#anyways real worried about her for book four. if she has to find out she’s gay it’s gonna be so brutal

[sofhtie]

SORRY for still posting about them. as if it’s my fault no one’s writing girlbestfriends like seth

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One TwentySix

Eddie climbs into the beemer, looking as hang dog as Steve has ever seen him, “what’s wrong?”

Eddie fiddles with his sweater cuffs, plucking at them with his finger nails, frowning, “we...speak English?”

“Yeah, that’s right. That’s what the language is called, English.”

“And...many more? Languages? Lots and lots, right?”

“Yeah baby, that’s right, what’s wrong?” Steve grows increasingly more alarmed, Eddie actually looks like he might cry.

“I have to learn more? Learn all?”

“Oh! Oh no, not if you don’t want to. You could learn another one one day, but only if you want to.”

“Sure? Do you promise?”

“Yeah. Yes, baby, I promise. Just this one.”

Eddie sags in his seat, whole body crumpling with relief. Steve can’t help but laugh, but he does give Eddie’s hand a comforting squeeze.

Eddie gets into the beemer holding one massive fucking sunflower. Like, the head of the thing is just. Huge.

“Too big. Too different,” Eddie elaborates, “can’t sell it.”

“Well, that’s okay, it’ll fit in perfect on the coffee table,” Eddie nods affably at Steve’s suggestion.

“Stevie?” Steve hums to show he’s listening, checking his mirrors as he pulls out of the car parking space. “Should we go to church?”

“Church?”

“Mrs. Vanderbilt,” Eddie sounds the name carefully, “say she’s worried about my immortal soul.”

“Does she now. And who is Mrs. Vanderbilt?”

“She makes flower arrangements for church. Stevie? What’s an immortal soul?”

Steve snorts a laugh, “well. Uhm. So there’s...some people believe that there’s God, and heaven and hell and stuff like that. And there’s loads of religions, like with languages, lots of places have different ones and...God is kind of like...do you remember El explaining about Santa at Christmas?”

“Yes. He has a beard and reindeer and choose if you’re good, then gifts. Not real though, fun for kids believe.”

“Yeah. Yeah God is like that, but for grown-ups. And instead of gifts you get into heaven when you die.” Steve sees Eddie’s face crinkle up in his peripheral vision, “actually, you know what, I bet there’s a book about this, library detour?”

Eddie nods, humming agreeably.

The book on religions they find at the library is probably, now, a little below Eddie’s reading level, but it seemed like the best option at the time. When Eddie looks up from it and asks, “think The Upside Down is hell?” Steve sort of regrets the idea of a book.

“No. No I don’t.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah. Hell's probably more like, fire. And brimstone. And I never once saw a little demon with a pitchfork. Also, and I know this for absolute certain, there’s no way someone as good as you comes from Hell.”

“Oh.”

“I think...it’s up to you want you want to decide baby, you read as much as you like, and you think about it, but I think it’s made up, like a-” Steve hesitates over actually saying 'fairy tale', since he’s talking to a guy who, literally, is like a character from one of those stories, “like something that’s made up," He finishes lamely. "Anyway, forget the book, come up here, I haven’t won the kissing game for a couple of days and I’m feeling lucky.”

Eddie leaves the book, forgotten for a while, and Steve decides the first chance he gets he’s taking that one back.

“Stevie!” Eddie bursts through the door of family video, luckily it’s the middle of the day and the place is dead. He breezes straight past Steve and presents four pink roses to Robin, “from Chrissy,” he tells her, causing a spectacular blush to form on Robins cheeks before she sinks down behind the counter.

Eddie completely ignores her. “Knock knock.”

“Who's there?” Steve asks reflexively.

“Eddie with some flowers,” Eddie says proudly, and then promptly bursts out laughing.

“Uhm...Eddie with some flowers who?”

“What?” Eddie looks confused.

“...what?” Steve asks, feeling as confused as Eddie looks.

Eddie brightens again a second later, “knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” Steve asks again, cautious this time.

“Family Video.”

“Family video...who?”

“Family video not house!” Eddie declares, and then laughs uproariously.

From behind the counter, Robin Whispers, “what is happening?”

“I have...absolutely no idea,” Steve answers, right before Eddie starts again on another nonsensical knock knock joke.

There isn’t much that Eddie does that annoys Steve, to be fair, there’s not really anything. But this. By the time he gets home he’s had enough of Eddie’s one man comedy act. “Joyce,” he hisses down the phone desperately, “you don’t understand how shit they are; they don’t even mean anything.”

She has the audacity to laugh at him, “I remember the boys going through that phase. They both did it when they were...four? Maybe Jon was five.”

“How long does it last???”

“Oh, I don’t know, few months maybe, off and on?”

Steve, very gently, bangs his forehead against the wall.

Eddie’s holding a bunch of something pink and only, maybe, a tiny bit wilted. He’s bright eyed as he gets into the car, “Stevie, Chrissy say at me about a new thing. We can try?”

“Sure, baby, what is it?” Steve has the car in reverse, checking his mirrors as he pulls out of the spot.

“Blowjobs.”

Steve’s really pleased with how well he just...doesn’t react to that. Because, truthfully, he’s thought about it. He has. Really. But...well. Eddie’s teeth are sharp. And it’s not that Steve thinks Eddie would ever, ever hurt him on purpose, but that doesn’t mean Steve doesn’t have some, potentially, unresolved toe loss related trauma. And then there’s Eddie’s dick, and how...wriggly it is. How the end opens up and the...well. Just the whole thing, really.

“Stevie?”

“Why...are you and Chrissy talking about blowjobs?”

Eddie shrugs, “Chrissy not really like them, she ask if I liked them. I say I not try them. She said…” Eddie frowns, thinking, “she said, ‘you never get a blowjob?’ and got...angry sad? At Stevie?”

“Oh, she thought I was getting blowjobs but never giving you blowjobs?” Steve can, vaguely, feel his eye starting to twitch. He also can’t help but be fucking irritated with Chrissy, not only is it not her business, but he also can’t really be annoyed with her because...really if that’s what she was worried about, she is only sticking up for Eddie. He’s so naive, there’s no way Chrissy hasn’t picked up on just how innocent Eddie is, so Steve can't really blame her for thinking that anyone could take advantage of Eddie.

Even if it is fucking annoying.

“Yes, but I tell her no blow jobs at all. But we can try now, right?”

“Right. Right. Yeah. Sure. Uh hu.”

Eddie nods, “when we get home.”

“Right,” Steve says, with far more confidence than he feels.

“Stevie? Why not tell about blowjobs before?”

Steve hums, “just kind of...was saving it for a special occasion?” He tries desperately, he can’t look at Eddie as he speaks, keeping his eyes on the road, “didn’t want to go through all the good stuff too fast, you know?”

“Oh okay.”

Eddie limpets himself to Steve the second they’re over the threshold, demanding kisses, his fingers already exploring around Steve’s jeans button, “hang on hang on, couch or bed?”

“Couch,” Eddie answers easily, still kissing Steve as they walk awkwardly though the house. Steve sits, letting Eddie kneel between his legs, fumbling with his zipper.

And, the thing is, Steve really, genuinely believed he could do this. He trusts Eddie, he does. He loves Eddie, really, but he’s not even half hard when Eddie gets him out. And like Eddie...is, he tends to just go for things. Steve catches sight of the teeth and just...can’t. His hands are in Eddie’s way and he’s tucking himself away again before he can really think about it, “could we, maybe, leave this until...later?”

Eddie pouts, “want to try.”

“I just, I don’t want to do this right now, okay?” And the guilt Steve feels is a live thing. He remembers so clearly when he’d been frightened of Eddie’s dick, and how upset Eddie had been. That same fear raises it’s ugly head.

“But why? Chrissy tell me boys really like it-”

“I mean, I do. Kind of. But I just think we could...not do this.”

“But Chrissy say-”

“Jesus Christ Eddie.” Steve snaps, getting angry now. He’s not going to be prodded into doing something he just doesn’t want to do. Especially not by Chrissy Cunningham. “Since you’ve been working with her it’s been Chrissy this and Chrissy that, can’t you just, leave it? For once?” Steve gets up, needing to be away from this conversation.

“But why?”

“Because I just don’t want to, okay? Why don’t you go and ask Chrissy since she knows everything,” Steve snaps again, he knows he’s snapping, and it’s just making him angrier at himself for reacting this way, but he can’t seem to stop himself, defensiveness fueled by the guilt eating at him.

“Maybe,” Eddie says, hands on hips, frowning from the doorway.

“Go then. Go ask her what I should do about it.”

Eddie’s frown is nuclear now as he faces Steve across the kitchen, he tries to speak, half formed words at first, Eddie clearly struggling as he gets upset, “you think? You think?? You promise forever! Stee scared of Eddidie more! Eddidie different! Stee tell away!”

“You are though, you are different!” Steve knows he's wrong the second he says it. He knows Eddie well enough that saying that in anger is a cheap shot, and unforgivable low blow.

Eddie’s mouth pops open, shocked and affronted. He goes to speak but just...doesn’t. He turns and leaves...Steve hears the front door go.

“For fucks sake,” he sighs to himself, angry and upset with himself, the fight goes out of him as he’s swamped by guilt. Steve makes himself move to follow Eddie out. He opens the door just in time to watch Eddie pull the beemer out of the driveway, “oh fuck.”

“There’s pretty much only one place he would go, I think.” Steve tells Hopper, “so I’m pretty sure he will be there.”

Hopper hums from the drivers seat, “and what exactly did you two fight about?”

“I...well. I think this is one of those times where you don’t ask unless you’re really sure you want to know.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, there it is,” Steve breathes a massive sigh of relief, the beemer is parked near the florist. Tight to the curb too, a good parking job, and there’s not a single mark on her. The florists however, is shut for the day.

Steve bangs on the door, peering through the glass. It’s dark inside, but there’s some light shining through that little door in the back. Steve knocks on the glass again, and eventually Chrissy appears. She unlocks the door, immediately telling Steve, “he doesn’t want to see you.”

“Kid, can I go?” Hopper calls from where he’s half tucked the truck out of the way.

“Yeah,” Steve waves him off, turning back to Chrissy, “I need to apologize to him. Please.”

She scowls and makes a vague humphing noise at him, “fine,” Steve slips awkwardly through the gap Chrissy allows him, and once in she locks the door behind him. Steve follows her into the shop, “Eddie, I’m putting some stuff in the car out back, you come get me if you need me, okay?”

Steve comes around the doorway to see Eddie nodding sadly, he’s sitting in what must be their tiny break room. There’s two chairs and a beat up Formica top table, a little electric kettle on top of a under counter refrigerator. Eddie’s got a scrunched up wad of tissues in his hand where he’s clearly been crying.

“Hi Eddie,” Eddie fiddles with his tissues and keeps his eyes on his knees, not looking at Steve, so he pulls up the other chair, “I’m really sorry.” Eddie nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“I just,” Steve sighs, rubbing at his face roughly, “I did get scared okay? But I shouldn’t have...I should have just explained, I shouldn’t have shouted.”

Eddie nods, shredding the tissue, “I sorry too.”

“It’s...not you're fault. Not really. I just...Eddie, your teeth are really sharp you know, and my dick is...my dick. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose, okay, I know that but…”

“Chri-” Eddie bites it back, and stops speaking again.

“Yeah. I’m sorry about that too. It’s good you have a friend okay? It’s good she’s...teaching you things I haven’t thought of. It’s…you can talk about Chrissy, it’s fine.”

“Chrissy say...no people should do anything they don’t want to. Especially with sex stuff...so Eddie a bit wrong,” he sniffles, “but she help me dig hole anyway.”

“What hole?”

“For your body. Dead soon, but that...kind of funny joke?”

Eddie says it in a way that means he did not find it funny at all, and Steve snorts a laugh, “yeah. Yeah, she’s a good friend.”

They sit in silence for another minute before Steve offers, “you did a really good job of parking the car...do you want to drive me home?”

“Yeah,” Eddie stands, and so does Steve, and then they both move in for a hug at the same time, Eddie desperately throwing his arms around Steve's shoulders and holding him as tight as he can.

Steve swears to himself he’s going to do better with this stuff, and lets himself nose at Eddie’s ear, his skin tickled by Eddie’s new curls.

Eddie answers the phone, “Harrington residence,” he says carefully.

Steve watches him frown for a second, before he says, “yes, wait please,” and then offers the phone to Steve, “doctors.”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Steve takes the phone, confirming his address and date of birth, before the lady tells him his test results are ready to pick up.

He hangs up, and Eddie’s there, offering him a pen, “that your birthday?”

“I- yeah. Yeah it was.”

Eddie nods, “should be on calendar before, Stevie,” Eddie admonishes gently.

“Okay, I’ll do it now, and then we can go get my results, okay?”

Eddie nods, “no more condoms,” he says solemnly.

Steve snorts a startled laugh.

There’s a frantic banging on the front door, then the bell rings. The bell rings again before Steve can even clamber up off the couch. It’s Eddie and Chrissy, and they hustle into the house before Steve even has the door all the way open.

Steve’s already alarmed, he isn’t due to pick Eddie up for another hour at least, and Chrissy wouldn’t just close the store unless it was an emergency.

“What happened?”

“There was a man,” Chrissy explains a little breathless, “Eddie hid behind the counter the second he saw him, and I’m sure he didn’t see Eddie, I’m sure. But he was asking questions. If a young man worked at the store, weird things about Starcourt. I just kept telling him no Steve but- he’s definitely looking for Eddie.”

Steve feels a mounting sense of dread as she speaks, “Eddie, did you know him?”

Eddie nods, looking frightened, “Starcourt. When I was in tank.”

“Tank?” Chrissy pulls a face, “what tank?”

“Uhm,” Steve suddenly realizes that Chrissy maybe shouldn’t be here for this part, Steve definitely needs to call Hopper, “Chrissy, thank you, but maybe you should go-”

“Absolutely not. Not if Eddie’s in trouble-”

“Okay, but the thing is-”

“Steve.” Chrissy huffs, “I know, okay?”

“You know...what?”

“I don’t know!” She flails a little, “I don’t know what I don’t know! But I do know that Eddie had never heard of the moon landing! He didn’t know that the guy on the five dollars is Abraham Lincoln! He didn’t know that other languages exist and he certainly can’t speak anything other than English even though, according to you,” she pokes Steve in the chest, “he should be able to speak Finnish! And he can’t!”

She’s getting worked up now, and Steve finds himself taking a step back, his hands up in defeat. For a tiny cheerleader, Chrissy’s kind of scary.

“He can find one bug in a delivery of a hundred stems Steve! And do you know how, he told me he can hear them! Hear them! I’ve watched him trim anything from daises to roses to full on sunflowers with his thumbnails Steve! He can cut baler twine with them. And don’t get me started on the florist wire, do you know what he does with that? He just straight up fucking bites through it!” Chrissy gets louder and pinker the longer she rants.

“He came to work with a mashed potato sandwich, like that's normal!! His tears are fucking brown! Brown! Those fingernails, that’s not polish, they’ve never been chipped, not once, they just grow that way, right? And I might be a blonde cheerleader but I am not stupid. So no. Okay, no. I don’t know what Eddie is. But I do know he’s my godamn best friend and if he’s in trouble, I want to help, okay?”

She’s all bright eyed and kind of breathless, and just a little terrifying. Eddie’s got his hands up in front of himself, nervously pulling at the threads of his cuffs, eyes big and worried as they slide back and forth between Steve and Chrissy.

Steve sighs, “okay. Okay. We can explain, but I just...I need to make a call first.”

Part TwentyEight

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

what the fuck is the Wire Mother book. Sociology has lore now?

oh boy okay

so you remember the Divergent books? the YA boom of the early 2010's? The Wire Mother was one of those series. they turned the Harlow's monkey experiments into dystopia factions.

yeah. i know. bear with me

The first book, The Wire Mother (2010) is pretty standard YA dystopia fare. There's this girl named Leo Groves (the Leo's short for Leonore) who lives in the court of the Cloth Mother, a city where people live in comfort and camaraderie and a general vibe of hold hands around the campfire and sing, except for the people who die at random. This is accepted with unsettling what-can-you-do calm from the main characters. (Eventually, it's revealed that's happening because only a 1/5th of the food served in the city is real, so most of the people are dropping dead of starvation but their bodies are quickly hurried away as to not kill the vibe, so no one worries all that much about it).

Which could have been cool speculative fiction! A handy story about desensitization to violence or complacency or something. Unfortunately, this was 2010 YA, so the concept is quickly kicked under the bed in favor of. yeah. A love triangle. Leo, being a special little narratively significant thing, finds her way to the mysterious other city on the other side of her hometown, the court of the Wire Mother. And when she's there, she meets a boy. Coil 54810.

Coil goddamn 54810.

That brooding son of a bitch. His last name is 54810 because the concept of last names and family doesn't exist in the court of the Wire Mother, only functionality, so 54810 is just the number of Coils there's been in the city. He's not a clone or anything, it's just the amount of people who've had that name. It's like being named Jeremy 54810. Killer of plot pacing. Swoopy of hair. He would have deserved to be named Jeremy.

God, anyway, I'm talking a lot about this. Anyway: The Wire Mother is exactly as good as the average YA dystopia book from the time period. It has some high points (the Cloth and Wire mother are cool ominously looming entities, and the main antagonist Jane-Mary has a level of batshit mad science energy to her that makes her the most fun villain in the series) and some low points (the forced Romeo and Juliet references. the forced romance. It is so clear that Benjamin St. Jobs, the other guy in the love triangle, doesn't stand a chance, but we have to keep who-will-it-be-ing for so long anyway. And Coil's a dick), but it mostly just balances out.

There were three more books in the series. There was supposed to be four, but. Well

Anyway. Book Two, The Wire Mother: Hounds' Toll (2012), actually kind of slapped. It went to more tragic and horror-influenced places than the original book. One thing I'll give Angela Lee (the author) credit for: I don't think this was a sequel for the sake of having a sequel. I think that the series was always supposed to be a pentalogy.

Some of the stuff in this book has still stuck with me to this day- I have to hold myself back from adding ominously ringing church bells in so many of my projects. Also, it really filled out Leo Groves as a protagonist- I could take or leave her in the first book, but I started to genuinely like her by the second. And the stuff they do with Stellarose Ardent, her best friend turned rival... God, I could make a whole post about Stellarose Ardent.

this book series is good, readers thought. surely the third book will be as good if not better

THE THIRD BOOK WAS HELL. The Wire Mother: Ordained Voltage (2013)...I think it did everything wrong. There was a reason that there was a two year break between the first two books, and book three being out only a year after Hounds' Toll really shows.

It's incredibly rushed. Leo barely gets to do anything. Stellarose is killed off in the most unsatisfying way possible. And while it seemed like Book Two had neatly put the love triangle to bed, no! It claws its way out of its grave!! To torment me specifically!

The only good thing we got out of this car wreck is Anesthesia 3, lab rat girl and apocalypse maiden extraordinaire. I adore her. She's got real Fish Inside A Birdcage vibes. Everything else, though? Horrors.

But readers held out hope. At least the characters ended up trapped in an interesting setting at the end of book three. The merciless, multi-layered prison of Tithonus, the central antagonist of the series. It seemed like that was a good set-up for a prison escape storyline. Those have to be entertaining, right?

Somehow, some way, no. Book Four, The Wire Mother: Endless Sentence (2014) is not just bad. I could forgive bad. But it is bad, and it is boring.

so boring that I'm not even going to waste my words on it. It's a school night. I'm not staying up to describe that thing. The only interesting thing about it is how it could manage to be boring while being an homage to the fucking Stanford Prison experiments.

And that was the end of a lot of people's hopes for the Wire Mother series. Only one good book out of four isn't a great track record, you know? A lot of readers were willing to put Hounds' Toll down as a one-off.

Then, in November of 2014, the preview for Book Five, The Wire Mother: Quantum Claws came out. It was three chapters long. And people lost their shit.

First of all, it was good. Maybe as good as Hounds' Toll. Maybe better.

But more than that, it was a break from the relatively grounded, safe, company standard dystopia of the series. Because this bad boy was going to be about time travel. Tithonus, in his evil plans to live forever, had built a time machine and activated it just at the right moment when the plucky heroes were about to kill him once and for all.

Which seems like something that would be a train wreck, right? If this author can't handle the easy-to-please tropes of prison breaks and romance, what business does she have trying to handle a time travel story without completely fucking up the series?

And maybe that would have been true. But the first three chapters were insanely promising. They were refreshing, original- they got time travel. We were able to get characters like Stellarose and Jane-Mary and Turpentine back after the story cast them aside so soon. And it promised to really examine what Leo Groves meant for the book's world. So, hopes rose again.

Unfortunately, we'll never know if it would have been good or bad. The fifth book was never published. We don't know why. It was just promised, for months and months, and then. Poof. The updates stopped. It was gone.

And it haunts me. If you haven't stopped reading by now, you can probably tell that. The fandom was like a fraction of the size of the Divergent fandom, and I don't know anyone IRL who's read these things. I don't even know if I can or should recommend them.

But sometimes something doesn't have to be a literary masterpiece to burrow into your brain and not let go, I guess ASJSJS

[evansbby]

Some of my inspirations behind Wicked Games 4🩷🩷 *SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT*

The foreboding winds on the night of the gala

Okay so those who know me know that my favourite book series is flowers in the attic. If you read just an excerpt of this series and observed how Virginia Andrews writes, you’d be able to recognise just how much my writing is inspired by hers. It’s bc sometimes her writing makes me emotional, and I can picture things so vividly. ANYWAYS, one of the big themes in flowers in the attic is how the heroine Cathy kept hearing the loud, wild winds. She was imprisoned in an attic in a mansion up in the mountains, and mountain winds are insanely loud, like roaring level of loud. And she’d always talk about how the winds were trying to warn her about something. So…yeah. That part was very very inspired from flowers in the attic 😅 Like how she described the winds, it just stuck with me.

And it really just builds up the tension of the gala night perfectly and encapsulates the sense of foreboding perfectly too AND WORDS CANNOT EXPLAIN how happy I was when so many of you noticed the wind descriptions in your feedback!!! Some of you even called it your favourite part!!! I love that 🥹🥹 Thank you! Also it really goes to show that READING is the best way to get good at writing. I would be nowhere if I hadn’t read all the books that I did in my childhood! I cannot stress it enough: reading really impacts the way you write your own stuff. Anyways, I added a quote from FITA below. I couldn’t find any wind ones (despite the fact that she mentions in ALL FOUR BOOKS the foreboding whistling winds) but yeah, can y’all see how her writing has inspired my writing?? I really think it has.

Steve’s personal problems

A lot of it was inspired by… well… me. BUT JUST HEAR ME OUT. The parts where Steve talks about having too many responsibilities, how all of it just piles up inside his head and it feels like his thoughts are screaming. I get that! Not to such an extreme extent as Steve, but I am someone who panics easily when I have too much on my plate. And it’s like I can physically feel my thoughts racing (it just sounds like me screaming lol) so that’s where I got inspiration for that! Obviously it was exaggerated to fit Steve’s much bigger problems (I’ve never had absentee parents or a younger sibling who I solely worry about all the time nor have I been kicked off the basketball team nor am I an alcoholic). But yeah! That’s how I knew how to write that overwhelmed feeling that he was feeling.

The chapter title “comfortably numb”

Okay so MAJOR SPOILERS for the tv show the sopranos ahead. Basically the song “comfortably numb” plays during a scene where something not so great happens to the character of Christopher. iykyk. And I found the character of Christopher very interesting. He was by all accounts a shitty person. But he was so sensitive, and he was dealing with a lot, and he’d try to escape it by doing drugs, essentially “numbing” himself to the pain. So the title does refer to Steve, who’s problems are piling up so high on his head and he KNOWS he’s fucked everything up for himself, so he just gives up and numbs himself with drugs and alcohol. I’m sure this was pretty self explanatory and didn’t need an explanation but yeah!

Wanda’s drunken tirade 😂

Okay so the part where Wanda only selectively hears what Curtis is saying and latches on to “reader slept with Curtis” and ignoring everything else?? I SAW THIS HAPPEN IN REAL TIME WITH TWO OF MY FRIENDS!!! Basically we were at a party, and we were young af like 16-17. And both my friends were drunk (I’m not friends with either of them anymore but this was in like 2016 bahah) anyways one friend thought the other friend had kissed the guy she liked, the other friend said she didn’t but the first friend was only selectively listening. AND I SWEAR I HAVE SEEN THIS HAPPEN A LOT. Like when someone is so drunk they just selectively listen or just believe what they want to believe. So yeah that’s how I got the inspiration for that. And for a lot of these, I don’t even think what’s inspired me. I write it down and then read it over and I’m like “wait this actually happened to me IRL that must be where I’m getting these ideas from” 😭😂😂😂

Reader’s emerald dress and the gala

Okay this one I didn’t even realise was sooo flowers in the attic inspired until I read it over. So basically Cathy’s mother Corrine wears this gorgeous emerald gown to her family’s Christmas ball. And many years later when Cathy plans revenge on her mother, she remembers this emerald gown from memory and has it remade so she can wear it and confront her mother at the Christmas ball. I remember reading long descriptions of that gown. But tbh I didn’t really remember what that gown looked like or any of the details, just the colour was significant to me. Bc the gala was going to be a night of many confirmations too. The description of reader’s emerald dress all came from my head haha. Like the ruching and the slit etc. I tried to find a dress on Pinterest that matched my vision but none of them lived up to the image I have in my head that’s my own creation LMFAOOO

Andddd my mind is blanking now but if I remember any more inspirations I’ll add them here!!!

[avatarmerida]

Alliance

A short thing I found in my drafts that I forget about. I wrote it when I was overthinking the huntlow pinkie hold. It consumes me to this day. 💚💛

—-

When the scouts ran drills, none of them ever wanted to team up with Hunter. It was quite the opposite, in fact. You’d think that they’d be fighting over the honor of having the head of the coven and the Emperor’s nephew on their team, but no. Rather, they’d jump at the chance to gang up on him and Hunter couldn’t help but feel like they enjoyed getting to exclude him.

But he worked better alone, anyway. It made him work harder.

“All right team, line up!” announced Willow. “Gus is gonna rig up some illusions to test our reflexes! Let’s see if we can sniff out the real Gus and snatch some flags!”

The Entrails cheered in agreement as they ran to take their places on the field. Willow smiled at their excitement and followed suit, setting up beside Hunter who had managed to sneak away for a few hours to help run drills.

“Hey Hunter! Wanna be my partner?”

“Y-your partner?” he repeated, confused.

“Yeah!” she said with a mischievous smile. “You take the left, I take the right. If we work together, I bet we can do it in record time.”

“But we don’t... have to work together,” he said, in case she had forgotten her own instructions. “You don’t have to work with me.”

“I know I don’t have to,” she chuckled. “I want to, if you want to. You’re good at strategy; it’ll be fun.”

“Oh, yeah sure.” He said, warming up to the fact that she was serious. “I’d... like that.”

“Awesome!” Willow said with a bright smile, extending her pinky out to him. “Alliance?”

He looked at her gesture with confusion and the raised his hand to mirror hers and touched his pinky to hers. “Alliance.” He confirmed. Willow tugged his pinky, completing the promise as Gus and his illusions took to the skies and beckoned the team to come after him.

He was new, that’s why she picked him.

——

Amity took game night very seriously. The only person who took it more seriously was Hunter. Before they could begin any game, they each had to have the instructions memorized. Every dice roll, every moment, every turn has to be by the book. They prided themselves in knowing every technicality which only fueled their competitive nature even more.

“Go back four spaces and take three additional cards, Hunter!” Amity ordered, taking far too much delight in delivering the blow.

“No! I was so close to the jackpot space!” Hunter exclaimed in utter dismay as he took his punishment cards from the deck on the table.

“Amity please!” Gus groaned in desperation. “We were so close to being done! Why??”

“Because if anyone’s gonna be the champ it’s gonna be me!” She declared, furiously shaking the dice to power up her revenge roll.

“What’s up Gus? I thought you liked silly human board games.” Lus said.

“I do! But these two and their love of rules make it so hard to cheat!” Gus sighed. “Deception is half the fun.”

“Don’t worry Gus, Hunter is still the closest the victory circle,” assured Willow. “When we’re done we can go watch the clothes spin around in the dryer, that usually makes you feel better.”

“But I don’t have enough tokens to make it past the trick space!” Hunter said in a panic.

“Where did you guys even find this game?” Luz said under her breath, looking at the box.

“Hey, I’ve got plenty,” said Willow, putting the plastic coins in a pile. “You can use some of mine!”

“Oh no Willow, I couldn’t,” Hunter insisted, knowing she had worked hard for her collection. “You earned those.”

“We can share them,” she said with a shrug, having worked hard to earn them mostly to aggravate Amity. “We can work together.”

“Really? Uh, hold on lemme check the rule book I know know if it says that’s allowed...”

“Well, it doesn’t say it’s noooot,” she pointed out playfully, gathering her pieces and scooting closer to him to combine their loot. “Alliance?” She asked, sticking out her pinky. Her face donned a devious smile as Amity waited in suspense for Hunter to confirm or deny, certain their team up would dismantle everything she worked for.

“Alliance.” Hunter confirmed, grabbing her pinky with his own and furrowing his brow in determination, ready to make Amity pay for playing as the piece he wanted to play as.

She wanted to end the game, that’s why she picked him.

—-

“… and then there’s supposed to be punch there too! It’s like all the flavors mixed together, so it’s looks kinda gross but trust me it’s actually really good!” Vee continued to happily explain as the group walked down the sidewalk to her friend’s house. They had all been invited to a party and Vee and Luz were trying to cram as much information about human realm parties to their friends as possible before they arrived. For the most part, they were all excited. They had been working hard and could use a break, and of course Gus had brought his notebook to take down as much as he could. But Willow couldn’t help but notice how quiet Hunter was as he dragged his feet beside her.

“You okay, Hunter?” Willow whispered and he flinched, as though he had been so zoned out he forget where he was. “You look… sick?”

“Sick?”

“I mean, you still look really nice,” she said quickly, knowing how much time he had spent making the jean jacket he was wearing. He looked more than just nice, if she was being honest, but she had a feeling that wasn’t what was plaguing his mind. “But you look nervous.”

“I mean… maybe I am, a little,” he admitted, hoping the others couldn’t hear. “I’ve just… never been to a party before, let alone a human one. I-I don’t know what I’m supposed to say or when I’m supposed to say something or if there’s a certain place I’m supposed to sit or-.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” she assured him with a gentle giggle. “I’ve never really been to a party before either.”

“You? Really?” He practically gasped. “But you’d be so fun at parties!”

“Aw, thanks,” she blushed, subconsciously adjusting her hair clip. “But yeah, I’ve never been to a party that wasn’t a birthday party, and even then it was only me and Gus. But this sounds like it’ll be fun.”

“Really? It sounds terrifying to me,” Hunter gulped, feeling like her was turning paler.

“Well, I’m really glad you’re going,” she said sweetly, knowing he hardly had a choice in the matter. He had just gotten on better terms with Vee and turning down an invitation didn’t seem like a good way to keep that positive momentum going. His heart leapt at Willow’s words, though he was sure it was just her being nice. He hardly expected to see much of her after they arrived.

He was sure the moment they walked in, everyone would be drawn to Willow. How could they not be? She was kind, funny, charismatic and not that he noticed but she looked absolutely stunning in the green sweater she had just bought, the way it made her eyes pop even in the dim moonlight. She was interesting and fun, they’d probably form a line for the chance to talk to her. He assumed he would gravitate to a spot in the shadows, maybe see if there were any books to read. Luz had mentioned that parties where the perfect time to impress someone and while Hunter pretended not to know what she was implying, he couldn’t imagine him being impressive in this type of social setting.

“I’m actually a little nervous too,” Willow said softly and Hunter looked at her in surprise once again. “I mean, I don’t know anyone there.”

“Well, you know me,” he said simply.

“That’s true,” she smiled, glancing up at him illuminated by the streetlights. “Um, would you wanna… hang out at the party?”

“Me? A-are you sure?” Hunter said, clearing his throat. She had plenty of other options.

“Yeah,” she said. “If it’s boring or awkward we can at least talk to each other. I like talking to you.”

“Oh… I like talking to you too,” he said, stopping at the edge of the driveway as the others walked in the front door. Vee greeted her friends with open arms and proceed to introduce Luz, diving into their story about being distant cousins or something. He sighed, his chest felt tight all of a sudden imaging all the people in the house. “I just…”

Willow sensed his discomfort.

“Hey, no worries,” she said. “How about if one us wants to leave early, we walk home together?”

“Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not,” she said. “We can always think of an excuse to leave. I’d rather be walking with you than at a party without you.”

“Oh.”

“And Luz mentioned there might be games and we’ve always been a great team at games,” she smiled. She did not bring up one game Luz had mentioned in particular, mostly as a joke, where two people spend seven minutes together. She didn’t necessary plan on participating, but if she did she’d want Hunter as her partner. “Or if someone talks to one of us and we don’t know what to say we can help each other out.”

“I’d really like that,” Hunter said with a sigh of relief, his hands fidgeting at his sides. Willow smiled, happy to see he was okay with her idea. She brought up her pinkie and offered it to him with a bright smile.

“Alliance?”

He looked at her, still confused as to how she was so content to spend the whole night with him. But he couldn’t say it wasn’t an ideal situation for him.

“Alliance.” He said, linking his pinkie to hers. But this time instead of releasing it after they sealed the promise, she brought their hands down to their sides and used it to lead him inside. He knew everyone who saw them would assume they were together but he did not remove himself from her grasp.

She didn’t want to talk to strangers, that’s what she did it.

She didn’t want to get lost, that’s what she did it.

She knew he would hide in a dark corner without her, that’s why she did it.

She was was worried he’d say something dumb and blow their cover, that’s why she did it.

Hunter’s mind flooded with excuses for why she did not drop his hand and stood so close to him without hesitation. Because he couldn’t fathom the reason for their alliance was because she wanted him on her side because she just wanted to be with him. She could pick anyone, but she kept picking him.

[extasiswings]

As someone who never watched bones, the bones blueprint???

What is the Bones blueprint? WELL, LET ME TELL YOU. So Bones is the show with one of, if not THE hetero slow burn ship of classic Fox procedural shows in the mid-2000s-early 2010s. (Pretty much every main network had at least one major procedural slow burn at a time. Fox had X-files, then Bones. ABC had Castle. CBS had NCIS and The Mentalist…you get it). So, let me set the stage with our characters:

Seeley Booth, played by David Boreanaz. Booth is an FBI Agent and former Army Ranger (with a Bronze Star and a Purple Heart and a certain amount of PTSD that he doesn’t like to discuss). Catholic. Complicated relationship with his family. More than a little repressed. Definitely needs therapy (and gets it eventually—at first when he’s required to go, and voluntarily in later seasons). Good at and devoted to his job. Single Dad who feels like he missed out on a lot of the early years of his son’s life and worries about being a good father (he asked his ex to marry him when she got pregnant, but she turned him down even though she loved him—at least early on in the series even though they aren’t together it’s discussed that they have a tendency to fall into bed not infrequently) [I swear I’m not making this up]. Anyway, you get the picture.

And behind Curtain No. 2, we have:

Temperance Brennan (Bones), played by Emily Deschanel. Brennan is a forensic anthropologist. Super smart, super scientific, doesn’t have great social skills, but definitely has the whole “perceived as cold but actually feels things very deeply” thing going on. Tragic backstory. She’s also a novelist.

So! Booth and Brennan. They work together, they’re partners, they solve murders. And, naturally, they have the whole opposites thing that works for them—she’s very book smart, he’s very street smart, she believes in facts and science and logic, he believes in intuition and gut feelings and faith, etc. etc. As is often the case with the aesthetic of the crime procedural slowburn ship, they start out sort of reluctantly working together, but eventually develop a real partnership built on trust and friendship (and love!).

Early on, she has some things in her past with her family that she asks for his help investigating so that she can get answers. There’s also a time in the second season where Brennan gets kidnapped by a serial killer and buried alive while Booth is stuck trying to find her, which in addition to still being just An Episode(™) remains one of the great, classic, early-in-the-slowburn “I almost lost you and it made me feel Some Kinda Way, but no no we’re just friends really, nothing to see here” defining arcs, especially since Brennan starts dating someone not too long after. The same serial killer returns in season four and snatches Booth that time, and then it’s Brennan’s turn to find him (with the help of Booth’s younger brother). Anyway, classic slow burn—there’s a lot of Implication that you could read into if you wanted throughout the first several seasons, but not necessarily super concrete (although they get caught under the mistletoe once), and there are several rounds of saving each other in various ways as over the years they just become closer and closer until they’re Partners(™) in every way (even when they’re dating other people).

What’s making me yell and scream today though, is: the S4 finale and S5. In the S4 finale, Booth is in a coma after having brain surgery. He has a wild coma dream where he and Brennan are married and they run a nightclub, but there still ends up being a murder—ANYWAY, irl Brennan basically spends the whole time he’s in a coma at his bedside, but then he wakes up and he has no memory of who she is. Pivot to S5, Booth remembers her again, and also feels like he might have romantic feelings for her, but (in part because of some third party commentary) questions whether they’re real or just a side-effect of the surgery. He sort of tells her anyway, but flubs it massively. Later in the season, we get Booth’s son being concerned that his dad doesn’t have a girlfriend, both Booth and Brennan separately getting relationship advice from third parties, and Brennan getting asked out by a new guy. And then! The 100th episode.

The 100th episode, which reveals the start of the series wasn’t their first case, they worked together once before and kissed and almost slept together, but hadn’t ended up going all the way. And after they’re done telling their story, Booth finally stops and kisses her and gets to give his big damn love confession, lays it all on the line, tells her he’s always known she was the one and wants to really try…and she freaks out and cries and turns him down, and he accepts it but says he has to move on. And then they both date other people before fully running away from each other for many months (Brennan on an anthropological dig, Booth back to Afghanistan for the military). (And then, when they come back, she’s ready to put on her big girl pants and give it a shot, except that he went and got a girlfriend who he seems happy with so we all get to suffer through a season of angst and pining while he proposes to someone who isn’t Brennan etc while everyone else is like “you’re still in love with her though” but they do sleep together by the end of S6 and ultimately get married and have two more kids (not in that order)).

So, yeah—the blueprint! Making me especially crazy because here we are with Buddie on a Fox procedural, 4 seasons since they really started trying it seems to make Buddie something potentially real, and Buck is heading into a coma where he's about to hallucinate another life, and the 100th episode is coming up near the beginning of next season (and I really hope Fox learned from Bones that there's such a thing as dragging out the slow burn too much and just lets them be happy after the big damn feelings reveal but XD).

[junietuesday]

NOT EXPECTING THAT BUT SURE ILL REQ A ZELDA FIC

Can a req fic where link does something stupid(cause it’s link) getting himself hurt and the rest of the champions + Zelda just worrying about him

Im a huge sucker for there dynamic and who better to bring them together than the danger king himself, link

vote glenn close and receive a drabble!!

Link still hasn’t woken up.

Daruk doesn’t know what to do. Mipha had to be dragged out of the room, after an entire day spent pouring her Grace into him without rest. Zelda’s been alternately pacing furiously in front of Link’s door and devouring every medical book in the library, as if her knowing more about his injuries will magically make them disappear. Revali hasn’t even shown his face—instead, once he’d watched them safely transport Link into this healing pool in Zora’s Domain, he fled to who-knows-where. Urbosa has been trying to comfort the kids alongside Daruk, but he can tell how frightened she is that Link won’t pull through.

(Link will be fine. Daruk has to believe it.)

It’s evening, now, after another long day of the Zora healers trying any and every possible remedy. Link’s body seems like it should be fine. The bloody wounds from Calamity Ganon’s Sheikah-tech blades are gone. The burns from Guardian lasers were erased by Mipha’s magic. Even that horrible slash across Link’s chest from Dark Beast Ganon’s horn has sealed over. But Link still isn’t waking up.

“I just don’t understand why my Grace won’t save him,” Mipha tells Daruk helplessly. He insisted they go outside for some fresh air, but from their crystal table overlooking her statue, she keeps glancing back inside toward the infirmary anyway. “When…when I was dead, or in stasis or—anyway, I could bring him back from the brink of death.”

“And it knocked you out for hours,” Daruk reminds her. “Plus, you didn’t have to take care of your own physical body while you were at it. It’s not… You can’t…” Daruk wishes he were more eloquent. Urbosa always seems to know exactly what to say. “Link wouldn’t want you to tear yourself to pieces for his sake.”

“I know…” Mipha murmurs.

A click of heels against luminous stone, just slightly sharper than the sound of Zora claws. Daruk recognizes those footsteps; he turns—

Not just a pair of heels. Talons, too. Urbosa walks up to them with Revali in tow.

“Found him,” Urbosa says. She sits down at the table. “Honestly, Revali, you didn’t have to choose a hiding spot up so many flights of stairs.”

Daruk can tell she’s playing up her exhaustion for humor—but her real exhaustion isn’t from the stairs. Revali must be able to tell too, by the way his eyes dart guiltily over her face. But all he retorts is, “I wasn’t hiding.”

He crosses his wings. Doesn’t sit down. Daruk and Urbosa glance sideways at each other. Mipha rests her chin in her hand, staring listlessly down at the table.

“He’s so stupid,” Revali says suddenly. “He didn’t have to just…”

He cuts off again just as abruptly. He drops down onto the seat next to Daruk, shoulders hunched. Normally, between the six—or, right now, only four—of them, they could keep a conversation going for hours. Now the quiet stretches on, unbearable. For a little guy who never talked, Daruk thinks humorlessly, in his absence Link seems to have infected them all with his same silence.

But that’s not even true anymore. One hundred years ago, after Link pulled the sword, he’d gone from a happy, playful, silly little kid to a stoic, silent statue. Daruk’s best efforts weren’t enough to crack that stony mask. It took death and resurrection for Link to finally escape that pressure, to find joy and humor again, and Daruk will be damned if Link loses his second chance. If they all lose their second chance to—

Daruk is startled from his darkening thoughts by a shout from the direction of the library. Then Zelda is rushing outside, waving a book in her hand.  

“Everyone!” she yells, skidding up to their table. “I found it! It’s like some kind of Malice infection! I’d never imagined my light powers would matter when its purpose is to destroy, but apparently if I’m very very careful I can—oh, the point is I can fix this!”

Daruk stands, and crushes her in an embrace. Mipha joins in an instant, and then Urbosa, and after only a slight hesitation, even Revali. Right now, there’s one person missing—but finally, Daruk is certain they’ll be able to make it up to Link soon.

[extralively]

Sooooo, I just caught up to your latest chapter upload 😭 And umm.... I think my heart just grew 10 sizes 🥹.

Dear heavens above, please keep the Gojo-Wakatsuki-Fushiguro family safe. 🙏 I mean, they've been giving family vibes since Book 1, but this latest chapter is a whole other level.

Yura being fiercely protective of Tsumiki (like a real mom), Megumi being supportive and watching over Tsumiki, Tsumiki being concerned for everybody in spite of her condition and her need for recovery, and Satoru being such a provider and an absolute pillar of resilience, doing his best to hold it all together and even bring the four of them back to his own apartment. Like, okay Dad.

And Tsumiki is a sorcerer now! UAHDKGHASDGK

How do I properly compute this information..? Canon-divergence go BRRRRR~ Let's gooooo 🔥🔥🔥.

Also Yura the Curse Breaker is one hell of a title. 🔥🔥🔥

(I am wondering if Tsumiki turning into a sorcerer is because of Yura, or if it's just an aftereffect of Yura dismantling Tsumiki's curse. 👀 Strongly speculating that Tsumiki has Yorozu's curse technique, but I'll be here waiting patiently for whatever you have planned for 'Miki as the story progresses.. I'm so happy she's alive and well istg 🥹😭)

Side note: There's the rare and occasional story where Tsumiki is present alongside Gojo's love interest and Megumi, and I feel so bad for Tsumiki most of the time, because imagine being a normal human in a "family" full of sorcerers. I don't care how loving that family is portrayed to be, it still has to be an isolating experience. Being the odd one out always sucks, but I guess that depends on the person anyways. Some actually revel in being the odd one out... (👀 looking at you, Suguru, and your biological family of non-sorcerers).

And and and... the way Satoru and Yura both notice that there's something different about the way they look at each other throughout this chapter and just can't find the name for it actually kills me (in the best way). 🥹😭

Also her stuff in his closet? HADJSGKG Might as well live together at this point. 😭

These two have been falling deeper and deeper in love as this story progresses and they're hopelessly oblivious, and I know they're getting it together (in baby steps). 💘 It sends an arrow straight through my heart every time. The payoff when they realize it and acknowledge it themselves is going to be sooooo....

...She’d missed this. She’d missed him. Yura didn’t think twice before turning around in his arms, her whole body then sagging into him as pure relief washed over her .....she did push herself closer... and finally, she actually felt at home.

Home is where they're all together as a family... 🏡

Also, home = Satoru... Yura, you're so in love with him, how can you willfully brush it under the rug every time?

he held her close—unwilling to let go. (He’d stayed up a while after she had gone to sleep, just enjoying the way she felt back in his arms, before his own exhaustion took over and he too passed out.) --- Satoru turned his head, his gaze meeting hers. He hated seeing her eyes filled with worry again, and this time it was worry over him. He wanted to make it go away, he wanted to see her eyes lighting up with joy instead of this; he wished one of his abilities were snapping his fingers and making everything right again, but there was only so much that even the strongest could accomplish. So he only turned his body to her, pressing his face against her shoulder. Yura seemed surprised for a moment, but one of her hands eventually slid up his neck, slipping into his hair. Don’t worry about me, he wanted to say. His hands came up to her waist, lightly gripping at her shirt. Don’t worry about me or I’ll worry about you. —he’d lost Suguru, but he hadn’t lost her

"I hope I never lose you, hope it never ends~" 🎶🎧

There's something so sweet and tender and wonderful about being emotionally vulnerable and intimate with someone on this level in spite of the shit storm surrounding you.

Someone play this song on repeat for them until they realize it all, please. I'm begging~ 😭🙏 YOU'RE IN LOVE... They're so in love. 😩😭

One night he wakes Strange look on his face Pauses, then says You're my best friend And you knew what it was He is in love

Satoruuuuu, the signs~ the signs, I'm telling youuuu~ 😭😩

Your fic's an emotional rollercoaster, and I don't ever want to leave. 😁 I can't thank you enough for writing it and sharing it... always~

This message was an emotional rollercoaster, and I appreciated every bit of it ༼ಢ_ಢ༽

Satoru and Yura are so in love that their subconscious have already 100% accepted it, even if they won't actually put it into words. Like they've already accepted that they're a little family, and Yura's brain has already cemented that THESE ARE MY KIDS ILL KILL WHOEVER TRIES TO HURT THEM

(that's also me looking @ canon)

And yes, Yura has a whole section of her stuff in Satoru's closet now, just like Satoru has a drawer full of his stuff at her place too ehehe. Actually, they've got a bunch of each other's stuff scattered around their apartments, they're like halfway living together now--clothes, shoes, toothbrushes, other bathroom products... I mean, if someone were to just walk into Yura's place it would be painfully obvious that she has a boyfriend lol (Satoru's place is big so you'd have to go to his bedroom, but then yep, there's a woman living there too)

Tsumiki is one of them now! I wasn't actually planning for it initially lol but then it just made sense. Now I'm having to plan for more of her presence in later events, but that should be fun hehe. I'll just say that I'm planning stuff, but anything else would spoilers (◡‿◡✿)

But yeah, she was the odd one out in their little family (and any fics that actually bother to include her lmao). I think she might not have felt it so strongly growing up since Megumi wasn't a full-blow sorcerer at that point, but I think she'd eventually feel a little left out whenever she couldn't be included in jujutsu business. But not anymore tho!! ಠ⌣ಠ

Anyway, things are going to get a little bit better for them now (before it gets worse oop), so get ready for some fluffy but emotional moments in the next couple of chapters or so! And as always, thank you so much for reading and commenting like this <333 It truly is what keeps me writing, being able to share it with you guys <333 Thank you so much!

(...also there's a new School Stories oneshot incoming, beware ಠ‿ಠ)

EDIT: also lemme jam to that song while writing the next fluffy moment between them ᕕ(⌐■_■)ᕗ ♪♬

[fearowkenya]

Cold-blooded, ruthlessly efficient, and cruel in its methods. These are words that can be applied to an alligator, sizing up its target as it lurks beneath the surface and waits for the perfect opportunity to drag it into the depths. The same words can equally apply to Shuuji’s father, who never stops watching his every move, judging Shuuji for missteps he doesn’t even know he’s making as he tries to live up to unclear and impossible expectations.

Stressed, scared senseless, and operating entirely on adrenaline. These are words that can be applied to somebody attempting to escape from an alligator, desperate for a shred of hope. The same words can equally apply to a participant in a game of capture the flag, where one team’s lone survivor fights for their life in hopes that a singular small success will turn the tides.

Shuuji gets a weird text at the worst possible time. Ryo risks his neck for the sake of the team. There’s alligators.

yeah im not posting the entire fic under the readmore , im not prepared to spend another two hours of trial-and-error on formatting. anyway i have so much to say about digisurvive but im unfortunately not the type to talk about stuff unprompted until im much more confident n comfortable. instead i'll talk about the First Ficwriting Experience Since 2016

ive seen all four endings but i havent done what im calling my Victory Lap playthrough yet. what i mean by Victory Lap is that i got my guys at lvl 80+ and the only real purpose of going thru it all again is to see any early-game missed dialogue and take unnecessarily-meticulous character notes

im not about to claim to be a Blorbo Expert w a PhD or anything but i think ive got a pretty solid understanding of the bulk of the characters and can manage a pretty accurate portrayal . shuuji and ryo are definitely the easiest characters for me to write , and im anticipating that the same will be true for kaito. i cant say for certain tho since i havent explored his voice much yet but im more or less confident that i can do a good job

at first i was like oh god oh fuck i cant write aoi but i thought about it for 2 seconds and it turns out that uhhhhhhhh i was a lot like her when i was a teenager. the insecurities are exactly the same, it is so horrifyingly uncanny. so for me, saki is the one that i find the most difficult to characterize and i love that because it seems so deliberate. this girl DOES NOT want you to perceive her and is doing her best to ensure that you do not notice that she has anything to hide. if you are good at writing saki, i have a lot of respect for your tremendous power

but thankfully sakis presence in this is minimal so i dont have to worry about that just yet. what i AM worried about are my formatting choices. i think theres a lot of potential in fucking around with indentation, typeface, and text placement, so im taking a swing at trying to push it further than i have before. i think it can serve so well to imply when something is happening, what else is happening at the same time, and how it makes the characters feel without having to outright say so. i dont want it looking like a geronimo stilton book tho so i gotta learn to strike a balance lmao

SO much of the way i enjoy character portrayal comes from tone and nonverbal communication, especially really subtle stuff like eye movement and body language. i think it can be so challenging to write that stuff in a way that doesn't feel clunky or encumber the pacing. the thing im practicing right now is saying stuff without saying it, and also trying to improve my imagery & symbolic language. im having a lot of fun with it

mkay im actually late for work so i need to post this damn thing and move on my with my day. thanks for your time!!

[longlostreader]

Billy Hargrove- I hate you pt. 5

You were trying so hard to focus on the project but your mind wouldn’t stop racing. I fucking kissed Billy Hargrove. I hate him, but I kissed him. That was the best kiss of my life, of course it was its Billy. He’s had plenty of practice. “Princess you listening to me?” “Huh what? I’m sorry I’m just a little distracted.” You look back up at Billy to see that sly smile on his face. He moved your books out of the way and leaned closer. “ and what exactly has you so distracted Princess?” You didn’t break eye contact as you started moving back into him unable to form words. God he was just so so beautiful. You know you really shouldn’t be doing this but kissing him just felt so perfect. You close your eyes and feel his lips lightly brush against yours- “(Y/N)! Pizza’s here come eat.” Another perfectly timed interruption mom. You leaned back again highly disappointed. Billy grabbed your hand. “Don’t worry babe, we’ll finish up later.” He winked at you before standing up and heading downstairs. Babe. Babe?! You were used to pet names from him but this one was new. Why did it have to sound so good falling from his lips. You followed after him to find him leaning over the kitchen counter talking with your mom. “I really appreciate you letting me stay for dinner Mrs.(L/n) I’m starving.” “Oh of course Billy, anytime. Your parents are okay with it right?” “Oh yeah they’re not usually home until really late anyways. It’s usually just me and my step sister but she’s at a friends house.” “I’m sorry to hear that, you really are welcome anytime. Maybe next time you can bring your sister and I’ll cook a real meal.” “I’d like that a lot. Thank you.” You watched from the doorway. Billy was already working that magic charm on your mom. Was he really left alone with his little sister all the time? You couldn’t imagine going all day without seeing your parents. Sure they worked but you still spent a lot of time together when they got home. It must get pretty lonely for him. You grabbed a plate and a slice of pizza and sat down at the table. Billy sat right next to you. Just as you took your first bite the front door swung open. Your dad walked through the door with flowers in his hand. This wasn’t unusual. He’d always stop by a shop after work to pick up a bouquet for you and your mom. “Hello my beautiful girls.” He greeted your mom with a long kiss and hug, slightly swaying her around. Your parents were very in love. It’s the love you hope and pray you’ll find one day. You look over at Billy and he has a confused look on his face. Just as you’re about to ask him if he’s okay your dad finally realizes there’s another person at the table. Your dad straightened up. “Well who might this young man be?” You tried not to laugh at the tough guy act your dad was putting on. “Uh Billy Hargrove sir. I’m (Y/n)’s English partner.” “English partner huh. I remember having a few English partners over after school. Knocked one of them up you know. So what exactly are your intentions with my daughter Mr. Hargrove.” Billys face turned bright red. “I-uh I just…” Your dad burst out in laughter. “I’m just messing with you, don’t worry. It’s great to meet you son.” Your dad leaned over the table to shake Billys hand. You could hear a small sigh of relief come from Billy. “It’s really great to meet you too sir.” Your dad looked back over to you. “Oh honey I almost forgot. Here are your flowers.” He kissed the top of your head and handed you the beautiful arrangement of sunflowers and roses. “Thank you dad, they’re beautiful.” 

The four of you spent the next hour talking and laughing and simply enjoying each others company. Billy fit right in. You were actually learning quite a bit about him. This was definitely a side of him you didn’t know existed. Your parents said goodnight to you both and headed upstairs to bed. You grabbed your plate to put in the sink and tried grabbing Billy’s but he beat you to it. “I’ll help you.” He said quietly. You just gave him a small smile and walked to the sink. He cleared the rest of the table for you. “Thank you, you really don’t have to Billy.” “I don’t mind. Here you wash, I’ll dry.” The two of you stood in silence not really knowing what else to say. As you finished and glanced at the clock you knew Billy had to go. For some reason you felt kinda sad knowing he was leaving. He gathered his books and you walked him out to the front porch. “So what time do you usually get to school?” He asked. “Um about 7:30. Why?” “I’ll be here at 7:15 tomorrow to pick you up.” “What? Why?” “Because I want to. Is that okay?” “I mean, yeah. 7:15 is good.” He smiled. A real smile not the obnoxious little smirk he usually does. It wasn’t flirty. It was a genuine smile, and it was the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen in your life. “Come here.” He said quietly as he pulled you towards him. He pressed his hand on the back of your neck and kissed you. Not rough or needy like before. This was soft and sweet and it made your heart flutter. “See you tomorrow Princess.” With that he turned around and climbed in his Camaro. You touched your fingertips softly against your lips trying to savor that sweet feeling. What is happening. You should hate him, but as you watch him speed down the street you realize all you want is his lips on yours for the rest of your life.

[flownintothesun]

⋆ ✰ ⋆ ───    𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐀 :  𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝟑𝐚𝐦. / 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧

                  ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦����𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬. ( @ycllowhaired )

         𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐌 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐍𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄. Marin watches how they’re dragged in, screaming and swearing that they’re not crazy. Given the right cocktail of medication — they all become a little bit of the same brand of patient, though. Or, well, most of them do. A couple months to settle into it and board games with missing pieces and the same three channels running the same three reruns on the telly don’t seem so bad. Sometimes, they get books, and sometimes there aren’t missing pages. The medication helps her sleep. Usually. Sometimes the intrusive thoughts and the twenty four years of consistent trauma override their best efforts though, and they lead to nights like this — a too-thin blanket and a musty old bed and the sound of the rain pitter-pattering on the window. It’s too cloudy to stare at the stars tonight.

      Marin isn’t ‘most people’ — she’d admitted herself after she ran away, figuring that it’s safer in here than anywhere out there. It’s the last place he’d think to look for her, anyway. She hears them talking about how hard it is to get released — but that’s a worry for another day. She’s not looking to get out now. Isn’t sure what she’d do in a world that extends beyond a room or a compound — whether it’s the one she grew up in, or a hospital like this. The world isn’t scary, it’s just big. And she’s missed so much in her confinement.

      She’d refused to tell them her surname — but to be fair, she doesn’t know it herself. Doesn’t even know if her real first name is Marin, only that it’s what she’s been going by for all of these years. They’d been happy to slap a diagnosis of Schizoid personality disorder and Borderline personality disorder both on her — unable to figure out whether she has an excess of emotions or not enough. The truth is that she just has her secrets, and her trauma, and that they’re no one else’s business. She talks when she wants to, and doesn’t when she doesn’t. These people can’t hurt her more than she’s already been hurt. She welcomes the quiet of solitary as much as she does the limited laughter of the other patients.

      Giving up on the stars for the night, she turns over in her bed as it groans. “Sometimes I just wish on airplanes instead,” her voice is still steeped with a Russian accent. They’d threatened to deport her — but given that they can’t find out who she is, they can’t find out where she’s from. She’s no help there, either. She’s not ready to figure out if someone’s been looking for her for all of her life. “London’s too bright. It’s hard to see the stars, even when it’s not raining.“ It’s the one thing she’d liked about the long trips to Russia when it was so cold she could see her breath — a bounty of stars overhead. “What’s the matter? Are you cold?”

[nicsnort]

The Bookworm and the Beast [part 32]

A dark Scarecrow/Fem!OC romance fanfic

Intro [with Ao3 link] First Previous

One week. Only one week until his plan came to fruition. Jonathan watched Isabel as she cooked dinner. She was making macaroni and cheese from scratch. He couldn't remember having a real home-cooked meal before Isabel. His Grandmother had always made him prepare his meals or simply gave him boxed meals. Isabel's cooking was divine in comparison Jonathan had no idea how he would go back to the simple meals he made. Of course, if he had his way he wouldn't have to. Isabel had been rather distant the past few days though, ever since she had talked to Elizabeth. Jonathan was a tad worried that Elizabeth had said something to her to ruin the relationship he had with Isabel. No. That was ridiculous. The connection between them was far stronger than could be easily destroyed by Elizabeth.

"How much would you like," Isabel asked taking the pot off the stove.

"A bowlful, if you will," Jonathan replied. She doled out their portions and set the bowl in front of him. "Thank you, Pet."

Isabel sat down in her chair, and they both began to eat. "This tastes wonderful."

"I'm glad you like it, I usually don't make mac and cheese from scratch, so I am glad it worked out."

"Isabel, I was wondering, you've been rather quiet the past few days, is something wrong?"

"No, I've just been thinking a lot about things recently."

"Pray tell what kinds of things. Perhaps I can help."

Isabel gave a small sigh. "I don't think so. It was something that Elizabeth asked me. I've been trying to find an answer for days. Introspection has never been a strong point for me, I may be able to analyze a book for its meaning, but I've never had to point it at myself. So you see you cannot help me as this is truly something I must figure out myself."

"Well, I am often told by those fools at Arkham that talking to someone, voicing your problems and thoughts, helps you sort through them better. I have never needed to try despite their prodding. Perhaps…"

"Well…" An adorable blush crossed her cheeks. "I believe that only works if the person you are talking to is unbiased, most certainly not so closely related to what one is pondering."

"I see. If there is anything I can do to help then, please feel free to come to me."

"I will…Jonathan I was wondering…your plan will take place soon right? Well, I was wondering…when…how…"

"You are wondering when I will let you go?"

"Yes," Isabel said with a small sigh. "You see I want to know how long I have to figure this out."

Jonathan ran a hand through his hair. "Would you like to me to turn you over to your father, let you loose in Gotham, or return you home?"

"I…I do not believe it would be best if I saw my father so soon. Would you be kind enough to return me home?"

"Yes, Pet, if that is what you desire…four days then, I will take you home in four days."

"Thank you, Jonathan." She didn't say anything else but began eating again. Jonathan watched her eat, a strange emptiness in the pit of his stomach. He had lost his appetite. The food turned to ash in his mouth but he ate anyway he wouldn't let Isabel know anything was wrong. When they both had finished Isabel washed the dishes and Jonathan dried them. Then they sat on the couch together. Isabel picked up her book and began to read but Jonathan simply sat there contemplating.

"Isabel," he asked after a few minutes. "Would you like to watch a movie?"

"A movie?" She asked with a look of surprise. "I haven't seen a movie in ages, I would love to."

"Alright," Jonathan said standing, "There is an old theatre not too far from here, if we leave now we can still catch the show."

Isabel smiled and joined him. They left quickly and with Jonathan's car reached the theatre with time to spare. When they entered the theatre was dressed up for Halloween with fake bats, pumpkins, and cobwebs. There was an old man in the ticket booth who smiled at them broadly as they approached.

"Good evening," the man said in his best impression of Bela Lugosi.

"Good evening," Jonathan replied curtly, "two for tonight's show."

"Excellent, that will be twelve dollars then, would you like refreshments you need to buy those here as well and give the girl your ticket over there."

"Isabel?"

"Maybe just something to drink?"

"Alright. Two small sodas and why not a small popcorn as well, just in case."

"Excellent, that will be twenty-four dollars then." Jonathan raised an eyebrow at the exorbitant cost of snacks but handed over the money anyway.

"You and your wife have fun now," he said as he gave them the tickets. Jonathan watched, amused as a violent blush rose in Isabel's cheeks. Over at the snack bar, they both ordered rootbeer. Snacks in hand Jonathan led Isabel into the theatre. It was mostly empty and the few people that were inside had taken the prime seats in the middle forcing them to take the seats in the back row near the projector wall.

"I never asked," Isabel said as they sat down. "What movie are we seeing?"

"Frankly I have no idea either. I do know it will be a horror or thriller though. It is Halloween season after all."

"Oh, I hope it isn't too gory. I have never liked those types."

"Movies that rely on gore to thrill and shock have not an inkling of true terror."

"Perhaps you should make a movie then and teach them all a lesson."

"Or," Jonathan said popping some of the popcorn into his mouth, "I could just go to Hollywood, find them, and show them the meaning of fear."

Isabel reached over and took a few kernels of popcorn. "But even if they know fear it doesn't mean they know how to make others afraid. That takes true talent, do you not think?"

Jonathan smiled. "Of course, you are right, Pet."

The lights of the theater dimmed, and a voice came out of the speakers. "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to tonight's show. Before we begin, I ask you to silence all cellphones and electronic devices…thank you. Now the Monarch Theatre proudly presents the American remake of the Japanese classic "The Grudge"."

The projector flickered to life and Jonathan could hear the whirring of the machine above their heads. There were a few paid advertisements for local Gotham businesses before the movie started. As it began Isabel leaned against him to take some more popcorn but when she had the treat in her hand she did not sit back up properly, continuing to lean against him gently instead. Isabel was close enough that he could feel every little jump and shiver. Partway through the movie, she pressed her face into the crux of his shoulder. Unthinkingly he wrapped his arm around her. After a while she looked back at the screen, Jonathan went to remove his arm, but her hand reached over to touch his thigh, and he let it be. By the end of the movie, Jonathan's other hand had wrapped itself around Isabel's. The lights came on as the credits started to roll, yet they did not move. Finally, only when the room was clear apart from them did they break apart.

"Ready, Isabel," he asked, standing.

"Yes, this was lovely, Jonathan, thank you."

"Naturally Pet. It was quite enjoyable for me as well. I am glad this movie was not without merit. The Japanese know their horror well enough."

"It was rather effective, at least for me."

"I noticed…shall we?"

"Yes." They left side by side. Once they were outside in the dark of the night, Isabel paused.

"Is something wrong?" Jonathan asked facing her.

"I'm sorry, I guess the movie is still affecting me. It felt like I was being watched from the dark."

"Not to worry," Jonathan said taking her hand. "I am here."

They continued, Isabel's and his fingers entwined. Her sweet scent drifted up to him when she held onto his arm pressing close. As they reached the car, Isabel stopped again.

"Wait, Jonathan, before we return. Before we must go back to being captor and hostage I want to thank you for everything you have done for me. For helping me work through the trauma of what those men did. I know some will say that it is your fault that it happened to me in the first place. If I hadn't been taken by you, then none of it would have happened. But you didn't need to help me. You didn't need to give me something to do, to give me books to read. You could have left me locked up in that small room for all these weeks. I know some people will call me mad, but…" Isabel went up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."

"Isabel," Jonathan breathed, but he was silenced by her placing a finger on his lips.

"No, don't say anything please." Jonathan nodded and captured her hand in his. He pressed a kiss against her fingertips. He watched entranced as color bloomed on her cheeks, her lips parted, and her eyes glazed over. No, her eyes weren't glazed over they were staring at him pleadingly. It was not a plea for mercy like he was used to but something else, something that was drawing him in. His free hand ran up her neck trailing along her jaw to cup her cheek. Closer and closer…

"Hey! Look at the old farts! Get a room, losers! No wants to see ya' makin' out!" Jonathan and Isabel both stiffened. They parted, and Jonathan looked venomously at the offending party of punk boys dressed as wannabe gang members.

"Jonathan," Isabel said warningly, touching him on the arm.

"Do not worry, pet. These boys are not worth the trouble. Shall we depart then and leave them to their miserable lives?"

Isabel unsuccessfully held back a smile. "Yes, let's."

Jonathan opened her door, and getting in on the other side, they drove off, leaving the punks behind.

~~~~~

Isabel rested her head against her book. She really hadn't been reading but thinking. There was one day left before Jonathan would return her home, and she still hadn't answered the burning questions of who she wanted to be. Jonathan had been so sweet to her these past few days. Starting with the movie two days ago, then yesterday they had gone for a stroll in the park, and today he had gone out telling her that he would buy something special for dinner while he was out. He still hadn't returned, and Isabel had spent the past several hours trying to finally come to a conclusion after days and days of thought.

Isabel tossed the book next to her and sighed with frustration. She couldn't turn to Jonathan for help, and there was no one else she could talk to. Over the past few days, she had poured over the fiction and philosophy books that Jonathan had out in the living room, trying to find something to help her and point her down a path. Maybe there was something in Jonathan's office, but she wasn't supposed to go in there. Jonathan probably wouldn't be back for a time yet though…

Standing, Isabel went over to Jonathan's office door. Her heart was fluttering in her chest as she tried the handle. Blessedly it was unlocked. The door swung open, and the room's darkness was ready to swallow her whole. Swallowing, she entered, flicking on the lights. Floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall were covered in books. The last time she was in here, she had never noticed them in the dark. By the foot of the desk against the far wall, Isabel saw the boxes of books from her library. It seemed so long ago that she had sat with "Stephen Irving" in that restaurant discussing her library. Isabel knew that she had been a different person then, even though only two months had passed.

There was something different about the books on the wall near the desk, and Isabel approached in curiosity. They were journals. An entire bookshelf of journals. Isabel picked up one on the bottom shelf as it looked the oldest and flipped it open.

'03/15/93

Grandmother has found and destroyed my other journals. She made me watch as she burned them and then threatened to lock me back in the chapel if she ever found me with another. Therefore I am keeping this one with my science books in the willow tree. She cannot check where she cannot go. It was foolish of me to keep them in my room before.'

Isabel put the journal back. 1993, Jonathan would have been fifteen at that time. She was surprised that Jonathan kept a journal from all those years ago. Isabel would have thought he would want to forget what happened in his childhood. Choosing another closer to the present day, Isabel read again.

'05/23/04

The University has just accepted me as an associate professor. I will be starting in the fall of this year. I am most pleased I can continue my research without pause. If I am lucky—no, if the board is wise enough and not comprised of fools—I shall reach tenure within four years.'

Putting that journal back, Isabel noticed one sitting on the desk, Jonathan's most recent thoughts. Perhaps inside, she would find something that would help her. If she knew his true feelings, then maybe she could sort hers out. Carefully she picked it up and flipped it back a few weeks.

'09/12/14

Isabel and I had the most wonderful conversation today about the role of the gods in ancient Greek plays and whether they were meant to be taken literally or not. Also, I discovered that she shares my fondness for Jazz. She is a very intriguing woman. I am pleased with my choice of plans for her.'

Isabel paused. What did he mean "plans for her"? She skipped ahead several days.

'09/18/14

I allowed Isabel to see her father today. The meeting went better than I had originally thought it would. It ended in a fight between her and Mr. Warren. He seemed to have hurt her; I believe from her reaction, that it was not the first time. I must investigate this further later. To calm her down and continue building trust between us, I allowed Isabel to see where we were going and took her on a city tour. The look in her eyes as she marveled at the city was entrancing. In the end, it was ruined by a piece of trash trying to mug me for drug money. Isabel accidentally inhaled some of my toxin. From her reaction, I believe she has a fear of being touched, though I do not know what may have caused this. I gave her the antidote to calm her down quickly. Her skin was so soft I did not want to let go.'

'09/19/14

I was correct about Isabel's Haphephobia and her father. Mr. Warren wanted Isabel to try and kill me. I will have Wolf make his limp permanent for that. I told Isabel to call me Jonathan from now on. Her skin is still so soft. I wanted to kiss her. It seems I cannot control some of my weak natural urges around her, but I am not the only one affected by this. On the cameras, I saw her touching herself after our interaction. She is so beautiful. Her actions caused my own need, which I begrudgingly relieved. Perhaps like fear, these desires must be faced head-on.'

'09/21/14

I will kill them for what that scum did to her, but first I will torture them, mutilate them, and make them beg for death. I cannot blame her for running. I shocked her with my kiss but with that look on her face, knowing how she had come to understand the truth of my work, I could not resist. My only regret now is that this event could have set back the experiment tremendously.'

Isabel stopped reading. Experiment? Jonathan promised that he wouldn't experiment on her. What did he mean? Was it a part of whatever plan he had for her? She flipped ahead several more days.

'09/26/14

'It has been five days since the incident. Isabel's condition has not improved, leading me to believe she has acute stress disorder. Her symptoms include flashbacks, distressing dreams, severe reactions to physiological cues—often triggering flashbacks—sleep disturbances, and persistent negative cognition. I may be able to provide her with anti-anxiety medication to lessen the symptoms, but any real recovery must come from within her mind. Cognitive and behavioral therapy are possible alternatives; however, she still refuses to discuss anything, making them impossible for now. I will continue monitoring her condition and mental state in the coming days.'

'I have learned the source of a great deal of her distress. She is ashamed that she felt pleasure during the rape. Although she knows it was simply her body reacting to stimulation, she is horrified by the thought.'

Isabel skipped forward again. There had to be something here.

'10/13/14

Isabel is mine. She is my Goddess of Terror. She knows I am helping her. She knows how special she is to me. I will cure her of her confusion. I will prove to her that we belong together. She is perfect. This is more than just a successful experiment. It may have started as trying to invoke Stockholm Syndrome, but now this is more, this is much more. This is—'

Isabel dropped the book. No. No. This…no. She wouldn't accept it. She couldn't accept it.

"Isabel." Isabel whipped around. Jonathan was standing in the doorway. A bouquet of red flowers hung limply in his hand by his waist.

"You…you…you tried to…oh god!"

"No, Isabel, please listen."

"What!? You didn't try to invoke Stockholm Syndrome in me!? Dear god, Dad was right."

The flowers dropped to the floor as Jonathan stepped into the room. "Isabel, let me explain."

"I can't believe I trusted you!" Isabel could feel tears welling up in her eyes. She felt so betrayed.

"Please listen," Jonathan said, standing in front of her. "Yes, it began as an experiment. I wanted to explore Stockholm Syndrome, yes. But I never counted on…" He grabbed the sides of her head and forced her to look at him.

"The books would call it Lima Syndrome when a captor experiences feelings for his hostage and lets them go. I don't want to let you go. I want you to stay with me. I want to keep you safe and protected. My perfect, beautiful Isabel. My world was all harsh lines and cruel hard edges before you came into it with your softness, your innocence. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you."

Isabel didn't know what to say. A single tear fell from her eye, and Jonathan crushed her against his chest in a tight embrace. "I have never been loved, Isabel. I do not know what love is. I have been told time and time again that I cannot love. But calling it love might be the only way to describe my feelings for you. I love you, Isabel."

"Don't say that," Isabel whispered. "Please don't say that."

Jonathan released her body but took her head in his hands once again. "I love you." He pressed his lips against hers. Isabel could feel the passion behind it. Jonathan was pouring every ounce of his feelings into the kiss. When he pulled away, he looked confused.

"Why don't you kiss back? You never kiss back."

"Jonathan, I can't."

"Why not? You kiss me on the cheek. You must feel the connection too. Just tell me what I must do, Isabel."

"Jonathan, I just want to go home."

"Why?" He said, a hint of anger leaking into his voice. "Why would you want to go back to that town!? You must realize that your library has been shut down. The townspeople don't even miss you; they think you ran away because of your failing library."

"It doesn't matter if the library is closed! My mother is there! My home is there! My life is there! I need to go back! You promised! Show me that you can keep your promises!"

"But there is nothing left for you there! Can't you see your future is here, in Gotham?"

"With you?"

"Yes. Stay with me here as my Goddess of Terror. Together we can teach Gotham the meaning of fear. We can help the sheep break away from their flock to enlightenment."

Isabel touched Jonathan's cheek gently. "Don't you see Jonathan? I am not a criminal. What I did to that man made me physically sick, doing it to anyone who has done nothing to me…I think it would destroy me."

Jonathan reached up, covering her hand with his. "Then just stay with me, and I will give you whatever you want."

"Jonathan, whatever feelings I have for you, be they caused by Stockholm Syndrome or if they be true, they are for you. The bookworm, the genius, the professor, the man who dances with me. They are not for the Scarecrow."

"I am the Scarecrow, Isabel."

"And there you see the crux of my problem."

"I don't understand," he said, releasing her hand and stepping back, running his hands through his hair. "You understand why it is I do what I do. You understand my experiments, my therapy. You experienced how effective they are."

"Yes, I understand why you think what you do is necessary. Yes, I went through your therapy, and yes, it helped me. But that does not mean I approve of your kidnapping people, torturing them, having people build machines for you under threats, or of you terrorizing an entire city."

Jonathan reeled back a couple of paces. "They were right," he whispered, "no one could ever love me."

"Jonathan."

"Silence." The word was venom. Jonathan looked at Isabel, and her heart froze. Back were the eyes of the monster, the beast with no hint of the man Isabel had come to care for. "You are just like all the rest. Grandmother, Sherry, Becky, and now you, Isabel. You are just like them. I was a fool to think that you could be otherwise."

"Jonathan."

"I said silence…" Jonathan approached, drawing a syringe out of his coat pocket. Unwisely Isabel backed up against the desk, trying to get away from him. His hand caressed her cheek but there was no kindness in the movement this time. "Look at the fear in your eyes. Becky had the same fear just before I killed her…"

He pressed the tip of the needle to her neck. "Scream Isabel. Your screams are so sweet. Now scream for me. Scream for your hate and fear me."

As the needle pierced her skin, Isabel grunted in pain but did not scream. She tried to speak but the drug was quickly flooding her system, dragging her into darkness. Collapsing into Jonathan's arms, she felt him stroking her hair. With the last strength that she had, she pulled herself up and kissed him on the cheek. Her eyelids struggling to stay open, she saw Jonathan's face enter her hazy vision. Perhaps it was the effect of her unfocused eyes, but she swore that she saw his cruel blue eyes misted over.

________

Next

Masterlist

[variousqueerthings]

💌💥

OHHHH these two made me think about some Stuff!!!!

thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!!!!

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

So I'm writing a due south thing in which both meg and ray are in love with fraser and fraser's very kinky, but doesn't seem to be able to set boundaries -- anyway, meg goes to ray for help because she's a mean dom, but she's worried she'll be too mean and he won't say no when he wants her to actually stop.

So this is near the beginning of meg and fraser's first little attempt...

“You don’t have to be so polite,” she says against his lips, smiling, before she chases a want and bites down. Oh, this feels so different to anything she’s wanted before. No, that’s not right. Not technically – it feels like something she’s always wanted, but not wanted to admit to any man, because men – even men who like being pushed around in the bedroom – would never let her have any real power. But Fraser... Ben… he exhales softly on the bite, no flinch, no complaint, and she tastes blood. She withdraws to survey her handiwork. Fraser runs his tongue over the spot. He doesn’t seem upset or uncomfortable, just dazed. Perhaps a little curious even. It makes her bold enough to go with her next instinct, to place a hand on his cheek and press down with her thumb over the slightly swollen place, just to let the hurt linger a little longer. To her surprise, he parts his lips wider to take it in, eyes fluttering shut when she allows it to slide past his teeth and into the wet hollow of his mouth, in and out, at first shallow, and then deeper and deeper, pressing down on his tongue. Something inside him seems to have coalesced entirely around this single movement, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, his body limp and barely supporting his weight. Well, if he wants down…

💥find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it.

My least kudos'd fics are also funnily enough the last two I wrote -- I think they might also be the fics with the least hits, so they are just sweet rare babies.

Snapshots (getting married in buffalo jump): I'm so into this fic. It's my first Paul Gross contribution (but there will be more) and it's in a fandom that has four fics. so for one, I'm adding to the ecosystem. For two, I think it's got great balance in terms of writing three characters orbiting around one another and keeping them/their emotions all in frame without cluttering the story -- I really enjoyed working within the cracks of the material to create this dynamic, one that very much could be inferred from both the film and the book, but obviously they weren't going to be brave and out-and-out make those leads polyamorous

Thirdly this is probably the most graphic sex I've ever written and I think I did a pretty good job! I write a lot of kinky scenarios, which often include sex, but as a background/embedded part of the kink -- this one is also kinky, but it's very based around a sexual scenario

Last, I really enjoyed writing two femmy doms. Two for the price of one fic!!!

I also think (last last) it's a pretty easy fic to read without knowing the source material, it's got a certain book je ne sais quoi to it once the main stuff has been explained (granted, a very short book of which roughly half is sex)

nowhere fast (streets of fire): another movie barely anyone watched in which I believe I'm the only person who wrote this ship (last I checked) -- it's an f/f that I think does a good job of centering lesbian cultural references and is also great at that fun melancholia-tinged-eroticism that I'm personally super fond of. the ideas in it around loneliness and running away and living moment to moment and prediction that there will be trouble in the future but right now is the only thing that counts anyway and how that applies to queer women in the world they're in...

the characterisation of the two once more builds on a text that offers sparse - but specific - bits of narrative to play with and I really liked taking them in a direction that was about centering them when they were more emotionally on the outside in the source material (and making that - for one of them - part of the meta narrative). The original narrative gave us an obviously butch woman and then just... let her sort of rest like that and do badass things, which was fun (hey you take what you can get) but you wanna scratch that itch and actually explore that butchness some more. I think I did a great job of that

just a beautiful melancholic lesbian homage to a fun movie (which I would also recommend for sheer Coolness factor! young willem dafoe biker gang! music written by the writers for meatloaf and stevie nicks! butch sidekick with a gun who's awesome!)

[mightbelola]

Fake News, It’s True

I can’t write anything so I’ll just tell you what’s happening. I’m standing in the kitchen. Kitchen and TV are in the same room. Our living room is smaller than the size of the classrooms back at school, remember the English room? Yeah, smaller than that. I like it, easy to clean. I’m also writing on my iPad. Joe gave me this very loud keyboard for me to type my boring stories with. My iPad is between the rice cooker and the stove. We’ve got this electric stove, it sucks but it works. I can make eggs with it, the simplest healthiest thing, so it’s fine. It’s not like I know how to cook anyway.

I think it’s about to rain. “I hate it here so I will go to secret garden in my mind,” Taylor Swift said that in her song, it’s playing on the TV. A lot of what she says makes a lot of sense to me, a lot of time. She’s telling different stories, but they always feel the same way. It’s not exactly about what had happened to us that’s relatable. It’s about how we feel.

I feel okay lately. I decided I want to live. It’s not a perfect world down here, but it’s not so bad either.

Has it been two weeks since? I feel a lot normal now, like was I even pregnant? Did I imagine it? Was it only like a dream? Then again, I look around and I see crucial evidence that I didn’t imagine the whole thing. Like, this dress I’m wearing right now, the one I wore when I was at the stadium that day. It was hot and I was pregnant. The people witnessed it. The shortest pregnancy reveal in history ever, it’s like, “Hey guys we’re having a baby!” “Congratulations!” Then, a week later, “Fake news.”

It’s like, what’s that for, you know?

Instead of a baby, we were having twins. Instead of fake news, it’s true. There are no twins.

It’s raining now, and I am so sleepy. I’m still full. I had that egg sandwich I made. Although that was probably four hours ago. I need to lie down. My head is spinning.

Ah, the ceiling. I’m on the couch now, writing on my phone. My head feels funny. I think I worked too hard on the camera. I can’t find the right setting. I need the right setting for the photos to look aesthetically pleasing in my eyes. I’m almost there but yeah, I think I need a little break.

I enjoy this little house. This house is a lot smaller than any other house we lived in. It reminds me of his place back in Mutiara, because of how small it is. It’s also quite pleasing to know that it doesn’t matter whichever room you’re in every night, you can always just lie down, stare at the ceiling and let your mind brings you places.

My mind brings me back to Medalla. I miss my old room there. There’s this tall mirror I had, and it brought out someone new in me. My teenage self wouldn’t believe me if I told her, “You’re a strong confident woman. You’re also pretty. Your teeth are still messed up, but you like it, you’ve always secretly liked it. Your skin will clear up, and you will love those scars on your face that you’re worried about.” That mirror had witnessed so many things, like when I had that nervous breakdown because Joe hadn’t called me back. I needed to know if he had landed in Bali. It felt so long since his flight, so I got a little worried. That same night, I played dress up. My teenage self would love to hear all this. She could only imagine having a room all to herself, put on some cute jeans, shirts, shoes, dresses, nice music. She wouldn’t believe she’d get to have all the things she loved, a cute house, a handsome husband, books and cats. She wouldn’t believe if I told her, she’s there, alone all by herself with a real husband in mind, exactly how she imagined it. She’d read books all day and dance all night.

That was a moment of pure bliss. Not knowing, not having any idea of what’s coming for me in the future. Now I’m here. I look at myself in the mirror every morning before I shower, I’m still me but I am a different person. I will never be the same. I wonder what my teenage self would think if I told her, “Hey, life update. You lost the job you loved, you moved to another country with the man you love, you got pregnant soon after that, you were having twins, but you got really homesick so you left the man you love, went back to your family, that was a stupid idea by the way, had a preterm labor, gave birth, can’t keep the babies, sorry, and here we are, back to like when it’s just us, back in Medalla.”

[j-graysonlibrary]

The Xiang Chronicles: Book Four Chapter 35

Title: The Xiang Chronicles: Book Four

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 118k

Genres: Fantasy, adventure, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website

Synopsis: In order to save the world from the continuous subjugation and potential annihilation at the hands of Tiandi, hard lines must be drawn. The Great Spirits that were imprisoned ages ago must be unsealed and awakened, no matter the consequences.

The players are divided—those who stand blindly with Tiandi, such as Xiang Merra and her disciples versus those who want to tear the system down and give the power back to the people. Even a few of the most religious Lords change their minds when they learn the truth of the world—that Tiandi is no more than a dictator with no love in his heart.

It is up to the last, real Xiang and the ill-fated Chaaya to put everything they have into tearing God from his throne and creating new possibilities for the future.

Full chapter 35 under the cut

Chapter XXXV:

Pangu had not given himself time to think about them out of fear of it distracting him but, seeing them in the moment brought the rush of emotions back to him. His worry, his anxieties, his premature mourning, and the absolute horror at having, possibly, been the cause of their deaths.

He jumped to his feet and ran over, bringing them both into a hug. “I am so glad you are okay!”

“We were fine,” Kira said and patted him on the back, “You were the one attempting to fight the fire lizard on your own, crazy.”

“Yeah, if anyone was worried, it was us,” Baiya seconded with a laugh.

Pangu pulled away, not caring that his tears were flowing. They were probably making pretty definitive streaks on his face, through the dust and smoke. “I watched the tower collapse. I had no idea what happened to you two…”

Kira gave Baiya a quick look but then returned to Pangu. He slapped a hand on his shoulder and smirked. “Like I said, we’re fine.”

Baiya nodded and the relief finally washed over Pangu entirely. His breath hitched and he grabbed his partner by the sides of his face and yanked him into a kiss.

“Well,” Kira said, turning his attention to the women on the ground, “I do have some bad news, unfortunately.”

Pangu parted from Baiya and turned to hear it.

“What?” Loa asked as she rubbed circles along Phay’s back.

“We went to find the lord of Cidney and, well…he’s dead.” Kira leaned against some nearby rubble and crossed his arms over his chest. “He and a handful of his guards were crushed by a collapsed ceiling so…”

“Who will take care of the city?” Loa asked.

“I will,” Phay answered as if it was obvious.

Kira offered, “I can bring over your troops or, at least, some of them. That way you can have a group you trust with you.”

“Well if you are staying here then so am I,” Loa insisted. “Someone has to make sure you do not overexert yourself.

Baiya watched his sister and debated whether he should object to her suggestion or not. She was grown, after all, and she could make her own decisions. Not only that but she was capable of defending herself and she was acting out of more than just self interest. She loved Phay, yes, but she also loved Agni.

His chest ached but it was pride, not worry.

“You will be alright?” he asked anyway.

She stood up and nodded with a smile. “Can I borrow my brother for a moment?” she asked Pangu and he gladly stepped to the side so she could hug him.

Pangu moved closer to Phay and helped her to her feet. “So, what will you do about Phaos? Lord San?”

She sighed and brushed off some soot from her armor. “Probably send an envoy, just to see. I worry Ashoka will have him on her side.”

“Speaking of,” Kira said with a finger raised, “Where did she go?”

“I do not sense her anywhere,” Pangu noted, “She must have fled.”

“Or died.” Phay seemed a little too eager about that being the case.

“Either way, she is no problem for you at the moment.” Pangu gave a weak smile. He did not get the feeling the disciple was dead though she was probably injured from the fall. Whether she came back at all was of no real concern though since she would be in no position to harm Phay.

***

Only Phay went with Kira through the miasma portal so he did not have to spend too much of his energy after the Salamander ordeal. Plus, she was the only one who was really needed on the other side.

Her encampment was far larger than the last time they had been and, even more surprising, it had not been moved. Kira glanced around as the soldiers quickly took note of their presence. He stayed back as Phay was welcomed like a hero and her second-in-command filled her in on everything that had happened in the past few months.

If he was to take even a quarter of the people back through a portal, he would be spent.

Just as Kira started to debate the maximum number he could support, one of the soldiers walked up to him. Or, he assumed they were a soldier until he actually turned his head.

“You?” he remarked with surprise as Ishtar, dressed in light armor with her hair tied back, stood at his side. “I nearly didn’t recognize you in that.”

“It is a different look,” the woman said, setting a hand on her hip. “Took some getting used to.”

Kira arched an eyebrow. “What made you?”

“There is no money in the underground while everyone is focused on whether or not Agni will even exist by the end of the year.” Ishtar made it sound as if her business was solely the thing that mattered but Kira remembered her face when she spoke of Merra’s plans for the country. Perhaps she only cared about Agni so long as it benefited her but there was some pride laced in there too.

“Alright well, speaking of money, you still owe me some for batting Merra’s army back.” Kira smirked.

“I never offered a bonus,” Ishtar countered, “But perhaps I could spot you a few coin. After all, I heard you killed one of the Heavenly Princes. What a terrifying Chaaya you have become,” she spoke with a crooked smile.

Kira snickered. “The worst the land has ever seen.”

Ishtar was among the group that came with them, once Phay was done explaining the situation to her troops. Her second-in-command helped to divide the soldiers accordingly and Kira opened a portal back to Cidney with a hefty breath.

As expected, it nearly depleted him but Pangu was quick to run to his side and offer some of his energy to compensate. Normally, Kira would have pushed him away and told him to keep it but, in that instant, he really needed the help—as much as it pained him to admit.

“Ah, Baiya, I see you two are back together,” Ishtar said, making her way over to their group while Phay reconvened with Loa.

“Who…?” Baiya had to do a double take. “Ishtar?!”

“I was surprised too,” Kira admitted as he removed Pangu’s hands from his. He would take no more than what was absolutely necessary. There was plenty of miasma in Cidney to siphon anyway, he thought and then returned to the topic at hand: Ishtar. “She is a noble Agni soldier now.”

“Do not misrepresent me,” she scoffed before her eyes landed on Pangu. “Oh, the ex-Xiang.”

“…Did we know each other before?” Pangu asked, clearly worried. He wasted no time covering for himself with an explanation, “I lost my memory and not every event or person has fully come back.”

When all three of them laughed, he was further puzzled.

“We did not meet,” Ishtar said, “Though I was promised a meeting with you the last time you were in Cidney…”

“Do not,” Baiya warned while Kira cackled.

“What does it matter now?” he challenged, “Pangu will not be scandalized.”

“I…” Baiya started and then stopped, resorting to a disgruntled huff.

Pangu glanced between them and then set a hand on his lover’s arm. “Does this have anything to do with why you and Kira were gone for so long when we were here?”

“Yes, they killed my men and threatened me,” Ishtar blurted out though she seemed wholly unbothered by their past troubles. In fact, she kept a smug smile on her lips the entire time. “I was looking to cash in on your body parts—nothing personal—but these two got wind of it, arranged a meeting with me, lied about kidnapping you to sell you to me, and then attacked once I arrived. As I said, they killed my men then held me at the point of a blade and told me to leave you alone or else they would kill me next time.”

Pangu’s jaw dropped and he looked up at Baiya who would not make eye contact. “Baiya!” he half scolded and half laughed, “Why did you keep this from me?”

“He did not want you to think badly of him. He was still trying to impress you,” Kira said, “I even wanted to kill Ishtar then and there but Baiya was the one who said no. Because he did not want to dirty his hands more than necessary just in case you did find out.”

“It is a good thing too,” Ishtar cut in, “Not just for the fact I enjoy living but if you had slit my throat then, the two of you would have been lost once Pangu bit the dust.”

“You know, it is strange that you have no questions about his resurrection,” Baiya said, furrowing his brow.

“I have already heard. How it happened, I do not know—nor do I care, really—but the point remains. I gave you both jobs and information so I am sure you are glad you kept me alive. I suppose we should all thank Baiya’s crush on the Xiang.”

Even Pangu laughed, slapping against Baiya’s arm all the while. The Agni disciple could only sigh and hang his head.

Phay and Loa circled back to them, ready to say their final goodbyes. Baiya hugged his sister once more and they left the city in the Agni lord’s capable hands, knowing that they would see her again soon. She was both essential for further planning against Merra and she now had the link to Salamander as well.

Ishtar waved, beside the rest of the Agni soldiers, as they passed through the miasma portal.

Once back in the caves, there was an immediate need for rest—especially for Kira. Pangu kept his arm on him as they landed on the other side of the abyss and he scanned the room for Raine, trying to force his eyes to adjust.

“We are back!” he called out when he did not hear anything for a while.

“Kira!” Raine sounded first as he ran over, “What happened? Where are the women?”

“My sister and Phay stayed behind to plan and organize,” Baiya answered, “Salamander chose Phay.”

“Knew it,” May announced with a snicker before the wind left her sails, “Aw, wait, so no more girl time.”

“You still have me,” Chandes chimed in.

“What happened?” Raine’s voice went quiet, asking only the returning group. He pulled Kira into his arms, offering his body for him to lean against.

“Kira brought over Phay’s army to Cidney…” Pangu sighed. “It took a lot out of him.”

He had drawn in a lot of miasma to compensate for his lack of energy. If he was anyone other than Kira, Pangu would have been terrified he would die of miasma poisoning by the end of the night. Yet, even though he knew he was stronger than most in that regard, he still struggled to see him in such a state.

“…s’ fine,” Kira argued with a grumble.

“Get him to bed,” Baiya told Raine and the first disciple nodded.

They retreated down the tunnels and Baiya and Pangu were left to answer all the questions. It was kept brief since it was becoming, more and more, clear that Baiya was exhausted as well.

When the two returned to their room, they finally met with Kaz and Viren.

“Oh, we did not hear you come in,” Kaz said, a look of concern and slight frustration on his face. He was sitting next to Viren who was laid back, resting with his eyes closed. It was obvious he was not asleep only by the way his brow moved in response to the talking and commotion.

“Still feeling drained?” Baiya asked and joined them on the bed. He, too, was ready to sleep so he settled next to Viren.

“Mmm…yes.”

Pangu looked at the three of them, especially Viren, and his heart felt as heavy as a boulder. He knew he needed to work on planning their next move but all he really wanted to do was spend time with them.

But there would never be enough time for all he wanted.

Even the next day, as soon as he was out of his room, he was spirited away by Gong and Parvati who said they needed to discuss something with him.

His mind was still on Viren and how sluggish he was but he tried to focus on his old mentor, especially with the overly serious look on his face.

“You did an amazing job on freeing all of the Great Spirits,” he opened with, “but some of us believe it may not be enough still.”

“Me and my sisters,” Parvati elaborated.

And, as though she were summoned, Devi joined them. Pangu expected more but it was just the eldest that showed up.

“Mother has regained some strength and willpower from her children being set free,” Devi said and clasped her hands together, “But if she is to return to how she was before all of this pain and suffering…then…”

Pangu looked between them and noted the somber expression shared between the Mistresses and even Gong. He frowned. “Then what?”

“We are all a part of Shakti, Pangu,” Parvati said and grasped his shoulders. “When she was first wounded by the loss of her children, she felt so alone and despaired that she bled out miasma for a century.”

“And, eventually, some of that miasma responded to her loneliness,” Devi continued and pointed at her own chest, “I came into existence.”

“And, mother lost some of her sense of self and her memories in the process,” Parvati sighed, releasing Pangu before saying, “It was the same with each of us. We were all made when her anguish built up too much and had to be released. She, quite literally, cut out her pain and we are the result. But, along with being the emotions she no longer could handle, we are also her. She cannot return to her old self while we still exist.”

Pangu heard his blood pumping in his ears and he continued to look back and forth between them. “So you…intend to die?”

“We will not kill ourselves in a hurry,” Devi stated with a chuckle, “but, without us, Shakti may still be vulnerable compared to Tiandi. Our sacrifice may be necessary.”

Gong spoke up, “It is not dissimilar with Tiandi.”

“I did hear from Badou that a part of Tiandi was placed into each of you…so…” Pangu paused. “Does that mean, since Zhu is dead, Tiandi is, actually, stronger?”

“Probably.” He nodded. “However, if we want a chance to actually kill Tiandi then he will need to be whole as well.”

Pangu looked down at the floor, almost wanting to laugh just so he did not have to cry. “So you all need to die in the end?”

“We are prepared to return to mother,” Devi mentioned and glanced to Parvati who, in turn, looked to Gong.

“Yes,” she agreed, “And I am sure the idea of being separated from that Tian aspect is rather compelling, even in the face of a second death.”

“It is.” Gong smiled but he could not keep it up. “Pangu, I know you wanted to save us as well but…some sacrifices are necessary to ensure the greatest amount of lives is protected.”

His wording made him think of Kira and Viren. And himself. He also realized that, had he just meditated on it a while longer, Gong could not survive the final fight with his Tian aspect still in place. But the Mistresses, he had hoped, could have been saved…

Pangu exhaled the same time Kira did from the far side of the cave system, tucked away in another room. He had been asked to visit with Shakti and, along with her, there was Kali, Chandes, and Ziyi. Their reason for calling their Chaayas was quite the same as why Pangu had been summoned by Gong for their meeting.

Ziyi looked between the Mistresses and held Browly in his arms despite the dog’s struggles to free himself. “Wait, so you will all be gone?”

“We will return to Shakti and be one,” Kali restated.

“Had this been your plan all along?” Kira asked with a raised eyebrow. If so, he would have liked to have known, even if it would not have changed his approach to things much.

“It was always something they spoke of,” Shakti answered and shifted her gaze between Kali and Chandes.

“Ever since I was born, the rest realized how bad of a mistake it was,” Chandes said and chuckled. “But, seriously, we knew we were taking power and memories from mother we just…couldn’t do anything about it.”

“With the four Great Spirits now free, it seems like there is a real chance at victory over Tiandi,” Kali continued, looking at Kira. “I…I had not ever dreamed a day like this would come. Had you asked me a year ago what I assumed the future for us and Shakti looked like I would have told you that there would be more Mistresses and that we might, eventually, overtake Tiandi by pure force but…”

“Aww, are you getting sentimental, Kali?” Chandes snickered.

The Mistress hissed and swatted at her. “You really are annoying,” she said before returning to face Kira. With a hefty sigh, she mumbled, “I suppose I should thank you or whatever for sticking by Shakti even if you did things in the most convoluted way possible. You still freed the Great Spirits…”

“No need to thank me,” Kira responded with a crooked smile.

Kali’s brows pinched together and her jaw set.  “Just accept the thanks.”

Ziyi, completely ignoring them, continued to stare at Chandes. The Mistress, despite having just said she would no longer be around by the end, seemed as carefree and happy as always. It made him doubt what he had been told.

So he asked for a little clarification. “So, are you going to die or just, sort of, disappear…?”

“Oh, can’t wait to get rid of me?” She challenged with her hands on her hips.

“Obviously,” he replied and set his dog down. Of course, he ran directly up to Chandes and begged for her attention.

She picked him up and held him, rocking him back and forth while his nub of a tail wagged. When he licked her, she laughed. “Well Browly will miss me at least. Won’t you, buddy?”

Ziyi rubbed his knuckle along the corner of his eye, catching a tear before it could fall. “You will be back with Shakti so you will not be entirely gone. I bet you will find a way to reach out and give me nightmares or something. No way you would ever completely leave me in peace.”

[carakoskinen]

Gonna talk about the paintings in EG real quick, cuz I was curious to see if there’s any indication about Cara’s animal (if she does follow the same pattern as the current students):

(It’s under the cut since I have no idea how big the screenshots are gonna be since I’m on desktop. I wasn’t able to find all the painting names either, but I’ll edit this again later if I do find them.)

Potential Candidates for Cara’s Animal (if assumed that there’s no repeats):

Painting: La maja vestida by Francisco Goya -> Known for being a part of a pair, with one in clothes while the other isn’t. Much about this painting is pretty unclear. -> Painted around the frame of 1800-1805

(Damon: The woman’s mask bore the unmistakable nose and “horns” of a giraffe. Definitely not a live one, though) Found in dining hall.

Okay, so I think this one’s the most likely, since there’s a fairly complex pattern on Cara’s sweater, which could mimic that of a giraffe. This is also the only painting that Damon comments on the animal being dead on (since it’s the only one with an animal skull). My sib also pointed out that the eyes are covered on the animal skull, so it could be a reference to Cara’s eyes being bleached. So, I’d say this one’s the most likely to be Cara’s animal.

Painting: The Milkmaid by Johannes Vermeer --> Painted around 1657-1658

(Damon: ...This painting was one I recognised. I’m pretty sure my high school team had to research it for a debate. Whatever we were trying to argue, I scrubbed it from memory. Needed to make room for next debate somehow. One thing’s for sure: the woman in the painting didn’t wear a mask. And the liquid she’s pouring...it definitely wasn’t blood.) Found in dining hall.

Initially, I thought this was a nod to Tozu, but the way the antlers are depicted make it seem more likely this might be an elk/deer. It’s odd though since I think this painting’s the only one with an alteration (changing the liquid to blood) if you don’t count the animal masks. Since this doesn’t seem to apply to the other students, I’d say this one also has a fair shot of being Cara’s animal.

Painting: Lady with an Ermine by Leonardo da Vinci --> Painted around 1489-1491

(Damon: Forget about the mask, what’s that weasel-looking thing?) Found in dining hall.

The shape of the animal mask is too vague to really discern a guess? I was thinking it could be a black fox cuz of its ears while my sib thought it looked more like a wolf, but it could probably be anything really. Anyways, this one’s a complete mystery to me since Damon’s busy focusing on the ermine in her arms, so I’m leaving it up as a potential candidate.

()()()

Paintings I’m Not Too Sure On:

Painting: Jo, The Beautiful Irishwoman by Gustave Courbet --> There are four versions of this painting --> Painted around 1865

(Damon: Talk about the stuff of nightmares... Is she supposed to be a hyena? The ears are really big, though. Maybe it’s a wild dog?) Found in dining hall.

Hyenas are a bit different from coyotes, so I’m not sure if this is supposed to represent Jett’s animal or not? If it is, I’m a little worried about the facial expression it’s making.

Painting: (Can’t find it)

(Damon: Whatever bird this mask is supposed to resemble, it’s a freaky looking one.) Found in the hallway before the dining hall by itself.

Like Damon said, it’s incredibly hard to tell on what bird this is. It could be Eloise (swan) if we had to apply it to someone? But to me, it resembles more of a cartoon penguin, so this could be a previous survivor maybe...?

()()()

Paintings Related to the Cast:

Painting: (Can’t find it)

(Damon: Sheesh. Owls always gave me the creeps.) Found in hallway next to the rabbit and closet.

Most likely linked to Ulysses. The painting itself is rather vague so I’ve had absolutely no luck finding it.

Painting: The Portrait of a Young Man with a Book by Agnolo Bronzino --> Painted around 1540

(Damon: Huh...I’ve seen this painting before. Well, the version without the mask. It was ages ago...during middle school, I think? My class visited a really fancy museum. All this time, I’ve been remembering the man as a jester... He doesn’t even have the right clothes!) Found in hallway next to the owl and closet.

Most likely linked to Grace.

Painting: Lady Hamilton by George Romney --> Painted around 1791

(Damon: A fancy looking woman wearing a crow mask... Not something you see everyday.) Found in the hallway before the dining hall, facing across the lion.

Most likely linked to Eva.

Painting: The Desperate Man by Gustave Courbet --> Painted in 1844-1845

(Damon: This must be edgy modern art or something.) Found in the hallway before the dining hall, facing across the crow.

Most likely linked to Ingrid (because I just noticed the mane).

()()()

Overall, I don’t think the paintings themselves hold much relevance? But anyways:

The first two paintings (with the giraffe and elk) are the only two to have a light blue cloth draped over them. This is especially weird since the original paintings don’t have anything resembling that. However, if you assume that one of them does represent Cara, it’s possible that all deceased students will have their paintings include the cloth and have their masks transform into skulls in the future. (Though, that would mean that the academy will likely have more paintings shown in the future of previous students’ animals, so I’m curious to see if this thought will holds up.)

If Cara does represent either the giraffe or elk, this changes the theory I initially had on the potential victims + culprits for the upcoming chapters, since I was speculating that both the victim and culprit would fall under the Seven Sins in the order of Dante’s Inferno (based on their animal symbolism, especially if you assume Tozu’s the first culprit). Instead, I can now see it being the Seven Sins and Virtues. (This bullet point is just mostly speculation rambles on my part, but I guess Chapter 1 will either support or refute this entirely.)

The painting choices seem a little too specific, so I could see their histories being linked to the characters it’s trying to portray in a sense. However, the lack of info makes it difficult to exactly say what just yet.