate themselves and each other just for being alive. What right do they have to be alive? No one else seems to be. But against his own will, Dean starts to notice things about Castiel that he likes. Starts to hope that Castiel might like him, too. And together, they start to fight for a world where they're both alive - and that's a good thing.

Notes: One of the first fics I ever read, and one of my faves! The ending was slightly unsatisfying, but not so much that I would drop a star.

Angel's Wild by LimonadeGaby and riseofthefallenone on AO3. (389,271 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe, Wingfic, Hurt/Comfort, Wing Kink, Slow Build, Slow Burn.

My Rating: 5 stars. (If I could give it more, I would).

Description: But that’s the whole reason he’s here, isn’t it? He’s not out here hunting Humans. He’s not even hunting deer, or bears, or anything else that featured in Bambi. He’s out here, freezing his nuts off every night, because he’s hunting Angels. Sometimes Dean wishes that Angels were like how they’re described in the Bible. How people from time too old for him to care much about thought Angels were messengers and warriors of God, protectors of Humans. He knows that how they’re really described in the Bible is actually pretty terrifying, but at least they were told by God that they’re supposed to love Humans, right? That’s a thousand times better than what Angels really turned out to be.

Notes: I would be lying if I said I didn’t read all these slow burn fics just so I could rec this. I would also be lying if I said this wasn’t my favourite fic of all time. The pining is so intense it is practically unbearable to read. Honestly, I don’t care if you think it is too long or it isn’t really your thing; I would rec this to anyone with ears. I will still be reccing this in Hell. It is absolutely phenomenal.

a turn of the earth by mishcollin on AO3. (95,274 words).

Tags: Time Travel, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, POV Dean Winchester, Alteration of s10 lore, Homophobic Language, Smut, Pining Dean, Preseries Dean, Mutual Pining.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run. Frigging fantastic.

Notes: An absolutely excellent plot, which is excellently written, and is somehow simultaneously angsty and adorable.

Forget-Me-Not Blues by noangelsinthegarrison on AO3. (68,689 words).

Tags: Romantic Comedy, Firefighter Dean, Professor Castiel, Weddings, Misunderstandings, High School AU, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Sam and Jess are getting married and Dean couldn’t be any happier for them. Honestly, they’re kind of disgustingly perfect for each other and Dean’s pretty damn excited about staying with them the week before the wedding. He’s Sam’s best man, of course, and he doesn’t even mind that Jess has her own best man to share in all the organisational duties. The more the merrier, right?Except Dean must have done something to epically piss off the universe because Jess’s best man just happens to be Castiel friggin’ Novak. He’s got even hotter since High School, but apparently no friendlier and if Cas wants to spend the week pretending like they’ve never met before? Fine. Two can play at that game.

Notes: Jesus Christ, I have not read a single fic which sums up exactly how stupid Dean and Cas can be sometimes. I loved it.

the cost of a thing by quiettewandering on AO3. (74,198 words).

Tags: Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake Marriage, Human Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Touch-Starved Castiel, Mutual Pining, Jealous Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Depressed Castiel, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sharing a Bed.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: 16 months ago, Cas became human.12 months ago, Cas left the bunker and a broken-hearted Dean behind. Now they must work a case together, where married couples are dying mysterious deaths and the only way to earn the neighbors' trust is by pretending to be married. Slowly, Dean finds that he loves being in a relationship with Cas, fake or not, and Cas finds his loneliness retreating, despite the harsh reality looming right around the corner. As Dean and Cas navigate this fake, but all too real, relationship, can they find the monster that is on a mysteriously motivated killing spree before it’s too late?

Notes: So cute! All the angst! My favourite trope! (So many exclamation marks!)

In All Your Borrowed Finery by vanishingact on AO3. (67,950 words).

Tags: Winged Dean Winchester, Winged Sam Winchester, Winged Castiel, Winged Gabriel, Spells & Enchantments, Hunters & Hunting, Case Fic, Harpies, Canon-Typical Violence, Major Character Injury, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Fluff and Humor and Smut and Angst, Wingfic, Fanart. My Rating: 5 stars. Description: Dean finds an interesting symbol in Kevin's angel tablet notes and, against Sam's counselling, uses it in the heat of battle with a pair of angelic assassins. Side effects include pain, disorientation, and uncontrollable new appendages for the Winchesters. A disgruntled Castiel and a delighted Gabriel show up to help. Hunting (and life) gets interesting when wings are involved.  Notes: Okay this was literally adorable and you can not convince me otherwise. Every time I read a fic with everyone’s favourite archangel, I miss him just a bit more. (This fic is slightly more Sabriel than Destiel, but only by a little).

In This Secluded Spot I Respond As I Wouldn't Elsewhere by RhymePhile on AO3. (33,953 words).

Tags: Modern Setting AU, Teenage AU, High Scool AU, Romance, Best Friends, First Love, First Kiss, Slow Build, Minor Violence, Bullying, Homophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean Winchester, Texas, Slow Burn, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, No Sex, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Raised Separately, Mary Winchester Lives, Artist Castiel, Nerd Castiel, Grieving Castiel, Jock Dean Winchester.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: It's 1995, and Castiel's high school years are destined to be difficult: home-schooled until eighth grade, he is awkward, shy, and socially inept. The weird kid with the funny name would rather isolate himself and draw in his sketchbook than deal with the constant bullying he faces every day. Things only get worse in his junior year when he excels in home economics class, leading the captain of the baseball team, Alastair, to start taunting him for being gay.Then new student Dean Winchester arrives at Flour Bluff High School, sharing many of Castiel's classes. Castiel has seen his type before -- handsome, athletic, arrogant, and sure to be the most popular kid in school. But Castiel eventually learns that he and Dean have more in common than he thought, and they form an unlikely friendship.

Notes: Pretty cute, and I did enjoy reading it. Not sure why like half the slow burn fics are set in a high school, but hey.

'Star Wars is Overrated' by leftdragonpainter on AO3. (38,186 words).

Tags: Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Pining, Drinking, Writer Castiel, Mechanic Dean, Neighbours, Swearing, Winchester Logic, Big Brother Gabriel, Clueless Dean, College Student Sam, Awkward Dates, Slow Burn, Injured Sam, Emotional Constipation, Angst, Confessions, Smut, Drunk Texting, Love Confessions, Temporary Amnesia, Angst and Humor.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: When Dean Winchester turned sixteen he was disappointed by the words that appeared on his chest. He never expected that it would take so much to find his soulmate. He never expected to not remember meeting them...

Notes: Every time I thought I knew what was gonna happen in this fic, something completely different happened. I think I have whiplash (but I love it!).

The Elysium High by EllenOfOz on AO3. (44,768 words).

Tags: Post-Apocalypse AU, Los Angeles, Dystopia AU, Angels are Dicks, Addict Sam Winchester, Recreational Drug Use, Witch Sam Winchester, Detective AU, Confused Castiel, Drugged Sex, Slow Burn, Cyborg Castiel.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: In the not-too-distant future, climate change has wreaked havoc on the city of Los Angeles. When sea levels rose, and the Los Angeles Basin began to flood regularly like many coastal areas around the world, the population of the city moved up, off the ground and into the scrapers. Many years later, the city is divided into three rough zones: the Topzone, where the very wealthy live in the sunlight; the Midzone, where those of the less-well-off population live amid the flying traffic, the smog and their coffee addictions; and the Groundzone, what's left at close to ground level—dim, grimy and occasionally very wet. Sam and Dean Winchester are drug investigators in the LAPD. During a bust, Dean is saved by Castiel, one of the mysterious Angels, the elite fighting unit of the LA City Council. When Castiel insists on taking Dean to Paradise because he says they have work for him, Dean has little choice but to go along. But when a new drug, “Elysium”, hits the scene, people all over the city start dying. The brothers and Castiel must work out where the drug is coming from and stop its spread before it's too late.

Notes: There was nothing wrong about this fic, it just wasn’t really my cup of tea. I found the fic that it reminded me of though; I Know A Place by whelvenwings. It is fairly similar, but in my opinion a tad better.

So there we go: slow burns! And if you’re thinking, ‘Lina, where are all the ridiculously long ones? I want them to have their first kiss 300 chapters in?’ just know that I do not have the patience or the time for that. Mostly the patience. Okay, maybe I avoided them because they make me want to smash my phone. Whatever. Another day, maybe.

[gemma-lemma]

CLoudy Days - JJ Maybank x Male OC

Chapter 1.2 – Agatha and the aftermath

While Pope and John B were out surfing the surge, parker stayed at the Château alongside JJ, since he didn’t know how to surf. Why JJ wasn’t with his friends either? He had no idea.

“Is there still beer?” He asked, glancing up from his book and to JJ, who had just stood up to go to the kitchen.

“Why don’t you go and look for yourself?” He muttered, but opened the fridge, nonetheless, grabbing a can and throwing it to Parker, who wasted no time to open it.

“Fuck!” He exclaimed as the sticky liquid sprayed all over his shirt, making JJ laugh. “Fuck you, Maybank!”

“Maybe another time, thanks.” He retorted as he watched the Cloud boy put his book to safety and quickly drinking out of the can to prevent further damage. His shirt, though, was already soaked.

“Fucking shit.” He muttered, pulling it over his head and throwing it onto the floor.

JJ swallowed and averted his eyes from the sight of Parker’s slender muscles. “What happened to your arm?”

Parker glanced down at his bandaged upper arm, which had been perfectly hidden by the sleeve of his t-shirt up until now. The memories welled up like a flood, and he bit them back down harshly.

“Doesn’t matter.” He croaked and grabbed his book again, but JJ wasn’t satisfied with his answer.

“Doesn’t matter? You come here one day, out of the blue, not even knowing that Big John is presumed dead, with a bandage around your arm and an unholy stack of cash and tell me it doesn’t matter? I dunno where you’re from, my friend, but around here things work differently.” JJ snapped and stepped closer to the sofa.

Parker was just about to shoot something back, tell JJ off or something, when he realized what the blond had just said. With momentum he stood up, successfully ignoring the blackness appearing before his eyes, and stepped to stand right before JJ. Only now did he realize that he was barely a few centimetres taller, and that the blue in JJ’s eyes was like the sky on a sunny day.

“You went through my stuff?” He growled, making him turn pale with realization. He smiled, but it was not a friendly smile. It was a deadly one, and it caused JJ to glare right back.

“No, I didn’t, you freak. Chill down, man.” He snapped.

“Then how did you know about my cash?” Parker growled, stepping closer to JJ, and delighting in how insecure it made him. He pushed the disgust at himself upon doing so far down, allowing only the boy who grew up between drugs and violence to breathe.

“I- uh, John- John B told me. Yeah, John B told me. Now, get off of me!” JJ stammered, but as Parker didn’t budge, he took a step back himself, regretting it the instant the edge of the table pressed against his thighs.

“But I never told John B about my money. For all he knows I could be poor as a canal rat.” He snarled dangerously low, and JJ swallowed, looking at him with wide eyes. This Parker was different than the one who had pushed him off the boat when they were twelve just for the kicks of it. This Parker was a lot more unpredictable, and a lot more dangerous, too. This Parker wasn’t searching for a good laugh, he was searching for danger.

“So I went through your stuff. So what? You gonna report me to the cops now?” JJ shot back with all the courage he could muster and made sure to return Parker’s glare. Only then did they realize how close they actually were, faces only centimetres apart from each other.

That’s when Parker decided that a bluff was probably the best tactic to stop JJ from investigating further on why he had so suddenly appeared. “Nah, I’d have to explain to ‘em where the gun comes from, then, wouldn’t I?” He grinned wickedly and watched JJ’s big blue eyes widen.

Only then did he let go of the Maybank boy, who in turn let out a harsh breath and continued to glare him down. Bluff or not, now JJ could put together himself why his arm was bandaged.

Parker went back to rereading his book for the umpteenth time, while JJ stormed off to his room, staying there until John B returned from the beach, completely soaked and with a surfboard under his arm.

“Whoa, look who didn’t die!” Parker cheered and tried his best not to flinch as thunder rumbled. John B held up his middle finger for an answer.

“Of course I didn’t, I’m a great surfer.”

“Still not as great as me.” JJ cheered, finally coming out of his room again and seemingly ignoring Parker’s entire existence.

“Yeah, if that’s what makes you sleep at night.” John B chuckled and shook the water out of his hair like a dog. Parker held his book out of reach and gave his cousin his best Billy Idol lip.

“Ya know, dogs usually stay outside for the night.” He grumbled, earning only laughter in return.

“Maybe usually, but not during a storm.” John B teased and went to the bathroom to wash off the salt water. Right after he closed the door, and another thunder rumbled, making distracted Parker jolt violently. JJ shot him a curious look.

“You afraid of thunder, man? Sounds to me like you’re more bark than bite.”

“Fuck you, JJ. I’m still enough bite to chew off your head, don’t forget that.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure you are.” He grumbled, although not sounding offended, taking a beer out of the fridge and throwing it to Parker before retreating back to his room. “It’s just noise, man. It can’t hurt you.”

The rest of the night was hell for the boy, and he only found sleep in the early morning hours, when the thunder finally ceased.

 “Morning Parker.” John B woke him up in the late morning hours, passing by JJ too and slapping his leg.

“Yo, JJ. You been outside?”

“I have polio, bro. I can’t walk.” JJ muttered without even looking up. John B didn’t let the two sleepyheads stop him on his way outside though, where he assessed the damage hurricane Agatha had caused.

As he made his way through the garden towards the HMS Pogue, JJ, in a seldom rush of mischief fuelled motivation, jumped off the couch he’d crashed on and decided to tear off Parker’s covers too, who in return just made inhuman noises and flipped him off.

“Now that’s a pretty finger you have there.” JJ smirked. “Sleep well last night, you rabid dog?”

“Fuck you, pretty boy.” Parker responded, hauling himself up on his elbows and squinting outside. When he finally found it in himself to get up, JJ had already taken his half-empty beer can to the front porch, where he leaned against the pillar of the veranda. Parker approached him with sore muscles and followed his gaze towards John B, who liberated the HMS Pogue of some broken branches.

“Agatha did some work, huh.” JJ called out to him and took a sip of beer before burping.

“Yeah, she did.” John B answered and shot a quick glance towards Parker, who heavily sat down on the front steps, shirtless, so even his cousin now could see the bandage.

“Whatcha thinkin’?” JJ asked and walked towards the boat while John B climbed onto it. Parker decided he’d rather stay sat.

“I’m thinking that storm surge pushed all the crabs out on the marsh maze. All those drum are gonna chase the crab.” John B answered.

“What about the DCS, wasn’t that today?” Parker called.

“Nah, they’re not getting on a ferry. Come on, think about it.” John B said and raised his arm towards the water. “It’s God telling us to fish.”

So only little time later the three boys were on the boat, driving through the harbour to pick up Pope. While John B and JJ greeted random people they passed, asking if they had gotten through the storm well and talking about cleaning the mess up all summer long, Parker was sprawled out on the front of the boat, feet dangling from the edge and soaking up all the sun he could get. Presuming that he was going to end up in the water one way or another, he had taken off the bandage at the Château, now openly sporting a barely healed, self-stitched bullet-wound. John B hadn’t asked him about it, assuming his cousin would tell him why he had run away from home whenever he was ready.

“Well, look what we have here.” John B teased when they found Pope, spraying down the deck with a garden hose, and JJ whooped.

“We have a safety meeting, attendance mandatory.” John B said, mimicking static and holding his hands in front of his mouth like they were holding a walkie talkie.

“I can’t,” Pope responded, and Parker curiously raised his head before sitting up. “My Pops got me on lockdown.”

“Hey, Mister Pope Senior!” Parker shouted happily and raised his hand in a wave.

Heyward, who was just walking up behind his son, turned his head towards the voice and squinted. “Parker, is that you?” He laughed.

“Alive and kicking, sir!” He answered with a big grin. Heyward had always liked the boy’s bubbly attitude, and he had spent a lot of time worrying about his wellbeing after Big John had told him that his mother Tamara had died. Parker, in return, had always been fascinated by the way Heyward could get you anything you asked for.

“Nice to see you again, boy! How you doing?” Heyward asked, but was interrupted by JJ talking to Pope, mimicking static just like John B had before.

“Your dad’s a pussy. Over.”

“Oh, I heard that, you little bastard.”

“We need your son.” John B intervened.

“Yeah, and island rules. Day after a hurricane’s a free day.” JJ shrugged.

“Who the hell made that up?”

“Uh, Pentagon, I think.” Parker smirked and shot a wink to JJ, who was surprised that he was playing along.

“We have security clearance.” JJ tore his look away from Parker and cleared his throat, feigning to search something in the pocket of his pants. “I have a card.”

“Do y’all think I’m stupid?” Heyward grumbled, coming closer.

“I’ll do it tomorrow.” Pope promised. “Tomorrow.”

“You think- No, no, no. Hell, no. You doin’ it right now.”

“Get in the boat.” Parker whispered.

“Make a run for it!” JJ cheered, and Pope did, leaving his shouting dad behind.

“See you, Mister Pope Senior!” Parker laughed and laid back down.

“Man, why you calling him that?” Pope asked laughing, finding it strange and extremely funny at the same time.

The Cloud boy shrugged. “Sounds funny. And when I first met him I just for the love of God couldn’t remember his name, so I had to find something else to call him.”

His face lit up like a light bulb when they met Kiara soon after. “Oh, top o’ the mornin’ to ya.” He said and sat up straighter while the others said good morning too.

Pope motioned to the cool box she was carrying, asking if she’d got some juice boxes.

“You know, just some yogurts and carrot sticks.” She retorted and grabbed Parker’s hand that he held out to help her onto the boat as JJ asked if she had his kind of juice boxes too.

“Yeah.” She hummed and sat down next to Parker, motioning to his stitches. “Whatcha got there?”

“Stitches.” He smiled and Kiara understood that he didn’t want to talk about it. So instead of asking further questions, she opened the box and handed everyone a beer.

When they were further into the marsh, JJ climbed to the point of the boat and asked Pope to drive a little faster, who in turn just sighed. “Oh god, here we go.”

“It doesn’t work.” John B groaned as the blond raised the beer so that liquid could fall right into his mouth. “We’ve tried this like 6,000 times.”

Parker watched curiously and leaned forward to get a better look, scrunching his nose when he was hit by little beer drops.

“Oh my god, you’re getting beer in my hair!” Kiara groaned and Parker squatted protectively in front of her, sending a charming wink that made her laugh.

When the boat abruptly stopped, not only did JJ make a salto into the water, but Parker too couldn’t keep his balance and rolled backwards off the tip. When they both resurfaced growling, John B called out to them if they were okay.

“I think my heels touched the back of my head.” JJ whimpered, while Parker raised an arm to sloppily hold onto the boat.

“Yeah, feels like my cranium broke. And my neck. And probably every other bone in my back.” He added in a harsh breath, rubbing his neck where it rolled over the hard plastic of the boat.

“Pope, what did you do?” John B asked.

“Sandbank, man. The channel’s changed.”

“No shit!” JJ exclaimed and swam towards the boat. When he reached Parker, he scanned the boy for any new visible injuries and was relieved when he didn’t find anything. “You good, mate?”

“As good as new.” He answered and shot a look to the beer JJ was still holding. When he noticed, he proudly held it up.

“Hey, I saved the beer, though.”

“Congrats, JJ.”

“Guys, I think there’s a boat down there.” Pope interrupted and everyone pressed to the edge of the boat to get a better look.

“Holy shit, he’s right. Let’s go.” Kiara said, and they all started taking off their shirts.

“Yeah, I’m gonna wait here at the surface.” Parker announced and hauled himself up while the others dove down.

When they came back up, JJ gasped. “You guys saw that?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s there?” Parker asked curiously.

“That’s a Grady-White.” JJ explained excitedly as they swam back to the boat. “A new one of those is 500 Gs, easy.”

“What, some Kook go down there?”

“Yeah, probably.” JJ laughed.

“That’s the boat I saw when I surfed the surge.” John B exclaimed, earning an irritated look from Kiara, that he ignored.

“Do we know whose boat that is?” Asked Pope as John B opened a hatch.

“No, but we’re about to find out.” He promised and grabbed the anchor.

“Dude, it’s too deep.”

“Only for the weak and feeble, JJ.”

“Well, I’m not resuscitating you. I’m just making that clear up front.” JJ assured and Parker sent a wicked grin towards Kiara.

“That’s okay, Kiara can do it.”

“What? No way! Stop encouraging such bullshit, Parker. You didn’t even come down the first time.” She snapped and slapped his arm, right under his stitches. Groaning, he held a hand to it and crunched down, making the girl’s expression go panicked.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She stammered, but he only raised his head and grinned.

“Huh, gotcha. Didn’t hurt, you fly.” Parker grinned, just as JJ pushed John B into the water and everyone scrambled to the front of the boat to get a better look at the quickly disappearing Routledge boy.

“Should we go get him?” Pope asked after some time without a sign from him, and just like that he broke through the surface.

“Oh my god, that took forever.” Kiara groaned, and Parker swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. He held a hand out for his cousin to grab as Pope asked for dead bodies.

“No, but I found a motel key.” John B answered and held a key with a bright yellow pendant up before grabbing Parkers hand.

JJ groaned and hauled up the anchor. “Great, we salvaged a motel key.”

Just as they were driving back, Kiara’s face lit up. “Guys, we should report this to the coast guard, maybe we’ll get a finder’s fee.”

“Yeah, and not work all summer.” JJ agreed. “Thanks Agatha, ya batch.”

 The coast guard though, was packed. After the storm everyone was having problems, and nobody wanted to wait. Parker could even hear something about a dog having diabetes before JJ shoved him back outside again.

“Well, that went well.” He sighed and watched JJ fidget with the white pen he had just stolen.

“So, what’s the plan?” Asked Pope and John B held up the motel key, saying he knew how to find the owner of the boat. JJ leaned an arm on Parker’s shoulder, watching the conversation silently.

“We don’t know whose room that is. It could belong to anyone.” Pope protested, motioning to the key in John B’s hand. Curiously, Parker took it out of his hand to get a better look at it himself.

“I’m in.” JJ said, took the key out of Parker’s hand and threw it to Kiara.

“Come on, I’ll be lookout.” She encouraged and started walking, while John B reminded him of the finder’s fee.

“Come on, bubba.” Parker grinned and patted him on the shoulder. “I’m smelling an adventure.”

 “Motel or meth lab?” Kiara asked as they reached the motel and JJ whistled.

“And I thought the Château looked bad!” Parker laughed, earning an annoyed look from John B.

“You be the judge.” Pope answered Kiara’s question.

“Doesn’t look like the kind of place somebody with a Grady White would stay.” John B noticed.

“No, looks like the kind of place somebody with a Grady White would get killed.” Parker agreed, as they pulled the boat on land.

“Hey,” Pope said to John B, as he was about to follow JJ onto land. “Don’t let him do anything stupid.”

“Oh, we will.” JJ retorted as John B said: “I’m not making any promises.”

“Yeah, no. Take Parker with you.” Kiara decided and he raised his head in confusion, having thought that he could stay and chill on the boat for a little while longer. He really didn’t feel like doing anything these days.

“What makes you think I’m not worse, honey?” He asked and raised a brow but stood up to follow the other two none the less. Kiara gave him a look and walked up to John B.

“Be careful.” She said, and then with emphasis: “I mean it.”

John B looked confused as he agreed and stepped off the boat while Parker turned around and mockingly sent her air kisses, to which she replied by flipping him off.

When he reached JJ and John B, he shot a disgusted look at their surroundings. “Why are all the mattresses out here?”

“After a hurricane they have to ditch ‘em ‘cause they’re mouldy.” JJ explained as they walked up the stairs. When they were looking for the right room, he grabbed John B by the shoulders and tapped his cheek.

“Just be so careful, John.” He mocked Kiara’s words and Parker frowned. “What the heck was that about?”

“God, you’re so weird. Maybe she wanted us to be careful, duh?” John B groaned and shook him off.

“Since she heard you’re being threatened with exile she’s just been like, uh, be so careful, John B. Just give me that John D already.” He moaned and ignored when John B pushed him off again.

“Like, when are you gonna swoop on that, man?”

“Bro, you know the rule. No Pogue-on-Pogue macking. Besides, you’re the one who’s always hitting on her.”

“Yeah, of course I am. She’s a super-hot, rich hippie chick slumming with us. Why? I don’t know either, but who cares? I know that door’s locked ‘cause I’ve tried it, have you?”

“You need help, man. A lot. It’s like, every girl that has a heartbeat, you’re like – Uhhh!”

“What, man? It’s not a big deal.”

“If you mind me throwing in my humble opinion as someone who actually pays attention to how Kiara acts around the group,” Parker said, “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to hook up with either of you. “

“Oh, ‘cause you’re such a ladie’s man or what?” JJ groaned and shot him an incredulous look. Parker just shrugged and nodded towards the door John B just stopped in front of.

“Is that us? Twenty-nine?”

He nodded, and JJ walked up to it to knock in a funny tune. “Housekeeping!” He called in a high-pitched voice.

When no answer came, he went to knock on the window.

“Should we try it?” John B wondered, and Parker shrugged.

“No power, no security cameras.”

Inside the room it was quite dark, and JJ and John B went right to search through the stuff while Parker made sure to keep his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Oye, stop leaving your fingerprints everywhere, you amateurs.” He chided and earned an irritated look from JJ. He grimaced back and kept looking around with just his eyes.

“Definitely over fifty, he’s got new balances.” John B concluded after fishing a shoe out of the bag on the bed while Parker took a look at the map laid out on the bedside table. JJ walked up to him a threw a glance over his shoulder.

“Maybe that’s where they were fishing.” He wondered and let his finger brush over the page. “Right there.”

But when John B followed his finger, he said: “Nah, that’s off the continental shelf. That’s Big Swell. Nobody fishes there.”

Parker kept roaming the room and motioned towards a coffee maker. “Coffee?”

“Standard.” JJ said, illuminating the machine with a torch light. “Tissues, for when you get lonely.” He teased and proceeded into the bathroom. “Uh!”

“Find anything?” John B asked and opened the cupboard with the safe in it.

“Just a really awesome Dopp kit you won’t let me steal.” JJ said, taking a container of deodorant out of it anyways and sliding it into the pocket of his pants. Parker raised a brow but said nothing.

“Yeah, ‘cause we’re not stealing shit.” John B muttered and started punching in random combinations, which JJ mocked.

Getting an idea, Parker walked back towards the bedside table, where a crumpled piece of paper lay. “Hey, try 6-1-6-6-6.”

“I don’t know.” JJ mumbled and bent over the map again while John B tried the code. “I don’t know about the second one. These coordinates, they- Wait! My cousin said you could catch swordfish there.”

“Nah, that wouldn’t make any sense.” Parker interrupted.

“What about a surf spot, then? That could possibly be it.” He looked at Parker questioningly, but he only shrugged, not really knowing anything about the sea or surfing. “Or shoals… Have you heard of shoals?” But Parker wasn’t paying attention to JJ anymore. Instead, he was watching John B take open the safe and take out a wad of cash.

“Uh, guys? I think you might wanna see this?” He said, and the two of them approached him. Before Parker could even say a word, JJ had already taken out the gun. Wide eyed he stared at it, trying not to think about the last time he had seen one up close. Pictures of a red stain growing larger on his best friend’s T-Shirt shot through his mind.

“Dude, dude, dude, dude.” JJ said, cocking it back, while John B panicked: “You grabbed the gun.”

“Put the gun back, JJ.” Parker growled, feeling sick to the stomach.

But JJ didn’t listen. He looked like a little boy on Christmas eve. “This is a SIG Sauer! This is a fucking spendy gatt, man! Just…Bam! Bam!” And acted as if he was shooting it.

“You’re sick, dude. You’re just sick.” Parker mumbled, trying to get some distance.

“Hey, think about it!” John B reasoned, side eyeing Parkers pale face. “We are not stealing anything.”

“Just take a pic of me, alright. Right here.” JJ blubbered and posed like some guy from an action movie. Parker wanted to punch him in the face. Did he not know that guns were fucking serious business?

“Really, dude? And create our own incriminating evidence? Is that what you’re talking about?” John B snapped and JJ finally lowered the SIG Sauer.

That’s when Parker heard tapping on the window and went to investigate, pushing roughly past JJ, who protested. “Hey, did you hear that?”, he asked and slipped his head under the blinds.

Outside, Kiara and Pope were jumping around and mouthing the word Cops. Parker’s blood froze in his veins. “The cops are here.” He started tearing up the blinds while John B jumped onto the bed to look out the window next to the door.

“He’s right.”

“Kildare County Sheriff’s Department.” A muffled voice came from outside and Parker ushered JJ and John B out on the front roof, throwing a quick look at it and estimating the height. Just in time he managed to jump out the window and effortlessly slide off the roof, causing Kiara and Pope to almost suffer heart attacks while watching, and John B to clap his hand in front of his mouth to muffle his panicked scream. JJ’s eyes widened in shock, and he made a mental note to beat the shit out of Parker the moment he saw him walk towards the boat alive and unharmed.

“What the fuck was that?” Kiara whisper-yelled while Pope still clutched a hand over his chest.

“Ever heard of free running?” Parker shrugged nonchalantly and looked up towards the two boys still on the roof. JJ flipped him off and he sent him an air kiss.

“What are you guys doing?” Pope mouthed towards them and waved his hands while Kiara buried her face in her hands and moaned “Oh my god.”

Parker just chuckled and got comfortable on the point of the boat like he had been before and watched the scenery unfold like in a movie. While peeking in through the blinds, JJ seemed to see something he didn’t like and started to gesticulate with his hands. That’s when he accidentally shoved the gun out of his pocket, that fell down with a loud clatter. Parker threw his head back and groaned.

Suddenly, the blinds went up, and Pope and Kiara quickly turned away while Parker just closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

Soon after, the cops left, and the two boys joined their friends on the boat.

“Could have warned us a little sooner.” John B complained and Kiara shrugged.

“We would have, except Pope was on the maths team.”

Parker chuckled when Pope ignored his friend’s comments and said that the cops had taken everything in like a crime scene and asked if they’d found anything.

JJ sat up straighter. “Did we find anything? No, I don’t think so. Oh yeah, we did.” He held up the gun and a wad of cash.

“You took the fucking gun? Are you fucking insane, you damn nutjob?” Parker snapped and JJ glowered at him.

“What the fuck?” Pope exclaimed. “Why would you take that from a crime scene?”

“Are you serious?” Kiara asked John B sternly, disappointment in her voice. His proud smile started to fade.

“I’m gonna lose my merit scholarship.” Pope said and ruffled his hair.

JJ tried to comfort him. “Sh, sh, sh. At least you have us, right?”

“That’s literally the worst possible scenario.” Parker grumbled and JJ shot him an irritated look.

“What’s your damn problem, man?”

“My damn problem, JJ, is, that you stole a fucking gun! Have you ever even held one before? That’s not a toy, but you’re handling it like one.” He snapped.

“Oh, but you have, Mr Perfect? And what was that stunt you pulled on the roof anyway? Telling me I’m insane – Hypocritical much, don’t you think?” JJ waved the gun around angrily to underline his words and Parker narrowed his eyes.

“As a matter of fact, I have. I have held one, I have shot one, and I have been shot at with one. And I jumped off the roof because it’s what I’ve been doing since seventh grade.” He growled and only realized his mistake when everyone looked at him open-mouthed.

“You’ve been shot at?” John B asked. Parker waved a hand dismissively.

“Never mind. Just get that thing out of my sight.” He mumbled and went to let his feet dangle off the back of the boat as a sign that he no longer wanted to talk to them. When they reached the harbour, he was the first off the boat saying he wanted to take a walk towards the Château to clear his head a little.

 Parker was chilling on one of the couches on John B’s front porch when the others came, Pope rambling disturbed. “Okay. So, uhm, we didn’t see anything. We don’t know anything. We need to have complete and total amnesia.”

“What’s going on?” He groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. They had been back earlier than he would have liked.

“They found Scooter Grubbs dead in the marsh, near the boat.” Kiara explained.

“Am I supposed to know the guy?” Parker asked but was interrupted by JJ agreeing with Pope and Kiara telling him that not passing the money off to Lana Grubbs would be bad Karma. She sat down by Parker’s feet and he lazily raised them for her to get a more comfortable position. Then he laid them on her lap.

“Bad Karma to be implicated in a felony too.” Pope muttered, and JJ only agreed if it meant for them to keep the money. John B tapped his shoulder and said he didn’t agree.

“What? Why?”

“Just think about it. This is Scooter Grubbs we’re talking about. Same dude that’s buying individual cigarettes at the Porthole. Shit, one time I saw this dude begging for change in the Save-A-Lot parking lot because he needed gas. We’re talking about a dirtbag marina rat who’s never had more than 40 bucks in his pocket, and all of a sudden he’s got a Grady White? Just sayin’.” He rambled and Parker finally took the arm off his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m out.” He said, earning a condescending look from JJ.

“Yeah, of course you are, chicken.”

“Maybe I am. But if that guy is just half the rat John B just described, how do you think he got so much money?” Parker shot back and looked at the others too.

“Prostitution.” Pope guessed.

“Square Groupers, bro.” John B said. “They were straight smugglin’.”

“Exactly. Square Groupers means whatever is on that ship is contraband. Contraband that belongs to somebody. I’ve had my fair share of gangsters in life, how about you?”

 In the end, John B and JJ could convince Parker and Pope to do it. And to lay low for a while, Kiara suggested a Kegger.

[dragimal]

ok I’m about to start watching Demon Slayer, and I had some preconceptions about the sister character (Nezuko?) from the art I’ve seen around, that my dear friend has told me is NOT the case for her, unfortunately. so I’m gonna lay out the random, disconnected ideas for my “Nezuko Is A Character Now” au before I get disappointed by how she is in the show. DS fans, have fun roasting me for my completely off takes:

first off, I’m visually imagining her as this redesign b/c it fucks so hard, so jot that down

I imagine Nezuko as a chill, confident character. most things just roll off her back and doesn’t stress too much about things. especially given her situation, she’s not too concerned abt being possessed-- she trusts that the group will reach their goal and undo the demon curse

she’s a card shark. idk why, it just seems like a fun character trait, and also useful if they need to get info from somebody. I also have a delightful image in my head of the boys all having a discussion in the foreground, and Nezuko is in the bg doing card tricks for a gaggle of enchanted girls (insert “I know the affect I have on women” meme)

demons got a universal translator gene I guess. either way, demons understand all languages, so Nezuko can as well, and translates to her bro via sign

I figure Nezuko and her bro already knew sign language before she was gagged b/c she naturally went nonverbal sometimes. so it wasn’t a huge adjustment to switch to full sign language or writing, and Nezuko isn’t TOO bothered abt being gagged, she just gets achey jaws now

does she still need to eat? maybe the gag has a hole in it with a cork that she can just. pour blended food into lmao

speaking of the gag, I ASSUME that it is actually blessed in the show, in order to hold back the demon. idk how demons work in the show, but I’m imagining that when the gag is removed, she turns into a huge hulking beast form that feeds on violence, pain, and fear. the gag holds back most of those impulses so that she’s mostly herself. the only time the demon side slightly takes over (while the gag is on) is when she smells/sees blood-- she’ll totally zone out and zero in on the source of blood. I imagine the demon side would want desperately to get the blood INTO her mouth, so she’ll just snuffle and growl and rub her face/gag up against a person’s wound, trying to get a taste of the blood, but it’s just gross and unsettling. she snaps out of it once the blood is cleared away and the wound is treated. she might also have similar reactions to pain/fear in others? also I imagine this reaction gets easier to control over time, but definitely at first she completely zonks out

so I have this strong impression of a scene in my head where like, the gang is trapped with the toughest demon yet, they’re backed into a corner, no escape or other options. they have no other choice, Nezuko demands he bro removes the gag so she can fight the demon herself. she trusts he’ll do what he needs to do to bring her back. so he removes the gag, this is the first time we hear her voice, and the only thing she says is, “brother..... run.” and her body snaps into a massive form, and her voice shifts into something deep and inhuman as she roars and charges out of their hiding spot straight into the other demon. absolutely brutal fight-- biting, gashing, limb-tearing. I figure once the fight is over, Nezuko is holding herself back by the barest thread of her remaining humanity as her bro approaches with the gag again. maybe she snaps at him a few times, but he’s able to safely replace it

and then AFTER that fight, Nezuko is.... quiet. timid. she flinches from others and holds herself back from the group. her bro (gently) confronts her abt it, and she admits that it’s the first time she’s been really scared about her situation. before, she could draw the line between the demon and herself, and she could see the clear road ahead for how to remove the demon. she knew she’d be herself again, eventually. but during that fight, it wasn’t just the demon controlling her body... she felt what the demon felt. she wasn’t just a passenger to the torment-- she reveled in the pain and fear she caused in the other demon as she tore it apart. what if the demon is a part of her, now? what if, when the demon is removed, she’s still different-- she’s not Nezuko anymore? she’s terrified she doesn’t know herself anymore, and that this new version of herself will only hurt those around her. her bro will point out that she allowed herself to be gagged again after that fight, that she’s never hurt him or anyone else. that she’s still the funny, talented, annoying sister he’s always known. it wouldn’t immediately switch her back to normal, and she’d deny some of that, but I think she’d start feeling a lil better abt it all, after that conversation

[fandomn00blr]

for the writers asks: 1 (I just wanna hear you talk about Morrigan, mkay?), 2, 7, 16 and 17, and 38!

1. What’s your favorite character(s) to write for? 

I know I already answered this here, but I will not turn down a request to talk more about Morrigan! ❤️

Where to even begin, tho? I played DAI first (of course), so I was just kinda “meh” on her character. I mean...she’s hot, right?...and I love a smart goth lady who knows what she wants and has little patience for the rest of us. There was just so much else going on in that game, and I hadn’t really figured out the whole Flemythal thing.

It wasn’t until my second playthrough of DAO, after DA2, on the tenth anniversary of the game, when I was playing an Amell romancing Leliana that I really fell in love with Morrigan and her story and her whole...deal. I try not to take any of that edge or prickliness away from her, because I think people develop these ways of interacting with others for reasons (which I, of course, love to explore in my writing). And also, she’s really funny! Even Alistair has to admit that (before he realizes he, too, is in love with her ten years later). I eventually got impatient writing my “definitive” playthrough fic for my Amell and just skipped ahead to post-game, Morrigan having just given birth and Alistair being a mess about it, and that’s how Kieran happened...lol.

I always hated the whole “oh, being a mother softened you” shit they tried to pull with her (if she has Kieran with her) in Inquisition. First of all, children aren’t just plot devices for making us ‘better’ or more complete people or whatever. I mean...this witch knows how to turn into a fucking bear and her kid, in my world state anyway, has the soul of an Old God! So, like...I forgot my point. But grrrrr (personal baggage activated)! Still, in spite of that, and in spite of the less-than-ideal example of motherhood she got from Flemeth, she is a good mom, and I wanted to show that she could be without some kind of huge fundamental shift in who she was or whatever some people think she needs to be palatable (these are theoretical people I’ve never actually met that I am fighting in my head, mind you...).

Another thing I love about writing her is that she’s smarter than me. I write a lot of chaotic dumbasses. But Morrigan knows more than I do, and she’s very savvy (I am not), and that’s a really fun challenge to work with. I’d be lying if I didn’t also take just as much delight in occasionally revealing to her where her own blindspots are, but to be honest, even then, she usually surprises me.

2. What character(s) do you find the most difficult to write for? Why?

So my previous answer was Jadzia Dax, but I’ll go ahead and add Anders Dragon Age here, too. I love the guy. I love writing about him. I love writing other people thinking about him. But writing as him is really hard for me (and yet I still try)!

I recently played a monster hunter TTRPG with some friends in which I played a sort of Anders-like character just to be Like That (“you’re just playing yourself!” they cried, and let’s not think too much about that). I thought it’d be easy, but it was not (I mean, I still ended up with the grumpy broody character in the end, but... 😉).

7. What story/headcanons do you feel the proudest of?

I still love my currently-sort-of-on-hiatus Lost and Found series, and that’s probably because I realized Fenris is writing the whole damn thing (with some input from a few others along the way). I am proud of that little conceit, even if it hasn’t really come into play yet (the big reveal is like, 40 years away in the timeline!) in what has actually been published. The whole series is a sort of break-it-then-fix-it for the events of endgame DA2 and I just...kept running with it.

16. What fanfic tropes do you avoid writing for?

lol...avoid? Me?! Not very many. I like to play with tropes, combine them, embrace them, twist them, turn them inside out and upside down...but I also don’t mind just writing a straightforward trope-filled drabble when the mood strikes (give me bed-sharing and enemies-to-lovers in a soulmate coffeeshop AU and I will WRITE THAT SHIT!).

Ok, fine, so you probably won’t see me writing any A/B/O fics anytime soon (doesn’t mean I won’t read it!). And I tend to avoid things that glorify abuse of any kind, sexual violence, and/or rape/non-con.

17. What fanfic tropes do you gravitate to writing for? 

I write a lot of fluffy found family and parent fic, because a lot of my favorite characters are just assholes trying their best to not fuck up their relationships or their kids. I’m sorry. I promise I try to keep it spicy, and maybe sometimes a little bit too realistic for some people. I wouldn’t call any of my writing ‘dark’ or disturbing, but there are a lot of underlying anxieties to it I think that make some people uncomfortable. But this is cheaper than therapy, soooo...

38. What story of yours are you surprised that people liked as much as they did? 

My only non-DA story...lol, a Seven Deadly Sins (anime) fic, called Walls Tumbling Down, focused on Jericho and her time with Ban and King between some major events in the show (see, even talking about it like this makes me giggle nervously because these are not characters I have ever engaged in discourse about!). I’m not part of the fandom, so I really had very little to go by other than my frustration with how the character was treated in the source material (in this case, just the show, because I never even read the manga!). But it was one of the first pieces of fan fic I ever sat down and started to write and share. It’s also my most popular fic to date on AO3 (I should probably take a hint, huh?). This was probably supposed to be my lesson in the differences between fandoms and audience reception, wasn’t it?

[zipegs]

i’ve been toying around with the idea of posting a fic rec list for a while, and finally decided that if i do, it might be nice to focus on newer and/or underrated fics in the fandom! some of my absolute favorites are on this list, and i highly suggest checking them out (and leaving the lovely authors some comments and kudos!)

this got pretty long, but it’s organized alphabetically by ship name (including gen) and then by length inside each ship!

blanky/little

Trysails by saltstreets  /  2k, t

“I know I can’t do much,” Blanky said, “but you can always talk to me. If you’re so inclined.”

A (very late!) offering for Tender Tuesday, "a friend in need".

okay!!!!!! okay!!!!! hear me out on this one!! this fic is wonderful. i’m a sucker for fics dealing with edward’s suffering during the worst of crozier’s captaincy, and this one is so good. blanky is so wonderful in this; i feel like his tender, kind side frequently gets overlooked in favor of his bigger, bolder attributes, and this fic truly delivers on everything i’ve been missing! it’s really gentle and sweet and i urge you to give it a read!!!!

bridglar

in the low lamplight by stelleri  /  338, g

It’s endless freezing rain outside, but the house is comfortably warm.

short and sweet! a really lovely little slice-of-life modern au

state of grace by aes3plex  /  860, m

He doesn’t mean to see it. He never does.

bridglar may be the most featured pairing, but this is told from irving’s pov and also contains irving/little and references to hickey/gibson. really sad, conflicted little peek into irving’s mind (and some nice, soft bridglar as well!)

passer iagoensis by greenery  /  3k, g

Night falls on the Beagle and Henry Peglar has just finished reading his very first novel.

Set in 1832.

this piece is so good!! it has some really beautiful (sad) foreshadowing of the franklin expedition, and is just... so soft, with some wonderful romantic tension!! and it’s funny! darwin and fitzroy are wonderful in this, and i’m always here for fic that deals with peglar learning to read (which this does!!!).

cracroft/crozier

the beggar’s opera by pyotr  /  990, e

for all of his usual anger and surliness it was almost fun to fluster francis, to rile him where he could not retaliate. sophia had spent all her life under the thumb of some man or another; she loved francis in part because she always had the upper hand.

sophia is my queen and that’s all i’ll say about that. seriously though, this piece is just... *chef’s kiss*

fitzconte

A Cheetah Never Changes His Spots by onstraysod  /  1.2k, m

Being the particular friend of James Fitzjames has its drawbacks, as Henry Le Vesconte learns during the expedition's first carnivale. But it also has its advantages, as Henry learns once the carnivale is over.

Written for Day 1 (A Special Disguise) of the 12 Days of Carnivale.

on beechey island, fitzjames reveals clio’s cheetah to the men. or... something like it! this piece is really a blast; fitzjames is in rare form, francis is glaring form the sidelines, and le vesconte is an absolute champ. and the ending is wonderfully witty and racy!

fitzier

wake me up, wake me up my darling by norvegiae  /  1.4k, g  /  mcd

James Fitzjames feels like a new man.

The old James Fitzjames lies on the cot in front of him, cradled by the man he wishes he could have had more time with.

set during 1.09, this fic is a really poignant, heartwrenching piece in which james comes to terms with the reality of his death, and of his life, as he watches francis grieve. very sad, and wonderfully written!

what the stars give us by WetSammyWinchester  /  1.7k, t  /  implied death

"They may know space, James, but you know what it means to truly fly."

70s scifi (space program!!!) au. really great translation of the terror; the mood in this is so good!!! and the little flashbacks are fantastic. it’s pretty sad, but it hurts in a good way.

fitzrossier

Take Your Turn, Take A Ride by courfairyac  /  7.5k, e

Francis agrees to accompany his friend to a masquerade, and stumbles onto something quite unexpected.

In short: Festivities! Voyeurism! James in a dress!

listen... fitzrossier is my new weakness, and this is a really fun, hot, canon-universe (pre-expedition) au.

gen

salvation by scribomania  /  250, t

The Concordia brings them survival, but not salvation.

featuring hodgson and little, and jopson. for a survival au, this little piece hurts!!! it’s so short, but it packs a punch. really, really good.

but no one remembers yet by disastermovie  / 885, t

“From the mutilated state of many of the corpses and the contents of the kettles, it is evident that our wretched countrymen had been driven to the last resource—cannibalism—as a means of prolonging existence.”

—excerpt from Dr. John Rae’s report on the fate of the Franklin Expedition to the Secretary of the Admiralty (written from Repulse Bay on July 29, 1854)

sad little epilogue concerning sophia and lady jane dealing with their grief

the weary world rejoices by disastermovie  /  1.3k, t

Fitzjames goes to his first Christmas party after the survivors are rescued. It doesn't go well.

this!!!! fic!!! i can’t even do it justice, it’s just so good. the slow build of james’s panic, the caroling and gaiety as a backdrop... it’s just so painful in the best way. i’m incoherent; pls just read it,

la belle dame sans merci by drowninglovers  /  1.7k, g

Nobody is quite sure who the first one to start making her clothing is, but one day she scampers over the shoulders of the ABs as they line up for lunch wearing a tiny shirt to match her pants. It’s nothing special, no fancy detail, navy blue like most everything else they wear. Whoever made it must have cared a great deal, to make sure it fit her perfectly.

this is incredibly fun!!! just some good, wholesome fic about boys dressing up their favorite lady. 10000/10 would recommend.

Come Here, Fellow Servant by whipstitch  /  1.9k, t

The sea is dangerous, but so too is the open sky. And in that case, Cornelius determines, a friend is an unexpected boon.

okay, i made a rule that i wasn’t going to include wips on this rec list,  but i had to put this guy on here. it could be read as a stand-alone, actually, which is what i used to convince myself to include it. peglar realizes that hickey has no fucking idea what he’s doing, and tries to help him, kind, caring sweetheart that he is. this is a really, really nice little piece—i love everything about it.

lie alone by greenery  /  2k, g

He turns the page. And maybe this is it. Maybe writing a letter to young Tom Hartnell is reason enough to leave the berth.

really nice oneshot featuring two good boys (hodgson & hartnell) and their wholesome status as pen pals

the crooked kind by darrenjolras  /  2.3k, m  /  non-consensual voyeurism

“You and I, Jopson,” Hickey says, and Jopson startles at those words alone, turns an affronted gaze his way. Hickey bathes in the glacial blue of it. Like being thrown overboard. “You and I aren’t so different, you know.”

Based on that Hickey/Jopson scene. You know the one.

the terror bingo fill: court martial

not totally gen, but also not really hickey/jopson? twisted, but very much in character; hickey is his delightful self in this, and his verbal sparring with jopson is very well done and quite fun to read!

gibson/hickey

Touch Her Not Scornfully by skazka  /  2k, e

Stolen moments down below.

this fic is just... really fucking good!!! it’s a fantastic look at the very early days of gibson & hickey’s relationship, and an intriguing little venture into billy’s head.

goodsir/mcdonald

And That is How it Starts by Intrepid_Inkweaver  /  1.2k, g

It starts with a handshake and a warm smile at their introduction at Greenhithe.

a really sweet, lovely canon-divergent piece. written in 2nd person pov. these two are just such a good, wholesome pairing and this fic really does them justice!!

hartving

let loss reveal it by disastermovie  /  1.6k, t  /  mcd

Tom could never quite see himself taking a wife.

this shit fucking hurts!!!!!!! it’s a beautiful glimpse at irving & hartnell’s relationship, told through hartnell’s introspection, and is written really, really well. also did i mention that it fucking hurts???

Lookout Blues by ClockworkCourier  /  2.1k, g

John and Tom Hartnell talk about the future while they wait on a new shipment.

hello??? 1920s au??????? the world-building is so tangible in this, even in such a relatively short piece. it’s a really lovely little conversation between the brothers, and i absolutely loved their little discussion of irving.

we’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet by drowninglovers  /  6.3k, g

If this is to be the last time they interact (and it likely will), Tom wants it to be memorable.

survival au survival au!! tartnell runs into irving at john’s grave, and convinces him to stay with his family until new year’s. it’s kind of bittersweet, with some really great flashbacks (and discussions of said scenes!), and oh man is it soft!! just! really beautiful and tender, and the ending is just so cute!!!!!

hodgson/hickey

the chaos moves by itself by bluebacchus  /  1.3k, e  /  violence, mcd

Hodgson's mind cracks and the heavens flow in.

(Written for Day 7 of Halloween TerrorFest: A disquieting metamorphosis and posted separately because I don't want to taint my main post with borderline vore)

fair warning... this fic is fucked up, but in the best possible way! the religious imagery!!!! the philosophy!!!! just!! god.

hodgson/little

Allegro, B Flat Major by whalersandsailors  /  5.3k, g

George is freshly moved from his childhood home, ready to tackle the school year and his newfound independence all at once.

Too bad he's lonely, miserable, and homesick.

He turns to music when adulthood becomes unbearable, and when someone knocks at his door and leaves an anonymous note, George discovers another music lover not too far away.

have i mentioned i love george hodgson? because i love george hodgson. this fic is a beautiful modern au featuring our own georgie playing his way through his feelings (literally). the buildup to the reveal of george’s secret admirer is wonderful, and had me rooting for them from the start! really sweet, stunning fic for a pairing i’d never considered before!

joplittle

get out of the wind by Cicadaemon  /  1.6k, e

Edward Little is smitten with a certain bartender.

modern au. really lovely, wholesome, and happy; just what these boys deserve!

The Thylacine by Gigi_Sinclair  / 1.7k, t 

"Thylacines. That's what Sophia called them, all those years ago in Van Diemen's Land. Dogs with tiger stripes, cats with pouches. They stretch their jaws at him, as Francis struggles to sit. The movement makes his head spin. He pushes the discomfort aside. He has no time to entertain it; he must escape."

also features cracroft/crozier. this is a really clever, funny piece set during francis’s withdrawal; poor francis is a bit muddled in the throes of his fever, and gets caught up in a memory from van diemen’s land. i absolutely loved little and jopson’s reactions in this, and especially jopson and crozier’s conversation the next morning.

Prelude in D Major by scribomania  /  2.7k, t

Hodgson is very fond of the musical apparatus in Terror's great cabin; Edward is not.

For the Terror Bingo square "denial".

i’m a big big lover of terror lieutenant nonsense, and this fic absolutely delivers! just absolutely delightful.

When the Lights Go On Again by Gigi_Sinclair  /  4.1k, t

"Edward Little's ancestors were Naval officers, almost to a man. Nevertheless, from a young age, Edward's eyes turned to the sky rather than the sea.

He longed to fly, as high and as frequently as possible. In the Royal Air Force, he got his wish. He was happy there, thriving, rising in the ranks apace and doing what he always wanted to do. Then came the first of September, 1939."

wwii au. edward is a squadron leader in the royal air force, and jopson is a corporal working for group captain crozier. i’m weak for wwi and wwii aus to begin with, and this one is done beautifully. while it doesn’t hand-wave the trauma and heartbreak of war, it doesn’t hit you over the head with it either, and the result is a really soft, bittersweet, hopeful piece.

lozer

a lily for my love by whalersandsailors  /  3.7k, m

Solomon never thought that soul-signs were real, and the stories he heard about them made soulmates sound more like a prison sentence than any fairy tale romance. It is not until he finds a soul-sign on the skin of a very dear friend that he realizes their importance, as well as their undoing.

this piece is!!! beautiful!!! very poignant, and really had me feeling for solomon. i love what’s been done with the soulmark conceit—it’s not just a simple “we have soulmarks, we’re soulmates!!!’ au (which i’ll admit to enjoying too), but a really thoughtful take on the trope. the slow way tozer puzzles everything out is wonderful, and i love the glimpses we get into several of his friendships & relationships. 

morfin/weekes

to help you remember by whalersandsailors  /  1.2k, g

An anniversary, during which Weekes presents Morfin with a gift, and Morfin struggles to remember why.

do you ever just get clotheslined by a pairing you’d never even considered before? because that’s what this fic did to me

[megashadowdragon]

Theory: Dabi is literally Frankenstein’s Monster, both in his appearance and origin story

/www . reddit . com/r/BokuNoHeroAcademia/comments/coy27z/theory_dabi_is_literally_frankensteins_monster/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x

I previously discussed my thoughts on Dabi’s character, IF he indeed is Touya Todoroki (this has NOT been confirmed!), being based on Frankenstein’s Monster a few months back on a post by _Hireath_. I’d thought that I’d post it again here and further expand the discussion and see what other people think of the comparisons.

I believe that not only does Horikoshi draw inspiration for Dabi’s appearance from pop cultural depictions of The Monster but his origin story also parallels the themes of the novel.

Endeavor/Enji Todoroki = Victor Frankenstein

Dabi/Touya Todoroki = The creature (Frankenstein's monster)

APPEARANCE

The Monster's appearance varies in popular culture, but he is often portrayed as having a body that appears to be stitched together and seen wearing dark, tattered clothes with heavy boots. When we’re first introduced to Dabi, his clothes are tattered. His clothes later change with the addition of boots and metal-like arm bracers, which could be homage to the bolts in the Monster’s neck

And as u/_Hireath_ pointed out, in Chapter 191 we see Dabi do a pose that is pretty much the exact same as Boris Karloff’s portrayal of the Monster, who played him in the 1930s Universal Picture films.

Dabi’s pose versus Boris Karloff’s pose

NOVEL THEMES

First let’s look at the name of the novel in question, Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus.

For those who don’t know, Prometheus is the Titan/Culture Hero who created humans from clay and gave them fire. Right off the bat, we see the parallels between the Flame Hero Endeavor and Victor Frankenstein/Prometheus.

The BritLit blog has good analyses on some of the themes in Frankenstein, some examples are:

Sins of the father

Loss of innocence

Dichotomy of fire

Responsibility and culpability

Society and isolation

Revenge

1. SINS OF THE FATHER

Vitanza, D. (2018 September 5). Sins of the Father [blog post]. BritLit: Frankenstein. . Retrieved from blogs . baylor . edu/britlit/2018/09/05/sins-of-the-father/

Victor’s lifelong pursuit to create his creature filled him with purpose and drove a series of feverish attempts to fulfill his dream. There is never mention of why he has chosen to do this other than for self-serving reasons.

We see Endeavor's ambition and fallibility in "creating" his children.

Endeavor (speaking to All Might): "I'll mold him (Shoto) into a Hero who surpasses you. That's the only reason I created that kid." (Ch 31)

Shoto (speaking to Midoriya): "My dad... he's a powerful bastard who only thinks of becoming stronger. Yeah, he's gone all out to make a name for himself as a Hero but he's always seen that living legend, All Might, as a roadblock and an eyesore. My father could never beat All Might on his own. So he came up with another plan... Raising me as a Hero who could exceed All Might, just to fulfill his own ambitions." (Ch 31)

Once the fruits of his labor are realized, he immediately becomes the prototypical absent father. The ultimate sin of the father is irresponsibility and selfishness.

Endeavor was an absent father to Touya, Fuyumi, and Natsuo because they were seen as “failures”. The three older children were raised separately from Shoto.

Endeavor (talking about Touya & Natsuo): "Don't look at them, Shoto. Your brothers... they belong to a different world than you." (Ch 39)

Natsuo (talking about Endeavor): "I don't remember him well. At this point, he basically feels like a complete stranger." (Ch 187)

Natsuo (talking to Endeavor):"'Say it'...? That's rich, coming from the guy who wouldn't even look me in the eye for all these years. You've got some nerve, you know that? It's funny, I had no idea soba was Shoto's favourite food until today. You took special care to never let us, your "failures" into his life after all. You completely neglected us, and left us to listen to mom screaming and Shoto crying.” (Ch 192)

Possible Predictions?

The creature’s construction is not the genesis of his evil, it is Victor’s failure to fulfill his duty as a father.

Victor only dabbles in acknowledgement of his fatal flaw. It isn’t until he is near-death that he finally acknowledges that he is ultimately responsible for all the death that resulted in his creation.

Will Endeavor end up the same way as Victor Frankenstein? Acknowledging when he’s on his deathbed that Dabi/Touya is the way that he is because he failed as a father and that he is ultimately responsible for his actions?

2. LOSS OF INNOCENCE

Castillo, B. (2018 September 5). “I Ought to be Thy Adam”: The Theme of Lost Innocence in Frankenstein’s “Monster” [blog post]. BritLit: Frankenstein. Retrieved from blogs . baylor . edu/britlit/2018/09/05/i-ought-to-be-thy-adam-the-theme-of-lost-innocence-in-frankensteins-monster/

When I think of innocence, the first group of people that come to mind are children. Children come into this world knowing nothing, and the way they view the world is heavily influenced by their early experiences, their education, and the culture they live in.

We see this loss of innocence in the Todoroki children due to Endeavor's intense training and abuse of their mother.

In a flashback in Chapter 39, we see Endeavor training a young Shoto to the point that he's in tears and vomiting on the floor with Rei trying to intervene:

Endeavor (to Shoto): "Get up. You won't even be able to defeat third-rate villains, let alone All Might, if you get knocked down by a hit like that...

Rei (to Endeavor): "Stop it, please! He's only five years old..."

Endeavor (to Rei): "Yes, he's already five! So get out of my way!" (slaps Rei)

The creature’s moral decline parallels that of Adam and Eve’s eating from the fruit of the tree. As he gained knowledge about humanity, there was no turning back. While I find the creature’s decisions to be questionable, I feel they bring a few questions to mind: If the creature had been given the same opportunity to develop the way a healthy child would, how might the story be different? Although we would deem the creature’s actions as monstrous in nature, can we hold this “monster” completely accountable for his actions?

When Giran introduces Dabi to the League of Villains, he “has no outstanding criminal record to speak of”. He wanted to join the League because he wanted to make the Hero Killer Stain’s will a reality. After he joins he begins committing murder - there’s no turning back. But if he was given the same opportunity, say as Shoto, would his story be different?

3. DICHOTOMY OF FIRE

Strong, T. (2016 September 26). Lightning and Fire [blog post]. BritLit: Frankenstein. blogs . baylor . edu/britlit/2016/09/26/lightning-and-fire/

The monster and Victor both have first memories in the natural world that shape them quite profoundly – Victor has his lightning storm, with the complete destruction of a tree, and the monster has his fire, which warms him while it destroys and burns.

The monster’s fire is a different matter, though it affects him similarly. He came upon his first fire during his wandering days, when he was discovering his senses and vulnerabilities. He came upon a fire “which had been left” by humans (Vol. II, Ch. III), so a human tool left in nature. He was “overcome with delight” and joy, but touching it brought him pain. “How strange, [he thinks], that the same cause could produce such opposite effects!” He has learned the dichotomy of flame – to save and to hurt.

Endeavor's flames save (he is a Pro Hero, after all) whereas Dabi's flames hurt, both himself and others.

Dabi (talking to a group of unnamed villains): "Don't need... types like you... begone. I guess trash like you is... good fuel for my fire." (Ch 115)

Higawara (to Dabi): "All those burnt corpses that've turning up here and there lately..." (Ch 160)

Dabi (referring to Higawara): "Looks like only his top half can turn to sand. He's probably dead." (Ch 160)

Geten (to Dabi): "You're the one who'll be dying here, wielder of blue flames. Your body has been reeking of burnt flesh for a while now." (Ch 230)

Geten (to Dabi): "Judging by that peeling, burnt skin or yours... you can't fight for very long, can you? Your body can't stand your own flames." (Ch 230)

4. RESPONSIBILITY AND CULPABILITY

Rima, L. (2018 September 5). On the topic of responsibility and culpability [blog post]. BritLit: Frankenstein. blogs . baylor . edu/britlit/2018/09/05/on-the-topic-of-responsibility-and-culpability/

The topic of responsibility can be a difficult one to explore, because “responsibility” may heavily affect the view of one’s culpability for his or her actions – despite responsibility, one may be condemned or condoned. How deeply, therefore, must we take into account context and history when determining a sense of “blame” for these characters? Does an abusive childhood at all excuse, or at least contextualize, a serial killer’s actions? Does it lessen the blow of the gavel, and by extension, the punishment? If so – just how harshly should a reader judge the monster and his violent actions, and Victor Frankenstein for creating him?

Looking at their relationship in a family perspective, Victor holds as much responsibility for his creation as a parent does his child. This creature is a blank slate, confused and ignorant just as a newborn, and Victor plays the stereotypical role of absent father immediately by running away, “unable to endure the aspect of the being [he] created, [rushing] out of the room” (84). This instantaneous rejection is certainly not lost on the creature, who will be experiencing this rejection for the rest of his life. It is, after all, what spurns the creature into exacting revenge upon Victor. In this way, Victor is directly responsible for the creation of the monster – of course – as well as the monster’s desire for violence towards the Frankenstein family and friends. Responsibility for this creature, however, is not culpability for this creature’s actions. Frankenstein’s monster has the gift of free will, which means that ultimately, his actions are his own and therefore he himself is responsible for them. This son’s sins cannot be solely blamed on the father! Those in connection to Victor, after all, are not the only ones who receive the monster’s wrath.

Endeavor is responsible for creating Dabi/Touya but is he culpable for his crimes? How harshly should the audience judge Dabi for his actions? How harshly should we judge Endeavor?

5. HOW MIGHT DABI’S STORY END?

So, if Dabi/Touya is based on Frankenstein's Monster, how might his story end?

Well, in the novel, after Frankenstein dies, the Creature jumps off the boat in the arctic to go kill himself and is never seen again. Hopefully that doesn’t happen. A more interesting take is a potential, what could have been, redemption.

(Captain Robert) Walton’s Responsibility to Frankenstein’s Monster

Adams, D. (2016 September 26). Walton’s Responsibility to Frankenstein’s Monster [blog post]. BritLit: Frankenstein. blogs . baylor . edu/britlit/2016/09/26/waltons-responsibility-to-the-monster/

In Frankenstein, Mary Shelley’s critique of the criminal justice system’s consistency, her critique of retributive justice, and the death of Victor leave Walton with the responsibility to deliver justice to the monster. He is responsible for counseling the monster and restoring him to human society.

However, Walton is not responsible for killing or exiling the monster. The retributive system of punishment (matching punishment to crime) only results in more death and pointless suffering. Shelley emphasizes this through the monster’s murder of William, Elizabeth and Henry as he tries to retributively serve justice to Victor. Yet the monster reveals at Victor’s death that retribution is not satisfactory. The monster ends up wanting forgiveness*; “what does it avail that I know ask thee to pardon me? I, who irretrievably destroyed thee by destroying all thou lovedst” (217).* Retributive justice only destroys everyone involved; there is neither healing nor consolation. It only leads to more destruction and is therefore not just.

Walton instead has the responsibility to help the monster process his existence so he can best live for himself and for human society. The monster believes that his creator Victor is responsible for preparing him for a virtuous and happy life: “‘Remember, I am thy creature: I ought to be thy Adam…I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy and I shall again be virtuous” (118-119, 119). Victor did not befriend him nor guide him so the monster never learned how to live virtuously. It is fair to the monster that he be helped in this way and Walton is the last one who can help him.

So, if Dabi/Touya does eventually get a redemption, who will take up the role of Captain Walton? Shouto? All Might? Hawks? Another Pro Hero? Another family member perhaps, such as Fuyumi or Natsuo?

It’s interesting to note that Natsuo's major in college is medical welfare,

 which deals with sociology and mental health, among other things. Those who major in it can become counselors, social workers, and psychiatric social workers.

From Suzuka University of Medical Science, Department of Medical Welfare, Clinical Welfare Course page: "In this course students... acquire the skills of counselling for clients and their families and combine them with other medical services and health and welfare specialists."

However, this redemption would require detention. First, it would provide the opportunity for Walton to peacefully restore his feelings, for the monster lost some ability to empathize after killing Elizabeth: “then I was not miserable. I had cast off all feeling, subdued all anguish to riot in the excess of my despair” (218). Regardless if he lost all feeling or not, he would need guidance to learn how to feel sympathy, respect, and love. Second, it would help appease his fellow humans as they could see him “pay his debt to society,” helping them process his existence as well, though preferably in a monastery or small town where people could interact with him but stay away from large groups of people.

It would be a bittersweet ending if Dabi/Touya ended up being institutionalized, just like his mother. 

or dabi could commit suicide after endeavors death like the frankensteins monster for I think shigaraki who touya is paralleled with  is going to die of course I think a big difference between Dabi (if he is Touya) and Shigaraki is that he still has a family to help him heal. 

(a comment from reddit post  )

this theory adds to the dabi is a zombie theory given that frankensteins monster was created from corpses fuzzypastaangelfreak . tumblr . com/post/186925080336/bnha-theory-for-all-intensive-purposes-dabi-is-a/embed

part 2: megashadowdragon . tumblr . com/post/188008382847/embed

@hamliet

[slxyangel]

Pain and Noise (Duff x Reader)

Summary: I was fed up with just about everything that constituted my life, so I started playing.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, mentions of violence, swearing, panic attack.

Wordcount: Almost 5k

A/N: First fic I ever write, I am nervous and this was originally in Spanish, so be nice with my best try of a translation. Enjoy :)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

Masterlist: https://slxyangel.tumblr.com/post/189625800403/masterlist

The pain in the back of my hands was intense, searing, and growing worse with every minute I spent holding the drumsticks and unloading my rage over the drums in the studio. The accumulated tension stiffened my fingers, the muscles in my arms were numb and it had been a while since I started feeling my nails spiking my own skin because of the pressure I was putting on it. I didn’t care; I preferred to feel that rather than the anguish that had been threatening to rip off my chest these last few weeks. I don’t know how much time I spent like that. What I do remember is the pain. And the noise.

I also remember sitting on the stool during a little while the guys were out, I’m not sure what for, maybe to grab some food or take a break. They had been working on the album for months, and these days of polishing, re-recording, fixing and tuning everything up for the final version were being especially hard; they deserved a breather. “And so do I”, I told myself while I held Steven’s drumsticks and gave it a second thought, maybe it wasn’t a good idea. He, as any other percussionist, didn’t like it when someone else fiddled with his instrument, not to mention if it happened without him being around to control it. I could only hope that he didn’t show up in that very moment and caught me, because I don’t think I would have the strength to explain him every thought that was circling my head the moment I decided to play his drums, and even less not to drown the whole story with my tears. I mean, come on, it was only going to be a little while.

I had been working with the band practically since the recording process for Appetite for Destruction began. I was in my last year of university, and needed an internship to complete my learning agreement, and, I still can’t comprehend how, my best friend’s father got me plugged-in in Geffen Records. They were the ones who decided that the best option for an audiovisuals student was in the recordings for a young rock band’s debut album. This is how I ended up being Mike Clink’s personal assistant and hanging out with Axl, Slash, Izzy, Duff and Steven. The chemistry had been practically automatic, I got along with them pretty quick and, even though I started being basically the coffee girl, I was always very comfortable in such a creative and carefree environment.

I remember those first days in which Mark, my boyfriend, used to drive me to the studio in his car. I could drive, of course, but my new job seemed almost more exciting for him than it did for me, so he insisted in getting me there, picking me up and making me tell him every little detail of my brand-new work life. He was thrilled when I told him how I had spent twenty minutes of my first day talking with Slash and he had shown interest about my studies, my reasons to be there and my general life. “If we’re gonna work together, we might as well be friends”, he said. The guy told me that he had a snake, that his parents were artists and that’s why he had always been so involved with music. He also said he got his first guitar when he was 15 and that he and the guys ended up together out of sheer coincidence, but they had realized they were the perfect combination, so they were really excited about their new project. It was there that I realized I was in the right place and, even if, worst case scenario, the rest of the band hated me, at least I had a new friend.

However, my worries couldn’t be any more unfounded. Once I had talked to Saul, the rest of it went smoothly. Axl was quite a character, for instance, a guy you felt like looking at. Wherever he was (because he couldn’t stand still for a second), your eyes would be glued to him. He had an enviable magnetism no matter what he did: singing one of their songs, bringing order to the mixing desk, finishing off half a liter of Jack Daniel’s… He was the kind of person who seems out of reach from every one of us mortals but, deep down, is a cinnamon roll. Our first interactions (mostly his, let’s be honest) were filled with double intentions. In any case, now that I see it in retrospective and compare it with the way he treated other girls, I came to think that this was his way to know women in general, his default mode. Actually, those anecdotes of conversations I had with the vocalist were worth a fair dose of laughing for Mark and me during our more than usual supermarket-pizza, Ben-&-Jerry’s-ice-cream dinners in the flat we shared. Over time, Axl’s phase of blatant flirting with me faded away, making room for a really close friendship between the two of us.

Izzy, on the other hand, treated me almost as if I was an experiment. Do you know the feeling when you arrive to a new school but the year has already started and everybody is curious about you? Well, that was more or less how the guitarist reacted to my incorporation. He had never been too talkative, or, at least, not as much as the rest of them, so my first days with the brunet can be summed up to him joining conversations between me and someone else, to learn a bit more about me without having to ask directly; to my hand-waving gestures and his responses raising his chin or his eyebrows; or to him offering me drags of his cigarette from time to time, while we waited for the rest of the guys to record their tracks so we could all go partying together. It was interesting. It was entertaining. It was even funny to see us unfolding, adapting to each other until we gained full trust. We could argue that his more reserved, almost wary personality and my own, more explosive and versatile, complemented each other as two puzzle pieces; one had what the other lacked.

And, while Izzy complemented me, Steven understood me. We were two peas in a pod: energetic, chaotic and jam-packed with energy. Basically the kids in the team. Like two naughty twins, we loved to terrorize the studio. We threw stuff at each other, we laughed like crazy, we yelled from one corner of the room to the other the dumbest, most absurd shit you could imagine… One of the activities I enjoyed the most was to scare away the chicks from him. Some afternoons when he was chilling on the couch, unaware and concentrated on hitting on whatever girl he had just met, I arrived, seated next to him on the couch and went full on clingy-ass-girlfriend with him: handsy and unbearable. I interrupted the groupie and put up with Steven’s deadly glares until, after a while, the girl took off, sometimes walking towards one of the other guys, sometimes straight to her house. The drummer always got mad at me when I did this to him, but his anger never lasted for more than ten minutes.

And then there was Duff. He was something else, something different. I had never had such a connection with anyone, and even less with anyone I had met for so little time. Duff had his own light, like an extremely bright star, and I was flashed by it but, at the same time, he irradiated a delightful kind of warmth, too nice for me to voluntarily step away. He was fun, he was compassionate, he was sensible, he was a little bit mad and he made everything unspeakably easy. The rest of the band spent their days saying that we should have sex or betting on whether we were or weren’t conscious of the sexual tension they assured was too obvious between us. At first, we either told them to fuck off or went along with it, but without giving it much of a second thought. At the end of the day, I was dating Mark, who I adored, and Duff knew it. We were nothing but friends, like the rest of the guys.

Weeks went by and I kept getting closer and closer with the bassist: we talked about everything and anything, we told each other countless anecdotes from our lives before arriving to L.A., and he even sometimes helped me with the paperwork. More than once, even though smoking was allowed in the studio, the two of us stepped outside to do it, and a break that was meant to last for 10 minutes ended up being one hour long. When this happened, Slash had to come out for him, wielding his guitar and threatening to smash it on his head if he wasn’t back inside in the following fifteen seconds. In fact, some of those days when it took me longer to finish my job he would stick around and offer me a ride home before he headed to the club, so that Mark didn’t have to come pick me up that far that late.

Of course, it was all being too good to be true. The first day this happened, when I arrived home in “some other dude’s car, instead of a fucking taxi”, Mark’s own words, I found a version of my boyfriend that I didn’t like one tiny bit: wary, silent and mean. When I asked what his problem was I already saw the answer coming, but I just refused to believe he was going to get all possessive over such a nonsense, he had never behave like that. That night we went from yelling at each other to the silent treatment in a matter of a few hours, and the next day, when I got to the studio in my own car for the first time since the guys knew me, that place looked like goddamn press conference. They took less than two minutes to notice I was a little bit off, and less than five to tell me “Dump him, fuck Duff”. I couldn’t help but laugh. I hadn’t broken up with Mark, we had just argued; I would speak to him and we would fix things; that’s what couples did. Bitch, you thought.

For the next few days everything seemed to have turned back to normal: my boyfriend and I were okay, he said he was sorry and begged me to let him apologize by being my chauffeur again. I didn’t quite feel like rocking the boat after that night, so the idea of not driving myself to work didn’t seem that bad, until the days Mark started arriving a little earlier each day. Five minutes, fifteen, half an hour before my cutoff time, as if he had to make sure I went back home with him, as if he had to keep an eye on me. In fact, one of the days in which he arrived with a bigger margin of time, he decided it was a good idea to wait inside the studio while the band was recording, and argued that “it would be a lot more boring to wait in the car”. Over the last days, the guys had noticed how pissed it made me the fact that he was chasing after me, behaving like an asshole and little more than tying a leash around my neck, so Axl stepped up and asked him to leave, since the guy wouldn’t listen to me. I have to admit I was surprised with how calmly the vocalist took the intrusion, taking into account his normally short temper. He told Mark that “it wasn’t his problem if he wanted to be his girlfriend’s chauffeur, but he couldn’t simply burst into a private property as if it was his house, and even less when they were working.” To be honest, that was one hell of a comeback, because if the singer had exposed the real reasons why he wanted him out, the other one would have clutched at straws to the philosophy “She is my girlfriend, you don’t get a saying on this.” But on his argument and on his turf, Axl had the upper hand.

Despite all the efforts, Mark told him to mind his own business and that, if the redhead kicked him out of the studio, he would be behaving like a total dick. Then, as if the destiny was trying its best to fix things, sarcasm be sensed, Duff showed up in the anteroom where we were. As soon as my boyfriend saw him, his eyes started blazing, and it only took the bassist telling him he had to leave and that I was still in my working hours so I wouldn’t go with him, for his fist to connect with Duff’s jaw in a nasty jab. And hell was fucking raised.

Axl pushed Mark, who was holding my arm with the same hand he had punched the blond with two seconds ago. Not letting go of me, he tackled the vocalist, mumbling something I can’t remember. Then he walked towards the front door, grabbing me with him. “Let’s go. Now”, he ordered. His fingers dug into my skin with such anger and despair that I could already feel the bruise forming underneath, and I was half shocked, half scared shitless. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to get in the car with him and I didn’t want any more punches either, but in any case my limbs were not responding to the commands my brain tried to make, whichever they were. It was then that, halfway across the room, before reaching the door, Mark stumbled and fell, finally releasing my arm. The first thing I saw when I lifted my eyes was Duff standing there, with his mouth covered in blood, shaking his right hand once and breathing heavily.

- If you ever touch her again like that, I’ll kill you.

While Mark was trying to get up, Slash stormed in from the recording room. He had seen the events of the last two minutes from his position behind the glass, and he wasn’t going to take any more of that shit. Right before the other one went ballistic attacking the bassist and blood started to hit the fan, Saul grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and kicked him, literally, out of the place. Once the metal door had closed between Mark and us, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I vaguely remember I started hyperventilating, on my knees, on the floor, and the sound of punches hitting metal on the outside was all but helping me calm down. As tears streamed down my face and I frantically run my fingers through my hair, a hand started trailing my back. It was a soft touch, slow, really slow. Making its way upwards and then going back down, over again. The noise level had considerably decreased, and now all I could listen to were whispers, the sweetest whispers coming from the mouth of one single person. “Shhhh, easy. You’re having a panic attack. It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here. Breathe.” Little by little my quick and superficial breathing became steadier, and after a few minutes I was able to stand up to sit on the couch. The beating on the door had stopped, and I realized all the guys were surrounding me, worried look on their faces, as Duff, seating beside me, still had his hand in my back.

_________________

It had been two weeks since that day. After the incident, I sure as hell wasn’t going to be under the same roof as Mark, and even less with the fight still recent. Who knows what he would do to me as soon as I crossed the threshold… The guys profusely insisted that I could stay with any of them, but they let me use their phone to call my best friend when I told them I would be in very good hands with her. Laura received me with a warm hug the moment she saw me, and that night, at her home, we cried, we ranted and we ate ice-cream until we couldn’t take any more. I have to admit that, given the circumstances, she managed pretty well to get me into bed feeling kinda happy. But of course, nothing lasts forever. I was about to graduate, with no home (the foster-bed in Laura’s house didn’t count), no boyfriend and no plans of work, projects or future in general; ahead of me there was a massive precipice with seemingly no ending. Besides, the production process for Appetite was coming to an end, and so did my internship and the months of togetherness with the band. Now was the time for press conferences, concerts and, if it all went well, the tour. To be honest I was super happy for them. I had seen the birth of that album, and I was blindly certain that with such a masterpiece they were bound to success. It was inevitable. But in any case, that meant the end of what had given me the most joys in the last four months and, if apart from all the financial and emotional stability I had gained during my college years, someone took that away from me… what did I have left?

__________________

After that much time hitting the drums, I had ultimately interiorized the beat so much now I was just reproducing it on loop, with my eyes closed and breathing heavily. I was so self-absorbed that I didn’t realize the door had opened and someone had stepped into the studio. Suddenly I felt how, behind my back, two hands softly landed on my shoulders. I didn’t stop playing. My arms moved now with less vigor to the beat I had marked from the beginning, while those fingers gently traced small circles in the back of my neck, comforting me.

Duff.

It had to be him, I was certain.

Little by little I reduced the speed of my movements, gradually, until I completely stopped playing. When I left the drumsticks on the snares and turned around in the stool I saw him. He was standing there, right in front of me, asking with his eyes, a calm and expressive look on his face. An almost imperceptible sigh escaped my lips. He was worried about me.

- Good thing it was you who entered, and not Steven – I said, half jokingly, as I stood up, hoping to relax the tension built up between us.

- Yeah – he laughed softly. – Had it been him he would have ripped the drumsticks off your hands and hit you with them.

I laughed too, quietly, bitterly. This was too much for me. The words we never said were floating around, like a thousand needles falling into a tailspin above us; eventually, they would have to land. The worst part was that I didn’t know if I craved that moment or, on the contrary, dreaded it.

It looked like he had read my mind when he slowly, almost asking for permission, held my hands. I startled a bit with the contact, but I let him go on. Duff looked at them for a second before he noticed the tiny wounds I had unconsciously inflicted on myself digging my fingernails too hard a while before, at the drums. Without saying a word, he started caressing them very softly, as if he wanted to calm, more than my physical pain, the sentimental one. He was breathing deeply and slightly frowning. He was concentrated in trying to make that feeling disappear, the confusion, the guilt, the fear… the stream of emotions that had been threatening to break me for some time now. He looked me in the eyes. In that very moment, the temperature inside the room raised a few degrees. We were really close. So close I could feel his breath on me, listen to his heartbeat accelerating with every second that went by, see how his lips lightly parted, practically not at all, only a hint of the thought that filled our minds in that place, in that moment. Then, almost involuntarily, as an instinctive reflex, I stretched my neck upwards. That was the only sign he needed to make the already scarce distance between our lips disappear, and kiss me.

The contact was slow, sweet and full of longing. Our lips moved rhythmically, perfectly fitting on each other’s. Duff was still holding my hands, and I could feel my breath accelerating progressively. I released one of my hands and placed it on his neck, stroking the hair on his nape and helping myself keep balance in my tippiest toes. He saw my struggles and moved his free hand to my waist, firmly holding me so that I wouldn’t fall. All of a sudden, I felt the urge to be closer to him, even more. Everything that I hadn’t been able to do and that had bottled up inside of me was now too overwhelming, and I didn’t want to fight it anymore. Our kiss intensified, we hungrily enjoyed each other, panting. The next thing I knew was that Duff had placed his hands on the back of my thighs and lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist and leaned my arms on his shoulders, so I could keep kissing him while he crossed the room and sat on the leather couch, with me straddling his lap. He ran his fingers up and down my thighs, slightly lifting the hem of my dress, as if he was testing some boundaries that I hadn’t set and, at this point, I didn’t plan to.

I was euphoric, nervous and loaded with desire. In a burst of braveness or lust, I’m not entirely sure, I started to buck my hips, back and forth, following a slow path at first, which progressively accelerated. The friction of my underwear in direct contact with his leather pants was about to drive me mad, and I couldn’t stop. His hands, which a moment ago were on my hips, guiding them, started moving over my lower stomach, tracing the edge of my panties in painfully slow motions. His breath was also heavier, somehow ragged, and I felt him hardening beneath me. His lips were stuck to the base of my neck, lightly sucking as I, with my eyes closed and lips parted into a silent “O”, gently pulled his blond hair. My core grew more sensitive by the minute, and when I thought I wouldn’t be able to hold the moan trapped in my throat anymore, his fingers touched my most sensitive spot, turning my steadily rocking hips not that steady for a moment.

In a matter of seconds, and with his hand working wonders between my legs, I got rid of the dress, which only bothered, and the perspective of my almost absolute nudity on top of his entirely dressed body made me shake with arousal. His free hand took care of my breasts, now exposed, as I dug my nails into his shoulders, underneath the sleeveless shirt he was wearing.

-  Take it off – I managed to blurb between gasps.

-  What? – Duff seemed confused, too concentrated on something else for having been able to follow the road of my own thoughts.

-  Your shirt, take it off. I want to touch you.

A shit-eating grin lit up his face right before he separated in a quick motion from that piece of clothing and threw it somewhere else. Immediately after, in a total change of the atmosphere, he laid back on the couch and, placing his hands behind his head, said:

-  Then touch me.

I didn’t hesitate for a single second. My hands flew to his shoulders, his arms, his shoulders again and went down his chest as I peppered kisses all over his lips, jaw, neck, collarbones… I took my sweet time while swinging my hips against the fabric that separated my pussy from his erection, and my nails traced a descending path down his torso, really slowly. I could notice how he was growing desperate; I felt his breath, now turned into a subtle growl, against my hair; I realized how shortly he had managed to keep his hands off me, since now he was caressing my flanks, my back and my chest. When I reached the cord of his pants with my fingers, I slowly undid the knot that tied them together and slipped my hand underneath, without stopping my hip motions. The very moment I found the base of his length, a soft grunt escaped his lips. He was driving me insane.

After a while arousing each other, we couldn’t stand the teasing any longer and Duff took the first step to getting rid of the clothes that were still around. I stood up and took off my sandals so that he could slide my panties down my legs, grazing my skin along the way. He also let go of both his pants and sneakers, tossing them on the carpet. Our moves were clumsy thanks to eagerness and anticipation. I once again sat on top of him, in our initial position, only now there were no clothes in the middle of the road. I could feel him against me. Touch. Friction. Desire. His expert fingers moved now freely over my core, as he left little love bites under my left ear. I kept on rubbing his cock, fully hard and a bit wet, while, with my other hand, I held on to his hair for dear life. We were close, really close. It felt as if every centimeter of my skin was on direct contact with Duff. He was everywhere, every corner, every goosebump, every scar… With all this overstimulation, my moans filled the room, and I didn’t have enough sanity to realize anyone could come in. I was a mess.All of a sudden, right when I was seconds away from cumming, his hands disappeared from my core. Even though I couldn’t see myself, I was sure in my eyes one would be able to read the anticipation and confusion.

-  Wait – he said in a desperate whisper -. I want to feel you, I want to be inside of you.

If he hadn’t stopped touching me a moment before, I am sure that sentence would have sent me to the wildest of orgasms, but it wasn’t the time for my sweet release. Not yet. He put his hand right next to mine, on his cock, and, with an almost unbearable slowness, he brought the tip of it to my entrance. A trembling sigh fell from my lips and we looked into each other’s eyes. Then, I gently let my hips descend on his lap, and he completely slid inside of me, letting escape an unearthly growl that gave me chills. He had dropped his head back, leaving his neck and collarbones exposed to me, but I had my eyes closed as I tried to control the delightful contractions that were about to take over me. I felt him inside of me, extremely deep. As if we were two pieces of the same puzzle, as if we had been manufactured specifically to be together. Now THAT was overstimulation. Once my body had adjusted to him, I started motioning my hips up and down, holding on to his shoulders so that I didn’t lose the limited balance I had left. He once again was looking at me, with his hands on my waist as I kept the path. Close, very close. His arms slid around me and I kissed his lips eagerly. Our moans died in one another’s mouth while the movements became faster, erratic, frenetic. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep my sanity, I was almost raving with pleasure, and the moment our lips broke away to take air and we looked at each other, nose to nose, without stopping for a moment, I couldn’t hold it any longer. I came with a flashing intensity, pronouncing his name countless times, asking God knows who for this moment to last forever. I couldn’t stop screaming, and when Duff begged my name and I felt his liquid warmth filling every bit of me, I saw white.

_______________

His hand stroked tenderly my naked back while my breath came back to normal against his neck. The same as that day, but at the same time entirely different. I was still on top of him, he was still inside of me. I hadn’t yet gathered the strength to pull him apart from me, but he didn’t seem willing to get separated either, so we stood like that for a while, I don’t even know how much, but I don’t care. This felt utterly intimate, intense, extremely ours and totally apart from the rest of people, from the rest of things. It was a parallel universe inside of a crystal ball. It was the embodiment of all that was right. What we had been, without knowing or admitting it, even to ourselves, waiting for all this time.

[youngjusticeslut]

And They Were Roommates (Chapter 3)

Fandom: Young Justice Links: FF.net // AO3 Characters:  Artemis Crock, Jade Nguyen, Roy Will Harper, Lian Nguyen-Harper Ships: Light RedCat Summary: On her first night in Jade and Roy’s apartment, Artemis experiences her first Nguyen-Harper dinner. Quite fluffy.  Rating: T Word Count: 2343 Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters. Also I wrote this while sick so I’m really sorry in advance if it sucks but I like it so whoops.

Upon exiting the bathroom, Artemis was greeted to the happy gurgles of her eleven month old niece. The sound brought a rare smile to her face; if there was one good thing about living with her sister, it was that she would get to spend some more time with Lian. How Jade and Roy both managed to produce such a cute and charming little thing, she’d never know.

She returned to the living room, already expecting to hear her niece’s garbled version of her name. From the sounds of it, Lian must be playing. Artemis snuck her phone out of her jeans, ready to capture the rare sight of her sister playing with her daughter; she’d put it on a Christmas card and send it to her mother.

Instead, she found Lian playing with an impressive assortment of silver knives.

Artemis didn’t think twice before she dropped her phone, scurrying to pick up her niece and get her away from her chosen playthings. Lian squealed as she was scooped up so quickly, clapping her hands in delight. After a quick once-over, Artemis finally exhaled in relief as the baby appeared to be just fine.

“‘Mis, ‘Mis!” Lian cheered, grabbing a blonde lock of her aunt’s hair and tugging excitedly. Wincing, Artemis tried to breathe through the sudden pounding in her heart, bouncing her little niece to calm herself down.

“Jade?”

“Kitchen.”

Artemis carried Lian to the kitchen, still trying to wrap her mind around the image she’d just seen. Roy stood at the stove, stirring a pot. She knew she was being rude by not saying hello, but at the moment she had bigger things to address. Jade lounged at the kitchen table, glass of red wine in her hand. She looked up as Artemis entered, smirking once Lian cooed and reached for her. “Looks like you two are getting along.”

“Did you know that I found her playing with knives?” Artemis hissed.

Roy stiffened and turned to look at his wife, brow furrowed in utter exhaustion. “Jade,” he deadpanned, annoyance dripping from his voice. Clearly, this wasn’t the first time this had happened.

Her sister shrugged, plucking Lian from Artemis and holding her close. “They were butter knives, Red.”

“Like that makes it any better?” Artemis nearly screeched.

“Relax, Sis,” Jade purred, grinning at Lian. “She likes it.”

“That’s besides the point, babies shouldn’t play with knives!” Artemis turned to look at Roy in incredulous disbelief. “You’re okay with this?”

“Of course I’m not okay with it,” the redhead snapped, turning the burner off and glaring at Jade. “This is the last time we’re having this discussion, Jade. No more knives; she’s already prone to like violence, and I won’t encourage it.”

“Really, Roy?” Artemis said, watching as Lian began to get restless in Jade’s arms. “Your problem is with her genetic tendencies, and not the fact that she could hurt herself?”

“She won’t hurt herself,” Jade scoffed. She carried Lian over to her highchair and buckled her in. “Ignoring the fact that Lian is my child and is too smart to hurt herself-”

“Our child.”

“No, my child still stands. Your logical reasoning skills are average at best,” she corrected as Roy rolled his eyes. Artemis had to fight hard against the smirk forming. “Lian barely has the strength to pick up an apple, let alone hurt herself with a knife. Besides, they’ve all been dulled.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Artemis asked.

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel better. If it really bothers the both of you so much, I’ll find her some plastic toy knives to play with.” Finished with the conversation, Jade strolled over to the cabinet and pulled out some baby cereal for Lian.

Artemis shook her head at her sister and turned to Roy. “You won’t really let her do that, will you?”

“Trust me, downgrading to toy knives is going to be the most reasonable compromise I’ll get from her. I’m not going to attempt any further,” Roy sighed, pulling out three plates from the cupboard and watching as Jade poured out some cereal puffs on Lian’s tray. “Hey, by the way,” he greeted, nodding at Artemis.

“Hey,” Artemis greeted back. “You cooked?”

“Chicken.”

“It smells good.”

“Would have tasted better an hour ago,” Roy chided, unable to keep the irritation from penetrating his words.

Artemis held her hands up in defense. “Sorry. Didn’t realize mealtimes were so strict.” Roy grunted, somewhere between a scoff and a snort. There were bags under his eyes, and his t-shirt was too big on him. She hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing Roy in the thick of his depression, but according to Wally, he’d really gone off the deep end in his search for Speedy. At the funeral, he still hadn’t looked completely back to himself. It was a relief to see him acting so normal. Normal for Roy, at least.

Roy handed her two plates of food and she dutifully carried them to the table. Jade was watching Lian pick up the cereal puffs and shove them into her mouth with drool-covered fists. She grinned as Artemis set the plates down on the table. “Well, look at that. Treated like royalty in my own home.”

“Shut it.”

“Do you do dishes, too?”

Artemis scowled as Roy brought over the last plate and sat by Lian. “How do you put up with her?” Roy didn’t answer. Instead he took some chicken from his plate and cut it up into small pieces. He made sure they were cool enough to eat before setting them on Lian’s tray. The baby looked up at her dad and flashed him a gummy grin, peppered with a few baby teeth; Artemis pretended not to see the small grin Roy gave back.

“So,” Jade began, wine glass in hand again. “Let’s break the tension.”

“Smooth, Jade,” Artemis grumbled, stabbing at her chicken. It was hard to be mad at it when it tasted so good. She’d never known that Roy could cook this well.

“Someone had to. And it wasn’t going to be Roy.”

“She’s got a point there,” Roy agreed. “I’m better at causing tension.”

Artemis chuckled. “Was that supposed to be a joke?”

“Was it funny?”

“Little bit,” Artemis admitted. “You haven’t returned to the league yet. I thought you’d be jumping to go back once you were back in shape.” He hummed, looking away from Lian and directing his attention to Artemis.

“I extended my leave. Lian needs my full attention right now,” he explained. Roy’s eyes glanced over to his wife before he went quiet. “Most of my attention, at least.” Jade didn’t say anything in response, but from the way her eyebrow twitched it was clear that things still weren’t fixed between them.

“Dada?”

“Yes, Sweetheart?” Roy answered on instinct, ears going pink when he realized that he had. He had no problem calling his daughter a variety of different pet names; it was other people’s reactions that took some getting used to.  

“Juice.”

Before Roy could get up, Jade rested a hand on his shoulder and stood. “I’ll get it,” she insisted. “You still haven’t touched your dinner.”

Roy looked down at his plate, almost as if he’d forgotten that it was there. “Thanks,” he mumbled, picking up his fork. “How did the chicken turn out?”

“It’s good,” Artemis complimented, taking another bite. Her appetite had been touch and go as of late, but she couldn’t deny that this was the best food she’d had in months.

“Needs more salt.” Jade returned to the table, handing Lian her sippy cup before she sat down again. “Stop glaring at me, Artemis. I was only kidding. Red knows I like his cooking.”

Roy snorted. “Only because your cooking fails in comparison.”

“Won’t argue there,” Jade agreed, but she couldn’t hide her pleasure at his quip. They ate in comfortable silence, trying their best to pretend that it was normal. Lian certainly helped. She hummed as she ate, taking absolute pleasure in scooping up the bits of food her dad put on her tray.

When she cleared her tray, Lian threw her hands up in the air. “Done!”

“Good girl,” Jade approved, smoothing down her daughter’s hair. “Maybe you can teach your Dad a thing or two.”

“I’m eating, Jade.”

“She’s talking more now,” Artemis noted as Jade unbuckled Lian and sat her on her lap. Despite being ‘done’, Lian made to grab at Jade’s plate, picking up a scoop of mashed potatoes and placing it into her mouth. “It’s impressive for a one year old.”

“She’s not one yet.”

“September fourteenth?”

“Sixteenth, Red,” Jade reminded gently, slowly pushing her plate out of Lian’s reach.

“Right, I… right,” he said, a flicker of regret briefly flashing across his face as he laced his hands together. “She loves to talk. Walking is another story.”

“She isn’t walking yet?” Artemis asked. “Don’t kids usually start toddling around this time?”

“Not this kid,” Roy sighed. “We think she likes being carried too much.”

Artemis watched as Lian licked the potatoes from her fingers. Eventually, she cut out the middleman and just stuck her whole hand in her mouth, sucking happily. “Who can blame her?” she noted, making a funny face when Lian looked her way. The baby giggled and flailed her arms, getting some potato residue on her mother. Jade didn’t flinch; to Artemis’ surprise, she smiled. A small one, but it counted.

“I think it’s time for a bath.”

“I got her,” Artemis said, reaching for her niece. Jade raised a brow but Artemis shrugged. “Gotta pay board somehow. Finish dinner in peace while Lian and I get better acquainted.” Her sister stared at her before she finally acquiesced and handed her daughter over.

“If you need us, just call out,” Roy said. “She likes to splash. And the baby soap is on the rim of the tub. Don’t use too much, she likes to eat the bubbles. Toys are in the cupboard under the sink. And-”

“Roy,” Artemis interrupted. “We’re going to be fine. Isn’t that right, Lian? Your daddy is a big worrywart,” she said, bouncing her niece.

“I am not a…” Roy trailed off before he leaned back in his seat. “Fine. Just call if you run into any trouble.”

“I won’t. Eat your dinner, Roy.”

Jade snorted into her forkful of chicken.

Lian’s cries woke her up around three in the morning. They stopped around three fifteen, but Artemis couldn’t return to sleep. She wasn’t surprised; Artemis hadn’t slept a full night since Wally had ceased to exist.

At three thirty, she crawled out of bed. Brucely was on the alert, but he soon returned to sleep once determining that his owner was okay. Artemis rubbed his head and left the bedroom in hopes of sitting outside on the balcony. To her surprise, the door was already open. Jade sat on one of the chairs, holding a sleeping Lian to her chest.

“Did she wake you?”

“No,” Artemis said, leaning against the doorframe. “I couldn’t sleep.” Jade nodded, pulling the blanket around Lian a little tighter when the breeze hit. They didn’t speak for a little while, instead listening to the sound of the waves slapping the sand.

“You can sit, if you want.”

“And if I don’t?” Artemis tried to tease. She couldn’t shake off how odd this was. Jade and her had never been that close. Not growing up, and especially not after Jade had left her behind. Once in a while, Jade would pop in for a random visit, but that was the extent of that. To live with her, to even sit beside her as she calmly held her daughter was more than a little jarring.

“Then you don’t.”

Artemis sat anyway. “Roy still asleep?”

Jade shook her head. “I don’t think he’s slept a full night since finding out he was a clone. Some days he’ll only sleep an hour or two,” she said, holding Lian closer when she fidgeted in her sleep. “He usually calms her down before I do.”

“He looks good, Jade. Better than before.”

“Better. But not there yet,” Jade said. “Your boyfriend’s death sent him spiraling again.”

Artemis sucked in a breath. She hadn’t been expecting this to come up; she was surprised that Jade was even talking to her in the first place. Her sister wasn’t one to mention what happens behind closed doors. “But he seems to be improving. He’s there for Lian, isn’t that what you wanted?”

“More than anything. He’s a good dad,” she admitted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Anybody would be a good dad compared to ours.”

“Fair point. Crusher did set the bar pretty low.”

Artemis didn’t expect to laugh so early in the morning, but she did anyway. She leaned back in her seat, staring out to the sand. A figure appeared at a distance, slowly making its way closer to the apartment. “Is that Roy?”

Jade nodded. “He takes walks to clear his head.”

“That’s good.”

“I prefer to fuck him into next week, but it’s a little hard to do when there’s a baby sleeping in between us.”

Artemis grimaced, making sure that Lian was still asleep. “You’re disgusting.”

“No, I was disgusting. Now I’m just moderately filthy.” Jade pushed herself from the chair, taking her time as not to wake up Lian. “Got plans this Friday?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good.” Jade shot her a grin. “You’re babysitting.”