#deeply enamored with her writing and everything about her AS a character as well as extremely biased in trying to see the best in her

[pinkseas]

when the line changes from meaning "im the ruler of my own world" to "i finally have worth because i am finally the ruler" because this character has never been allowed to break the rules and never been in control of their own life. and now that they HAVE broken their every most significant rule in the worst, most traumatizing ways possible, they've both changed drastically as a person and warped the entire situation in their head: they blame themselves, they KNOW that the situation is their own fault, but they cannot handle the weight of that guilt and have forced themselves to blame absolutely Anyone else instead because of it. in losing everything that defined them as a person and Taking control for the first time in their life out of an inability to face themselves and their own actions, they think that they've finally found worth in themselves, that they were meant to be the ruler. that THIS was god's plan and what they were meant to be all along. and even then, supposedly having finally broken the rules and their meaning and their worth, they're still not actually in control. they're in denial of the truth of what happened in spite of knowing it deep down, they've lost everything that defined them as a person and have NO idea how to find it again or to discover themselves without it, and though their revenge plot has given them power over perhaps the entire world they still aren't actually the one in control. taking revenge and pleasing the only gods they know for certain exist is one last desperate, terrified attempt to save themselves from the consequence of what they've done and from ever having to face themselves.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🦇 Divine Rivals Book Review 🦇

Find my review below.

❝ I think we all wear armor. I think those who don’t are fools, risking the pain of being wounded by the sharp edges of the world, over and over again. But if I’ve learned anything from those fools, it’s that to be vulnerable is a strength most of us fear. It takes courage to let down your armor, to welcome people to see you as you are. ❞

❓ #QOTD Have you ever had a pen pal OR what book do you want to read before the end of the year? ❓

❝ Perhaps it begins with one person. Someone you trust. You remove a piece of armor for them; you let the light stream in, even if it makes you wince. Perhaps that is how you learn to be soft yet strong, even in fear and uncertainty. One person, one piece of steel. ❞ 🦇 For centuries the gods have slept, only to drag mortals into their feud upon waking. After her brother leaves to fight, 18-year-old Iris Winnow strives to support herself and her mother. She'll need to win the columnist position at the Oath Gazette to do so. Only one problem: her rival, Roman Kitt, who seems to have everything handed to him. In her brother's absence, Iris drafts letters to him on her nan's old typewriter. After slipping them under her wardrobe door, they vanish―unknowingly, into the hands of Kitt. As they write back and forth to one another, they forge a connection stronger than any war. Can the kindled hope between them survive this world?

💜 The mingled scents of black tea and smeared ink, the clatter of an old typewriter, and the vulnerable longing left by loss. Add a dash of magic, wailing sirens, the echoes of bombs exploding...it all seems like a recipe for disaster, not an enemies-to-lovers romantasy novel, and yet, these key ingredients set Divine Rivals apart as one of the must-read novels of the year. Rebecca Ross has crafted a clever, enthralling love story that perfectly balances whimsy, fear, longing, and mystery with this deeply emotional, spellcasting first installment. The shared heartache for those they miss and lost unites Iris and Roman in ways they don't even realize from the start. The magic of their typewriters and the vague mythology behind the war mix well with the historical setting. It's the almost-lyrical, poetic prose of their love letters that is perhaps most striking. With each letter, they both shed a bit of the armor they hide behind, revealing scars and vulnerabilities underneath. What starts as an enemies-to-lovers romance full of sass, wit, and charm becomes so much more. By the last few chapters, this story will take grasp of your heart, seep into your bones, and trigger intense feelings of longing until the second novel is in your hands.

💜 Iris is a heroine you can stand behind and root for from the first page, but it's Roman who holds the cards in the first half of the novel. Watching him fall first (initially through the love letters), while struggling with guilt, grief, and his familial debt was a beautifully painful experience. I've experienced part of Iris' journey, falling for someone through pen and page; Ross captures that enamorment perfectly. For the most part, the story is more historical fiction than fantasy. The magic seeps into the roots of the story, adding bewitching elements without stealing from the star of the show: the growing feelings between Iris and Roman. They find love in the dark, a spark of happiness in moments of fear and despair. Iris experiences so much loss, only to gain a found family (also, sapphic ship alert!). I rarely, rarely say this, but this is the type of story I'd love to see on screen.

🦇 Since this is a slow-burn romance, the pacing does drag at times, especially in the first half. While Ross' choice to sprinkle hints of the mythology and magic throughout the story leaves readers to focus on the character development and romance, it does keep us entirely in the dark. Though the rivalry between the gods started centuries ago, it seems strange that there's little known about its origins. Even the snippets Roman finds (which paint Darce and Enva like Hades and Persephone) feel incomplete. The world-building holds us at arm's length from the fantasy side of the novel until the very end, causing the final chapter to feel nearly out of place. It seems the mythology was restricted only for the shock value of that final chapter.

🦇 Recommended to fans of VE Schwab, Sarah J Maas, Jennifer L Armentrout, Lore, and Fourth Wing.

✨ The Vibes ✨ 🖋️ Rivals to Lovers/Dual POV 💌 Found Family 🖋️ Love Letters/Witty Banter 💌 Historical Fiction/Fantasy/Romantasy 🖋️ War Setting 💌 Magic, Myths, and Gods 🖋️ He Falls First 💌 Slow Burn

[pikapeppa]

This ended up being longer than I intended but I'm going to send the whole thing anyway

I have spent the past 3 days reading "Becoming Whole" because I found the post where you put an excerpt of the prologue and was like, "ah, hell yeah, this is the kind of fic I love." And now I'm on chapter 26 and absolutely loving it, but what I am enjoying the most is how good your characterizations are of all the characters. The interactions between characters are SO GOOD and the dialogue all flows so well and I am enamored with the little GAIA gang conversations. Also I love how you write the action scenes, the domestic scenes, the questing, and the sexy stuff all at the same high caliber. Also, I legit cried when Aloy was doing Kotallo's hair by the waterfall and realized the depth of her relationship with Rost, I was WEEPING and it was THREE IN THE MORNING. It was SO tender and emotional and sweet and such a lovely contrast to the previous scene (which was then contrasted again with the following scene 😉), and it was also such a nice injection of character development for Aloy, which we all love and crave constantly.

Like, you are writing things about Aloy in this fic that I debated at length with my college roommate back when the game came out (we are also both fix writers) because we wanted Aloy to be able to work through her trauma and everything that happened to her and yet couldn't in the Zero Dawn narrative. And here you are, making her work through them and giving her so much support from both the other characters and from the narrative itself, morphing the original game storyline and details into something so rich and full. Its everything I could ever want in a fic AND THEN MORE, and i am having such a good time reading it and I NEVER return to fics, but I am genuinely going to re-read "Becoming Whole" when I have finished this first read.

Everything about this fic is so good and I especially love the art and screenshots you include with your chapters. Thank you for writing everything you have written. Literally thank you for being a writer and deciding to write fanfiction. Your writing is so good

OKAYOKAY BEFORE I REPLY: I can't ignore the fact that this is the first BEAUTIFUL installment of a magnificent two-part ask:

Me after part 1:

Me after part 2:

OKAY BUT FORREAL let's see if I can reply now in a semi-cohesive way via point form!! 😂

I'M SO THRILLED that you're enjoying the characterizations!! One of my biggest goals in writing fanfic is for the characters to feel true to their canon characterizations, so I am genuinely so thrilled that you feel this way and that you're enjoying all the interactions among the GAIA Gang!

omfg Aloy getting to process her trauma and everything she has seen/heard/gone through: PLEASE 😭❤🙏 I think every Horizon fan I've spoken to has said that they deeply want to see her get that space and time to process and grow in a safe and supportive environment, and I just want to give that to her 😭❤ I'm writing the GEMINI chapter now and it's about to go to angst-town about THAT whole can of worms, so I can only hope that I continue to do our babygirl justice in dealing with all of That™ 😭

I'm so thrilled you're enjoying the art and photomode shots!! I actually ADORE photomode and I have a lot of unused shots stored up on my PS5 and computer that I've been too busy/lazy to share, so I will try and add more when appropriate to the upcoming chapters! And there is a beautiful piece of art coming up that I can't wait to share ❤

And then you sent Ask #2 AND I JUST ABOUT LOST IT. YOU WENT FERAL😂😂😂 But honestly, all the things you mentioned? Fashav's journal, the GAIA and Lis conversation, the Shrek song, the PINING from afar over your new love?? All things that make me weepy to so HEY WE CAN CRY TOGETHER IN HELL

Honestly though, THANK YOU for sending these asks. Thank you for the care and thoughtfulness you put into them -- it means the world to me, TRULY. I am so thrilled that you are enjoying the fic this much and I hope you'll continue to enjoy it as you read on!!

For anyone who is curious as to what we are going on about: Becoming Whole is here on AO3! Aloy x Kotallo, almost 600k words, rated E for smut!

-- love from your friendly neighbourhood Pika! xoxo

[blondiest]

Questions for fic writers, number 41!

HELLO FRIEND!! <3 i love this question ty :3

41. Link a fic that made you think, “Wow, I want to write like that.”

okay so i am going to blatantly openly cheat and link 2 fics that have really, really stuck with me for similar reasons despite being quite different (the reasons being "great atmospheric descriptions" "environmental storytelling" "characterization" and "dialogue")

FIC 1: alignment by @lightyaoigami. fucking god-tier characterization imqho (this can be said for everything monica has posted frankly). incredible level of attention to detail imo but done in a way that makes it look almost effortless. specifically the way monica goes about conveying little bits of info about the characters... idk, she has a way of doing it in such a superbly natural way that it makes the characters feel quite vivid & real. the characters feel like they have a life outside of the story (<- paraphrased but stolen from @quicktimeeventfull bc xie articulated it better than i can). also, her dialogue makes me certifiably bonkers.

because i am insane i will be including textual examples. i would apologize for my long-windedness but in truth i am not sorry at all <3

example 1: dialogue [context: Light at the end of a relatively terrible date with a woman named Naomi]

“Just look at yourself,” she said, gesturing to his whole body with her vape. “People who eat pussy don't stand like that.”  “Like what?”  “I can't describe it,” she replied matter-of-factly. “You just don't carry yourself in a pussy-eating fashion.” She blew another plume downwind, the mango scent floating towards the harbor.  “Okay,” Light said, making a mental note to stop standing the way that he was standing. “Well. I understand. Sorry. I hope you liked the food at least. Can I call you a car?”

^ I WILL LITERALLY NEVER BE THIS FUNNY IN MY LIFE.

example 2: environmental storytelling / characterization [context: Light looking around L's apartment. obsessed w/ the amount of atmospheric storytelling here.]

A desk with a tiny chair buttressed the window, through which shone rays of post-storm sun. Piles of Criterion Collection Blu-Rays and dog-eared thrillers likely sourced from Little Free Libraries nearly obscured the sunflower-printed desk mat below. Light fingered the spines of the books, split between fiction and instructional; among them, The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, 1Q84, A People's History of the United States, and, hidden under several broken-spined Gillian Flynn novels, a brand new copy of Playing Well With Others: Your Field Guide to the BDSM Community with a crisp receipt from Greenlight Books still sticking out of the closed cover.

i just. i'm on my knees.

FIC 2: puppy dog by @quicktimeeventfull . BIG into the atmospheric descriptions in kyo's writing as well frankly & this is i think my favorite of xirs, though i am very enamored w/ xir writing in general as well <3 i'll mention that it's probably a smart idea to read the warnings for this one in the notes if you're squeamish!

example: environmental storytelling [this feels so vivid to me and i am deeply obsessed with the phrasing and word choices here]

There is an eeriness to hotels at night. The hallways are always so bright and the doors seem to extend farther than they do in the day. Here, the walls are beige and are carpets criss-crossed with a pattern of diamonds. L rubs his eyes beneath the fluorescent lights, then shakes his head and pads to the end of the hall, through and down the stairwell. He gives a little nod to the concierge, then walks outside into the black night. Outside there is a parking lot which looks vast in the dark, and stars above, spilling a dull grey across the sky. Past the parking lot he can see only the highway which bleeds into the overpass, but he knows the city is there, further on, its lights leaking into the sky. It doesn’t matter which city, really. After a while they all become the same. His mind gets so fuzzy with the miasma of them.

AUGH!!!

since this is a oneshot i am actually going to avoid including another excerpt as i don't want to just like. wholesale post spoilers of the whole damn thing hgdsfsdf but i really love the dialogue in this one too <3

ANYHOW thank you for this ask, and for bearing with my lengthy answer gdhsfsdhfjs <3

fic writer asks

[thecatduet422]

you have some of the most gorgeous descriptions i have ever encountered: "Puddles grew bigger, their reflections mirroring the colors of the city, catching the lights of the buildings, the streets. Until they reached the sky, where a clouded moon hung above." I'm in love. the movement in this story is incredible. i can see the city and the people and the action so vividly from the way you describe it. i'm enamored and also devastated because jason being vulnerable and actually trying to talk about it took me out. i could barely read it with how deeply emotional it was. i just love this story so so so much. and the amount of work you put into it, i cannot even fathom. THANK YOU!!!! there's something kind of heartbreaking (and maybe painfully ironic) about jason's almost-mantra to jess being "trust me" when trust was what he gave to bruce so unconditionally until it killed him and then some. i have absolutely no clue as to how jason could avoid crane's instruction at the end. the plotwork is god-tier as is the character depictions and literally everything else. the way that jessica is ornery and prickly and generally unpleasant just gets to me because it's so well done and i love that about her character which balances the centre she works so hard to protect. and the trauma. the realism of that hits home with the way it seemingly comes from the most innocuous things as reminders and sinks deep. i was wondering, and feel free to ignore, but what made this one the devil chapter? what was it about the switching POV - which were really great btw?

OMG! Thank you so much for the comment, friend! I try lol, especially with AKA 🤣

I guess this chapter was tough because I needed the conversation to go in a certain direction, but I also needed everyone to stay in character. There were moments when writing Jason where I was like, "He sounds too much like Dick here" or moments with Jess where I have to stop and rewrite because it was something she wouldn't do in that situation. I try very hard to be true to the characters, so the switching POV's threw me off a bit, and I lost count of how much alternative dialogue I wrote for this one lolol.

This, doubled with the fact that there is a lot of plot, and there are a lot of layers to it right now. Everyone has their own agenda; Jason wants his plan to go off without a hitch, Jessica wants answers, and Bruce wants to figure out who hired her. And I feel like it's just a three way game of rock-paper-sissors with everyone choosing a different item (or at least, that's the idea I'm *trying* to pull). I have the outline, but actually writing it is a whole other thing, and with this being my first fic, it's a lot of work and energy 😅

Tbh, it's probably why I'm leaning towards reader fics in my other works (I don't have to worry about staying in character when the character *is me* lolol)

Buuut, that being said, I know all of the buildup is gonna be worth it in the later chapters 😈

Thank you for reading AKA, friend! It holds a special place in my heart and I'm super proud of it ❤️

[impalementation]

spike, angel, buffy & romanticism: part 3

part 1: “When you kiss me I want to die”: Angel and the high school seasons

part 2: “Love isn’t brains, children”: Enter Spike as the id

* 

“Something effulgent”: Season five and the construction of Spike the romantic

Prior to becoming a romantic interest, Spike is everything I discussed in the last section. He is an id and a mirror for Buffy, he’s prone to both romantic exaggeration and cutting realism, and his liminality suggests ambiguity. But outside of “Lovers Walk”, the writing doesn’t actually delve too deeply into Spike’s nature as a romantic. If you stopped the canon at “Restless”, you’d probably think that Spike’s love for Drusilla was intriguing, but that the show hadn’t really gone anywhere with the implications of it, and for all you knew, that might not be an important part of his character anymore. So one of the most interesting things about season five to me, is that in this season in which the writers first consciously, deliberately decide to explore the sexual and romantic tension between Spike and Buffy, they also emphasize Spike’s romanticism more than ever. The choice to define Spike by his romanticism is a choice that follows naturally from everything established about his character, but it was also not an inevitable choice. Therefore, it’s a choice worth looking at in some detail.

Consider everything that “Fool For Love” establishes about Spike, especially the things that contradict what was supposedly canon at the time. It makes Drusilla his sire instead of Angel, meaning that he is sired by a romantic connection, and as a direct result of heartbreak. It makes him a poet living in the middle of the Victorian era, an age at odds with his previous ages of “barely 200” and “126”. Meaning that the writing specifically decides to ignore its canon in order to associate him with an era in which passions would have been repressed (rather than the Romantic era of the early 1800’s or the modern energy of the early 1900’s). Moreover, the episode reveals his entire aesthetic and personality to essentially be a construct. But most tellingly of all, it reveals him to be an idealist. Spike is not just a performance artist; he yearns for the “effulgent”, for something “glowing and glistening” that the “vulgarians” of the world don’t understand. In other words, he yearns for something bigger and more beautiful than life: something romantic. Later, he chases after “death, glory, and sod all else.” Spike may be a “fool for love”, who has a romantic view of romantic love specifically, but the episode is very clear about the fact that he is also a romantic more generally. When Drusilla turns him, she doesn’t tempt him by telling him she’ll love him forever. She tempts him by offering him “something…effulgent”. (Which, in typical Spike form, the episode immediately undercuts by having him say “ow” instead of swooning romantically). The fact that “Fool For Love”, Spike’s major backstory episode, is so determined to paint him as a romantic--and in particular, a disappointed, frustrated romantic--that it is willing to contradict canon to do so, tells you that this choice was important for framing Spike and his new, ongoing thematic role.

I’ve talked in the past about how season five is all about the tension between the mythical and the mortal--between big, grand, sweeping narratives, and the reality of being human. Buffy is the Slayer, but she’s also just a girl who loses her mother. Dawn is the key, but she’s also just a confused and hormonal fourteen-year-old. Willow is a powerful witch, but she also just wants her girlfriend to be okay. Glory is a god, but she’s also a human man named Ben, and finds herself increasingly weakened by his emotions. And Spike embodies this tension perfectly. He’s a soulless vampire with a lifetime of bloodshed behind him, but he’s also this silly, human man who wants to love and be loved. He wants big, grand things, but every time they are frustrated by a Victorian society, a rejection, a chip, a pratfall, or dying with an “ow”. Furthermore, his season five storyline is all about the tension between loving in an exalted, yet often selfish way, versus loving in a “real” or selfless way. 

There was a fascinating piece a ways back that discussed how Spike’s attempts to woo Buffy in season five almost perfectly match the romantic narratives of Courtly Love. In the words of the author:

The term "Courtly Love" is used to describe a certain kind of relationship common in romantic medieval literature. The Knight/Lover finds himself desperately and piteously enamored of a divinely beautiful but unobtainable woman. After a period of distressed introspection, he offers himself as her faithful servant and goes forth to perform brave deeds in her honor. His desire to impress her and to be found worthy of her gradually transforms and ennobles him; his sufferings -- inner turmoil, doubts as to the lady's care of him, as well as physical travails -- ultimately lends him wisdom, patience, and virtue and his acts themselves worldly renown.

You can see for yourself how well that description fits Spike’s arc. He fixates on the torturous, abject nature of his love, and has it in his head that he can perform deeds and demonstrate virtue, and this will prove to Buffy that he is worthy of her. But despite Spike’s gradual ennobling over the course of the season, I think it would be a mistake to see the season as using the Courtly Love narrative uncritically, or even just ironically. The same way it would be a mistake to see season two as using the Gothic uncritically. Spike is as much Don Quixote as he is Lancelot. He is a character that deliberately tries to act out romantic tropes, giving the writing an opportunity to satirize those tropes, including the tropes of chivalric romance. In particular, the writing criticizes Spike’s (very chivalric) fixation on love as a personal agony, something that is more about pain--and specifically, his pain--than building a real relationship. Over and over in season five, he is forced to abandon these sorts of flattering romantic mindsets in favor of a more complicated reality. 

So at first, Spike’s “deeds” tend to be shallow and vaguely transactional. He tries to help Buffy in “Checkpoint” even though she doesn’t want it (and insults her when she doesn’t appreciate it), he asks “what the hell does it take?” when Buffy is unimpressed by him not feeding on “bleeding disaster victims” in “Triangle”, he rants bitterly at a mannequin when Buffy fails to be grateful to him for taking her to Riley in “Into the Woods”, and he is angry and confused when Buffy is unmoved by his offer to stake Drusilla in “Crush”. While these attempts to symbolically reject his evilness are startling for a soulless vampire, and although Spike certainly feels like he is fundamentally altering himself for Buffy’s sake, none of it is based on understanding or supporting Buffy in a way that she would actually find substantial. Moreover, he lashes out when his gestures fail to win her attention or affection. He has an idea in his head of how their romantic scenes should play out, and reacts petulantly when reality fails to live up to it. 

But these incidents of self-interested narrativizing are also continuously contrasted with scenes in which Spike reacts with real generosity, or is surprised when he realizes he’s touched something emotionally genuine. When Buffy seeks him out in “Checkpoint”, his mannerisms instantly change when he realizes she actually needs real help (“You’re the only one strong enough to protect them”), rather than the performed help he offered at the beginning of the episode. At the end of “Fool For Love” he’s struck dumb by Buffy’s grief, and his antagonistic posturing all evening melts away. He abandons his romantic vision of their erotic, life-and-death rivalry in favor of real, awkward emotional intimacy. In “Forever” he tries to anonymously leave flowers for Joyce, and reacts angrily when he’s denied—but this time not because he wanted something from Buffy. Simply because he wanted to do something meaningful. 

This contradictory behavior comes to a head in “Intervention”, the episode in which Spike finally begins to understand the difference between real and transactional generosity. Up until that point, Spike has been reacting both selfishly and unselfishly, but he hasn’t been able to truly distinguish between them, which is why he keeps repeating the same mistakes. Although he touches something real at the end of “Fool For Love”, for instance, he goes on to rifle through Buffy’s intimates in the very next episode. And so “Intervention” has Spike go to extremes of fakeness and reality. He gives up on having the real Buffy, and seeks out an artificial substitute that lets him live out his cheesiest romance novel scripts. It’s important that the Buffybot isn’t just a sexbot, even if he does have sex with her. She’s a bot he plays out romantic scenarios with the way he played them with Harmony in “Crush”, allowing him to almost literally live within a fiction. But then he “gives up” on having Buffy in a way that’s actually real, by offering up his life. He lets himself be tortured, and potentially killed, for no other reason than that to do otherwise would cause Buffy pain. The focus is on her pain, not his. For the first time, he acts like the Knight he’s been trying to be all along. He performs a grand, heroic deed that causes the object of his affection to see him in a different light, and even grant him a kiss. Yet ironically, as part of learning the difference between real and fake, he ceases to press for Buffy’s reciprocation. Through the end of season five, Spike continues to act the selfless Knight, assisting Buffy in her heroism without asking for anything in return. Which culminates in his declaration that he knows Buffy “will never love him”, even after he’s promised her the deed of protecting Dawn, and even though she allows a kind of intimacy by letting him back in her house. He proves that he sees those gestures for what they are, rather than in a transactional light. The irony of the way Spike fulfills the narrative of chivalric romance, is that his ennobling involves letting aspects of that narrative go. 

In a Courtly Love narrative, the object of the Knight’s affection is fundamentally pedestalized. The Knight himself might be flawed, but the woman he pines after is not. She is “divinely beautiful” and “unobtainable”, something above him and almost more than human. This is why it’s so comic that in Don Quixote, which was a direct satire of chivalric romance, Alonso Quixano’s “lady love” is a vulgar peasant farmgirl who has no idea who he is. (Think of the way Spike asks if Buffy is tough in “School Hard” or threatens to “take her apart” despite “how brilliant she is” in “The Initiative”, followed by scenes where Buffy is acting like the teenage girl she is. Or how Giles in “Checkpoint” says that Buffy has “acquired a remarkable focus” before cutting to Buffy yawning.). Although it’s true that Buffy is beautiful, and supernatural, and profoundly moral, she is also very human, and the writing is very concerned with that humanity. Season five in particular, as I’ve mentioned, is preoccupied with the duality of Buffy’s mythic and mortal nature. Thus it becomes significant that Buffy is assigned such a heightened role in Spike’s chivalric narrative. Just Spike is at once Lancelot and Don Quixote, Buffy is at once Achilles, Dulcinea, and a coming-of-age protagonist. 

And part of the “lesson” of Spike’s arc is for him to see both sides of the roles they embody. One of my favorite things about the scene in Buffy’s house in “The Gift” is how adroitly it conveys the dualities of both Buffy and Spike with simple, but poetic imagery and language. Buffy stands above Spike on her steps, conveying her elevated role, and Spike honors the way her heroic status has inspired him by physically looking up to her as he explains that he expects nothing from her. But by expecting nothing from her, and promising to protect her sister, he also honors the fact that she is a real person with no obligation to him, and a younger sister she cares about more than anything. He also honors his own duality by at once making Knightly promises, and acknowledging that he sees through his former delusions: “I know that I’m a monster, but you treat me like a man.” In “Fool For Love” he tried to acknowledge the same duality of realism and romance, by declaring to Cecily that “I know I’m a bad poet, but I’m a good man.” But at the time, he was an innocent, whose desire to be seen, and whose romantic avoidance of “dark, ugly things”, left him unprepared to understand how Cecily really saw him (similar to Spike’s insistence in “Crush” that what he and Buffy have “isn’t pretty, but it’s real” just before Buffy locks him out). Spike is a character defined simultaneously by continuous disillusionment and dogged aspiration, which is why he makes perfect sense as a character to embody a season torn between the pain of being human, and the wonder of the gift of love.

Fittingly, the season ends with Spike’s most devastating loss of innocence of all. He fails to be the hero for Buffy or Dawn (note that Knightly language he uses on the tower: “I made a promise to a lady”), and he loses the woman he loves. He may have become more virtuous, but unlike in a chivalric romance, that virtue wins him neither Buffy, nor something flattering like “world reknown.” The climax of the “The Gift” is full of romance—a god, a troll hammer, a damsel on a tower, a heroic self-sacrifice, a vampire transformed into a Knight—but the end result is that Buffy is dead, in part because he wasn’t good enough, and all that he and the Scoobies can do is grieve. Stories got Spike nothing, even when reality finally lived up to them. It is a swan song to the myths of childhood, and on the other side of Glory’s portal, Spike and the other characters will have to confront a world where those myths have been left behind.

part 4: “But I can’t fool myself. Or Spike, for some reason.”: Buffy and Spike as a blended self

[quietmyfearswith]

when you’re insecure ; preferences

warnings — body/weight insecurities, swear words, mentions of death, bit of angst??? bit of fluff???

characters — andy barber, steve rogers, ransom drysdale, jake jensen, bucky barnes, lance tucker, carter baizen, syverson, will shaw, august walker

a/n — so i read @gotnofucks’ drabble about how certain characters would react when the reader calls herself ugly and was inspired to write something similar to that ❤️ dont forget that you guys are beautiful and worth it!

their love language | with their little

masterlist

The utensils hitting the dishes was the only sound heard as Y/N and Andy ate in silence. The latter stealing glances at the girl; for he felt that there was something wrong. “I’m done eating,” Y/N declared, as she placed her hands under her chin and looked at Andy. Midbite, the lawyer had to pause and worriedly looked at her, “What’s wrong, honey?” Even though Y/N had an idea of what he wanted to know, she shrugged as she convinced him, “Nothing’s wrong.” Swallowing down his food, he was able to talk to her , “Honey, I know you well enough to know that there’s something going on in that beautiful mind of yours and a reason as to why you ate quickly.”

Feeling his warm hand grab onto hers, it was his silent way of coaxing her into confiding in him; that he was more than willing to listen to what she had to say. Taking a deep breath, she unconsciously found her hand squeezing Andy’s — as if finding the courage to say what’s bothering her. “I just don’t feel good,” she admitted, and before Andy could further pry for information she continued, “Like I’m gaining weight and it’s making me look ugly?” Shoulders sagging, Y/N sound defeated as she dismissed her own revelation, “It’s stupid I know, but you didn’t need to hear that.” Disagreeing with what she said, Andy rapidly shook his head, “It’s not stupid if it’s disappointing you,” Y/N could only offer a small smile with what he said, “If you feel as if the changes happening to your body are making you ugly, then I’m not doing my job to make you feel confident and beautiful.” She wanted to protest and say that there was nothing Andy could do to remedy the situation; but she knew better than to interrupt him when he was using his “lawyer” voice and reasoning. Lifting her hand up, he planted a kiss on her knuckles as he comforted her, “You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen and I’ll do everything in my power to make you feel and see it.  You may not like the changes you see, but I think it just makes you even more breathtaking.”

“It was absolutely crazy to see how Ilsa was more than willing to jump out of the chopper even though she knew her parachute was faulty,” August laughed out loudly upon recalling the events of the mission he’s just been to. They both were sitting on the couch, a glass of wine rested on Y/N’s hand while the other curled itself in August’s toned arm. Gulping down his beer, he shook his head as he once more at the recollection of what happened; upon seeing how the memory had such a positive impact on him, there were two thoughts lingering in her mind. The first one was that it was great to see August relaxed and happy. However, the envious part in her considered that perhaps she couldn’t always provide him with this joy — perhaps Ilsa could? “She really seems like a real package then huh?” Turning his head to her, August chuckled a bit even though the comment made him wonder with what she meant, “Yeah I guess you can say that.”

“Do you see you see yourself with someone like her?” If his confusion was just at the down low, August’s confusion could now be visibly translated through his furrowed eyebrows and shocked face, “What?” The simple question was just the surface of a web of follow-up questions he had, but he figured the time he spent with Y/N made her understand that he had a lot of questions that needed to be answered; and she did know what the simple question meant. “It’s just you seem so fascinated with Ilsa, so maybe she’s someone you want to settle down with. Someone who'll always make you feel excited and happy, I guess.” The beer bottle he was holding was placed down on the coffee table as he turned to her. “I don’t know how you came up with this analogy, but the only one I really see myself settling down with is you.” Y/N gasped out at his confession, her eyes were glossy as she felt overwhelmingly touched. “You think so, August?” Kissing her deeply, he spoke as his lips were against hers, “In this chaotic world I live in, you’re the only thing that keeps me sane and your love is something I surely do not deserve, but I’ll kill every bad guy if it meant I’d be worthy of it.”

“What’s this sticky thing?” Bucky groaned in disgust at the gooey and slimy thing he touched as he was stroking the stomach skin underneath Y/N’s shirt. They both were watching a show they got hooked on, and the super soldier just loved feeling her skin any chance he got. “It’s a new cream I got,” Y/N informed him as she giggled at his disgusted expression; he suddenly thought it was a good idea to smell the foreign substance and was disappointed to find out it wasn’t the most alluring fragrance. “Why did you put that disgusting cream in your body?” The question seemed to disappoint Y/N as she moved slightly away from him and fiddled with her fingers. “Just felt like I should put some cream on my stomach,” Her explanation had Bucky even more confused than he previously was.

“Can you explain more, doll?” Upon saying this Y/N felt uncomfortable to open up what has been bothering her; but when she looked at Bucky he had this worried and soft look that made her do so anyway. “I’m just insecure about the stretch marks that I have there — so I thought why not buy a cream that removes it.” Bucky’s initial instinct was to hold his girlfriend close as he whispered, “I understand why you felt the need to do so love, I mean that’s how I felt for a long time with my scars,” As he mentioned that, he could feel Y/N nodding as she recalled instances where she caught him staring in the mirror with disgust at his wounds, “But what’d you do? You kissed them and reassured me how they’re a part of me; and that I’m not really as ugly as I make myself out to be.” Kneeling on the floor, Bucky raised her shirt and wiped off the lotion she had rubbed on herself, and began placing kisses on it, “You’ve reassured me multiple times on my scars, now it’s my turn to do the same for you.”

“Damn Raiman is one badass chick,” Jensen whistled as he and Y/N were watching Black Mirror. As the said character was currently hellbent on getting the mission done, Y/N couldn’t feel uneasy with his comment. She knew about how initially her boyfriend had been attracted to Aisha; though she remains good friends with her, she still couldn’t help but compare herself with her boyfriend’s former crush. Turning her head to him, she could see how he was clearly enamored with the female soldier. But upon feeling her stare at him, Jensen looked at her and smiled, “What are you looking at huh?” Despite his teasing, Y/N couldn't find it in herself to reciprocate and continue the light-hearted banter. “You have a type, do you know that?”

The skin in Jensen;s forehead wrinkled in confusion, “A type?” Y/N nodded as she further explained, “You like women in the army, or at least those who aren’t afraid to go on dangerous missions.” Despite her explanation, it still did not satisfy the tech genius as he asked, “What?” She pointed to the screen where Raiman was currently shown on screen, “You like her and you were attracted to Aisha; so it really makes me think why you like me.” Finally putting the pieces together, Jensen could only chuckle at her analogy — not making Y/N feel better. After calming down, Jensen wrapped an arm around his girlfriend and kissed her forehead, “You have nothing to worry about, babe. I only liked Aisha because she was the first girl I talked to for a while; a shit excuse but yeah that’s really it. Raiman might be a badass but she sure lacks empathy. And I’m with you because you make me feel safe, loved, and appreciated. In fact you’re exactly my type.”

Y/N and Sy had just finished eating but they haven’t left the dinner table yet as they both were engrossed in conversation which was made even more delightful as they sipped on some wine. “So what, you’d be willing to lay down your life when you were in duty?” Y/N knew how dedicated her boyfriend was; the medals hanging on their wall were evidence of it. Nodding, he first took a gulp of his drink before justifying, “What better way to go than by defending your country, I guess.” Placing her chin on her hand she then pried more, “But wouldn’t you rather stay alive and continue fighting for your country?” The former soldier couldn't help but let out an amused chuckle; he didn’t know why his girlfriend had this sudden interest in his purpose or motivation when he was in the army. “Fair point, but I don’t know I just wanted to go all out.”

Though his justification was incomplete, it gave her all the confirmation she needed that he was this man of so much dedication and love for his country he was more than willing to give his all. “I feel like I don’t deserve you,” She found herself sighing to him adoringly, which caused him to look at her as if she had told him unbelievable news. “What?” Was the only thing he could mutter because he never thought of that way and he always thought that it was him who didn’t deserve her due to what he’s seen and done. “I don’t know I just feel like you’re this incredible person who’s selfless and passionate. Seeing what you achieved in the army makes me feel so small when I’m next to you,” Y/N didn’t expect that she was able to confess this to her boyfriend as she feared he might dismiss her. But Sy was awed with how highly she thinks of him considering he frequently doubts himself. “I don't know how you were able to come up with that idea, but I can tell you that you do deserve me. You loved a man who is scared and someone who’s seen unspeakable horrors, yet decided that I was worthy of your love and affection. And honestly? I think your existence served as my guardian angel during my time on active duty.”

“Angel, I’m home!” Lance announced as he shut and locked the door behind him, “Folding in the laundry!” Upon hearing where she was he then walked to where she was, seeing how she was folding clothes and pressed a kiss on his girlfriend’s forehead. “How was the training session?” Lance helped Y/N and grabbed folded clothes as they both made their way onto their bedroom. “It went great! Crystal did well in her flips and splits today,” As Lance went on about how their training session went well, Y/N could feel herself start to go down the spiral of insecurity. Unsure if she was able to mask it well, opted to nod along in silence. “Plus, her dance outfit came in today and it looks stunning! And it really looked good on her when she tried it on,” That remark of Lance’s was the final straw for Y/N as she walked out of their bedroom and moved to their ensuite bathroom.

Shocked by her sudden display of disinterest at their conversation, Lance followed her and waited after she was done splashing water on her face. “Are you alright, love? I’m sorry I got all excited about what happened today; what was your day like?” Instead of filling him in with what the day looked like for her, she dwelled on what he was rambling on, “Can’t blame you, sure seemed like you had the best day.” The gold medallist recognized that tone and choice of words and he called her out on it as he grabbed both her hands and turned her to face him, “Love, I know that what you said is sarcastic based on your tone and words; because if you haven’t noticed that’s how I converse with Hope,” Lance took it as a good sign that she chuckled which encouraged him to go on, “So I need you to tell me what’s bothering my beloved.” Her eyes looked at his, hoping that there was some other way she could tell it to him. But with his hands gently fondling hers, he somehow managed to coax her into speaking, “I just feel like it doesn’t matter what Crystal does but you’ll always be amazed with her. And it’s not just like today that you talk about her with so much admiration,” Despite feeling better since she voiced out her side, Y/N still felt silly about what she opened up about; Lance however found it helpful that she opened up about it. Pulling her into a tight hug, the gymnast rubbed her back comfortingly, “I’m so sorry for everything I did to make you feel that way. I promise to only speak highly of you and not any other girl out there.”

“Can I help you with anything, Steve?” Y/N wondered as she walked in on the Captain’s office area in their home. Peeking his head up from the computer and paperwork he had, “Not unless you can help me decipher these messages of HYDRA officials?” He groaned out in frustration which made Y/N chuckle and shake her head, “I’m sorry I don’t think I’m smart enough for those.” Just before she walked away to grab him another cup of coffee she heard him mumble out, “What’s new? No one really knows this shit.” As she was heating the beverage, she tried to convince her not to be so offended with what he said. That it was probably the result of stress and dissatisfaction from the lack of progress talking. But she knew that hit close to him since it was something that she had always been insecure about. Pouring the hot liquid on a mug, she then walked back to where Steve was and give it to him.

“Here you go,” She placed the mug on his desk and was about to walk away when she felt her hand be pulled back. “Why don’t you come here and stay with me for a while?” She didn’t even have time to answer as the super soldier already was maneuvering her so she could sit on his lap. “I don’t know, maybe it would be better if you go do that smart thing you were attending to,” Steve was able to pick up that there was something off about what she said. “Is there a reason you’re speaking to me that way, darling?” And as Y/N shrugged her shoulders, the Captain had all the confirmation he needed to come to the conclusion that there was a reason for why she was acting this way. “I just feel like, I’m not smart enough to be with you,” Upon meeting Steve’s bewildered look, she then took it upon herself to explain more, “I’ll never be able to help you out with these missions and reports; so why are you settling for me and not someone who’s real knowledgeable about all this,” She ended her explanation by pointing at the the different documents Steve had laid out in his desk. Kissing her temple, Steve hugged Y/N tightly as if he wanted her to know that he didn’t have those doubts. “I don’t think that you’re not smart; just because you don’t know a whole lot about these doesn’t erase the fact about how incredibly intelligent you are about your field of work. And so what if you’re not knowledgeable about HYDRA? It’s better because you’re not tainted by the malicious acts they did. Being with you is not me settling; in fact, it’s me finally finding something I searched for and needed.”

“Thank you so much, Melanie,” Y/N heard Will thank his assistant when she entered his office. As the aforementioned worker said it was no big deal as she exited the room to give the two privacy, Y/N announced, “I can come back later, bub, if you’re busy.” But her boyfriend shook his head as placed the files he was handed down on his desk, “Nonsense, come over here! I missed you.” And as they both shared a hug, they hugged tightly as if they were trying to explain how much they loathed having to spend time away from each other. “Brought you some lunch,” She placed the paper bag on his desk, careful not to stain any of his documents. “You shouldn’t have! I was just about to ask Melanie to grab some for us.”

Maybe it was the way her act of getting him food was easily dismissed; but the fact that he thought of relying more on his assistant ticked Y/N off. Standing up from the chair’s arm she was sitting on, her reply of, “Sounds like you don’t need me then,” had sass in it. The businessman however speculated that something was up. “You’re not leaving until you tell me what brought about this change of mood,” He pointed out her body as if the problem was something that could be seen. Y/N rolled her eyes to which her boyfriend tsked at; a way of telling her that there was no way they weren’t resolving it right now. “I just feel like you’re placing such a high regard or like you’d rather Melanie do things for you,” She sighed as she crossed her arms. Sighing as well, Will smacked himself internally for making his girl feel this way. Standing up from where he was seated, he pulled her in for a half hug which gave him the opportunity to look at her as he reassured her, “I don’t place Melanie in such a high pedestal, okay? It’s just I’m used to her assisting me for work and I’d rather put her through all the hassle instead of you. But you do me the greatest and biggest favor of all — you put up with my shit, look after me when you know I neglect myself, and love me unconditionally.”

When Carter told Y/N that they needed to go to this gala, he took it upon himself to take a day off to go shopping. The latter always claimed how the former went overboard when buying her an outfit and accessories. Less than a day prior to the gala, Y/N shocked Carter when she let it slip how she had no plans of attending the said event. “What? Why not?” The CEO panicked as he turned to face her. Wiggling in her seat, Y/N countered, “Well why do I need to go in the first place?”  Sighing, Carter wrapped his arms around his girlfriend, prompting her to lay her head on his chest, “Because it’s a celebration of the company’s accomplishment and I would really love for my inspiration and the love of my life to be there to celebrate it with me.” With his explanation, Y/N couldn’t really find a rebuttal to it, and he could sense that she had no answer so he inquired, “Why do you not want to go, love?” 

Tucking her head under his chin, Y/N then decided to unveil her reason, “I have nothing to wear.” Flabbergasted with that, Carter couldn’t help but ask, “What? Didn’t we go out shopping last week? Do you wanna go right now?” Y/N calmed Carter who was already making his way to stand up so he could get ready to go out. “It’s not that I don’t actually have clothes to wear; I do but,” She trailed off, not knowing how to properly say it. “But?” Carter wondered, and Y/n decided to just say it bluntly, “Nothing looks good on me.” Disbelief with just he heard, he looked at her as if he was expecting she would claim it was a joke; but upon seeing how she didn’t take back what she said, he then understood that she was indeed serious, “What do you mean nothing looks good on you?” Y/N then bit her lip nervously, Carter then pulled her lip and gently coaxed her to explain. “I was trying on the clothes we bought, and just nothing looked good on me. I mean, they’re pretty dresses so I figured maybe it was me who’s the problem. Like I can’t give justice to the dress.” Baffled with what she was saying, Carter put both his hands on her cheeks, making Y/N face his serious face, “Baby, that’s got to be the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard; and I went to a private highschool full of privileged fucks. I think what you really mean is that all the dresses we bought don’t compliment your assets properly,” Seeing her shrug nonchalantly signified how he was getting through her, “And honestly? You can come up to the gala in just your pajamas and still look drop dead gorgeous.”

“Is there any way I can not go on Sunday?” Y/N ‘s small voice was barely above a whisper, but it didn’t fly past Ransom’s keen ear. Looking up from his phone, he looked down from where she laid on his lap, her eyes looking hopeful. “Why don’t you want to go?” This wasn’t the first time he brought her over to Harlan’s home and dined with his family. Granted, she was risking going inside a lion’s den and being devoured by the predators. “Because your family’s gonna be there and we both know how disastrous these gatherings can be,” Though she made a point, both the trust fund son and his girlfriend knew that was a lame excuse to forfeit from the gathering. “Baby, you and I both know you handle these gatherings well;  remember what happened when you told Walt off?”

Upon bringing up the instance where Walt had made an off-handed and misogynistic comment to which didn’t sit well with Y/N, resulting in her lecturing him about why his statement was problematic, the girl could only scrunch her face up. “It’s because of that I don’t want to go,” she mumbled quietly. But if there was one thing Ransom learned and developed after dating her for so long, it was to listen carefully to every sound she made for it all meant something. “I may not have heard what you said clearly, but I know that you said something. So better speak up, princess and tell me what it is about this Sunday’s dinner that makes you not want to go.” Y/N knew there was no way they could drop this subject since Ransom had set his phone down and looked at her seriously. She then covered her eyes with her hands as she confessed, “I just heard about Walt and Linda talk about how they never wanted someone like me for you.” With that revelation, Ransom round himself agitated and infuriated with how his family members had the balls to comment on his love life that made him very much happy. Letting the back of his knuckles caress her cheek he consoled her, “Just so you know, my family can eat shit for thinking that they can give nasty and irrelevant comments about what makes me happy. You make me happy and love me despite my spoiled ass. If anything it’s me who doesn’t deserve to be with someone as amazing as you are.”

[xreaderbooks]

Letting go

Pair: Luke Patterson x Ghost! reader, Platonic! Willie x reader, Platonic! Alex x reader

Warnings: Death and mentions of suicide, drug abuse, kinda angsty 

Word Count: 2k

For ages 18+

A/N: This is overall pretty depressing and it's not exactly a happy ending, I wrote this based off the song Out of love by Alessia Cara. Its not my best work but either way I hope you enjoy. 

Disclaimer: Gifs are not mine

Masterlist

You knew this day would come. You don't know how many times you've called yourself stupid and cursed yourself. He liked her possibly even loved her by now. You were a fool for thinking that just because you found each other in this new version of life, that he could love you the same as he did before. Just because you were together before you died doesn't mean that you could have a life together after death. No matter how much you were still deeply enamored with him. Him and his stupid bright smile, his laugh that was contagious, his chocolate hair that you loved to run your hands through in the middle of cuddling. The calming feeling it gave you both, would it still have that same affect if you tried it now? Let's not mention his eyes. Oh, his eyes. The big green eyes that made him look like a puppy, so pure and innocent, it also held pain that you both would share at times. You both coming from families who had expectations. Expectations that neither of you could hold up. His eyes gave you hope, and butterflies and love.

They still did, he still did. He still had his optimism; although you could tell it was forced. it was the same thing he always tried to do. He was always the one to brighten peoples day and be the strong optimistic one when the others (and even himself) weren't. Either way he was still that same character he always was. And you were still deeply, unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him. You think you always would be.

Despite the new changes of your relationship. Or change. That change being Julie Molina. You saw the way that Luke had looked at her, praised her and her voice. You couldn't hate her for it. It would've been easier to hate her if she was a bitch, you couldn't lie, however she wasn't. She was loyal, caring and determined. She was strong and beautiful and exactly the type of person Luke needed. You were friends with Julie and you cared for her. So, no, you couldn't hate her. It wasn't her fault you changed and was no longer what he wanted. She was not responsible for your insecurities or feelings that you still held for Luke or the feelings that he held for her.

You decided you would let him go. You would let him go because your time with him was over. You were no longer what he needed nor what he wanted and that was okay because you would let him go.

You died a couple of months after the guys did. It was a drug overdose. After the Luke, Alex and Reggie's passing, you got into some pretty bad habits. Such as partying, alcoholism and your cause of death; drugs. It was not great.

The week of your death was rough. You were cleaning your closet after weeks of not doing so, you were gonna make a change, you would do better. That was until you found multiple shirts of Lukes laying about your closet, they were hidden underneath all of your other clothes that were piled up in there. In one particular jacket you found a note in the pocket. 'Can't wait for you to hear the surprise I have for you after the show beautiful ;)' After reading the barely legible note , you broke. You had suspicions he was writing a song about you, he was hinting at it before... and now this confirmed it. You would've gone looking for his notebook if it wasn't for Bobby who when you told him, brushed you off and took you out to distract you. That was when you were introduced to some guy who Bobby told you; had 'the good stuff'. You shrugged it off and took whatever he gave you. Turns out you took too much in so little time and you were dead.

After accepting the fact that you were dead, you wandered around 'life' hoping you'd find your lover and best friends. That day didn't come and you found yourself befriending another ghost named Willie. He was kind enough to show you the perks of being, well, dead. He even tried to introduce you to Caleb and that whole world but you decided you were out before you were even in. You had felt enough bad vibes from Caleb to know not to get involved with him. If only you had those survival instincts when you were alive.

Then it was 25 years of being a ghost and Willie had came to hang out with you in your favorite spot that you now called your home, a beach house that some rich family used as their Summer home.

"Hey Y/N, made a new friend today." He said skating into the house. You walked out of one of the rooms while reading a book, not really paying attention to what he was saying. "Oh really? that's cool."

"Yeah his names Alex, said he was in a band." You froze and looked up at him as he skated and transported on top of the kitchen counter. 'No,' you thought. 'It couldn't be your Alex, could it?' There was no way, not after all these years, it doesn't make sense. There were also a million different guys named Alex in the world. 'But he said he was in a band.' Your mind raced through the different scenarios. If you were thinking logically it could be a coincidence and it'd be stupid to think there wouldn't be any other guys out there who was dead, in a band, and named Alex. When you put it like that...

"How'd he look like?" Willie looked confused when you asked but answered. "Blonde hair, blue eyes, kinda cute but I call dibs."

Your heart was pounding, if Alex was here that could mean that Luke might be with him. You managed to roll your eyes at his reclamation. "Yeah you can have him, but um, you think I can go with you next time you meet with him?"

He looked at you shocked, "Uh sure?" He came up to you holding a hand to your forehead as if checking your temperature. "Are you okay? Is the loneliness getting to you?" You pushed his hand away.

"I'm fine dummy."

He laughed. "I'm just saying you never wanna meet any of my friends."

"Yeah, cause you have so many." You said sarcastically and plopped down on the couch. Willie, as extra as he is, jumped over it to sit next to you.

"Not true I have-"

"Ghost club doesn't count, they're creepy and enslaved to Caleb." You opened your book and pretended to read while you thought of what you would do if it really was your Alex.

"Whatever, what made you all of a sudden decide to be social?"

You closed the book and crossed your legs. You decided to be honest with him. You already told him of how you died, how you had a boyfriend who also died along with your best friends. He tried to help you find them until you gave up. You didn't however go into detail about how they died or what they did. That just brought on too many memories. But now you decided it was time. So you told him everything.

~~~

You were anxious as you waited for Willie and Alex at a place where Willie likes to skate at. If it was your best friend Alex you wanted to talk to him in a private place not surrounded by people. Even though you were all ghosts and nobody could see you, it felt more special and less awkward with people potentially walking through you. But if it wasn't your Alex then you could just leave and let Willie enjoy his 'date' with the guy.

When they showed up you almost screamed. You were in shock, there he was, one of your best friends. Probably the one with the most brain cells. "Alex?" Although you already knew you called his name to catch his attention.

"Y/N?" He ran up to you and hugged you.

"Alex," You patted his back "can't- breath."

He let you go putting his hands on your shoulders and pushed you to arm length as he observed you, taking in your appearance. "Wait..." You saw his face fall from the wide smile to a solemn expression. "Oh Y/N/N."

"Yeah..." You rubbed your arms.

"How?" He asked. "You look just the same as you did back then."

You chuckled. "Well so do you."

"But wouldn't that mean that you-'

"Died around the same time you guys did? Yup."

"Again, how?" He pushed. "You didn't, y'know ki-"

"God, Alex no I didn't kill myself." You smacked his arms away and paced around. "It's a long story, one that I'd don't wanna tell three different times. Are Reggie and Luke with you?" You asked hopefully. And he shook his head. You sighed in relief. "Where are they?"

"C'mon I'll take you to them."

And he did.

When you showed up to Julies garage and saw Luke for the first time he stood still, staring in disbelief. Reggie was the first one to come up to you throwing his arms around you and jumping excitedly. Once you managed to get Reggie off you, you went up to Luke "Hey baby." Tears were forming in your eyes. He pulled you into your third hug today, then pulling back, kissing you quickly and pulling you in again.

~~~

The bliss of being reunited only lasted so long before the band got caught up in performing in their new band Julie and the phantoms. You were glad that they were happy and that they had something that motivated them. And that all this time they were together. They even made friends, with a lifer, something you couldn't wrap your head around but you were happy for them. For a time you were happy with them. You were back with you best friends and you made new ones. You and Luke had a bit of a complicated relationship, you acted like you had always acted, of course things were different but you still talked like a couple. You acted like couple. Kisses were another story, it wasn't casual anymore it was when it was needed. It wasn't like before where if you would go somewhere or show up, you would give Luke a quick kiss goodbye or hello. Now it was more in the moment when you guys cuddled and you would look at each other and remember the memories of the past; of when you were alive and planning a life together. Your relationship wasn't what it was before but you would take it. After years of being alone -- with the exception of willie-- you would take those moments that you didn't feel were given 100% fueled with romantic and passionate love but with something different.

That was until the whole situation with Caleb happened and Luke and Julie hugged. They touched, how that happened you didn't know. What you did know is they were connected and they had chemistry. It was a hug, you internally rolled your eyes at your childishness. Technically you would've been an adult by now. Why were you worrying about your boyfriend hugging his friend after a situation where you all thought you'd be separated forever.

Maybe it was because you knew it meant more. The way they were holding each other wasn't how he held you the first time you saw each other again. You tried to brush it off, blaming it on you being insecure, it meant nothing.

Weeks had passed and nothing had changed besides the obvious tension and chemistry that Julie and Luke had. That was when you made the choice to let him go. You had nothing to offer him. If you were to get into technicalities Luke couldn't offer Julie anything, he was dead and she was still living. However they would have some time together and they had the band!

You did what you thought was best and you left a note on Julies piano along with with the note you found in Luke's pocket before you died. You always carried it around but there was no point in holding on to something that wasn't gonna be yours anymore. You would be in your beach house, where if they wanted to find you they could. For now you would let him go.

[grimmseye]

Tandem

Read on Ao3 Here

Rating: Gen

Fandom: She-ra

Relationships: Hordak & Entrapta, Hordak/Entrapta (pre-relationship

Chapter Characters: Hordak, Entrapta

Chapter Tags/Warnings: This is just 1500+ words of Hordak’s thoughts about Entrapta, Pre-Season 2

(Disclaimer: remember that Hordak is both an imperial soldier and a cult survivor. This is also before he and Entrapta have really started building their relationship. His narration is told through that lens. )

— — — — — — — —

Years of sifting through the Horde’s administrative detritus had not made the job any more bearable for him. Even when Shadow Weaver had been keeping operations smooth, there was a certain portion of work that had to fall on his head, plans and projects needing review before they could be dismissed or approved of.

It was aggravating work, with one new exception. When he reached the file with telltale oil smudges on it, he could already feel the weight of his armor ease. There was a quickness to his movements as he flipped the file open — certainly not eagerness, but anticipation. For once, the weight of the file pleased him rather than had Hordak biting back groans.

Entrapta’s projects were the only things that brought him any mental stimulation these days. He took a cursory flip through the first packet, ears perking as he spotted the first draft of her blueprints. For once, she wasn’t offering new weapons to deploy, but rather a more espionage-focused design: something small that could scope out their targets before they sent any troops to seize new territory.

It was delicate work, and deeply time consuming. He settled in to read in more detail, making a note to himself to grant her a more direct line of contact to him. From now on, Entrapta’s projects should be sent through communication pads, to be vetted by the only person in the Fright Zone who could offer worthwhile criticism. Two pages in, he could tell notes from those who had reviewed it before were utterly worthless, all questions and conjecture with no understanding of what it was that they demanded. It was worthless to insist she work faster if there wasn’t a method to do so.

There was one, potentially, but not a single of the previous readers had mentioned it.

Hordak created a document on his communications pad and set a stylus to the screen. He got several lines into his writing before he had to stop, giving a faint sneer. His armor weighed his limbs, making his writing sloppy, and regardless...

He tapped his nails along the edge of his throne. As excellent as Entrapta’s reports were, she did not receive the same work with enthusiasm. Audio recordings were her preferred means of reference if he recalled correctly, remembering a delay in her work when she'd first began working on his bots. When he'd inquired about it, she'd mentioned something along the lines of struggling to digest the information. A vocal repetition and a recording of the instructions had been enough to get her back on schedule.

A moment’s deliberation sent to the security feeds, ensuring Entrapta was in her lab before he flicked on a monitor. Through his screen, it gave an overhead of Entrapta at her workbench, looking to be setting up to get to work. Good. He wouldn’t be able to interrupt her if she were doing something delicate.

He lifted his chin before announcing himself with a call of, “Princess Entrapta.”

She straightened up at once, head swiveling before she caught sight of the monitor, gawking for a moment before breaking into a smile and calling out, “Hello!”

She’d forgotten to bow. Again. He pushed a breath through his teeth, finding that the urge to demand proper respect felt oddly diluted for Entrapta. Whether or not she bowed had yet to compromise her work. Instead he skipped to the point: “I received your newest blueprints. The design is promising, if… inefficient.”

Entrapta clapped her hands together, looking excited before the words caught up with her. “Oh, I know. I’ll need to develop a prototype to get a real sense of what materials I’ll need and how much time it’ll take —” As she spoke, her words grew quick, almost snappish. “— But right now the estimated time per drone is much longer than I’d like, let alone viable for regular use.” Her hair frizzed out, bristling not unlike a cat’s. A clear sign of displeasure.

He lingered in that for a moment, then spoke. “I have a suggestion,” He said, appreciating how she perked up at once. It was gratifying to work with someone who knew what they were doing, and even understood what he was doing — at least as far as an upbringing on this planet allowed. “There is a synthetic compound we produce here in the Fright Zone that may work as a substitute for what you intend to use: adamantine. It should have the strength to support this device even in sheer pieces.”

She listened to him speak, interrupting only once to ask if she could run a recorder. Once again, he found satisfaction in that. He rarely had trouble with being listened to — with the exception of Entrapta, all knew to bow in his presence, to not speak while he was speaking. He had fear, and respect, and obedience, he had created a facsimile of the true Horde, successful in his emulation of Horde Prime. And yet, while Princess Entrapta did not fear him or even always obey him, she heard him in a way no other creature on Etheria had before. She challenged him, even, and as irritating as her insubordination could be, there was value in an alternative perspective.

Truly, she was impressive. Despite being a princess, Entrapta had taken well to life in the Fright Zone. Everything he knew of the Etherian princesses suggested inordinate wealth and luxury that would not lend itself to the Horde’s lifestyle. The primary kingdoms were disorganized and self-serving, lacking unity and loyalty to any but themselves, excising that which they found displeasing and then stuffing their castles with unneeded opulence. Here, closest thing to luxury Entrapta had been provided was her own room, something all ranking officers were granted. And yet he’d heard none of the anticipated whining, just a snippet of her voice from Imp about the brown nutrition bars being unfavorable in texture, even once cut into smaller cubes.

He wasn’t sure he could count her among the ranks of the princesses at all, and that was entirely favorable. Dryl had such organization and stability that even in their princess’ absence, the small nation ran like clockwork. It seemed almost entirely self-sufficient, and what necessary trade was denied to them after allying with the Horde could be supplemented.

Again, he berated himself for not considering Dryl’s value. It seemed that like the other nations of this planet, he’d vastly underestimated its value, and Princess Entrapta’s value most of all.

At some point, their conversation drifted off track, to the materials Dryl itself mined and then stories of what Entrapta had found beneath the earth, the First Ones’ tech she was so enamored with.

“Their power sources are more efficient than any Etherian technology I’ve seen,” Entrapta breathed, her chin cupped in her hands. “One crystal,” she framed her thumb and forefinger approximately an inch apart, “could have enough energy to fuel one of your Skiffs for a full day of flight, longer if you stop to let it replenish — because that’s what makes them so amazing, they don’t run out of power. I think eventually they might exhaust their capability for storage but I have yet to prove it, but in the meantime they seem endlessly capable of recharging their own energy, potentially by harnessing the latent magic in Etheria’s atmosphere.”

Sometimes it could become difficult to keep up with the pace of her voice, when her words began to run into one another and she took great gasps as she ran out of breath. And yet, the subject held his attention, ears perked forward with fascination.

“If we were able to collect such crystals…” Even that much energy would be insufficient for his portal machine, but to collect a great quantity —

“That’s the trouble,” Entrapta sighed, deflating. “I’ve rarely found these crystals intact.”

Disappointment weighed heavy in Hordak’s chest, then curled into anger. He’d hardly known about it for a moment, and already his hope —

He slammed his fist down on his throne. Hordak glanced at the clock, realizing half an hour had slid by without his noticing. This entire thing had been — “A waste of my time.”

“I disagree!” Entrapta’s rebuttal made his eyes narrow. Still, he knew to listen to his officers when they spoke — even to Shadow Weaver, who had to walk through elaborate metaphors and tangents before she ever got to the point. Though perhaps he should have listened less to her. The very premise of her arrival should have served a warning — seeking revenge did not sow loyalty.

Unlike Entrapta, who worked for her discoveries, for possibility rather than vengeance on the fools who had left her for dead.

So he did not silence her as she continued, “Your input was quite valuable! If you could have some of that material sent to my lab, I’ll be sure to attempt a prototype using it and see if it will be a good substitute.”

His ears relaxed from their flattened position. Hordak glanced away from the screen for just a moment, taking a breath to calm his frustrations. “Of course. I will see it is done.” He hesitated for just a moment before saying, “That is all. You are dismissed, Princess Entrapta.”

“Okay!” She smiled. “It was nice talking with you! We should do this again!”

His finger hesitated over a button. Hordak inclined his head, half of a nod before he ended the transmission.

The quiet that followed left him with a strange feeling: reluctance to continue his work, the want to shift it aside and perhaps pull up his records on Dryl to read more on what Entrapta had told him. Instead he took his pad, putting in two orders: one to deliver a shipment of adamantine to Entrapta’s lab, the other opening a direct line to her own communicator.

Just in case she wanted to consult his opinion once again.

[princess-havok]

Love Fast Los Angeles Read-Through: Chapters 1-6 (pg 18-56)

I meant to write this up last night to post today but then I ended up busier than anticipated and didn't actually finish reading the section til like 11:30 and then I couldn't be bothered. Whatever, I don't have a schedule, you're not my real dad!

Anyway, the first 6 chapters of this wild fucking book: let's talk about them.

We pick up in chapter 1 with Al having been in Hollywood for almost a year, first working as a paparazzo and then starting his own gossip site fueled by his insider access to the Effs, the cast of a reality show called All Fs: Fierce, Fearless and Fucked-Up Females, aka Stella et al. I gotta say I am wildly uncomfortable when anyone uses "female" when they mean "woman" and I know it's technically correct but it activates my fight or flight response. But also I would watch the shit out of that show, I watched like every season of Jersey Shore, trashy reality is my jam.

Anyway, we pick up with Al at a party DJed by one of the Effs, The Barbie, which he's shooting. He's also absolutely enamored with another celebrity (?), Sky Monroe. It's not entirely clear what Sky does, but I think she might be internet famous, and Al is in love but also a terrible flirt. Like the third thing he says to her in his entire life is a marriage proposal and then offers to consummate that marriage at her leisure and it's truly awkward but also, way more charming coming from Al than it would be from, say, Score. I know I mentioned how deeply I love Al while reading Pop Kids and that hasn't changed. He's the best. His characterization is actually really in line with the pacing in this bit. I still think the Preface was insane with everything that happened in like 8 pages but here the fast pacing, the number of people he interacts with at this party, and everyone else is perfectly in sync with a) the fast pace of Hollywood and celebrity life and b) Al being really, really hyper and stoked on life.

Anyway, Sky is interested in being on Al's site (which is AlThisAndMore.com because of course it is, but also not a real domain and that bums me out, someone buy that up) to raise her profile since she's going to be in a movie. In the first piece of excellent satire in this book, it's a remake of a Japanese horror film -- and the original only came out last week. Beautiful touch. Love it.

Because Al can't shut the fuck up he reveals his plan to destroy James Shannon's life, and Sky is absolutely about to reveal something when they're interrupted by The Barbie shooting a pellet gun at Al and then everyone else in the club, because she's just Like That, and it's a Thing.

So Sky and Al make a quick exit to the ladies' room with Sky's entourage (two I presume drag queens Al calls 'The Trueblood' and 'The Unicorn,' or 'The Mythicals' collectively. They talk about featuring Sky in his site, nothing scandalous, and all the while the Mythicals are cutting lines of coke on the counter.

Al keeps trying to flirt as one of the Mythicals writes a note and Sky's number on a gum wrapper, and when Al makes a comment to Sky about what the gum (that she's chewing) tastes like, so The Unicorn kisses him, hands him the note and says "Follow us and be fast" and like, who was this all for? What's with the covert spy shit? They're the only people in the bathroom. Just... give him your number and say follow us. This is so weird.

On the way out of the club, one of the paps outside asks Al if he's seen James Shannon, who supposedly came to the club to meet Sky. Taking a page right out of the Score Massi 'My Dream Girl Has Done Nothing Wrong Ever In Her Life' playbook, Al denies it, saying she wouldn't be caught dead with him.

We'll see how that turns out for him.

Speaking of Score, it's briefly mentioned but he was at the party, and now Al goes to meet him at a diner. I'm not sure when this plan to meet up happened since I thought he was about to go follow Sky somewhere, but... alright.

Seeing Score through someone's eyes other than his own is...a trip. 17-year-old Score in Pop Kids thought he was the absolute shit. I'm sure 20-something Score does too, but seen through Al's eyes, he's just kinda sad, y'know? He's got like 4 different phones to keep up with lord knows what, everywhere he goes it's to be seen, and he's broke as fuck but just gets expensive shit for free because he has a large following online. He's absolutely an influencer who thinks he's the shit, but he's kind of just a nobody. He's still with Stella, but she is also seeing other people so he's effectively homeless when she has another guy over. He's still as obsessed with fame as ever. Also he isn't vegan anymore, even though he's the reason Al became vegan. Al looked up to him in high school, but it's very clear here: Al grew up (kinda), Score didn't.

They talk about Sky for a bit, and then about James Shannon, and we learn more about him: he was on a teen soap opera and then started a band, Drop Dead Gorgeous. At this point my money is on Jared Leto for inspiration behind this character, but also, Drop Dead Gorgeous is actually a band so this part tripped me up. I never listened to them but they were 100% part of that Warped Tour scene in the mid-00s during the height of AFI's popularity in that same scene and I feel like they must've crossed paths at some point, though to be fair it's impossible to give your fake band a name that has 100% guaranteed never been used by a real band ever. Anyway, the real Drop Dead Gorgeous had 6 members and four of them were named Daniel, and we just kinda let them.

Anyway, the last three chapters of this section are dedicated to the fact that Al apparently has a sugar daddy? We don't learn his real name, but it's an eccentric older man who helped Al out when his motorcycle broke down, bought him his car, and lets him stay in his poolhouse whenever he wants (and according to Score, gets off on Al watching him jerk off, so... yeah). Al calls him Uncle Noah and calls his house The Ark because of all the exotic animals he has living, there, including several kinkajous -- one of whom dies of a coke overdose while Al is there, because that's the kind of house Uncle Noah has. Also he's insane, and Al is constantly rebuffing his advances but he still gives him money. It's very well written as being a really creepy situation but one that Al goes along with because he needs the money. When in the shit is someone gonna help my boy Alvin???

The next morning Uncle Noah insists on taking Al to brunch, where he runs into Sky again, and bails on Uncle Noah to go hang out with her. And thus ends chapter 6....

[revchainsaw]

Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind (1984)

Prayers and Salutations Cult Members! I am your mysterious minister Reverend Chainsaw and this is another nights revival service at the Cult Film Tent Revival. I bring you a special word tonight. Tonight's word is about a person who roamed the earth, in a time where people were backward and warlike. A leader emerged into a kingdom full of eschatological expectation. This leader came preaching peace, and was killed for the sins of the world, but was resurrected. In that resurrection a new hope was brought to the planet, and true healing through the power of love in the face of violence is made possible. I am talking of course about Princess Nausicaa from the Valley of the Wind.

The Message

Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is the film that put studio Ghibli and Hayoa Miyazaki on the map. No animated feature this grandiose and epic had been achieved by 1984, as much as Disney may beg to differ. The tale may be simple, and it may feel super 80s to us today, but Nausicaa is a masterpiece, and the fact that Howl's Moving Castle is brought up alongside Princess Mononoke and Spirited Away more often than Nausicaa is a farce and a tragedy.

The film takes place on a fantastic planet that seems to have suffered the ravages of an apocalyptic war. A war that involved gigantic warriors with powers so devastating they about made the entire planet inhospitable if not uninhabitable; save for a few areas. The fall out of this ancient war has left the earth in a state of repair, where the natural processes of a planet healing has creating giant toxic jungles.

Beyond these jungles lie two imperialistic factions, they seem almost to be city-states but it's not terribly clear. The Kingdom of Tolmekia, a militaristic proto-fascist society of almost Spartan sensibilities. Tolmekia is governed by the ambitious and cynical Princess Kushana, But I like to call her Furiosa. Just like Furiosa, Kushana is physically missing parts of herself, a visual metaphor for her metaphysical lacking and the parts of her humanity she has cut away. Kushana's world view is one of fear, a fear that can only be quelled by waging a genocidal campaign against her enemies.

Speaking of enemies, the Athens to Tolmekias Sparta would be the Pejite Kingdom. The Pejites might like to view themselves as simply responding to Tolmekian aggression, but the narrative of the film, and the story told quite visibly on the body of Kushana, is quite different. The Pejites are just as bloodthirsty if not more palettable in their approach, but like the Tolmekians, they believe only their own lives have any value. And thus, in this theatre of war, a Giant Warrior from the ages before is unearthed by the Pejite Kingdom, Stolen by the Tolmekians, before the forces of nature themselves, seem to conspire to drop the Giant Warriors "egg" right into the Valley of the Wind.

The Valley of the Wind is populated like the world of Avatar the Last Airbender, that is mostly of children and the elderly. The people of the Valley have been able to remain untouched by the ravages of war and the toxic jungles of the damaged world primarily due to geographic luck that's explained in minor exposition in the film. They are ruled by a King, and they are all deeply enamored by their beloved Princess Nausicaa.

Nausicaa is a gentle soul. She is kind to animals, she is empathetic, unreasonably patient, and bears pain and grief inflicted on her out of cruelty with a saintly understanding. She really is a thinly veiled Christ figure, scratch that. There is no veil. But she's also my favorite Christ figure. She does not preach a message, as much as she tries to save everyone from their own short sighted goals. She is not perfect, she does lash out and do some fantasy sword fight murder, but she regrets her actions so deeply that it seems to have played a part in motivating her to become even more compassionate and patient with the evils of the world.

Nausicaa discovers yet another plot by the Pejites, who are afraid of the possibility of the Tolmekians awakening the Giant Warrior, to use animal cruelty to enrage a group of almost invincible giant insects known as the Ohm. By luring the Ohm into the Valley of the Wind where the Tolmekians have become an occupying force, they hope to completely wipe out everything that threatens them. The Tolmekians DO awaken the Giant Warrior and pure pandemonium ensues. Nausicaa manages to save the Baby Ohm and calm the rage of the bloodthirsty Ohm swarm, and to defeat the warlike tendencies of both the Pejites and the Tolmekians. All the while fulfilling a prophecy fortold about a messianic savior figure called the Man in Blue.

Now that you have heard the Gospel of Nausicaa, please stand to receive The Benediction.

Best Character: Half a Person

Now that I've spent the better part of this review gushing about our Lord and savior Nausicaa. I have to admit, she's at times a bit too perfect, a bit too saccharin. Even her flaw, or her one weakness and her failing to be perfect, just adds to the perfection. I can't even say she never makes mistakes cuz she made one, and that's infuriating. It's even more infuriating that I still think she's a great character. Normally this kind of thing really kills a hero. Most Chosen Ones are the most boring and least likeable characters in their narratives. I don't know how Nausicaa avoids this trap, but she does. I'll have to do some meditating on that.

However, just like in your typical Chosen One fantasy narrative, the hero is a lot less fun than the villain. I'm going to say the best character in Nausicaa is Kushana. I want to be like Nausicaa, but I don't understand her. She's almost alien, even though we learn all about her. Kushana is mysterious, secretive, and enigmatic, yet I understand her. She barely has an arc, she doesn't really change. She's cold and cynical to the bone, but I don't need to see much of her situation to completely understand why she is the way she is. I usually hate totalitarian bad guys, but Kushana I like. Sue Me.

Also fun fact, did you that Nausicaa means 'Sinker of Ships'. That's kinda fun.

Best Scene: Spoiled for Choice

I'm going to be lazy and say take your pick. There is really not a bad seen in this movie. If the action isn't going, then there's intriguing dialogue. If there's no dialogue then you may be about to get hit with a forceful burst of whimsy. There's horror, there's swordfights and aerial dogfights. The only thing in Nausicaa I don't like to see, is the bloody tortured Ohm Baby. It's like a god damned Sarah Mclachlan commercial.

Best Creature: Foxy Shazam!

The Ohm are so simplistic yet so detailed. The number of eyes is alien, but the way they are used is expertly expressive. Who'd think you could get me to love what basically amounts to a silverfish with the intensity that I love a kitten. How did Miyazaki pull an Okja with a creature that should be haunting our dreams? I don't know.

And what about the Giant Warrior! If you are an Evangelion fan then you probably already know that Hideaki Anno designed and animated the melting goopy biomechanical beast. Surely a sight that would make both H.R. Giger and Clive Barker giddy with excitement. Just the image of the silhouettes marching amidst the desolation of the old world is burned into my brain.

So which of these is the best creature from Ghibli's first outing? It's fucking Teto. It was always gonna be Teto you idiot. Just look at Teto, he's adorable. He's too cute to exist. I'm so alone. I need a pet.

Best Character Design: Tolmekian Regalia

I originally included this category to talk some about Kushana, however, at that time I also thought I was going to say Nausicaa was the best character. I thought hard about deleting it, but I think it's a different category and you can't accuse me of playing favorites because my favorite character is clearly Teto. Just to keep it simple. It's the two costume shift from full military regalia in white and gold, to the one metal arm, warrior princess get up. It's a great costume and a great look. Get on this shit cosplay nerds. It's great for Cons in Canada, you have to think about layers, and you can't keep going as Mr. Plow. It's lazy.

Best Excuse to Talk About Patrick Stewart's Character: Lord Yupa

I just realized that I was about to write this whole review without talking about Lord Yupa. Lord Yupa is a sword saint and all around badass I think a lot of entertainment, especially in the west is lacking bad ass old men. Lord Yupa particularly shines in the early half of the film as a warrior and as a wise council to Nausicaa. If she's Jesus then Yupa is John the Baptist. He is also voiced by the elegant and eloquent Patrick Stewart. He also comes with 2 chocobos!

Worst Character: For Whom Asbel Tolls

This might also be the worst actor category as well. Actual Cannibal (haha meme) and actual monster (haha real life) Shia Labeouf doesn't so much act in the role as he read the lines and it was recorded. The good news it doesn't effect the film too much because Asbel is completely forgettable. He is a catalyst to some of the action, but besides that I don't really care for him.

Worst Aspect: To Be Fair ...

It would be unfair to completely ignore anything negative about Nausicaa. I have already mentioned in many places that there are some pretty corny, or pretty predictable tropes to this movie. But what I can't capture in words is exactly why it feels fresh when it's done in this movie. I suppose that's what makes it good. It's just so good that it's weak points are lifted up by it's strengths. Some people may bored of Nausicaa's unyielding goodness, or that she very rarely chooses to take action as much as she chases and pleads with her surroundings, but I mean, she does pay for that eventually. It's a fantasy story and it hits a lot of timeless themes that have been hit in stories for as long as human beings have been telling stories. Some people may feel that it doesn't do enough to stand out.

Summary

I have defined the S tier for myself as "near perfect and personal favorite" films. I like to think that Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is near perfect. Some may say that it looks like it might just be a personal favorite. In the case of Nausicaa, I'm having a very hard time telling the difference. I think it would be overly simple to claim that Nausicaa is just an ancient archetypal heroes journey with an 80s anime coat of paint. I think it's doing quite a few new and interesting things with that formula, those things are just playing out all around that narrative as opposed to being at it's center. For a first full length outing by the studio, you can really see Miyazaki's heart and the values he holds close to. I'll repeat myself so that we are completely clear on the matter. I think Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is a near perfect movie.

Overall Grade: S

[randomfandomimagine]

I Still Love You (Jaskier x Reader)

Characters: Jaskier, Geralt

Fandom: The Witcher

Tags: Angst, songfic

Warnings: Mentions of blood and injury

Word Count: 3k words

Requested by @caritobbg: Hello! Could you write a ficlet with Jaskier and a Fem!Reader where they are with Geralt in a tavern and, as she saw Jaskier flirt with other women, she was encouraged to sing a song that she would have written (it occurred to me Love of My Life by Queen) and then she runs from there to the woods when she finishes singing it and is attacked by a werewolf. Jaskier goes off to look for her alongside Geralt who was also concerned and had given his friend reasons to realize how she felt about him?❤️

A/N: This is angsty and bittersweet but I quite like how it turned out, hope you like it! 

Jaskier x Female Reader

_

Everything about him seemed absolutely flawless. You were so madly in love with Jaskier that you found even his flaws endearing. For this very reason, you couldn’t help staring at him and admiring his handsome face, and the way his soft brown hair fell over his piercing and beautiful ocean blue eyes, which fondly stared at you.

He seemed to have noticed you were quite absent, because he chuckled and tilted his head at you in an adorable way.

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” Jaskier asked you, gently nudging you and accompanying the gesture with a bright grin. “Are you tired, love?”

“A bit” You admitted, still lovingly staring at him. “Although it’s nothing that your company can’t fix”

“You’re such a flatterer” He fondly wrinkled his nose, leaning in to tap his finger against your nose. “As if your lovely company isn’t a blessing”

You stared at each other in silence for a moment. Seeing his bright grin stirred something within you, reminding you how beautiful it was and how smitten you were.

“If you don’t mind…” You started, trying to confess what had been eating you inside for such a long time. “I wanted to tell you something, Jaskier”

“I’m all ears, love” He absently leaned his shoulder against the wall, crossing his arms and intently listening to you. “What is it?”

“You may know already…” Although you nervously chuckled, you truly hoped he had noticed something. As perceptive as Jaskier could be, he seemed completely oblivious to the nature of your affections. “But the truth is I see you a certain way”

“Uh-huh… go on” He nodded his head, even if his eyes were now focused on something that seemed more interesting to him than you. “Sure, right…”

“I have stopped talking” You told him, even if you knew he wasn’t listening at all.

“You’re absolutely right, Y/N” Jaskier continued to nod his head as though he was catching every word you said, which he clearly wasn’t. “But if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to tend to”

Like moved by an invisible force, the bard quickly scurried off to the other end of the tavern. The murmur that surrounded you filled your quietness, though it was not enough to fill the true void of the silence.

Jaskier had found an attractive blond woman who he started enthusiastically talking to. The mere sight was too painful to stand and so you turned your head away.

He seemed to find her to be better company despite the fact that he had never seen her before. Somehow, she was more enticing than you even if you and Jaskier had known each other for so long now, even if you had traveled together and endured countless hardships with each other.

Your eyes suddenly stung with unshed tears. In an attempt to distract from that woe, you searched Geralt with your gaze. Soon you spotted him sitting at the table still, enjoying his solitude in peace as he calmly drank is ale. For the first time since you started traveling together, you understood why he isolated himself in such a way. It was the only way to avoid getting hurt.

With a will of their own, your eyes searched Jaskier once more. He was dedicating her that smile, the one he usually saved only for you. Or so you thought. You could have sworn you felt how your heart broke, as though it was made out of glass and it shattered into a million pieces, causing the shards to consume you from the inside. At the same time, however, a burning anger erupted inside you. Did he not see how much it hurt you? Did Jaskier not realize how deeply in love you were? Or did he just decide to ignore it and continue courting other women? Whatever the case, you were tired. Tired of waiting for him, of holding on to hope that he might reciprocate someday, that he could love you back.

Forgetting about the pain and trying to hold on to that anger, you walked directly towards him. Not paying mind to the woman he was so bluntly flirting with, you shoved him a little.

“Oi!” He complained, watching you up and down in a mixture between confusion and outrage. “What’s the matter with you, Y/N?”

“I’ll tell you in a way you can finally get it through your thick skull, bard” Even if you were still angry, your voice only held all that pain that you felt inside.

Jaskier frowned sadly, frozen in place even as you took the lute hanging from his back and claimed it as your own. You felt his eyes follow you as you adamantly stood on a table and began strumming the chords, gathering the attention from everyone at the tavern. Geralt’s golden eyes fell on you as well, and you paused as you exchanged a glance with him. Recognizing the resignation and empathy in his eyes, you continued on. Ready to finally pour your heart out to Jaskier, or at least what was left of it.

That song had been hidden for too long, locked in your heart and in your mind. You were never brave enough to bring it out into the world, especially not when the bearer of your affections was unbeknownst to it all. It had been a difficult decision, but you had chosen his definite friendship over a possible romance, but you couldn’t handle the consequences any longer. That romance would never exist. It was but a mirage, an impossible daydream.

Moved by the sorrow that made your chest hurt, you began singing the ballad you had composed, that one which so perfectly explained your feelings as he hadn’t been able to recognize them on his own.

Love of my life, you've hurt me You've broken my heart, and now you leave me

When your eyes met with Jaskier’s, a lump formed in your throat. His saddened frown had only deepened as he intently listened to your every sung word. His face, however, blurred as the tears inevitably arrived to your eyes. In spite of it all, you pushed through and carried on.

Love of my life, can't you see? Bring it back, bring it back, don't take it away from me Because you don't know what it means to me Love of my life, don't leave me You've taken my love, and now desert me

It all suddenly became too much. The song was interrupted by your strong sobs and you felt unable to continue. The world became a place too hard for such a hurt girl like you. Shaking your head, you jumped down the table and returned by his side. Your bottom lip trembled as you reached him, and yet you still tried to lift your chin up in pride.

For once, Jaskier was rendered speechless. He observed you in silence, and the distress in his beautiful lively blue eyes somehow was yet another blow to your bleeding heart.

“You’ve broken my heart” You repeated as though the song hadn’t ended, angrily pushing the lute against his chest and facing your back to him.

“Y/N… did you write that?” He finally asked once you did. When he realized you weren’t turning back to him, a sudden urgency arrived to his voice. “Wait, h-hang on!”

His heart wildly raced, bringing a dull ache to his chest with every beat. Jaskier felt guilty and stupid, having been too frivolous to truly understand. You had been trying to tell him something important, and he only got distracted by a pretty face. As if you weren’t beautiful and right in front of him all along.

He blindly followed after you, yet a strong had pushed against his chest to keep him in place. Jaskier tried to pass the witcher by, but Geralt was adamant on intercepting his friend.

“Leave her”

“N-No! She’s upset and-“

“She doesn’t want to talk to you right now, Jaskier”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you really that fucking stupid?”

“What?”

“You really didn’t realize her feelings?”

“Well, now I do… She was trying to tell me but-“

“She’s been trying to tell you ever since she joined us”

“Come now, Geralt… If I were to truly believe every woman I talk to is enamored with me…”

“Yes, but that one really loved you. And she just walked away”

Jaskier froze in place, quitting his attempts to go over the witcher’s block. He gulped, realizing the implications of what Geralt was saying. It made your behavior all the more understandable while at the same time all the more heartbreaking. And it was all his fault.

“Jask… you stupid, stupid man…” He chastised himself under his breath before looking back up to his friend. “We should go after her, should we not?”

Geralt’s expression suddenly shifted, from utterly annoyed to alert. The bard had seen that expression many times, and a nasty feeling arrived to the pit of his stomach.

“W-What?” He uttered in fright. “What is it?”

“The woods” Geralt clenched his jaw as he retrieved both his swords. “It’s filled with werewolves”

“Shit” Before the witcher could say anything else, Jaskier began running.

He ran outside of the tavern, leaving behind his long forgotten female companion. He ran like he had never run in his life, completely ignoring the way his heart hammered against his ribcage or the feeling of not having enough oxygen in his lungs to breathe. Jaskier run as though the most important person in his life was in danger, because she was.

Perhaps he had been too blind or too stupid to realize you were the person he cared for most, but you were. Perhaps he had been completely oblivious to the feelings you harbored for him, but you did nonetheless. And it was his reckless behavior that gave you such spite, caused by him, that threw you to venture into the lion’s den.

As he ran breathlessly, not caring to wait for Geralt, Jaskier realized… he would never forgive himself if something happened to his dear Y/N. _

By the time they arrived into the woods, it was nighttime. The pair had looked for you in many other places, being sure to check quickly in case the worst case scenario was the reality: you had ventured into the dangerous woods on your own, feeling sad and miserable and being more vulnerable to an attack.

Jaskier couldn’t breathe, he could not focus as his mind could only return to you. He heard it just as he immersed further into the woods, with Geralt closely following behind. A woman was screaming, and he shivered at the thought that it was his beloved Y/N, who was in deathly peril.

“Y/N!” The bard yelled back, already moving to go to your rescue.

“Jaskier” Geralt stopped him, pulling back at his doublet. “Wait”

“What?” The aforesaid replied in outrage. “Y/N is out there, probably scared out of her mind right now, and it is all my fault, and you want me to w-“

Another sound interrupted him, one that took his breath away. It had sounded like a wolf howling, but the bard had enough experience thanks to the witcher to realize it was no ordinary wolf. No, that sounded far too strange to be a normal creature.

“A werewolf” Geralt muttered, pulling out his silver sword.

“How can you be so sure?” Jaskier stuttered, intently looking at his friend.

With no need for words, the witcher only pointed a gloved finger upwards. Following that direction, Jaskier realized what he was saying. There was a full moon looming over them, magical and mysterious as well as intimidating, if not for herself, for the creatures that lurked in her name.

“I’ll get the werewolf” Geralt whispered, finally letting go of him. “You circle around it and find Y/N”

Determined, Jaskier nodded his head and stepped away from the place the howling sound had originated from. He was adamant on his mission, as finding you seemed the most important thing he would have to do in his life. He only prayed that you weren’t injured.

Searching for any signs of your presence, he moved slowly, too afraid to miss any of the signs that you might be close by. The dry leaves crunched beneath his boots, yet no sound seemed loud enough to overpower that of his racing heart and his erratic breathing. His hands nervously closed and opened as his fingers nervously fidgeted.

“No…” Jaskier suddenly felt dizzy when he spotted something crimson staining the leaves. “Y/N?”

They were only a few droplets of blood, but it was more than enough to have Jaskier stop in his tracks and bend over weakly. His stomach churned, his mind was racing with terrible thoughts of what could have happened to you.

“Y/N? God, I hope you’re alright” He whispered. “Where are you, love?”

Just as he took another step, something caught his attention. A whimpering noise sounded to his right, and so he didn’t think twice to head in that direction. What he found was a figure, huddled behind a tree trunk, hiding her face on her knees and bawling her eyes out.

“Y/N!” Jaskier threw himself to his knees, gently laying a hand atop your shoulder.

“No!” You moved away from his touch, waving your hands in the air as though trying to swat him off you. “Don’t hurt me, please!”

“It’s me! It’s me, love, it’s Jaskier!”

When you dared look up, he paused. You were still breathing rapidly, tears rolling down your cheeks as your bawling started coming to a halt.

“T-The werewolf!”

“It’s alright, Geralt’s gone and get it”

The air turned cold as you grew silent. Jaskier watched you in anguish, wanting to ask if you were alright but nearly fearing he had lost the right to even ask that. It was his fault that you were there on the first place. Bearing heavy thoughts of your own, you remained quiet. You locked eyes with Jaskier as contradictory feelings overwhelmed you.

Love of my life, can't you see? Bring it back, bring it back, don't take it away from me Because you don't know what it means to me You will remember, when this is blown over And everything's all by the way When I grow older, I will be there at your side To remind you how I still love you

Back, hurry back, please bring it back home to me Because you don't know what it means to me

“I’m sorry…” He whispered, even though his voice came out strangled and it was barely audible. “I’m so sorry, Y/N, I’m-“

Much to his astonishment, you threw yourself to him. Your arms urgently wrapped around his neck as you cowered into his shoulder. All possible unwell within you both seemed to vanish as you collided in an urgent embrace.

“Oh, thank the gods I found you…” Jaskier sighed in relief, cradling your head as he held you tightly against him. “Are you hurt? I saw…”

“It scratched me…” You pulled away, holding your arm up to show him the garments torn to shreds and the superficial wound still pouring blood. “But it didn’t bite me”

“Thank the heavens…” He embraced you again, being taken by such relief that he now experienced an entire different kind of dizziness as he gingerly pressed your frame against his chest. “I’m so sorry, love, none of this would have happened if I hadn’t been so bloody stupid”

You were silent as you let him hold you. While your fresh wound was a duller ache, your head hurt as your love for Jaskier as well as your resentment for his demeanor fought for dominance within you.

“You’re mad, aren’t you?” He uttered, knowing how to interpret your silence. “I don’t blame you, honestly, I would-“

“Now you know” You interrupted him, realizing he was about to ramble as he usually did. “What do you have to say about it?”

“Yes, it is absolutely my bad” Jaskier vehemently nodded his head. “Had I realized what your true feelings were, I could have saved you so much pain and… I suppose I just didn’t see the signs that you-“

“Jaskier” You only called him, bearing unshed tears in your glassy eyes.

“I don’t know” He honestly replied, feeling more genuine and vulnerable than you had ever seen him. “I don’t know if I love you back, I just know that I care about you”

“I still love you…” You stuttered, letting out a nervous chuckle to hide the fact that your tears had overflown and were now rolling down your face once more.

“And I… I love you too, but… I don’t know in which way I love you, I just know I was terrified out of my mind when you ran away” He sighed, passing a nervous hand through his thick brown hair. “I might realize I hold romantic feelings for you soon or I might not, but… I want you to know that you hold a special place in my heart one way or the other”

Not knowing what to do or say, you only nodded your head. Feeling uncomfortable, you instead tried to stand up and Jaskier didn’t lose one second to help you to your feet.

“I promise you one thing, though” He tenderly held your hand. “I won’t ever allow myself to hurt you like this ever again”

“Okay…” You could only mutter, still recovering from the pain that day held for you.

“Come here, love” Jaskier wrapped his arms around you a third time, this time never wanting to let you go. He clung on to you, just like you were. Perhaps you loved each other in different ways, and whether that would change or not, you had each other at the moment.

The bard looked up when he thought he heard something. In the distance, he spotted Geralt standing there, carrying the blood stained sword. The two looked at each other as they were facing one another, and nodded their heads. They didn’t say anything, only resigning themselves to the way things ended. There was nothing to say anymore after all.

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[muertawrites]

Aphrodite Kallipygos (Zuko x Plus Size Reader) [Modern AU]

Summary: Zuko takes up an art class as part of his therapy and ends up falling in love with a woman who’s a work of art in her own right.

Word Count: 3,500

Disclaimer: There’s a scene in this fic where a couple of thin girls engage in some rude behavior and are criticized in a few none-too-kind words. I want to make it very clear that this scene does not reflect my views of thin people or body positivity - these characters are meant to be a metaphor for greater culture and its strict, unrealistic views of what women should look like. 

Author’s Note: I hate rom coms but after writing this fic it dawned on me that I would be excellent at writing them. Also, this one goes out to all my art hoes out there. I geek out pretty hard about art history in this one. 

Speaking of which, I reference real-world cultures within the structure of the Avatar universe in this one as well. Something I like to do when I zone out is think about which actual countries would belong to which bending nations; my heritage is primarily from the British Isles, and what with liths like Stonehenge and the hella castles hanging around out there, I think we’d be earth benders - same with cultures like the ancient Egyptians and the Pueblos. I also love the idea of Pacific Islanders who can bend both water and lava, and Incan air benders, and I really wish the idea of global cultures as benders were explored more in the Avatar universe. 

Have I mentioned that I’m a massive fucking nerd?

~ Muerta

Zuko never considered himself much of a creative. When he thought about it, he realized that that part of his life had never really been explored; his father always pushed him to focus solely on his bending and combat skills, never allowing even the consideration of other practices or hobbies. As much as Zuko was passionate about the martial arts he'd mastered, he also came to learn that he never had a choice in being passionate about anything else. 

“I think you should take an art class,” his therapist suggested. “It would be a good outlet for you, and one that isn't directly influenced by your family.” 

“I don't think I've ever drawn anything, though,” Zuko admitted. “I wouldn't be any good.” 

“It's not about being good,” his therapist explained, “it's about exploring things that weren't available to you in your youth, freedom of expression. Consider it - there's a shop in this neighborhood that offers classes.” 

She handed him a business card adorned with an array of different art styles, from delicate watercolors to bright, bold cartoons; it read, “classes for everything” in a cheerful, clearface font.

Zuko shrugged and pocketed the card. A week later, he was enrolled in a basic studio art course. 

He arrived for his first class embarrassingly early, passing under the bell of the shop’s front door twenty minutes before it was scheduled to begin. 

The building that housed the shop looked to be older than the rest of the neighborhood around it; the storefront was tiny, with crowded shelves lining each wall and tables and racks wound throughout the center of the space, creating a maze that led to the checkout counter. The room’s ceilings were high, supported by beams in a dark stained wood that matched the floor below. Paper mache sculptures and handmade lanterns hung from the rafters, and the simple, antique plaster walls were decorated with paintings and sketches, likely given by the shop’s clientele. From somewhere in the back, a radio sang folk music, accompanied by the hum of an electric fan. 

Zuko wandered through the labyrinthine merchandise displays until he reached the register, where he was met with the single most beautiful sight he may have ever laid eyes on. 

You stood behind the counter, leaned over a textbook with a pencil in hand, tapping it back and forth over the pages; you bit your lip in concentration, a few strands of your hair falling loose from the messy knot atop your head and over your cheeks, though you were too focused on your reading to care. An apron bearing the shop’s logo was tied around your waist, emphasizing your body's dramatic curves. 

To Zuko, you were gorgeous. He couldn't place what exactly about you allured him; all he knew was that his pulse had quickened to a near dangerous pace. 

You looked up at him when you noticed you were no longer alone, flashing him a kind, somewhat distracted smile. He nodded curtly, too nervous to do anything but stare. 

“Can I help you?” you greeted him politely. 

He cleared his throat, his voice coming out a pitch higher than normal as he spoke. 

“I'm here for the art class,” he told you. 

You smirked a little, peering down to check the time on your phone. 

“It's a little early,” you said. “I was just about to start setting up. You could help me if you want? So you're not so bored while you wait?” 

“Yeah,” Zuko mumbled, “yeah, sure.” 

You grinned, waving him behind the counter and through a door to the back room. To his surprise, what he expected to be a minuscule stockroom turned out to be a space larger than the actual shop, lined on one wall with massive warehouse windows that poured late afternoon sunlight into the room. Metal shelves and boxes lay haphazardly about, mixed in with a scattering of easels, pottery spinners, canvases, and other art supplies. You directed your guest to a stack of chairs in the corner, instructing him to line them in a half circle in an empty portion of the room while you placed the easels. 

“So, do you have a name?” you asked, attempting to make conversation that could drown out the repetitive radio drone. 

“Zuko,” he introduced himself. 

You stopped what you were doing, fixing him with an awed, slightly amused gape. 

“Firelord Zuko?” you wondered. 

He blushed, nodding. 

“Oh spirits, I'm sorry I didn't bow!” you exclaimed, dropping into a low curtsy. The gesture was mixed with equal parts mirth and genuine respect; Zuko was unsure how to respond, his heart flickering as he watched you. 

“I heard you were living somewhere in the city,” you continued after making your own introduction, setting an easel in front of each chair he positioned. “Not into the whole royalty thing?” 

Zuko shrugged. He focused on his work, too nervous to look you in the eye. 

“Just weird going back there,” he told you. “I don't really want taxpayer money going to making sure I live above my means.” 

You leaned against the last chair he set down, smiling warmly at him. 

“That's very respectable,” you responded. “Thank you. Y’know, as someone who pays taxes.” 

Zuko chuckled softly as you handed him a bin of art supplies, instructing him to set one of each item at every station. He did as he was told, stealing glances at you whenever he was sure you weren’t looking. 

“So, uh… do you own this place?” he asked, fumbling over his words. 

“Oh, no, this is my professor’s shop,” you replied. “I just work here part time.” 

“You’re a student?” 

You shook your head. 

“Nope. Graduated last year. I work days at the history museum downtown. I also give art history classes here, and help out with the ones Professor Cong teaches.” 

“Oh.” 

Zuko paused, unsure of what else to say. 

“... They teach a different type of history just for art?” he asked after a moment. 

You laughed, covering your mouth to muffle the sound and apologizing, giving him a little nod as you collected yourself. 

“Yes. Some people even get whole degrees in it,” you giggled. “Not that it’s a useful field to learn anything about.” 

Zuko shrugged, trying to shake off the embarrassment of sounding stupid in front of such a cute girl; little did he know, you found the question beyond endearing. 

“It sounds important,” he contested. “I’ve been meeting historians from all over the world to correct all the propaganda from the past hundred years. It never occurred to me that I would need different historians for art.” 

You smiled at him, meeting him where he stood and handing him one of the sketch pads from your bin. His cheeks pinkened, his eyes darting away from yours as he took it and mumbled a “thank you”. 

“I like you, Firelord Zuko,” you decided aloud. “My classes are on Wednesdays. You can come if you want - free of charge.” 

Zuko nodded, swallowing heavily as he met your gaze once again. 

“Thank you,” he replied. “I appreciate it.” 

You laughed a little bit, taking his now empty bin and returning both to their place on a nearby shelf. The shop’s bell rang from beyond the threshold and you went back to the front counter, telling Zuko to take a spot wherever he liked. He sat in the front row; wherever he thought he could be closest to you. 

For the next five weeks, Zuko attended not only his studio art class, but your art history class, showing up early to each lesson so he could spend time alone with you. Despite the fact that you invited him to sit in, he paid the fee for the second course, not wanting you to go without the extra pay for your work - he found a doodle of a turtle duck on his seat the next time he showed up, the fuzzy little penciled duckling telling him he was a terrible listener, but thanking him anyway (with a heart scribbled in beside the words). 

With your guidance, Zuko learned that there was much more to art than just vibrant colors and pretty decoration. Everything in art, it turned out, had significance, each piece and work holding insight into the people and cultures who created it; you spoke passionately about the art of the Egyptians, who used specific shapes and colors in their imagery to tell stories beyond the written word, about the mysteries of prehistoric structures that revealed how early humanity was much more sophisticated and interconnected than considered at a glance, about the symbols that translated and influenced across centuries to shape how each nation, each culture, portrayed themselves into the modern world. He found himself hanging on every word, falling even more deeply enamored with you with each moment he spent with you. 

It didn’t take you long - what with the easy, pleasant conversations you shared before classes - to discover that Zuko lived relatively close to you, only two stops away on the local metro. Knowing this, you often saw each other on the days you weren't at the shop, meeting at the station between each of your respective neighborhoods and having coffee or dinner in one of its many cafes, talking about anything and everything and managing to pass several hours together in what seemed like the blink of an eye. You loved being with Zuko, finding the more you did it, the less you wanted your rendezvous to end; you thought about him all the time, getting all kinds of giddy whenever he crossed your mind. 

On one of your extracurricular excursions, you and Zuko wandered around the local high street, marveling at the different streetside vendors and dreamily window shopping behind the glass of the upscale boutiques, doing little more than enjoying each other’s company. It was a hot day, and along your way, Zuko stopped at a coffee stand to get you each something cold to drink. 

A pretty young woman in line in front of you eyed you up and down, her gaze flicking from between you and Zuko with disgust. She jabbed her slim, graceful elbow into her equally as flawless friend’s side, whispering something in the other woman’s ear as they both glared at you, sniggering cruelly behind flat stomachs and angular, willowy frames. 

You sneered at them, making a point of hooking your arm within Zuko’s and pressing your much wider hip against his, the poison of the encounter sinking into your skin and infecting your thoughts. Zuko noticed your change in demeanor immediately, steering you away from the scene as soon as your drinks were served. 

“You okay?” he asked, still holding tight to your arm. 

“Fine,” you quipped, biting back tears. “Just a couple of pretty bitches proving how fucking hideous they are on the inside.” 

“Wait, seriously?” 

Zuko halted, pulling you to the side of the street and out of the way of traffic. He lay a hand on your shoulder, the firm, able grasp of his palm somehow making you feel even worse. 

“Someone would really make fun of you?” he wondered, outraged and incredulous. “Why?” 

You shook your head, smiling defeatedly as your lower lip quivered. 

“People have made fun of me since I was a kid, Zu,” you told him, speaking as if he should’ve just assumed it. “I’m fat. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” 

“So?” Zuko replied. You were so shocked, you physically leaned away from him, raising your eyebrows. “Yeah, you’re fat. That doesn’t mean you’re not pretty. I… I think you’re really pretty. Gorgeous, even. You’re beautiful.” 

You blinked at him, taken aback. He gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, his eyes never once leaving yours. 

“... Did I break you?” he tried after a moment, sounding concerned that it was a genuine possibility. 

You laughed, shaking your head in feverish disbelief, attempting to clear the confusion that fogged your battered brain. 

“No, I just… Nobody’s ever called me pretty and fat before.” 

Zuko shrugged. 

“Both are true,” he told you. “I like your body. You look like one of those Greek sculptures. Of the goddesses.” 

You stared at him, searching his eyes for any sign of dishonesty or patronization; all you found looking back at you was the clumsily genuine man you were quickly falling in love with. 

“... Have I ever told you about Aphrodite Kallipygos?” you asked. 

Zuko shook his head, as confused as you had been a few seconds ago. 

“She’s a statue of Venus,” you explained. “She’s got her dress raised up over her backside, and when they found her originally, she didn’t have her head; the guy who restored her sculpted it so that she was looking back at herself, admiring her body. There’s even a whole folktale about a pair of brothers who fell in love with two women because they had, like, beautifully fat asses and the town built a temple dedicated to Venus and her butt. The name literally translates to ‘Aphrodite of the Beautiful Buttocks’.” 

Zuko chuckled, raising the hand at your shoulder to cup your cheek. 

“See?” he said. “Men have worshiped thick, juicy butts since the dawn of time!” 

You laughed, your cheeks turning bright red as you buried your face in your hands, leaning forward to rest your forehead on his chest and further hide yourself. 

“Zuko, oh my god,” you breathed. “Promise me you’ll never say that out loud in a public setting ever again, please. You’re the fucking Firelord for Tui’s sake.” 

Zuko chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and hugging you tightly. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, still grinning. “Made you feel better, though.” 

You pulled away from him, affectionately punching him in the shoulder. He laughed, gasping at you in mock reproach before pressing a finger into your side, shocking you with a burst of static electricity; you cackled as you jumped away, sticking your tongue out at him. 

Zuko felt a rush of lightheadedness as he watched you, savoring the sound of your laugh and the radiance of your smile. It was then he realized he was in love with you. 

The next studio art class focused on model drawing - more specifically, a nude model. Zuko, having been raised in what was arguably the most reserved family in the world, was nervous about the idea of having to sit in front of a stranger for an hour, not only staring at their naked body, but immortalizing it in graphite on a page. 

He was mortified when he arrived at the class and found you sitting in the corner, wrapped in nothing but a silk dressing gown. 

As you climbed the platform you were meant to model on, your limbs rattled. You began to question your sanity, wondering what you thought you were doing offering to pose for the class, what kind of statement you thought it would make. You faced enough judgement from others about your weight with your clothes on - what the hell did you think they would do when you stood before them completely naked, every bump and crevice on full display for them to gawk at and criticize?

You glanced to the side at Professor Cong, seeking some sort of assurance or comfort from him; he, being the seasoned professional in his mid-sixties that he was, sat reclined in a chair in his Hawaiian shirt and flip flops, scrolling totally undisturbed through Pinterest on his phone. Honestly, you expected no less - his obtuse reactions in the face of the awkward and uncomfortable were basically a superpower. 

Taking a deep breath, you untied the knot holding your dressing gown together and let it fall, slipping gracefully from your shoulders and to the floor. You assumed a comfortable, classic pose, purposely facing yourself away from the man whose eyes you could feel searing into your back. 

Zuko’s breath hitched as he watched you undress. Though he only saw the full of your body for a moment, he was captivated. The swell of your breasts and curve of your stomach sent him into a dizzy spell, his mouth going dry and his skin heating with a noticeable flush. The rolls of your back, the ripples and divots along your thighs and rump, the stripes etched into your skin like the veins through a granite block, he drank in every part of you, moulding every detail with a focused hand as he sketched. He made note every scar and beauty mark. Once or twice, his mind drifted towards the salacious, imagining how your body would feel beneath his, soft and supple, releasing exalted breaths and enraptured moans, your nails dragging down his back as he drove you closer and closer to infinity… 

He inhaled sharply, snapping himself back to his work. You were Venus, Minerva, Diana - a goddess among men. He would gladly spend the rest of his life worshiping you. 

The moment the class ended, you gathered your dressing gown and made a beeline for the employee bathroom, getting back into your clothes as quickly as you could physically manage. The experience of nude modeling wasn’t nearly as harrowing as you expected it to be; you actually found it kind of freeing, being able to show yourself to a room full of other people and come out of it unscathed, in fact feeling quite beautiful - what had you nervous was the fact that you’d have to face Zuko immediately after the fact, seeing as you took the train home together after classes. His was the only opinion you cared about, and you wanted nothing more than to convince yourself that he hadn’t judged you as harshly as the self-hatred brainwashed into you made you believe. 

When you emerged from the bathroom, Professor Cong stood in front of one of the empty easels in the back, smirking at the drawing the student had left there. 

“Your boyfriend left you his piece,” he teased. 

You blushed, glaring at him as you approached and snatched the sketch from his hands. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you tried in vain to defend yourself. 

Professor Cong just chuckled. 

“I’ll believe that when I see evidence to the contrary,” he replied. 

You looked down at the paper in your hand and felt the breath drain from your lungs, your heart and stomach soaring into your throat. 

Zuko had drawn you in the image of Venus, your body draped in gossamer fabric and your head turned over your shoulder, eyes cast downward and lips slightly parted in a blissful, ethereal expression. In the corner of the page, he’d written “Aphrodite Kallipygos” in his sweeping handsome script, beneath which was his signature and the date. You’d never once seen yourself look so beautiful, let alone in the eyes of someone you loved so fiercely. 

You swallowed hard, rolling the drawing and securing it with a hair tie from your bag before exiting the shop through the back, knowing Zuko would be in the alley waiting for you. 

“Hey,” he greeted you when you appeared through the storeroom door. “Are you okay? You looked really ner-” 

You interrupted him by throwing your arms around his neck, slamming your lips into his in a desirous kiss. It took him less than a second to recover himself from the shock of the action and curl his arms around your waist, pressing his body against yours and lifting you every so slightly off the ground, kissing you just as hard as you kissed him. When you parted, you were breathless, your cheeks fiery red and your lips swollen the color of vermilion. Zuko smiled at you, one side of his mouth curling up slightly higher than the other. 

“So you liked it?” he asked. 

You laughed, nodding. 

“Zuko, I loved it,” you gasped. “I love you. I think I loved you as soon as I met you but that sort of thing is really cliche and stupid to admit.” 

Zuko chuckled, raising his hand to your cheek and kissing you again, his lips soft and tender this time around. You sighed happily into his mouth, closing your eyes and losing yourself in the feeling of his body sharing the same space as yours. 

“I think I loved you the moment I met you, too,” Zuko confessed, his nose grazing against yours as he pulled away. “But you’re right. That sort of thing is really stupid and cliche.” 

You giggled, tugging gently on the collar of his jacket. 

“Come on,” you prompted him. “Let’s go back to my apartment. You’ve already seen me naked; we need to make it even.” 

Zuko laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leading you out of the alley, his side pressed firmly against yours. 

“Fair,” he agreed. “But if you want me to pose for any art, you’ll have to sign some paperwork. I’m still Firelord, you know.” 

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[sebsmetal-arm]

Queen of Everything || Steamy JudeCardan

Disclaimer: These characters and world are the sole intellectual property of Holly Black. I claim no right to this property, this is a work of fan fiction. Any use of known quotes are there as a purposeful callback. I tried my best to stay true to Holly’s writing style and characterization but any difference in character aspects or dialogue is intentional. Please do not copy or repost my work. Hope you enjoy! 

This work is NSFW!! This will also be posted to my Ao3 (sebsmetalarm) and my Wattpad (writingsinspiredby). Inspired by an art piece by honey.and.velvet on IG.

Vivienne,

     I hope you and Heather are well. I’m writing to inform you that Cardan and I will be visiting again at the next full moon. He keeps insisting that we should visit regularly, especially now with so much of our family gone from Elfhame. Although, If I’m being honest, I think he just enjoyed himself during our last visit more than he’s willing to let on. 

     I asked Taryn if she wanted to accompany us, but now that she is farther along she doesn’t want to risk traveling. She sends her love.

See you soon.

Jude

I drop my quill into the inkpot with a sigh, leaning back into the ornate desk chair. I know the sun is likely preparing to peek over the horizon to chase away the night, because from deep within the heart of the hill the sounds of Elfhame’s revelry are beginning to die down.

As I make to pick up the parchment, I hear the almost imperceptible sound of the bedroom door snicking open behind me. The change in air pressure sends a gentle breeze fluttering the tendrils of hair around my ears. I knowingly smirk, making myself look busy by beginning to roll up the letter and tie it off. 

There are two things I am grateful for at this moment. 

One; my dagger, which lay on the desk in front of me, is shielded from his view. Placed there for the purpose of cutting the string of course, but certainly advantageous. 

Two; Cardan was a creature of habit. 

We’d been playing at this game for weeks now, ever since we got back from Vivi’s. He would try to sneak up on me to practice what The Roach had taught him, to best me at my own game. I’ll admit, his technique had improved with every attempt. His footfalls had grown softer and less clumsy, but his approach was the same every single time. He was predictable. 

I grip the handle of my dagger, gathering the string in my left hand with pretense. Just as expected, I feel him approach from behind, his restrained exhales grazing the right side of my neck lightly as he prepares to pounce. Before he can make a move, I gently thrust my dagger up and to the right, catching him just under the chin. I hear his breath catch in his throat followed by a long, disappointed sigh. 

“You’re getting better.” I say mockingly, turning in the chair to face him while keeping the dagger pressed to his neck, “But you’re going to have to try a lot harder if you want to catch me unawares.”

He peers down at me, his face a mixture of surprise and frustration. “I was certain that I had you that time!” he spits, his body tense with apprehension.

“Cardan Greenbriar, leaving a party early? I never thought I’d see the day.” I tease, taking note of the disheveled, black hair framing his face and the crown atop his head, slightly askew in the usual fashion. 

He purses his lips at my jest. “After you left, the party became rather dull. Every creature from here to Insweal was requesting an audience, it was utterly vexing.” He grouses, accompanied by his usual melodramatic gesticulations. 

“You are aware you’re the King, yes? It’s part of the title, you know, to listen to your people.” 

He scoffs in an almost childlike manner, his shoulders slumping. “Talking grows tiresome when it’s others that are speaking.”

“Cardan, just admit that you enjoy hearing yourself speak.” 

“I mean, of course I do. Have you heard me speak? I’m delightful.” He says, perking his eyebrows.

“Delightfully exasperating is what you are.”

He snorts, wrapping his hand gently around my outstretched arm. “Now, Jude, my love. Do you plan on keeping this dagger trained on me all day or-” 

Interrupting him, I stand, keeping the blade at his throat and his hand falls away. “That depends if you still keep your part of the bargain.” I say, leading him across the room and stopping in front of the bed, “I presume you remember what comes next?” I question, fashioning a playful smirk. 

He rolls his eyes, “As if I could forget your perverse demands. You can be quite bossy, you know.” 

I exhale a laugh, stepping closer as I dig the point of the blade into his skin. “And you talk too much sometimes. Now…” I remove the blade from his skin, but keep it aloft and pointed at him, “Kneel.” 

He begrudgingly drops to his knees in front of me and I take a step back, seating myself at the edge of the bed. Unbuttoning his silk doublet, he strips himself of the luxurious, green material followed by the white, cotton undershirt. He inches forward on his knees, positioning himself between my legs. 

“Good.” I say, the dagger still held aloft between us, “Now, I want to hear you speak the words again.” 

His eyes flash with darkness, fueled by hatred or desire I cannot tell, but it edges me on further. 

“My Queen,” he says derisively, gripping my ankle and lifting it towards him, “My wife,” he preaches, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of my ankle, “By you, I am forever undone.” He says, his tail whipping around excitedly behind him. 

“Cardan, you’re being given away.” I chide, clicking my tongue playfully. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were enjoying this.” I mock, with a devious grin, the corner of his mouth curling into a seductive smirk at my words. 

“My Queen,” he repeats, kissing my ankle again, “My wife,” he kisses higher on my leg, “By you, I am forever undone.” He croons devoutly, before dragging his tongue up the length of my leg, making my eyes roll with pleasure. 

In the moment my eyes are closed, Cardan seizes his opportunity. He whips his tail around, circling it around the dagger and jerking it out of my hand and into his before I can even react. With surprising precision, he angles the blade up and under my dress, gripping the fabric as he slices up through the skirt and relaxed bodice. 

With the sudden movement, his face is now level with mine. His eyes bore into mine, his mouth upturned with primal desire and victory as he stabs the blade into the mattress next to me. For once, he had bested me. 

“I enjoy chasing my prey just as much as I enjoy feasting on it.” He drawls, his voice oozing with desire. At his words, heat pools at my core and as his free hand grips my waist I realize that I am now laid bare to him. 

His gaze flickers from my eyes to my lips several times, calculating his next move. I make to speak but he crashes his lips down on mine, his hands pushing the now ruined dress off my shoulders. His hands rove over my skin as he kisses me, his tongue melding with mine as he moans into my mouth. 

He moves down my body, his lips trailing kisses down my skin. When he reaches my abdomen he comes to the realization that I had been completely bare beneath the dress and looks up at me hungrily. He pushes my thighs farther apart, before repeating his script of devotion once more. 

“My Queen,” he whispers against my skin, tracing his tongue up the inside of my thigh, “My wife,” he repeats, trailing his tongue again on the opposite leg, “By you, I am forever undone.” He says, his lips mere inches from my core, his voice almost a guttural moan. 

Before the final utterance can leave his lips, he presses his mouth down upon my center, his tongue flat against my sensitive clit. His fingertips dig into my thighs as my head tips back, every languid swipe of his tongue sending undulating waves of pleasure through my body. I revel in the beautiful haze of my own pleasure, my mind and body bleary and numb with self-indulgent ecstasy. 

The sudden absence of his tongue breaks through the haze like the sun’s rays ripping through the clouds, and looking down I see him staring up at me. He is gently biting his lower lip, on which my arousal is evident. He speaks, his words quiet and contemplative. 

“These are the moments, Jude, in which I find myself most enamored with you; when you don’t realize anyone is looking. Your face softens… your walls fall away, and there is a lightness about you that could chase away even the darkest parts of myself.” He says curiously, his brown eyes glazed with his own ecstasy. 

“I didn’t take you for a poet.” 

He shrugs. “We all have our hidden talents.”

“Well,” I say mischievously, plucking the crown off his head and setting it atop my own, “if a poet’s lips can weave words into passion, then make mine your next masterpiece. Or else, you’ll soon discover another hidden talent of mine.” I threaten, spreading my legs wider for him.

He licks me teasingly. “Is this what you want?” He swipes his tongue up my slit again. “Is this what makes you go mad with pleasure? Seeing your King on his knees, bowing to your every whim?”

He leans down to tease me again but before he can speak another word, I lace my fingers through his onyx hair and pull his mouth to my center with fervor. And a masterpiece he does write as his lips caress my own; and his tongue, dancing figure eights, leaves me tense and breathless with unforgiving pleasure. I cannot help the breathy moans that escape my throat, nor the way my body begins to tremble. Then comes that familiar tightening in my abdomen, the sensation that I have come to crave more and more. 

Sensing my impending climax, Cardan pushes two slender fingers into me - slowly and deeply - while his mouth continues its ministrations. He reaches his free hand around my body, pulling me closer to him. The muscles in his shoulder tense as he picks up his pace, his fingers thrusting in and out of me faster. With a few final swipes of his tongue, the building sensation at my core becomes blinding and then explodes, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body. I grapple for something to hold onto, my hands finding his hair again. My grip is tight enough to make him wince, but he doesn’t let up, determined to see this through. After the pleasure wracking my body subsides, I collapse onto my back as the immediate exhaustion consumes me. 

He withdraws his fingers and I hear him fumble with his trousers before they drop to the floor in a hush. He climbs onto the bed, his lips trailing kisses back up my body and to my own lips, parted in a pant. After a few lazy kisses, I feel his fingers at my lips. 

“Here, taste.” He says plainly. I part my lips and he slides his fingers in, letting me suck my own taste off of his fingers. He groans at the sight, “Sweeter than any everapple I’ve ever tasted.” He muses, “and just as addictive.” 

He leans down, his nose grazing my skin as he kisses my neck tenderly. I feel his hands slide under me and he begins to lift me from the bed. In the haze of my sex addled stupor, I can do nothing but cling to him as he moves up the bed. Sitting down, he brings me to my knees so that I am straddling his legs. 

Brushing my hair over my shoulder, he continues peppering tender kisses over my neck and collarbone, his tongue occasionally flicking out to caress my skin. He makes his way down to my bare breasts, circling his tongue around each pert nipple before taking them between his lips one at a time. 

I graze my hands down his abdomen, one hand about to reach for his hard length when his tail lashes out, coiling around my wrist. He pulls my hand away, tut-tutting at me like a child, “Ah ah ah, not so fast.” He chides, before resuming his torturous assault on my breasts. 

I make an attempt with my other hand but his fingers grip my wrist unforgivingly. 

“What exactly are you doing?” I demand, my body trembling with need. 

“Well, I’m taking care of you of course.” He says matter-of-factly. He continues kissing and licking and sucking every inch of my skin. 

I lean my head back, basking in his devotion for a moment, letting him believe I am distracted. When I sense his attention is solely on my body, I seize the opportunity and rip my wrist from his grip. Reaching back, I pull the knife from the mattress where it had been left and nock the tip of the blade just under his chin, sending his hands flying up in surrender. 

“I appreciate the sentiment Cardan, but I don’t need you to take care of me like I am a fragile petal.” My voice is edged with frustration, “What I need,” I pause, pushing at his chest until he is flat on his back, leaning down until my face hovers inches from his, “is to be filled to the brim by you and ravished until I am senseless and incoherent with satisfaction.” 

He contemplates me for a moment, before reaching up and brushing his thumb along my swollen lip. His heady voice is laced with arousal when he says, “Then, by all means.”

With his permission to take what I want, what I need, I reach below me to grip his already hardened length and position myself above him. I lock eyes with him, his dark eyes swirling with delicious anticipation. I sink down onto him, taking him deep within me, and his eyelids flutter as his eyes roll into the back of his head. He gives a throaty groan and I begin rhythmic movements, up and down around him. 

My head falls back as I move, gyrating my body down onto his. A blurry fog of euphoria begins pervading my every sense, each crack of skin on skin becoming an echo in the distance. The warmth of his fingers wrapping around my wrist brings me careening back. Seemingly, my hand holding the blade had begun to drift. The same hand which he was now guiding back, training the weapon on himself once more. I eye him warily, my eyebrow perking up in a question. 

“Do not think me strange when I confess this, but I find myself yearning every moment for your attention. Even if it means I must stare down a blade of forged steel, I would meet with a thousand more and risk my own blood just to spend eternity in your gaze.” 

His tender admission leaves me fumbling for words and I duck my head, a rose blush creeping up my cheeks. My mind wars with itself, searching for all the right words but finding nothing but a labyrinth of uncertainties. My head jolts up and I can feel the accusation in my eyes. His face contorts into one of concern, his lips parting under my contemptuous gaze. 

“You- you are insufferable, you know that? You say these things that muddle my brain into nothing and everything all at once! I cannot deduce which I loathe more… the fact that I love you so much- so much that it pains me” I say, my voice breaking, “or the fact that I hate you for making me love you.” I grind out through clenched teeth. “You make me feel weak and vulnerable… and I despise it. When I first realized I was no longer repulsed by the sight of you, I plotted your demise over and over. I dreamt of gutting you from neck to navel just so I wouldn’t have to face... feeling.” I lament, my piteous confession arousing those feelings of self-loathing that I had been afeard to confront. 

He reaches up, grasping the back of my neck and pulls me down to his face. He places his other hand on top of mine, wrapped around the hilt. 

“If the day ever comes in which you can truly no longer stand the sight of me, make good on your word.” He demands, tightening his grip around my hand with intent. “But until then, Jude Duarte, hate me, love me, be disgusted with me, or sing my every praise - it matters not. As long as you feel something for me, I will consider myself King of more than just Elfhame. And if spending every night in this bed makes you feel vulnerable, then I will spend every moment thereafter helping you build your wall back up, stone by stone.” He grips my neck once more, his thumb brushing my cheek. He reaches up, softly brushing his lips against mine, letting his tongue dip into my mouth for a moment before pulling away.

“Aren’t I just disgusting?” He jokes, his breath tickling my skin.

“Positively vile.” 

He turns my head, gaining access to my neck and as he plants a tender kiss to my throat, he lifts his hips, sinking his erection deep inside me. The sudden contact is all-consuming, making me moan. With a swift movement he flips me over on to my back, maintaining his position within me. He places one of my ankles on his shoulder and the other I wrap around his back, urging him closer. A tickling sensation encircles my thigh as his tail wraps around it possessively. 

Leaning forward, he props himself up on his forearms, his hands grasping my breasts. He pushes his hips forward, circling his thumbs around my nipples with each thrust. He groans, his jaw slackening with his growing arousal. His lips find the inside of my knee, peppering lazy kisses up my thigh. 

“You feel- gloriously devine wrapped around me.” He grunts between breaths, his voice rumbling against my skin. 

I cannot find the words to reply, so I simply squeeze my leg around his back in desperation. He takes the hint and his pace quickens, the slap of our hips echoing off the stone walls of the bedchamber. His sensual movements are a ravenous assault upon my mortal flesh that I welcome greedily. Feeling that coil deep within me begin to tighten, I exhale a rattling breath. He, too, recognizes his release within sight and his body tenses slightly, his brow beading with sweat as his hands grasp my breasts hungrily. 

My fingers find their place in his hair again, grounding my soul to keep it from leaving my body. My gasps become erratic, that delicious sensation tightening more and more. He begins trailing his tongue across my bosom, dropping a kiss here and there. After a moment, he stops and when I look down he is staring at me, his eyes dark with delight. He frees one of his hands, reaching down between us and his fingers find my clit, rubbing in small circles as he continues to slide in and out of me. The sensation makes me gasp, my back arching off of the bed. I can still feel his eyes on me, observing me as his tongue continues trailing lazy swipes across me, his breath fanning over my skin. 

My fingers leave his hair, my arms flailing out as I grip the bed sheets. I feel myself begin to topple over the edge, that coil releasing inside me in a powerful wave of pleasure. As if Cardan can sense it too, I suddenly feel his teeth sink into the soft flesh of my bosom. The sharp pain mixes with the pleasure, intensifying my release and I let out a strangled cry as my body shakes uncontrollably. Cardan slows his movements, each thrust deeper and harder than the last and he groans loudly into my chest as he finds his own release, the vibrations making my skin tingle. As if his body can give no more, he collapses on top of me in a sweaty heap. My body is buzzing, my chest heaving with exhaustion. A few moments pass, nothing but the sound of our satiated pants filling the room, before his voice rumbles against my sternum. 

“Lest we forget your accusation of my own narcissism, I must infuriate you with another confession.” He says, before lifting his head, folding his hands on my stomach and propping his head atop them. He ponders for a moment, steeling himself before speaking, his voice quiet with uncertainty, “I know you were once Queen of nothing. I know you were exiled to the mortal world at my command with no hope of ever coming home, under the impression that I had betrayed your trust. I- I would never wish that hopelessness on you again… not even in the moments that I hate you. So time and time again, until the light of this world snuffs out, I will kneel before you and try to make you feel like the Queen of everything.”

I cannot help the slow smile that creeps across my face coyly, nor the heat welling in my cheeks. I swallow down the lump in my throat, refusing to let him break me down completely in one night, but I brush a hand through his hair in recognition of his admission. A nagging question pops into my mind and I am suddenly grateful for the distraction. Propping myself up, I look at him intently. 

“Might I ask why you bit me?” I question, feigning anger of which he doesn’t seem convinced. He simply smirks, takes my hand, and presses a kiss to each fingertip before deigning to reply.

“I told you that one day I would hear you scream.” He said, his voice laced with arrogance. I let out an incredulous gasp, but he silences me with his lips. His tongue finds entrance as he kisses me into another stupor, and I soon forget my anger as I let myself drown in him once more. 

( Thank you for reading!! :D )

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

The Hate Project by Kris Ripper

The Love Study #2

 Adored this Carina Adores romance! It had me smiling, caring, chuckling, and hoping for the best for two rather prickly characters. I will say that the story grew on me and I was not enamored at all by the end of the first chapter BUT by the end of the second chapter I was invested and wanted to know what would happen.

 What I liked:

* The slow build of the relationship

* That the two men were not “easy” to love from the first moment you met them

* The group of friends that go by a name that would be censored if I typed it in her…they are there for one another no matter what.

* Being able to read and understand this book without having read book one in the series first

* Stepping into a world that is not my own

* Oscar: anxiety plagued, quirky, caring, organized, interesting, a person that as explained helped me understand better someone I know.

* Jack: bright, cautious, caring, loves his grandmother, a person with potential that is tapped in this story.

* That both characters became more and more real as I read, I was invested in them and their HEA was something I truly wanted them to achieve.

* Evelyn: Jack’s grandmother is a character and oh so lovable!

* The way the hoarding aspect of the story was handled

* Finding out what “The Secret” was

* All of it really except…

 What I didn’t like:

* Having to say goodbye to the characters when the book ended…

 Thank you to NetGalley and Harlequin-Carina Adores for the ARC – This is my honest review.

 5 Stars

The Hate Project by Kris Ripper is available in eBook, trade paperback and audiobook formats on April 27th!

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

This arrangement is either exactly what they need--or a total disaster

 Oscar is a grouch.

 That’s a well-established fact among his tight-knit friend group, and they love him anyway.

 Jack is an ass.

 Jack, who’s always ready with a sly insult, who can’t have a conversation without arguing, and who Oscar may or may not have hooked up with on a strict no-commitment, one-time-only basis. Even if it was extremely hot.

 Together, they’re a bickering, combative mess.

 When Oscar is fired (answering phones is not for the anxiety-ridden), he somehow ends up working for Jack. Maybe while cleaning out Jack’s grandmother’s house they can stop fighting long enough to turn a one-night stand into a frenemies-with-benefits situation.

 The house is an archaeological dig of love and dysfunction, and while Oscar thought he was prepared, he wasn’t. It’s impossible to delve so deeply into someone’s past without coming to understand them at least a little, but Oscar has boundaries for a reason—even if sometimes Jack makes him want to break them all down.

 After all, hating Jack is less of a risk than loving him…

 The Love Study

Book 1: The Love Study (available now!)

Book 2: The Hate Project (available April 27)

Book 3: The Life Revamp (coming November 30)

  Add The Hate Project to your Goodreads!

   EXCERPT

I’d never had friends until college. And even then, I wouldn’t have had friends except that Ronnie and I were freshman year roommates (before she transitioned, obviously), and she was friends with Dec and Mase and Mia, and they came around a lot and just sort of looped me in. It happened slowly over that first year and suddenly I had…friends.

What’s that thing with snake poison, where you take it in small doses every day to grow your immunity to it? That’s what happened with the Motherfuckers. Eventually I built up a tolerance to their, like, happiness and friendliness and optimism. Now my brain just recognizes them as a part of me. The same thing probably happened to them: eventually they built up a tolerance to my moods and freak-outs.

The most important thing you need to know about my friends is that they’re all way better people than I am. You can tell because they threw me a pity party. There’s the aforementioned Declan and Sidney, who got together during the commission of a video series called The Love Study on Sidney’s YouTube channel. Then there’s Mia and Ronnie, disgustingly married to each other. And the last of the official Motherfuckers is Mason, who once tried to get married (to Dec) and was left at the altar (by Dec). Which was awkward for a while, but now it’s fine. Though of all of us Mase is the one who wants a white picket fence and 2.5 kids.

Sounds fucking awful to me, but to each his own, I don’t judge, whatever floats your life raft, et cetera.

Since I didn’t want to get my impotent rage-slash-panic germs on anyone, I took up a seat in the corner and didn’t leave it except to use the bathroom and acquire victuals. By which I mean vegan, gluten-free, cauliflower-based pizza that turned out to be delicious. It used to be that my friends had an informal rotation for who’d sit with me, trading off for the duration of the social event, but that was before Jack. Jack was new to the group. Dec had collected him from work, and for reasons I didn’t understand (I would have suspected sexual favors if I didn’t know better), he kept mostly showing up to drinks with the Motherfuckers. And was now also on the invite list for ad hoc gatherings to celebrate catastrophic job loss.

Jack and I had no other setting with each other than arguing. Since neither of us was all that nice (and everyone else in the Motherfuckers was very nice), it worked out. He thinks he knows everything, I definitely know everything, and even though for the most part we would arrive at the same point from different angles, we spent most of our fights poking at each other’s angles to prove they were incorrect.

I probably shouldn’t have been surprised when it turned out bickering was actually foreplay.

Since the party was in my honor I was obligated to stay through dinner, and I did. In my corner. Weathering the well-intended reassurances of my friends was hard enough, but when Dec brought out one of those quirky adult card games where kittens exploded I had to get the hell out of there. Too much goodness on a bad day.

Jack apparently had a similar thought. It wasn’t the first time we’d made our escape at the same moment. This time, instead of parting ways on the sidewalk with a lukewarm we know each other through friends wave, both of us stopped.

He stopped a second before I did, which I immediately decided made him more desperate. It wasn’t charitable, but I believe in keeping track of who has the advantage in any encounter. Even a one-off.

“I live ten minutes away,” he said.

“Good for you.”

His lips twisted a little, from not-smile to not-impressed. “This is a pity fuck, Oscar. Take it or leave it.” With that he turned and made for a black two-door something-something on the other side of the street.

I hesitated. For about five seconds. But following up a pity party with a pity fuck sounded about right. “Just to clarify,” I called as I caught up with him, “I don’t do relationships.”

He hit a button that unlocked his car. “Just to clarify, I’m not offering one.”

Carina Adores is home to highly romantic contemporary love stories featuring beloved romance tropes, where LGBTQ+ characters find their happily-ever-afters.

 A new Carina Adores title is available each month in trade paperback, ebook and audiobook formats.

●      The Hideaway Inn by Philip William Stover (available now!)

●      The Girl Next Door by Chelsea M. Cameron (available now!)

●      Just Like That by Cole McCade (available now!)

●      Hairpin Curves by Elia Winters (available now!)

●      The Love Study by Kris Ripper (available now!)

●      The Secret Ingredient by KD Fisher (available now!)

●      Just Like This by Cole McCade (available now!)

●      Teddy Spenser Isn’t Looking for Love by Kim Fielding (available now!)

●      Best Laid Plans by Roan Parrish (available now!)

●      Hard Sell by Hudson Lin (coming May 25)

●      For the Love of April French by Penny Aimes (coming August 31)

●      Sailor Proof by Annabeth Albert (coming September 28)

●      Meet Me in Madrid by Verity Lowell (coming October 26)

●      The Life Revamp by Kris Ripper (coming November 30)

  Buy The Hate Project by Kris Ripper Links

Harlequin.com: https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781335509178_the-hate-project.html

IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781335509178

Walmart: https://www.walmart.com/ip/Love-Study-The-Hate-Project-2-Reissue-Edition-Paperback-9781335509178/964923621

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Hate-Project-Love-Study-Book-ebook/dp/B08FBCCK63

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-hate-project-kris-ripper/1138917233

Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-hate-project/id1526452840

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Kris_Ripper_The_Hate_Project?id=qpv1DwAAQBAJ

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-hate-project

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kris Ripper lives in the great state of California and zir pronouns are ze/zir. Kris shares a converted garage with a kid, can do two pull-ups in a row, and can write backwards. (No, really.) Ze has been writing fiction since ze learned how to write, and boring zir stuffed animals with stories long before that.

 Connect with the Author

Website: https://krisripper.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/405062456366636/

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[nicollekidman]

abby can you talk on how deancas and tenrose are the same?

okay so i need to preface this with the usual…. cannot believe i am enlightened enough to be seriously discussing this in the year 2020, but i’m happy for my teen self. also there is about to be a lot of unhinged earnestness to follow, so if you’re easily succebtable to cringe… don’t read on. ALSO RIP I WROTE 1800 WORDS about just the most general and nonspecific concepts…… brb k wording myself 

first off i think it’s so funny that i just went back and looked and i typed cas/ten as a one and dean/rose as a six completely independently so… that’s where my head is at. 

i think the meat of the issue is the way that tenrose and deancas function both in relation to the overall narrative and each other. there are many differences of course, but at the end of the day, both relationships are positioned as the ultimate working example of what their shows are trying to be About. 

i could write an entirely separate essay on the intersections between cas and the doctor, but essentially…… these are figures introduced to the audience as Beyond Human Understanding. they exist as celestial beings unconstrained by the rules of space and time, more closely connected to god than humanity. we meet the doctor farther along in his journey than castiel, but both of their character arcs are rooted in a Godlike Creature observing humanity and becoming enamored with it/driven to protect and care for it. by the time the doctor meets rose, it is well established that he has a soft spot for humanity, she’s not the one who teaches him that. but she is the one he reaches out to and leans on for support and healing post-time war, and she is the one who influences ten’s regeneration so deeply that he is made in her image/for her. castiel rebuilds dean atom by atom is hell, and upon rescuing him from the pit, finds himself similarly irrevocably altered. it is revealed to us that castiel also has had a long affection for humanity, but nothing swayed him from his ultimate duty before he met dean. and just as the doctor finds himself with a family for the first time after gallifrey with rose and her mother on the estate, castiel finds himself cut off from his family/realm, but with a new family, team free will. they lose everything, their attachment to the heavens, and find a new family and a new reason to continue, in these humans. 

dean and rose also are the ultimate Human Credentials. we all know this term to be indicative of someone who confers humanity onto the other, someone who, by mere accompaniment, allows their beloved to more safely/easily navigate life. and it’s true in this sense. rose is constantly reminding ten how to Be Human (”am i being rude?”) in both big and small ways, just as dean more or less badgers castiel in the same way ( “dude. we talked about this”). neither cas nor ten would be as intimately connected with their “human sides” with their partners. but dean and rose are also Human Credentials in a broader sense, in that….. they act as character references for the rest of humanity, and by virtue of their own selves/their partner’s attachment to them, guarantee investment in the rest of the human race. castiel is more-or-less content to watch from heaven and take orders until he rescues dean and becomes involved with his life (”the moment castiel laid a hand on you in hell he was lost”). his love and affection for dean and his willingness to bend everything to keep him safe means that castiel learns to defy heaven for the good of humanity. ten has always loved humans, but he loves rose a little differently. The Doctor Needs Someone, and we see rose’s power as his human credential most strongly when she’s gone. Without rose, ten is more willing to put himself/others in danger, to make choices that will result in death, to be callous and reckless and thoughtless. rose’s presence is a constant reminder that humanity is Worth the Trouble, that he’s never met anyone who wasn’t important. 

for rose and dean…. these are two, completely Normal, Average People. or so they think anyways. the burdens they carry and their inner lives are very different, but in very simple ways, they both would’ve continued their lives believing there was nothing special about them, getting up to Do Their Duty, never asking for anything special. both view themselves are caretakers, although this manifests differently bc rose is a bratty 19 year old and dean never got the opportunity to be a teenager. but both Feel Deeply in ways/levels that others don’t. each has an extremely open heart and a need to protect/provide for the little people. what ten and cas give them is an entirely new perspective, whereupon it starts to be possible to believe that even the smallest person can affect the world for better, and that they, specifically Deserve More. 

THEN we have the ideas of religion/free will/fate that intertwine both shows. rtd’s doctor who was explicitly and obviously written with the intent to show an atheist universe where the human spirit and mind are enough on their own to be holy, to determine right and wrong, and to decide the events of the universe. obviously ten is often situated in christ-like positions, but he learns from humanity as much as they teach him. supernatural is a little more complicated, with an alternate vision of accepted figures of christianity, but both shows heavily emphasize the power of human kindness, passion, empathy, and individual choice. ten may not live within the confines of space and time, but apocalypses in doctor who often hinge on one small person doing The Next Right Thing, just as supernatural’s base credo is We’re Writing a New Chapter. castiel bursts onto the scene and is literally taught the importance of free will by dean, and perhaps even the importance of his own desires/needs by dean. both core relationships exemplify what it means to make choices outside the realm of fate (even whilst allowing for the existence of soulmates). yes, castiel was ordered to raise dean from perdition, but their human connection is what allows the winchesters to subvert God and move outside the printed narrative - love for a human is what makes an angel CHOOSE to fall from heaven. and ten…. well ten knows that rose is going to die. ten understands from the moment he allows himself to care for her above all others, that he is dooming himself to pain and regret and loss. but he decides to do it anyways, because isn’t the best thing an otherwordly being in love with humanity can do is to eperience love and loss on a human level? both cas and ten understand that there is no love without pain, that they will be the ones to watch their beloveds leave them, but that the Choice to love out of free will is worth it. 

there’s also the element of Expression/Repression. here is where the underlying emotion remains similar but the freedom of how exactly to illustrate these feelings could not be more different. tenrose is a heterosexual relationship at the end of the day, and their storylines require them to be alone in each other’s presence nearly 100% of the time. thus, we get LOTS of familiar touching, lots of body language and casual intimacy and teasing. dean and cas…. lol. not so much. instead of physicality, we get looks, both because of dean’s own upbringing/sexuality and because they exist on the show that they do. deancas deals in the unspoken - the acts of service, the grace healings, the tense moments of battle, the lack of personal space. the expression is different, but the emotion is the same. ten and dean hold themselves back from the more Obvious open-book partners, for their own personal reasons. the end effect being that everyone on screen understands/insinuates what’s happening, and their relationship is so thick with subtext its a wonder no one suffocates. Words are seen as the ultimate step, once which cannot be overcome in normal life. both pairs use death/separation as the final step towards full transparency, but even then we are never granted the ultimate catharsis of an I Love You. castiel couches his confessions in generalizations towards groups, and dean swallows his truth even in prayer. rose says the words through a veil of uncrossable distance, but she doesn’t get to hear them back. they can Know, and we can Understand, but we cannot hear it. 

lastly (for now)…. and perhaps as an ultimate summation…….. death and parallel universes and fate cannot stop them, those who are drawn to each other through heaven and hell, through time and realities. it is to be understood that will all four individuals fight to ensure that each human being is safe, protected, and able to make their own choices they are soulmates. they are soulmates who are bound to each other to be sure, but they’re not Fated in a way that takes away their free will. they’re fated by the series of choices they make, over and over again, to prioritize each other, to traverse time and space and dimension and hell to get back to one another. god cannot see castiel in his plans for the world, and yet castiel has evaded death again and again, to give dean a win. nothing could tear rose away from her doctor, and even while trapped in another dimmension, she hears his voice, she runs to him, and she finds a way to get back to him. each and every choice they make brings them back to one another, regardless of the ultimate ending. we don’t know yet if we will ever hear castiel and dean get their doomsday moment, but we do know that in order for castiel to leave dean’s side, an entirely new dimmension (the empty) will have to be in play to keep them apart. 

ultimately, castiel and ten are both celestial beings with self-worth issues but a burning and true desire to see humanity thrive, directly and indirectly because of their attachment to dean and rose. dean and rose make castiel and ten more human, all while exemplifying why human is a good thing to be. dean and rose become more themselves under cas and ten’s influence, both are given more opportunity to bloom into who they are meant to be. all four become More in the presence of each other, and save the world while doing it. ultimately there is a heavy dose of tragedy in both - whether or not dean and cas get their moment is yet to be seen, but these are still Soulmates with differing relationships to mortality. but is there anything sweeter than defying god’s and fate and our own doubts to grab love with both hands, even when we know there will be pain?