#and ive become endeared to miles......

[cinnamonest]

heyeyey how are you?? I was wondering if you would ever consider writing a little thing about a darling who actually comes to love the yandere nature/ already loves it in regards to some characters? Or what do you think about a darling like that ? I’ve been trying to find something similar where the darling likes the yan nature of it all, such as us readers who, despite the wickedness of it all, enjoy the concept on paper.

(**ive yet to find a story like this, but then i guess it becomes hard for it to really grasp the essence of a yandere story if the darling themselves like it 🤔🤔**)

As much as I'm a noncon enthusiast, I actually do also like the concept of a darling who's just... okay with it. Kidnapped? Hey, rent-free living. Rivals killed? Didn't care about those people anyway. Fucked endlessly? Could be worse. And maybe you even think your captor is rather cute.

Of course, it would be best for those who dislike defiance the most, or who are generally the most severe -- namely that would be Kaeya and Xiao, who have some of the worst living conditions and tempers to match. Zhongli/Diluc are also pretty restrictive in that regard, but at least Zhongli takes you outside and with Diluc you have house staff for interaction, whereas with Kaeya/Xiao the only other voices you get to hear is you talking to yourself after getting that bored, not to mention Xiao likely literally restraining you hand and foot at all times. So if you actually can enjoy that and find it endearing... that's beneficial to all involved. Kaeya and Zhongli are a little more delusional, so they just accept it -- of course you're fine with it, you love him, you're happy, why wouldn't you be? Honestly this type of darling enables them to essentially just live the life they want to be living, a life where the relationship is "normal," neither party objecting to it.

If you actually enjoy the possessive behaviors, well, he can even go the extra mile! Kaeya is more eager regarding that, maybe you're just... into that. He likes it if you're into his possessiveness, but to be honest he can get a bit irritated if you get turned on when he's actually mad -- like no, you're not supposed to be enjoying that, he'd mad dammit this is supposed to be a punishment.... Zhongli thinks it's cute, but to be honest he'd just kind of keep going about your life and relationship normally -- certainly plenty of such situations will arise on their own, he sees no need to create artificial ones (although you may get some extra-possessive talk in bed).

Diluc and Xiao are more taken aback, they're aware enough to realize you probably... shouldn't be okay with it, they had kinda not bothered to hope that you'd like it, only that you'd get used to it... so they're both a little shocked when you react so positively. You're okay with, like, everything? Even the part where you're locked in a tiny room all day and he kinda sorta killed everyone close to you? Both are actually pretty ecstatic really, but Diluc is a lot more cautious, thinking that it could be a trap on your end, you're just pretending to like it so that he'll be more lax and you can make your escape. While Xiao tends to be suspicious of a darling who is reluctant or unwilling, he's actually surprisingly naive to a darling that accepts him from the get-go, he just believes you're being honest and allows himself to be happy about it (making it that much more soul-crushing if darling actually is faking it to trick him).

Now if darling truly enjoys the behaviors... well... they're both a bit stumped. Uh, okay... let's see, how to capitalize on that... unlike Kaeya/Zhongli, these two are much less smooth and will definitely be very awkward in their attempts. Diluc basically just tries to constantly remind you of the rules. You know you're uh, here forever right? And you can't leave ever. And you can't talk to anyone. That's... what you like right? He doesn't get it, but he's happy you like it... it's... it's really painfully awkward, he's just trying to get a pleased reaction out of you (and maybe a horny one? Please?) But Xiao is worse. What's that smell you're waking up to? Oh, just corpses. He just kinda awkwardly sits there next to you, gestures to them. See? People that came too close to the nest. He took care of them. That's good right? I mean he would've done it anyway, but if you like it so much he'll show you. Are you happy? You're happy right? Does that mean sex now pls?

Scaramouche is somewhere in the middle. Like, just... "oh." He enjoys tormenting and breaking you down, but, he's not exactly going to complain when you accept him so readily.... breaking you would have been fun, though. He's actually one of the most likely, along with Diluc, to be very suspicious and cautious of your apparently acceptance, thinking that it's a ploy and you're trying to get him to let his guard down, might even preemptively accuse you of doing so. He'll accept it after a while... and unfortunately, it really goes to his head. The fact that you accepted him so easily must mean he's doing something right, so it really boosts his ego, which he will then make everyone's problem.

There is one who would dislike it though -- Childe. Just like with the "darling becoming nonresponsive/bad mental health" post, he just has that urge for chaos and violence and the fact that you accept him so easily is a little... anticlimactic. Boring, even. It gets under his skin. He's like that "c'mon... do something" meme, he starts intentionally trying to become worse, find something to do that will make you snap and pout and be a brat so that he can wreck you like he really wants to. So in other words, prepare for him to become significantly more annoying. It's such a weird duality because like, of course he wants you to love him and like him, how could he not? He just... wants you to also not like him... so he can make you like him... but then also like him even though you don't, and dislike him when you do like him... simple.

[17wishbones]

“Mugen Train” was such a treat that I HAD to write some short stories with the infamous, focused, and amazing Flame Pillar, Rengoku Kyōjurō. Easily one of my favorite characters. His handsome, flamboyant self needed juuust a smidge of more screen time and it would have been perfect.

S/N: Majority of my fanfics will be written towards women of color. Big FYI. Otherwise, enjoy.

- - - - - - - -  ______________________________________

                                         Kimetsu no Yaiba: Flame Eternal

                               Chapter I: OVERWHELMING CONFESSION

“Good morning, Sunflower!”

“Kyōjurō, please!” You whispered through clenched teeth, “You can’t be scaring me this early in the morning.” The Fire Hashira, Rengoku Kyōjurō, surprised you with a greeting by hanging his head down from the rooftop of the Butterfly Estate.

“My apologies! I wanted to see you as soon as I could.” He jumped down with one hand behind his back. “Congratulations on becoming a Hashira! You have worked hard to get where you are, and that you should be proud of yourself!”

The fire in his eyes burned bright as always. He didn’t know it yet, but he was a driving force in you making it to the ranks, and it wasn’t easy. At all. You were a rare sight in Japan. Everyone still thought of you as a foreigner. No matter how good your Japanese was, not many could understand the concept that people of different colors could be a native to this country.

You have fought for acceptance for a long time, and with the rise of demons, that put unneeded targets on your back. Just like the others, you lost your family to them, and it was but the anger in your heart that brought you here - to avenge those who were killed by demons. You didn’t know if you really had what it took.

Kind and supportive words from Rengoku Kyōjurō had changed a couple of the most important minds, but others were not so keen on the idea. You pushed yourself every day, working and training day in and day out until your body shook with aches. You honestly wanted to give up many times, and tried, but there was someone always pulling you back and helping you to your feet.

“That’s because of you, Kyōjurō.”

He shook his head. “It’s because of you, Sunflower! With perseverance and vigor, you made it through Final Selection and achieved your goals in order to be a Hashira! Therefore, I wanted to be one of the first to congratulate you!”

The confidence and support of his words always made you get “butterflies” in your stomach and your cheeks warm beneath your brown skin. “Stop! You’re making me blush but,” you bowed, “Thank you, Kyōjurō, for everything.”

You had locked your hair months before you trained for the Final Selection. Your hair had been on as much of a journey as you had. It reached down to the shoulder blades. And with these locs, you were in need of a floral decoration to commemorate this special day as you donned your uniform. 

“Now, to get a sunflower-”

“Right!” He handed a small bouquet of sunflowers, your favorite flower that he nicknamed you back during those harsh training days. “For you, _____!”

“Ah!” You received his early morning gift with glee. “Kyōjurō, you shouldn’t have!” One smell and you were hooked. “Thank you so much!” You set them down in the room Shinobu offered you to stay in. You clipped one off and wrapped it up on the left side of your head. “How do I look?”

He looked at you, surprised at first, and then with an ear-to-ear smile. “As beautiful as always, _____!” 

You felt your heart thumping throughout your chest. His words of sincerity always made you feel like you belonged. Not to mention, his fiery gaze upon you held true when he spoke to and of you. “You’re much too kind, Kyōjurō.” Before you attended to your face, Kyōjurō was already before you, wiping away your falling tears.

“You’re crying. What’s wrong?”

Whenever your world began crumbling, he was there and ready to help you get through any self-doubt. He ended up being a shoulder to cry on when you least expected it. He rose to Hashira-dom before you, and yet didn’t leave you behind. You owed him something in return. “N-nothing! I’m happy.” You took hold of his wrists, lowering his hands. “Though I wonder how I’ll ever be able to show you my gratitude.”

“Hmph!” He clasped your hands in one swift motion and stared longingly into your coffee-colored eyes. “Marry me, _____!”

You deadpanned.

Nature filled in the silence.

“I said, “Marry me, _____!”

Your mouth dropped wide open, “MARRY YOU!?” 

“Yes! Do you accept?”

“Wait, wait, wait!” You drew back your hands and stepped back. You rubbed your temples, momentarily confused. Stumped. Dumbfounded. “This is a test of some sort, right? A little bit of an early morning joke to keep me on my toes?”

He laughed heartily. “Not at all!” He locked his gaze on you as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I know that you will make a great wife!”

“Kyōjurō, I’m not like you or the others, as clear as they have made it in the past. I wouldn’t want to hinder you or mess up your reputation.”

“Our Master has allowed you to apply to become a Hashira; you worked hard to become a Hashira; and you have become more than a great friend to me. No matter what anyone else says, I have accepted you.” He closed in and held your hands once more. “I knew since training, to which you promised me your hand in marriage.”

“Eh!? You remembered that!?” You questioned. 

“When I saw you at training for the first time. I knew that I had to make you mine! I have waited for this day for a long time. So, I will ask you again. _____.”

You gulped. “Yes, Kyōjurō?”

“Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

“I-I,” your hands were clammy and your world started to spin. ‘What are you going to say? He asked you to marry him! Look, look! So what if you fed him a sweet potato every Friday and fell into his arms a few times? You need to let him down softly. Yeah! That’s it! Just refuse his proposal! He’ll understand-” Your mouth opened before you could finish. “Yes…?” You paused. ‘Bitch, did you just--?’

His aura suddenly grew hot around you both. “Then I promise to make you happy, to protect you, to guide you, and to love you until death!” With overwhelming confessions like this, how could you refuse?

“That’s great! But shouldn’t we--” You made a fatal mistake. “Kyōjurō?” You blinked. “Oh no!” He was gone in a flash! “Kyōjurō, wait!” You shouted as you dashed out of the Butterfly Estate. You only got a quick glimpse of his flaming haori, but he was still so fast! You thought you possibly had him when you ran into the other Hashira, assembled for the Pillar Meeting.

“Ah, _____! I was just about to come and get you for the meeting.” Shinobu came before you with her usually endearing smile. “Congratulations on becoming a Hashira. It’s been a long time since we’ve had anyone enter into the ranks, and for it to be someone as unique as you says something.”

“As if! You were only able to join because of Rengoku, and nothing else.” Obanai hissed from atop a tree branch. You really hated his guts.

“But you can’t deny her strength. She did kill fifty demons in a year and a half. That’s at least impressive, right?” Tengen remarked. He was a nice guy, in a way, so you liked him.

Shinazugawa pointed his sword at you. “As long as she doesn’t get in the way of me killing demons, I could care less.” 

‘And I could care less myself.’ You thought with a frown on your lips.

Mitsuri was at least nice enough to give you a smile and a wave. “You look so pretty in your uniform, _____!” You liked her the most, along with Shinobu.

Giyuu and Muichiro didn’t speak on the matter.

“Thank you to those most kind, and to the others, you’ll just have to get used to seeing me like I have to get used to seeing you. Anyways, I came here looking for Rengoku. Did he pass by yet?”

“By pass by, do you mean standing at the top of the roof behind you?” Tengen pointed out.

You looked confused as you turned around and felt your face just fall into shock as you saw him proudly standing on the rooftop - again - with a wide smile on his lips. “Kyōjurō!”

He gently took hold of you at the waist when you landed in front of him. “I’ve got you, Sunflower!” His eyes burned brighter than they ever had before, and the aura he exuded could be felt from miles away. “Everyone!” He turned to the Hashira below. “Let us welcome _____, our new Hashira, and my soon-to-be wife, to the team!” Everyone’s face cracked. “Treat her like she’s one of our own!”

Really, what would you do without this flamboyant Hashira?

- - - - - - - -

Chapter: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII (Part 1) / (Part 2) / (Part 3)

[shhhlikeme]

I ALMOST NEVER SEE ANYONE WRITE ABOUT ARAN SO IM JUMPING IN- ;-; Can I ask for his girl helping him relieve some stress, massaging him and his hands then just a nice cuddle session after..? also Ive been shy to hop in but hi you're pretty and Id love to be friends with you ;-;

UMMM A BIG ACCOUNT LIKE YOURS THAT JUST REACHED 1.25K followers (congrats beb!!) peeps my work ?? And compliments me + gave me my first Aran requestttt ?!

*faints*

I feel like this is a proposal and the answer is YES boo 💍🥰 friendssss 🥺🤗

Anyway I hope you like it newest friend💞

————————————

Some Aran Ojiro x Reader Romance 😩🌹

————————————

you and your boyfriend Aran haven’t been able to see eachother much in the past year at all

He just made the Japan National Team which meant he was practicing and travelling all the time

You two keep up with nightly Facetime dates every night which is great but he almost always falls asleep on you in the first 20 minutes

sleepy muffin that we love so much

You don’t blame him considering his training regimen.

When he wakes up he’s literally talking your ear off apologizing because he feels like a shit boyfriend for falling asleep every time

“I did it again and I know you say it’s fine but it’s not. I’m so sorry Y/N. When I get home, I promise I’ll make it up to you baby girl, I promise. Have a great day Queen and remember I’ll be home to spoil you in 10 days. You’re not ready. I love you! Peace!”

As you lay in your empty bed the next morning, you just smile at the video of him apologizing to you while he is running around his hotel room to get ready for morning practice

Your man works so hard but he never fails to make sure he’s the first thing you see when you wake up and the last person you see before you fall asleep. It’s endearing

He is super super busy being a professional athlete but that doesn’t stop him from making you feel special in the little and big ways

Sometimes, he orders you breakfast or dinner from your favourite brunch or sushi spot that you two like to go to so that he can put a smile on your face when he’s travelling

All he asks in return is a cute selfie of you in your pjs and messy bun with the food and that is the only thank you he needs

Seriously send it though or he’ll spam your phone lol

Can I tell you a funny story related to your mans sweet foodie gestures?

Okay so One random night last weekend.....

You heard a knock on the door of your condo and you quickly paused your Netflix movie to dust the popcorn crumbs off Aran’s t-shirt you were wearing

You opened the door excitedly thinking it might be another Uber Eats surprise from your boyfriend but instead you see a grumpy looking Osamu standing in the delivery guys place

“Your boyfriend is annoying.” Osamu deadpanned as he glanced at you once before letting himself in.

“Uh, Nice to see you.....too, Osamu-san.”

Samu murmured something in response grumpily and went over to your kitchen island to place down a large brown paper bag.

“Stupid professional volleyball playing friend and brother,” He muttered under his breath. You watched him take out lots of food from his restaurant from your spot by the door, by the look (and amazing smell) of it the bag was packed with all your favourites. You were thrilled even though the grey haired boy in your kitchen wasn’t.

“Look at me! I’m Aran. My stupid Uber Eats app won’t work from mutant-spider Australia so instead of just chilling like a normal person I call and beg my very handsome and very successful restaurant-owner friend to make my girlfriend all her favourite dishes and drive them over in the middle of a rain storm. A rain storm!”

You held your ground back at the door (knowing good and well not to get in the way of Samu when he was in one of his signature bitchy moods) as a smile crept on your face. It felt like someone was squeezing your heart as you watched Osamu comfortably rummage through your cabinets and find your dishes. He plated your food beautifully like the professional chef he is, all while mumbling angrily under his breath about his quote unquote “Simp of a best friend.”

When he was done with the food, Osamu also pulled out a bottle of your favourite wine from his restaurant that only Aran knows about and poured you a glass perfectly, swaying the liquid around first to make sure it was rich. Satisfied but still annoyed, Osamu cleaned his restaurant’s paper bag contents away and then walked over to your spot on the couch to take a handful of popcorn. Still a grump, he met you back at the door.

Samu looked down at you with the irritated expression you’ve become accustomed to over the years.

“Aran also told me to give you this.” He deadpanned before leaning down to kiss the top off your head then left. You smiled, unable to stop bubbling over in giggles because you knew Aran just added that to annoy his affection-challenged best friend. You poked your head out to the hallway of your condo building, seeing Osamu’s retreating figure you sang:

“Thank you, Samuuuuuu! 🎶”

Effectively adding to his annoyance just like your boyfriend would have wanted you to.

Without looking back, Osamu just lifted up a cool peace sign that your boyfriend and the two brothers were notorious for.

That trio, man.

dinner that night was the best you’ve had in forever

Not only was it delicious but

You realized that very night that your boyfriend was the most remarkable human in the world and you didn’t deserve him

You checked your phone as you sipped your wine because you received several texts from your boy asking where his picture of you eating is and also asking how funny Samu’s reaction was

You giggled as you read the text and then you had an idea! 💡

You put down your phone and quickly changed into some lacy lingerie for the picture:

Your boyfriend always asked for simple ‘rates PG’ pics because he loved to see you bare faced and wearing his big clothes. It was so cute to him.

he would make each new picture you sent his two backgrounds on his phone and he relished in the fact that you were so beautiful when you didn’t try

You knew this, but you also knew that your man deserved a little ‘sumn sumn’ for making tonight so special for you 😉

You put on a little sultry makeup to go with your sexy number and went back to the kitchen to your food and wine

You took a much sexier picture than he would ever expect

Actually you chose to send him a boomerang:

one of your hair slightly disheveled and your tits basically out despite the lacy cover. You pressed the wine glass to your red lips and winked in the boomerang, wiggling your hips ever so seductively

•••

in a luxurious hotel in Australia, your stunning boyfriend just finished his shower in his hotel room

He dried his face with a towel and opened his iMessage app on his phone... effectively ignoring the:

“🖕��🖕🏼🖕🏼it’s done.🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼”

text from his best friend Osamu and clicking your name instead

Aran swiped left on his phone hoping to see another cute picture of his girlfriend being sent to him that makes his day the brightest but what he actually sees instead almost makes him drop his phone out of his wet hands

No Deadass he almost dropped it! it slipped out of his hands 4 times

His heart beating because of his phone but mostly because you were the finest woman he’s ever seen, he replays your sexy boomerang 30 times, literally engraving every detail about you into his mind. If his teammates weren’t so nosy he’d love to make what you just sent him his background on his phone......but that wouldn’t work

He really treasured you and what you sent though. For Aran, the next 9 days at this Global Tournament could not go by fast enough.

Aran’s never asked for naughty pictures from you not once because he doesn’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, but seeing that you did it on your own, of course it made him want to skip his National game tomorrow just to fly back and make love to you all night then rub your back the way you like until you fell asleep

Mans is in LOVE, you feel me?

He wanted to show you just how treasured you are for sticking by his side through all this travelling shit. He wanted you to always know you were his queen even if he was miles away

So, by you sending this sexy Boomerang and treating him like a King even though you didn’t have to, your man fell even harder for you

He had so much planned when he came home like always: spoil you with a shopping trip with your girls, a romantic spa trip for you both and a trip to the amusement park, but it seemed so far away now

Frowning, Aran texted you back a paragraph telling you how beautiful you are and how lucky he was to have you in his life for a plethora of reasons

He Facetime’d you for the expected classic 20 minutes while you wore that lingerie BUT he actually stayed up for 36 minutes because he was fighting sleep like a damn boxer. He wanted to see you... but of course his fatigue got the better of him and he fell asleep with a big smile on his face because you whispered goodnight

•••

the next day, after sleeping in, Aran woke up for his first tournament game and did all of his pre-game rituals which included calling you, and his best friends Kita & the twins.

He proceeded to his 6:00pm game as planned in the grand court of Sydney.

Aran sweetly signed autographs and Jerseys with his name on it that fans and little kids eagerly presented to him before and after the game that they had won.

“Mr. Ran’! Mr. ‘Ran! Volleybwall is my most favouritest sport to pway , too! Can I have hug???” Asked a particularly bouncy little African-Australian girl in the crowd. Aran glances at the dad for permission and upon granting Aran nodded kindly and picked up the toddler so she was propped up on his hip. The girl wrapped her miniature arms around the big volleyball star’s neck and squeezed tightly. Aran chuckled in his deep voice, exclaiming an “Ow! You’re a strong one, aren’t you? A future Ace for sure.” The little girl gasped at her idols words and hugged him harder. The dad had to literally rip her out of Ojiro’s arms because she didn’t want to let go.

“Don’t break the volleyball player, honey. They’re sore.” Said the father to his daughter.

Aran reached in his gym bag to collect a clean tournament shirt from his bag and handed it to the hysterically crying little girl. “Sore is an understatement. But....here, ‘future Ace.’ When you make the National Women’s Team and I’m the one at one of your games, maybe you can give it back to me.”

The little girl’s whole life was made as she immediately stopped crying and smiled widely, hugging the shirt close to her chest as if it might disappear if she let go.

Because he was a teddy bear and wanted to sign as many kids memorabilia as possible, plus give the youth encouraging messages....Aran usually stayed an hour or two later than the other players after their away games. Telling his teammates to go on ahead back to their hotel without him

HE’S PERFECT 😩

Sore as hell and more tired than ever after his big games, he picked up his phone to call you on his way back to the hotel

He loved hearing your voice it was so soothing to him

No answer. He tried 5 times.

Thinking you were probably working hard from home, Ojiro dragged his feet past the hotel concierge and used all of his slumped body weight to push open the door to his hotel room.

He didn’t remember it being this dark in here or even shutting off the lights when he left, but being too tired to care he dropped his huge bag on the floor, gripping his aching shoulder as he took one step to the right to flip on the lights

When he did, he had to rub his sleepy eyes because he couldn’t believe what he saw

“Y-Y/N?!”

Standing in the middle of his hotel room, you smiled brightly and ran to your boyfriend, wrapping your legs around his waist in a koala hug. You wore that lacy number you used in the picture you sent him last night. Your man stumbled back from the impact and overall surprise but once he was stable he hugged you back tightly.

“Oh my God, you look incredible, what-what are you doing here?!” He asked, still in disbelief.

You pecked his lips and jumped down. “After last night I missed you so much. So I just called into work, booked a 9-hour direct flight and now I’m here! I’m staying for the rest of the tournament. Hi, handsome!!!!” You had so much happiness and light in your eyes that it literally woke up your boyfriend by contentment, even though he was just on the verge of collapsing on his bed from fatigue minutes ago.

He grabbed your face softly in his large hands and tilted your head up towards his to give you a proper kiss, letting you know how happy he was through the kiss.

You pulled away. “Whoa! Someone’s happy to see me!” You poked his tummy.

“An understatement—Wait, what is that?” Finally looking away from your face for the first time since he entered his room, Aran looked behind you in awe. There was a rather large massage table set up in the centre of his suite.

“Oh, that old thing?!” You questioned playfully as you jogged over to the big table and showcased it with your hands like a Wheel of Fortune prize girl. “I tried to book a massage for you for tomorrow because I know you always forget, but they were all booked obviously so I just asked the guy downstairs—after name dropping you—if they could bring this up and they had no problem with it!”

Aran looked at you incredulously so you continued. “Lay down, babe. I know you must be sore after your game. I ordered food for you too but they said it will be up here in an hour and a half. So, I’ll get out some of your kinks now, we’ll eat, and then I can massage you more until you fall asleep.”

Aran couldn’t believe this was happening.

“But you just got off a flight, Y/N! You must be tired, too! I couldn’t possibly—“

You gave your boyfriend your best Osamu impression with your seriously annoyed frown. “Aran. You do everything in your power to make sure that I’m feeling more than amazing every single day even when you are halfway across the world. So now since I’m a mere halfway across the room, I want to do this for you. Please. Let me return the favour.”

Feeling too tired to bicker and knowing you meant business, your big man gave in. He removed his shirt when you asked and settled face down on the comfortable table.

You put on some soft r&b and took out the essential oils you bought from the spa and began to give your man a sensual but remarkable rub down, taking immense care in soothing his muscle pain in his legs and back

You listened for his groans when you reached particularly sensitive spots on his back and spent a lot more time in those areas

When you were massaging his shoulders you made sure to lean down every few minutes to kiss the side of his neck and Aran would sigh in delight every time.

“Y/N. I know you want to get all of my kinks out and trust me this feels amazing, but, if you keep kissing me dressed like that I’ll stop this massage to make love to you on this table. Okay?”

You giggled and smacked his booty.

“Kay.” 😇

When the food came, you and Aran opted to sit on the couch and eat, feeding eachother and kissing and just being all cute n shit—🙄

A/N: Can you tell how jealous I am?

After dinner and your night routines, you told your baby to give you his hands in bed.

you lotioned them in between your smaller ones and gave him a long, much desired, kneading hand massage in the pitch black room until he was on the verge of falling asleep.

“I love you, Y/N.” whispered Ojiro, his deep voice slower because he was half asleep. “Please be here when I wake up....” He whispered before succumbing to a deep slumber.

You stopped your massage, kissed both of his hands and cuddled into his warm body.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, Aran.” You closed your eyes too, feeling sleep wash over you as well.... “I’ll always be here.”

[ashistrashhh]

here are some fic recs!! including sakuatsu, bokuaka, kuroken and matsuhana bc i couldnt help myself

if you want, ask me about a certain ship and ill give you some recs!

-sakuatsu-

Marble and Sandstone by red_camellia

rating: G words: 12,937 chapters: 2/2 

author summary: Miya Atsumu only cares about volleyball and nothing else. That is, until he develops a strange obsession with the marble statue of a young man that seems vaguely familiar in his university's arts department. One day that statue comes alive as the very real Sakusa Kiyoomi, and they are left with the mystery of why Sakusa Kiyoomi was turned into a statue and only came back to life when Atsumu touched him. Their new-found connection and the strange mystery turns Atsumu's life upside down, not least because of his growing feelings for Sakusa.

my notes: this was a rlly cute fic!!! 11/10 would read again!!

let it go (paint my body gold) by lunarism

rating: T words: 3,272 chapters: 1/1

author summary: It becomes a routine for them. Sometimes they go grocery shopping and make dinner together, other times they end up talking until Sakusa feels like his own shower and bed is calling him. Every single time Sakusa gets home, shrugs his coat off, balls it up, and proceeds to scream profusely into the fabric for a few minutes.

my notes: pining!!! sakusa!!! also casual painter!atsumu!!! and they paint together!!!

craft a miracle with these hands, lips, (silence) by chrysanthe (sonderesque)

rating: T words: 4,252 chapters: 1/1

author summary: ‘Someone is here to ruin your night,’ his door tells him. ‘You should let them in.’ “I’M HOMELESS OMI-OMI. HOMELESS,” yells the one here to ruin his night. “LET ME IN.”

(What does Kiyoomi sell his sanctuary for?)

my notes: hnnn rlly fuckin cute,, and domestic,,,,

Clipped To You by littleboat

rating: T words: 8,174 chapters: 1/1

author summary: It starts with Hinata Natsu, of all people.

Well, if Atsumu’s being honest with himself, it started way before that, but he’s not, so that’s besides the point. And thankfully, he’s just petty enough to blame all of his problems on a thirteen year old girl.

or Sakusa starts wearing hair clips and Atsumu is more than a little obsessed

my notes: minor kagehina, bokuaka // god these fics rlly make me simp for fictional characters even more than i should. but!! sakusa!!! in hairclips!!! and a pining atsumu!!!

learn how to lay me down in something other than danger, other than fury by rosevtea 

words: 34,211 chapters: 1/1

author summary: All of the ways fellow college TA Miya Atsumu reinvents Kiyoomi's definition of normal.

my notes: god i loved this. it’s a fake dating au and like,, even though they’re “dating” sakusa keeps letting his guard down little by little around atsumu and it surprises everyone. komori and akaashi just know  that they’re were genuinely pining for eachother

among probabilities and a thousand fates by aalphard

rating: T words: 15,675 chapters: 1/1

author summary: prompt fill for “in a world where the red string of fate exists, person a’s finger always twitches when person b, who can see the string, tugs on their string” | or sakusa thought he had a tic and atsumu liked to see his confused expression when it started to happen exclusively when he was around.

my notes: i! loved! it!! so basically atsumu and osamu have the rare gift of seeing the red string of fate, so they know its real but sakusa, like most other people dont believe it exists. so atsumu gives sakusa a (kinda) hard time. rlly cute!! i love soulmate aus!

-bokuaka- 

love in the time of wifi by dalyeau

rating: G words: 4,177 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Akaashi is coming to terms with the fact that he might be romantically interested in his volleyball captain. Hence, doing what any sixteen year old with a problem should do. He asks about it online.

my notes: really cute fic about akaashi asking what he should do about his crush on a site similar to reddit. its kinda a “i didnt know it was you” kind of fic and it made me happy

steam by orphan_account

rating: E words: 8,474 chapters: 1/1

author summary:

 bokuto: why is he so hot bokuto: why am i so gay kuroo: LMAO you mean your vice captain right bokuto: yeah

The coach blew the whistle for practice to begin, and Bokuto drummed his fingers against the bleachers, awaiting Kuroo’s reply. He was about to walk away, when his phone buzzed in his hand.kuroo: i got this bro bokuto: what bokuto: wtf does that mean

Bokuto started to panic.

my notes: explicit!!! but really wholesome. kuroo is honestly the best wingman. i also think this is my favourite bokuaka smutfic?? 

just to miss the sun by rosevtea

rating: T words: 15,126 chapters:1/1

author summary: Everything begins to implode when MSBY Jackals outside hitter Bokuto Koutarou crashes Akaashi's livestream.

my notes: akaashi is a booktuber and bokuto crashes one of his streams. fans begin to speculate. rlly fluffy and can u tell i like bokuaka

brain fish by iceblinks

rating: T words: 12,026 chapters: 6/6

author summary: Akaashi wakes up to a string of texts from an unknown number. 

my notes: i love text fics and i love wrong number aus so u can tell how much i loved this. really fluffy and i come back to it time to time

-kuroken-

us three by honey_s

rating: T words: 5,137 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Kuroo’s gaze flits over to the utensil. His eyes bulge out of his skull. “Wh—is that a meat hammer? Put it back!” Akaashi’s head recoils back in confusion. “I don’t understand the problem here.” “Why on Earth have you got a fucking meat hammer? We aren’t going to kill somebody!” “Well,” Akaashi begins, clearly taken aback, “I apologise for assuming. I had heard Kenma-san had been hurt in school and after getting a message from both of you to meet late at night, I merely filled in the blanks and assumed we were going to beat someone up, for lack of a better term.” “Not literally! I meant metaphorically, or figuratively, or something!” “Idiomically?” “That isn’t a word, Bokuto-san.” “Jesus Christ,” Kuroo groans, dropping his head into his hands. “We're going to jail."

my notes: bokuaka and kuroo are ready to beat someone up for kenma!! and we stan!! 

Cherry Pits and Cat Tattoos by strawberryriver

rating: G words: 6,141 chapters: 1/1

author summary: 

Kuroo has been in communication with his soulmate ever since they were kids. They've known each other for so long that he never really worried about when or how he would meet them. At least, not until he meets the roommate of Bokuto's soulmate.Soulmate AU in which things written on your skin show up on your soulmate. Companion piece/same AU as Serendipty

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

Kuroo Tetsurou liked to write on his arms. Despite his mother's half-serious warnings about “ink poisoning” or staining his skin, he insisted on marking his arms and legs wherever he could. Not like his best-friend-since-always Bokuto Koutaro, who had to write on his arms or he’d forget to breathe, but artfully. He’d draw designs, animals, the occasional chemical compound. The whole idea behind soulmates fascinated him: how one person could mark their arm and someone potentially thousands of miles away, would have that same mark appear. The amount of articles, studies, and books he’d read about the topic, even at a young age, could put an undergrad researcher to shame.

my notes: again with the soulmate au bc i cannot help myself. but really cute!!! probably gonna read this again later!

Boom, Toasted by protostar (hearthope)

rated: T words: 6,782 chapters: 1/1

author summary:

 FROM: yuuji any bets on who hes texting??

FROM: eita He's smiling at his phone. Kuroo, probably

FROM: kentarou Kuroo

TO: fake family Have any of you ever once considered not prying

FROM: eita You deserve it

FROM: yuuji how can we not when ur in love!!

Kenma gets a text from an unknown number. He'd be lying if he said the guy behind it wasn't kind of endearing.

my notes: again, i love wrong number texts. it focuses more on kenma’s friendship, but kenma’s pov with texting kuroo is more than him realizing feelings and stuff. really cute, ive read it multiple times. 

Japan's most subscribed by NeverNothing

rating: T words: 3,631 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Kuroo Tetsurou @blacktetsurou changed his bio : volleyball player, co-owner of Bouncing Ball Corp. and so much more ;)

my notes: i! love! social media! fics!!! really cute and basically people wondering who the mysterious kuroo is to applepi. 

MATSUHANA!!! the underrated gem

texting (with a capital S) by parenthetic

rating: M words: 2,119 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Hanamaki breaks his No Texting In Class rule, and it's all downhill from there.

my notes: honestly more funny than it suggests, but its matsuhana, they’re meme lords.

rated m for by orphan_account

rated: T words: 10,692 chapters: 1/1

author summary: He should have known that there was a Specific Reason™ why it was so absolutely vital that he and Matsukawa specifically meet for a reading of the script. He should have known that there had to be some evil catch beyond sitting in a tiny, cramped studio with his newly sworn enemy.

Hanamaki stares at the title of the script he’d so gracefully neglected the night before.

FORBIDDEN PARADISE

“Excuse me,” Hanamaki starts, raising a pen in the air while staring blankly at the packet in his free hand. “Just to clarify, you want me to record a boy's love CD with Matsukawa?”

my notes: a very good voice actor au. there is some misunderstanding on hanamaki’s part bc he didnt finish listening to matsukawa, and this is really cute and i love matsuhana. 

In A Quiet Night, All Sounds Carry by levyovochka

rating: E words: 4,794 chapters: 1/1

authors summary: “Ah, ah, Too—!”

Hanamaki hates his university dorm.

“—ru, let me cum, please!”

Hold up. That’s a fucking understatement. Let him rephrase it: Hanamaki loathes his university dorm with passion. Detest the damned abomination, abhors it—

“—ru! Coming, coming—”

It has only been a month and Hanamaki already wants to die.

my notes: as u can guess minor iwaoi // rlly well written and bottom hanamaki rights and maybe my favourite matsuhana smutfic??? and hooh boy i simp for matsukawa

call me maybe by totooru

rating: T words: 33,689 chapters: 14/14

author summary: Hanamaki texts the wrong number when trying to extort tips out of Oikawa in order to defeat Iwaizumi in arm wrestling, and then continues to text the witty stranger who had answered.

my notes: minor iwaoi, daisuga, bokuaka // god i think this is my favourite matsuhana fic overall, maybe in general, but my god is it great. this is probably a common rec, but its understandable as to why it is. basically au where makki texts matsun (who goes to karasuno) instead of oikawa for tips to beat iwaizumi at an arm wrestling match. but they keep messaging. and holy shit i love their conversations. please read this, it is 256/10

there we go!! i might go a part two with more ships (kagehina, tsukkiyama and iwaoi) but this took up way to much time lol. i have an essay due in a couple hours. but hope u like these fics as much as i do!!

[deathonyourtongue]

Winter Passing | Chapter 7

Summary: After car accident leaves him at the base of a mountain with no sign of civilization for miles, a breakup is the least of Henry’s problems. Just as death’s icy fingers begin to coil around him, salvation presents itself in the form of an old cabin in a clearing. Despite years of being told fairy tales and ghost stories that warn against such things, he uses his last of his strength to reach the cottage. When he wakes, he finds not a demon, but an angel, long removed from the insanity of the modern world. Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x OFC Word Count: 3K Warnings: A microscopic amount of smut. And an apparition that’s a little gory. A/N : Who wants to guess which actress plays Tabitha?  Like what I do? Buy me a coffee (or a commission)!

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Over the next few days, Olivia and Henry fell into a pattern. She’d wake before him, usually to a report of the night’s happenings from Dyster, who’d taken to patrolling ever since Tiago had come and gone. By the time Henry woke, Olivia was making breakfast, and the two would share quiet conversation about everything and nothing. She learned he was an actor who’d had something of a big break, and--up until the accident--had been looking for the perfect follow-up script to keep his momentum going. Henry learned what Olivia was willing to share about her practice and her past, but overall, she remained something of a mystery to him. While that was usually a turn-off for him, with Olivia, it only added to the entrancing nature of her and the place she called home. 

Once Henry’s injuries healed completely, he began pulling his weight around the property. He became the early bird, always up and outside when Olivia woke to Dyster’s pecking at her window. She’d never asked, but without fail she’d find him either chopping wood, or taking care of the animals. Though she often wondered what his motivations were for being so helpful, it didn’t take long for Olivia to realize that he simply enjoyed being busy and useful, a quality that made a bigger impression on her than his smile or charm ever could have.

“Good morning, love,” Henry panted as he came in, stomping the snow off his boots and wiping them as best he could before trying to toe out of them with a stack of wood in his arms. 

“Here, let me take these,” Olivia smiled, not missing how rosy his cheeks got whenever he exerted himself outside in the nipping cold. If she were truthful with herself, Olivia would admit to having more than just a passing fancy for the man who’d been on death’s door not two weeks prior; she was truly starting to fall for the handsome Brit, and each day they spent in each other’s company, her heart opened just a little further. 

Taking the wood from Henry, she moved to the living room, placing the cut logs on the top of the already-neat pile of dried wood. Olivia couldn’t stop her smile as she watched Henry make a beeline for the kitchen, ruffling the top of Gunnar’s head absently as he peeked at everything that was cooking on the stove. 

“You outdo yourself every day, darling. I can’t wait!” Henry said with genuine awe and excitement, his blue eyes brighter than ever. His expression sent a rush through Olivia, her heart fluttering and her own cheeks ruddying as she moved to check on breakfast, gently nudging him out of her way and earning herself a chuckle in the process. 

“Won’t have to wait much longer. Food’s ready,” she smiled, Olivia laughing sweetly as she watched Henry bolt into action, grabbing plates, cups, and cutlery. By the time she reached the table with the skillet, Henry had already poured their tea and had her plate in hand, ready to serve her first. 

It was the little things--like always serving her first--that became endearing; things Olivia knew she’d miss once spring came and Henry was able to go back to his normal life. He was a thoughtful man without any need for validation, and while she figured that part of it was that she’d saved his life, Olivia liked to think that it was mostly just the product of being raised by someone just as thoughtful and caring. 

“Thank you,” she murmured softly, Olivia’s eyes closing as she felt Henry’s large hand smooth over her hair, her expression one she rarely wore. So rarely in fact, that even Gunnar noticed, the husky cocking his head to one side in confusion. For the first time in a long time, Olivia seemed content.

“Of course. Thank you for cooking,” Henry replied without hesitation, his smile warm as he served himself. 

They ate in amicable silence, bites occasionally interrupted by a glance up at one another, glances that quickly shifted back to their plates, their smiles ear-to-ear. Though neither could deny their attraction, neither was ready to make the first move, so they danced around it, taking what they could in secret smiles, little touches, and--in another quickly-formed routine--solo time spent thinking of the other while they worked out their desires in the most primal of ways.

Alone time had become just as much a part of their routine as anything else, and like clockwork, when breakfast was over, Olivia headed outside to forage, while Henry moved to bathe. Though it was an unspoken agreement, it wasn’t without its perils, and more than once Olivia had walked back inside either to the sounds of his moans, or to him, still wet, moving from the bath to his room to dress. It was frustrating, to say the least, but made for quick work on her part when Henry moved outside to finish whatever chore he’d started before breakfast.  

When they’d both had their fill, life would return to normal. With no TV or electricity, they spent the daylight hours reading, writing, and occasionally playing a board game. It was a peaceful existence, one which, aside from the company of Henry, went largely unchanged for Olivia. It was a pleasant surprise to not have to veer so far from her routine as to turn her world upside down. Even her daily practice went unchanged, as Henry seemed to have a preternatural ability to tell when she was ready to use her altar or crack open her book, and without fail he would head to his room to nap or read in bed, always with a warm smile and a gentle touch as he made his way. 

Nighttime was when the cottage came alive. It always began with dinner, Henry taking over cooking duties while Olivia handled the drinks. With her hand-crank record player providing a quiet soundtrack, the two danced, drank, and ate without a care. The more they drank, the more affectionate they became with one another, and more often than not, the two would end up on the couch, snuggling together as the snow fell outside. The combination of Henry’s charms and the alcohol flowing through her veins, brought Olivia’s walls down further and further. Each night, her carefully guarded history came out, chapter by chapter, a bedtime story for Henry, who always lay listening intently, as she played with his curls. Though more open, Olivia’s tales were always about her personal history, never about her life as it related to her craft, and Henry knew it would take more than a few drunken evenings for him to earn that part of her story.

“What’s something you believed when you were younger that you know to be false now?” Henry asked, his eyes closed in pure bliss as Olivia’s fingers traced lightly over his face, releasing muscles he didn’t even realize had been tense as he lay with his head in her lap. 

“Love magic. Like any other little girl, I believed in all the syrupy-sweet hag tales of frogs turning into princes, true love’s kiss, finding ‘the one’. All a load of crap when you grow up and realize people are cruel to one another and that no one truly cares about your heart if it gets in their way. Even the ‘spells’ I cast back then were silly and sappy.”

“Like what?” Henry asked, his smile ear-to-ear as he opened his eyes to gaze up at Olivia. With his expression so tender and sweet, Olivia found herself saying the words on autopilot, one hand placed over Henry’s heart while the other continued to outline his features.

“By the loving heart of Hecate, by fire, air, earth, and sea, please draw my love to me. Someone to love with all my soul, once we’re together we’ll both be whole. I’ll give my love freely, I’ll love him completely, please Hecate, bring my love to me. As I do say, so mote it be!” Each phrase matched a line traced over Henry’s face, and it wasn’t until she’d closed the spell that Olivia realized what she’d done. Waiting for a tell that the spell had worked, she felt relief when she couldn’t feel a change on the wind. A blush colored her face as Henry looked up at her once more, a gentility in his expression that she couldn’t get enough of. 

“Silly or not, that’s a lovely sentiment, darling. There’s nothing wrong in asking for the love you deserve.” Sitting up, Henry made Olivia feel light as a feather as he picked her up and set her in his lap with ease. His hand was warm as he cupped her face, his eyes searching hers. “It may not have worked when you were a child, but now that you’re a grown woman, I’d chance it to say things might go differently.”

Without another word, Henry leaned in and pressed his lips to Olivia’s. It felt as though the earth stood still, Olivia’s heart feeling too big for her chest as she returned the kiss with the utmost passion. Allowing the dam that held her feelings to crumble, she slung her arms around Henry’s neck, getting lost in the softness of his lips and the tickle of his beard.

Henry felt as though he were floating, the experience of kissing Olivia different from any other woman he’d been with. Her lips were nectar-sweet, and the scent of all the herbs she worked with enveloped him in a warmth unlike any other. He felt his heart skip a beat as she settled in his embrace, silently showing that she was just as much at peace with him, as he was with her. The words of the spell echoed in his mind, and Henry couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, knowing at least one passage had come to pass; it seemed as though, in the few weeks they’d known each other and traipsed around their affections for one another, their first kiss truly had made them whole. 

“Yes, hello officer. I’d like to report a missing person. Yes, my boyfriend, Henry. He’s been missing for...almost three weeks now? When did I last see him? Oh, well, the day he moved out. You see, we had a little…Spat and he thought it meant we were over, but that was hardly the case. Yes, I’m very worried. Describe him? Well, he’s quite handsome, in the Prince Charming kind of way. Dark hair that curls something awful if he doesn’t keep it trimmed. Blue eyes. Tall, at least six feet. Muscular, but not a body builder by any means. He’s British. I last saw him pulling away in his Escalade--well, not his to be truthful. It was mine and I sold it to him for a dollar when his old car broke down...Oh, right, of course. He said he’d found an apartment on the north side of town. Why he’d want to make the commute to New York that much harder for himself, I’ll never understand. Oh? Yes, he’s an actor, if you can call it that. I called it a vain pursuit, but that’s just me. No, no family here, I’m afraid. I’m his family. Yes, of course! My number is…”

Tabitha Norwood’s voice was sickly-sweet, her smile beaming as she spoke to the detective she’d been transferred to. Standing in her kitchen, she pressed the phone to her ear with her shoulder, her perfectly-manicured red nails an accent to her delicate fingers, which busied themselves with tightly closing the lid of a small jar. When finished, she placed the jar by her open window, and washed her hands, her sphynx, Fluffy, jumping onto her shoulder just as the detective hung up. 

“Don’t worry, boy. We’ll find him. He can’t have gone very far.” She smiled, tucking one side of her copper bob behind her ear, her smile never once faltering.

“Oh fuck, Henry! Yes, right there! Don’t stop!” Olivia’s back arched high off the mattress as Henry’s hips slammed hard into hers, their bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. Her voice hoarse from the filthiest, most orgasmic foreplay she’d ever had, she was certain Henry would be her total undoing, tea leaves be damned. Every stroke of his length inside her was heavenly, and Olivia didn’t hesitate to plant Henry firmly at the top of her ‘Best I Ever Had’ list, mentally kicking Henry’s predecessor off the podium, unable to remember what her other lovers even looked like as her new love brought her to the mountaintop.

She came with his name on her lips, Henry following suit, his body trembling as visibly as hers was. They lay still connected for some time, indulging in afterglow kisses and feather-light touches, both Henry and Olivia thrilled by how the night had turned out. 

Were it not for Dyster’s sudden pecking at the window and Gunnar’s alarm-growl, everything would have been perfect. Henry and Olivia both jumped, but for very different reasons, Henry startled by the noise and Olivia on full alert, understanding her animals’ calls better than anyone. Pulling out of her as gently as he could, Henry scrambled to put his pants on while Olivia wrapped her robe around her body, moving to the window once she was covered. 

Though her first instinct was to open the window to speak with her raven, Dyster flew away just as her hand went for the sill and in doing so, allowed Olivia’s gaze to see what had caused all the ruckus.

Outside, by her altar, stood a woman in white. Despite a veil covering her face, Olivia recognized her immediately. A shiver ran through her and tears filled her eyes within seconds. Stuck in place, she watched as the woman held up a grotesque effigy of a child. Deformed in every possible way, the infant’s cries were terrifying and made it clear it was in pain. 

In her practice, Olivia asked for very little, preferring instead to give from her heart, and receive only that which the goddess and the lesser gods she worshipped deemed suitable for her to receive. This was a clear message that someone was displeased.

Olivia jumped when Henry’s hand wrapped around her shoulder, and without needing to think, she pushed him away and out of sight. “Stay there. Whatever you hear next, stay where you are.” 

There was no room for discourse as Olivia moved to action, yanking open her nightstand and pulling out a long test tube with a cork stopper. Stepping through her door, she opened the tube and let the contents spill into a neat line on the floor. Olivia hopped over it and did the same with the window sill both in her room and the attached bathroom. With one final line at the bathroom door, she changed out of her robe and into a dress, wiped her eyes, and headed downstairs.

Henry sat on the bed, eyes unblinking as he listened for every minute sound he could make out. At first, he heard only the child and the creaks of the house as Olivia moved around downstairs. Gunnar’s bark and Dyster’s cawing came next, both animals clearly agitated beyond reason. Finally, he heard Olivia’s voice, stronger and more firm than he’d ever heard it before. 

“GO BACK FROM WHENCE YOU CAME, EVIL SPIRIT! YOUR MASK FOOLS NO ONE! LEAVE THIS PLACE IN PEACE!” 

There was no stopping Henry from bolting to the window as an ear-piercing shriek cut through the clearing, and though he might have brushed things off as simply his overactive imagination before, there was no denying what he saw. As Olivia threw a bucket of salt in the direction of the woman, she began to dissolve, reminding Henry of cotton candy in water. Closing his eyes tightly, he pressed the heels of his palms over them, willing the image of the woman’s unhinged jaw and oozing mouth to leave his mind as quickly as it entered. 

After a few minutes, Olivia came back inside, and it took only a moment for Henry to realize she was sobbing. Quickly, he moved downstairs, his heart breaking for Olivia as he found her crumpled on the floor by the hearth. Hearing his footsteps, she looked up with a hitched inhale, quickly wiping her eyes in embarrassment. 

“Who was that, love?” Henry asked, stopping at the foot of the stairs, his face making it clear that his only concern was for her and her well-being. 

“That…” Olivia’s lower lip quivered and more tears slid down her cheeks as she fought to speak. “That was an apparition with my mother’s face.”

[nbapprentice]

You said a while back that while Supergiant games (Bastion, Transistor, Hades) was mostly okay, you had some words about them. I was curious as to what those words were, since Hades' full release is soon.

okay. alright. ive been playing hades lately so i definitely want to give my two cents (or dollars by the size this is gonna get). but let’s go Step by Step

the good: i want to throw a whole Endorsement over supergiant games with the art direction and its characters, which is what keeps me coming back again and again, and what i can assume is that most people are attracted to. 

gameplaywise, they have a Format they stick to which has become their staple, not to their detriment but to their advantage, like... gameplay tropes, so to speak, that they stick to (such as the addition of special conditions that give a disadvantage in exchange for more long-term rewards)

i fucking adore that they take one concept per game, go for it, and when they’re done they are Done; they don’t bother with sequels, they don’t want to run things to the ground and i fucking respect that. They have their themes, and they stick to them (to various degrees of success).

that said, like every piece of media, they are not perfect and this has to be analysed and spoken about

CONTENT WARNINGS: genocide and ethnic cleansing, antisemitism, misogyny, homophobia, suicide, and mentions of incest, and a general Spoilers warning

bastion: touches on ethnic cleansing, and not in a way i’d say is satisfactory. our narrator and one of our Sympathetic characters is one of the men who worked on a world-ending weapon meant to use against the Ura (a group of people coded as East Asian) which after a bit of googling is literally called “the final solution” if there was ever a war between the Ura and the Cael (who feel like rly tan white people to me). jesus fucking CHRIST.

we also meet more Ura other than our two named characters and we have to kill most of them. so that fucking blows.

the game tries for “being a genocidal monster will get you fucked up and blown up” which duh, but i feel we shouldn’t have had a person responsible for war crimes be one of our friends no matter how bad he feels about the whole thing, or the people victim of war crimes become villains in the latter half of the game. zia’s father could’ve taken ruck’s role ez pz.

transistor: the weakest of their games, imo; the lore and writing are fairly flimsy and i did not come out feeling Satisfied, especially because it had this rly good build-up that did not pay off. not to mention... their villains? 3/4 were gay people. lol. two married guys (not even explicit, you only realize by their shared last names) and the ps*cho lesbian trope (iirc she wanted to kill the protagonist’s lover or something). the female protagonist also ends up killing herself to live forever in a digital paradise with her dead lover. it’s. god. 

very Aesthetic, GORGEOUS music, interesting gameplay; had potential, i do not feel like it lived up to it at least as far as the story goes.

pyre: now this one. this one’s BEEFY. where transistor felt flimsy, pyre is rich; lots to sink your teeth into, rich in lore and loveable characters, again w the beautiful music, themes of cooperation and togetherness. my favorite of the cast is volfred sandalwood, the only Black (or, well, Black-coded) revolutionary i’ve ever seen portrayed with this amount of sympathy.

onto the bad: they literally have a Class of character named “Savage”; there’s the “mystical mentally ill person” trope; there is an overwhelming amount of explicit m/f pairs (one of them being. a romance that formed in a single day and then both of the characters were somehow willing to risk it all for each other? PLEASE) while the only hints of gayness are... hints. especially when Jodariel (another of my favs) is teased to have feelings for the player regardless of gender then only gets an ending with a male character with whom she has nothing in common 🙃

hades: and now. this one. music: gorgeous. character designs: spectacular (aphrodite is straight up naked but it’s so... natural and casual, it doesn’t feel sexualized at all). voice acting amazing. character interactions charming and endearing. as a greek mythology nerd, it was nice to see them go for the obscure shit like Zagreus at all, NOT portray Persephone and Hades as a loving couple, AND portrayed the gods as the bunch of petty assholes (some more benevolent than others) that they are. imo they’re too generous with their portrayal of achilles but i’ll allow it.

and finally... it seems all those criticisms about having all the gay characters hidden in the shadows paid off, cuz we got (aside of patroclus and achilles) a bisexual polyamorous protag. Holy Shit! and it’s not even playersexual, romance whomever you want shit without the routes recognizing each other: he explicitly talks about how he’s thinking abt them both (though it’s like “yeah usually mortals take one lover but gods love many huh” polyamory is a human thing too bro!!!!!)

and this is where it all goes, well, at least vaguely downhill lol. ok so the incest warning i gave up there? well. it’s not... outright incestuous. but it has some ugly implications. i want to emphasize: the characters never refer to each other as siblings, nor do they treat each other as such (thanatos, in fact, only recognizes hypnos as his brother, and megaera only sees the other furies as her sisters), but they were all raised by the same woman, Nyx... zagreus and thanatos even grew up together (im assuming megaera didnt meet zagreus until he was fully grown).

this is complicated even worse by the fact that they tried to trick zagreus into believing Nyx was his mother. he realized pretty early on this was not true but like... adoptive mothers, anyone? granted i can believe that bc of the attempt at deception that probably ruptured any attempt at actual familial closeness, and it’s not like hypnos and thanatos saw zagreus as their brother at any point, so they were p much aware of the truth too. with the fact that thanatos even looks like goth miles edgeworth (im not kidding you can google him up right now its literally edgeworth in a cowl) i rly feel they were aiming for Childhood Friend Anime Rival Man than the “surprise kiss bc ur not actually related <3″ shit. zagreus never once refers to nyx as his mother in-game, and also refers to thanatos and hypnos as her sons, never his brothers.

so yeah, like. if one’s feeling generous, zagreus and thanatos are more of a “my father is emotionally closed off and neglects me so my best friend’s mother basically raised me” kind of situation... just pulled off in, perhaps, the worst way possible (why didnt they just say Zagreus was told Hekate was his mom, that’s such an easy fix? or that he was born of nobody other than Hades??? [gestures at athena])

but then, the gods. aaaaaaaahhhhahahahh the gods. demeter shows up! and she calls zeus, hades and poseidon... her foster-brothers. which somehow would make the persephone thing less fucking awful, apparently. they really. really really did not need to do that. she could’ve just said “my fellow gods” or whatever. or my “god-brothers” or something, to pretend it was just a weird god alliance thing??? i dont know but implying that foster family isn’t family is just... bro, the dynamics still exist.

Don’t Like That.

i even contacted supergiant games over this. they reassured me they were even trying to avoid the incest of the original myths bc they didn’t want to mess with such a heavy theme. i believe them... but i really think they didn’t think this through. compared to something like fire emblem fates this is nearly benign, but the implications don’t look good :/

tl;dr of the tl;drs: i admire their artistic philosophy and the heavy emphasis on fresh gameplay, characters and their relationships; i appreciate that it seems that they listen to criticism?; i don’t appreciate that they didn’t think to at LEAST talk to adoptees when making a game about family.

[rhuneisaunx]

time(wrine)

it was a calm night when i typed few words,

and only the whispers of roaches can be heard;

the cold air silently entered

through the tiny passages of the windows.

i looked up unto the ticking clock  

sipping my hot-turned-cold espresso,

and stared at its moving hand

circling obnoxiously, 

the long, moving hand slowly pointed at one..

one.

one moment, you’ll eventually be startled,

one loud voice, and time will just be stopped,

for that one thing, that is to blurt out how i really feel about you

perhaps, you’ll even ask inside your head if it is true.

the hand continued to move down,

and it pointed at two…

two.

two different people but bounded together by similar interests,

two separate bodies yet inseparable souls,

two linakble minds, always understanding each other,

two dreamers, the same as to how their future would look afar,

but the thing is that,

do we even share the same feelings as well?

i could hear the displeasing slurp,

yet the other way around as i have those finest gulps,

just as the moving hand slowly made its stopover at three..

three.

two different things, each made up of three elements,

which of these should i give to you?

perhaps this so called “one night stand”,

or maybe the “grow old with you” instead?

how about just a long night

filled with petty talks and wasting energies

rather than countless nights

filled with warm hugs and out of the ordinary thoughts?

or maybe happiness-in-sparks

from happiness-in-fullness?  

i like you | i love you

three words, yet different towards one another,

which one will be the victor?

my dose of caffeine had just went half from the cup,

and eventually, the hand moved down to the fourth one…

four.

four hands

four eyes

entwined

and connected

the hands which hold warmness

and that makes such in wrapped in ecstasy

the eyes that hold endearment

makes the hearts filled in contentment

entwined

and connected

wait, is it just one of my 4am imaginations though?

the moving hand of the clock, ticking noisily,

reached fifth…

five.

five months of waiting,

the most-awaiting reply that’s almost wilting,

our distance is getting almost five centimeters

as you opened wide your mouth, the moment shatters…

when i woke from the loud sound from the quarters…

realized it is just a hecking dream in the evening.

i continued to write, looking the screen,

while the moving hand goes round and round, until it reach the sixth…

six.

six miles far away from you,

six days we can’t even meet,

but anyway, i still get to touch in you,

letters, chats, and calls made it possible as neat.

distance isn’t that a hindrance,

for as long as the connection between us wouldn’t lose in trance;

six miles that i want to turn it into six centimeters… 

maybe we’ll be like takaki and akari on the movie 5 centimeters per second ?

or we might even go beyond them and be like taki and mitsuha in kimi no na wa?

nevermind, it was just a sort of my fantasies though…

i pointed the running hand, and followed it

until such time it went into the seventh number.

seven.

“darling i will be lovin’ you ‘till we’re seventy.”

i think this is too much to ask of you,

since until now you didn’t even give attention to what i feel

and my decision to love you unconditionally,

but hey,

if you accept me within seven seconds, then i will do it accordingly.

i had this strange thought,

seven years, being cheesy childhood sweethearts;

seventy years, livin’ in that age,

full of freckles,

and wrinkles

it makes the folks old enough in sheer image,  

but the love entwined is still young and alive.

but we aren’t childhood friends, though.

not even like others who are fated to be sweethearts.

even so, i think this kind of fate is rare one, eh?

such swirls of fantasies and sweets.

another moment has it passed,

finally it appeared at the eighth hour,

eight.

eight seconds, you captured those starry, sparkling eyes

with just your mischievous smile;

eight minutes, you asked for a talk

into the café that smelled some kind of an old stalk;

eight hours, you slept with a light heart

as your request for a date has been granted in an instant;

eight days, you sent some tulips for eight straight days

how romantic are you, for you have made those days joyous;

eight weeks, your handwritten letters and poems of love,

flaunted in those spilled inks of how much it meant to you in your life

eight months, you continued to be mesmerized

the inevitable radiance that had caused;

eight years, oh, how lovely are thee!

for you’ve finally made yourself a man, on bended knee;

well, of course, to someone else…

and on that time, it was real…

it’s not already like those thoughts i’ve imagined…

i was a witness to almost…everything.

ah, finally, i think this will be the last…

accepting what has been done, i let out a deep sigh,

letting out all those shameless thoughts in the past,

and took a sip on my blended decaf to get me on high,

along with these countless, restless nights,

but wait, it’s gone.

might as well to take another cup for not to get my insides bore.

ah, just when i came back,

it already landed on ninth, heck.

nine.

nine missed calls from you on a one, fine night,

like what the heck do you want from whom you’ve once called “my light”?

now that my aching heart has already been enclosed itself

in a cocoon of tranquility,

not wanting those selfish fantasies

to get itself from wounding again countless times;

because it already accepted,

how my fate will become, instead.

“why is it that this thing called ‘love’ would be painful as hell?”

the clock’s hand had made its startling sound,

click. it had gone to tenth figure this time around.

ten. 

ten o’clock on that one, fine evening,

when you came to my room, saltwater is dripping,

you held my warm hand, seemed trembling,

and fell on your knees, so close to dying.

“what’s wrong? why are you crying?” you asked in a worried tone.

ten, fragile fingers had moved on its own,

to know if it’s the real you

no mistake, it’s the same warmth i’ve known,

the perfect one that was supposed to help me grow.

should i continue writing such things?

now that the eleventh number has made its siege…

eleven.

eleven letters just came out from your voice,

did my one-sided love had just gone to cease?

my senses couldn’t even grasp of what’s real and not,

because perhaps, this was just another dream i haven’t yet accepted somehow.

“silly, we’ve been together for eleven years now.”

once more, the hand landed on its final departure,

the twelfth, the beginning of an end, the welcome after closure.

twelve.

to think that the twelfth hour

would be a sort of rebirth,

to think that those imaginations and dreams i had for years,

had just ceased, and fate got overthrown.

twelve o’clock in the midnight

another time in sight,

just as i was writing, almost to the end,

our story had eventually just started.

tbw. 

[laketaj24]

Gladiator IV

A/N: It’s back! I hope you enjoy the update! Taglist open and please let me know what you think! 

Gladiator I, Gladiator II, Gladiator III Vikings MASTERLIST

Warnings: SMUT, SLAVERY. 

Ubbe wades through the water in the barracks alone, a privilege given only to the Champion of the Ludus. Ubbe sits upon the steps washing his body with sponge and then dipping it back into the water. There was little peace to be obtained in the days of late. He’d won over ten victories in the past three months, rising Dominus Aurav to fame and hearing his name chanted even in his sleep.

“Gladiator Ubbe.” Aurav enters the bathing chambers with his guardsmen not too far behind. “You fought well last week.” He smiles. “And now you are needed in a different form tomorrow. The Senator’s daughter has taken interest in you, beyond the arena. And it is to my understanding that my sister Y/N and you have been spending time together. Nothing will ever come of it. She cannot marry property.”

His words sting Ubbe’s ego for a moment, but it was not something foreign to him, he knew the law just as well if not better than Dominus Aurav. “Dominus.” He pauses sitting back in the water. “I am here to serve.”

“Precisely, clean yourself and become well rested. I order you to not mount my sister until after you have bedded this senator’s daughter for my sister fucks you for free and she has offered 100 denarii. Is this understood?”

“Yes.”

“Nice speaking with you, granted you had little to say. The guardsmen will have their eye on you two, as they do always, do not defy my orders and I might let her watch.” Aurav waves over to one of the younger gladiators. “You will do for tonight. Guards.” He leaves the barracks bathing pool just a quietly as he arrived taking a gladiator with him.

 ***

“Are they all topless?” Hvitserk grinned biting into the pomegranate. He nudges Bjorn taring down at the women. “I could get used to this.”

“I am sure it appeases you Hvitserk, it is likely the only way that you can see them.” Ivar eyes watch the marketplace for her figure. He had seen her a day before tagging along the works of a slender gentleman and now today she walked through the place unaccompanied. “I will take my leave.” Ivar smiles fixing his royal blue tunic.

“We are to meet here at high noon Ivar.” Bjorn wipes his face. “We are not here for leisure, and bare in mind this is the same place you referred to as the scourge of the earth.”

“I have yet to take back my statement, brother.” Ivar hops onto the steps. “But why not bask in the place of filth while we are required to be here.” And with that he takes his leave merging into the flow of traffic far beyond the eyes reach of his two older brothers.

Hvitserk’s hair drapes among his shoulders. “His name has only been stated in among the peasants, brother.” He spits the seeds to the ground tearing off another piece of the pomegranate. “For all we know they murmur the name of a legend.”

“The Ludus is ten miles south of the city, but half a day’s journey. You will present yourself to the Lanista and declare your desire to become a gladiator.” Bjorn perches against the wall rolling his eyes at his younger brother who chides the women below. “Hvitserk the Younger, will you listen. This gladiator task is endearing, but we must have eyes on him before we proceed to call upon father.”

“I hear you Bjorn. I unlike Ivar do not have the attention span of a child. I fully understand my role within this plan of yours.”

“Perfect, then I shall spare myself the wasted breath to explain it to you once more. When Ivar returns we will send you on your way and we shall see you at the games within a fortnight if you progress as you say you will.”

“I have slaughtered hundreds of men in battle, you doubt me Bjorn?”

“I doubt all of you.” He says sucking through his teeth, “Find Ivar, he’s had enough time.”

Atria was rarely allowed into the city without supervision but having been the slave of the house for so long Aurav nor yourself did not think ill of her intentions. She paced through the city collecting everything on the list. There were to be guest tonight and the Domina had plans to make sure they were well fed and fucked to insure patronage to the house.

The hot sun beamed upon her exposed shoulders, the nearly sheer dress done nothing to protect her tawny skin from the searing rays of the sun. She takes to the merchants beneath the awnings picking her needed things from the list. “Four pomegranate and ten plums.” She smiles at the merchant and watches him bag the items for her.

“You are the first beauty I have laid eyes upon in this dreadful place.” He leans against the table in front of her. His veined arms are revealed beneath the white toga. He bit into the plum wiping the excess juice from his face. “And I have traveled far and wide across this wasteland called Rome.” He grins, and she pays him no mind moving to the merchant with busy eyes. He growls in frustration sifting through the traffic of people. Rudely he shoves and moves ahead until he is by her. “What is your name?”

“Five pears please.” Atria says ignoring him.

He groans in frustration stopping in front of her. He accesses her from head to toe. The curly head woman before him was like unlike any other woman he had seen before. Her hair rung in tight coils that draped to her shoulders, with lips pink like a rose. Her beautiful sun brazened skin nearly glowed against the sage colored dress and then her eyes twinkled like starlight. He was not going to have her ignore him. “I would have your name.”

He steps in front of her halting her stride and smiling at her with wide blue eyes and a smile. “Have I been rude or disrespectful to you?” He asks.

“No sir you haven’t. I am simply buying food under the order of Dominus Aurav.”

“Dominus Aurav is not my concern.” He pauses. “I am Ivar.” Ivar announces himself with a mischievous grin and wide eyes. “Why are you barred?” He touches the metal brace around her slender neck and steps back. “Are you enslaved?”

“I am, Ivar. And being such, if Dominus Aurav is none of your concern than neither am I, May the Gods bless you and may you stay out of my way. Ivar.” She feels the heat radiate her face as the crimson color flushes her body. Never had she taken the eye of a man so handsome.

“Why the aloofness? I simply wish to make my time here in Rome better.”

“What brings you here?”

“That is a private matter.” He reaches into her bag and grabs one of her pears tossing it above his head and then back into the bag. “You shop for your master, yet you get nothing that will sustain or nourish the body, only entertain. Fruits, nuts and wines. Do Romans not eat meat?”

“I cannot and will not cart goat up to the villa, there are men there for that purpose. You ask many questions and you have not yet stated from where you come? Why should I bestow answers about my master to you, a stranger of Rome?”

“But not a stranger to beauty and the finer things of life. Everything is crueler here in Rome. The arena, the sports,” He pauses giving her a devious eye. “The women.” Ivar walks beside her. “How long will it take for your master to search for you while you are absent from him?”

“My absence?”

“Yes,” He removes the hair from her shoulder and his finger traces along her collar bone. Ivar wets his lips and shakes his head. “You are going to be busy for a few.” He takes her hand leading her from the busy streets of the city and to the catacombs of the city. He looks up at the busy movements of the people smiling. “I think you deserve a moment away from it all,” He whispers leaning in closer to her. “Just to breathe.”

Atria shifts her weight swaying listening to the people pass above her and Ivar’s deep breaths. He steps closer to her and she swallows hard. “I have to leave now, Ivar.”

“Ivar, son of King Ragnar, Prince of Athens.” He smiles. “I fair that this is not the last time that we shall see one another, no?”

“If the gods will us seeing one another again, Prince Ivar… then it will be.”

“The gods tend to shine their favor upon me. I am confident I will see you again.”

***

The Recruits line the center of the small arena, it was nothing new to you watching them get whipped into shape. They were feeble compared to the men your Ludus had produced, all but one. He stood at the end with his crooked smile jarring at the experienced gladiator in front of him. You watch intrigued, wondering what Ubbe would do if he had a chance at the exuberant character in the rink. You fan yourself reaching for a glass of water from a quiet Atria.

“How was the marketplace?”

“Pleasant Domina.” She said with a subtle smile.

You pay her no mind. There were other matters of pressing concern. The senators daughter, Aurelia a close friend of your brother had purchased a session with Ubbe. This was customary. Women far and wide would travel to the villa just to be bed by them, but this was treachery, for Aurav knew the closeness of Ubbe to you. You hadn’t spoke to him really but in passing, thinking of ways to strip power from him seemed pointless except but by marriage, and you would rather be chained to your brother than remain miserable in the rest of your days.

The quick recruit springs out jabbing his wooden sword knocking the trained gladiator down before him and giggling as he won. The others watched intrigued, it was told he volunteered, it didn’t surprise you. This one looked accustomed to the madness. “Atria, where are they preparing Ubbe?” You whisper pulling her near you.

“Aurelia and Aurav are approaching Domina, I dare say you are too late.” She takes the goblet of water from you and nod over to your brother and the young blond. She approaches you smiling. “Speak Domina.”

“Aurelia, a site for sore eyes.” You grin kissing each of her cheeks before taking her hand from Aurav. You walk to the edge of the balcony. “See our fine recruits today.” You nearly sit staring over. “The youngest one at the end is quite a site.” And he was, the long hair clearly showing he was not from your barracks and his grin. He had a maniacal grin. His eyes stare up at the balcony and Aurelia turns to you. “Ubbe awaits you.”

“Is he as energized as he?”

“I do not know, I do not mingle with slaves.” You smile. “That one is not a slave, but a free man. He came here willingly.”

Aurav cut his eye over to you nodding his head indiscreetly. “Ubbe awaits you.”

“I want him.” She smiles. “He is a savage, and I personally am ready to be ravaged I will wait in the chambers Aurav. Do not keep me waiting. You know how I am about waiting.” She kisses your hand parting from you with her servant.

Aurav seethes beside you. “He has not been washed like Ubbe. I had plans.”

“Aurav, remember who put you in charge of this villa, whose money you sit on. Whose house you dwell in,” You pull him buy his shirt. “No one will fuck him but me. Is this understood? I would hate for you come up missing and I have to find another Dominus.”

“Keep your fucking filthy slave, sister.” He whispers. “One day soon he will be a distant and faint memory as the prior gladiators in his status, the new recruit already looks promising.”

“Good clean him, I hear he is already swelling your pockets.” Once he leaves you turn to Atria with a wide grin. “Fetch me a cloak and see that Ubbe is sent to the chambers upstairs please?”

***

Aurav had Ubbe sent back to the Barracks which meant you had to cloak yourselves. You await him at the bottom of the steps away from all the gladiators in their quarters patiently. And finally, he appears around the corner with a furrowed brow and yet a smile. “Domina.” He smirks. “What are you doing here at such hour? You will surely be seen.” He whispers peaking through the flow of linens hanging from the wash area.

“I nearly lost myself today. The thought of you with another woman,” You pause trying not to tell all of your faults to him. “You look well cleaned. How many servants did Aurav send to clean you?”

“Jealous, are we?” Ubbe peers up the stairwell. “We have but a moment, I am expected back a training. I must prepare the new recruits for the test.” Ubbe backs you into the corner lifting your dress. “Won’t it be brave of you to return to your friends freshly fucked by the man she desired? Smiling at them while picturing me between your legs.” He whispers as he places you on the stone counter. You remove his subligaria (roman underwear) without hesitation. “You mustn’t make sound, I could end up with lashes on my back.” He says lifting your legs to pull you closer to him. “Can you handle that?”  

You whimpered biting your tongue as his calloused fingertips kneaded your thigh. Of course not. He made you lose control of yourself but that wasn’t important now. Ubbe shakes his head already predicting the outcome. He enters you sharply, pressing his cock deep in you and muffling your cries into his chest. Every thrust is intentionally meant to rile you there quickly. He slams his hips against yours and then winds it giving friction to your clit only to slam back into you over and over. Your legs wrap around his waist pulling him deeper and a moan escapes. He covers your mouth pumping into you faster and faster then snaking his hand between the two of you to rub circles on your clit. “Cum for me. I can hear them approaching.” He warns. He circles faster and faster combined with the thrusts of his hips and you come shaking into him allowing him to finish himself.

He was right down the steps marched the recruit and the guardsmen throwing him into the common room. You pull Ubbe closer to you and he peppers kisses down your neck listening for the guards to leave and stands. “Good woman you, you can be quiet.” He kisses you once more. “Take your leave. The senator’s daughter will be in search of you.”

“Have you seen the recruit, he is fearless. More so than you I fear.”

“I fear nothing, not even death Domina.” He assists you to the floor and fixes your dress for you. “Sleep well, and may your dreams be of me.” Ubbe watches you up the steps and turns back to the barracks fixing his subligaria.

“We come to save you, and here you are fucking your owner.” Hvitserk smiles with wide eyes at his brother.

“Hvitserk the Younger.” He beams. “What are you doing here? Where are the others?”

“Come, I have plenty to tell you brother. But first,” He pauses. “Are all their women here as unexpectedly wild in bed as Aurelias? I might have to stay here a while.”

@ivarsshieldmadien@equalstrashflavoredtrash@whenimaunicorn@akamaiden@siren-queen03 @titty-teetee@sparklemichele@greennightspider@tomarisela@scumyeol@raindrop-dewdrop@naaladareia@vikingsmania@readsalot73@oddsnendsfanfics@amour-quinn@wheredidallthedreamersgo@unsure-but-trying@leaderradiante@microsmacrosandneedles@valynsia@captstefanbrandt  @therealcalicali @lol-haha-joke @b-j-d @cinnabearice@cris101071 @ivarswickedqueen @cheychey10142@ilvebeenabad @starrmoondaisy @kissedbydragonfire@ceridwenofwales @imgoldielikehawn  @ilooklikeididyesterday@grungyblonde @tephi101 @leaderradiante @selenedarkbloom@bang-kim-bap @rekdreams247

[mattelektras]

GIRL HEY I LOVE YOU and your blog and just all your marvel thoughts and opinions and your recs tag WOW you got me into comics like THANK YOU AND YOUR SOUL and so i am so curious to know like what are your issues with mcu? like everything i want to know EVERYTHING, every little detail that's bothered you to the shitty casting to the whitewashing to the lack of development LET ME HEAR IT PLEASE

OH HOW LONG DO YOU HAVE. pretty much all of this excludes black panther and ragnarok. nothing but respect for my mcu

it took them literally 10 years and like 20 movies to have anyone that wasn't a white man lead a solo film. like. that is a LONG ASS TIME

not to mention the straight people EVERYWHERE until valkyrie who they didn't SHOW is bi. trust only tessa thompson and taika watiti. let that be the lesson here

and the women and people of colour they DID have in their movies were done incredibly dirty like rhodey (who could absolutely have held a solo movie following iron man 2. or even 1 like. they just slipped in that he’s become a superhero n didn't do anything with it like... really????????) gets shot in the fuckin spine by that piece of shit robot. sharon was set up so well and now doesn't exist. mcu nat i dont even know where to begin

mcu maximoffs/dr strange/iron fist. the whitewashing trifecta. they went for the hatrick and they nailed it. thanks i hate it 

but with the maximoffs specifically like. GOD theyre bad. wendy has gone from ‘moves things with her mind’ (not wanda’s actual powers but whatevs we’ll get to that bit) to literally being able to destroy an infinity stone. she’s everything mr whedon wants in a female character. and mcu pietro??? a weak bitch. pietro maximoff would die of spite before he sacrificed himself for clint fucking barton

so many of the movies dont line up with one another like PLEASE marvel directors watch each other’s movies. the russos basically turned up at taika watiti’s house and told him to go fuck himself 

or just... hire good directors.... the russos fooled everyone into thinking they were good with cap 2 but what the ever loving fuck was civil war and infinity war

stop with the war shit no one likes superheroes vs superheroes

this is petty and i KNOW movies dont have to follow the comics like. i know that and sometimes its a very good thing, but with marvel they wanna take parts from the comics, sometimes GOOD parts and they wanna fuck it all up and force it to fit into their shitty narrative. like. civil war for example.. had a PURPOSE in comics. it was a genuine grey area and, well written, it could've been a nuanced scenario about how different types of people might have benefited or suffered from it (re: mutants etc). in the mcu, civil war was uuuuuh wendy blew up some people and she used to be a nazi but we’re all gonna defend her because im steve rogers and i do what the fuck i like regardless of literally everything else. 

they based the mcu on the ultimates universe???? TAKE THE GOOD BITS THEN!!!! like take miles morales instead of just giving peter his life and his friends 

get better actors jesus christ. just. better as people would be a start. ms substitute asian johansson and mr Gun Rights pratt. perish

the chris x3 jokes really arent endearing either. some of em have gotta go

please hire someone with real eyes for your costume department!!!!!! say what you like about dc movies, but they all WORK together. their suits have the same tone/materials/overall look. the avengers look like a bunch of people who have never met before 

speaking of, i physically cannot buy the ‘friendship’ the avengers supposedly have. they dont talk!!!!!! there’s too many of them to actually get any solid team development!!! you want me to believe thor even knows hawkeye’s real name??? he doesn't!! and he doesn't give a shit either!!

if you're gonna do a romantic relationship......... fucking stick with it or actually end it. steve/sharon could have been SO GOOD but where has that gone. nat/hulk was hideous and thank god it died but WHERE has it gone. 

not to mention the fact that gamora has literally shown no interest towards peter but she loves him in infinity war somehow

peggy carter is really NOT THAT IMPORTANT!!!! people are still out here shittalking sharon, the LEADING CAP COMICS WOMAN, STEVE’S MAIN AND PRETTY MUCH SOLE LOVE INTEREST, because she's not peggy carter and she doesn't talk about girl power whilst wearing winged eyeliner. steve and peggy kissed once like if thats your standard for a life long relationship then im married to like 8 people i knew when i was 15

the general need marvel has to own all of their properties. homecoming was a good movie, but did we need it??? like really???? people have seen so many spider man movies but no one had seen a black panther or captain marvel movie and they both got shoved back to accommodate the 3rd peter parker ive seen in my lifetime

SPEAKING OF REPETITION.... snarky movies led by white men alongside a woman who is clearly more capable than they are but dont get any recognition for it are the same. the exact fucking same 

CAN POST CREDITS SCENES PLEASE DIE im not sitting around for 20 minutes waiting for something cool like a hint of a new hero only to see steve fucking rogers doing his ironing or some shit. if its not worth it, dont do it maybe 

the colour grading is ugly as sin. if it’s got some over saturated primary colours in it... its a marvel movie 

marvel movies are just.... straight up not funny at this point lmao like im not a 13 year old boy i dont find dick and whore jokes funny try again

‘it’ll kill you’ ‘only if i die’ ‘yes thats what killing you means’ is supposed to be funny and i get that but uuuuuh its just bad dialogue and there are so many lines like that. write a good fucking movie and then MAYBE you won't have to fill scenes with empty conversations to take up the time

fuck the mcu guardians of the galaxy, to put it finely. mcu peter is a dick and his altered back story makes him even more of a dick. drax isn't a dumbass, gamora would rather die than touch peter. mantis is a literal celestial goddess, not some old white dude’s sleep time therapist 

mostly what it comes down to with me though is that marvel literally does not have to make good movies. they can make any old shit and make literally millions of dollars. barely anyone gave a fuck about ant man or doctor strange, and if you didn't read comics, you likely wouldn't have even KNOWN who they were but everyone went to see them because they had marvel on the posters. and thats pretty much marvel’s entire deal. ALL they do is get credit for things they havent done 

oh and fuck vision too 

[tiosandcervo1976-blog]

Firstly, Islam compared to the other Abrahamic religions didn have a sort of reformation and secular period from its inception in the late 7th century AD until now. Off the top of my head, Judaism had Hellenic influence from Alexander time until the Roman era, while Christianity had a wave of freethinking and secular ideas during the late 19th century. Although in both religions there are the traditionalists and the secularists, secularism is more emphasised among the believers of Judaism/Christianity than Islam. "MacLaine returned the compliment, calling Posey talented and spontaneous. "She's had this wonderful experience of being the queen of independent films. After a five year absence, in 1988, she returned to acting in the feature "Madame Sousatzka "MacLaine played herself in the autobiographical ABC TV miniseries, "Out on a Limb, " in 1987In 1996, she reprised her Oscar winning role of Aurora Greenway from "Terms Of Endearment " in "Evening Star "In 2000, MacLaine made her feature directorial debut, "Bruno "MacLaine acted in the 2001 TV movie, "These Old Broads " for ABC","alternativeHeadline":null}. Several of these guns, and especially that at Giffords and the one on Beacon Hill above Matawan, were remarkably well handled. The former, at a distance of five miles, and with an elevation of six thousand feet, sent a shell to burst so close to the Vaterland that a pane of the Prince's forward window was smashed by a fragment. This sudden explosion made Bert tuck in his head with the celerity of a startled tortoise. They were significant definitive statements. Rosengren said at the time of the negotiations, there was no evidence RFG had delivered the promised range of products to locations as remote as Townsville. Was essentially uncharted territory, she said.follows that RFG did not have reasonable grounds to make the oral representations. Yet, only 26 examples were built, while Ford turned out nearly 681,000 Mustangs during its long first model year alone. Some would say the Italia came along too soon, before there was a ponycar market. Others believe it came too late, for Hudson was in big trouble by the time the Italia was first displayed, and there were serious questions 안동출장샵 about the company's prospects for survival.. Gradually, he has become more open to the idea that not everything can be logical, or has been understood in logical terms. This happens to all people in my life. I not even very spiritual. If you crossed over the crest and headed farther out to sea you would enter the buttress zone, which falls on the outer part of the fore reef. If you were looking to see some sharks or barracudas during your dive, this would be the zone to spot them. The coral reef here is characterized by spurs, or buttresses, of coral that jut out from the wall. Sorry to hear about kitties. Unfortunately this might mean its time for indoor only life for your cats since outside is proving to be unsafe. I know it seems unfair, but it seems like the only option that can ensure their safety. I have a needlessly complicated idea, which would require tons of additional code. In my PvP mode, both players play on the same side (mechs). Every action is allocated a score. If you think too 안동출장샵 hard that your pregnant youll start to show signs of pregnancy. Ive done it so many times. Its too early to tell right now but since your in the week of your period this is the week that you will really know. I feel like I would understand more if he had continued his faith and reconciled both ideas to fit both his religious upbringing and academic studies. It might just be a disconnect in how I think of religion as an atheist. I can understand being religious and keeping your faith, but I can really understand becoming religious, especially using science as a backing.SnowyBug 12 points submitted 2 days agoBeing pissed and being disappointed are two different emotions, and according to OP, the employee was furious and argumentative.Read again.

[serveandfolly]

Be still my beating heart: My longtime partner, Brian Libby, wrote this OR Arts Watch article twinning the stories of two of my favorite artists, actor River Phoenix and musician Elliott Smith, and relating them through their time in our hometown of Portland, Oregon. The original story (link above) shows photos of some of Elliott’s Portland homes and the road with “the fucked-up face” from My Own Private Idaho, but I’ve pasted all the copy below. Hope some of my fellow River and Elliott fans enjoy this as much as I did.

River and Elliott: Remembering two troubled princes of 1990s Portland

River Phoenix and Elliott Smith brushed Portland and maybe Portland brushed them

NOVEMBER 27, 2018 // CULTURE, FILM, MUSIC // BRIAN LIBBY

There’s a name you keep repeating You’ve got nothing better to do

— Elliott Smith, “Alphabet Town”

From James Dean to Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain to Heath Ledger, we have immortalized a constellation of famous artists—especially musicians and actors—who died young and, then, through a combination of their talent and the public’s grief, lived on. Robbed of the futures we imagined for them, yet frozen in time and thus never to suffer the indignities of aging or late-career artistic mediocrity, their luminosity—and our love for them—intensifies as if in proportion to the tragedy.

Portland and Oregon haven’t traditionally produced a lot of bold-type names that have endured in the international pop zeitgeist. Far from America’s entertainment capitols, this is arguably a place where talents are nurtured, not where one becomes a full-fledged star. The most high-profile artists, such as the great abstract expressionist painter Mark Rothko or Simpsons creator Matt Groening, have tended to move on and live their career-defining creative moments elsewhere. Yet even if their time here is fleeting, sometimes these artists don’t just remain culturally relevant long after their deaths but also come to represent something essential about a particular time in the city.

Last month brought reminders of two such one-time Oregonians and what they left behind. October 21 was the 15th anniversary of musician Elliott Smith’s death, at the age of 34 in 2003, while Halloween brought the 25th anniversary of actor River Phoenix’s death, at the age of 23 in 1993. They died a decade apart, but each moment of mortality came in Los Angeles, and the two sites are less than nine miles away from each other: Phoenix outside West Hollywood’s Viper Room club after an accidental overdose, and Smith by stabbing at his home in Silver Lake (a presumed suicide but never officially determined).

The coincidences don’t end there. River Phoenix and Elliott Smith were born within a year of each other: Smith in Nebraska (he was raised until age 14 in Texas) and Phoenix in Madras, Oregon (raised mostly in Florida). Each arguably made his most famous work in collaboration with director Gus Van Sant. Phoenix co-starred (along with Keanu Reeves) in Van Sant’s 1991 film My Own Private Idaho and Smith was nominated for an Academy Award for the song “Miss Misery,” on the soundtrack to Van Sant’s 1998 film Good Will Hunting. Each struggled with drug abuse, which in different ways led to each artist’s untimely death. River Phoenix and Elliott Smith presumably never met, yet each is a kind of fleeting prince of ’90s Portland, and their work acts as time capsule and talisman for the days many locals now look to longingly: a grittier, more affordable and off-the-radar city that predated Portlandia, a succession of swooning New York Times stories, and an ensuing wave of tourism and gentrification.

Like Rothko, neither stayed here for good. But also like Rothko and many of the city’s other most famous sons and daughters, Phoenix and Smith were transplants to the city who saw Portland with fresh eyes. Like rain clouds that give way to bright sunlight almost daily for much of the year, each artist’s Portland-based work is personal and often deeply melancholic, yet also joyful, lyrical and instinctual. It’s not always pretty, yet we are drawn to their work again and again.

By the time Phoenix signed on to star in My Own Private Idaho, he had long since become a star, thanks to such minor Hollywood classics as 1986’s Oregon-filmed Stand by Me and 1988’s Running on Empty, the latter of which brought him an Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actor. But Idaho, the third in Van Sant’s trilogy of Portland-set films (preceded by 1986’s Mala Noche and 1989’s Drugstore Cowboy), would become the role of Phoenix’s career and the standout classic in its director’s now decades-long portfolio.

While Drugstore was initially a greater critical success for Van Sant, winning Best Film and Best Director from the National Society of Film Critics in 1989, Idaho is somehow the film that endures in public imagination and as a lasting artistic achievement. Besides being a landmark of gay cinema, casting two young Hollywood heartthrobs as lovers, it also turned out to be Van Sant’s most cinematically ambitious effort.

The premise of My Own Private Idaho is audacious if not a little crazy. The film is a loose interpretation of Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part I and Part II—the story of a delinquent, debauchery-loving prince planning to shed his skin and embrace his more virtuous monarchical destiny—transposed to the realm of contemporary Portland street hustlers. As legend has it, Phoenix and Reeves spent nights on the streets of Old Town researching their roles by hanging out with the city’s young street denizens, some of whom would enjoy supporting roles in the film.

Phoenix plays a hustler named Mike with a handicap—narcolepsy drops him off to sleep in any moment of stress. We first watch him collapse in sleep by the side of a rural highway, his possessions and even his shoes stripped from him as he slumbers; then he collapses in the middle of turning a trick, carried out of a rich woman’s house by his fellow hustlers and left slumped against a tree. Reeves’s young Prince Hal figure, Scott (in this case a Portland mayor’s son), is along for the ride as part brotherly companion, part lover. Yet this quirky Shakespearean tale is also bookended by and interwoven with a larger quest, played out under the limitless skies and golden hues of the eastern Oregon landscape, as Phoenix’s Mike searches fruitlessly for his long-lost mother: to the Idaho of his youth, to Italy, and finally back to Portland.

Part of what makes My Own Private Idaho so great is how Van Sant conjures indelible cinematic moments: time-lapse footage of clouds rolling over the Oregon landscape; symbolic slow-motion shots of salmon (Mike’s spirit-animal; Phoenix even wears a salmon-colored jacket) fighting their way upstream; and even an entire house falling from the sky onto the highway. It’s dazzling cinema that makes both rural and urban Oregon its muse like perhaps no other movie. That Van Sant has gone on to make several Hollywood movies that overdose on schmaltz and are short on cinematic eye candy, and few if any great works of art (the Cannes winner Elephant and the Matt Damon/Casey Affleck vehicle Gerry perhaps being exceptions) only makes Idaho all the more special in his oeuvre. In fact, it’s as if Van Sant refuses to enter Idaho-like territory. Consider, for example, that his last film, Don’t Worry, He Won’t Get Far On Foot—a profile of cartoonist John Callahan starring River Phoenix’s brother, Joaquin, which is set in Portland and another story of a lonely man’s longing for his mother—was shot in Los Angeles. Suffice to say, there are no houses falling onto the highway.

At least unofficially, My Own Private Idaho owes as much to Phoenix as Van Sant—and not just as it relates to the acting. After all, River Phoenix didn’t just act in Idaho; he reportedly was able to alter the script and his character. The draft that Van Sant brought to the actors didn’t include romance between their two lead characters, but by the time production was complete, Idaho’s most touching moment was a campfire embrace wherein Mike declares his love for Reeves’s Scott. Phoenix is at his zenith here as an actor, a marvel of delicacy, communicating a blend of easy cool and endearing vulnerability.

Both Phoenix and Reeves came to the Idaho cast with something to prove: that they could be serious dramatic actors. To a large extent it worked for both. While Reeves has never been considered a master thespian, his roles in blockbuster franchises like The Matrix and even the more recent John Wick movies have cemented his place in movie history. And for Phoenix, post-Idaho there was no longer any doubt that the child actor we’d seen in Explorers and the angst-ridden teen of The Mosquito Coast (not to mention a memorable “Family Ties” guest-starring turn) had graduated to leading roles with the charisma, looks and vulnerability of a budding superstar. Would it be going too far to say he was the James Dean of his time? Maybe. But the comparison is not ludicrous.

Of course longevity was not to be for Phoenix. Within 25 months of Idaho’s release, his story ended, just like Mike’s, collapsed on the pavement—in this case on a Hollywood sidewalk rather than Highway 216, and sadly, not simply asleep for a few minutes. The brother with him that night, Joachin Phoenix, would go on to enjoy the long acting career River never got.

The year of Idaho’s release was also a turning point for Elliott Smith. In 1991 he had just returned to Portland after four years at Hampshire College in Massachusetts, and promptly formed the band Heatmiser with three musician friends. Over the ensuing years, Heatmiser would become a fixture at celebrated indie-rock clubs like the X-Ray Café and La Luna, while also recording albums like 1993’s Dead Air and 1994’s Cop and Speeder that infused punk energy with melodicism. The band was part of a broader indie rock scene that included Pond, Crackerbash, The Spinanes, The Dandy Warhols and Quasi.

After Nirvana’s breakout success, both indie and major labels began combing Portland clubs looking for the next grunge sensation. And what was grunge but punk with a little more melody and a flannel shirt? Heatmiser received enough attention that a major label, Virgin Records, eventually came calling. But by that time Smith was ready to venture out on his own, breaking up Heatmiser just as they’d made the big time. As the singer-songwriter explained in a later interview, he had grown tired of screaming all the time as a member of a loud rock band. And besides, by that time Smith was gaining notice for a series of stripped-down solo albums with little more than voice and an acoustic guitar. To the astonishment of many, they sounded less like punk or grunge and more like Simon & Garfunkel or Nick Drake. Smith’s solo debut, 1994’s Roman Candle, was released at the height of the grunge era but also just nine months before Kurt Cobain’s suicide, essentially prefiguring (and perhaps even giving birth to) the emo-core wave that would in time follow grunge.

In the four years between Roman Candle’s release and Smith’s leap to international fame with the Oscar nomination for “Miss Misery,” local audiences who had feasted on loud guitars and pounding punk rhythms filled Portland clubs for his solo acoustic shows, trading chaotic mosh pits for stillness and pin-drop quiet. Not only was there the wistful simplicity of Smith’s voice and acoustic guitar. It was also how the singer-songwriter bared his soul in his lyrics. Though some songs were inspired by others’ lives, it was clear that for the sensitive, often-depressed Smith, music was a confessional and a lifeline. Yet in his almost Lennon-McCartney like gift for melody, even his sad songs feel uplifting.

In those early Elliott Smith albums recorded here, through his 1997 masterwork Either/Or (his last for indie label Kill Rock Stars before signing with the mammoth Dreamworks and leaving Portland for New York), the singer-songwriter also painted a cinematic if melancholy picture of the city. You can almost feel the gray wintertime skies in songs like “Alameda,” as he sings:

You walk down Alameda Looking at the cracks in the sidewalk Thinking about your friends How you maintain all them in A constant state of suspense

For your own protection Over their affection Nobody broke your heart You broke your own because you can’t Finish what you start

When the Oscar nomination for “Miss Misery” came, Smith’s life changed overnight. If that new audience and international media attention meant exponentially greater album sales and the end of his penny-pinching way of life—staying in nice hotels on tour instead of sleeping in the van or on some stranger’s floor, not to mention no longer moonlighting as a drywall contractor by day—it also isolated Elliott from his community of not-so-affluent friends and musicians still sleeping on those floors. This time in his life was also accompanied by increasing drug abuse and greater depressions. Perhaps Smith new that despite overwhelmingly positive reviews for albums like XO and Figure 8 as well as a worldwide audience of admirers (he was particularly smitten when a musical hero, Elvis Costello, attended a London show), DreamWorks saw its Smith signing as essentially an investment that didn’t quite pay off because he wasn’t the megastar they envisioned.

Like Cobain, Smith also retained that nagging Gen X rocker’s worry that he’d sold out. Maybe today a young fan who falls in love with Figure 8 doesn’t care that it was recorded for DreamWorks instead of Kill Rock Stars. After all, going to a major label gave Smith a bigger palette of instruments and fellow musicians to work and record with. Yet for Smith, the decision wasn’t without impact. In “King’s Crossing,” one of Smith’s best posthumously-released songs, he sings, “The method acting that pays my bills/keeps the fat man feeding in Beverly Hills.”

Particularly in the couple of years before his 2003 death, Smith was a shell of his former self, consuming cocktails of heroin, crack and prescription drugs. At times onstage, he even had to abort songs halfway through because he couldn’t remember his own lyrics. Yet Smith was also in those final months showing signs of recovery and renewal, which enabled the superlative album he was working on when he died. Songs on the magnificent From a Basement on the Hill (including “King’s Crossing”) exhibit a layered richness of sound that goes beyond what he recorded in Portland a few years earlier. Yet it all screeched to a halt in Silver Lake—whether inevitably, as some observers maintained, or out of the blue.

Today I can’t look at certain places in Portland and Oregon without thinking of them.

For River Phoenix and My Own Private Idaho, there is the Elk statue downtown on Southwest Main Street between Chapman and Lownsdale squares, where early in the film Scott cradles a sleeping Mike in his arms. There is also the stretch of Broadway downtown near the Benson Hotel where the duo cruise the street on Scott’s motorcycle, handsomely and heroically, like cinema’s sunglasses-masked successors to The Wild One and Easy Rider. And perhaps most of all, there is a lonely stretch of Highway 216, east of the Cascades and not far from the tiny town of Tygh Valley, where River Phoenix begins and ends the movie, succumbing to narcoleptic seizure. Last year my partner and I found the coordinates online and made a pilgrimage. To get there you drive white-knuckled through a series of hairpin turns through a small Deschutes River gorge, and then suddenly you come onto a plateau where the road seems to unfold forever.

If one seeks vestiges of Elliott Smith’s Portland, it’s not just the venues where he took the stage (one of which, La Luna, is now a café of the same name), but also, if you know where to look, one of the many Southeast Portland houses where he lived and recorded. Roman Candle, for instance, was recorded in a home on Southeast Taylor Street that recently was listed for rent. (And yes, I admittedly took a tour.) Smith also lived in another Southeast Portland house, off Division Street, that prompted him to sometimes spend late nights hanging out on a bench in the rose gardens of Ladd’s Addition; the documentary Heaven Adores You includes a long shot looking down over the neighborhood. In “St. Ides Heaven,” he writes

Everything is exactly right When I walk around here drunk every night With an open container from 7-11

Division Street itself also wound up inspiring a lyric in “Punch and Judy” (on Either/Or), albeit not exactly an ideal marketing tagline:

Driving around up and down Division Street I used to like it here It just bums me out to remember

Every time I listen to “Punch and Judy,” that line makes me wonder what Smith would have made of gentrified Division Street now, with its canyon of condos and string of popular restaurants. It’s a phenomenon that has swept most close-in east side neighborhoods—precisely the formerly cheap old houses he and his friends used to inhabit.

Even so, to absorb the work of Smith (especially his early records) and Phoenix (particularly My Own Private Idaho) is to make a nostalgic return to ‘90s Portland. And yet, through the power of these works and these two princes’ immense talent, their work also transcends that time capsule. Even if their tragically early deaths don’t guarantee them true artistic immortality, the more Portland changes, the more their works resonate.

[bentchcreates]

Beyond Light and Darkness, A Kathbute Anthology (Part 2)

Let me begin 2018 with an awesome review of our awesome book! I’m very proud of this – I was part of the new writer judging, the editing, and I wrote the preface! – and if you want to know this book’s journey from conception to publishing I wrote a lengthy blog on that last year.

In this second part of the #BLaD blog posts, I’ll be reviewing it as a reader and I’ll try to review it as objectively as I can. ;) Here’s what I think of the 11 stories by the Kathbute Authors, because while a general review of the book is appreciated, it always feels great for anthology authors to read about their works individually.

I. Love Bits

1. The Watch Repairman’s Son – H. Bentham Prompts: A broken wristwatch, peppermints, and a hug that goes too far.

LOL at reviewing this objectively! XD This is my work and for me it’s the best! Hahaha!

Anyway, a trivia about this story: This is actually my first Sancho de Guerra story. I finished writing this almost a full year before “Guide for A Day” appeared in Summer Feels but this took a while to see the light of day. The town I envisioned here is a wee bit different from the one I imagined for the later story, but you wouldn’t really notice. All the bits that got published can go together, and as of this writing, I declare it as canon. ;)

2. Can I Stay? – Nigel Libranages Prompts: Tarot Cards, the coming winter, a pair of old leather boots

This is more of a romantic fiction than romance but the feels, especially the melancholy, is on point. The tone seems levelheaded, but there’s something subtle in how it’s presented that tugs at the heartstrings just right. I must commend both the clever interpretation of the given prompts and the vivid visualization of the settings. Sandra’s characterization is also well fleshed out, justifying her decisions through the end of this short story.

II. Spell Crafts

3. Potion Lunacy – Irina Jean Prompts: The first day of school, a love note, a recipe with a significant mistake

The YA Fantasy theme in this one is cute and reminds me so much of quirky 2000’s anime. Feisty Portia is stubborn but also a bit insecure and her love interest, Gelen, is just the right amount of clumsy and torpe to be endearing. The fun and fast-paced banter depicts the youthfulness of the characters accurately. And the magic parts, though light, are solid and well thought of.

4. Etienne and Amelie – Johanna Lee Prompts: A supporting fairytale character, a lake, pretenses

This retelling of your favorite fairytales retains the fantastical magic of our childhood reads. I’m not going to say which tales get beautifully mashed-up because I think the figuring out is part of the story’s charm. The visualization and choice of words are commendable, as well as the surprising twist at the very end. You have to read this carefully. Blink, and you’ll miss it.

5. Man in Between – Trix Luna Prompts: old train, jewels, an inconvenient truth

This story wasn’t in the original manuscript I got to read in the editing phase so reading it for the first time in the book is quite an experience. It is told in the second person POV, something I rarely get to read and the spec fic theme is also somewhat fresh to me. I don’t know how best to describe it without spoilers except that I thought it felt transcendental. The choice of words really got to me and it was…unsettling, in the way good fiction affects readers even after the story ends.

III. Distortions

6. The Time Banker – Raine Rillera Prompts: A name, a prison cell, music

The sci-fi/spec fic concept for this one has been wonderfully executed, and the interpretation of the prompts, though subtle and downplayed, were key elements in the advancement plot. This is one of the stories chosen after our writing contest and I remembered that even the rough draft of this one was solid so the edited version in the print made for an awesome reread.

7. The Trial of the Tainted – Trix Luna Prompts: A heroic villain, an old parchment, an unforgivable sin

Space and time-travelling were the themes of this interesting short story. I loved the world-building in this one and the twist and turns it took to get to that ‘heroic villain’ bit. There is also an underlying subtheme of a familiar story that everyone knows by now so the marriage of sci-fi elements to that story kind of updated the mysterious plot.

8. Word Wisp – AlaraChan IDA Prompts: aerobics, a secret diary, something unpleasant under the bed

With prompts like those, familiar stories immediately come to mind about monsters and inner demons, yada, yada…but this interpretation of the boogeyman trope is fresh and brilliant. The monster here isn’t a thing, more of a concept, and it doesn’t kill, but rather consumes something everyone often takes for granted. I especially loved the world apocalypse scenes and the people’s reactions to it in this story’s universe.

IV. Penumbra

9. Allegro – RK Sanchez Prompts: A name, a prison cell, music

Our cover artist also contributed a story here, and it is one on the darker themes. This time the mystery is more psychological and less fantastical but is just as interesting as all the other stories.  The author takes a different turn with the interpretation of the prompts and offers a sweet twist toward the end.

10. Thirty-Seven – Yelle Felicenny Prompts: A stolen ring, fear of spiders, a sinister stranger

This was one of my anticipated reads in this book because I only got to read the first part during the editing phase. There’s a bit of action, adventure and mystery here but what really got me was the dark turn of events at about the final quarter of the story.

11. Darker Than Night- AlaraChan IDA Prompts: a campfire, a scream, a small lie that gets bigger and bigger

This is uniquely written in epistolary style/journal entries, and is a dark but captivating read. I don’t read a lot of horror stories (everyone knows I’m a coward, lol) but I couldn’t put this down! I wanted to know what happens to the aswang and the military party that’s pursuing it!

5 of 5 Stars. Because I’m super proud of our work, and it is an honor to have worked on this with awesome writers and awesome people!

Blurb: The 11 stories in this anthology showcase the interpretations of the Kathbute writers to the theme of light and darkness in the genres of Romance, Fantasy, Science Fiction, and Mystery.

Buy Links:

Right now it’s only available in print here: bit.ly/BLADBatch2

I’ll update this when the Kindle version is released. J

For the meantime, put it in your GoodReads TBR shelf? https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36995364-beyond-light-and-darkness-a-kathbute-anthology

About the authors:

Nigel Libranages Nigel Libranages is a licensed chemist but dreams of becoming a marine biologist and take care of sea turtles. Born as a genuine sinker, the closest that he can do about his dream is own an aquarium. He has pitcher plants for pets, and he loves reading about myths and folklore. He writes before he forgets. Dedication: To those who are strong enough to hold on, and brave enough to let go.

Wattpad: @libranages

Raine Rillera Born and raised in Baguio City, Raine has a natural affinity to cold weather and “vintage” clothing (i.e. ukay). Her first paying job was as a puppeteer, when at 8 years old she staged her own puppet show at a birthday party. Since then, she has been telling stories through whatever medium was available.

Wattpad: @purple_porpoise

H. Bentham H. Bentham was born and raised in the Philippines but now resides 1,481 miles away from home. He battles homesickness with his various hobbies and (mostly) procrastinating on the internet. When he's done being bored, he writes stories; and when he's feeling particularly profound, poems. He adores turtles and bettas, enjoying the slow, quiet companionship they provide.

Wattpad: @bentchbites|Facebook: H Bentham Writes | Twitter: @bentchbites| Instagram: @bentchbites

Irina Jean Irina Jean is an elusive mushroom who indulges in anime, manga, video games, and most of all, art. She believes that writing is a unique form of art too, for she can express herself with words as her paint and her laptop as her canvas. When she's not writing, she's usually binge-gaming with friends. She dreams of being a webcomic artist and, if possible, a space witch. (Actually, any kind of witch would do.)

Wattpad: @Cygneux|Facebook: Irina Jean

Trix Luna Trix is the self-proclaimed duchess of the East of the Sun and West of the Moon, a place where there is always light when you need it. She’s still waiting for her Hogwarts acceptance letter even though she is already sorted to Ravenclaw. She’s not adept at any game ending in –ball (basketball, football, volleyball, etc.) other than Quidditch and Scrabble. She has a one-sided relationship with music and strongly opposes to divorce with it, believing that music will learn to love her singing voice…eventually.

Wattpad: @lunatrix|Facebook: Trix Luna | Twitter: @3xLuna

AlaraChan IDA AlaraChan IDA is a kabute who like books, cats, and hot chocolate. She takes long quiet walks, bike rides, and binge-watching a number of TV series to keep her muse alive and kicking. She dreams of becoming a pod racer, a dragon-tamer, and a space pirate. She recently took up watercolor painting and is now torn between writing and the arts.

Wattpad: @AlaraChan| Instagram: @alara_arts

Johanna Lee Johanna Lee is a Filipino writer based in Western Australia who writes poetry, and fictional stories in the genre of Chicklit, Romance, and Paranormal. A published Tagalog Romance author, Radish Fiction writer, and a Children’s-storyteller-wannabe. She finds joy in her collection of toys, books, stationery, and old-fashioned writing tools.

Twitter: @ilivewritenow| Instagram: @ilivewritenow

Yelle Felicenny Felicenny is an awkward melange of multiple extremes: an artist hemmed in a thriving tycoon’s body. While business is her field of study and training remote communities is her passion in public service, her heart belongs to art, poetry and travelling. Bus rides, sunsets and coffee shops are among her favorite things, for the untamed muse beckons the most - inked on bus tickets, receipts and table napkins.

Wattpad: @Felicenny| Facebook: Yelle Felicenny

R.K. Sanchez R.K. Sanchez is a teacher by profession, but is fond of learning a lot of things from her students. Her hands are often dirty as she is a right-handed artist and guitarist, often having guitar string marks on her left hand fingertips and paint stains all over her right hand. She is an introvert who has always been afraid of meeting and approaching new people, but never afraid of approaching stray cats and dogs.

Wattpad : @PrivateHeroine| | Facebook: Skribsinner | Instagram: @skribsinner

[dragonagecompanions]

Dai romances react to the first time the inquisitor kisses them in an affectionate way/on the forehead? Iv been cryin thinkin bout how bull and Dorian and like a lot of the crew have only ever had experience in like purely sexual relationships and have never like had someone love them like that

Cassandra: She flushes. It’s almost impossible not to. By now there’s no doubt that they hold each other in no little affection, and there is still a part of her -the part of her that will always revel in romance- that always cherishes the few moments they are able to sneak away for a brief kiss or tender moment above the forge. But the first time he raises her hand to place a kiss on her knuckles, eyes sparkling as he looks up at her with humor and yet also with an adoration that steals her breathe? She flushes scarlet, and her heart skips a beat as she is swamped with emotion.

Solas: The first time he feel soft brush of her lips against the curve of his ear she is leaving from a meeting with Leliana and he is laying the groundwork for his next mural. The line of the brush jumps as he does, surprised by the brief moment of affection, but even though he must scrape the mistake from the fresco and start again Solas cannot find it in his soul to be frustrated. Rather it is endearing in it’s own way and it brightens hm for the rest of the day.

Sera: She’s got both hands and her teeth involved in tying the fletching on her next batch of arrows, and yet it never crosses her mind that using her teeth as a cutting instrument have limited her affection access until her lover drops a kiss on the tip of her nose. She almost topples over form surprise, but then the Red Jenny bursts out laughing and tackles her Inqy with a kiss of her own. It’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for her, and it becomes their thing for mornings or greetings.

Blackwall: Carving can put knots like no one would believe in the arms and shoulders, and no amount of kneading can stop the pain in muscles that he can’t reach on his own. But the first time his lady massages those tension knots from him the warrior all but collapses into a puddle. And when she presses a kiss to the center of his shoulder blades, for those moments when she cannot be there to make the tension stop, his heart almost bursts. And Blackwall will carry the sensation of it for hours afterwards, a smile carved onto his face.

Iron Bull: It’s funny, sometimes, how much taller he is than his Kadan. Even if they are qunari his horns and sheer size puts him over most. And so the almost frustrated huff the Inquisitor gives him when they are preparing to leave makes him laugh and go to pat their head. And yet the kiss they place on the inside of his wrist stops that cold. It could be sexual- should be sexual, would be in any other relationship-, but with them…it’s more. It’s affection and promise, love and something that is simply theirs all rolled into one. Later he will find himself rubbing the spot for hours, mind running a thousand miles an hour but with a smile on his face.

Dorian: He loves his amatus. He does, loves him truly and deeply and anyone who says otherwise will meet the altus to face that insult. The hours he spends with the Inquisitor are some of the best in his life, and every affectionate moment washes clear some of the fear and loneliness he thought he would always carry. And for that the ‘vint will always be grateful. But he is also a scholar, and when his focus is on something it can be hard to shake loose. He is aware that his amatus has come to bid him farewell before another turn in the field, and he is going to look up from his book any second to give them a proper send off, he is– but then he hears the other man chuckle, and suddenly the Inquisitor has bent down to press a kiss to the crown of his head, a gentle bit of pressure where his hair parts. And while the necromancer playfully swats them away and insists on giving them a proper send off later he will sit in his chair, fingers running tiny circles around the spot, and wonder at this love that he has found.

Josephine: A diplomat’s work is never finished, and it is to Lady Montilyet frustration that she can never carve out enough free time to spend with her love as she would like. Between their constant world missions and her drive to make sure said missions are funded their paths do not often cross. And so she is delighted when they wander into her office with a tray and an offer to split the duties of letter writing– especially as there are some nobles who would be far more helpful after receiving something in the herald’s own hand. And while the gentle kiss that they press to her temple as they collect their half of the work is new, it immediately seems right. And if she spends the next ew days brushing her fingers across it and sighing no one needs to know why but her.

Cullen: There were times, particularly near the end of his tenure in Kirkwall, where Cullen was sure that the Maker had abandoned him. That his failure as Knight Captain had sundered him from grace, and that he was doomed to carry that failure all his life. But then the Inquisitor tumbled from the Fade and into his arms, and for the first tme it felt like he could breathe again. There were bad nights and horrible days, and when he finally tells her the truth the Commander is terrified that he is going to lose this last thing that truly gives meaning to his life. But the kiss sh presses to his forehead is like benediction, forgiveness and love all rolled into one, and for the first time in too long he can see a future in his mind’s eye– with her by his side.

– Mod Fereldone

[geekprincess26]

Two Hearts: Chapter 1

Written for Day 5 of Jon x Sansa Fanfiction’s 15 Days of Valentine’s challenge.

Also, I should add that this fic is different from @nevercomingdown‘s lovely story “Unintended,” which was posted before mine and written for the same challenge.  When I realized we’d independently written stories based on the same concept, I let her know, and she graciously allowed my fic to share the spotlight with her (superior) one.  Please make sure to check out “Unintended” if you haven’t already!

Sansa was at the theater with Jeyne Poole when it happened.

One moment, she was watching Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi swing their lightsabers at each other’s heads.  The next, her own head was exploding with pain, and explosions of light shattered her vision behind her eyelids.

She was aware that she had buried her head in her elbows and thrown her hands to the back of her neck in a vain attempt to stop the pain and the lights and the overwhelming urge to vomit. She was not aware that she had fallen out of her chair and collapsed on the floor, or that she was covered in the buttered popcorn she’d been holding in her lap, or that Jeyne was frantically shaking her by the shoulders and screaming for somebody to call 911.  She could not even feel it when the man from three seats over picked her up and carried her out of the room while the woman next to him wrapped one arm around the shoulders of a shaking Jeyne and used the other to hold her cell phone.  All she knew was that the pain had spread to her neck and shoulders, and that her left arm and leg were throbbing as though broken several times over.

The first thing of which she became aware after the waves of pain began to subside was that she was vomiting all over the floor of the lobby.  Then she felt someone’s hand on her back and her hair being swept behind her head and Jeyne’s shaky voice calling her name.  Sansa reached out and grabbed her friend’s arm with all of her might. She barely registered the other girl’s squeal of pain.

“Robb,” she gasped. “Robb’s in trouble.  It’s Robb, not me.  Jeyne, call Mom and Dad!”

She grabbed the other girl’s arm, and Jeyne’s face turned as white as Sansa’s.  Her hands shook violently as she reached into her purse for her phone.  Sansa released the other girl’s arm and flopped onto her back again.  She felt the cold metal of one of the lobby benches behind her head and blinked as several strange faces popped into view. Almost as many voices spoke around her. At first she only heard vague undulations, but gradually the higher voices separated from the lower ones, the male voices from the female, the confused from the alarmed.  One of them, a deep, booming male voice, rose above the others, and Sansa was able to make out the words, which formed an order to everybody to get back and “let the girl breathe.”

The voices began to recede, and Sansa could hear Jeyne again.  The pain in her head receded just enough for her to make out the other girl’s words.

“Mr. Stark’s still checking…?  OK… No? … Oh, here they – Mrs. Stark, the EMTs are here now for Sansa… Yes, she’s awake… He’s still trying?  It’s still going to voicemail?”

Jeyne’s voice rose higher the longer she spoke, becoming so shrill at the end that the throbbing in Sansa’s head, which had begun to recede, came roaring back, along with the dread that had arisen in the pit of Sansa’s stomach when she had first gotten the headache.  Sansa covered her ears and tried to breathe.  One in.  One out, sounded the familiar mantra in her head, a mantra that had gotten her through several similar attacks throughout her childhood. Two in.  Two out. Three in.  Three out –

Sansa felt a tap on her arm and bolted upright, dropping her hands from her ears as she did so.  She opened her eyes to see the concerned face of a middle-aged woman in a white shirt right in front of her own.  She hastily scooted backward along the bench, but her hands, propped up behind her, ran out of room into empty air, and she would have tumbled onto the floor but for a strong pair of arms that stopped her and held her in place.  

“Sansa!”  Jeyne shrieked, and Sansa slowly turned to see the other girl huddled next to the woman in the white shirt.  “Sansa!  Can you hear me?”

Sansa blinked and swung her legs off the bench with a moan.  A second pair of arms reached out to steady her, and Sansa realized they belonged to the woman.  

“Sansa?”  The woman’s voice, while concerned, was much calmer than Jeyne’s.  “Can you hear me?”

Sansa nodded slowly so as not to bring back the worst of the headache, which was receding again.  “I’m fine,” she said.  “It’s my brother.  He’s hurt – ”

“Her brother, Robb Stark,” explained Jeyne.  Both the woman and a young man next to her, who was wearing an identical white shirt and must have owned the pair of arms that had kept Sansa from tumbling off the bench, looked around them as though expecting to see Robb collapsed onto the theater’s floor somewhere.

“No, not here,” Jeyne continued.  Her voice had lowered considerably, although it was shaking.  “She can feel it when he gets hurt badly, even if it’s miles away. She’s done it before.  They’re twins,” she finished by way of explanation. Both strangers – paramedics, Sansa corrected herself – both still looked confused, but after a moment, they snapped into action.  The man put a blood pressure cuff on her right arm, and the woman grabbed her left wrist and put a gentle finger to the inside of it.

Sansa sighed through gritted teeth.  “I’m fine,” she said, and turned to Jeyne.  “Jeyne, did my mom – ”

Jeyne shook her head. “She and your dad are trying to find him now,” she said.  “His phone kept going to voicemail when your dad called it, so they’re trying his friends now.”  She blinked as though Sansa’s headache had somehow transplanted itself into her own cranium.  “Sansa, where this time?  Just his head?”

Sansa shook her head. “Neck,” she replied.  “Left side.  His whole left side – his arm and leg and probably his ribs too.”  She blinked, and suddenly a flood of tears crowded behind her eyelids.  Two of them hit her cheeks before she could stop them.

“Sansa.”  The female paramedic’s voice forced her to open her eyes. “Honey, your blood pressure’s 160 over 123.  Your pulse is over 100.  You should be seen by a doctor.  We’re going to get you a stretcher, OK?”

Sansa stared blankly at her. The woman began to explain everything again, but Sansa shook her head.

“I’ll be fine,” she protested again.  “It’s my brother – ”

“We’ll radio dispatch on our way in to see if they’ve got reports of any incidents involving someone matching his description,” she said.  “What does he look like, dear?”

A sudden burst of pain tore through Sansa’s left leg.  Two more tears leaked from her eyes, and then the dam burst and her face was wet all over.

“Nineteen years old,” she gasped.  “Six foot one.  Auburn hair. Blue eyes.  Freckles – but just on his left cheek, not on his right – ”

Her voice gave out, and the sobs overtook her.  After that, everything around her became a blur.

-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-

Sansa awoke to see her mother’s face, instead of the female paramedic’s, hovering over her own.

“Oh, Sansa,” sighed Catelyn Stark.  Her eyes were as red as Sansa’s felt, and her face littered with the marks of barely dried tears.  “My Sansa. How are you feeling, my love?”

The sick feeling returned to Sansa’s stomach at once.  Her mother only used the endearment “my love” when she was extremely worried.  Sansa gritted her teeth to bite back the vomit. It was then that she realized the pain throughout the rest of her body had largely subsided.

“He’s feeling better, Mom,” she said.  She reached down to plant her elbows into the bed on which she was lying so she could prop herself up, but her right arm was thwarted by a plastic IV line stuck into the back of her hand.  

“They gave you Ativan, honey,” Catelyn told her, but Sansa did not care.

“Robb’s feeling better, Mom,” she repeated.  “Did you find him?  Did Dad – ”

Catelyn Stark’s face, already lighter than its normal porcelain tone under the glare of the fluorescent bulbs lining the ceiling above Sansa’s head, turned pure white.

“He was in a car accident, sweetie,” she said.  Sansa, whom her mother had last called “sweetie” when she had been twelve years old and sick with the chicken pox, felt the ugly dread from before claw back into her gut with full force.

“But he’s not in as much pain – ” she said weakly.  The look on her mother’s face stopped her.

“They induced a coma, honey.”  Catelyn Stark’s voice barely rose above a whisper.  “His brain was swelling too badly.  They couldn’t stop it.”  She swallowed, and as she opened her mouth to continue, Sansa thought that her mother looked at least twenty years more than her actual age.  She clutched instinctively at her chest.

“But his heart’s beating, Mom,” she protested.  “His heart’s fine, so – ”

Catelyn Stark shook her head.  “The life-support unit is keeping it that way, sweetheart,” she replied, “so that it can – it can be donated.  He’s brain dead.”  She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, but one of the tears she was trying to stave off escaped.  It ran down her cheek like a bolt of lightning in the glare of the fluorescent bulbs embedded into the room’s ceiling.

Sansa’s voice returned with her mother’s tears.  At first she thought her mother was screaming in anguish, but after several moments she realized that Catelyn Stark’s lips were forming her daughter’s name, not the words no and Robb repeated in shrieks that bounced off of the walls. Then she felt arms and hands all over her, holding her down, and she tried to fight them off, but there were too many of them.  The last thing she felt before darkness claimed her again was a stream of cool liquid seeping into her right arm.

-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-

A smart knock sounded on the door of the hospital room.

“Come in,” called the woman, putting down her battered iPhone 4S.  She shook her head at her own absent-mindedness.  Whoever had knocked would come in whether or not she liked it.

A middle-aged man wearing a white coat and a kindly face stepped into the room and held out his hand. “Hello, Lyanna,” he said by way of greeting.

She rose from the chair parked at her son’s bedside and held out her right hand to shake his, but her left hand retained its hold on Jon’s.

“Dr. Mormont,” she said, and despite how many times he’d crushed it, the bloom of hope overwhelmed her chest again.  This time, though, instead of shaking his head, he smiled and pulled the other chair from the opposite side of Jon’s bed to sit within feet of her own.

“Would you like to sit, please?” he said, and the woman complied.  He would not, after all, say anything until she had.

“Please – ” she began. The doctor’s smile expanded.

“A matching heart has been found for Jon,” he said, and Lyanna, although she had spent two horrible years swearing she would not do it, burst into tears.

Sorry I only had time to post the one chapter for the theme day, folks!  I’m planning to write and upload the remaining chapters after the end of the challenge. :-)

[itsworn]

Day-Two Restored 1968 Chevelle Time Capsule

For more than two hundred million years, dinosaurs pummeled the Jurassic landscape. Yikes, they were all over the place. They thundered. They bellowed. They shook the ground. They shook the trees and really were omnipotent. But their packaging was wrong. Their sheer size ultimately doomed them due to inefficiency; “natural” causes brought them down and eventually turned the muck into fossil fuel.

The time was right and the price was cheap, but if you’ve just plowed into your 40s you weren’t around when American dinosaurs roamed the realm. Their manic popularity represented an orgy of national insecurity juxtaposed with national pride and cursed by carcinogenic entrails. Yikes, but they were raising hell all over the place. Even in our limited and primitive view of the world, we had a nagging suspicion that this stomping, snarling pig iron just wouldn’t make it. In the end, it was geopolitics and overzealous insurance wanks driving four-cylinder turds that brought them down.

You’ll have to remember that part about beauty being in the eye of the beholder.

Maybe John Provenzano will start a trend here. His Chevelle is an original SS 396 and he intends to keep it that way. Though it may represent stock, all primary systems have been rebuilt to fight physics. Out there on the Kansas plains John isn’t excited about flogging his Chebby beyond anything that would have gone down when it was showroom new. These boats ripped wonderfully as long as the line was straight, but their brakes weren’t very good and their suspensions didn’t yield much beyond rudimentary “handling.” The bias-ply tires were laughable.

What is the car’s most endearing quality? Simply that it doesn’t shout. It whispers. To see it today as it was when it came out of the oven is sobering. We’ve been captured (trained) by the ideas and the handiwork of many, many thousands of hot rodders driven to change everything to personalize their rides so it’s a little unsettling to see a new build that has been updated and looks fresher, but really is no different. So you add some familiar cues, like the period-correct Cragar S/S chromies and the tall aspect-ratio BFG raised white letter Radial T/A tires that faithfully maintain a soaked-in-the-’60s aura.

You keep looking for the big changes. You look closer; check out the engine bay. Cast-iron logs. No headers. But being who he is, John Pro just couldn’t keep his hands off the engine. Nowadays, the smooth, streamlined firewall has become a neutral backdrop, a foil to celebrate the almighty fire-breather and compared to what we’ve experienced for the last 15 years or so, the clutter here seems incredulous. Still, John could do no less than revive the original (C60) HVAC system that included a 61-amp alternator, heavy-duty radiator, and a temperature-controlled fan.

John’s almost 60 now and has been lassoed by this stuff since he was a young teen. “My brother, who is eight years my senior bought a new ’69 Chevelle SS, which he still owns, and I wanted a Chevelle SS, too.” So he found the car in a penny pincher pulp. It was his first one and had 63,000 on the clock. He liked it because the body was sound. In August 1974, his parents laid out $1,500. “It wasn’t the highest bid,” said John with a wink, “but the owner thought I’d take care of it.” He got it the day he turned 15. In the first sweaty hours, he pedaled it more than 100 miles. He says that the most challenging part of the history was building the car the way he wanted it.

John’s main man in all of this is Mark Bauer, whose stellar constellation whirls in Wichita, Kansas. His shop handled the critical chore. In 2005, Bauer performed a body-off restoration. They elected to replay the original and repainted the SS with PPG Tripoli Turquoise (GM Code KK). It is simultaneously chilling and cathartic to see this car now as it was 50 years ago. Look at the interior. To us it’s still familiar and unsullied but looks heavy and a little overbearing. There’s not a drop of humor or whimsy peeking out of that featureless sea of N.O.S. black.

As for that big-block: roughly 97 percent of the SS cars built in 1968 were equipped with the RPO L35 325-horsepower version of the 396. For modern life, Tracy Pedigo did the updates. He gave the cylinder block a quarter-inch cleanup poke to make the total 402. He stuck a flat tappet cam in it. He sealed the bores with Edelbrock cylinder heads and capped the pile with an Edelbrock Performer manifold. He iced that cake with a Proform carburetor.

“Now, I enjoy driving the car on dry, sunny days and I dust it off once a month,” said John. “I do take it to local shows and I drive it very carefully, but test its limits now and then, if you know what I mean. This is my own piece of Americana.” CHP

Tech Check Owner: John Provenzano, Wichita, Kansas Vehicle: 1968 Chevelle SS 396

Engine Type: Mark IV (RPO L35) Displacement: 402 ci Compression Ratio: 10.25:1 Bore: 4.125 inches Stroke: 3.760 inches Cylinder Heads: Edelbrock RPM 454-0 oval port, 2.19/1.88 valves, 110cc combustion chambers Rotating Assembly: OE forged crankshaft, OE connecting rods w/ 3/8-inch SPS bolts, forged Speed-Pro pistons Valvetrain: Comp valvesprings and hydraulic lifters, Magnum 3/8-inch pushrods Camshaft: Comp High Energy 268H (224/230-deg. duration at 0.050; 0.515/0.520-inch lift) Induction: Edelbrock Performer RPM intake manifold, Proform 750-cfm carburetor Ignition: PerTronix Ignitor III Exhaust: Cast-iron manifolds, 2 1/2-inch exhaust system, MagnaFlow mufflers Ancillaries: Be Cool radiator Machine Work: Wikle Performance (Wichita, KS) Built By: Tracy Pedigo at Pedigo Performance (Wichita, KS) Tuner: Tracy Pedigo Output (at the crank): 450 hp

Drivetrain Transmission: Coan Turbo 400, B&M torque converter Rear Axle: Original 12-bolt, Positraction differential, 3.73:1 gears

Chassis Front Suspension: Original rebuilt, Delco shocks Rear Suspension: Original rebuilt, Delco shocks Brakes: 11-inch rotors, two-piston calipers

Wheels & Tires Wheels: Cragar S/S 15×6 front, 15×8 rear Tires: BFGoodrich Radial T/A 215/60 front, 255/60 rear

Interior Upholstery: Scott Downey, Downey’s Auto Upholstery (Wichita, KS) Material: Vinyl Seats: Original Steering: Original Shifter: Original Dash: Original w/ N.O.S. insert Instrumentation: Original Audio: Original AM/FM HVAC: Original GM

Exterior Bodywork: Mark Bauer, Bauer Auto Restoration (Wichita, KS) Paint By: Mark Bauer Paint: PPG Tripoli Turquoise (GM Code KK) Hood: Stock Grille: Stock Bumpers: Stock

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