#can't re-read this or I will curse myself for the Romance of it all | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

animasola86 · 1 year ago

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A BLESSING AND A CURSE

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!mc Genre: Fluff/Romance/Adventure/eventual Smut Synopsis: Sebastian Sallow is your average teenage boy, wouldn't you say? Well, he is, despite the baggage he carries around with him. And the same teenage boy has laid his eyes on the new student and he is determined to lay even more on her.

Notes: Prequel to A Night in the Undercroft, HL re-write focusing on my Ravenclaw MC Nebbia DeLuca (read her backstory/showcase here), ongoing series

---- -> Read all chapters on AO3 <- ----

I decided not to post every chapter on Tumblr, but as a showcase, here is chapter 4 (5.2k words), when things start getting interesting.

A Proper Hogwarts Welcome

Nebbia looked back at him slowly, her eyes wandering over his face. “So what do I do now?” she then asked with a faint voice.

Sebastian frowned at that, before leaning back and crossing his arms in front of his chest, thinking hard. “I'm sure Professor Fig is already researching about whatever you found in that vault, so you leave that to him. As for you: just be a Hogwarts student, I suppose. That is harrowing enough, you shouldn't have to deal with anything else on top of that. But you're a quick learner and a Ravenclaw, I am absolutely certain that you will have no problem with that.” He gave her a reassuring smile as she raised her eyebrows at that. “And about Ranrok and Rookwood. Well, you heard Sirona, you should be careful, probably shouldn't walk about alone outside of Hogwarts.”

She sighed deeply and lowered her gaze, staring at her hands in her lap. “Sounds so easy when you say that,” she whispered.

“It is. Focus on one thing at a time and it'll be fine. And if you struggle with anything, which I doubt, but let's say you do at one point, please, do not hesitate to call on me. You might have bested me in a duel, but I can still be of some assistance to you, I'm sure.”

Nebbia blushed under the smile he gave her and he smiled even wider noticing it. His eyes wandered over her face, taking in every single detail, from her small, slightly pointy nose, to the finely arched eyebrows and the scar running through one of them to her long lashes and those deep green eyes that sparkled in the light of the fire crackling behind him. When he looked at her lips, it was his turn to feel a little bit warmer. He probably shouldn't stare at her mouth this intently, but he couldn't help himself.

He was too curious. About how her lips would feel on his.

Said lips were moving then and he noticed her teeth behind them and that little sliver of tongue peeking through. Unconsciously or not, he felt himself licking his own – until he flinched badly and almost bit down on his tongue as he felt her kicking him under the table.

“Ow! What was that for?”

She stared at him, grinning darkly. “You keep looking at me until you zone out! I hate talking to myself here, okay?”

“What? Oh,” he made and quickly rubbed the back of his neck as he looked away eventually. “I'm sorry. I...” He looked back at her, ready to tell her the truth, but perhaps it was a little too much? Too forward? She watched him curiously, apparently not too angry about him staring at her like that. “You are quite distracting, you know that?” he then admitted, tilting his head, a smirk creeping onto his face.

Her eyes went wide at the comment and she blushed even more. It took her only a few seconds to change that expression into one of indignation. “Hang on! That's how I was able to best you in that duel, wasn't it? Because you were... distracted?”

He raised his eyebrows, impressed by her quick observation, before he barked a loud laugh. “Well, what can I say...”

“I didn't win because I was better, I won because you can't control your bloody hormones!” she went on, despite the accusing tone with a smile on her face. “I can't believe it!”

Sebastian watched her with amusement, his cheeks hurting from smiling so much. “Look at it this way, you fought with everything you had, your body included, and you won fair and square, details don't matter!”

She shook her head and chuckled. “I want a rematch!” she then demanded and leaned back, crossing her arms in front of her chest like him.

“Right now?” he challenged her and leaned forwards a little, his eyes boring into hers.

“If you're up for it! Though I bet I'll just beat you again, with how distracted you already are by me right now...” she teased and poked her tongue out at him.

He laughed and couldn't help but lower his eyes to her mouth once more. Then he saw her put a hand in front of her lips and he looked back into her eyes with a smirk.

“Can you stop for one second?” she laughed from behind her fingers. “It's getting ridiculous!”

He chuckled and leaned back, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I apologize. I shouldn't be so forward, you are right. That's not very gentleman-like of me, I agree.”

She snorted at that and shook her head. “I honestly never saw you as a gentleman,” she commented and tilted her head as it was her turn to look him over.

“Not? My, now I am quite offended!” he said with a mock-frown. “Did I not just protect you from an evil wizard and did I not just offer you my assistance? Oh and remember how I selflessly agreed to accompany you to Hogsmeade?”

Her smile faltered slightly at that as she assessed his words. “Do gentlemen do these things? I never actually met one, you know,” she said and grinned. “I mean, look at you. With your messy hair and those unruly eyebrows and how you wear your shirt rolled up to your elbows and the state of your tie... is that gentleman-like?”

“That's body-shaming, my dear,” he said and raised an eyebrow, then thought about his eyebrows and if they were really that unruly. “And it was a hot day, alright? And I just fought a bloody troll!” he added and threw his hands up. “Also, being a gentleman is not about looks, it's about deeds. Treating the fairer sex with respect and admiration and proper care –”

She watched him with growing amusement and it only made him become more flustered. “You're right, my turn to apologize. I am sorry, I forgot about the troll, to be honest...”

He scoffed and gave her a playful glare. “Is that all you can say to that?”

She leaned closer, propped on her elbows as she looked at him with a soft smile. “I do appreciate all you have done for me thus far, I honestly do.”

“Why do I hear a but?” he replied, arching his eyebrow.

“You hear a butt?”

“A but!” he repeated, furrowing his forehead. “Like in 'you're nice, but...'”

“Your nice butt?” She had way too much fun with this, the way she was snickering.

He glared at her, stunned by her wit. Yet when he recovered rather quickly after all, he shot her a smirk. “So you think I have a nice butt?”

Her turn to be stunned apparently. She cleared her throat and looked away, definitely thinking about his butt now. He laughed loudly, as she started to defend herself. “Listen, I... I mean, even if, how was I not supposed to notice that? You kept walking in front of me and you are so much taller and my eyes like to rest on a certain height and...”

“Tell me more,” he teased and leaned onto the table, his chin on his hand as he watched her closely.

She blushed and pursed her lips. “Hey, I was giving you a compliment! Not about your butt, that was just a stupid play on words. Earlier. I really appreciate your help, I do. No buts or the like. And I would definitely come back to it, should I need it. I would be stupid not to.” She inhaled deeply and leaned back in her chair, frowning slightly as he kept grinning at her despite her genuine words.

“So, do you like my butt or not?” he asked, winking at her.

“Sebastian!” Her blush grew deeper.

He only laughed as she tried to kick him again. For a short moment, as he was wrapped up by joy and playful banter, definitely enjoying the company of this new girl, he felt a sharp pain in his heart as his sister's tortured face made an appearance in the back of his mind. For a moment his smile faltered, tainted by the sudden re-emergence of her dire situation and the guilt he felt for being happy when she was not. He cleared his throat to hide it and looked away then, inhaling sharply.

Nebbia shouldn't have picked up on that, but she did. Yet she didn't mention anything, she just looked at him, a sliver of concern behind her smiling eyes.

“Would you like another Butterbeer?” he then asked, quickly falling back into his smug demeanour. “I feel we were robbed of our first ones.”

She nodded, almost a little shyly now. “Sounds good.”

“Then let me be the gentleman and get us some, alright?” he offered and threw her a wink, before he stood up. Her eyes followed his movement and she nodded again. He looked at her for a moment, then he turned away and walked back to the counter, ordering two more Butterbeers from Sirona. The task gave him time to regain his composure as he focused on not spilling the large tankards when he eventually returned to their table in the far back.

Nebbia's hands reached out and helped him as she grabbed one of the tankards and put it down carefully. He sat back down, raising his Butterbeer in front of him, and declared: “To a day full of surprises!”

She arched an eyebrow at that.

“Or... to new friends?” he suggested with a laden smile.

She smiled back and took the large mug with both hands and gently pushed it against his. “To new friends.”

They drank in silence, both looking at each other over the edge of their Butterbeers. He watched her closely. She seemed to enjoy the drink as much as her first one, her eyes big and excited as she slurped away happily, more foam gathering on her upper lip. He focused on her happiness and slowly pushed the darkness back into the depth of his mind.

“This is not really... beer, is it?” she then asked, licking the foam off her lip – and he had to really force himself not to stare once more.

“Not the traditional kind, no, but there is some alcohol in it,” he told her, taking another sip of his own drink.

“There is?” she squeaked, either in surprise or terror.

He laughed softly. “Tiny amounts. Barely noticeable when you're a human, but I have heard of cases in which house elves got really knackered on Butterbeer. And even though you may be short, you are not a house elf, so don't worry,” he concluded and smirked at her.

When she lifted up her foot to kick him once again under the table, he quickly leaned down and grabbed her ankle, holding her leg as he stared at her with a wicked grin. She blushed deeply and her mouth fell open slightly as she tried to get her leg back, but he held it tightly between his fingers, squeezing softly.

“Did you want to say anything?” he teased.

“Stop calling me short,” she whispered, inhaling sharply when he slipped his other hand under the table to slide it up her shin to her knee.

“Only when you grow a few inches,” he whispered back, his hand now moving around her knee until he teased his fingers right against the back, giving her one quick tickle before she shrieked and squirmed, almost spilling her Butterbeer as she kicked against the table.

“Stop!” she hissed and slapped his hand away, her entire face flushed as she stared at him breathlessly.

He leaned back in his chair, releasing her leg before he put his hands back around his tankard.

“What happened to being a gentleman?” she muttered, focusing back on her own drink.

“You said I wasn't one, so why should we keep pretending?” he countered with a smirk, taking a big sip of Butterbeer.

Now it was her turn to surprise him as she suddenly leaned over the table, extended a finger and brashly wiped her finger over his upper lip, picking up the foam that had gathered there. He stared at her with wide eyes as she leaned back and licked the foam off her finger, her green eyes boring into his as she did so.

He was absolutely stunned, feeling his own cheeks warming up badly.

Of course she noticed his reaction and leaned back with a satisfied smirk, giving her lips another swirl of her tongue. Everything inside of him was fighting against the urge to jump over the table and press his mouth against hers, tasting that sweet little tongue right there and then. Instead he breathed loudly through his nose as he pressed his lips together, slowly shaking his head.

“What? We've established that you're not a gentleman, so I don't have to be a lady either!” she said with a chuckle. “Which I'm not, believe me. Far from it.”

“Is that how you got your scar?” Sebastian then asked, watching her closely.

She frowned at the sudden change of topic and mindlessly fingered the line running across her right eye. There was no more playfulness in her face, even her blush went down rapidly.

“I'm sorry,” he said quickly, furrowing his forehead. “I didn't mean to pry.” He continued watching her, before he leaned closer. “Look, I got one too,” he said and pointed his index finger at the little white line right beneath the left corner of his lips. “From a fight with my sister,” he told her, trying to coax more information out of her.

“You have a sister?” she then asked, going a different direction than he had hoped.

“Yes, Anne, she's my twin,” he replied, forcing himself to stay neutral about it.

“Is she in Hogwarts too?”

“She was... she's not well at the moment,” he said quietly, his heart beating a little bit faster. “But... she'll be better soon and back at Hogwarts in no time!” he told her, trying to convince himself as well. He had tried to sound hopeful, as cheery as possible, but again she seemed to pick up on the little dark undertone of his voice.

“I'm sorry about your sister,” she whispered across the table.

He looked away at that and raised his tankard to drink the last remnants of Butterbeer in one big gulp. Once he was done, he wiped his mouth and set it down with a loud sigh.

“Well, what do you say we get another one?” he asked, smirking at her, falling back into the habit of pretending that everything was fine. A game he had become pretty good at recently.

She watched him solemnly and shook her head. “I think we should head back to the castle. I bet it's already late...”

He frowned at her and after a quick glance at his pocket watch, he sighed deeply. “I suppose you're right...” He looked up at her. “Can't have you breaking curfew on your first day, eh?”

Nebbia chuckled at that. “That's for my second day, you say?” she replied with a small wink. It was either the wink or the tone of her voice or the gleam in her eyes, but something told him that he should keep this girl close. She was too precious to let go, too perfect.

When they left The Three Broomsticks later, he led her to the nearest Floo Flame. After her initial wariness of stepping out onto the dark streets of Hogsmeade as her mind went back to Victor Rookwood's threat, she was now staring at the green flame and Ignatia Wildsmith's stony face.

“Okay, hang on just a second. You mean to tell me we could have used the Floo Flame network to get from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade instead of walking?” Her eyes wandered to his face, wide and almost furious. “Why did we walk?”

He chuckled. “To see all the fine landmarks, of course! Come on, it was a nice little exercise, you'll certainly need it if you want to traverse the castle without breaking down every other step. Remember, there are 142 staircases in Hogwarts and probably twice as many hallways.”

She glared at him, then looked back at the green flame. “So how does this work?” she then asked, looking directly at the moving face, which looked right back, blinking and frowning at the girl.

“You take a little bit of this,” he told her and pointed at the Floo powder in a bowl beneath the flame. “You state where you want to go, loud and clearly, then you throw the powder into the flame.”

She tilted her head, taking a step back. As curious as her expression was, there was also fear in it, uncertainty. “Perhaps we should just walk...” she whispered.

“Nonsense!” he exclaimed. “Especially not at night, with Rookwood looking for you. Come on, we'll do it together this time, to get you acclimated.” Sebastian held out his hand for her. “Trust me.”

Nebbia stared at his hand, biting her lip, before she extended hers and slowly put it between his long fingers. He quickly grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. With a gasp she looked up at him.

“We're usually not supposed to travel in pairs, but if you stand really close to me, this should work just fine,” he told her and put his free hand on her waist, gently pushing her against his body. He saw her cheeks blushing in the eerie green glow of the flame, her eyes were sparkling with a mixture of excitement and worry. “Hold onto me,” he said quietly.

She gingerly let go of his hand and raised her arms to wrap them around his torso, still looking up at him with wide eyes. He moved his hand to her lower back, slowly pushing her flush against him. Then he reached out his free hand and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. While holding her agitated gaze, he stated “Hogwarts, Bell tower!” and then threw the powder onto the green flame.

With a whoosh and a firm tug to his navel during which he heard her gasp loudly as she clung to him tighter, the green flame engulfed them both and pulled them through time and space until they landed with another whoosh on the intricate stone floor of the Bell tower. At first he was glad they ended up with their feet firmly on the ground, but then she swayed and with her arms still tightly around him, they both tumbled down in a heap of bodies and limbs.

He felt his back hit the hard floor and he arched it to dampen the fall, but when she fell on top of him he groaned and all the air left his lungs. Her hair fell into his face, before she scrambled to put her hands on either side of his head and pushed herself up, looking down at him with her eyes wide and her lips parted. He watched her, his heart racing inside his chest. She could have clambered off of him many times now, but she remained lying on him, her hips pressing against his with her legs tugged between his angled knees, her arms shaking slightly as she held up her torso.

Without thinking as his mind felt fuzzy and full of static, he reached up a hand and pushed her hair behind her ear, a gentle, careful gesture with his thumb grazing over her cheek softly. He noticed the slight tremble of her lips, how her eyes wandered over his face and the warmth settling right beneath where his thumb was drawing lazy circles on her skin. Seconds ticked past, maybe even minutes, with their eyes locked onto the other's in a silent assessment of the situation.

And to his utter surprise it was her who moved first as she lowered her face closer to him, her breath ghosting his lips as she stared into his eyes. And when she mindlessly licked her lips, it was his turn. The hand holding her face pulled her down towards him with a firm tug before their mouths collided with a smack. She gasped against him, yet quickly fell into the rhythm he directed as he closed his lips hungrily around hers. Kissing him back with the same amount of fervour, she leaned down on her elbows, pressing her chest into his as her fingers started digging into his hair.

He heard himself moaning against her mouth, the sound echoing eerily through the dark, empty hall, yet he was too involved to register that they were lying in the middle of the Bell tower entrance, right beneath the wide eyes of Ignatia Wildsmith. His hand gripped the back of her neck as he pushed his face upwards into hers, breathing loudly through his nose as he deepened the kiss by pressing the tip of his tongue against her bottom lip.

She watched him out of half-lidded eyes and didn't hesitate at all when she parted her lips more and pushed her own tongue against his. He inhaled sharply, another groan leaving his throat as the kiss got even messier and more passionate. He pushed her hair out of her face with his free hand and held her head tightly between his fingers, guiding her as their tongues continued their wild wrestle.

Her noises were something between loud breaths and quiet whimpers as she pressed her jaw firmly against his, tilting her head to get even closer to him as she pushed her tongue into his mouth. Her movements seemed just as desperate as his and he felt his heart pounding inside his chest as he still couldn't wrap his head around what was happening. Breathing loudly against each other, he was tempted to roll her around and press his body firmly against hers. Instead he just jerked his hips upwards and to his continued surprise, she replied the motion with a grinding of her own hips.

Another moan escaped him and it was in that exact moment that another sound came to his ears. A cough. A clearing of a throat. The sound that made his blood freeze inside his veins. Their movements halted immediately as they remained glued together by their mouths, lips pressed together, tongues paused in the middle of tasting the other, with their eyes wide as they stared at each other.

Another cough came to his ears and he slowly, reluctantly let go of her head and she leaned back up instantly, her hands firmly planted on either side of his head as she scrambled back to her feet, her face flushed and her lips swollen and trembling. She grabbed his hand and helped him stand up as well and he felt about the same as her, cheeks blushed and lips tingling. Both of them were completely out of breath. His hand remained clutching hers and when he looked around at who had caught them, he felt a laugh vibrating in the back of his throat.

The ghost of the Fat Friar floated above them, watching them with a curious tilt to his neckless head. Nebbia stared up at the ghost in terror, be it because it was her first time seeing one of Hogwarts house ghosts or because they were caught in such a compromising position. Sebastian cleared his throat, wiping over his mouth with the back of his free hand and bowed his head slightly.

“Excuse us, sir,” he told the ghost and with another nod of his head, pulled the girl along who stumbled after him, her eyes still fixed on the translucent form of the monk, who watched them with an amused grin on his happy face.

Once the initial shock died down, he could hear her giggle softly, her free hand pressed to her lips as she quickly walked behind him. He smirked to himself and once they reached a dimly lit corner of the adjacent hallway, he pulled her close to him, before he pushed her right against the wall. She gasped and looked up at him, her hand finding his chest as she tried to catch her breath.

No words were necessary as they looked at each other, the hunger still throbbing through both of their bodies. They threw themselves at each other at the same time, arms wrapping around necks and waists as their mouths collided once more, their heavy breathing filling the empty corridor. His hands moved all around her body, from her back upwards to grip her hair gently, then back down to rest against her lower back, softly teasing the curve of her backside, while her hands grabbed the front of his shirt tightly as she leaned up against him on her toes, lodged between the wall and his body.

He had no idea for how long they were kissing each other like this, with their lips brushing together and their tongues circling around the other and their breaths heavy between them. His head was spinning from exertion and lack of air, yet he didn't want to stop. He had wanted to taste her and feel her ever since he had seen the sliver of skin beneath her skirt this morning. He had felt almost ashamed for having these thoughts about a girl he had barely even known, yet he had never expected that said girl seemed to feel the exact same about him – with the way she was pushing herself against him now.

It was when his hands moved lower, sliding over the curve of her butt to the back of her thighs, slowly pulling her skirt up with nimble fingers that she froze in his embrace, her hands pushing against his chest as she leaned away, breathless and dishevelled as she looked, her eyes wide and her lips trembling. He inhaled sharply and moved his hands back up to her waist, a soft smile on his swollen lips.

She slipped back down to her feet and normal height, tilting her chin up and leaning her head against the wall behind her as she looked at him, curiously, her forehead creased in slight lines as she seemed to digest what had happened. His blood was rushing in his ears loudly and he really couldn't care less about any consequences. Though the longer she just watched him, her chest rising and falling fast as she breathed heavily past shivering lips, the more sense kicked back into his head.

“Well,” he said, his voice hoarse. “That was...”

“Confusing?” she replied, frowning slightly more.

“Overwhelming,” he finished with a smirk. “Overwhelmingly amazing...”

She let out a stifled laugh and looked away, her cheeks as red as her lips. Her hands dropped to her sides and she inhaled deeply. “Sebastian, I...”

Something about her voice made his heart stop. He gently grabbed her chin and made her look up at him. “Was it too much?” he asked quietly, alarmed.

She licked her lips. “No, well, a little, certainly unexpected, in a way, but not –”

“Stop analysing it, please,” he said with a light chuckle. “No need to find the right words.” His thumb slowly caressed her hipbone as he kept holding onto her waist firmly with his other hand, pushing her backside against the wall. “Unless you want me to stop?”

She looked at him, biting her raw lips and wincing slightly as she did so. “Perhaps we... should take a break...”

His hand cupped her face gently, his thumb softly prodding at the corner of her mouth. “Perhaps we should,” he whispered. “I'm sorry...”

“No need to apologize,” she whispered back. “I... wanted this too...” she admitted with her cheeks warming up beneath his touch. He smiled wider at that.

Reluctantly, he took a step back, releasing her body from caging her in with his, even dropping his hands back to his sides. She remained leaning against the wall, watching him curiously.

“So do you welcome all the new girls like this?” she teased with a coy smirk.

He laughed out loud, the sound echoing through the hallway. “Only the pretty ones,” he teased right back, smiling down at her as his hand moved back up to tug a strand of hair behind her ear. She gently grabbed his wrist and leaned against his touch, her eyes boring into his. “And you're the prettiest for sure.”

Her smile was shy, but she didn't look away. They stood like that for another silent moment, the kiss(es) still fresh on his mind as he felt his lips pulsating. In the end it was her again who moved first, taking a step closer to him as she grabbed his free hand. “Can you take me to my common room? I'm afraid I don't know where to go, I've only been there once...”

His heart fluttered and he smirked wider, nodding as he squeezed her hand gently. “Of course,” he said quietly and led her down the hallway. She shot him the occasional side-glance and shy smile, as they walked through the dark, empty castle. He didn't take the shortest route to the Ravenclaw tower, but the safest one, past the prefects and ghosts patrolling the halls until they reached the long spiral staircase leading up.

Nebbia wasn't as breathless as he had expected once they arrived in front of the large doorknocker. As he let go of her hand, she stepped closer and solved the riddle the large golden eagle gave her with ease while his mind was still way too foggy from all the things he had experienced today. The door swung open and she turned back to him, smiling softly.

“Thank you for today, Sebastian,” she whispered and reached her hand out to him.

He quickly grabbed it and walked back to her, pulling her into a slightly too excited hug that caused her to gasp and giggle. “Thank you,” he insisted and kissed the top of her head.

“I'll see you tomorrow?” she asked quietly as she looked up at him.

He nodded eagerly. “I'm sure you will.”

She didn't move for another minute or so, just looking at him, seemingly also wondering if all of this had been real. He gave her waist a light squeeze.

“Good night, Nebbia,” he whispered.

“Good night,” she replied and leaned up to press her lips to his jaw. Then she let go and stepped away, past the threshold into her common room, waving at him as she did so.

Once the door closed behind her, he turned around and walked all the way down to the dungeons, his mind reeling as he kept remembering how soft her lips had felt and how eager she had been to kiss him back, how they had bantered as if they had known each other much, much longer. The more he thought about her, the warmer the feeling inside his stomach became, spreading through his entire body.

And for once, the nagging voices inside his head were silent.

--- -> Read all chapters on AO3 <- ---

[ masterlist ]

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow fluff #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #nebbia deluca #a blessing and a curse

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invinciblerodent · 5 months ago

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Writing Interview Tag Game

Tagged by @ra-scheln – thank you dear! ❤️

When did you start writing?

I feel like there is almost never a set date for anyone- I never really considered myself a writer, I still don't fully embrace it as a label any more than I do many others, but it's very much in that "technically true" vein of things- I don't think of myself as a writer, but I do write, and have been writing most of my life.

The first story I ever consciously remember writing was a lengthy (and objectively terrible) story I wrote around the time I was maybe 11 or thereabouts, though- kind of a fairytale paranormal romance before I would have ever found out what that meant, involving wisecracking frogs, and the three little pigs, and some sort of an ancient curse, and it stretched quite luxuriously across roughly 120 single-spaced pages that -true to form for me- were never posted anywhere.

It was utterly gratuitous, masturbatory, filled with the most horrible purple prose in existence, and I will never stop feeling regretful over losing it to a simple hardware upgrade.

I really wish I could re-read it now, at 30, and maybe get back a little bit of that unapologetic confidence and drive to just write what the fuck ever I feel like writing, without feeling the eyes of an imaginary critic burning holes into the back of my head.

Are there different themes or genres that you enjoy reading than what you write?

While I'm most interested in writing navel-gaze-y, introspective character-pieces and romance/fantasy (romantasy? is that what the kids are calling it now?), I do like to consider myself an omnivore, when it comes to reading.

I generally read a lot of literary- and historical fiction, SF, fantasy, a couple thrillers here and there- though there are topics I don't gravitate towards, I don't exactly discriminate against any genre, and I try to keep a varied diet of pulp- and high-brow literature alike, lol.

Some books I've really loved over these past few years are (hold on, scanning my shelf here) Min Jin Lee's "Pachinko", Ursula K. Le Guin's "The Left Hand of Darkness", Raphael Bob-Waksberg's "Someone Who Will Love You In All Your Damaged Glory", and Iona Grey's "Letters to the Lost". That's an award-winning saga novel, a genre classic, a contemporary collection of short stories, and a very good romance novel, lol.

Although I do admit, reading tends to fall by the wayside in my most active writing periods, which is whenever I get super absorbed in a particular video game, lol.

Can you tell me about your writing space?

I don't actually have a dedicated writing space. Over the past while, I've realized that I most like writing by hand, in coffee shops mainly- which may make me look a touch obnoxious, but it's just the way my brain and hand work the best together. (I handwrite slower than I type, so it's easier to get into that ~~flow~~ state because I have time to think without pausing, and with the background noise being just at the right level, I can babysit an americano for hours at a time.) If I'm writing on the computer, it generally falls more into the realm of editing.

I don't exactly have a preference when it comes to the space itself, but the stationery is crucial. I'm very particular about the pen I use (it has to be a Zebra Superfine H-5000- I've been using them exclusively for like ten years now, and unfortunately you can't really get refills for them, but they're like a dollar each, and they last bloody forever), and slightly less particular about notebooks, but I still have strong preferences there too (lined paper, hard cover, not terribly ugly- which is harder to find than one would think).

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I don't typically try on a conscious level, but sometimes, just that dedicated action of putting my notebook away, and walking to the coffee shop gets the words rolling. Often I find myself starting to tell myself the story on the way, and then I'm kind of playing catch-up with myself, once I actually get there.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing?

Disappointment, mostly. "Wasted" potential, reclamation of personal choice, and the deeply personal act of mourning the self that died so that another may live. What-ifs, maybes, could-have-beens. The things we want to want.

.................. also dicks. Dicks are a big part of it.

What is your reason for writing?

There's no real reason, I think. I thought about this one for a long time, but I can't phrase it any better than prev: the words just have to go somewhere.

Besides, if I'm not writing, I'm crafting. If I'm not crafting, I'm drawing. If I'm not drawing, I'm designing, baking, making something. I'm always making something.

Is there any kind of specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I haven't published much of my writing over the past few years, but from what I've gotten, "It feels like you really know this character" is the comment I keep coming back to in my mind.

I got that one on a silly, smutty fic from like 2016, and it really gave me pause. It really got stuck in my mind.

It's been many years since, and I still catch myself smiling whenever I write a line of dialogue that feels quintessential to a particular character. I found that really encouraging.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I... I'm still kind of unpacking whether I want to be thought about at all. Whether I want to be perceived. You know, the terrifying ordeal of being known, and all that.

I think the way I want to be known is how a pet fish knows its owner, you know? Like I arrive occasionally, at a reliable, if nebulous time, and they kind of have a vague idea of what I am, but mostly I just bring them food, dump it in the water, and disappear while they voraciously consume whatever it was that was dumped in there.

If goldfish were terminally horny and could leave comments but expected no response, they'd be the ideal audience for me.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I want to say maybe... evocative imagery, and dialogue. I like to get somewhat poetic with my descriptions and I feel like I'm rather good at grasping somewhat powerful images through minute details, that's something I know I have a lot of fun writing. I also enjoy the process of trying to find words that feel like they sit right in a certain character's mouth.

If someone were to actually say "he would not fucking say that" to me, I think I would mentally walk into the nearest ocean.

How do you feel about your own writing?

.... Insecure. Apologetic. Fearful, in a way I'm well aware I shouldn't be.

I have tried to blame the fact that English is my second language, and there is a kernel of truth in there, but I know that's... kind of bullshit. I know my linguistic prowess is not exactly the issue here (if I may, bigger idiots than me have done it, I've a darling friend who can absolutely testify), it's literally just the confidence that I lack.

I'm also apologetic in tagging, or promoting my work whenever I do end up posting something, because I know it's not going to have mass appeal, or I know it's not going to be interesting to a lot of people even of the ones following me, and that completely undue, asinine embarrassment is definitely holding me back within my writing as well.

This is why I enjoy handwriting most I think, because that, I know is for me.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

It's purely for myself, and this ties into the previous answer- I know I write my best when it's utterly self-indulgent. But that's also the shit that makes me feel the most naked emotionally, so it's hard to bring myself to want to subject myself to any kind of scrutiny.

This really is the fucking duality of man, to crave validation but hiss and sneer at anything that might invite it, lol.

Anyway, I think if you guys are up for it, I'd like to tag @sketchyelvenasss and @lindira, and of course anyone who feels like it. ❤️

(Please do excuse me for the copious amounts of whining in this post lol, I have realized in myself that once I come closer to filling a new notebook I always get a bit emotional about my stuff, and I've like 10 pages left on my current one. Prime angsting-time.)

#squirrel speaks #or rather #squirrel writes #i took a nap in the middle of this #it was a bad idea; came back SECOND-GUESSING my writing ON A MEME. ABOUT WRITING.#what the cinnamon toast fuck is wrong with me

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jokeringcutio · 2 years ago

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2, 3, 12, 12, 30 from the ask game? ^^ im a curious person asdkfljsdfk

[ Answering to this game ]

Thank you so much for asking :) ♡

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits? Top five are: Reader-Insert (9) Angst (8) Older Man/Younger Woman (8) Age Difference (7) Dubious Consent (6) And well, they do on this account :') . Not quite what I wrote in the past. I have gone from humor and romance to disturbing dark romance fics, I suppose? Though the older man/younger woman age thing has always been my kink, I mean, even in real life.

3. What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

Polite/kind Reader. I know this isn't in any tags, but my standard/basic Reader is quite polite. Doesn't curse as much as I see readers do in other fics, doesn't fight as much as I read in most fics. Might react atypically to what you might expect in certain situations - which is excellent when writing villain/bad guy fics because they will expect the obvious and need to re-adjust their reaction when the reader surprises them. It could just be why the Reader is kept alive and survives. My basic go-to Reader is usually inspired by the thought "now what would I do when I was caught in this situation?" Though, when I am writing for a friend, I will make the character react more like they would. Which is even more fun than imagining myself in such a situation. "I am a worrier, not a warrior." (JokeringCutio ) - and yes, you can quote that with my name attached to it - I worry. A lot. And I try to solve things without fighting but by talking or finding solutions. Unless otherwise requested, I try to come up with reactions for the reader by placing myself in their situation. My basic Reader won't fight as much on instinct, I can't even slap someone if they ask me to (Yes, that has happened). But apart from the reader's depiction, you can find details in fics that derive from this as well. When I imagine myself in situations, important questions arise: where are the toilets? Is there anything I can use when I get my period? But who will feed the hamster? If there's a window, how can it be that no sound escapes the room? Expect things like bathing, using the toilet, menstruation, getting dirty, getting hurt and fearing infection. They are basic human things that I worry about and that I have noticed are quite often glossed over in movies and stories, but that make it all the more grizzly to read. Other details: Look for: A feasible ending. I like my stories to have a happy end, unless otherwise requested. But because I try and imagine how it would be if I were really caught in that situation, that ending might not be "they married and lived happily ever after". I mean, with a villain, murderer, slasher, or mentally ill person, happily ever after might just end a different way. Look for: Girls are better friends. Most of my recent fics have had a female reader involved with a male villain. But if you look closely you will see I often can't help a lesbian crush or relationship added to the mix, even if not open or explicit. 12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you? Reader-Insert. Used to hate them. Now I want nothing more but to write and read them. Hear me out, I like to perfect my reader-insert skills and try to avoid all that irritated me in the past. So I try to avoid mentioning specific things like the length of hair, body shape, skin tone, and background information that could trigger or put a reader off. And yes, in some cases you can get away with it, no problem. It's looking to find that balance. I failed with my multi-chapter Grabber fic. I wanted to avoid mentioning hair on the reader for a specific reader I have seen lurking around the fandom but it slipped in a few times anyway. If you are that reader and read this, please feel free to request a hairless reader fic/hair not mentioned fic. I would love to make it up to you ♡ 30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

Yes. The first smut I wrote was (as a virgin at the time and totally not into the kinks requested) very much out of my comfort zone. But I had to look up a lot and learned a lot new terms. Ahum... I like to challenge myself by stepping out of my comfort zone so, we'll see what the future brings :)

#answered #personal note #ask game

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sthenoaloraquest · 1 month ago

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Books Finished in the Last Couple of Months

⚔️Blood and Steel: "With her death foretold. Althea Zoltaire only has three years to become what she's always dreamed of being: a warrior legend." Loved! Female warrior, Grumpy warrior, time is ticking, found family, enemies to lovers, dual pov, fantasy, romance. The third-person writing style is usually not for me, but I liked it for this story. The author used the style in an intriguing and fun way. The magic system was easy to follow, along with the plot. This is the first book in a completed series, which is perfect. I don't have to wait for the next one 😂. (The second one is harder to get through, but I have heard good things about the third and fourth, so I'm trying to plow through it)

🐉Fear of Flames: "Your dreams are alive, and so are your dragons." I did and didn't like it. By the end of it, I am not sure if I'll continue to the sequel. The dialog in the beginning is good, and then it just becomes awkward and chaotic. I don't feel the connection between fmc and mmc, even in the sexy scenes. The magic system was ok. I was interested in this for the dragons, but that too fell flat. The idea of the story was promising and has some potential, but I don't think it's enough to continue the series.

🔥The Dagger and The Flame: "When the world is at its darkest, we must reach bravely through the shadows to find where the light blooms." Enemies to lovers, dual pov, found family, this one was better as an audiobook. It starts at a snails pace but picks speed in the end. It's definitely a lot of world building to set up other books. I didn't see the plot twist coming. It should have been obvious, but the author did a great job at keeping it hidden. The bonus chapter had me in tears 😭. Will be picking up the sequel when it does come out. I did hear the author originally announced this story about 10 years ago, so fingers crossed the sequel doesn't take that long 🤞🏻.

🕯Lightlark: "Everyone seems to forget that wildlings are, above all, warriors." Trials, betrayals, magic and curses, romantasy, upper YA. I enjoyed this one! Already have the next two installments of the series. I do adore Grim, but I don't dislike Oro. I feel like the love triangle is a little wonky at times. Overall, it's stuck in my head.

🎠 The Fine Print: "To the girls who dream of meeting a prince but end up falling for the misunderstood villain." Grumpy x sunshine, boss x employee, childhood trauma, partner trauma, age gap. I left logic at the door for this story. Overall fun read! Loved grumpy Rowan! This did take me a while to finish, I even had to pause it since I am not into the third act breakup scenes 🫠. Once I got the nerve to read past it, the rest was easy.

🌹Heartless Hunter: "You are not the things that happened to you, Gideon." Enemies to lovers, Witch x Witch hunter, best friends older brother, swoony romance, tall dark & morally grey hero, forbidden magic, duology. (Technically finished sometime in summer) LOVED. An awesome enemies to lovers story! All the ups and downs are good. Definitely will be a re-read. The only takeaway from this one is that I wasn't a big fan of the audiobook. I was reading ahead of the audiobook. (Side note about myself. I generally read and listen at the same time.)

❤️One Re-Read: One Dark Window Duology: I can't express enough how I adorn this duology! I deeply enjoy Rvyen and Elsbeth, but Elm and Ione stole the show.

Dnf'd

1.) The Flesh and Fires Series. I completed the first one dnf'd the second at about 30 chapters. It just didn't itch that scratch for me.

2.) Fall of Ruin and Wrath at about 20 chapters in. I like the beginning, but somewhere after chapter 10, I slowly lost interest.

I might put some currently reads on hold to re-read Fourth Wing and Iron Flame again before Onxy Storm, but I'm trying for the 31st to have all three done.

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tigermousse · 1 year ago

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Soulset

⦁ genre: otome, amare, mystery, thriller, drama, comedy, romance, supernatural

SoulSet is one of my favorite visual novels. I've read it before, and for the first time it hit me emotionally so hard, I couldn't stop thinking of it - even three years later. I would like to erase my memories to unravel this breathtaking mystery again. But I can't do it, so I've just erased my in-game progress and gave this novel a re-read.

You awake in a strange gloomy mansion with five strangers and all your memories lost. The only episode from your past that you remember is that your dragon Isshin is dying and to prevent that a strange man (Feathor) casts a spell on you, binding a dragon's soul to yours.

Who are those people? Why are you in this mansion together? Everyone is claiming that they don't remember anything about them, like you. But what if someone is lying? Who can you trust, if anyone at all? Where do you even start? You need to act soon, because around the mansion is a strange barrier that you can't cross. Who made it and how can you get rid of it? But it seems that this isn't even your biggest problem for now…

It is a game that is meant to play several times (about 20 times, actually) to fully uncover the mystery. . Each route reveals just a part of truth, and I should say that reading the novel first time, I didn't get the whole picture until it was presented to me. There are "true endings" for each character, but also the ultimate "true end" which binds together all story lines. In some endings you will find love, in other - gruesome death, but nevertheless each time the game ends, you wake up in the same mansion. And you need to find out why.

I really love how the tension in the game is building in every route, and even after finishing most of them you are still curious what to expect next…There are some complications and small plot inconsistencies, but nothing changes the atmosphere and fact that this story is incredible. Also there is a huge grumpy CAT!

Marco: "Not counting myself, of course" Shira: "Yeah, yeah, You're so powerful, you can barely stand on your own two feet."

The game reminds me of brilliant "Zero Escape" series in several aspects, though I don't want to give major spoilers, but I adore the idea of tampering with fourth wall and the whole visual novel mechanics. Also it has some puzzles.

!This is an adult visual novel and has some sexual content and use of alcohol!

CHARACTERS:

MC Mariko

Even with her memories gone, Mariko' s personality is flamboyant. She is smart, sexy, funny and confident, has an aura of a leader. Also she doesn't remember her past, but Yvonne tells her that she sees that her aura is very dark. Who she was? What did she done? What she forgot and does it really needs to be remembered? Though she doesn't remember how old she is, she feels like a mature woman.

Also in the library there is a portrait of a young girl that looks like her - and it was painted half of a century ago. How could it happen? Mariko is openly showing her affection to the person she is pursuing. She likes to flirt and tease, and the sex for her is the normal part of life. But also she can be caring and attentive.

Mariko DOES some stupid mistakes in bad routes, but that means she's a human with flaws. I like every single thing about her, whatever she does or says is very amusing. I can see why the other characters like her and give her trust.

Likes: having a good time Dislikes: curses Talents: unknown (necromancy)

My rating: 5/5 [probably, my favorite MC]

Lord Mutik

We have a huge black grumpy cat in this game. Feed him sardines! He'll like it. Or will munch your hand instead. Anyway, the game with cat is always better than one without it.

My rating: 5/5

Love Interests (MILD SPOILERS AHEAD):

On the first glance, LIs in SoulSet are look like a strangely arranged diversion of characters, on second glance - nothing about them is as it seems. It is an amare game, and it does have romance and sex scenes (avoidable), but the main point is building trust between characters, and because of that some routes feel less romantic than others. There are poly-amorous options with some characters. The whole game is pretty much LGBTQ+ positive.

Apris's, Yvonne's and Shira's routes can be pursued from the start; other need clues found in other routes to reach true ending. Marco's and Feathor's true routes can be reached only after finishing all other routes.

Apris

Apris is a strong silent giant, who looks like he hasn't slept for several days, but he keeps telling that if he falls asleep, something bad is going to happen. He doesn't talk much and obviously doesn't like to be around people. It seems that talking to him only makes him uncomfortable, despite his calm attitude. But he has a cooking talent, and deep inside himself (har-har) can be really caring. He has some problems with demons, and you will probably learn about it early in game. His route is not very romantic, and his character feels a bit bland, despite his interesting past.

Likes: fresh air Dislikes: being around other people. demons Talents: cooking

My rating 4/5

Shira

Shira is the one who dresses prettily and doesn't trust people easily. She loves reading, and probably her favorites are mystery romance novels and thrillers (I love these too). That is why she tries the hardest to solve the mysteries of the mansion, and questioning everything that happens. She's expecting everyone to have secret motives (and sometimes she's right).

- Do you fantasize about such things often? - Define "such things"...

Despite seeming rude and straightforvard, inside Shira is shy and restricted. She has trust issues and a secret of her own.

Bringing the most comedy into the novel, Shira is also smart, passionate and caring, that makes her route the most romantic, it is cute to tease her, but it is also fun to pair her with Marco.

Likes: alcohol and mystery romance novels Dislikes: losing Talents: illusions

My rating 5/5

Yvonne

Yvonne is kind, soft-spoken, kind and polite girl, who likes to help other people - despite looking so provocative, she is really sweet. There is no false bottom in her, however her route holds a lot of clues and reveals a great deal of game plot. She remembers that she has a spice shop and that she is acquaint with healing magic. Basically, Yvonne is a typical otome MC, but without shyness and stupid actions. She gives people almost too much credit for her own survival. There is nothing not to love about her, she's really cute in every way.

Likes: helping other people Dislikes: violence Talents: healing

My rating 4,5/5

Shirr

Shirr: "I believe I'm not that good at dealing with people"

Shirr is the last person to be found in the beginning of the game and she is seriously wounded. Who did it and is it someone who is still in this mansion? It seems that she doesn't even remembers her name at first, so she can't tell who did it to her. She is self-conscious, quiet and restrained, but also has some unusual talents as lock picking. Is she speaking so little because of shyness or she is hiding something? Can she be trusted at all?

I have to say that for me my favorite part of Shirr's route was how all the other pairings turned out. [I would like a route like this, but with each other LI involved and Mariko staying single]

Likes: vegetables Dislikes: Marco Talents: lock picking

My rating 3,5/5

Marco

Marco looks like he is fourteen, and sometimes acts like the teenager, but he definitely knows too much about magic and the rules of this world despite the memory loss. Despite being the youngest, Marco is behaving pretty serious at times. Since the beginning he is the one who is telling others what to do, trying to help others to regain their memories and telling about how the barrier and illusions work.

Sometimes he's fooling around, flirting with girls, teasing and pushing the boundaries of others. But when Mariko pursuing him on his route he becomes doubtful, backpedaling all of a sudden. Still he is very protective of Mariko, seems that he cares about her. Who is Marco? (that is actually one of the main question in this game). Has Mariko met him before? Do they know each other? What did they forgot about their past?

For me his route was very emotional, I actually freaked out at one point, but luckily it turned out better than I expected. This storyline is still one of my favorite and it will probably stay this way among other dramatic routes in visual novels.

Likes: pretty girls Dislikes: hurting Mariko, being treated like a child Talents: alchemy, magic

My rating 5/5

Feathor

Despite Feathor being present in Mariko's memory, at first he's nowhere to be found in mansion. Yvonne can found him later and after finding 5 green clues his route becomes available.

Not giving too much spoilers, Feathor is a powerful mage, who knows Mariko for a long time. Once he saved her life, but that comes with a price. He's ruthless, cunning, deceptive, psychopathic, selfish man, who doesn't care about other people's life. He is using people for his own needs or just for fun, discarding them later. But with Mariko it was a bit different. The story of Mariko and Feathor is an illustration of co-dependency, and it is portrayed good enough.

Likes: messing with others heads Dislikes: someone hurting him Talents: magic

My rating: 2/5 as a LI - and 5/5 as a representation of someone to keep away from

Secret Apris route (demon)

Apris is possessed by a powerful female demon, which is dormant when Apris is awake and wakes when he sleeps. This demon can kill everyone in this mansion, but if you guess her name (after finishing Apris route and Shira's bad route), she can not hurt you, and MC can make an alliance with her. (And also have sex). If you play your cards right, you'll make it in one piece. Don't forget how deceptive can demons be.

Likes: toying with people, sex Dislikes: other demons, someone calling her name Talents: killing other creatures

My rating: 2,5/5

Overall:

Visual: 5/5

Story: 5/5

Characters: 4/5

Romance: 4/5

Originality: 5/5

My Rating: 5/5

You can get this visual novel from NoBreadStudio on Steam or on itch.io

#SoulSet #visual novel #video game #video games #otome #nobreadstudio #my review #personal #Tiger Mousse

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antigonick · 5 years ago

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Charge.

CONTEXT : I’m not saying 90% of my life is spent babbling about Fallen Hero but you really should check it out. DISCLAIMER : Not much is mine except for a few shot-in-the-dark head-canons, and everything else belongs to Malin Rydén. WHAT TO EXPECT : Erratic punctuation & coarse language. Mild spoilers. Everybody is halfwitted and loves thinking in italics. Also, I was going to be a cool cat and limit myself to a little bit of fighting, a little bit of thinking, but then BAM this got chargestepped and sappy and out of hands real fast. I have no excuse.

2010.

First the fist collides with your jaw then you grin.

Duck turn kick (miss) kick (hit) and shift. Shark skin is rough like sandpaper and wet and unyielding, but you track the soft and the weak: eyes squinting in the heat and the supple maw you might be able to break and the snout curved like an arrowhead and that human body, ready to bleed, ready to sizzle, following you between the cars. High up, the press is circling vulture-like; from your little dotted audience you feel the smiles and the gasps and the screams and the sighs skittering in your veins like water boiling.

It’s been going on a while and you’re hot (more than usual, that is), you ache, the taste of blood goes straight to your head. Shit that’s good. Tap hiss tap dance your heels on the asphalt and in the huge windows of the building from the corner of your eye you can see you. Behind the sweltering quivering heat of summer. Facing the ugly misshapen silhouette of Sharkinator.

You. You in cobalt blue.

You, turn duck kick (hit) slide punch (miss) run! stop dodge laugh.

‘Come on, Jaws, show some teeth!’ you taunt and won’t that make a great headline?

In the glass windows the waltz is dizzying, you spy; and Sharkinator snaps at you and you keep eyeing those gills that slice his huge head where it meets his shoulders; because why are they here, because it’s not like they’re any use, it’s not like he’s breathing underwater, so what does he do with those, and you think, what if, what if I spark these up a little?

The fish-man is stewing, whack tap and thump goes his knee against your stomach, a strangled chuckle (from you) and a snarl (from him):

’Don’t bite off more than you can chew, Marshal!’

Uh-oh, nice, so we’re really doing this, hm, we’re going for teeth puns? But you can’t hear your own laughter—you keep eyeing those gills—because the crackling breaks and swells in your ears—you flex your fingers (already itching) (what if, what if I spark these up a little?) and you’re ready when he lunges—parry spin and

CONNECT.

You’re not ready, though. For what happens next.

You’re not ready for the water.

You don’t get it, you don’t see it, you can’t see it, you don’t think that’s even possible, what in the actual fuck? Fine, fine, keep moving, can’t stop won’t stop, no, wait, it floods you like a dirty leak floods a crumbling basement; cold and murky and popping until something cracks, something breaks, something short-circuits in your head (are your eyes closed?) or in your back and you would laugh, you would, but there’s a moment there when you can’t feel your legs and the whiplash is enough to make you gag in sheer fucking horror.

Though you don’t. You don’t know where you are. Your head is swimming. (Get it? Swimming?)

Fall (on your knees) groan moan

(Is it crackling and bubbling you hear?)

dodge roll (yes) exhale and stand up stanD UP STAND—

‘—UP, STAND UP you fucking idiot!’

‘What… Una?’

‘Sure, yeah, say my name in public why don’t you, and next time maybe tag my phone number on a building while you’re at it?’

‘I mean, I don’t have your…’

‘Shut up and move!’

You glimpse the prone writhing body of Sharkinator but she’s going fast and the sirens howl and with an arm across her shoulders you turn, veer, ugh, you hit a wall or four, stumble, huff, and under your weight she’s seething; you can hear her sharp little muffled voice through the crepitating haze, you just couldn’t wait to show-off you absolute dumbass, you just couldn’t, ready to fry right there on the sidewalk, I can’t believe this shit and also do you think my life-purpose is to save your ass?

It’s a fine ass, you want to say, but your lips feel numb and your shoulder hits the fire escape with a clang (where are you?) and the glare of the day is needling at your brain so you let your head fall a little, on her smooth masked head, just a second, Una, can’t stop won’t stop you know me, just a second and then we—

‘Oh fuck no Ricardo, don’t you dare—’

You definitely dared.

You wake up propped against the brown backrest of your own sofa, eyelids orange, yellow, white, and burning. You can feel her, gloves off, fiddling with your ports. The almost silence, just her breathing and the clinking of metal against metal, a screwdriver? Then, the tentative stirring humming of power under your flesh. The golden smell of coffee somewhere, somewhere close. You flex your hand and she slaps it impatiently, sighs, moves (creak) and comes back. Suddenly there’s a soft, damp, cool cloth against your cheek, hmmm, yes, though—wait—

‘What the hell?!’ you recoil up the backrest, face stinging, ‘is that bleach?’

‘Boo-hoo, don’t be such a baby, you’re too old for that,’ she tosses the soaked towel on the armrest (that’ll stain), smirking her bunny teeth smirk with a glee that’s nothing short of vicious.

Mask rolled up to the tip of her nose, she flops down on the coffee table one knee up and closes her small white hand scarred and rough around your smiling winking face—well, not yours, but the one printed on the Charge™ mug.

‘You’re merciless.’

‘Narcissistic much?’ she comments, tipping the mug.

Here you are, lovingly painted, with tapered waist and rich blue suit and stylised thunderbolts around your head like some kind of storm-born saint.

‘It was… a gift.’

‘From yourself to yourself? I don’t care, I’m keeping it.’

‘Want to build a little Ricardo altar in your room?’

‘I will throttle you in your sleep.’

‘Please don’t wait for me to sleep.’

She might win at elbowing you in the face, but she can��t win at banter, so she snorts and huffs and shrugs, then walks away. You hear her swear low in the kitchen. You wonder if she blushes; her suit comes up to her chin and the mask comes down to her nose and the large turquoise ovals hide her eyes but she has freckles on her hands and a pale mouth that speak of light hair and sunburns. Not that it matters, but the suspense is killing you, right? It’s been killing you for years and it itches like a scab, this not-knowing, this not-seeing, this inch-by-inch, this one wall you can’t skirt jump wreck.

The cold bottle of beer falls in your lap and she sits back on her chipmunk perch one knee up. She snaps her fingers at you.

‘Just put the towel on your face, idiot, you’re still bleeding.’

You open the bottle and the cold brew hits your throat just right, bubbles and fresh bitterness like a jolt to the mind. You still feel hazy and lukewarm, you need hot-wiring.

‘That’s not how human medical care works, you know.’

You think she glares, can’t be sure with those turquoise fly eyes, but she gives you the finger too so there’s a fair chance.

‘Fine, yeah, but also, I’m not your fucking nurse.’

‘You are merciless.’

‘I am. And heartless. That’s my secret. That’s why I keep the mask on.’

‘Robot?’

‘Android. Come to wreak havoc on humanity and take the Rangers out, one by one,’ she deadpans.

Is she fucking with you?

Of course—still, your heart throbs in delight and your blood bubbles and something drops low in your stomach like jumping from a cliff (no no no don’t think about that) and you can see it in your mind, Una, teeth bared, knuckles white, eyes afire (blue eyes brown eyes grey eyes?), the scheming first, then the bite, the kill; she’s got the guts and the moves and the rabid wrathful kick. She could do it. Well: she could try.

You can, you can see it, the bite the kill—the kiss of death.

Better not say that crap in front of Chen. He already thinks she’s a double-agent on the loose and you have to weave in and out of this conversation like an eel, laughing brightly, saying come on, come on man, she’s too soft, you’ve seen her coo at dogs when she thinks nobody’s looking.

You swallow the beer and throw her a brilliant smile and lean all the way, arm outstretched to the fruit basket behind her but she thinks you’re—oh—she slides to the side with a sharp jerk; innocently you grab an apricot though you almost laugh when she hisses.

‘Oh yes, the remake would be legendary,’ you purr, mostly to see if she’ll rip your eyes out. ‘You. Me. Los Diablos 2019. I can see it. Babe Runner.’

‘I can’t believe someone made you Marshal. Who the fuck did you bribe?’

‘Don’t be mean, you’re the babe in this scenario.’

You sink into the sofa, stretched out and muscles sore, and when you bite into the apricot with a smile the flesh splits on your tongue like a burst of sunlight.

She stares.

She gets up.

She rolls down her mask.

She does blush, doesn’t she?

Looks like you’ve won this round.

‘I’m leaving and you should get some sleep,’ she snaps cradling that mug empty of coffee and full of you. Her mouth is set and her gait is harsh despite your chuckle, but when she walks close there’s a second, a second soft and warm when her naked fingers skim your forehead petal-like but you’re an idiot so you reach to grasp her hand and she punishes you by smacking your head instead.

2021.

First the static sizzles against your eardrum and then you grin.

‘You’re in,’ says Deadeye and nothing else since.

The place’s been on your list for years, but this time it’s going to work, this time you’ve put a wire in its gut, this time you’ve heard it plainly from Manolo himself—she wants to meet them at the Cellar Bar. Hollow Ground. A face for the systemic chaos.

It’s been days but every time you tune in you get this shiver this quiver the urge to pace the urge to laugh the urge to dance no that’s not it—the urge to strike. You’ve turned off your own microphone so that you can tap tap tap throw the ball against the wall, twack whoosh open the beer bottle, click click click shake the painkiller box, crack hmm make your back pop. Better to keep your distance anyway, technology doesn’t like you much. You turn and turn in the little room, you open the dirty glass door and you crouch on the rickety balcony with the long-ranging binoculars, you fiddle and check the monitor and throw your hearing as far as it can go, which is much further than it once could, strain and strain and you write down the names, the places, you hedge your bets, you come at night, you doze and bite your arm, you sigh and stretch and skip, pins and needles under your skin and ants swarming inside your skull, and then

Then, one day.

You catch it.

‘They’ll be here tomorrow night, her and Nocturne. Make sure everything is ready. Dampeners on.’

‘Seriously? Candlelit dinner with a telepath? Didn’t even know those were still a thing.’

Fuck yes fuck yes. You throw the ball hard against the stone floor and watch the current twitching between your fingers nervous and restless like your brain. You wait a while. You need sleep, you need gear, you dig the heels of your crackling hands against your eyelids and the pain simmers low like a headache. Shit that’s good.

Turn on your heel grab your bag breathe in get out.

Parkfield at night is full of scumbags with impeccable taste in shirts and suits, and if you ever get your fists on one you’ll have to ask them for their tailor’s number. You can’t compete today, wearing a hoodie stolen from Chen, but still you glimpse you in the shop windows, shoulders stooped, hands hidden, head hung low, and you smirk slow in the shadows. Tonight you see her. Tonight you see Hollow Ground. Tonight the veil falls the light comes the hunt starts or—whatever else they say when an epiphany hits you in the face with a baseball bat.

You press your index to your ear and stop not far from the Cellar Bar, too close for comfort, close enough to get that small delighted shudder of adrenaline along your spine. And then you wait.

You’ve gotten better at that.

Wait listen track.

Grind your teeth shut your mouth bide your time.

You get your money's worth tonight: wait listen track and

hold your breath—hold… hold… hold on.

The voice you hear buries itself in that soft place beneath your ribs where a blade comes to kill.

‘I'm here for a meeting. I was told to wait at the downstairs bar,’ says the sharp little unmuffled voice.

Really you shouldn’t you shouldn’t be surprised but fuck, tonight? and all the same your blood rushes and pounds and you catch your gasp right before it burns your mouth and sssssssss hums a tremor from your bones to your flesh.

To Deadeye, but in your ear, Una asks:

’Aren’t you coming?’

You almost laugh. Dirty talking on the job now, are we?

Tempting really, but first you have to checkmate that filthy little liar and also, fuck, make sure she doesn’t get herself killed, and also, fuck again, make sure she doesn’t get herself hollow-grounded, and also, fuck! Shit, shit, shit. What the hell are you doing? What the hell is she doing? Where the fuck are you going? You sizzling crackling flashing and the audio goes dead and your mind races and splits like lightning.

Can’t wait can’t stop won’t stop.

It takes everything you have not to break into a run, but then again you couldn’t get inside even if you wanted to, and you tell yourself, she knows what she’s doing, you’ve seen it, Chen’s seen it, you’ve exchanged glances—the querulous stance, the fading bruises, the hard muscle under those ridiculous layers. Seen it felt it.

You find the grimy back alley and you grit your teeth. The one-way back door is condemned by a huge dumpster. You raise your gaze to the darkened windows, to the flickering streets and all those strangers who couldn’t care less about what you’re doing, hidden that you are by hood and night. Fuck this. Turn rush push. The dumpster whines on its wheels but yields to your hand and releases the door (just in case) and you dance back as fast as you’ve come; turn the corner, and now torture, walk the street once, twice, thrice, tap tap taping your fingers against your thigh.

Two hours days centuries minutes.

Two three four ten twenty.

You walk further and further to cover you tracks. In the shadows you lay your forehead against a coarse wall for a second. Twist, go back. Weave through the streets. Could use a drink, could use a jump, could use a fall. Could use a fight. Could fight Una. You think of that mask all those years ago, that mask rolled to the tip of her nose, and the grave (shit no), and all the masks that came and went, and all the masks that you both still have to peel off, you think of that mirror helmet of… hers? Of course it’s hers. Well, at least you can see yourself in it, and she knows how much you like that.

Suddenly you jolt and you hear, you hear it: the running steps, the scrape of the metal back door, the low swearing, the faraway shouts and the racing on the asphalt and then she hits you square in the chest like the bullet she is.

You exhale a groan and steady her with a hand but she jerks away and she’s ready to split but then her eyes register you and for a second you see it like you saw it in that coffeeshop when she came back from the dead, the deer in the headlights, the panic flaring, the dark twist of her mouth ready to bite.

So what can you do? Smile, sigh. Laugh.

‘Fancy seeing you here, lover.’

She’s breathing fast and blinks, fists clenched. She must be really upset, ‘cause you wouldn’t have survived that nickname otherwise. You take her in; the hair mussed, the throat working, the shitty flannel shirt on a large t-shirt. Did she meet and greet the queen of down below dressed like a depressed teenager? Fuck she’s an idiot and irresistible. She’s on the balls of her feet and she’ll punch you soon but you see the soft and the weak, her arm slightly bent, her cut lip, the surprise that you could use to take her out. Then suddenly she barks (attack first think later):

‘I’m working, Ricardo. Are you following me?’

Is she? Is she working? Working for the bane of your damn existence? Tonight the teasing doesn’t flow easy.

‘Working. You’re working.’

‘Working, yeah.’

She’s fucking with you but that’s only fair; after all, you are fucking with her.

‘Shit,’ you say, duly concerned. ‘That boss of yours is running you into the ground.’

She pauses, eyes fixed on yours, warm and dark and wavering. She’s not gonna fall for it. She’s not. She oh, she is. Sharply she turns her head and she sinks all at once, hook and sinker she swallows the lie, ravenous ravenous for half-truths she is.

‘Yeah, she’s a jerk. Listen, I have to go.’

‘Aren’t you going to slap me goodbye?’

‘You’re as disturbed as you are ridiculous.’

‘Whatever you want me to be,’ you tease, but your heart is in your throat.

She snorts and sidesteps you (get it?), ready to disappear, but when she walks close there’s a second, a second soft and warm when your thumb comes and wipes the blood off her mouth, and she’s an idiot so she reaches to grasp your hand and rewards you by kissing your palm instead.

#AS PROMISED #fallen hero #charge #about fallen hero #notebooks #can't re-read this or I will curse myself for the Romance of it all

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leftoverenvy · 3 years ago

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Secrets of the West Wing (ch. 3)

This chapter is from Emily's POV!

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x fem! reader; Emily Prentiss x y/n

Warnings: mature (eventual smut 17+); lots of cursing this chapter; self-loathing; sexual innuendo/tension

Summary: Y/n has been elected president and Emily Prentiss was assigned as the head of her security detail. Will they break protocol and give into their developing feelings, or will they remain professional? AU Criminal Minds presidential fic. Slowburn romance. Haven't decided, but probably eventual smut. Emily Prentiss x reader/Emily Prentiss x y/n. @sweetprentiss

Read on Wattpad | Ao3 | Previous Chapters

Chapter 3 - Athena's Imprint

April 2025 - Emily's POV

I woke up, like every other morning, annoyed at my alarm tone. Jesus I was not a morning person. I shut it off and stared up at the ceiling. I blew out a long breath willing myself to get up to face yet another torturous day of staring at y/n. I indulged myself two minutes of daydreaming. She was so competent, so regal, so sexy. She was beautiful to distraction. I couldn't help but mentally drool at yesterday's dress choice. Tight, black, belted at her waist. And those heels she always complained about but I loved.

My mind took a turn to what those heels would look like on her feet pointed straight up in the air while y/n laid flat on her back...OK two minutes are definitely up. I can't be starting my day aching for someone I'm supposed to be cold and detached towards. I blew out another breath. Asking for a re-assignment was always lingering in the back of my mind. But her visceral response to me leaving kept me from asking. If I really loved her, I'd care more for her safety than being near her. Pardon me? Love? When did that happen?

Who was I kidding? I knew exactly when that happened. It was one of our cherished weekend evenings where y/n drank way too much wine and giggled incessantly at everything I said. She waltzed in the residence in a body con emerald dress and suit jacket, and I thanked whatever creator was out there for delivering me such an angel. Not even caring about the boundaries we previously set, she flopped on the couch, scooted, and draped her legs over my lap. Following her lead, I allowed myself one touch of her legs. How could I resist when they looked so soft? But my self-control did not allow just one touch. The energy between us sparked to life as soon as our skin made contact, as it always did. I couldn't get enough, so my hand rested on her legs all night. And I fell in love.

I was addicted to her. Her smile, her laugh, the way her eyelashes fluttered at me when I flustered her, the way she bit her lip when I made her nervous. It was my favorite game. But it was the most dangerous game I'd ever played. Far more dangerous than anything I'd done for Interpol. Every flirtatious smile and wink directed towards her put her in danger. And I loathed myself every single day.

I sighed again. My two minutes had turned into ten. My self-loathing like a bucket of ice water. She could never be with me, love me, if she really knew me. I couldn't let myself get any closer. I would taint every good part of her. And there were so many good parts of her...

God damn it, Emily, please get it together.

I grabbed my phone to check our SS chat for any updates from the night. Agent Green sent a video with a message saying, "Anyone know Athena could do this?" Odd. I clicked play and stopped breathing. She was absolutely breathtaking. Throwing her head back in pure happiness, the light haloing her as if even Green's phone knew how holy she was. And no, I did not know she could play like that.

Anger bloomed in my chest from so many sources it left my head spinning. I felt my face grow hot and my fist clinched. I knew for a fact that room hadn't been properly swept last night. And that area of the White House was open to the public during the day. It was incredibly reckless for her to be there. Because knowing her, I was certain she didn't tell anyone she was going. And then more confusingly, anger towards Agent Green. Why should he get to see her like that? So casual in her tiny, sinful shorts so completely carefree and uninhibited? She was mine to see like that.

Fuck. I had never been a jealous person. Never caring for anyone enough to make the emotional drain seem worth it. Jury was still out whether the emotional drain now was worth it. My anger cooled somewhat at the thought that of course y/n/n was worth it. She was worth everything.

As I got dressed and put some light makeup on, I organized my new schedule for the morning. 1) Discuss with Hotch and Penelope about getting a piano for the residence. I was shocked she didn't already have one. She clearly enjoyed playing and was excellent at it. 2) Yell at y/n for endangering herself and making the agents on-call last night scramble. Potential 3) Strangle Agent Green for getting the opportunity to see her play in person.

I already knew she was gonna argue with me. I don't know if she did it on purpose, but every time she caught attitude with me all I could imagine was shoving my fingers between her pouty lips and wrapping my hand around her pretty little throat to shut her up. Such a pretty little brat. She just needed my guidance to be a good girl. I chuckled at the thought of the President of the United States being a sub. I rolled my eyes - fat chance, Emily.

I made my way down to Hotch's office. "Good morning, sir."

He nodded towards me. "Prentiss. I assume you've seen Agent Green's video?" I nodded. "Good. You know her better than anyone. What can we do about it to make sure that doesn't happen again? Do we need a schedule? Does the grand hall need to be part of a thorough, nightly sweep?"

"Sir, I think if we coordinated with Penelope, her assistant, we could get a piano in the residence and solve the problem."

"Great - do it. Also, I'll leave talking to her about taking her safety more seriously to you." He smirked up at me, knowing just how stubborn y/n could be.

I chuckled. "What a pleasure it will be, Sir," I said walking out of his office.

As I reached the Oval, I was stopped by Penelope. "Good morning! Have you seen my chocolate thunder this morning? He looks just yummy today."

"Can't say I'm the best person to comment on Morgan's 'yumminess,' Garcia," I laughed.

"Riiiight my sweet, sapphic Secret Service. There's a certain someone else in the White House you might find yummy," she said with a ginormous smile, glancing towards y/n's office.

I cleared my throat and looked at my shoes. "Look Penelope, I don't kno-"

"Don't even start, Emily Prentiss," she scolded. "You and I both know what I'm talking about. And I TOTALLY support by the way."

I quickly changed the subject, uncomfortable with others in the West Wing knowing how I felt about my charge, knowing I was so unprofessional. "Look, so I need your help."

Thinking I was about to ask her for romantic help, Penelope's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "ANYTHING. You name it and I'll make it happen."

"Love the dedication, Garcia, but I'm afraid it isn't for me. It's for y/l/n."

Her face fell and she sighed. "One day, when you're ready, I'll be here. What can I help you with in the meantime, my love?"

"Last night y/n was traipsing through the White House looking for a piano and settled on the great hall. So I was wondering if you could arrange for one to be delivered to the residence. I don't care where it goes so long as it stays in the residence. Y/n can move it if she so desires. I think she's partial to black Steinways. Thanks."

Before Penelope could trap me into making more admissions by silence or awkward, furtive glances towards the Oval Office, I turned away from Penelope and entered the Oval. This could go one of two ways: 1) y/n gets really mad at me for being overbearing, or 2) I get so incredibly turned on and frustrated by not being able to shut her up how I want, telling her what to do. Or I suppose, if she's feeling really antagonistic, I'll get a lovely combination of the two. Here we go, I mentally prepared myself.

I knocked and entered. She was on the phone, likely with the French president since she was speaking French. My stomach clenched at how sexy it was. It didn't matter that she was discussing NATO and the unrest in Eastern Europe. She was so beautiful it actually made my heart ache. I was lost in my thoughts for the millionth time today, and the day had just started.

"Bon. À la prochaine," I heard her hang up. I stood up and mustered my resolve to not let myself devolve into a horny mess during this conversation.

"Madam President, is now a good time?" I asked.

"Uh oh. I got the formal title, and no one's around? What did I do?" Her wide, doe eyes didn't fool me. She thought if she were cute enough she could get out of this. She was almost right.

"Don't play that today, y/n. You know what you did last night was stupid. Agent Green told you it wasn't safe." I stood firm.

She sighed, "Look. I had a lot on my mind and I hadn't played in WEEKS."

"None of those are excuses. You can't be so cavalier about your safety, y/n," I gently pointed out.

"I didn't even leave! You said I could always go anywhere in the White House without telling anyone!" she argued. There's the spark I expected. She stood up and moved to the same side as the desk, leaning against it next to me. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.

"That isn't what I said, and you know it. I said you could go between the West Wing and the residence, no problems. Those areas are always safe. The grand hall? That area is open to the public during the day, y/n. It should have been swept before you entered."

She looked up at me with a glint in her eyes, "Agent Green did sweep it."

I don't know why she thought she could bend the truth with me as if I hadn't discussed this with everyone involved last night. "It doesn't count if you're already in the room. Kind of defeats the purpose, wouldn't you say?"

"Well, I'm alive, aren't I?" she asked, stepping closer. My jaw clenched. I could smell her intoxicating perfume. I closed my eyes, forgetting I was supposed to be reprimanding her.

"This time you're alive. Do you think I would gamble something so precious as your life?" Jesus say less Emily. I mentally rolled my eyes at myself.

Her expression softened, the fight leaving her. "It isn't so serious, Em." God that nickname melted me. I always hated it until I heard it leaving her mouth; it made me feel so safe when she said it.

"Can you just please promise to announce your nocturnal adventures to the agent on duty so they can ensure it's safe?" Though my voice had softened to match hers, I was still put out. "It is my job to take care of you after all." God I liked the sound of that: taking care of her for as long as she'd have me.

Her face fell. "Right. Sorry Agent Prentiss. I know your job is on the line if something happens to me." Her acerbic tone and use of my title caught me off guard.

Before I could ask about it, she changed the subject. "So I was curious about something..." She looked back up at me with questioning, guileless eyes.

"What's that?" I played along, now smiling because the hard part was over...or so I thought.

"Last night Agent Green called me 'Athena.'" My stomach dropped.

"I don't hear a question in there..." I stalled.

"And I was wondering the reasoning for choosing that for me."

I ignored the fact that she still had yet to ask me a question. My thoughts were reeling. When I chose her code name I hadn't realized how revealing it would be about my opinion of her. I was once again lost in her expectant gaze. She raised her eyebrows, "Well?" she prodded.

I blew out a puff of air, inadvertently picking at my nails. Y/n's eyes dropped to my hands, surprise evident on her face that I was so nervous. I cursed my tell. I cleared my throat, not sure if I should tell y/n I had been the one to choose it. I decided to frame it as if it were a group decision.

"Well...Athena is the Greek Goddess of wisdom, courage, civilization, law and justice, etc. She was highly logical, spending her time with philosophers and other academics in the pursuit of knowledge. I guess we just saw a lot of that in you." There. That wasn't so bad.

"But she was also a virgin! I know how to google too, Emily. She was logical to a fault - immune to such emotions like love!" She was mad again. She stepped even closer. If she had been taller, she'd be face-to-face with me. "You think I'm cold? That I can't love? Just because I'm single?" I winced. No. I certainly hoped not. I only dreamed about loving her every night.

"Not at all, Madam President." I fought against every urge to kiss her to show her how capable of love I thought she was. Using her title helped keep my perspective. "You're just one of a kind. You're the first single person, man or woman, elected President. I thought it was fitting." Before I could reveal more about myself, I hardened myself, shutting myself off to her. I willed myself not to be affected by her sweet scent.

"Look, I get that you want to play the piano and wander around or do whatever it is you like to do, but it's dangerous if where you go isn't properly checked out before you go. And you will not do it again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes ma'am," she whispered. My heart skipped a beat and my stomach tightened. Those words shot straight to my core. I exited the Oval Office in a hurry.

_______________________________________

Y/n's whispered "Yes ma'am" echoed in my mind all day, making it excruciatingly long. When I got to the residence, I immediately checked to see if Penelope succeeded in delivering a piano in such a short amount of time. I was not disappointed. I'd have to get her a little desk trinket as a thank you. I got in bed, not caring that it was only 7:30 pm. I was absolutely gone over y/n and today ruined me from getting anything productive done.

I finally allowed myself to dwell on what happened today. Y/n/n was so special and such a huge part of my life already. Her mark on me was irrevocable, permanent. I fell asleep to her alluring eyes blazing behind my own eyelids, wrapped in the memory of her scent.

A few hours later, I was half awakened to the sound of tinkling piano. A sad yet calming song that tugged at my very soul. A melancholy lullaby that ensured I had the best sleep I'd ever had before. Safe, warm, and loved.

Continue to next chapter

#iv’s spring writing challenge 2022 🌸#criminal minds #criminal minds au #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x fem! reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x female reader #Secrets of the West Wing #wlw writing #🌬 fics

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irelandseyeonmythology · 3 years ago

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Now, you might be saying to yourself "Surely, the bitch has learned the vital lesson from the Sentient Four Treasures book and has given up."

...unfortunately, all I learned is that I need to read more Irish mythology-inspired books, but I decided to take a break from romance and delve into the world of the occult, with the help of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

So, while I was searching for an old ff.net story where Bres is trying to bring back Balor and...I think he tries to sacrifice Buffy at some point (?) and definitely had a thing for the Lady of the Lake before he killed her, I came across THIS. An actual, licensed novel. Set in the world of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, shortly after Buffy's return from the dead.

And this novel has everything.

Implied Spuffy Bondage.

An evil leprechaun trying to fuck Willow.

Badly written out Cockney accents.

Bad written out Irish accents.

Human sacrifices.

Tuatha Dé VS Fomoire drama.

Jack the Ripper trying to bring back Balor.

Pseudo-AU-Bres BEING Jack the Ripper. (He's not called Bres, he's called the very Irish name of Thak...but he's totally Bres. If Bres was ugly and had mommy issues on top of his daddy issues.)

It's like someone read my mind close to twenty years ago and created a novel specifically geared to two of my niche interests (it's a relatively little known fact that I've been quietly doing research on the Whitechapel Murders since I was twelve -- never in large doses because it gets to be a little overwhelming.)

And...here's the thing....the writing style is GOOD. Or, at least, not as bad as what I'm used to. It's not, say, Toni Morrison, but it does its job. Everything flows together nicely, there's some genuine bits of haunting imagery in there, the characters are well-done. I found myself really feeling for the Slayer Elizabeth in the Victorian arc, even though we got to know her briefly. There are times when things are either not explained or under-explained, but I can still tell that this is a professional, polished work. It has almost NOTHING to do with the actual myths, but that's partially why I can forgive it a lot. Nemain is Balor's consort (poor Cethlenn), but....that's a normal amount of batshittery. It can't top "Tailtiu is a dragon" for me, I'm sorry.

The names are. Hm.

-Besides Thak, we have the Tuatha Dé king, Banshee. (It would have been. So easy. To NOT do this. Even in the early 2000s.)

- Flinn the leprechaun.

-MacNair. As a given name, not as a surname.

- The Season of Osiris being the scary time when the sacrifices must be made for Balor to re-enter the mortal world. (Yes. Osiris.) It would have been. So easy. To just do what every other dime store novelist does and use Samhain, but I have to appreciate the innovation.

-The following ancient Irish spell (Little known fact: All Celticists are required to take an extended study in Ancient Irish Curses. Not medieval. Ancient):

As you can see, it looks suspiciously Lovecraftian.

-Have I mentioned the accents?

...this.

I realized, when I nearly did a fist pump when King Banshee™ lost his hand, that working on CMT for as long as I have has kind of. Ruined me.

Oh my God....it's Bres the Ripper....and he has....VANTABLACK. (He is ultimately defeated by Anish Kapoor wielding a steel chair.)

The story is a little grimdark for my tastes -- Personally I enjoyed the psychological horror aspect of the Ripper's fog causing everyone to become terrified and paranoid more than the loving descriptions of disemboweled bodies, which were...a little distasteful, all things considered, and over the top given everything else. It felt like the author wanted to scale everything up so that it was MORE, MORE, MORE (the Ripper needs 12 victims, even though historically he "only" killed five, maybe six women.) I've actually never watched Buffy, so I don't know how dark it actually got, but this sometimes struck me as a little more slashery/15 year old on FF.net-esque with the gore than a 1990s TV show. King Banshee™ has a throne of human skin and bones and like...I'm not saying that the Tuatha Dé wouldn't for MORAL reasons (Never forget Midir demanding a sacrifice of puppies and kittens in Tochmarc Étaíne like WHAT THE FUCK MIDIR) but because..............it doesn't really suit their interior design. Like, that would clash with the whole "glorious halls fit for a king" vibe they have going. It strikes me as being extra just for the sake of being extra, to establish that ACTUALLY these guys are creepy, when there are subtler ways you could do that.

I feel like the thing that it actually does RIGHT when it comes to medieval literature, and that I'm fairly certain it did accidentally, is in the way that the Tuatha Dé are treated, where they're beautiful, described as being like Legolas from LOTR, but distinctly Off, and still harboring a deep hatred for humans. This is pretty much exactly what you generally see in medieval sources, with the Tuatha Dé being none too happy about losing Ireland to the sons of Míl. The druidical sacrifices are mentioned, early on, as being a way to placate the Tuatha Dé, which again...seems like a relatively decent explanation, given that one of the few examples of human sacrifice actually described in a medieval or early modern Irish text, Echtra Airt meic Cuinn, does feature a human sacrifice in response to a blight in the land. (That is to say, sacrifices were not necessarily for a positive result, but for undoing a negative, if that makes any sense, via placation. Though we do have some examples given by the Romans of seeking a positive result, such as curing an illness via human sacrifice in the hope of one life being restored via the sacrifice of another.) I feel like ultimately, the thing that this does REFRESHINGLY, and the thing that redeems it, is that the Tuatha Dé are very much presented as just as much a threat as the Fomoire.

I also thought that them living beneath a cemetery which, again, might have been accidental, is actually a really nice equivalent to the síde. Again, possibly (probably?) accidental, but it was enough to make me happy.

#reviews #long post

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queerpyracy · 4 years ago

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hi king [ gender-neutral ], may we have some more of your thoughts about frankenstein? i've really enjoyed your posts about it and your fic.

as you've been re-reading the book, and specifically writing about it, what do you wish you could point out to everyone and go, "SEE??? ARE YOU SEEING THIS????"

what questions do you have - for shelley, for the characters, for the story itself - that you feel like you can't yet get to the bottom of without writing ten extremely granular essays about them?

what parts of the story make you go completely apeshit?????

anon you've unleashed a monster but i'm happy to provide. long and rambly so i'm putting it under a cut

cw for mention of suicide

here's something that made me completely insane when i reread it recently: when the creature is giving his account of his life up to that point to victor, before he gets to the paradise lost bit that everybody rightfully loves, the very first book he reads is the sorrows of young werther, which concludes with the titular werther killing himself because of unrequited love. i may never read the end of the book the same way again. like mary just came out of the past to give me a swift right hook to the face when i googled werther to see what it was about.

i have long been of the opinion that frankenstein is a doomed romance, that victor & the creature are bound together in a terrible commingling of desire and hate that could only ever lead to them destroying each other (but like in a romantic way). at the same time that the creature curses his creator he also desperately longs for any sign of affection or kindness, and victor--well. victor made an 8 foot tall intended-to-be-beautiful superhuman in his college apartment.

this is why the ballet is the only adaptation

(relatedly, go ahead and listen to cosmic love and think about the creature, and you will know a fraction of the suffering i put myself through)

i think the creature is a fascinating lens through which to view all kinds of alienation, the kind of people that are made to be monsters in society. he is perceived to be monstrous because of his body, and that's a visceral source of alienation. bodies are an inescapable fact. there are things we can change about them nowadays, but generally not without drastic measures. and why do we make the changes we make? the monstrous body is hypervisible.

to the best of my memory, victor receives very little in the way of physical description in the novel, even when he's starving to death in the arctic. (walton waxing poetic will be discounted for the moment, because i don't think he actually gets into too many specifics about victor's features.) most of the men are hardly described at all. some female characters receive a bit more, to highlight how beautiful they are, of course. but we know a lot about the creature's physicality. we know about his incredible strength and speed, his yellowed eyes, his sleek black hair, his black lips. other bodies, human bodies, are allowed to largely sink into the landscape. the monstrous body has to be brought into sharp relief as the thing that doesn't belong.

and victor, victor, victor. victor who gets pushed by his father to move on from the death of his mother, who most certainly never really processes his grief, who never seems to consciously make the connection between his mother's death and his quest to defeat mortality. victor who fashions a near-son while subconsciously trying to bring back his mother, who dreams about kissing elizabeth (his adoptive sister, cousin, and fiancee) and having her turn into the corpse of his mother on that night the creature first wakes, for whom the notions of death, family, love, and desire are all inextricably intertwined. victor who doesn't seem to be aware that his world is suffocatingly small, and that his inability to act when faced with the creature is because he has been so shielded from the world by virtue of his privileged position in society. victor who imagines his suffering is greater than that of an innocent woman being condemned to death for the murder of a child she cared for.

i think, ultimately, that frankenstein is a novel without heroes. as much blame might be (rightfully) laid at victor's feet, can we not also lay some blame on victor's father? "you've grieved enough, better to get back to being a productive member of society" is some toxic protestant bullshit if i've ever heard it. what about the peers and mentors in ingolstadt who apparently failed to notice anything odd about victor's behavior during the two entire years he spent building the creature? where does the harm begin? we know where it ends.

as for questions, i think my biggest question is one mary shelley probably wouldn't give me an answer to, even if i could ask her. because i do wonder how much of the men in her life there is in victor frankenstein. if there are shades of her relationship to her father, or to percy. this paper posits that to some degree mary can be found in both victor and the creature, which i can certainly see, but i still wonder. she clearly loved percy bysshe shelley a great deal, but it doesn't seem to have been easy for her. (certainly from my perspective two hundred years in the future i think he behaved terribly callously to her.) i wonder if there were times that she hated him as much as she loved him.

which is not, ultimately, to say i think she would have written it that way on purpose. i don't think i'm undercutting the rich material of the novel to say that she was 19 and writing her first work, it's very easy to do these things subconsciously. she may not have intended it that way at all, but perhaps, she might have noticed it later, if there was something to notice. but i suspect, from the way she carefully constructed her own myth around the writing of the novel, she would never give me an answer to that.

#frnknstn hcs #now i have a proper tag for this sort of thing #thank you anon for giving me an excuse to not edit and post the last two chapters of my fic yet kssnsms #they'll be up soon i just have to like #emotionally prepare myself

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emmaswcns · 4 years ago

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Hi Renee! Hook, David and Snow for the character headcanons? <3

becky, thank you !!

going under a read more <3

killian jones:

Sexuality Headcanon: if someone told me a really convincing reason why hook could be considered anything but straight, i'd love to hear it and absorb it bc that would be so amazing for me. but unfortunately, killian has made it quite clear that he's quite the ladies man lmao

A ship I have with said character: obviously captain swan. the more i re-watch the show and don't skip over the cs parts, the more i remember how cute they actually were. it's still team #swanqueen for me, but hook makes emma happy and therefore i am happy lmao. also, ariel and killian could've been hot !

A BROTP I have with said character: captain charming! also like i said in my other post, i do wish that neal had survived longer bc neal and hook would've been a great duo. ALSO, it's not a brotp bc killian hates him, but the few interactions between will scarlett and killian were great and i loved those two together

A NOTP I have with said character: idk any notps i would have for him. probably just henry honestly but that goes for any character in this show

A random headcanon: this is more a headcanon about a scene rather than just hook, but i just recently rewatched snow drifts and i am convinced that emma brought ef!hook back to his ship to have sex w him bc time traveler!hook told her NOT to go to the ship and when emma gets there and sees time traveler!hook there, she's like "what're you doing here?!" / "i thought you'd be gone by now" which means she was TOTALLY planning on going back to the jolly roger with ef!hook and i think we all know what would've happened had time traveler!hook not been there. that's not really a headcanon about hook, sorry, but it's the only headcanon i have that has him in it really lmao. (i don't think abt killian too much oops)

General Opinion over said character: i actually do like hook's character now that i am rewatching without being bitter about captain swan. i feel they ruined him the same way they ruined emma, just not as horribly. he still had a personality by the end - albeit, not his personality, but still a personality where emma was like a dead fish for two whole seasons. i like that he has a redemption arc and all that, but at the same time, i absolutely adored captain hook opposed to killian (if that makes sense? like villian hook) and he was probably one the best villians on the show imo.

prince charming:

Sexuality Headcanon: as much as i would love to see some captain charming romance, david strikes me as pretty straight

A ship I have with said character: snowing always and forever. no contest there.

A BROTP I have with said character: captain charming and also emmadavid. i know they're not really a brotp really, but i love daddy!charming and i love how similar david and emma are and i love when they work together on stuff and when they're both sheriff !!

A NOTP I have with said character: david and kathryn. it never made sense bc it wasn't supposed to and i just didn't like kathryn's character that much (probably bc of the curse but you know lmao)

A random headcanon: i just always find myself thinking about how much of an amazing father he would've been to emma had the curse never happened. like he'd be totally obsessed with the notion that emma wouldn't love all the girly things about being a princess and she'd love riding horses and sword fighting and all that stuff he'd love teaching her but also he'd be the dad who cried his first time seeing emma in a ball gown ugh i love them :'(

General Opinion over said character: he's a bit questionable in the beginning (having an affair and all that but they were cursed so i can't judge too hard lmao), but david is such a solidly good character. he steps up to the plate as dad of the year multiple times when snow is less than helpful w emma and he is truly a prince charming and i love him very much

snow white: (oh becky... you opened a can of worms here lmao)

Sexuality Headcanon: mary-margaret? straight as a whistle. enchanted forest!snow? i could see enjoying the company of men and women (all her time w ruby? come onnnnn)

A ship I have with said character: obviously snowing !! not even a contest for any other ship there.

A BROTP I have with said character: regina & snow. i always say it and i am a broken record, but their character development together is *chefs kiss* and i love how close they become by the end.

A NOTP I have with said character: um maybe whale? lmao. i've seen some instances of cora x snow and i can't get behind that. some evil queen x snow tho? i could possibly get behind it but probably not still.

A random headcanon: i hate to say it but i think emma and snow would've had a hard relationship had the curse never happened. i think snow would've wanted emma to be the typical princess, and emma obviously wouldn't be. i feel snow would pressure her a lot and emma would pull away and spend more time with david and possibly grow to resent snow the way regina resented cora (not in the same way ofc, snow would never kill emma's first-love/any love of hers but you know what i mean)

General Opinion over said character: okay i was obsessed w mama!snow in season 2, having that time with emma in the ef and having that heart to heart in emma's would-be nursery. i really liked her until season 4 when she had baby neal and was acting as if she didn't have another child. i understand that emma is what 29 by this time? maybe 30? but like, she's also her child who needed her and it just felt that snow kind of threw her to the side to focus all her energy/love on neal and it's quite obvious in episode 4x7 when she looks at/treats emma like absolute shit. she then realizes what she's done and feels badly BUT then she supports emma and thinks it's a good idea for her to get rid of her magic so she could be "normal"... yeah i just did not like snow past neverland. she was not a good mother after that point imo.

#ask games #becky tag #once upon a time #ouat

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