#always a sucker for a landscape

[comicposter]

The Swamp Thing (2021) Issue #2

Artist: Mike Perkins, Colorist: Mike Spicer

[avocadish0w0]

Scarian prompt: Photographer and model AU. Scar is a photographer and asked Grian to be the model. You can cross it with College AU if you'd like

Yello! @motherofplatypus thank you so much for this adorable idea!! I will indeed cross it with a college AU because I'm a sucker for those!

So quick summary!

Scar's a Art student at college, and he has a project that he has to make a small album with 10 pictures of someone he loves

Grian's a Architecture student at the same campus, and he was always hesitant to take pictures because of his low self esteem

Scar happened to love taking pictures of his childhood best friend that he may or may not have developed feelings for, but he'll never admit it, of course...

Or maybe, this photoshoot might bring them together in more ways than any of them expected...

Leeeet's go!

===============================

Scar's POV

"You guys have a month to complete this assignment, I expect good themes and pictures with the techniques I taught you throughout these months, any questions?" The teacher finished the explanation of the project, I was thrilled, and yet, lost, I had no idea who to ask to be my muse! I loved many people, my family, friends, Grian... Maybe- no, he'd never let me take pictures of him for a project, and if I tell him it's about someone I love I might accidentally confess to him! And I don't even think he feels the same, obviously not! We're just best friends since kindergarten, just that... Maybe I could try taking pictures when he's not looking, I know that he'd never let me take pictures of him if I asked him to pose.

I stood up with my cane, taking my backpack and swinging it over my shoulder, going towards the door with the other students, looking around for a certain blond pesky bird, yet, not finding any-

"Hey there handsome." I heard a British accent from behind me, startling me and making me jump "Oh! Hoo! Oh god! You scared me!" I pant softly, placing a hand on my racing heart until I could breathe normally, smiling as I hear his mischievously cute laugh that sent butterflies flying around my stomach"Hey there light of my life." I flirt jokingly back, supporting my elbow on his head, mocking his height, trying to push away the slight pink hue on my cheeks "Wanna get some lunch? I found a nice cafe down the street, it has those cookies you like" he asked, looking up at me with a wide smile that made my heart flutter 'God he's perfect' i thought, nodding "Sure! Let's go! I've been dying for cookies!" I replied, letting the short blond lead the way.

Grian's POV

I walked upfront, the soft sunlight that slipped through the cloudy sky hitting my face, filling me with a weird mixture of warmth and the cold from the breeze, it felt nice tho. I smiled brightly and closed my eyes, hearing a soft click behind me, I jumped slightly, turning around only to see Scar with his camera in hand and with a goofy smile "Scar!! Delete it!!" I rush to him, trying to take the camera from him "Never! You look so good in this one!" He debated, holding the camera up since he was a head and a half taller than me "Yeah yeah! I doubt it!" I jump, trying to reach it, making him laugh loudly, my face redder than my sweater, his laughter making my heart beat faster 'God! He's so annoyingly cute!' i think, huffing and walking away, crossing my arms "Fine! I'll go to the cafe without you! And I won't bring any cookies!" I smirked, knowing this would hit a nerve.

"Hey! Fine! Fine! I'm sorry! It's for a project of mine!" He admitted "Huh? Which project?" I asked, genuinely curious "I-it's uhm... You have to take 10 pictures of someone or something and make a small album, so... I was trying to picture the landscape but you were in the way and I couldn't resist it!" He waves around nervously "Hm... Just that?" I ask, raising an eyebrow "Yes!!" He replied fast, too fast actually, but I just brushed it off, rolling my eyes and entering a cozy looking cafe.

The cafe had cappuccino brown walls with white upper trims, many bookshelves and plants, some shelves with decorations and a chalkboard with the menu and a blank area for customer drawings.

I smiled mischievously, taking a white chalk and drawing a fluffy llama, hearing another click and snap from behind me, maybe Scar was taking pictures of the ambient, I turned to him after signing my name "How should we name her??" I asked playfully, watching as the tall brunet thought about a name "How about... Pizza!" He beamed at the name "Sure! Pizza the llama!" I smiled back, writing on top of the drawing and showcasing it to him, blushing furiously when I see him snapping a picture, smiling warmly at the screen "Why do you always take pictures of me when we hangout?" I ask curiously, sitting down at the stuffed bench by the window and looking at the menu "Oh, well, I just like to capture a memory of every moment, and two, you're very photogenic and look good in every picture, it's infuriating!" I heard him chuckle as he blushed softly, looking out the window, his camera left on the table.

Just as I was going to ask to see the pictures, a waiter walked up to get our orders, I looked at the menu and smiled "An Espresso, a chocolate chip cookie and a brownie for me" i said, looking at Scar, waiting for him to make his order "Oh! Uhm, I think an iced cappuccino with chocolate syrup and whipped cream and two cookies!" He smiled, making me giggle, 'Such a sweet tooth'

Scar's POV:

I hear Grian giggle as I make my order, my heart rate going up at the cute sound "What?" I ask, trying to push back the goofy smile that grows on my face along with the heat on my cheeks, "You're as a sweet tooth as you were when we were kids! I don't know how you do it!" He replied, baffled, leaning his head on his palm, his elbows on the table, he laughs softly "I guess that's why you're always so energetic, there's too much sugar in your blood stream" i hear him add, looking out the window, where the few remaining bit of sunshine disappear between the clouds, giving way to the droplets of rain that fall, hitting the glass, I smile to myself, preparing my camera and sliding slightly to the edge of my seat, making sure to get the best angle and...

Snap!

4/10 pictures now, just in time for the waiter to arrive with our orders, we thank the men and I turn to grian, still holding my camera "Hey, pesky bird..." I call him, making him turn to me with a mischievous and adorable smile "Say cheese!" I add as I snap a picture of his smile, making him go as red as a tomato "Scar!! C'mon! Delete it! Why are you even taking pictures of me?!" He tries to reach for my camera for the second time today, but I just laugh, setting in next to me on the cushion "You just need to admit it, you're beautiful, and I already said it's for a project!" I shoot back, taking a sip of my drink "You said your project was landscaping! Not me! What's it? Ten pictures of your local Grian?" He mumbles as he stuffs a forkful of brownie in his mouth, making me chuckle 'God, I almost gave away the real prompt, I need to be more careful-' my thoughts are interrupted by the sight of the short boy in front of me with a flustered face, sipping his coffee 'How did I fell in love with this adorable little menace...' I think, smiling

I watch Grian's head perk up, his face the color of his sweater, looking up at me "What?" He asked, flushed, leaving me confused "What do you mean? Wait- did I say that out loud...?" I ask, feeling my cheeks get hotter than the sun.

He nods, looking at his brownie fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves, face completely red, highlighting his freckles, the soft sand blond curls bouncing in front of his eyes "Oh..." Realization hits me, I just confessed to him accidentally.

He stands up and I already start waiting for the worst, that's it, he's disgusted by me, he's going to leave and we're never going to talk again, I'm going to lose my lifelong friend and all because of my stupid mouth-

I'm snapped out of my thoughts when Grian sits next to me, resting his head on my shoulder, his fingers softly tracing mine "Is that why you were taking pictures of me...?" He asks quietly, barely above a whisper, "Not entirely but yes" I didn't completely lie, but I felt my shoulders relax when I see his shy smile "It was for the project... Just... The theme was 10 pictures of someone we love..." I admitted, leaning my face on top of his, the sweet scent of his shampoo invading my nostrils and making me smile "You smell like poppies and lilacs, it's funny, a mixture of sweet and spicy" I whisper, burying my face on his hair "And you smell like sunflowers... Like hayfields, it's... Comforting..." He replies, fidgeting with his sweater, I notice his hesitation, he wants to say something else, but i don't press him on it.

Grian's POV

I take a deep breath, God this day took a complete turn, I should say it, he confessed so there's no need to fear rejection, but it's just so... Hard! I clutch my jumper, focusing my eyes on anything but the brunet I'm leaned on, the cookies! Yes! Good thing to focus on, cookies, chocolate chips, coffee, espresso, it's already warm, not good anymore, the cappuccino is iced, it's good, it's sweet- "I love you too" I blurt out before I get too consumed by my distractions ans thoughts "What-? Sorry could you repeat it?" He asks, looking at me "I love you too..." I say it again, this time slower, feeling my cheeks and ears burning "R-really?" He leans closer, tilting my head up with his finger before cupping my face on his hand, I just nod, too scared to speak with so many butterflies flying in my stomach, my heart racing, I unconsciously shift my gaze to his lips, I want to know how they feel... They probably taste sweet... Scar was always one to wear lipstick

"Can I kiss you?"

The words ring in my ears, my heart rate quickening and I nod, almost desperate, craving for touch. He leans in and I close my eyes, feeling his lips brush mine before colliding, the touch soft on my cracked lips, warm and sweet like strawberry, it starts off slow, loving, his hands cradling my face and pulling me closer, my body feels like it's combusting, it feels right, as if our lips were meant to be fitted together. When we part, he leans his forehead against mine, breathing heavily, face flushed and eyes glowing with what I can only suppose is passion "You're handsome..." I don't know what to reply, my mind fuzzy and thoughtless, he chuckles, and the sound rings just perfectly to my ears "No I'm not..." It comes off without much thought, almost instantly, like an automated reply, he rolls his eyes, taking his camera and I almost whimper at the loss of warmth, he turns my head to the screen, showing me the pictures "You're perfect, Grian... You might not believe yourself but you trust me" I just nod, looking at the screen, how he captured every detail in the way that indeed made me look good, I didn't say anything, hiding my face on his neck

"They're beautiful..." I mumble

"Only because you're in them..." He whispers back, pressing a soft kiss to my head.

'God, I love him so much...'

[lemonqii]

How the ghosts feel about theme parks (courtesy of me visiting one again after like 5 years)

Elias: only there for the food and pictures of his sons. Will complain about the price of hotdogs and lemonade ("$5?! I could make a better hotdog at home for free!" Nags the boys about it but buys em both a hotdog anyway. Will 100% end up buying hotdogs for the rest of the Ghost's too.) doesn't really go on the rides ("I've had enough excitement for a lifetime") but is willing to go on the Ferris wheel. Definitely took mama walker (or you can pretend it's y'all, I don't judge...) on dates to theme parks and go up together with them swirly ice creams and point out the sights.

Hesh: was a little hellspawn as a teenager when it came to theme parks. Always coaxed Elias into letting him drag Logan with him onto the scariest rides. (Still believe that them climbing the Ferris wheel is canon). Personally don't think he'd be very into buying any merchandise/souvenirs. Definitely more of an "I'm here for the rides and the rides only" typa guy.

Logan: as much as I don't think Logan particularly minded going on the scary rides, as he ain't really scared of heights, I like to imagine that he was a short kid and didn't have a growth spurt til he was around 17. Which meant in order to get onto the rides they had to have him wear insoles or else he wouldn't be tall enough for the requirements. Definitely likes the ride that goes all the way up and just plunges down (No clue what it's called). Unlike Hesh he definitely likes to collect plushies (Is limited to one per visit. Would buy all of them if he could).

Merrick: only really likes the teacup ride. Probably the only ride he will go on the entire day. Rest of the time he spends babysitting the ghosts (Elias may have their best intentions at heart but the man can't control em as well as Merrick can). I feel like he likes looking around and seeing all the other families and comparing it to what he has with the ghosts (“our Logan is way better behaved than that kid..”).. Despite never having kids of his own, he’s definitely taken the ghosts under his wing. Will only buy himself a beer, but won’t say to Elias buying him a hotdog. Refuses to go on any of the fast rides, uses the excuse that he’s carrying all the bags of merch that Logan buys.

Keegan: this man LIVES for the extreme rides. He competes with Ajax and Hesh on who will look most nonchalant in the replay (He always wins). Definitely one of those adrenaline junkies who tries out every ride. Hesh is the only one who can keep up with him, so the two generally split off from the rest of the group and go together. Also a sucker for the hotdogs.

Ajax: unlike the other two who take the whole “posing” competition very seriously, he’s more so there just to hang out with his friends. Going off the hc that he watches nature documentaries, I think he’d be real into those relaxing train rides where it’s like they’re going through a safari and explains what and how everything works (sfx are a must. Otherwise he will complain that it’s not an immersive enough experience).

Kick: those space/ocean inspired rides? Chefs kiss. Loves em. Considering how good he is with tech and I can’t help but imagine that he knows some stuff when it comes to the physics of the theme park rides. Will nag your ear off about how certain rides aren’t “up to code” (if it’s creaking too much it ain’t up to code). Isn’t really into the super fast rides, likes to look around and really see how the rides work.

Rorke: honestly? Idek where to start with this man.. pre fed Rorke was probably a sucker for those tall stripper pole reminiscent towers that go up and then down real fast. Likes the adrenaline, but really he enjoys looking over the landscape. -> especially if they're somewhere in America. He doesn't really get a chance to travel around the country since they're always so busy with missions, and being able to take in the whole view of his home is something he really enjoys. Fed Rorke on the other hand doesn't like theme parks all that much at all. Definitely feels like it doesn't suit a leader like him to be going on rides like a little kid. (Will still go on the scariest one just once to prove he's man enough.)

This is all I could think of for now I love these silly critters sm ෆ⁠╹⁠ ⁠.̮⁠ ⁠╹⁠ෆ

[love-and-deepspace-wiki]

Random Facts: Xavier

Huge shout out to @ourlittleuluru for the landscape photos of this scene! I'm always a sucker for more information!

Here, we can see Xavier had seven Noodle Soup cups?? Bro must really like White Bear lol.

Other Details Gathered:

They're at a Harmonious Convenience Store, another recurring establishment I plan to post about

There are two noodle cups from another brand in there too, but no concrete info on them beyond that.

The pink and yellow soda cans fascinate me too. I'm able to make out the bottom two characters: "空泉" ("empty spring"). But the top one remains an unsolved mystery. shhhh pls don't tell my Chinese professor 😭😭😭

[solitablvd]

Read My Mind

**Minors DNI**

chapter one

Read chapter two

Masterlist

Pairing: Demon!Javier Escuella x Female Reader

Summary: You’ve always been one who was lost in delusions of love and captivated by romance novels. One day, while exploring an antique store, you stumble upon a mysterious locket. Little do you know, this locket comes with a twist.

Warnings: NSFW, pure smut tbh, unprotected p in v, v fingering, more tags to come, female reader, brat Javier Escuella

Word Count: 2.3k

AO3 Link

chapter one:

As they cherished their final kiss, Jane knew that this boundless love they shared defied all limits. It was an eternal love that deserved to be honored in every way. As they walked down the aisle together, hand in hand, Jane felt her heart soar. In that moment, surrounded by the soft glow of the setting sun and the promises of forever, she knew that they were entering an endless journey where their love would continue to flourish. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, united in a heavenly love. The End. 

You closed the book shut and held it close to your chest in cherishment. You were always a sucker for a happy ending. You let out a warm sigh, holding your knees close to your chest as you looked out the window of your home. Your private library window held the view of the town below. 

Saint Denis was beautiful this time of year. The city was full of life. Every person carried their own story. You watched as the people passed by, unbeknownst to your watchful eyes. You watched as a couple entered the nearby theater, seemingly on a date. This time you let out more of a wishful sigh as you thought about how that could one day be you. 

As you were approaching the age of marriage, it seemed that ideas of love and romance followed you everywhere. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t dream of them every night. You wanted to cherish and be cherished. You weren’t sure what love felt like, but you imagined it felt like time standing completely still. 

“Are you done lounging around?” A voice broke your daze.

It was your father, who stood at the doorway of the home’s library. Complaining, he continued, “You always have your head in the clouds and your nose in a book. Be a dear and go pick up the groceries for today, please.” 

“Of course.” You nodded dutifully, rising from your window seat and carefully placing your book back on the shelf. 

You bid your father a kind goodbye, made your way down the flight of stairs, and journeyed out into the city streets. The general store was not too far from your home, and luckily the shop owner was familiar with you. As you entered, he knew exactly what you needed for your father: a collection of different foods and items.

While he gathered everything you needed, you looked across the street through the glass pane window. 

The antique shop was always intriguing to you. You had only been inside once, to search through the collection of early printed books they had. Still, it held a fascinating factor as it was filled with trinkets that carried their own narratives. 

“I’ll be right back, sir.” You notified the shopkeeper, exiting the store and crossing the street to the antique shop.

The wooden floor creaked under you as you entered, feeling very different from the luxurious spaces you were accustomed to. Still, you continued, giving a kind greeting to the older man at the register. The walls were draped with framed prints of different landscapes, some that you could recognize as the Heartlands, but a few others that were from parts of the country unfamiliar to you. 

The shelves were filled with all sorts of curiosities and trinkets. One shelf was full of early printed books that looked delicate to the touch. Another was full of only different, elegant candlesticks. The air felt thick with the smell of aged paper and wood. As you looked around the shelves you felt fascinated by the beautiful porcelain figurines, their soft skin feeling cold to the touch. 

As you looked through the trinkets, your eyes became drawn to a small black box. The object piqued your curiosity. You lifted the item, opening it with care. The inside of the case was lined with a deep red velvet fabric on the inside that you would’ve been captivated by had your eyes not locked on to a necklace the case had been holding. 

The chain was golden and detailed intricately. But what you were most drawn to was the golden locket that was adorned with an engraving of a flaming heart, an interesting design choice for a locket that was both elegant and striking. You opened the locket, expecting to find an aged photo of the previous owner. Instead, the locket protected a clouded garnet stone. Your thumb brushed over the smooth stone; it was remarkable. 

Having made your decision, you closed the case and carried it to the register. 

After purchasing the necklace, you went to pick up your groceries then headed back to your home. You couldn’t hold back from temptation once you arrived at your home, rushing to the washroom to try on your newest piece of jewelry. The necklace was surprisingly heavy as you lifted it up to your neck, watching yourself in the mirror as you clasped the ends. The length was perfect, allowing the detailed locket to lay on your chest divinely. 

The rest of the evening passed as it did everyday. You ate dinner with your father, then read some more before finally preparing yourself for bed. 

Your thin white chemise rested loosely on your shoulders as you sunk to your knees and leaned forward on your bed, folding your hands neatly to pray before bed. As you whispered your prayer, a strong gust of wind pushed your window open. You jumped slightly, doing the sign of the cross before getting up to close the window. The city below was still bustling with people. 

Slipping under your white bed sheets, you leaned over and blew out the candle in your room. The only light in your room was now only the pale moonlight shining through your window. You could hear the rustling of trees outside, along with the sounds of the city that had grown comforting to you. With a deep sigh, you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep. 

In the depth of the night, a voice whispered, smokey and intimate. “Wow.” 

You stirred, your eyebrows furrowing as you were unsure if the voice was part of your dream or reality. 

The same voice let out a deep, low chuckle. It sounded so distant, yet so close. The sound sent shivers down your spine, forcing you awake. You sat up quickly, blinking furiously as your eyes attempted to adjust to the dark room. 

On the couch near your window sat a dark figure. You could barely make out its silhouette in the darkness of your room. The figure became clearer with a snap of his fingers; fire sparked from the tip of his thumb as he brought it up to the cigarette hanging from his lips. The small flame allowed you to see more of him, his hair framing his carved features. He appeared elegant yet sinister. He paused slightly before lighting the cigarette. 

“You don’t mind if I smoke in here, do you?” He spoke again. The flame reflected in his dark, piercing eyes. You remained frozen in silence, feeling disoriented by the odd encounter. He looked at you expectantly, shrugging when you continued to give no response and lighting his cigarette anyway. He took a slow drag as he continued to connect his gaze with yours. 

“Who are you?” You asked wearily. 

“I can be whoever you want me to be.” He replied calmly, taking another drag from his cigarette and looking up at the ceiling. You stared at him further, still seated in your spot in your bed, not daring to move. 

Finally, he flicked the cigarette onto your carpeted floor. Your mouth opened to protest, but as he stepped on the cigarette it seemed to completely disappear from existence, leaving you both in complete darkness once again. 

“You’ve been longing for someone.” He spoke in an alluring tone, walking closer to your bedside. Your heart rate quickened as the distance between the two of you dwindled until he was standing right beside you. Getting a better look at him, you could see that he was wearing all black, with the tips of his boots providing the only pop of color in the form of a reflective gold. 

His hand reached out to grasp your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. His touch was surprisingly warm as if he was radiating his own heat. You gulped as you allowed his hand to guide your gaze, looking up to meet his. He looked at your features carefully, seemingly examining you. 

“Untouched paradise,” He muttered almost inaudibly. 

As he held your chin you could not deny the attraction you felt to the mysterious man. He had a hauntingly alluring energy, completely drawing you in. You felt a newfound sensation of want growing within you. He smirked at you slightly, making your eyes flicker down to his lips. 

He moved his thumb to now rest against your bottom lip, brushing it lightly before delicately pulling your lip down. Your breathing hitched as his thumb slowly entered your mouth. You opened your mouth ever so slightly to let him in. His other hand made its way to snake around your neck, not putting any pressure, but holding you in place as he moved his thumb slowly in and out your mouth. You allowed your lips to tighten around him, sucking slightly. 

“There you go,” He whispered deeply, focusing his gaze on your lips as they continued to move around his thumb.

He took a deep breath, moving his hand to run through your hair, “Lay back.” 

You did as he said: laying back slowly and keeping your eyes on him. You felt a strong tension growing. Your head hit your pillow and you looked up to the ceiling with a heavy breath. The bed shifted slightly with his weight as he sat beside you. 

You gasped lightly as you felt his hand trail up your thigh, reaching for your undergarments. He pinched the hem with his fingers and slid them down your body. The pulsing sensation was new to you, and was driving you to the point of desperation. 

His hand caressed your waist as the other pushed your raised knees apart. He used his fingers to tease you slightly, rubbing you in small circles. His touch made you tense slightly as you had never experienced anything like this before. 

“Relax.” He whispered encouragingly. You nodded, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. He collected your slick on his finger before slowly inserting it into you. You let out another gasp as he curled his finger in you, working his finger to slowly massage you. 

As he slowly inserted another finger into you, you let out a louder gasp, clenching around him while he began to move his fingers at a curated pace. His fingers stretched you slowly. Your hands gripped on the pillow underneath your head, letting the moans leave your mouth as you bucked your hips against his touch. 

He chuckled lowly as he slipped his fingers out of you, seemingly enjoying your growing desperation. He brought them up to his mouth to taste you. You watched as he seductively sucked your slick off his fingers, maintaining eye contact with you as he did so. When he was finished, he gave you a quick wink before shifting to get in between your legs. 

He placed his hands on either side of you, keeping himself lifted above you. You hadn’t even noticed that his clothes had now vanished completely, leaving him undone on top of you. He pushed your chemise up past your raised knees. 

You let your hands rest on his toned biceps, biting back your moan as he slowly pushed himself into you. He was a lot bigger than his fingers. You gripped him tightly and winced slightly as he finally fit all of himself into you. 

“You okay?” He asked. Through your tremble, you nodded at him. 

He remained still for a moment, seemingly letting you get comfortable with the new sensation before he began to move at an achingly slow pace. You couldn’t hold back the small gasps that escaped your lips with every slow thrust of his hips. His grip on your bed sheets tightened as he began to move a little quicker, keeping his gaze low as you squirmed below him with pleasure. 

The pooling in your lower stomach began to grow as your moans became incoherent, your fingernails digging into his arms desperately. He groaned above you, still keeping his gaze low as you threw your head back and moaned in pleasure. 

Your back arched as you came undone beneath him with a twitch. His thrusts became overwhelmingly quick as you continued to tremble below him, your hands traveling up to wrap around his neck. You felt him tense inside of you with a deep groan. He pulled out of you quickly, coming on your lower abdomen. He breathed heavily above you, his head hanging low. 

Your breathing matched his; your eyes traveling up to his as his gaze finally met yours. Your eyes connected only for a moment before he pushed himself off of you, standing up beside your bed as you continued to lay there breathlessly. With a snap of his fingers his clothes had completely reappeared, and with another snap, the mess on your stomach was completely gone. 

“Well,” He began, adjusting his collar, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“What?” You questioned. 

He took another cigarette out of thin air, lighting it with his thumb, “You’ll see. Get some rest.” 

He began to walk off towards your window. Your eyelids grew heavy, you tried to fight back the sleep to see where he would go, but you felt the wave of sleep takeover you and within seconds you had fallen into a deep slumber. 

[akabaka-dev]

Your game series Sucker for Love spoke to me in a way many things failed to get through to me. I am in the middle of a major depressive episode (I am medicated and I am taking care of myself) and I fight suicidal thoughts in a turbulent political landscape, so the topic of cruel, indifferent cosmos, as well as meaningless life, is something that I struggle with on a regular basis. Lovecraftian horror always seemed an excellent vessel to discuss existential questions, and when Stardust was speaking to Buck about things to see, and things that are worth everything... it's as if she spoke to me, getting through my jaded facade. I thought hope left my life for good years ago, but now I feel like my broken heart healed, and a little flame of hope was reignited. Thank you very much for your games.

That's so wonderful ❤️ Aka wrote that part as a bit of a message to himself, when he was feeling a lot of the pressure of *gestures at everything*. The ending was so personal to what we/he was going through then, if that makes sense. It's hard to convey in just text, but this is genuinely touching, to hear that specific bit resonated with you.

[me-gusta]

Silver Tongue

In a quiet moment between battles, Pike Trickfoot sat on the roof of an abandoned watchtower, staring out over the twilight landscape of Tal’Dorei. The air was crisp, the light softening with the first hues of dusk, and she let herself unwind, taking a deep breath. It was rare, these quiet minutes when the world felt untouched by chaos, like a snapshot in time.

Then she heard soft footsteps climbing the ladder, followed by a familiar, lilting hum. Scanlan Shorthalt emerged, carrying his lute with him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he found her. "What’s a girl like you doing on a rooftop like this?" he quipped, taking a seat beside her.

Pike rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. “Taking a break, you know? Trying to savor this little bit of peace while we’ve got it.” She looked over at him. “You don’t always have to follow me up here, you know.”

“Yeah, well,” Scanlan shrugged, strumming a soft chord on his lute. “Call me a sucker for good company. And besides…” He glanced at her, his gaze softer than his usual playful glint. “I know you’re probably the only person who’d even want me around in a moment like this.”

She laughed quietly, a warm sound that filled the air between them, like light piercing through the stillness. But then, without warning, a strange sense of déjà vu swept over her, as if she’d already lived this moment before—right down to the way Scanlan looked at her, the way the colors of the sky seemed to burn brighter around him, almost like they were meant to be framed forever.

“Scanlan,” she murmured, caught in the wave of familiarity, “have we… done this before?”

He tilted his head, looking at her with curious eyes. “What, you mean this? You and me on a rooftop?” He strummed another chord, a slower, softer melody. “Well, maybe not exactly like this. But I like to think we’re destined for these little moments together, yeah? You know, like—” He wiggled his fingers dramatically. “Some grand cosmic plan.”

Pike gave him a skeptical grin but couldn’t shake the feeling. Images flickered in her mind—flashes of memories she didn’t quite remember. In them, she saw Scanlan standing beside her in battles she didn’t recall fighting, laughing with her in places she didn’t remember visiting. It was as if these moments with him were strung across different versions of time, an unbreakable thread connecting them again and again.

Driven by an unexplainable feeling, Pike took his hand. “Scanlan… if there was a world where we’d known each other forever, what do you think we’d be?”

Scanlan’s face softened, and for once, there was no bravado, no flash of jest in his eyes. “I think,” he said, his voice a little shaky, “I’d be the guy who’d try to be worthy of you, no matter how long it took. Even if it was in a hundred different lifetimes.”

She squeezed his hand, and a warm glow seemed to radiate between them, as if time itself bent to keep them together. Maybe, she thought, they’d been meant to find each other over and over, every time and place different but somehow the same. And maybe that’s why she trusted him, even with the pieces of herself she was still figuring out.

As the stars began to flicker above them, Scanlan looked down at their joined hands, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “Pike,” he said softly, “do you think we could just… stay here for a while? Like, just you and me?”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, the weight of the world lifting, if only for that stolen moment. “Yeah, Scanlan,” she whispered. “I think we’re right where we’re supposed to be.” And so they stayed, sharing the silence, while the world slowed around them, holding their moment in the strange, timeless magic of dusk.

[24kmagiic]

saw one of your old posts about Davina and Bonnie. I know you ship Klonnie and I was curious if you think Klavina?(klaus/davinas) dynamic is what Klonnie’s would’ve started off as

I felt like Bonnie was robbed in canon but Davina is elevated in the show even when she’s kicked aside she still gets her happy ending by the end of it all.

Hiii!

So, while I used to be so against her, towards the end of the show's run, I didn't mind Davina because, at the end of a very long day, she was a kid caught in supernatural business. However, it was painfully obvious to me that Davina was who they refused to let Bonnie be. She was their pitiful attempt to erase Bonnie. However, it didn't work because she was quickly cast aside, which I believe was because they never had a real purpose for her EXCEPT to erase Bonnie.

With all that said, yes, the way Davina kept her foot on Klaus's neck would have been identical to how I imagined Bonnie would be. We already saw her be that way with Damon. Damon couldn't pass gas without Bonnie showing up to make sure no one else smelled it lmao.

The possibilities in which the two of them would eventually warm up to one another are endless, and I feel like every Klonnie story in existence has found its own ways of showcasing how the two of them would eventually come together.

I am a SUCKER for forced proximity which I think works excellent for Enemies to Lovers tropes. But I also think the two of them would just naturally realize that they're two sides of the same coin and find their stake in each other's lives that way.

(This next part is me rambling and has nothing to do with what you asked, so you can skip past the italicized text if you want lol.)

People always see Bonnie as this moral beacon that is full of light but if you really dig deep, Bonnie is a very dark character. She is the antithesis of evil, which does not always equate to what we define as 'good.' Bonnie's goodness is rooted in the way she masters evil, and she knows how and when to tap in. (For example: Trying to kill Damon by fire.)

Most "good' characters we see in media today aren't actually good, they're harmless. Elena is a perfect example of this. Just because she was physically unable to hurt a fly doesn't mean she was a good person. Her selfishness placed Bonnie in ugly situations plenty of times, but it was brushed off because she was trying to be good. (Think of how Seattle responded to the BLM protests and how it negatively affected the whole movement. They 'meant' well, but we caught the fire behind that mess.)

On the flip side, Bonnie would be classified as an 'extremist' if she was in a political landscape. That said, Klaus is also an extremist but on the opposite end. (Think 'right-wing' and 'left-wing' but without the political connotations.) In my opinion, this is why they work so well together but they're bound to bump heads because of it.

(And now, back to Klonnie!)

There are so many commonalities between the two of them that make shipping Klonnie so fun.

Similar to how two siblings can grow up in the same house and face the same trauma but end up polar opposites of one another, that's how I view Klonnie's commonalities (minus the sibling bit, obviously). They both faced similar traumas, but how they processed it turned them into different people. Klaus is the Yin to Bonnie's Yang.

Shared Traumas:

Parental Negligence

Bonnie: Rudy was negligent after Abby left him and Bonnie and thus Bonnie grew up alone with only Grams who failed to teach Bonnie about her heritage. (I'm aware it was against Rudy's wishes but I'm still side-eyeing lol.)

Klaus: Esther was negligent in keeping his father's identity from him and allowing her husband to abuse him. Also, she created that necklace to weaken him for her own selfishness, thus putting the target on his back when it came to Mikael.

Abandonment

Bonnie: Her mother walked out on her for no legitimate reason. Her father was always gone and Grams was an alcoholic (so they say). Even the people in her life were emotionally absent. Then you have her friends who left her to deal with the consequences of magic alone.

Klaus: After killing their mother, he had a deep fear of his siblings abandoning him. Therefore, he became obsessed with loyalty. His biological father was nowhere to be found until a thousand years later.

For brevity's sake, I'll stop with those two but they have others.

How they processed these traumas is so interesting:

They both gained an unnatural sense of loyalty, which lies in the fear of abandonment. Klaus forced loyalty onto others, while Bonnie gave loyalty to those who never earned it or didn't deserve it.

Bonnie became codependent on her friends because she had no one else, and Klaus became co-dependent on his family for the same.

Bonnie became overburdened by responsibility. She became everyone's 'go-to' for morality and protection, which gave her a skewed sense of importance, but it also burned her out. Klaus became controlling and constantly sought validation (from Elijah in particular).

Klaus ruled through fear because of Mikael's abuse. Everyone's acceptance of Mikael's abuse sort of validated his use of fear as a way of controlling people. Bonnie used her morality as a means of control for both herself and others.

Klaus is very self-loathing, and while Bonnie doesn't initially appear to be that way, she is too. Her strong moral code is just that, her way of torturing herself. (For example: Constantly sacrificing herself for 'good' simply because she has the duty of wielding magic.)

If Klaus controlled his siblings, Bonnie's control came with how she wielded that moral compass of hers. Seeing everyone around her live freely was triggering because she had to be responsible so early in her life. She never got to make mistakes. Mistakes meant abandonment to her, so she walked a fine line and tried to force others to do the same. (This may be why she struggled with her magic so often. I often wondered if the spirits were actually punishing her or if she was self-actualizing and punishing herself subconsciously.)

This is the tip of the iceberg with these two, but can you already see the pattern? My favorite aspect is how one craves what the other has. Klaus craves loyalty, and Bonnie craves control. They both want what the other (seemingly) has.

[frikatilhi]

eternally a sucker for soulmates au bojere, as if their meeting has already been fated by the universe, and their willingness to make it work is simply their souls always longing the other.

be it platonic or romantic, it's just a beautiful thing.

p.s. tinfoil hat/fic but do u think bojan's pre-esc interview where he said he likes finnish literature was foreshadowing all along?

yes.

And, the soulmate-y not!fic answer to your last bit is naturally that

Bojan has been drawn to other cultures for all his life. Languages stick like it's nothing. He haunts Ljubljana's arthouse movie theathers and their foreign indie film showings. At school, when they need to choose their reading, he always picks an author with a weird, exotic sounding name.

He's not sure why. Something about learning different ways of life, different histories, different stories is comforting. It makes him feel like he's closer to... something. Something his soul is searching for.

And some things speak to him more than others. Arto Paasilinna is one of them. Sure, he's pretty popular in Slovenia, lots of translations available, but reading him, something sparks in a special way. Something about the weighty subject matter that is handled with sharp, sometimes racy humour tickles Bojan's sensitivities. Reading about weird, laid-back, searching-for-something Finnish characters and journeys through the Finnish landscapes feels like-- it feels like...

Bojan's not sure, but it has to mean something, right?

[loveselenade]

Madoka 1.5

Since I’m watching PMMM for the first time (with a lot of it spoiled due socmed lol), I figured it’d be fun to write my thoughts so far, 1.5 episodes in. It goes without saying, but don't send me any further spoilers, as this is only fun if I can manage to remain as ignorant as I am now.

Things I knew before hand:

-Kyubey is a bastard.

-It has Shinbo Akiyuki's artistic sensibilities all over it (reason I started watching, tho I'm unclear what exactly his involvement in this is lol). Also, Urobuchi Gen is the main writer for this lol

-Madoka dies.

-Madoka is the paragon of good.

-Lesbian Satan.

-Homura has catholic guilt??

-Someone's backstory involves a brother or something.

-Guns

-Time loop.

-Jewel seeds but evil (this only makes sense if you've watched Nanoha, sorry lol)

-Witches

-Madoka saved a cat

---

--

-

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Illusory motion.

[image id: top view of a monochromatic, distorted staircase that looks like a spiral.]

An upwards climb or a downward spiral? The irregular curving of the stories and the pattern alternance sure makes it look like it's spiraling inward. As our lace curtain lifts so the play can begin, this is our first look at the kind of world that awaits us.

[image id: gif showing a close up to Madoka's legs and then a panoramic top view as she runs through a monochromatic hallway with a chessboard pattern]

I don’t have a lot to say about the witches’ labyrinths yet, but I’m always a sucker for dreamscapes (I loved them dearly in Flip Flappers, where they had the incredible work of Studio Pablo strengthening the storybook look), and I’m assuming the labyrinths symbolize something about the interiority or the difficulties the witch in question faced. I don’t have a lot to go by with the two labyrinths in episode one, but I did love the glimpse of the one we get in the opening sequence. I love the effect that it creates when alternating between panoramic shots or extreme close-ups to Madoka’s legs and back as she runs—respectively making her look too small against this overwhelming set piece or claustrophobically trapped in her impotence. As the camera moves along, there’s a sensation that the different patterns in the floors are moving. Because of the way we perceive depth via ascertaining the apparent parallelism or convergence of lines and value/color contrast, among other things, the pattern alternance in this monochrome set piece creates illusions of either motion or that each row is a step more elevated than the other. It’s a properly trippy place. I enjoy it. The straight white for the lighting and tiles creates an artificial and alienating atmosphere. The uniformity of its looks is disorienting. Is Madoka going the right way?  It’s really a fantastic introduction to the world of Madoka Magica.

The path you must follow has been prepared for you.

[image id: A green, flourescent exit sign is centered in the screen, hanging above a dark path framed by silver chain fence]

Despite the disorienting feeling, Madoka follows mostly straight paths and there's a clearly labeled, correct exit. This brings to mind the predetermined paths present in Revolutionary Girl Utena's imagery.

Additionally, I find the way Madoka’s run is boarded reminiscent to Utena’s chase after Anthy in Adolescence of Utena:

[image id: gif showing a panoramic view of of landscape shwoered in sunset lighting and red, square pillars towering over the space. Utena, looking tiny, runs further into the place.]

[Image id: gif showing a top down view of a long monochromatic corridor with chessboard pattern that Madoka, a mere pink dot in the screen, crosses running. The corridor is right in the middle of the screen and surrounded by different equally black and white mandalas that turn slightly.]

We get panoramic overhead shots emphasizing the disorienting, geometrical maze and the impotence of our heroines' tiny figure against them.

Before reaching their destination, they both cross a stairs-bridges of sorts; Utena, towards the dueling arena where Anthy waits for her to continue the dueling cycle with Utena as champion; Madoka, towards the foyer where she can find her exit to where Homura is struggling against another hopeless, fighting cycle, one which Madoka choses to perpetuate when making a contract with Kyubey…

[Image ids:

The image to the left shows shows a stich of two Adolescence of Utena's screenshots: the one on top showing Utena crossing a bridge; due the top down angle and the inclination of the bridge, the planks on the bridge look like stairwells. The image on the bottom shows Utena crossing the bridge against the creamy, pinkish sunset sky. The bridge railing is shown a black silhoutte in the foreground.

The image to the right is a stich of two monocrohmatic Madoka Magika episode one screenshots: the on the the top shows Madoka crossing a corridor, the foreground is dominated by abstract geometric shapes. The one on the bottom shows Madoka going up an ample stair well, and the surrounding walls have a similar geometric patterning.]

Absolute Reality.

[Image id: Predominantly black and white screenshot showing a dark tree on the foreground and black debri flyaing around. A little to the right of the middle line stands Madoka, with Kyubey sitting on top of some fallen pillar. The subtittles are Madoka's dialogue and read: "Can I really do something to help?"]

The offer that tempts Madoka into a contract is the promise of agency. She can’t stand the reality where there is nothing she can do, thus it's the promise she does actually have power to influence the narrative and help others and stop their suffering what Kyubey dangles in front of her. Madoka feels deeply moved by the pain of others and has a strong empathetic response that makes it very easy for her to be preyed upon by our resident ugly cat here. It’s detrimental to her. Maybe Homura has a point in reversing her wish to be the divine embodiment of Goodness. 

It’s then interesting that she expresses disappointment upon waking up not only in the premiere but in episode 02, as well. Her waking up animation might as well become bank during this introductory arc (I’m betting it does, can’t wait to be wrong). When confronted with the thought the world her senpai Mami introduced to her, one of great danger but also apparently fulfilling and actualizing, might be nothing but an illusion, Madoka expresses disappointment. Even though she has a happy, easygoing life full of friends and family that love her and that she loves in return, there is something else she is looking for.

Confronting your own humble plainness again.

[Image id: Screenshot of Madoka's room dimly lit. Madoka is drawn towards the bottom left edge, hunching and hugging her huge body plush with a beleagered expression.]

Appearances, facades.

Trained confidence. 

[Image id: Screenshot showing makeup labelled with numbers, as if to indicate the order of steps.]

Following Madoka’s "dream", we learn about her homelife anchored around her interactions with her mother as they talk about the love lives of the people around Madoka, contrasted to Madoka's own assertion that no one has an eye on her. Their whole bathroom conversation could be characterized as "girl talk": they go on about love and the need to maintain an appealing image as means to reach it. I could easily accuse this scene of being sexist (and it did rub me the wrong way initially), but the dialogue is naturalistic enough to paint a trusting, warm bond between mother and daughter; plus the repetition of the make-up motif in the second episode while interspersed with Mami's explanation draws attention to themes of appearance and desire.

A remark that can easily be taken as reinforcing gender essentialism lol

[Image id: Screenshot showing the sinks at the foreground barely visible at the bottom edge, with Madoka and her mother in front of them. Madoka is holding her red ribbons with her left hand hesitantly, while her mother has her hands over her hips, talkig matter-of-factly: "A woman's appearance is the one thing she can't afford to get looked down at."]

The contrast in the way mother and daughter carry themselves is apparent. When Madoka relays her reports about her homeroom teacher's love life, her more experienced mother offers keen observations about the possible state of the relationship. Where Madoka takes things at face value, her mother can see deeper. The same applies to the image they project to the world— where her mother has a set (numbered) method to achieve her ideal image, Madoka fumbles and fusses about her ribbon choice and not being seen as too much. The frame pan showcasing the end result has Madoka standing timidly with her hands folded over her lap and her back reflection shown in three different angles in the background mirrors, as if she's being thoroughly scrutinized. While her mother confidently observes her reflection in the mirror, Madoka shrinks at being observed.

[Image id: Screenshot showing Madoka in the middle with a dopey and hesitant expression and her arms drawn close. Her reflections are shown in the mirrors in the background.]

I can't say that Madoka’s self-confidence is worryingly low given what we’ve been presented with—while she lacks the self-assurance her mother possesses, she doesn’t seem particularly self-deprecating. While her affirmation that no one looks her way reflects that self-consciousness, Madoka doesn't further put herself down. Instead, it could simply be that she's a teenager only now discovering her identity, what she's comfortable with, what she wants and what place can she carve for herself in this world. Her mother advises her to train the image and behaviors of someone confident as a first step to grow more certain of herself. The scene places emphasis on the process of purposefully building the image you project, which becomes relevant as episode two's layouts play with a reflection motif around talks of desire. 

While thinking back on Kyubey’s proposal of granting them one wish in exchange of risking their lives, Madoka ponders about what she wants. Her waffling contrasts to her mother’s immediate, cutting  response concerning pragmatic concerns from her work life when Madoka echoes the question to her. Although, of course, her mother lacks the whole context that makes the decision heightened, Madoka’s roof talk with Kyubey and Sayaka reinforces that there isn’t anything she wishes for that strongly. Yet. 

Additionally, when Madoka proposes a bigger ambition to her mother (“Wouldn’t you rather become CEO yourself?”), the image her mother projects into the mirror changes drastically into a more fierce and dangerous look, complete with the repetition of her labeled make-up symbol. This ties a connection between the image people project and what they desire. And just like Madoka has a rather inhibited persona, so do her desires appear mild.

This takes us to Mami, their helpful senpai.

A slightly distorted image seen from below the glass table totally screams trustworthy.

[Image ID: Screenshot of Mami drawn in a low angle, showing her sitting with her legs neatly folded under her backside and her hands resting on her lap. Despite the sunset light filtering through the windows, she's very dimly lit. Most of her image, from the waist up, is shown slightly distorted as its filtered through the glass of the table. The table legs curve outwards and frame her the image in a strange way. The subtitles present her offer: "You should see for yourself what it's like to do battle with witches."]

Knowing the spoilers that Homura is trying to save Madoka from death via time loops and preventing her from forming a contract with Kyubey has an interesting effect— that is, it casts suspicion over other characters. Mami is the helpful senpai that shows up in the nick of time to save them from the witch, heals Kyubey, explains the situation to them and even promises to protect them from Homura at school. She also offers to show them the fieldwork so they can make up their mind about whether to become contracted! The earlier, careful portrayal around purposeful appearances and the reflection motif repeating during their talk can’t be coincidence. Clearly, she wants to be seen as someone who’s dependable, and whether this has more sinister implications or is stemming from personal wishes is unclear to me yet. Mami feels more like Kyubey’s sales associate than anything else. “You can come observe” it’s the pitch you give someone unsure whether to join a club so you can lure them further in. She’s encouraging them to take on a responsibility that can have rather grim outcomes, despite her early assertion that magical girls don’t necessarily work together to reap the rewards of fighting witches—a statement that further reinforces the narrative of Homura as an antagonistic force to our young heroines. Mami either is very upstanding and thinks it’s a duty they should take on since they were chosen or there is something deeply fishy going on here.

For all intents and purposes, Mami is a completely separate entity to our young heroines, not unlike Homura. She’s the one who’s a magical girl already, they’re the uninitiated. They sit on the same side of the table, opposite to her. This shot emphasizes their separation through the black leg of that foreground furniture.

There’s clearly a lot we don’t know about her.

[Image id: screenshot showing Mami's living room. There's sunset light still filtering in, but the room is mostly dimly lit. Mami is on the side of the wall, so she's in the shade. They're sitting at the table, Madoka and Sayaka together on the same side and visually opposite to Mami. The black legs of a furniture are shown in the foreground, creating a strong visual barrier between Mami and her juniors.]

Isn’t it just so fun how this reflection shot obscures her face? Like she’s covering it with her hands in sorrow. Seems charged that it coincides with her explanation about witches causing suicide and murder, does she know of someone who was a victim of them? OR better yet, someone who became One?

I know that magical girls become witches in this series, which also poses interesting possibilities…

[Image id: Screenshot showing Mami's lap with her hands resting on top of it as she sits in front of the table. Because of the top angle, the reflection of her face shows dimly on the glass table. Her face overlaps her hands. The subtitles read: Many of the inexplicable suivides and murders that occur..."]

Are my suspicions on Mami’s intentions totally off-mark? I have no idea, but it’s incredibly fun to doubt her  lol

Speaking of despair lore, I usually raise my eyebrow—think it’s full of shit— when there’s worldbuilding that links suicide and violence to supernatural entities; it’s a run-of-the-mill battle shonen explanation, Noragami also uses it with Ayakashi as amalgamation of negative feelings and energy from the people of the places they haunt. Now, this could still work on an allegorical sense of how oppressive environments lead to such emotional outcomes, since most stories don’t engage with the structural causes of such problems… It can be that, or end up attributing a metaphysical cause as the source of all darkness without even so much extending understanding and sympathy to the people who suffer from it. Where does Madoka Magica fall, I wonder…

Blessed fools.

A pained smile framed behind by bars, a surefire sign that someone isn’t totally trapped. 

[Image ID: Screenshot showing Sakaya's back with her face turned in profile towards the right. She's smiling ambigously and her right hand is holding to the white chain wall that dominates the background against the bright daylight sky. The subtittles read: "Well... Maybe the pair of us are just fools?"]

Given our young heroines lack of direction, ardent ambitions or anguishing desires, Sayaka muses that perhaps the fact they don’t have anything they’d die for is a sign they’re blessed fools. This rings true for Madoka. She’s a happy kid with a supportive family and friends. Despite her longing for something more—her own agency? confidence? Romantic love?—, there doesn’t seem to be anything that is making her actively miserable. Her mild adolescent ennui is not necessarily something pernicious and would’ve likely resolved itself as she experienced and tackled more challenges in her life with the guidance and support of her family. This whole business paints more ill-fated for her (and I mean, I know it is. What a tragedy, hers).

But is this true for Sayaka? This brief shot with its ominous red sky and its bedridden figure shrouded in darkness begs to differ… The fact she feels guilty over being chosen, thinking there’s people who’d make use of a miracle much better than them makes me think it’s rather someone she knows… Is this her motivation to get into Kyubey’s magical girl agency? I don’t have a lot to go by…

[Image ID: Screenshot representing a short-haired person in bed shown facing right . Most of the shapes are represented as black silhouttes, sans the translucent curtains and the ominous red sky framed by the window. The subtittles read "We've been so blessed.."]

Sayaka and homoeroticism.

Welcome back, Shinohara Wakaba. 

[Image id: Screenshot showing Madoka, Sayaka and their irrelevant friend Hitomi at the park. Sayaka is hugging a slouching Madoka from the back, saying "You must be my bride, Madoka!".]

The Girl Talk in episode one continues as we follow Madoka’s commute to school with her two friends: the blue one, the to-be Magical Girl, Sayaka and this one random girl that I'm surprised it's even there. The banter and physicality to Sayaka and Madoka’s interactions is fun and warm, selling their chemistry as friends. And near the end, Sayaka playfully proclaims Madoka must be with her, which immediately brought to mind Revolutionary Girl Utena’s Shinohara Wakaba's own ambiguous, very physically affectionate date-play with Utena. 

Rather than being a maiden in the sidelines, however, Sayaka is positioned as Madoka’s protector against Homura. Given Homura is fighting to be Madoka’s silent protector herself, this is unbelievably funny to me. When Madoka finds Homura's staring off-putting during P.E., she hides behind Sayaka. When Madoka— with Kyubey in her arms— is alone facing the inscrutable, darkness-shrouded, threatening Homura, the one who shows up to save her is Sayaka. When they're alone within the creepy labyrinth, Sayaka protectively embraces Madoka. When Madoka is worried that Homura might try to attack them at school, Sayaka offers to punch Homura. This antagonistic placing of Madoka's two protectors is hilarious, and I'm curious to see if the dynamic fizzles out as we delve into Sayaka's innermost wishes and struggles or if the tension will boil over into something interesting.

'Get behind me, Madoka! I got the fire extinguisher!' 

Such a hilarious way to break the tension.

[Image id: Screenshot showing Madoka and Sayaka in a dark parking lot, with most of the background shrouded in shadows. Sayaka is holding a fire extinguisher that she's shooting towards the left, and Madoka stands behind her, holding Kyubey.]

Even their sitting order in class positions Madoka behind Sayaka lmao Does Sayaka have a thing for Madoka or just a hero complex? 

[Image ID: Screenshot showing Madoka and Sayaka sitting in their classrooom. Sayaka is shown sitting a row in front of Madoka, a column to the left. Madoka is holding Kyubey in her arms. The subtittles read: "If she tries anything on you, I'll punch her lights out!"]

The show acknowledges the homoeroticism between the two in a tongue-in-cheek manner during their commute in episode 2, when their normie friend feels put off by the apparent intimacy of their silent (telepathic) communication:

"You've been staring so intently into each other's eyes… What on earth did you do after I left yesterday?!"

This girl is too homophobic to become a magical girl, smh. 

[Image ID: Screenshot showing Sayaka, Madoka and their friend Hitomi drawn in profile at the park. Sayaka and Madoka are positioned on the left side of the screen, with a tree in the background subtly serving as visual barrier between Madoka and Sayaka. Madoka is slouched and halfheartedly reaching to Hitomi. Hitomi is positioned on the right side of the screen, with her hand to her heart and running towards the left. Her dialogue reads: "Don't you see that it's a love that can never beeee?!"]

Madoka points out that their normie friend's remarks sound a lot like what Sayaka tells to her on a regular basis, lending credence to my Wakaba comparison lol This gag could simply be an acknowledgement of the charged homoeroticism present in the series, but it still amuses me so far a lot of it has circled around Sayaka and Madoka. 

Akemi Homura

Her soundless, despaired scream as she catches sight of Madoka with Kyubey was so cinematic ❤️

[Image id: gif showing a zoom out of Homura's face as she screams. She's resting on a tree branch that's represented as a black silhouette, with debris floating around represented in the same way.]

Speaking of homoeroticism, it's time to talk about Homura. I actually felt a little sad that I already know about her motivations because she's so incredibly off-putting, I'd have had a lot of fun speculating about the meaning of her actions, the way she's framed and the meticulous way her micro expressions are portrayed. However, it's not like there isn't still some room to have fun reading into them. She enters the picture via the classic transfer student trope. From her introduction alone, she creates an awkward atmosphere with the way the standoffish silence lingers due her laconicism. 

Despite her aloof demeanor, and in pure transfer-student fashion, Homura still stands out both in academics and physical feats (she even breaks the regional high jump record lol!); as such garners the attention of her peers. Nonetheless, she couldn't be more uninterested in them, as the one she can't keep her eyes off is Madoka. Her taciturn, blank-faced and cutting demeanor can paint her staring as downright aggressive. This is further reinforced by being color coded with the darkest values in the cast so far: black and purple are her signature colors, classic villain palette. 

Her conversation with Madoka as she rehashes the "could you show me where the infirmary is" routine is the big standout of hers in episode one —the tropey nature of this encounter makes it very easy to imagine how their first interactions went down the first time—. The low angle that emphasizes her head tilt and the accentuated shadows on her face and body make her look haughty and intimidating.

She's literally staring down Madoka lol Worth noting this same framing is repeated as she warns Madoka in a few minutes, complete with rotating animation for gravitas, contributing to Homura's bad vibes. 

[Image ID: Screenshot showing Homura's face and shoulders slightly turned to the right side of the screen. The right side of her face is heavily shadowed and so are her shoulders. She's looking down on the viewer. Her dialogue reads: "May I ask you to accompany me?"]

While one could think that the reason she approached Madoka was to issue her warning, I'm actually not that certain. It could be due the way her anguished reactions to being around Madoka make her look quite erratic as she tortures herself with these distorted echoes of her memories—but I also have to point out the abrupt way she brings the interaction to a halt, stomping and suddenly turning. The way she behaves through the whole interaction feels quite impulsive, which gave me the impression of Homura purposefully trying to recreate the past (whether out of indulgence or to torture herself, I'm not really sure).

It's really fun the way this obscured close-up to her profile hiding her eyes— making it difficult to parse her emotions— paired to how the next highlighted extreme close-ups have her clenching her teeth led credence to the "Homura is a hostile party" narrative. Personally, the timing is what gets me. She reacts deeply upset to the fact Madoka politely yet impersonally addresses her as "Akemi-san" lol This girl was in the trenches. 

[Image ID: Screenshot showing Homura's shadowed profile facing left. She is holding her face up, seemingly imperious and her mouth is tightly shut.]

The way the timing makes it seem like she's really pissed at Madoka’s remark that her name is weird + subsequent fumbling is very funny lol I wouldn't say she's not upset from it, but mostly in the "it's painful to be around you" way. 

[Image ID: Screenshot showing a extreme close up to Homura's clenched mouth, as she lowers her face. There's heavy shading on the left side of her face and lens flare coming from the right side of her face.]

There's a lot of natural verticals in the panels of their classrooms and the windows they transverse that create visual divisions between the two. I found it particularly noteworthy that while there's a natural sense of distance and awkwardness between the them, Homura is the one who accentuates it and fully brings herself to the other side of the threshold when she suddenly skips forward ahead from Madoka. The idea she's intentionally cultivating a distance between the two is very intriguing and appealing…

[Image ID: Screenshot showing Homura and Madoka facing left as they walk through the corridor with blue window panes. There's a particular wide vertical division in between Madoka and Homura, placed more or less in the middle of the screen. Homura is on the left side of the screen, but closer to the blue vertical division. Madoka is falling behind, with more white space between her and the middle.]

Their sitting order reinforces this idea, situating Homura all the way to the front, completely out of reach. 

[Image ID: Screenshot showing Homura sitting in the front row, looking back at Madoka's seat.]

They look fully at odds with each other thanks to the high contrast between the bright windows and the shaded frames. The dark values to their visual barriers fully bring out the tension brought by Homura's sudden halt-and-turn as she issues her warning. Homura is framed as thoroughly oppositional to Madoka, and she herself doesn't bother to correct any misunderstandings. It's pretty interesting she's fine with being vilified if it might grant her any slight chance to get what she wants.

[Image ID: screenshot showing Homura and Madoka drawn in a symmetrical composition, separated visually by the regular window panes. Homura is drawn towards the left edge of the screen, facing right and standing imperiously. Madoka is drawn on the right side of the screen, towards the edge as well, slightly slouched and in a timid pose. Subtittles show Madoka's dialogue: "Yes, really! I couldn't lie about that."]

Homura's dead-eyed ominous warning vs Mami's personable, smiling offer of support, fight!  But this is truly why I can't trust Mami lol Should you really be tacitly encouraging them, Yellow Senpai? A cutting warning really seems more befitting here…

[Image ID: Extreme close up to Homura's blank left eye with the right side of her face being heavily shaded. The subtittles read: "Because if you do, you will end up losing all of those things.]  

Odd ends. 

There's a lot of small gestures that really bring out charm to the interactions and feelings, but if I pointed out absolutely everything, I'd never finish this lol 

There's one thing from the Madoka-wakes-up Bank I do want to point out, though: the odd feeling Madoka’s head turn with the hard shading gives me. Now, I know it's a Shaft™ thing, I've watched another TV series directed by Shinbo that was produced there and I've heard of it. But I still find the timing peculiar— after the opening sequence with her running to the rooftop in episode one and the brief recap with Mami's transformation in the second, just before she wakes up. Of course, this reinforces that sense of being at the verge of waking up from an odd dream, which Madoka fully believes, but it can also get a sense of deja vu. Typically, one would assume that Madoka’s run towards the rooftop is a glimpse to an event that will happen later down the line. But given the nature of this being a time loop and Homura's insistence on preventing Madoka’s death via preventing her contract altogether, which it's implied to happen in that sequence, I don't think there isn't any reason to think that it's not something that didn't already happen. If this ends up being the case, I'm curious how that'd affect further loops.

Tell me your secrets, you pink little one. 

[Screenshot showing a extreme close up to Madoka's eyes facing towards the left. Her face is drawn almost facing front, leaning towards the right. There's heavy shading on her face and a black background.]

Expectations for the rest of the introductory arc:

-Second half of episode 2 will end in a cliffhanger that'll destabilize routine while they fight a new witch. 

-Said cliffhanger will involve Mami (I HOPE IT DOES). I'm suspicious of her and hope she does something terrible, but I think it's equally, if not more, likely that something terrible happens to Her lol

-🤷🏻‍♂️

Hmm that's it. I'm not very good at imagining scenarios lol 

I'm also half-expecting to be wrong about nothing making Madoka miserable, mostly because I've been obsessing over Takamachi Nanoha, another seemingly well-loved, normal kid who turned out to have Important Baggage lol

[kaga-ribi-612]

Oh… you seem very… very… interesting…♪

Full name: Jördis Kagari

Nickname: Courtney*

Age: 38

Birthday: 6th of December

* The nickname Courtney was given to her by some members of Team Magma, the motives behind that nicknaming are unknown

I like to… observe… and analyse. And… of course… be helpful to leader Marc and Lis…

I’ve seen… the other me‘s… you are interesting… ♪

OOC & Lore/Infodump down below (I may add stuff in the future)

//OOC - About this Courtney:

Hi, I’m @starlightcosmos04245 and I’m playing this Courtney as well as her universes Maxie (@matsubusa-m) and my OC Lizzy (@ematsubusa).

This Courtney, her name is Jördis (from the personification of earth in Norse mythology, Jörð), is from the same universe as my Maxie (aka Marc) and therefore from many years into the future. She still works for the reformed Team Magma. She’s a researcher and very observant. In comparison to other Courtneys in the multiverse, though, Jördis is a lot calmer. Although she can always explode if provoked. Aside from that, she loves to share pictures of Marc and his family. She’s a little leaker, when it comes to that point. To some members of Team Magma of this universe, she’s like a strange older sister.

She is bisexual and currently in a romantic relationship with Team Aqua’s biggest puppy - Matt.

♪

//OOC - About this blogs boundaries:

I, personally, am usually very open about everything. Though I have to admit I’m very shy and get nervous easily… so sorry for that. I’m happy though to be included in everything happening ^^

(I maybe disappear sometimes for some time due to mental health reasons or just stuff in my life happening. We all need breaks sometimes ^^; )

I’m okay with ic anon hate, poke fun at Jördis. Tease her, or just joke with her. She will be responding accordingly. Also, feel free to ask her any questions. If they’re too extreme, though, I’ll ignore them (fyi). I also won’t condone any ooc hate. It’s inappropriate. This is a RP-Blog, after all. We’re all here to have some fun :)

♪

Heads up, there will be my headcanons and lore for her following! ^^

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

HEADCANONS / LORE

Like I already mentioned, Jördis and the others live in a future many years after the events of ORAS.

After Team Aqua and Team Magma made peace, the teams started to hang out together more. That’s when she started to actually notice Matt. His puppy-like energy and his whole personality overall scratched her curious brain just right… so she put herself together and became friends with him. After some time, they started dating and eventually had a son shortly after Marc and Lis had their fraternal twin sons.

(Sorry, I’ve been a sucker for Betaadminshipping ever since I saw Chip‘s Fanart for them σ^_^; )

Speaking of relationships, she is on very good terms with Lizzy, Marc’s wife. They are as close as sisters, often hanging out, going out to the arcades together, etc.

Marc is her mentor, her role model, and kind of like a father to her after she ran away from home.

Her parents were abusive of her, so she ran away at 11 years old and found shelter at the newly formed Team Magma. Marc saw her potential and decided to take care of her until she can care for herself (which is also why she seems a little obsessive about Marc sometimes. She feels grateful towards him and it’s her way of showing). Thus, she brought her bright, clever mind into his plans and quickly climbed up the ranks. She was there before Homura (aka Tabitha), wo joined shortly after her.

Homura is her best friend and somewhat of an older brother-figure. She knows she’s not good with people, so he takes care of most of the people-oriented things within Team Magma for her.

Jördis likes to take pictures. Not just of Marc and his family, but also of landscapes, Pokémon… basically anything. She likes to collect as many memories as possible like this.

She also likes to play video games. She’s a regular customer of the arcade in Mauville. The owner of the arcade is afraid of her. Not only because of her somewhat unnerving stare but also because she’s impudently talented at the claw-machines. Her room is filled with Pokémon plushies she won there.

Jördis is half icelandic half japanese. Her mother is from Sinnoh, her father from the Pokémon-worlds equivalent to Iceland (if someone has a fan region based on iceland, please tell me). She was born and raised in Sinnoh until she ran away from home.

She likes Vocaloid music. A singing computer program… that scratches her brain just right and intrigues her. Her favourite Vocaloid is Megpoid Gumi.

Aside from that, she also often listens to J-Pop, J-Rock or the things Marc likes.

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

If you read through all this, again, thank you very much! I hope you have fun with her ^^

[broncoburro]

it made me really happy to know that you also like the ginga series. i swear its such a small fandom!!

Yep, I love Silver Fang! It's one of the first anime I ever watched.

At the time, I'd rarely seen portrayals of how intimidating and bleak that sort of winter wilderness and weather can feel. I was used to seeing cheery christmas-type scenes. The anime, with its moody synth soundtrack and contrast of dark black alpine forest, white snow, and blood just kind of felt "right".

I'm from a part of my country barely north enough where the winters juuuust start getting what you can call "sucky". (Though I'm sure 80% of the rest of Canada would laugh at me for saying that.) My immediate family didn't own a car. A lot of my childhood was walking to school, or stores, or friends' houses through the worst weather my area had to offer. Winter is half the year, and with it always came a few weeks in the -30s, and life didn't stop during that. You still had to go get groceries or go to school.

And when I was in a car for occasional longer travel (usually further north), the landscape felt uninhabited, harsh, and frightening to my child self. Sometimes I'd pretend to see the anime dogs running outside the window. (Of course as an adult... these same areas I traveled through are VERY inhabited and fascinating places, but it's scary as a child to be able to drive 3 or 4 hours without seeing almost any towns!)

The art in the manga was especially inspirational.

I'm a sucker for heavy blacks and the contrast of that with stark whites or a bold color like red. And I'm sure some of the influence is visible in my own art and choice in story setting.

...All that to say, yes. Ginga Nagareboshi Gin was formative media for me. I don't much care for Ginga Densetsu Weed or the following mangas, but GNG holds a special place in my heart.

[peachii-nitenite]

Whipped Into Shape- Chapter 1 Muse and Maestro

summary: you reminisce about your beautiful friend, and she reminisces about you in return.

Mel x Reader Centric Chapter

chapter contents: mutual pining, fluff

fic masterlist

ao3 link

◈—-*——☆——-*——◈

Now Playing: She- Dodie

◈—-*——☆——-*——◈

You met Mel for the first time in your first year, second semester Art Basics class, when you had been paired together for a warmup sketch exercise. 

And she was the most beautiful girl you’d seen in your life. Blindingly so, like the sun, like a star-

Like a Muse.

When you broke free from your trance of admiration, you plucked up the courage to stiffly introduce yourself. When she smiled, you briefly thought you had finally died of exhaustion and met a real life angel. She laughed prettily too.

It was hard not to stare. Not when she was exactly the kind of girl that sparked inspiration.

There were murmurs, eyes from around the room flickering towards her. It wasn’t the same sort of look you usually got, not in the slightest. There was awe, admiration, disbelief- but nothing blatantly negative.

You could tell right then and there she was someone important, even before she graced you with an introduction.

“I’m Mel, Mel Medarda. So…shall we get started?”

Her voice was smooth, warm, accented, and had no hint of malice or apprehension. It was more like she was assessing you, rather than judging you.

You liked that about her.

And she liked that you treated her like a normal person. You weren’t awestruck by her family name or who she was related to, you were simply in awe at her as a person. An individual. A peer.

You were equals as artists, and you were shocked to learn it wasn't her major after seeing the quality of her still-life sketches. She preferred painting landscapes, backgrounds, and design plates.

 “I find faces oddly difficult…so my models never have proper heads-” she giggled after showing you her sketchbook. Fashion design was her minor, her “indulgence”, she called it.

You smiled and admired her work with starry eyes.

“Maybe we should work together then!” you pulled out your own sketchbook for her to page through. 

You give her an eager grin. 

 “I’ll admit, my weak spot has always been landscapes…” 

You hit it off quickly, becoming more relaxed and comfortable as you chatted your way through the warm up. Despite her elegant and regal bearing, you found out she was much more nonchalant than you expected- after all, she was basically a princess, and such a weighty legacy would stress anyone out. You would talk for hours swapping stories, talking about the way you see the world, about your creative pursuits, about your dreams-

About anything and everything you could think of- the conversation always came easy with her. And it was intensely refreshing to talk to someone who wasn't speaking to you strictly out of necessity or courtesy for once. You could be yourself, and that meant everything to you when it came to your friendships.

People often called her mysterious, or hard to read. Those people didn't know her.

Sketches of her littered your sketchbooks; of the face she made when she was trying not to laugh, of the face she made when she was focusing on fine details- endless doodles of her enigmatic eyes. She was easy to read when you really knew her. She preferred gold over silver, warm tones over cool tones, and detested the feeling of charcoal pastels. She was mischievous, a sucker for gossip, easily grossed out by insects-

And you found that the two of you were very alike.

She was a princess- sure, but she was always a Person first to you.

And that's what she loved about you. You were her reprieve from the weight of the expectations placed upon her. She made sure to tell you frequently.

She often found the Piltover elite tiresome, vapid, and endlessly boring. You were a breath of fresh air, as she had told you during a wine drunk night of gossip.

“Tell me, are they all… like that?” she whispered as you lounged in your tiny living room

“Are all who like what?” you looked up from your near empty glass with a quizzical brow

“The Piltovans. Are all of them so hopelessly dull or is it just the ones that I have to see every day?”

You snorted as you took another sip, moving to refill her glass as well.

“I ask myself the same thing almost every day, thank god I'm not the only one!”

She shot you a catlike grin, conspiratorial and satisfied as she clinked her glass against yours.

She was elegant in every way. She was everything you wished you could be.

You’d be envious if you didn’t enjoy her company so much. Or the special feeling of knowing that, as important as she was, she had chosen you to be friends with.

It meant a lot to you.

So despite the gap between you, it wasn’t jealousy that filled you when you spent time together. Just pure admiration.

She was simultaneously very close to you, but seemingly always a hair out of reach.

Like a muse.

You couldn't wait for her to come back.

Not when you had such big plans for this school year.

A new philosophy-

“Take Chances, Take Opportunities, and Take No Shit”

It was the sort of thing that would make her chuckle if you said it out loud.

Sometimes, you got bashful when you remembered just how astounding the few friends you had were. It made you feel so….normal in comparison. And growing up with so many expectations on your shoulders, it actually did more help than harm to your self esteem.

You were surrounded by gleaming, unreachable stars. But you were happy just to see them.

Your fond reverie was interrupted by the sound of the bus screeching to a halt, jostling you in your seat. 

You took out your earbud to assess the situation. The driver was cursing loudly as he laid a heavy hand on the horn. Some idiot had run a red light and clipped the front driver’s side of the bus. You looked at the time on your phone and sighed in despair. Judging by the familiar street you were on, you weren't too far from campus. But if you lingered, or tried your chances catching the shuttle, you would probably be late. 

Your best bet was to run.

Aw hell. 

It was gonna be a rough day.

You texted Mel, getting up and settling your school bag on your shoulder.

—-

Messages: Mel✨👑

                                                               You: Pray for me. It's gonna be a long week…

—

Across the sea, your muse smiled sympathetically at her phone as she texted you back under the table. Anything you had to say would be vastly more interesting than whatever the mouldy old politician schmoozing up to her mother was currently spouting.

You. One of her dearest friends. Who she admired so dearly.

You were like the wind on the beach- free, clean, and fresh in comparison to the stale air of old mansions and stuffy networking events.

She wondered how your eyes would light up when she came back, and furthermore when she showed you the new pieces she had been working on.

Especially the fact that she had been practicing how to draw faces better.

Starting with yours.

“—But of course, her studies do come first, but I’m sure she could spare some time, so she and my son could—“

She rolled her eyes discreetly. She was so sick of these false, strategic friendships with the spoiled, vain, grown children of diplomats:

She was one of them, after all. She knew what could lurk beneath the veneer of perfection.

Smile when journalists bark and hound , pose when the cameras probe, and make nice with whoever provides the best optics at the moment.

It was exhausting.

She had seen the article about you before you had met. She often kept up with the local news of the places she visited for long stretches of time.

Your art caught her eye before your picture did.

There was something so dynamic, and passionate about it, even simply seeing it secondhand through her phone screen. Like dreams put to page, or like raw emotion finally processed.

Flawed, real; human, above all else.

She became something of a fan, rather quickly.

When she said she was pleased to meet you, after having met the intriguing artist in the flesh— it was one of the rare times that semester she had said it to someone and actually meant it.

In you she had found her very own, real, friend.

She kept that to herself, almost out of a fear that something or someone would keep you away if she were too open about it. After all, her status did come with burdens she’d never want you to shoulder.

But never in her life did she think she would yearn for school so badly.

But here she was. Dreaming of essays and late nights in your dorm living room that was the size of her closet. With no expectations, no facade to uphold.

A greedy part of her wanted to keep those moments all to herself, hidden away from the eyes of the world. To hide away with you for as long as possible in the little bubble of your cozy room.

Just her, her favorite artist, and her own pencil.

A landscape to hold your portraits.

She could not be greedy, and wouldn’t dare interfere with your social habits.

You were like the clean wind of the ocean. She could not harness you, even if she truly desired it.

So close, against her skin; but ultimately out of reach.

She smiled at the old man across the table as she texted you back discreetly, her face unchanging despite her disgust with the old coot’s leering gaze.

“Mel darling, what do you think? I’m sure you and his son would get along quite well” 

Her mother’s scheming tone did not go unnoticed.

Another inevitable photo op. Another political pawn on a chessboard.

She smiled at the old man across the table as she texted you back discreetly, her face unchanging despite her disgust with the old coot’s leering gaze.

“…of course mother, one can never have too many friends…” she responded, coolly and with her usually elegant flair as she hit send on her message.

——

Messages: Maestro💛🎨

Mel✨👑: I will💛 I may need some prayers from you as well 🫠💫

—------------

[reinxxoi]

𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝓊𝑒

𝕎𝕙𝕠 𝕂𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕚𝕡𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕣?

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ๋࣭݁ ⭑🪩๋࣭ ⭑. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The Long And Winding Road The Beatles

“the long and winding road

that leads to your door.

Will never disappear.

I’ve seen that road before.”

𐙚°🥂⋆.ೃ🪩*•°🥂⋆.ೃ🪩*•♡☾‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧

Me and Mark had a lot of history. He’s the one who metaphorically pulled me out of the hole that is addiction. That night he met me in the bar I was wasted and up to my eyeballs in debt but he paid my debts and set me straight. It’s thanks to him that I have my current job as a detective. Despite how close we are it did come as a shock to me that I received an invitation to poker night at Markiplier Manor.

I hopped into my 1974 Plymouth Satellite and began driving. I had no clue what to expect, it had been awhile since I played poker. Gambling is the reason I went so deep into debt, tonight would really test my sobriety. Turning on the radio The Long And Winding Road by The Beatles came on and I found myself humming along to the tune. I was big into The Beatles, pretty mainstream of me right? But what can I say? I’m a sucker for Beatlemania.

Passing by the portrait-esque landscape got me thinking deeply about the upcoming party. I pondered what the purpose of this party could be, I’m sure Mark had some cause for celebration. He always was one for the flamboyant aspects of life and yet he was also someone who struggled so much. To be honest I admired him deeply, my infatuation with him only grew stronger with each meeting I had with him. There’s something so charming about him, may it be the charisma or otherwise… Regardless, my attraction to him couldn’t be denied. I just hoped that I would get the chance to confess these feelings I had for him…

I finally pulled into the long drive, parking my car next to a 1976 black Cadillac Eldorado. It was a nice looking car, must’ve been bought pretty recently. Whoever drives this must be pretty well off. I stepped out of my car, staring up at the large manor in front of me. Outstanding was an understatement to say the least. This manor was straight from a movie. Looking at my invitation one last time, I inhaled the crisp morning air and headed inside.

“Why hello, invitation please?” An attractive man greeted me at the door… His attire, he must be The Butler.

“Ah, right.” I brought myself back to reality, handing him the invitation.

“Right this way, I shall fetch you a drink.” He smiled charmingly.

“No need, I don’t drink.” I responded dismissively. I don’t even need the temptation of alcohol, I know how I get when I start down that path.

The Butler shrugged and walked off.

“Abe!!” I heard a familiar voice. Turning, I see that it’s Mark walking towards me. His red silk robe complimented his muscular build so well. “It’s been too long, old friend!” He firmly shakes my hand.

“Truly.” I agreed. “You know, I was surprised by the sudden invitation. Do you have cause for such a celebration?” I inquired.

“Yes, yes! This shall be the celebration of the decade! Mayhaps, even the century!” He smiled so brightly, it put all my worries at ease. “Oh yes, I should introduce you to my good friend Damien! Right this way!” Mark led me into the manor, there stood yet another very attractive man in a nice suit and cane… I recognized him. “Abe, this is Damien, The Mayor.” He introduced us. “I’ll leave you two to entertain each other, I have other matters to attend to!” And with that he left us alone.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” I extend my hand for a greeting.

“Pleasure’s all mine, good sir.” He takes my hand, shaking it warmly.

“So how do you know Mark?” Damien asked me with genuine curiosity.

“It’s quite the long story and I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details, I’m sure you’re a busy man.” I dismiss the question politely.

“Oh please, we’ve got time! The Colonel hasn’t even shown yet… and who knows if he will.” Damien’s voice trailed off as his gaze fell elsewhere.

“If you insist…” I pause, trying to figure out whether or not I should tell The Mayor of my struggles with addiction.

“I do!” He eagerly interjects.

As I go on explaining my tale of woes to Damien I notice the door open and a surprisingly handsome and/or beautiful person enters, handing The Butler an invitation.

“Oh them?” Damien asks. “That’s The DA, and my old college buddy.”

“How nice…” I respond blankly. I was caught up with the person behind them. he wore a safari uniform… this must be The Colonel.

“Oh here they come! I must attend to this, pardon me.” Damien smiles softly, clearly allowing me to investigate this strange man.

I approach him cautiously, he was shockingly attractive. Under that helmet I knew he would be quite the gentleman.

“Can I help you?” He asks coldly, a stark contrast to the manner in which I expected from him.

“Perhaps you could, I’m Abe.” I extend my hand for a greeting.

“My friends call me The Colonel.” He grips my hand tightly. “I assume you shall call me the same by the end of the night.” He grins pompously.

“How long have you known Mark?” I inquire.

“Too long, that’s for sure.” He brushes aside the question.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, more curious now than ever.

“We grew up together is what I mean. And it shows.” He left it at that and before I could move on to another one of my many questions, our attention was drawn elsewhere.

“Welcome, welcome, one and all. My name is Markiplier, thank you for joining me on this auspicious evening.” Mark began to descend the stairs, stopping briefly to continue his monologue. “So good to be surrounded by such close and trusted friends… Now, this evening, it’s not all about the poker. It’s not all about me. It’s about you. So drink up and be merry! Life is for the living! And who knows? I could be dead tomorrow.” At that last statement he begins laughing uncontrollably. I was understandably caught off-guard by this but oh well…

We all go into the dining room and begin playing a round of poker, I didn’t want to drink very much due to my past in alcoholism but I figured I should take Mark’s words to heart, life is for the living after all.

We partied hard, The DA perhaps more than others. I didn’t expect someone so handsome and/or beautiful to party like an animal. Everyone was pretty black out drunk… everyone but me and Mark. We only got a little buzzed while everyone else went wild. After most people went to their rooms to crash, me and Mark were left.

The two of us sat on the couch for a moment..

“Quite the party, huh?” Mark smiled sadly.

“It certainly was.” I agreed, matching Mark’s somber expression.

“You know Abe… you’re my best friend” Mark remarked out of the blue.

“Where’s this coming from?” I was a little worried knowing Mark’s mental state..

“I just figured I should start appreciating the small things.” He stared out the window into the deep dark sky.

“Mark, you know you can tell me anything.” I took his hand.

“Abe…” He looked at me suddenly with tears in his eyes. “Not this, I couldn’t possibly tell you this.” Mark looked ashamed, as if he’d done something awful.

“I think you should get some sleep and we can talk it over in the morning, okay?” I pull him into an embrace. “Just sleep, don’t do anything else.” I mutter into his shoulder.

“I promise.” Mark held me tightly… too tightly.

I bid him a good night and started toward my room… I saw Damien carrying The DA back to their own room. I didn’t think much of it and I went into mine, crashing out at 1:16 a.m.

In the morning I woke up at 8:30 to an alarm. I definitely didn’t schedule it; so maybe Mark set it for the next part of his festivities. I got up out of bed and changed into some clean clothes, then I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

As I went through the mundane routines of the morning I began picturing Mark’s face last night… He stared at me as though that would be the last time I see him. I should really talk to him about my feelings, I’m terrified he could do something stupid.

I shook away the thought, I didn’t want to think of the fact that Mark could take his life.. I loved him too much to even consider the notion.

I finished up and headed downstairs, hoping to see Mark awaiting me. As I was headed downstairs I heard lightning strike.

“Did anyone hear that lightning?” I asked aloud to anyone. And then I saw The DA standing next to it…

It lay there cold on the floor… Mark’s dead body.

“OH MY GOD!! THERE’S BEEN A MURDER!” I scream for the whole manor to hear.

I run quickly to Mark’s side, trying to see if he was bleeding, perhaps we could still save him?

“Excuse me, did you hear lightni- OH MY GOD, MURDER!!” The Butler came in, seeing the grisly sight as well.

“Did you- MURDERRRRR!” The Chef screeched upon entering the room.

Each time the ‘M’ word was thrown around lightning would strike… It was almost supernatural.

I couldn’t help but notice how calm The DA appeared. Perhaps this murder had just occurred.

“What the hell happened here?! Who’s in charge around here?!!” I gripped The DA tightly by their collar. “Trick question- that guy. And he’s dead now, which makes ME in charge. So you better listen up good, bucko. ‘Case you haven’t been paying attention, there’s been a bit of a… killin’. ” I narrowed my eyes at them, hoping to scare them into confessing their crime.

There was a long pause, I was kind of hoping for a confession by now. No matter, I’ll just make it even more clear that this handsome and/or beautiful devil and/or angel is on my radar…

“And you’re my prime suspect. So you better get to explaining right quick as to the what, where, when, and why you happen to be here upon this man’s death.” I grill them even further. They seemed shocked by my accusation, perhaps they really didn’t do it..

“Sir, the body is cold… He’s been dead awhile.” The Butler interrupted. I felt my heart sink into my stomach, I felt like I was going to hurl. Was this my fault? Maybe I should’ve stuck by his side last night instead of telling him to sleep it off.

“A likely story… That I happen to believe completely. All right, you’re off the hook for now… But I’m a detective, and-“ Before I could finish my thought The Chef interjected.

“Oh yeah? Prove you’re a real dick!” He spat.

“Here’s my badge, asshole.” I showed him my badge but as I was doing so the photos of my old partners fell out with it.

The DA stared at them intently as if studying each of them individually. I saw their confused expression, they probably wondered how I knew these people.

“Ah, those are my old partners. Don’t ask me about them- Fine! I’ll tell you.” I didn’t leave much room for protest. “Each one of them died. Each death more tragic than the last. A few of them even died in ironically hilarious ways. Which made it all the more tragic” I explained.

The DA and Chef looked at each other in horror. I figured that’s the reaction I’d get, but I don’t need their sympathy or their trust. I’m investigating this murder case and that’s all that matters.

“But hey, you look like you’re up to the task. You’re my new Partner!” The DA shook their head aggressively clearly not wanting to become my temporary Partner. “That’s what all my old partners used to say… Right before they died.” I began to wonder if I may be cursed or perhaps unlucky.

The DA and Chef flashed each other another horrified expression. Specifically The Chef who looked like he had witnessed a murder before his very eyes… I should look into that.

“All right, hand me that finger printing kit behind you, partner.” I held out my hand waiting for them to do as I told them.

They reluctantly help me set up the crime scene, tracing the body, marking evidence, putting tape up. I was quite thankful to not be doing this alone, especially since the guilt from last night was taking over me… I felt awful for dismissing Mark the way I did.

After we set up the scene it was time to investigate..

“Thanks, Partner.” I nodded. I began inspecting the body when I heard footsteps approaching.

“What the hell happened here?” Damien asked, confused by the scene considering I had Mark’s body covered.

“Oh! Mr. Mayor… I’m so sorry, there’s been a murder.” As The Butler explains, lightning strikes.

“A murder?” Damien asks as more lightning strikes. “Who?” He continues with his questions.

“It’s Mark..” The Chef shrugs nonchalantly.

“I’m afraid he’s telling the truth… Mark’s been” I hesitated.. a part of me still didn’t believe it so to say it out loud was like trying to put your hand on a hot stove… realistically you could do it but something in your brain just prevents you from doing so. “…killed.” I finish.

“Why? Who would do this?” Damien didn’t understand any of this and it was clear. I know he’s childhood friends with Mark so this must sting twice as much as it does for me.

“That’s exactly what me and my new Partner are here to find out.” I reassure him. I know that I’ll uncover the truth and get answers to piece together why Mark of all people had to die.

“Um, excuse me. I feel like we should call the authorities for them to handle this matter.” The Butler chimes in.

“Look- Buddy, as far as you’re concerned, I AM the authorities.” I flash my badge at him. “The fact of the matter is… I believe the killer is right here amongst us in this very house.” My mouth moved before my mind did and came to the conclusion.

It shocked everyone else and even me… This night was for Mark’s closest friends so who here would want to kill him? And suddenly I made the connection… the lightning.

“With that freaky lightning storm outside, none of us would get very far anyway.” I concluded. I put my badge back into my pocket. “So in the meantime, we’re stuck here. But I’m gonna get to the bottom of this.” I reassured them.

I have full confidence in my abilities to find the culprit however I have this rookie with me now. I don’t even know why I brought them into this, something about their blue-ish, brown-ish, green-ish, hazel-ish eyes compelled me to do so. There may be hope for them yet, if we can just secure the area then together we’ll find the culprit.

“The rest of you, get back to your rooms, hunker down, and pray to God you’re not next to be murdered.” I firmly ordered everyone as lightning struck outside.

“I’ll… I’ll check on our other guests..” The Butler hesitantly left the room.

“I’ll get back to cooking… All this death made me hungry.” The Chef added, departing from the room.

“I- I need to talk to The Colonel about this.” Damien seemed to know more than he let on. Our first exchange was normal enough but when I met The Colonel… he was different. Damien left hurriedly, The DA staring at them as a lost puppy stares at a bone...

“All right Partner.” I brought them back to the reality of this tragedy. “It’s time to get to work. Judging by the temperature of the body that I measured rectally. Um, which is obviously the most accurate way to get the inner body temperature of a corpse… That’s a fact- totally procedure! Don’t tell anyone I did it.” I hurriedly finished the end of my sentence. “I am sure Mark was killed around 1:30 a.m. last night. So…” I stood up quickly. “What were YOU doing at 1:30 a.m. last night?!” I interrogated.

The DA told me that they had been asleep with their eyes open at 1:30 and so they couldn’t have killed Mark. And while it’s not a tight alibi, it’s the explanation I have to go off of so it’s time to question the other guests.

“I’m gonna ignore the strange fact that you sleep with your eyes open. But it checks out… So, we need to figure out where everyone was and what they were doing around that time or, at the very least, who saw Mark last.” I explained to my new Partner. “You need to get out there. See if you can piece together the story of what happened last night. I’ll stick around with the body and run more tests.” I kneel back down next to Mark’s body as The DA, my new partner, goes to interview the suspects.

I was conducting some more tests but the guilt of last night weighed heavily on my conscience so I left the room to get a class of alcohol from the kitchen… Something to calm the nerves, you know? But when I returned Mark’s body was gone

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I knew I had to find my Partner and let them know what had happened. As I snuck out into the back I saw them talking with Damien. Hiding behind a bush, I listened in on the conversation. Once Damien began to walk away I knew I needed my partner’s attention.

“Hey! Partner! Get over here, now! Hurry up!” I whispered loudly, leading them back inside. “You’re not gonna believe this- I can barely believe this! The body- it’s gone. It’s just fucking disappeared. Look!” I led them back inside.

I showed them the scene and all that was left was an outline I drew before the body disappeared.

“WHO DID THIS?!” I shouted frustratedly. I couldn’t believe my stupidity. Once again my alcoholism is the reason people around me suffer. “It certainly wasn’t me! No, no… somebody, NOT ME, must have moved it between the time I was the last person alone with the body in the room and then stepped out for a few minutes to take care of some personal business that you don’t need to know about!” I began rambling again, speaking so fast I didn’t even know what I was saying. “Could have been anybody… except me.” I felt it was obvious although my Partner is new and might not be able to piece it together without me spelling it out.

“What the hell happened here?” The Butler entered, shocked.

“The body’s been moved.” I state plainly.

“On its own?!” He cried in terror and confusion.

“No- of course not! Unless it did, in which case we’ve got way bigger problems than a simple murder” A flash of lightning appeared in the sky after I said that.

“What the hell happened here?!” The Chef barged in.

“The body’s moved!” The Butler informs.

“On it’s own?!” He’s stunned at the notion.

“We haven’t ruled that out just yet, but let’s not forget we’ve got a murderer-“ The lightning interrupted me before The Colonel could.

“Bully!” The Colonel made his first appearance since last night… I had my suspicions about him. “Quite a storm out there, eh, chaps? What are you doing huddled in here in fear?” He asks without a care in the world.

“We have a zombie problem.” The Chef scoffs.

“Ahh, Homo Necrosis! The MOST dangerous game.” He gets in my face with that snarky smirk of his. “Well… if someone needs to put the old lad down again, I’m well up for the privilege.” He has a cheeky grin spread wide across his face… something about what he said didn’t sit right with me at all.

“What do you mean by again? And what do you mean by privilege?” I narrowed my eyes at him scouring for any reason as to why he’d kill Mark, his childhood best friend.

“I’m just saying… I’ve got plenty of- experience on the matter.” He gestured to the chalk drawing on the floor.

“So do I.” The Chef agreed.

“Yeah- that just raises more questions?” I was so confused… What could The Colonel mean? Was he speaking in riddles?

“Well I’m off to the grounds to see if I can catch a whiff of the old bag of bones, eh?” The Colonel walks off without a care.

“Wait- weren’t you and Mark the same age?” The Butler asks as The Colonel laughs boisterously.

I lean into my partner, if I can trust anyone with my detectives insight it’s them.

“All right. I don’t trust him. Then again, I don’t trust anyone.” The DA didn’t seem surprised. “All right, lock this place down. Secure the front gate. I don’t want anyone in or out of this place until we get to the bottom of this.” I ordered The Butler and Chef.

“Locks won’t keep people from getting out, sir.” The Butler timidly disagreed.

“Locks won’t” The Chef agreed. “But Chef will.” He walked out towards the front door.

“Look, you’re a real smart son of a bitch. handsome too, beautiful even.” I caressed The Butler’s face gently. “But! We don’t have time for this. I think we forgot the most important question of them all during our arousing game of whodunnit.” I began… “Why…? Why? Come, walk with me.” I gesture The DA to follow me.

We started down the hallway past the main entrance as I continued.

“Why did he invite us all here?? Why tonight?” I prompted the question neither of us had an answer to. “He said we were celebrating something, but he never specified what. It’s almost as if this whole shindig of a hootenanny was just a ruse.” I occasionally looked back at The DA who seemed to be lost in thought. Nevertheless, I continued speaking. “Mark was my friend, had been for years. But then he went quiet. I knew something was wrong, I just never figured out what…” As I went on, my body naturally came to a stop. “Now I guess I never will…” The words stung like a bullet to the heart, it was true though.

Mark is dead, he’s gone and there’s nothing I can do to bring him back. If only I had known how much danger he was in… Maybe then I never would have left him alone last night… Maybe he’d still be here.

“Look… I’m gonna level with you. You’re my new Partner. I’ve been working with them for years.” I continue walking and occasionally glancing back. “Now I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I know something is wrong. There is a murderer—“ The lightning causes us to briefly stop in our tracks. I look at The DA to make sure they’re okay. “Here amongst us, and we need to find him.” We begin climbing the staircase. “Now you look a trustworthy…somebody. I know we just met, but I am an excellent judge of character… Excellent like a fox.” I winked at them.

I smiled and fed them a line of bullshit. The truth was, I couldn’t trust them any more than the other skuzz around here. But like my late partner once said right before he died, best to keep your enemies close. Wink wink.

I suddenly stop as we head back down a flight of stairs and turn to face The DA, jutting a pointed finger at them.

“You don’t look like you have a reason to kill him. And if you do…” I laugh mischievously. “Best to keep your enemies close, eh? Wink wink.” I said as I winked at them. After that I continued my descent. “So, the real question we should be asking is: Who stood to gain the most from Mark’s death?”

The two of us continued through the manor as we talked.

“Now, in my thorough analysis of the corpse’s anal cavity, I discovered that in addition to being stabbed 37 times, he was also poisoned, beaten, strangled, drowned, and shot, in that order.” I began giving them the rundown on the autopsy. “Now, if you ask me… That’s a lotta trouble to go through to knock off one guy, and it sure as shit is no accident.” I led my Partner back up the stairs once again, continuing the conversation “No. No, my friend. There’s gonna be no simple candlestick-in-the-library solution to this whole… puzzle… So, we’re gonna have to do the detective-ly thing and go through the victim’s most private and personal possessions.” I led them to a door and they stood there with a blank expression. “Well? After you.” I prompted them.

We entered the room, it was a disaster. Bed sheets tossed on the floor, pillows, blankets, towels, and books were thrown willy nilly.

“Looks rough, but I don’t think he was killed here. Take a look around, see if you find anything, but BE CAREFUL! I’ve lost three partners before to bedroom booby traps.” I warned my new Partner.

The two of us begin to look around the mess of a room Mark left behind. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was always the state of it… I wondered if Mark had been struggling much more than I expected.

“Make sure you don’t tamper with any evidence!” I call to my partner from across the room. “Let me know if you find anything.” I add onto the previous statement.

The DA caught my attention by holding up a shattered picture frame with the colonel’s photo in it.

“You find a clue?” I inquire. While they inspect it I continue to look around, not paying much mind to who enters the room.

“You’re quite on the case, aren’t you?” The Colonel must’ve come in while I wasn’t looking. “Say, Detective? May I borrow your friend here?” He requests of me. I didn’t trust him but I hoped my Partner could squeeze some info outta him.

“Yeah, sure.” I agreed. “Don’t worry, Partner. I’ll handle it from here.” I reassured them.

“Bully…” The Colonel muttered under his breath.

The two left the room, I really hoped I could trust my Partner to get some information out of The Colonel. Perhaps a friendly ear would prompt him to confess to his alleged crimes. I continued searching the room when I found it, a news article about The Colonel. He had “allegedly” “accidentally” “killed” someone while on a safari trip and Mark covered his tracks… There it is, that’s all I needed. Motive for murder.

I tracked down The Colonel in the living room and pointed my gun at him.

“You filthy murderer!” I shouted.

“What the fuck are you on about, Detective?!” He instinctually grabbed his gun and I lunged forward to disarm him when he fired a shot, prompting me to back off. We were at a stalemate.

“ARE YOU NUTS?!” I yelled so loud my throat stung from the tension.

“Back away from me you psychopath!” The Colonel hissed.

Suddenly Damien and The DA burst in and saw the interaction unfold.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at but you better lower your weapon, you murderer!” I grip my gun tightly, so much so that my whole hand turned white. The lightning was simply white noise in comparison to this chaos.

“I bloody well won’t! You’re the one that assaulted me! For all I know, YOU could be the murderer!” He stepped closer to me as I backed further away. Once again, nobody noticed the lightning.

“What the fuuu- Oh!” The Chef ran in and was shocked to see two guns pointed at him due to our surprise by his sudden movement.

“LAST CHANCE! Drop your weapon!” I shout, prepared to fire a bullet right between his eyes. I didn’t want to do it but he was leaving me no choice.

“Master’s prized vase!!” The Butler shouted over a vase we had knocked over.

“Everyone please! I know we’re all on edge, but can’t we solve this amicably?” Damien interjected.

“On edge?! This PSYCHO tried to SHOOT ME!!” I snap back at Damien.

“That’s a bold faced lie! I was merely doing some light target practice!” The Colonel keeps stepping towards me causing me to fall back towards the front entrance.

“Inside?!” The Butler nearly had a heart attack upon hearing such a thing.

“Well, yes, I couldn’t go on the grounds now with that bloody Chef in my way, could I?” The Colonel grit his teeth angrily.

“Damn right! You should’ve remembered that, Private!” The Chef lunged at him, waving a ladle in his face. “Besides! You’re not my boss anymore!” He taps him on the head with the ladle he has clutched in his hands.

“It’s Colonel now” He looked like he was about to kill The Chef for that.

“ENOUGH OF THIS HORSESHIT!” I shout “You knew I was onto you and you were trying to whack me off before I could finger you…… As the murderer!” I trailed off as the lightning struck outside.

“I will not be called a murderer in my own home.” The Colonel furrowed his brows in rage as lightning stuck once more.

“STOP!!” Suddenly a women burst through the door.

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“What are you doing?!” The woman shouts frustratedly.

“Who the hell are you?!” I demand.

“Celine? What are you doing here?” The Colonel’s expression softens…

"Celine? How the hell do you know her?” I once again demand answers from somebody, anybody.

“Madame, l'm afraid you've come at a very inopportune time. Something dreadful has happened here.” The Butler welcomes her remorsefully.

“I can see that, I’m just glad I got here before it got any worse.” She seemed relieved and yet worried.

“This is only the tip of the iceberg! And it's a big iceberg. How can I put this delicately…” The Chef seemed as though he was searching for the right words to say to comfort Celine and yet how can you find something to say for something like this… ”MARK'S FUCKING DEAD!” Well- so much for delicately…

“What?!” She was clearly shocked, she now seemed sad, guilty, and perhaps even a little anxious.

“Dead like my hopes and dreams…” The Chef went on… “And he’s a flesh eating zombie too!” He exclaimed.

“Homo Necrosis!” Celine repeated the same words I had heard The Colonel say…

“Exactly! Hence, the guns!” The Colonel waved his gun around like it was a toy airplane.

“That is NOT hence the guns!” I shake my gun around as a gesture.

“Stop waving those bloody guns around!” The Butler interjects.

Me and The Colonel, even The Chef with his ladle, shake our weapons in his face.

“Hol-Hold on! Tell me what happened! How did Mark…die?” Celine asked, curiously.

“It was murder.” Damien chimed in as lightning stuck outside. “And worse yet, the body is missing.” He added.

“What? Show me! And don’t say that word!” She ordered all of us.

“What word? Murder?” The Chef asked as lightning struck.

“Yes! That word!” She was insistent about it.

“Well I mean murder is a rather accurate description of what occur-“ The Butler ignored the lighting but was stopped by Celine.

“Do you not see the lightning?!” She threw up her hands.

“You sayin’ it was lightning that murdered Mark?” I asked this weirdo chick, also ignoring the lightning.

“Well, Mother Nature doesn’t exactly strike me as having murderous intent.” As the Colonel said that more lightning struck. “Unless you count that time I was sucked into the board game Jumanji and I wa-“ Celine interrupted him.

“Stop! Stop! Look, whatever’s happening here is tapping into forces far beyond our control!” She exclaims.

Everyone looks around at each other until we all look at The Chef.

“Murder” He says quietly with a cheeky smile as lightning strikes…

“Mur….doch?” The colonel tests the waters and nothing happens.

“Malarkey.” I decide to try it out as well, once again nothing occurred.

We all look to The Butler.

“Marco!” He exclaims as the loudest of the lightning strikes.

“ENOUGH!” Celine shouts and suddenly we’re all sat down at a table. “Look… Mark’s death is a terrible thing indeed. But I fear that there are forces much darker than anything we’ve seen here today.” Celine began. “I’m well versed in the arcane arts, but if you, untrained and uninitiated can summon lightning with a mere word… We’re all in far graver danger than anything we could ever hope to face alone.” She continued… “We’re gonna have to work together if we’re gonna survive this.” Celine seemed to have a plan in mind but what good would witchcraft do? My job was to solve this whodunnit…

“Celine, what are you proposing?” Damien seemed worried.

“We need to speak with Mark.” Celine kept it vague as if she couldn’t trust any of us with this information.

“I knew it! He’s a flesh eating zombie!” The Chef slams his hands on the table.

“No…” Celine sighs, defeated.

“Well, maybe one of those smart zombies: homeo sapio zombifus!” The Colonel proposed.

“No! No! I need to commune with the dead.” She finally put her real intentions out there.

“That doesn’t sound like a good Idea.” I advised against it.

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t need your permission.” She glared at me. “But, YOU!” She pointed right at my Partner. “You’ve been awfully quiet through this whole thing.” Celine pointed out…

She did have a point, I didn’t even know my Partner’s name. All I knew was that they were the most goddamn handsome and/or beautiful person I had ever laid my eyes upon.

“With those beady little eyes.” The Chef added onto Celine’s statements about my so-called partner.

“And wearing THOSE rags? pff..” The Butler scoffed.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have trusted someone so goddamn gorgeous.” I shook my head in disappointment.

They looked towards The Colonel who didn’t notice at first.

“Oh- I’ll pass.” He refuses to add on.

“But I feel like I can trust you… I sense you have a far greater part to play in all of this.” Celine continues, staring deeply into The DA’s eyes. “Will you help me find an answer?” She asks them patiently awaiting an answer.

The DA thinks for a moment and then nods. They had made up their mind and I knew there was no changing it… But still, this was too dangerous and I had lost too many partners to allow this.

“Alright, that's enough. I'm not gonna just sit around and let you drag my Partner off to their very likely death. I won't stand for it!” I stood up, angry with Celine for dragging them into this messed up game.

“Well I trust Celine with all my heart! I see no reason why an-any-any one should doubt her!” The Colonel, too, stands up, slamming his hands down on the table.

“Well, I have to agree with our intrepid detective here. It just doesn’t seem natural.” The Butler sided with me on the matter.

“I never liked this uptight asshole. He walks around with a stick up his ass.” The Chef shakes a finger toward The Butler. “But I think he’s right… Something’s weird.” He ends up agreeing with him in the end…

“If it makes you feel any better, you guys can stand watch outside the door, but my work CANNOT be interrupted.” Celine tries to negotiate but this still didn’t sit right with me.

“Oh believe you me. I’ll be keeping a close eye on every single one of you.” I began, looking around at all these guests… I knew one of them had killed Mark and I was going to bring them to justice. “Even myself… Especially myself.” I finished.

Celine got up from the table hurriedly, Damien and The DA following close behind as they all went upstairs.

The rest of us stared at each other, waiting for someone to break the silence.

“I’m going to grab a drink from the kitchen, I’m parched.” The Colonel was the first to speak up after what had just happened. He stood up and began towards the kitchen.

“Oh yeah? Well I’m going to make sure my Partner’s okay in there.” I try to one up him and quickly follow the others up the stairs.

Me and Damien waited outside the room in silence, just listening in. We hoped that maybe we’d get some insight too. Eventually we heard Celine shouting about something and I knew I had to stop this.

“What the shit is this?!” I barge into the room seeing The DA at a small table across from Celine. On the table, there’s various candles, and tarot cards, along with crystals scattered around like stars in the sky. I knew this ‘Celine’ character was bluffing about being a seer..

“Get out! We are not done here!” Celine hissed at me, pissed that I was here.

“Celine, I think this is quite enough.” Damien, the voice of reason chimed in.

“It’s enough when I SAY ITS ENOUGH!” She violently slams her hands down onto the table as she bickers with Damien.

As this went on I grabbed a piece of paper that had fallen off the table. I looked at it and it was a drawing of what looked to be a gardener… What could it mean- A groundskeeper. I had to find The Butler.

“C’mon Partner, let’s go.” I try to get their attention but they’re hyper-focused on the argument “Come on! Hurry it up!” I grab their arm and lead them out of the room.

I pulled them further and further away from whatever mess Celine dragged you into.

“What did she do to you? What is this?” I was at a loss for what to even say “Butler! Butler!” I cried.

“What? What is it?!” The Butler exclaimed, confused.

“This mean anything to you?” I asked him, hoping to catch him in a lie.

I showed him the drawing and The Chef arrived soon after, drawn by the commotion. He stared at it for a moment and then opened his mouth, hesitating before saying anything.

“Well, maybe… no, sorry.” He shook his head.

“Spit it out if you got something!!” I urge him to continue.

“Well… it could be our groundskeeper, George, but he only works on the weekdays.” The Butler admitted.

As The Butler said this my eyes wandered over to the chef who was super fidgety and nervous. He must know more than he’s letting on.

“Looks like your friend here may disagree with that notion.” I cross my arms, staring at him and waiting for an answer.

“Me?” The Chef tried to act surprised but I could smell a lie even if it was deep fried and fed to a hippo.

“Yeah, you.” I sarcastically remark.

“Uh… I don’t know shit man! I plead the fifth, man!” He nervously stood his ground.

“Chef, if you know something, for god’s sake spit it out!” The Butler for once was reasonable.

“Okay, all right, you’re twisting my arm” He began. “All right, George has been living on the grounds for years.” He finally spat it out.

“WHAT?!” The Butler was mortified.

“And you just now thought to share that information with us?!” To say I was shocked in an understatement… This revelation could have solved everything. “For all we know, HE could be the murderer!” I shout as lightning strikes once again.

“For the last time, stop saying that word.” Celine joins us in the hallway, Damien in her wake.

“Look, George just tends to the grounds, man. He’s a fuckin’ hermit!” The Chef is insistent that this George has nothing to do with what occurred last night.

“I don’t care what the fuck he is!” I disagree, this guy could have killed Mark in his own home.

“Look, all of this arguing is getting us nowhere! Just go outside and talk to this George and be done with it!” Damien was obviously fed up with the investigations and interrogations.

“Hold on a sec? You’re not coming with us?” I scoff, after everything that happened he still thinks he can just sit by idly?!

“I-I need to stay here with Celine.” He gripped his cane tightly.

“I don’t need help! Especially from YOU!” Celine scoffed, turning away from Damien.

��OUR FRIEND IS DEAD!” Damien shouts but then regrets raising his voice. He’s breathing heavily, the man is clearly frustrated. “I’m sorry… I just need answers to all of this. I already lost one friend today. I don’t want to lose another…” He admits his fear of losing Celine…

“Fine… but I need to stay here.” She sighs, turning back to Damien.

“Fine with me.” He nods.

“Fine, good, yeah, whatever, who cares? All right, you’re coming with me!” I look at The Chef, pointing a finger at him. “Partner, you too.” I look at The DA and we begin to walk towards the stairs when I realized it. “Hold on a sec… we’re missing somebody. Who had eyes on The Colonel?” I couldn’t believe my carelessness.

“Well, he appeared tired and went back to his room.” The Butler explained.

“I’m sure he did. And with any luck, he’ll stay there. All right, let’s roll out. Come on.” I gesture for everyone to start moving, we didn’t have much time. That George guy could flee at any moment.

I grab The Chef, making him lead us to George.

“Move it! Come on, Partner, come on!” I call out.

We made our way down the stairs, stopping at the back door.

“Lead the way cookie.” I insult him.

“Cookie? I’m not your cookie! I spent three weeks at culinary school!! I earned the right to be called a chef!” He got in my face, shouting.

“I’m very impressed.” I sarcastically compliment him. “Just tell us where we’re going!” I order. He looks as though he wants to fight back but bites his tongue. I shove him towards the door. “Come on! Let’s go!” I was fed up with this bullshit. It’s time to end all of this.

We go through the doors, walking around the old stone bricked building. This manor would be beautiful if not for the skeletons in its closet. But that wasn’t important… As we come around to the old stone stairs I see him, tending to the grass in the middle of the night.

I turn to look at my Partner who’s still following close behind. They give me a strange look, wondering why I’m staring at them.

“I think I see him.” I finally point out. We descend the stairs and I pull out my gun, pointing it at him. “Hey! Buddy! Hands where I can see ‘em!” I shout angrily.

“Hey, my hands are where they’re supposed to be. Unless, of course, you’d like to dig the hole for yourself.” He seemed aloof and as if this was no big deal. But…

He was right… I didn’t realize it before. It had been too dark to see but he really was digging a large hole…

“What the hell are you doing here?!” I come closer, expecting him to make a break for it soon.

“I’m the groundskeeper. I keep the ground, all right??” He rested the shovel on the ground, leaning on it like it was a cane. “I’d say, look around! The ground is pretty well kept in this place right?” He gestured his free hand towards the grounds.

“I’m sorry man. This DICK made me bring him out here!” The Chef pointed at me aggressively.

“You shut up!” I spat. “How do you not know about the murders going on in this house?” I asked, shocked by the lightning that struck over my head. “How do you not hear that lightning!” I gesture to the sky.

“Lightning is the sky’s business! Look at the ground! When the ground starts shooting up lightning, I’ll let you know!” George sarcastically responded.

“Alright then, smartass, why exactly are you digging that hole? And why shouldn't we suspect you for taking part in the death of your employer?” I interrogate him further. He just laughs.

“Employers come and go! Some die, some don't, some are murdered, some are not. It's not my business!” He rolls his eyes. “I’m digging this hole for a burst water pipe, if that’s all right with your gracefulness?!” His sarcasm was really starting to piss me off.

“See? I told you! George didn’t do nothin’ man!” The Chef spat at me.

“See?” George slams his shovel into the ground. “I just did nothing.” He scoffs.

“Forgive me for not taking you at face value.” I began sarcastically. “But we’re all gonna come inside, we’re gonna sit down, and have a nice lovely chat. And get to the bottom of this before I lose my mind and start dabbling in murder myself” The lightning is so expected now I didn’t even really react to it as much as I used to.

“Now you listen to me, sonny!” George begins, angrily. “It’s been fifteen years since I’ve been in that house and I am not about to break that winning streak now.” He shakes his head. “I don’t care how many murders there’ve been. I ain’t going near that house!” He was very insistent on it

The thing is, that just won’t cut it. We need everyone in the house so we can finally discuss everyone’s alibis. I need answers, not just for myself… But so Mark’s soul can move on.

Before I could think of something to say that would convince him, he started back up.

“However, there is one reason. One incident. One manifestation. That will get me to go into that mad house.” He finished as a silence washed over all of us… “And you had better pray to God that that reason never comes to pass.” He broke the silence created by him.

Suddenly a big flash of lightning strikes above the manor as all the windows inside shone brighter than the sun.

“THAT THERE’S THE REASON!” George shouts as he runs towards the manor.

We follow him as he heads up the stairs.

“Go, go, go!” I shout, making sure my Partner is still okay.

As we run, we pass by The Colonel who’s in complete shock. Then a door flies open and Celine emerges with an eerie light cast on her. I didn’t know what to do, I just stood there pointing my gun at her.

“Somebody help me!!” George shouts as he struggles to close the door.

The DA runs to his side, successfully helping him shut the door on Celine.

𐙚°🥂⋆.ೃ🪩*•°🥂⋆.ೃ🪩*•♡☾‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧

George locks the doors with an old set of keys. Suddenly the house went back to normal.

“What the hell is going on?” The Colonel walks over to us, confused by the ruckus. “Where’s Celine?!” He asks, unusually concerned for her.

“She’s gone, and so is everything else.” George says bluntly, as he begins to walk away.

“Wait a minute! Where the hell do you think you’re going?!” I shout.

“Away from here! This place is cursed. If you had half a brain you’d all do the same.” He spat, leaving without a second thought.

“Don’t walk away from me! Where’s Celine?! Where’s Damien?!” The Colonel shouts, frustrated with the lack of answers.

“I’ve spent 25 years cooking for these uppity fucks! I’m not about to die for ‘em! I quit! Bitch!” The Chef shouts, leaving as well.

“I know things seem far beyond your control right now, but such that it is for all of us here. I shall take my leave and I implore you to do the same.” The Butler rests his hand on The Colonel’s shoulder.

“I won’t let my friends die in this godforsaken house!” He begins angrily. “And if you all are too much of a coward to do the same, you had best leave before I kill you myself!” The Colonel looks more angry than I’ve ever seen him. But he walks away without another word.

“Now you hold on a second, I’ve got more questions!” I shout after him, grabbing his arm.

“Get your hands off me!” He pushes me away, storming off.

“What the hell is going on here?!” I ask The DA before chasing after the colonel.

I chased him to his room but he slammed the door on my face, locking it.

“You can’t hide in there forever!” I shout.

“Oh yes I can!” He taunts me.

“I’m going to find something to break this damn door down, let’s see who’s laughing then!” I scream.

I left to go find a crowbar or an axe or even a simple lock-pick. I searched everywhere until settling for a slim, thin knife from the kitchen. I head back up to the colonel’s room, fiddling with the lock when I heard it.

“DETECTIVE!” The Colonel shouts from behind me, with a gun pointed at my head and The DA in his wake. Instinctually, I pull out my gun.

“You’d better choose your next words carefully, Colonel.” I grip my gun tightly, ready to fire.

“Only my friends get to call me that name by that name, and you, sir, are NO friend of mine!” He shouts angrily.

“Well you’re one to talk about friends, you Murderer!” I scream accusations at him as the lightning strikes.

“I didn’t kill anybody! This is MADNESS!” He doubles down.

“Oh? You wanna talk about madness? Madness is stealing your best friend’s wife!!” I had put two and two together… It took me awhile to piece the puzzle pieces together but now it made sense. I had heard Mark mention a Celine and divorce long ago… and seeing how the two of them acted together, it wad clear to me that The Colonel was the reason for the divorce. Not to mention the article I found about The Colonel receiving money from Mark. “Madness is squeezing him for cash to fund your own sick sexual exploits with that very woman!” I scream flying accusation after accusation at him, waiting for him to crack.

“SHUT UP!” He shrieks

“Madness is plotting the death of your childhood friend because you can’t handle the—“ Before I could finish there was a gunshot… Did… Did I shoot him?

I fell to the ground as the world around me went dark… I knew that this was the end for me.. I wanted one last look at my Partner but then another gunshot rang and my partner fell backwards down the stairs. I closed my eyes and embraced the darkness.

𐙚°🥂⋆.ೃ🪩*•°🥂⋆.ೃ🪩*•♡☾‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧

I woke up in the hospital, my boss sitting next to me. He stood up upon seeing me awake.

“Abe!! Thank the gods you’re okay! Who did this?! Who shot you??” He held my hand, desperate to catch my attempted murderer.

“The… Colonel.” I whimpered weakly before the room went dark once more

𐙚°🥂⋆.ೃ🪩*•°🥂⋆.ೃ🪩*•♡☾‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧

back next

[freeluigihesbae]

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝔂𝓷𝓮𝓬𝓭𝓸𝓬𝓱𝓮 - 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 2

fic summary:

the synecdoche is the agency we've seen in the movies. it's an agency that's real.

the reader is arya nitwa, code named riposte, who is a cold and calculated, terribly vulnerable but expert eccidetniest for her own good. she's a top ranking agent with her own team

luigi mangione, code named kismet, is cheery and clever, making his own marks in the agency after he loses the things that meant the most to him and hiding a pool of wounds beneath his smile.

arya and luigi cross paths for a new mission, where arya is forced to trust luigi while he is forced to heal. what happens when a forbidden love and a complex tangle of emotions comes to lie before their eyes?

chapter summary: what's the new mission?

𝗍𝗐: 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁, 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗁𝗂𝖼 𝖽𝖾𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽, 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗑𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗎𝗅𝗍, 𝖼𝗈𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅/𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗌𝖾

"Your insults are good jack-off material." A voice resounds in the meeting room. Guns are splayed across the table while everyone is bending over backwards in the plush chairs the agency so generously provides for hard-working and refuse-to-lose agent after their mission(s).

"I'm glad because you'll be able to rub your dick now that the mission is over and stutter with your hips instead of your head and pull a parallel situation right in the middle of a fucking mission. You fucking dim-wit." An icy voice responds and bangs its hand on the table, desperate to get a point across.

Arya, code name Riposte, clears her throat.

"I'm glad we made it out, but we need to figure out what needs to be done. Bastion, please stop insulting someone every time something doesn't go according to plan." Bastion. One of four other members on Arya's team who is a firm believer in working with a plan. He hails from the United States, having grown up in an abusive household and getting thrown from one orphanage to another before he was kidnapped and almost sold for his organs, until luck came his way in the form of the Synecdoche. He was saved by the same agency he was working for, so it only seemed logical to stay since he never truly could leave. Lack of predictability was like taking away oxygen for Bastion, so he grounded himself entirely when something was agreed upon. He was flexible until he wasn't, always reserving the insults until after a mission was completed. Once given a plan, he could list out the details within seconds, telling every one what to do, where to look, and what to pick up. His eyes were a sucker for details, drinking in the landscape and giving the clearest direction possible so anyone could avoid anything that they couldn't see but he could. He buried himself in the nuances and stayed not just a step, but a block in front anyone who tried to break him down.

"Thank you Riposte. I'm glad someone understand that dignity has a place in and out of everyone's mouth." A snort erupts from member two of Arya's team: Locutor, short for Interlocutor. He was probably Bastion's greatest adversary and most painful headache. The two often butted heads because of his lax mentality. His family was entirely addicted to drugs, suffering from hyperactivity himself having had drugs in his body when born. Foster parents treated him like shit and he came home to them frothing at the mouths, before getting wrongly jailed and almost prosecuted because they stored their drugs in his room. Locutor was talkative and laid back, placing a bullet an inch closer to the target he promised before placing another right where his last one landed, all with one eye closed. He could laugh so loud your ears hurt, but he would hear a pin drop and grab you to duck with him before the nerves in your spinal cord could register a sensation coming right towards you. Attributing it to being French and their quality of casual nudity didn't minimize the fact that his behavior could be irritating since not every was a sleep-worker like himself. He talked all the time and walked, too... when it was demanded of him.

"Locutor, I'm not so sure that means you're immune to criticism. Riposte is right; we need to have a serious conversation." Myriad was the logical peacemaker, able to pull all the members together in a circle before Riposte grabbed it and held their attention. Her logic hid the secrets of how she was forced into getting married at the young age of 12, inevitably giving birth in wedlock and further raped so many times for several years she had to get her uterus removed by the the grace of a doctor who visited her village in poorest country of Africa: Burundi. The pain lasted for years until she ran away and found herself having one last shot at freedom by joining the Synecdoche, which she discovered when militia groups tied to the agency had taken her in and raised her until she found herself indebted to the comforts to which they so graciously extended. She was mouth-wateringly beautiful, lines gracefully highlighting her dark and luscious skin. Her voice was always cool and calming, like a balm that had to be placed in any situation where conflict arose. She was good at holding conversation, debating the criminal across from her so well anyone would think she's running an empire herself. She was born a genius, working with six-digit numbers and multiplying them to negotiate faux business deal and bust down on crimes. She could slip the medicine into a drink while making a point about why the target should invest in her proposal, raising her hands only to let a pill or just a drop of poison seep into what the other side would never know is the ticket to their death. Stealth was not just a strength, but a passion. She was Riposte's wing-woman, no matter what hand Riposte looked at.

"Thanks Myriad. Now, is the bodycam footage uploaded into the cloud for me to access?" Riposte has turned her body to look directly at member four of the team: Gemini. She came from Korea, having been engrossed with the idea of computers, binary systems, and everything digital that couldn't be touched unless you desperately pressed and palmed a computer screen after which you still couldn't touch. She could fix a CPU that was shattered into a million pieces in mere hours or recover deleted data by the means only the higher powers knew how. It was a spectacle to watch Gemini perfectly in posture, working away at the system while effortlessly placing a bullet in any and all intruders who dared to touch or interrupt her work. She was the best at what she did which was why she was in charge of training programs for new IT and coding recruits at the Synecdoche. Her wit was unmatched but she spoke with brevity, only giving lectures if someone damaged anything related to her work with the clouds and lightnings of the computer world. Speaking too much burned her once, having outed the fact that her father was cheating on his mother. She was kidnapped and tortured her entire life by the stepmother and siblings she was forced to call family, close to dying when the couldn't eat toward her later teen years. She, too, was saved by the Synecdoche and once given the resources, she outperformed far above her own expectations.

"Riposte, we just fought for two weeks on this mission and you want me to have it uploaded by the next second?" Gemini shoots an annoyed glare to which Riposte shakes her head.

"Sorry for interrupting your beauty sleep Gemini. Can we go in a circle and talk about what we think everyone fucked up on?" Riposte sighs. She had to do this the easy way. It was a cop-out when she opened the table up for nonsensical insults because it turned into banter and sometimes, unresolved sexual tension that Riposte didn't have the time to bare with.

"Sign me the fuck up." Bastion is the first to speak up, hauling his 6'4" build and walking to the front of the room where Riposte is standing. Riposte steps aside, letting out a customary but irritated sigh, ready to hear everyone treat the session like it was a lunchroom fight.

"Locutor," Bastion eyes the unbothered Frenchman who groans and lets out a curse in his mother tongue before yelling out an uncharacteristically loud "fuck a bitch with me on a nude beach back in France friend!" to which Bastion groans and sends a seething "I might fuck you against your will, Locutor," to which the two women in the group scream and lecture Bastion on how using rape as a threat is a disgusting low in trying to get a point across. Riposte's face remains still, letting the anger rise to a point before she yells a "HALT!" into the expanse of the room.

That's the most her face ever moves: the crease of her eyebrows lending into the scrunch of her nose as guided by the fierce and thundering words she has to boldly yell out. The entire room stills, Gemini even placing her hand on the gun as a reflex because it takes her a moment to understand what just happened. Even Bastion, the 6'4" hunk that prides himself on being able to "take bullets better than short bitches" stumbles before his mouth absolutely zips shut. The only sound is the one of silence, before Riposte is standing in the front of the room again.

"This is not a fucking playtime. I expect all of your to align your expertise and throw your inhibitions to the side and give some serious answers. If you can't do that, you might as well tell yourself our next mission will be us trying to commit suicide unbeknownst to ourselves. And why? Because none of you can stay serious," Riposte turns to Bastion and Locutor, pointing an accusatory finger before spitting out a "if you can get a bedroom, you best believe it should happen soon or else I'll kill you both and bury you in one" before she walks out of the room, slamming the glass door behind her. She pays no heed to the reactions of any of her team members, unable to handle the tension of the moment and needing to loosen up her conscience. Make no mistake, her features rest the same as though time had stayed still but what went on inside pried at her sanity.

Riposte was part of the all-rounder league that made up less than 1% of the entire Synecdoche's clan of agents. They were the most tirelessly trained, hit with conditions that are so unrelated and randomly flicked in all direction of their environment that everything you learnt had to be applied. All bets were off and all rules, strangely, had to be broken in order to succeed. Arya was lucky since she already had a solid skill set before joining the Synecdoche, but she chose a few more to develop her profile and try it out. She along with at least 200 other agents were inducted as all-rounders. Most team leaders are an all-rounder and for her team, it was no different. She's been with her team for four years, having experienced the highs and lows but throughout it all, she never desired to know them better. Or maybe she did, but she never pursued it in fear she would lose them the way she lost her brother.

Riposte, now at freedom to be herself, Arya, sits down in the lounge room of the Synecdoche headquarters. Food and drinks are all free as long as you enter with the biometric scan and unique S-ID each agent has. Arya pours herself some juice before resting on the soft arm chair. The entire room is minimalistic but the furniture is top of the line, so comfortable you could sink into it and sleep there if you so chose to. No-one cared where you stayed or what you did as long as you stayed in the headquarters building and reported to duty when asked of you. This was true freedom, perhaps the most Arya would ever experience for the rest of her life.

Arya is swirling her drink around, feeling conflicted about the words she's spoken. Everyone in the group was at fault, for their most recent mission almost slipped out of hand and she knew the blame would be falling on her as the leader of their group. A second party was clearly aiming for the target her group wanted, which meant they missed a detail that Bastion would normally be responsible for. Was she being too hard or too soft? Was his mind under pressure or too lax? Arya couldn't tell. There were so many decisions the group made at once that after a certain point, it became difficult to narrow the problem to one specific person. There were always too many dominos falling at once, toppling and create a commotion you forget to focus on what's in front of you.

Taking meager sips in between, Arya plans out how to approach her group again. She's never raised her voice the way she just did which is why she needed a break to cope with her own reaction too. It was an outburst of anger, one she wished she could've had back before she joined the Synecdoche and was stuck in the hands of her parents.

God damn that prison, Arya thinks to herself.

"Hey." Arya's thoughts are interrupted by a rough but welcoming voice she finds next to her. She takes her sweet time in shifting her gaze from the liquid she was swirling around in her glass before turning to look at the said person.

"What pleasure do I owe you?" Arya asks the man beside her. His features are familiar: curly, tousled hair perfectly trimmed that from a distance, you'd think his hair had no texture. His cheekbones were high and defined with a sharp jawline that blended into his other features. His nose was a high-bridge that stood proud while holding the weight of the depth from his dark green eyes.

"None, other than partaking in some conversation with me. I just finished a mission and I'm exhausted." He looks about Arya's age, maybe slightly older. He has a smile in his eyes while staring at Arya, expectantly waiting for a response.

Arya lets out a dry chuckle before turning her head back to take a sip of her juice. She hands her glass over to the man next to her. "Apple juice?" She asks him, waiting for him to pick up the glass. She studies his face which opts for raised eyebrows that settle when his lips curve and he nods his head ever so slightly.

"If you insist." He takes the glass, barely brushing against Arya's fingers. Arya is looking from one eye of his to another, trying to place where she saw him. He was simply so familiar with those bold features and smooth, confident voice. Bells were ringing but the answer failed to present itself. So, she took the initiative herself.

"Riposte." Arya says it with simplicity. She thought it would be a gesture of equanimity if he gave her his code name too, but she didn't necessarily expect it from him. But he answers after downing the remaining juice.

"Kismet. Italy, but born and raised in the U.S. before moving to my origins." He extends his free hand. Arya looks down at his hand before extending the gesture back. "Similarly, but my roots hail from India." She reaches her hand and lets his palm touch hers, the warm touch having been the first form of pleasant interaction she's had for the past few months.

"Riposte. I've heard about you. What brings the all-rounder to this magnificent room?" Kismet gestures, letting go and carelessly flailing his arm to show the entire room. Arya, or now again Riposte, keeps her eyes on him before answering: "Had a minor falling out with my team which led to an outburst." She answers while keeping her eyes trained on him, a desperation to figure out who he was growing inside of her. Where did she see him?

"Outburst on your part I assume. Apple juice isn't for the weak." Kismet laughs before continuing. "You're quite well-known in the all-rounder league." He adds this before returning to look Riposte back in the eyes.

Suddenly, she remembers. Kismet. He was already in the Synecdoche a year before she joined but they both competed to join the all-rounder league in the same year. She remembers standing on the podium, thanking the Synecdoche for allowing to her get inducted before sitting down and watching a young Kismet give a similar speech. She remembers her group members whispering, thirsting over him in all his glory and if she had to name a member, it would be Gemini. She would've sucked this guy off if given the chance.

"Kismet. You're an all-rounder too. I remember you from our induction speeches." Arya wants to smile ever so slightly but she doesn't. Her remains neutral as though she's simply reciting a fact from a textbook.

"You remember? Sharp, just like the undertone of your code name, Riposte." Kismet's eyes have a glint of mischief. He's impressed by her ability to remember the event that occurred so many years ago, perhaps feeling touched by it.

Riposte was only having conversation per his request. "Just making conversation agent." Riposte gets up to retrieve another glass with mango nectar this time. She swears she can feel eyes on her back, traveling and outlining her figure as she turns around and proves her assumption right. She walks back and plops down right where she was originally sitting, but turns towards Kismet next to her.

An increasing urge to tell him her real name bubbled up to the surface, which Riposte scowled at internally. She fought the urge, desperately trying to make sure her eyes gave nothing away, much less her face.

"You're thinking." Kismet says, scooting a bit closer. In truth, Riposte's face hadn't changed even a bit, perhaps more stoned than it was before. It piqued her curiosity that he could pinpoint her inner turmoil, scaring her too since she's remained absolutely mysterious to those who try to decode her. She asks her burning question.

"What you believe I'm thinking about?" Riposte lays the question in front of him. Kismet cocks his head to the side before giving a thin, but pleasant smile.

"I didn't learn mind-reading at any point before or after the Synecdoche, agent." Kismet gets up, placing the empty glass to the side where Riposte had just picked up her nectar before walking behind Riposte to leave, but he stops. His comes down on her shoulder gently, making Riposte's senses heighten but he presses down with precision, indicating there is no danger.

Riposte turns her head up to look at Kismet, her lips slightly parted. She takes in his toned arms which were perfectly buff, just enough to prove he worked out. His tattoos were short but beautifully drawn across his skin, etched into the rounds of his body. Objectively, of course, she made these observations. What else would she do? This was an interaction she was experiencing for the first time in a long time. Intimacy. It was scaring her, threatening to shake the walls she worked so hard to build. He looks back down at her, squinting his eyes before shaking his head and bending down to her ear. His warm breath surrounded her untouched skin as he spoke.

"The name's Luigi. I'll see you around." Arya's jaw flexes, watching the agent walk away and questioning if this was really happening. He told her his true name. But why? Part of her wanted to stand up and give it back, but she didn't. It was probably better that way, she felt, because she never shared her true name with anyone unlike several other agents did. That was up to their discretion but giving her name away felt like she loses a fraction of her modesty. Even if her mind was to change, he was already out of the door and making his way back to wherever he first came from.

~

Riposte has made her way to back the meeting room to find everyone quietly tending to their weapons or completing administrative to tasks to update their mission success. 

"Riposte we're sorry. We're ready to talk." A voice pipes up, Gemini. Riposte looks at Gemini, who is eyeing her with slight regret and shame, trying to speak for the group and make amends with what happened. "We've never seen you react that way." Gemini speaks with a softness Riposte herself has never heard before. She finds it touching, but only gives a small nod and dives right back into evaluations.

"Let's try that again, except this time we all talk about ourselves instead of others. Bastion?" Riposte directs her eyes towards Bastion who eyes her and licks his lips, nervous but eventually speaking up.

"I'll start then." Bastion's eyes flicker towards Riposte, who is simply staring, waiting for him to speak. "I'm the one in charge of details and planning. I went back through our blueprint maps of the building where the gala was held and I realized there was an opening that I missed. It might seem natural to make mistakes but I never do. I'm not used to it and I don't want to make them every again." Bastion sits back down and the silence is awkward, hanging limp and crooked until Gemini speaks up.

"I'm at fault for ignoring Bastion when he asked me to do a thorough scan of the security cameras. I'm normally good at tracing paths and I might've caught our third party fuckers if I had done so and alerted everyone else much earlier. Mistake on my part." Gemini is quick but honest, sitting back down when is finished.

Riposte stands up. Everyone raises their eyebrows, not used to seeing Riposte show any vulnerability or admission to making mistakes. It's something she noticed upon heavy pondering over their last few missions so she decided to take a step in the right direction so, perhaps, the group could work together better. "I'm the all-rounder and should've kept a better eye on all of you. I never ask if you guys are feeling okay or overworked and unknowingly, it might be impacting you guys. I'll try be more involved in all processes better from now on." Riposte wants to say that any of her group members can come talk to her, but she doesn't. There is too much hesitation because she knows she cannot handle others when she fails to handle herself. She sits back down, eyeing Myriad and Locutor to see if either of them want to go. Myriad stands up and tells her peace, as does Locutor (during which time almost everyone sees Bastion staring with a little too much focus) before the room is silent as though no conversation had ever taken place.

Riposte so much believes that it may do good if she cracked a joke, spoke more about being vulnerable, and trying to ask them to open up more, but in doing so she would be a traitor to her own habits when if anything, she had to learn to do it first. She could not teach or propose habits she didn't have herself. So she kept quiet and announced a quick "dismissed" before walking out of the room and retreating to her room with swift and similar steps and a pressed, neutral face.

~

"We have a new mission." Riposte slams manila folders in a heap on the floor. The gang is back together, incredulously staring at the all-rounder whose expression remains unchanged despite her own exhaustion from their last mission.

"We just had a mission. Are we the only good ones in this damn agency?" Myriad's voice is teetering on the edge, angry and trying to find a justification as to why this would be acceptable to push onto the group.

"Oh god." Locutor groans and sprawls his body across the floor, wishing he could suffocate himself with the soft, white faux fur piece on the ground. "We just had to recover files of child pornography and bags of frozen limbs which brought our last bastard in millions and you're telling we have another mission. God forbid I have feelings." Locutor snorts while Bastion pulls him off the ground. "Stop inhaling shit on the ground." Bastion gives him a stern look before Locutor pulls himself off his team member, rolling his eyes.

"What's the mission Ri?" Gemini looks at a pondering Riposte, who was patiently waiting for her team members to stop talking. She tended to pull that nickname when she was calm and ready to focus on the next mission. Sweet, but Riposte never let it get to her. It was her team that she had to contour to the correct dimensions and use to win. That's all.

Riposte slides manila folders one after the other like it's a game of UNO. Everyone, including herself, open the folders, intently reading the information in the papers that were neatly arranged inside.

"This information is redundant. Where is our information about who exactly we're trying to bring down?" Myriad asks her question, letting it simmer in the air. Riposte has the same question too, but keeps quiet as she tries to find other avenues to get that information for them.

"Riposte?" Locutor directs his attention to Riposte, who is still staring at the papers.

"No clue." Riposte answers and sighs, motioning to Bastion to pass his folder, but it's just the same information she had in hers.

Before they can express further irritation, the door opens. Everyone stands up, back straight and faces rid of any and all emotion.

"Rules..." A woman, moderate in height with pale skin and soft features, holding a certain sternness in her eyes speaks, demanding the rest of the answer.

"...are meant to be followed." Riposte and her team answer in perfect unison as everyone's voice syncs into one.

"Follow me." She clicks her heels out of the room without saying anything. Riposte grabs a folder, leading the way before signaling others to bring their own with them. She doesn't look back as the others follow the all-rounder out of the room, equally curious to understand what is going on.

The walk is long and treacherous for those who oversleep only a few hours. They walk straight down for about 20 minutes, clearly crossing a mile based on Riposte's calculations. Nobody says a word, keeping up and walking with footsteps that fall on the correct beat without fail. They enter a large elevator, stone cold and freezing as they descend into the basement.

The basement.

The place where all the decisions were made. Synecdoche followed things in wacky, reversed manner, probably to align with the fact that everything done should be hidden and unconventional. If you think about it, staying at the top makes it easier to be discovered. That's why you should be the underdog, snaking your way through the cracks nobody sees or cares to check. That's how most basements are treated.

Riposte is facing forward, thoughts swirling around about why they were going to the basement. Did they royally fuck up the last mission? But they got out and succeeded...the Synecdoche got exactly what they wanted, so that didn't seem to make much sense. All steps were taken to ensure that the agency would not be discovered or linked to the killings that were done. Mostly, everything was perfect. So what was this about? Her head started to pulse knowing anything could happen but she stared at the doors of the elevator taking every one down and further away from the Synecdoche they had known. The remaining members of the group exchange looks but quickly stop when the elevator comes to a smooth yet sure halt.

The woman steps outside and Riposte finds herself rightfully gazing at the hallway. It's got UV lights illuminating the hallway with such a bright darkness she thinks she is in an alternative universe. Her clothes were lightly glowing, having worn her white uniform as everyone in the agency does. I mean, the only other color was black. Just what the day brings, she supposes.

Doors that even Riposte herself couldn't see open into a luxurious yet dark, dimly decorated room. The woman sits herself down amongst six others. She realizes they are all second to the Synecdoche themself, holding almost ultimate power as they are the minds behind influencing and cherry-picking which missions go to the said teams they are assigned to. Riposte's head stays still as she looks up at the empty chair at the peak of the room.

Of course the Synecdoche themself is not present.

"Riposte." A loud voice booms across the expanse of the room. Riposte stands still, turning her head to the source of the voice. Upon inspection, he's probably a mid-50's agent with grey eyes staring back at her with laser focus. 

"Sir." Riposte's head is still cocked in his direction, awaiting orders. He gets up and walks to the front of the room. The other four members are split evenly into pairs on either side of Riposte, also listening. 

"The Synecdoche has a mission for you. I assume you received the folders?" He's fiddling with a pocket-watch as Riposte keeps her eyes trained on the man speaking. "Yes sir." He nods.

"My name is Brass, by the way." He chuckles before walking in circle around the group and beginning his talk. "Your new mission is perhaps the most dangerous one we have as of yet in the history of this agency's standing. Time is scarce and what we need is ultimate precision. Your team has consistently performed best of the best across the divisions we have in the Synecdoche, but the mishaps of your last mission frighten us. Even otherwise, as a form of redemption and a need to seal this growing issue, we are entrusting this with you." He stops, standing to the side of Riposte but behind her and in her blind-spot. He places a hand on her shoulder before a screen rolls down in front of everyone and Riposte's eyes blink, looking up.

A single picture appears. It's unclear but clear enough for the Synecdoche's brand to show. It's someone from the agency.

"We have a mole in the agency." That sentence itself feels like a blow to Riposte, having known the agency to be absolutely seamless in all their processes. But she directs her attention when Brass starts talking again. "And we have reason to believe that they are interacting with the next target, who we will introduce in good time, and accepting money in exchange for selling any and all information related to the Synecdoche. I need not elaborate in what kind of a risk this poses. Your job is to find the mole and bring them back alive."

Riposte stares at the picture, etching it into her mind and outlining it in black, trying to memorize the details. She feels anger rise that comes from a sense of betrayal that someone dared to out the agency for which she has worked for so long.

The picture switches to a man. Tan-skin, blue eyes, likely rich based on the women placing their hand everywhere on his also probably expensive white suit. He's got rich yet superficial features which indicate a callousness Riposte finds herself internally scowling at. She hates the lack of discipline the picture shows.

"His name is Amun. We only know his first name for the formalities, but what we do know is that he has dabbled with several of the criminals this agency has sent you and other teams to deal with. His presence has never raised significant concern, but we found a hacking attempt from an unknown location whose coordinates are a little too close to his last known place of residence. With some expert help, we were able to find this out. He was also known to kidnap and torture some of our own agents who gracefully lost their life keeping the Synecdoche safe." Brass steps forward and looks at Riposte with a force now, directly into her eyes.

"Amun is having an extravagant reception to trade his most valuable items from his heirlooms for money in numbers you would love count. Billions. It comes with a twist, because he also plans to murder every single buyer in return. Riposte, what's his plan?" Brass asks sharply, attempting to catch her off guard.

She sighs inside. Nobody can get a reaction out of her.

"He's trying to break even and keep what he never meant to lose. Get the money, keep the jewels, and give the cash to our mole in exchange for everything the Synecdoche stands for. Our mole is expensive and clearly has the grounds to demand so much. Amun must be far too poor for the Synecdoche." Riposte answers, looking straight at Brass who paints his face with a smirk.

"Very good agent. Knew you would answer." He steps further back before opening his mouth, feigning hesitation.

"He has impeccable security surrounding him, but we found out that the only time he is going to be vulnerable is during an entertainment segment. He will be dancing for his billion-dollar buyers, but he's yet to choose who his partner will be. He's picky and desires someone with a certain..." Brass takes a breath as though to find the right word. 

"Rebellion." Brass lets out his air and looks directly at Riposte who's face remains unchanged. "That rebellion will be you, agent Riposte. You will learn to dance." Riposte blinks, listening and standing still.

"You have exactly one month from now to nail down any and all techniques. Your body must flow and stretch, bend and scream in pain to adjust and answer to whatever is asked of you. You will embody intimacy for the sake of this mission. There is no room for negotiation. It will be you." Brass sits back down and the room is back to how it first was, all six heads staring at Riposte and her group members.

"I almost forgot, you will have help from another all-rounder." Brass smiles, making a motion with his hand as to tell someone to step forward. Riposte looks forward but catches this in the corner of her eyes, unable to see who this all-rounder is until the body walks right in front of her and the features are all too familiar.

"Riposte, this is Kismet. He will be your teacher for this month." Kismet stares with intention and fierceness into Riposte's eyes which refuse to move, but send signals that make her heart skip a beat and restrict her breathing. 

Intimacy was her worst adversary and now, she had to trust someone with it when she could barely trust herself.

Time seemed to stand still as Riposte's thoughts began to flood and crash into the walls of her mind. Through it all, Kismet's eyes flickered briefly, accompanied by a negligible tilt in his head. They uttered certain words that Riposte quickly deciphered.

I will help you.

~

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this is a slowburn romance/adventure and eventual smut fic. stick around <3

@poohkie90 @madkohi

[harlotofandraste]

My thoughts about Dragon Age: The Veilguard (Spoiler free)

After 67.5 hours of playtime, I have finished the fourth Dragon Age game. Overall, I give it a solid 7/10.

I loved

The performance. I have a good gaming laptop, but it is still a laptop. Veilguard runs buttery-smooth, never had any lag or framerate drop or anything. Didn't have any annoying glitches, some very minor graphics bugs two or three times. I know this SHOULD be the bare minimum, but considering it has become the norm to launch games that are basically unplayable because of the number of glitches, this is something to point out!

The overall story, tone and writing. Yes, these were criticised by many people, but I don't think that the dialogue was that clunky, and I certainly did not think that the tone was "not dark enough". Genuinely, people saying the game was too lighthearted and not "dark fantasy" anymore must have played a different game than me.

The look of the environments. Inquisitions landscapes were beautiful, and Veilguard manages to top that in certain areas. Arlathan Forest is absolutely beautiful, and other places you get to explore are horrifyingly, disgustingly vile and haunting and terrifying.

The Character Creator. So many details and so many hairstyles!!! And GOOD, long hairstyles, too!!!

I liked

The Companions. Rook's interactions with the companions is different than in Origins and Inquisition, most similar to DA2. You can't just always come talk to them. But they interact with each other far more than in previous games!! And I am glad there isn't a party banter glitch like in Inquisition - the banter triggers early and often. No hourlong running around in dead silence! And I also liked all the companions as characters, a lot!

The voice acting. Again, I don't really get the complaints so many people seem to have over the voice acting. Really solid imo!

The Combat. I did NOT think I would ever say that. It took a long while to get used to it because I am simply not used to playing action combat games. I only played on Keeper difficulty (2nd easiest), but that was ideal for me to figure everything out. I played a duelist rogue, haven't tried other classes. And I appreciated the uncomplicated respeccing. Especially because I was really intimidated by the complicated look of the skill tree. For rook and the companions, you can respec any skill at any time, so you can play around and try what works best for you.

Exploring. The game is not open-world and I think it was a good choice. But the relatively small areas are packed full with treasures to find. There are little puzzles everywhere. I am a sucker for that kind of stuff. Love puzzles and riddles. Only not putting this under "loved" because it kind of messed with the pacing for me in certain quests. ("Someone's in mortal peril? Sure, hang on, lemme get that treasure chest first")

Certain lore revelations. No spoilers! But we learn some big stuff. I think this was done well for the most part.

I was fine with

The look of the Characters. I was VERY worried about that at first because in general I am not a big fan of the cartoonish artstyle. What was odd is that not all characters seem equally cartoonish? Emmrich seems much more cartoonish than Davril, for example. That is an inconsistency that I found quite annoying. In general, could have been better, could have been worse. I really miss the DA2 look of the Qunari. That Arishok... still thinking about him.

The romance. So I have only romanced Neve, and it was nice. I know other romances are different, they might give you a bit... more. Again, don't want to spoil anything but.... There could have been more.

Cameos/tie-in of established characters. I want to keep this spoiled-free so I won't go into specifics. It was nice meeting some of them again, some of them were.... NOT done right. Yeah I'll reblog this post with a few spoilery thoughts on that. This could have been done a LOT better.

I did not like

Lore inconsitencies. I don't mean major, story-relevant stuff here, just some minor details. It's expected that they will get some stuff wrong but.... ugh. still annoying!!!

The villains are very black-and-white. When I think of Dragon Age Villains, I think of complex characters like Zathrian, Loghain, even the Arishok or Prince Bhelen. Characters you can empathize with, feel sorry for, even side with. The game is very lacking in that kind of complexity.

Lack of impactful, difficult choices. In previous installments, I AGONIZED over so many choices. Harrowmont or Bhelen? Celine or Gaspard? Kill or spare the Architect? Choices I took a long time to think about, choices where the game (and other media) gives you little snippets of information, not enough that you know what the right choice is for sure, but you have a lot to think about and to consider. This does not exist in this game. At all.

Rook can't be evil. I know Rook needs to be the hero. But so did the Warden, Hawke and the Herald. I personally don't like playing the "bad guy". But I like having the choice! If you have the choice to sacrifice Feynriel to the Sloth Demon, it makes the decision to do the right think just so much more meaningful.

And Rook's dialogue options are quite flat, too. The game uses tone indicators like in DA2 and Inquisition, but the tone barely even differs. The joking/sarcastic replies are not that funny (purple Hawke i miss you you will always be famous). The "aggressive" replies are really not that aggressive. Overall, that makes Rook feel quite flat.

I am VERY unhappy with

Okay. Deep breaths. No spoilers. But this game has... issues. For a game that has been in developement for such a long time, there are many aspects that are just unfinished. The Lords of Fortune for example. The entire faction makes barely any sense.

Ignoring most of the worldstate choices... This has been discussed at length before the release, so no need to get into it. But I have always admired Bioware for how they managed to tie in choices from previous games - even if they were just "throwaway oneliners". That was what made the world of Thedas feel real. That's what made Dragon Age special.

The lack of conflict and how slavery in Tevinter is just glossed over. Okay hear me out. I do NOT want more fantasy racism because I think it is cool or whatever. But we're in Tevinter for big parts of the game!! The dreaded empire that everyone in southern Thedas is scared of, where slavery is normal and they do blood magic for fun. All that worldbuilding and the setup is just... basically ignored. The venatori are throwaway enemies just like in inquisition, the politics of Tevinter are almost entirely ignored. And that is, I think, where Veilguard fails to be a proper Dragon Age game. DA was always about mirroring real life conflicts, adressing themes of prejudice, war, racism, homophobia and mental illness directly or through metaphors. Making you think about morality, both your PC's morality and your own as a player and a person. This game... this game doesn't challenge any sort of believes you might have as a person in that way. This is, in my opinion, the biggest failure of the game. The critical look at the real world, through the lense of a dark fantasy game. And if a Dragon Age game is missing that, then it just... misses it's heart and it's soul. Unfortunately, glitches can be fixed but there is no way to patch this.

Final thoughts

Okay, back to a bit more positivity. I enjoyed the game. I really, really had a lot of fun. I screamed, I cried real tears, I felt for the companions and I laughed at the funny moments. Dragon Age: The Veilguard is a good game. Not perfect. And it is perfectly understandable to be critcal of it, unfortunately a lot of criticism gets lost in either "it's too woke" or people who clearly have not played past the first act.

But in general, I think both Dragon Age fans and newcomers will enjoy it and have a good time.