#edit: it gets worse isn’t that fantastic

[catradoraism]

reading 2ha is such a fun experience bc u start off going “wow! this is some of the most depraved shit i’ve ever read!” but u also have to force urself to read thru ur tears every twenty chapters

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"The Best Gift He Can Give." Mickey Altieri X AFAB! Reader.

Okay, so the amazing and fantastic @mrsaltieri-real had a birthday a while ago, and I wrote this as a gift. I edited it to make it reader insert friendly and now I am sharing it with all of you! I hope you all enjoy it.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 5.4K. Mickey Altieri X AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Your Boyfriend David Fucking Sucks. Your Boyfriend Cheats On You. Apologies To Dudes Named David Who Don't Suck. Stalking. Breaking And Entering. Murder. Blood. Gore. Violence. Making Out. Grinding. Vaginal Fingering. Eating Out. Eating Ass. Hair Pulling. Spanking. Praise. Degredation. Rimming. Vaginal Sex. Cream Pie. Confessions Of Feelings.

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There are people in this world who do not deserve anything. They don’t deserve kindness, or understanding, they don’t deserve friends, they don’t even deserve to breathe. One such asshole was your boyfriend, David. You don’t even know why he is your boyfriend, honestly you’ve had friends ask, and you are never sure much what to say. He treats you terribly, he is mean to you, rude, constantly picks fights, and it isn’t like you can say, “Well at least the sex is good-”

Because it is very much not. You’d been together for four years, and it had never been good.

Mickey didn’t know about that, though. All he knew to start is that you were cute, and he liked how you looked, the rest started to become revealed to him through watching you over time. He remembers the first afternoon he started to pick up on that very clearly. He was in the library, one table over, trying to do some actual work, sure he wasn’t paying for his degree, but he couldn’t exactly flunk out either, and he overheard an interaction, “Do you have to turn your pages so loud?”

Your head snaps up, looking over to him, Mickey’s own eyes flick up, but his head doesn’t raise, brows furrow in question mirroring yours as you ask, “Excuse me?”

“You are turning the pages of your book really loudly-” He drew out your name, focused on it, and that made your expression turn from somewhat annoyed confusion to outright disgust, a roll of your eyes. “Fuck off David.” 

His tone made Mickey’s skin crawl, “Sooo mature, this is a library, can’t you keep it down and show some class?” 

Mickey had to fight to keep his jaw from dropping, who the fuck was this guy, and why was he so comfortable talking to you like that? He thought boyfriends were supposed to be fucking nice to their girlfriends, and here he was treating you like he hated you, as if you were shit on the bottom of his shoe.

That was not the only time he saw you being treated so shamefully by David, either. Seems whenever he overheard, walked by, you were being talked down to by him or already mid-fight. 

Worse still he would complain about what you wore deriding any skin you wanted to show, and what you were into, he’d overheard him belittling your love of movies too. “How the fuck can you do that shit?”

“Do what shit, David?” You sighed, and he asked, “What the same fucking movies over and over, don’t you ever get bored?”

Your reply comes out almost bored, edging on annoyed, “Those same movies over and over are definitely more interesting than talking to you so-” 

“Woooow, is that any way to talk to me?” He’d ask, and Mickey would think to himself that you should treat him a Hell of a lot worse for how he acts.

You and Mickey had been friends in secret for a while, it had been a very quiet affair, mostly because David would be threatened and jealous, something that bugged Mickey, but he was just glad for the time spent with you and to get to know you. Small moments carved out whenever that prick wasn’t around became absurdly meaningful. 

One day he found you alone on a park bench on campus and seemingly very upset, he couldn’t leave you like that, your boyfriend isn’t around and so he comes forward until he is close enough to ask, “Hey uh, you good?”

Head raises, and you sniff, hands rushing to wipe at your nose and mouth, you nod shakily, mouth dry as you say, “Yeah, totally, so, so good.” 

He lets himself smile this kind of sad smile as he sits down beside you, humming out, “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Leave it alone.” You sigh, and he presses, “No way, there has to be a reason you’re this upset and I wanna know.” 

You slump back further into the bench, averting your gaze as you confess, “You caught me, M’ not good at all. I just found out that my boyfriend fucking cheated on me.” 

Immediate anger flares as does genuine concern for you, both emotions taking hold makes his eyebrows raise and his hand reach out to touch your elbow, your attention snaps back to him. Your eyes meet, and he says, “You can talk to me.”

“What is there to talk about?” It’s said very quietly, and his grip on you tightens by a fraction as he encourages, “Plenty. It isn’t healthy to keep this shit bottled up, what he did was fucked, talk to me about it.” 

You haven’t opened up in such a long time but right now, something in his eyes beckons you and the urge overtakes, you feel safe and think, maybe you should open up. Your stomach is churning, and you think, what harm could it do? You start to tell him, a verbal torrent that once it began it was impossible to stop, as you vent about David and the series of horrible things he had put you through in your relationship. He listens, and only when you stop for breath does he say, “You don’t deserve to be treated like this, you could do so much better than an asshole like him.”

A small shrug as you brush him off, “It’s easier to stay in this relationship because it’s all I’ve ever known. Even if I broke things off with him, he’d never really let me go.”

“What do you mean he wouldn’t let you go?” His question isn’t entirely unexpected, but you still struggle for a moment to respond, “I dunno, I just…I know he would put up a massive fight, and I couldn’t ever just make a clean break. He wouldn’t let that happen.” 

He licks his lips tentatively, an almost nervous action, “He…He doesn’t own you. Hon, you know that, right?”

You looked over at Mickey and said quietly, unconvincingly, “I know that.” 

He wasn’t sold. He hated the look in your eyes right now. Not only that, but he tried to break the tension and asked, “Is the sex that good or-?”

You laughed, head tipping back, genuine smile crossing your face, you shake your head as you catch your breath and tell him, “God no, it’s terrible! So vanilla, nothing but missionary, he never even eats me out.” You exhale and expound further, “He expects me to blow him too.” 

“Fuck off no way.” His reaction pulled another laugh out of you, and he insists, “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.” You sighed. He speaks with conviction, anger but not at you, never at you, more frustration at your situation and how you seemingly have just accepted it. “Why the fuck do you put up with this asshole? Seems like you are doing all the giving with no take.” 

A shrug as you tell him, refusing to look at him any longer, “I’ve grown used to it, it’s been just so long of the same thing, you know?” 

That was fucking bullshit. Sunk cost fallacy much? Clearly you were never going to get out from under this jerk’s thumb on your own, so he was going to do something about this. It would take some work, but you were more than worth it. He started to stalk him, determined to get real dirt on him, he learns his routine and becomes far too acquainted with even the most basic and mundane things about your boyfriend. 

It doesn’t take him long, around a month in is when Mickey catches David in the act of cheating, he was fucking some girl from his film class. 

It was infuriating! Here he has you, a total fucking catch, and he doesn’t appreciate you, mistreats you, and cheats on you on top of all that. What a complete piece of fucking trash. 

He has every intention of telling you when he has the adequate proof-

Wait.

What if he tells you and you still stay? You seemed so downtrodden, what if not even this is enough to convince you to leave? Fuck, that would be terrible, but he couldn’t let that hold him back. 

He just needed to stay on task, stay focused, and this could work out. He clung closer, tried to be around you more and provide more support, but that, as it turns out, only made it harder. Having to be confronted so frequently with the damage he was doing to you, how sad you were, it made him hurt in kind. He really fucking cared about you.

On top of all of this, his presence is apparently putting more pressure on your relationship. He comes across you and David having a loud and public altercation a few days later, as he gets closer he realizes it is about him. 

“You can’t tell me what to do!” You insist, and David bites back, “Oh, can’t I?”

“No! You can’t! What is the problem anyway?” You try to implore, and he isn’t having it, “I don’t like him! No, scratch that, I fucking hate him. You shouldn’t be talking to any guy, I don’t want you to even look in his direction-”

“You are so ridiculous-” 

He can’t stay. He can’t listen to this. Furthermore, he can’t stand idly by any longer. He is going to do something about this. 

Breaking into David’s place was easy, taking his time is what was difficult. He eases into his bedroom, costume on, knife already in his hand, and comes up to the bed. You were back at your own place, far away and hopefully peacefully sleeping, blissfully unaware of just what he was about to do for you, of the devotion he has and was about to display. 

He wanted to spit in the fucker’s face for what he did to you, more than that he wanted to main and mutilate him, wanted to inflict as much physical pain onto him as he inflicted mental pain onto you. He reached down, he ripped the blanket back, and with one smooth motion he stabbed the sharp blade into David’s stomach. 

The reaction was immediate, his eyes snapping open, mouth open in a soundless scream as it seems all the air leaves him, hands flying to his stomach trying to clutch at the blade but stopping short, afraid to touch the intrusion. He ripped the knife out and then stabbed it back in, immediately. He twists, David inhaled as much as he could but then breathed out, hiccuping on the air, it becomes a complete bloodbath. Mickey cuts, he stabs, he hurts him as he can’t hold back, and David chokes out, “Why?”

Mickey laughs, this cold and calculating kind of laugh before he takes the mask off, and then he starts to talk, “You are a pathetic excuse for a man, a worthless piece of trash-” 

The knife is ripped out and brought back down harder than before, the steel scrapes bone, and he sobs, “-you don’t deserve someone like her, you know that, right? You’ve been mistreating her for way too long.”

The metal wrenched free and then drove deeply inward again, the next sound of pain is a short gasp, Mickey tells him further, “That is why I am doing this, I am going to step in and take over.” 

David looked so pitiful, tears down his cheek, bloodstained and movements slowing, weakening. Mickey leaned down and told him lowly,“I’m going to make her feel so, SO much better than you ever did.” 

He is unrecognizable. Organs are laying all around him, cuts on his face making it, so his identity is basically gone, partially skinned in places. He wished he could have taken the time to skin him alive, fillet him like a fucking fish, but even that would be too good for him. He is sure that he has drained him of about half of his blood, the mattress is soaked, heavy and thick, there is a squelching sound when Mickey gets off the bed. The blood has soaked through the robe, it is staining his shirt and jeans he is positive of it, the handle of the knife is slick, he can feel coagulated blood that has gathered between his fingers, the clots are slippery and almost black.

There is one place he wants to be and it’s with you.

He goes to your place. 

It is obscenely late when you open the door, you are in your pyjamas, you look fucking gorgeous to him. 

“Mickey?” You rub over your eyes, suppressing a yawn, you ask, “What are you doing here?”

He pushes past you, comes inside as he starts to talk, “I had to come see you, I just did something amazing tonight-”

You close the door, he is talking quickly, a mile a minute, excited, manic. “I was thinking about what told me about David and I just got so fucking inspired, you know? So I decided I just had to do it, so I did but, darling, you need to tell me, what else didn’t he do for you?”

“What he didn’t do?” You repeat, softer, confused, and he nods, brows raised and eyes alight, mischievous, “Yes, tell me all the things he doesn’t do for you.”

It is then that you take him in awake enough to register, and notice what he is wearing. A black robe, almost plastered to his body, your eyes flit downwards, and you see that it’s shiny in a particular way that tattles on it being wet, but wet with what? Eyes catch red droplets on the ground coming off of the frayed edged of the black fabric, your gaze shoots back up. You smell the iron, and you see the small flecks of red on his face, and so the question tumbles out, “What is with the robe and is that fucking blood?”

This half smile on his face and a cock of his head as he tells you as if it couldn’t be more obvious, “I just killed David. For you sweetheart.”

You don’t feel angry or upset, to your complete surprise, you feel an insane and immense sense of relief that David is gone. You no longer have to put up with him. 

A sharp inhale as the feeling sinks in, you let it wash over you, not fighting it, letting it soak into your bones. Another question spills out as you ask, “What did you do to him?”

His grin is so wide you worry it hurts his face. 

“I snuck into his apartment, broke in with no issue, I crept into his bedroom and I stabbed a knife-” He brought one foot up, boot rested on the chair at your desk, hauling up the robe, careful not to get blood on more than he had already his hand grasps the hand of the knife. He unsheathes it from the holster that was strapped to his leg, his foot comes back down, he is holding the knife up, you can see the dried blood all over the blade and his hand, he continues to expound, “-this knife, into his stomach.”

He mimics the motion, smile still pulling his features tight, “He gasped and struggled, it was pathetic. I ran him through over and over, the sound was wet, the blood gushed.” 

A sigh crosses his lips, he is looking down at the blade, turning it over in his hands. You, too, are fixated on the glinting metal as it moves from one hand to the next. He keeps talking. “You’d think sound would be a concern. That he’d be screaming his fucking head off, right?”

You look up, he is staring at your face, expectant, you respond to the question, a shaky nod. He continues on, a point of his knife, “Wrong. When you stab someone right, it sucks all the air out of their lungs.” The images his is giving fills your head, of David lying there, bleeding and as Mickey put it, pathetic. He is still expounding. “I was relentless, kept stabbing him, he had no chance to catch his breath. You can’t scream if you can’t breathe.”

You listen enthralled as he describes how he cut flesh from bone, how chunks fell away, digging fingers into open wounds, manually separating cartilage and skin and muscle apart just because he could. He speaks of how much blood he drained and by the end of it you were breathing much harder as was he. Almost no space between the pair of you.

He is looking in your eyes, and he speaks, “I ask again, what did he never do for you?” 

You can’t help it, inquiring, “Why do you want to know so bad?” 

“Because sweetheart-” He sets the knife down on your desk, his hand reaches out to take yours, tacky with partially dried crimson, and he says, “-baby, darling, I want to make you feel all the things you’ve missed out on the past few years.” 

You are as explicit in describing what you’d been missing as he was when describing the violence he did to David. 

“He never made me cum with his mouth, his dick, not even his fingers. I haven’t felt a hot tongue on my clit in fucking years.” You start, a deep inhale before you force it out, speak in hushed tones, “He only ever fucked me in missionary, he never put a hand on my throat and choked me, never pulled my hair, he never praised me, fuck, Mick, he never even degraded me.”

You sigh now, “Never spanked me, never ate my ass, God do I want someone to eat my ass and above all else, he never overstimulated me-”

He cut you off. His mouth crashing into yours after far too long, he kisses you deeply, and you fall into it, into him. A moan into his mouth, hands reach out, fingers tangle in the sleeves, they feel damp, you flex your fingers, you squeeze, beads of blood squeeze through your fingers. Your tongue runs over his bottom lip, and you revel in the taste of him. Christ it was never like this with David, a simple kiss with Mickey was serving to do you in, the graze of his lips against yours, of his tongue brushing yours was sending sparks throughout you. 

Feet stumble back, you pull him with you, keep him near, unwilling to break the connection you’ve made and yet you do, a quiet mumbling of, “Get this fucking robe off-”, pulling on his sleeves for further emphasis. The contact is broken for him to listen and obey, he pulls the robe off and drops it onto the floor, the blood has soaked through to his t-shirt he was wearing, and again you are confronted with what he did. He killed David for you, the evidence of his care for you, of his total devotion is splattered all over him, plastering his shirt to him, soaked into thin fabric. 

This time, you are pulling him back to you, greedy and needy as you do so. Mouths meet again as you are moving backward, the back of your knees hit the edge of your mattress, and you let yourself fall, tugging him down with you. 

His leg slots between yours as his lips descend on yours again, you sink further into the mattress as he, in turn, sinks into you, melting into the contact, his leg presses closer, knee is tighter to you and that makes you inhale sharply. That sets something off in him. 

One of his hands moves, threads in your hair, and he tugs, it forcefully breaks the kiss and pulls a moan from you at the delicious rush of pain. His mouth moves, presses over your jaw, down your throat, and he makes your hips move on their own, grinding against him, desperate for more already. A squirm of your hips as you drag your clothed slit against his solid thigh, and the wash of pleasure makes you have to suppress a shudder, a whining moan held back as well as you bite your bottom lip. 

He notices immediately, pulling back from your neck, another tug of your hair, and he makes you look at him, “None of that shit, I don’t fucking care how late it is, I don’t care if every son of a bitch on this entire floor files a noise complaint, I want to hear you, no holding back.”

You are stunned, speechless, your hips shift, and you are drenched, underwear plastered to you and one of his hands locks onto your throat, he squeezes and says, “I’m not hearing you say yes.” 

You just cannot believe everything you’ve ever wanted has fallen into your lap, you choke out, “Yes, yes, please, fucking yes-”

He shuts you up with another kiss and that is how things seriously escalate, both of you rushing to undress each other. You hadn’t been wearing much to sleep, the tank top and shorts were removed, his shirt and shoes are off now, and he stops. You are looking up at him, admiring him the same way he is you, even with almost all his clothing removed there is still the mark of the crime he committed, blood left on his torso after leaking through his shirt, splatters on his arms, the small flecks on his face. He is looking at you like you are a full meal with nothing more in his way than damp lace, “Fucking Christ-”

He sighs, his fingers trace the curve of your breast before he fully takes it in his hand, he looks helpless in regard to what he wants to do, he follows the impulse, he leans down, and his mouth latches onto one of your nipples. His tongue circles and you sigh, arching up into him. 

His teeth graze as one of his hands slips between your thighs, he only gets one pass of his fingers over the wet material before he decides that isn’t good enough. Fingers hook in the thin garment, and he pulls, he hopes you didn’t give a shit about them because he cannot be bothered to remove them properly, he pulls until it rips and throws it aside. No chance of you complaining because his fingers are on you, strong digits press to you bare for the first time. 

Your eyes roll back with a soft, “Oh my fucking God-” which Mickey absolutely eats up as he starts to move, fingers trace slowly, dipping low, catching some mess and dragging it up, using it as lube to rub your clit. 

The increase in pleasure was immediate, your body slowly starts to tense as the feeling digs into your bones, you fully give in to what he is doing to you. 

“Do you know how much I’ve poured over this?” He asks, and you say quietly, “No.” 

“So many nights.” He confesses, his fingers pick up the pace, tight circles rubbed, and he tells you more, “I’d think about this, about having you under me, about doing-” Two fingers ease inside of you, and he moans like it’s his pleasure, breathing out, “-this.” 

“You feel better than I ever thought you could, so fucking wet, so soft.” He groans, and you arch closer, his palm presses nearer, he moves and works with you, fingers curling into that sweet spot and hand grinding over your clit. You listen, and you feel, minutes later, very quickly between his hushed words and expert touch you are shivering and telling him, “M’ close Mickey-” 

“Fuck yes, do it.” The firm command makes it impossible to stop, you tip over and cum. It feels phenomenal, it’s been ages since anyone has done this, showed this level of care and investment in your enjoyment. He doesn’t relent, keeps his pace steady and consistent, and draws out every bit of feeling he can from your high. 

He doesn’t let you rest, your body sinks back into the mattress, you are panting, and he slides his fingers out of you and right into his mouth. Not only that, but he tastes you for the first time and moans from the salt and tang of you coating his tongue. 

“You taste better than anything I’ve ever put in my mouth.” He slips down your body, drags of his lips lighting further fire in you until he settles between your thighs, his mouth latches onto your still very sensitive clit and your thighs clamp around his head immediately. Your hand shoots down, fingers in his stupidly attractive hair, and you moan loudly, just as he wants you to. 

He was ravenously hungry but still taking his time with this, he forces himself to slow down just a touch, he knows you haven’t had this in years thanks to that douchebag of an ex-boyfriend. He laps at your leaking slit, from hole all the way up to your throbbing clit, he swirls his tongue around the boarders once, twice, three times before passing over it again, making you gasp out his name. 

Mickey luxuriates in the act and does his best to ensure that you do as well, sucks with purpose and is quickly rocketing you to another orgasm, you can barely string together a sentence to warn him of that, but he knows, fingers twist further in his hair, and you pull with a cry of his name, in another two short minutes you are cumming again, it’s stronger than the first, you are louder than you were last time, but he continues. He doesn’t stop on your come down, he just slows, goes lighter, his licks are running up the length of you, between your lips and on top of your twitching bud, over and over, methodical, and you can’t stop shaking. 

Somehow through the haze of pleasure you manage to speak, calling out to him, “Mi-Mickey, oh my fucking God-”

He lifts his mouth, you expect him to give you a breather or to give some pithy response that will turn you on further and make you leak more, but instead his hands are on your hips, he tilts them up and his tongue dives lower. His tongue circles over your asshole, and you actually sob, shocked and broken from the sudden stab of ecstasy that hits your gut, your hand leaving his hair, instead gripping at the sheets. You can’t stop from squirming, which makes his job harder, you hear something that sounds akin to a mildly annoyed growl. 

One of his hands lifts off your hip, and he lands a firm smack on your ass as he grits out, “Stop squirming so much babe, let me make you feel good.” 

He gets back to it and your head is thrown back against the pillows, you try, you really do, but his tongue flicks just so and your body bucks. He instead flips you over onto your stomach roughly manhandling you, one hand pulling your hips up, and he dives back in tongue first. He eats your ass with passionate fervour, whenever you buck too much he reminds you to behave with another hit to your ass cheek. His hand that wasn’t on your hip slides under, and he circles your clit with fast and clever fingers. 

The sharp slaps of pain and combined with him being tongue deep in your ass and rubbing your clit makes you cum embarrassingly fast yet again and harder still, legs trembling so much you almost fall on your face, with an ample gush onto his chin while sobbing his name into the pillow.  

When you stopped shaking he came up, another smack to your ass, his chest to your back as he leans down and praises right in your ear, “Oh good fucking girl.”

You start to babble out into the damp pillowcase, “Mi-Mickey, ‘lease, fuck me, need you-”

He hums, and you hear his belt open, finally getting his pants open, he inhales sharply in relief, the pressure easing from him opening his pants. The rest of his clothes are discarded, and he pauses. His hand on your sore ass, right on the spot he kept hitting over and over, his thumb traces down, spreading your lips, over your hole, and he sighs, “I have been dying to get inside this cunt.”

He lines up, he pushes his hips forward and sinks deep inside you, in one swift and smooth motion. The moan you share is like music, beautiful, melodic, passionate collaboration. His hand goes into your hair, he fucks you like that, face down ass up, he starts a quick pace initially, rough, needy and you love it. His body is covering yours as he breathes into your ear, “You feel incredible, oh my God-” His head tips back with a loud moan, he drives into you over and over, “-fucking stunning too, you are so gorgeous.” 

It has been entirely too long since you’ve been fucked in any position other than missionary. The sensation, his weight on your back, the sound of skin on skin, his breath in your ear, it’s fucking perfection. You rock back with him, meet him in the middle, you were giving back, showing just how desperately you want him in kind makes Mickey let out this sound, caught between a groan and something more possessive, not explicitly words, but it hits you low in your gut. 

He starts to slow down, takes a little more time, and you are moaning louder and louder, you are so worked up, so sensitive, you feel alive and electric. On one level it feels like you can feel every ridge and vein of him and on another like you can’t determine up from down, completely drunk on feeling. 

You completely lose track of how many times you get off that night, the pace will switch on a whim, from hard pounding and him calling you every name in the book to more easy and sensual, a writhing joint movement instead of an aggressive pounding. 

You ride him, grind one out on top of him while he cradles your breasts, thumbs passing over your nipples as he calls you a beautiful fucked out angel. 

He fucks you spooning, hand around you and between your thighs, strumming your clit with one hand, the other locked on your throat as he is fucking in and out.

The only thing that seems to make it stop is you literally sobbing for it to. Your cheeks are wet, you are babbling his name and the word stop, you have one leg over his shoulder and the other is pinned down near your knee by him. His stamina was impressive, he’d already cum once when you were riding him, had filled you up, but instead of that stopping it, he just flipped you over, still hard, and kept fucking going, his own cum providing even more lube.

That was a while ago, you could tell that he was near again, sweat down the side of his face, movements of his hips sloppy, panting your name over and over. You know you can’t again, you are too fried, too overstimulated and finally, just as the soreness is starting to teeter on the other side of being more unpleasant and painful than pleasurable he holds deep and cums again. 

You feel totally boneless, your arms feel heavy as you wrap them around him loosely, his head dips down and rests on your shoulder, you are just trying to catch your breath.

He gets his back faster than you. 

He is still inside of you when he comes back up, fingers push some of your hair aside as he looks down into your eyes. Your chest is still rising and falling rapidly as he confesses, for what must be the third time tonight, telling you, “I fucking care about you.”

A strong belief that is nothing but the truth hits, “You deserve way better than him, I wish I could have met you sooner so you could have had those years back of someone who actually gives a shit about you instead of that asshole.” 

You want this, want him, damned what that says about you or your morals, you don’t care as you tell him, “Fuck that selfish cunt, forget about him, let’s just make up for lost time.” 

He has every intention of doing just that.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Actor!Dan Masterlist

Act Naturally (ao3) - jestbee

Summary: Phil has a quiet life studying film at university and some small dreams of being a director he’s mostly ignoring, but his whole life is turned upside down when his roommate signs him up for a game show and he meets the famously arrogant movie star Daniel Howell.

A Perfect Pair (ao3) - husbants

Summary: Dan, a struggling actor who works retail by day, and Phil, an ex-YouTuber-turned-porn-star, end up matched together on the new reality show, Perfect Pair.

all the world’s a stage (ao3) - croissantbleu

Summary: As an openly queer actor and a vocal activist for the community, Dan Howell wasn’t exactly surprised when a news outlet contacted him to offer him an interview and his picture on the cover of their Pride edition, but he wasn’t quite expecting what this interview, and this reporter, would lead to.

and we're out here in plain sight (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Phil's an optimistic author whose science fiction novel is well on its way to becoming a film. Dan's an actor whose cynism toward love is nothing short of infuriating. It takes a while, but they find something to agree on.

A Rose By Any Other Name (ao3) - gracilis

Summary: AU where Dan Howell is an actor and Phil Lester is a lot of things- hopeful and fearful included.

Bad Choices and Even Worse Boyfriends (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan Howell, most sought after English actor in the world, has had his relationship outed at a bar. He keeps faith that his boyfriend will come back eventually, though.

One day, he comes home to find a package that’s not addressed to him at his front door. It’s a manuscript for a book, and against his better judgement, he reads it. That’s when he meets author Phil Lester, strikes up a fantastic friendship and starts getting over his ruined relationship. Unfortunately, it’s only a matter of time before his ex finds him again, and despite Phil’s mistrust of this man, Dan can’t help but want him.

Blue Tweets (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: At Dan and Phil’s high school, Dan is a talkative, popular teen actor, and Phil is a quiet daydreamer. Dan thinks Phil’s cute and constantly talks about him on his Twitter, danisnotonfire (no duh). What he doesn’t know is that Phil follows him, and starts to connect the dots.

class a klutz (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan’s an asshole who stars in high quality films and Phil’s just a clumsy idiot who has bad timing.

Connect the Dots (ao3) - phanimist

Summary: Dan’s a famous actor who gets a text from an unknown number one day, and Phil’s a movie reviewer who just wants to find his Adventure Time sweater. Dan has trouble connecting the dots when the unknown number continues to reply to him.

Don’t Ask Me How I’ve Been (Fake Happy) (ao3) - phantasticworks

Summary: Dan Howell is an up and coming actor in a closeted relationship with a man who isn’t ready to admit his sexuality. Phil is their Uber driver for a very important awards show. Things don’t go exactly to plan, but maybe that’s a good thing?

Based on the short film “Papercut” by Omad Productions (Somewhat, I got carried away)

Don’t Smile At Me (ao3) - luckysam78

Summary: actor!dan meets swimmer!phil and he realizes that he didn’t know what love meant before he fell into those ocean eyes.

Glitch (ao3) - det395

Summary: Phil wrote a movie screenplay

I’d Be Surprisingly Good For You (ao3) - amazingphiw

Summary: Phil Lester is an under appreciated film editor working behind the scenes. What happens when he gets the chance to talk to movie star Daniel Howell at a party?

/

Daniel Howell is a mediocre actor who only gets supporting roles and never the lead. What happens when a film editor he admires starts talking to him at a party?

i jump for my phone every moment it lights up (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Dan left YouTube behind to become an actor, but years later when coronavirus hits and forces him into self-imposed quarantine he rediscovers an old passion of his - AmazingPhil. He hadn’t counted on becoming internet friends with him, or falling in love for that matter.

I Want It, I Got It (ao3) - Yiffandquiff (paradisobound)

Summary: Phil Lester was a worker for the BBC in London. Working in the advertising department, he was content being alongside his friend and fellow coworker PJ during every shift. However, the BBC is temporarily being used as a film set for a new movie starring Hollywood ‘It’ star, Daniel Howell. Being stuck as an extra on the set, Phil finds it’s hard to ignore the famous star. And maybe, just maybe, Dan finds it hard to ignore Phil as well.

In My Way (ao3) - INeverHadMyInternetPhase (BirbWatcher)

Summary: Daniel Howell is 21 and Britain’s newest star. He’s just been cast in the much-anticipated film adaption of Last Man Standing, the popular teen fantasy novel with a huge fanbase hanging off his every tweet. In other words, Dan has made it big.

Phil Lester couldn’t care less. He’s a stressed out PHD student working part time at a bookshop while he struggles to get into post-production. He’s 26 and still lives in a tiny flat on the fifth floor of a building with a lift more broken than it is in use. He loves books, but he thinks big film adaptions screw with the plot too much.

Needless to say, Phil is less than impressed when Last Man Standing is getting filmed in his hometown. And he certainly doesn’t want anything to do with obnoxious, arrogant, so irritatingly perfect leading actor Daniel Howell.

Lights, Camera, Satisfaction (ao3) - americanphancakes

Summary: Dan’s landed a dream acting role, working with a director he’s always admired but is now crushing on badly. And today, he has to shoot a love scene. What could go wrong?

The Director!Phil AU that actually several people asked for.

looking for a little bit of hope these days (ao3) - danhoweiis

Summary: when dan begun his acting career he imagined he’d have to face many difficulties. sharing a dressing room with the guy he has a crush on however, wasn’t one of them

Moral of the Story (ao3) - yiffandquiff

Summary: Dan Howell and Phil Lester are big names in Hollywood, but their relationship is not what it seems. After a break up, Dan takes the time to reminisce about the start of him and Phil, only to come to his own moral of the story.

My Juliet (ao3) - RyRyCaptain

Summary: Phil is a world-famous playwright, and he’s directing his newest play, Romeo and Juliet. Dan is an actor who luckily receives the part of Juliet.

Of Paparazzi and Succulents (ao3) - worriedpeach (skeletonflowers)

Summary: Actor!Dan is running away from a mob of fans when he runs into a flower shop. There, he meets a quirky florist who has an absurd liking towards succulents, seeming to think they have feelings of their own.

(Shit) Maybe I Miss You (ao3)- localopa

Summary: dan’s an actor and phil’s a bbc radio 1 presenter. a film in colorado fucks things up.

Stage Lights and Sparklers (ao3) - husbants

Summary: When a friend from university asks Phil to direct his new musical on the West End, he is ecstatic. The only thing that would make him happier is if he got to direct musical sensation and actor, Dan Howell. As rehearsals begin, Dan and Phil realize that the drama might not end up being only on stage.

The Human Requirement to Breathe (ao3) - philsdrill

Summary: It’s a difficult life for Dan. Being famous and recognisable isn’t easy when you’re walking through a crowd of people… especially when you’re claustrophobic. Phil runs a coffee shop and an unusual customer ends up meaning more to him than he ever expected.

the last act of the show (ao3) - vvelna

Summary: Phil has made a living from faking relationships for nearly a decade. His new client is an actor named Dan Howell.

Visions, Voice, Person: The Soulmate Process (ao3) - Star4545

Summary: Visions, Voice, Dreams lead up to meeting your soulmate. Dan is a West End actor and Phil is teacher leaving them to busy schedules, but they work it out. They are soulmates after all.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: BEMIS. Part 2

READING THINGS SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO! 

Part one is here. Thanks Tumblr.  (please go read it)

Two issues left of this trash heap volume. Any time you think it can’t get worse you look at the next panel. 

NEXT ISSUE. We’re almost through this collection. This bread is not what I ordered. Send it back. 

ISSUE #192. 

(Spoilers: There are no sharks in this episode. For those of you waiting for the dolphins, that’s in vol 2)

Alright. In this issue. We open with Marc, Diatrice, and Frenchie sitting at the table having coffee. ANd Frenchie looks very dead and is in scrubs. 

I’MMA PAUSE FOR A SECOND. 

I will cover the Lemire run later. It’s inevitable and something I’m deeply looking forward to. 

The thing about the Lemire run is that it takes place at a time when ALL of Moon Knight’s original friends had left him. Gena, the kids, Crawley, Frenchie, Marlene… They had all been driven away. They were all in pain and either hated him, were disenchanted by him, or just pushed away. 

The Lemire run takes place with the Moon Knight system, Marc in particular, having a severe mental health crisis. 

DID is caused by extreme repeated trauma at a young age. It leads to dissociative episodes, and it is not uncommon for other issues to crop up (thanks trauma!). A lot of systems, if they have the health care, end up in and out of hospitals when they reach crisis points. 

In this run, a LOT of things happen that seem spectacular and fantastical and a lot of things that are grounded in reality. It’s hard to say if the whole thing happened or was really all just in Marc’s head. There is evidence for the latter. I’ll discuss that at a different time. But in this run, he witnesses his friends all leave him again. It’s a way for his mind to make sense of it and to let them go. To let go of the past and the pain associated with his friends departing him. In this world, Frenchie sacrificed himself to save them and died. 

So… Bemis is assuming that the audience took in the Lemire run at face value. He feels he has to explain away the events. He isn’t trusting the reader at all. In fact, he’s even going to try to explain it to the reader.  This is bad writing. This is just… Where is the editorial team? Why are they not explaining things to him? Did they even read his script? Or were they so desperate to feed off of the success of Lemire and get Moon Knight up and going again that they just shoved whatever they could at the fans and waited for the money? 

UNPAUSE. 

So this is why Frenchie is a zombie. He’s trying to explain away Frenchie’s ‘death’.

"Undead?" Frenchie asks Marc. 

"Well, no. Not really undead. Just dead. It's all I can visualize. Like when you seen an old person and think of them naked and then can't stop picturing it." 

"That's disturbing. But I'd be equally haunted if I had seen YOU get murdered in a waking nightmare of insane asylums and Egyptian Gods. You saw it. You felt it. It was real enough." 

(Also he has his legs.) 

There's one of those comic editorial notes in the corner: To find out what Marc's talking about, read the mind-bending Lemire/Smallwood Run! - ED

#^%#$$@ YOU ED. DO YOUR JOB AND ACTUALLY KEEP THE CONTINUITY AND EDIT THIS PILE OF-

deep breaths. deep breaths... We're going to get through this. 

So Zombie Frenchie talks to Marc about what Marc saw in the asylum. 

"Losing you was some kind of fantasy. You can chalk it up to me accepting my dissociative identity disorder, or me facing my demons...But I think I needed to see you die in order to make sense of your worth to me. That's not fair to you. You're my best friend." 

So close. He's SO close to getting the run. And I get the feeling it's spouting off what he was cliff noted about the run without either reading it himself or perhaps he did read it, didn't understand it, and someone had to explain it to him. 

It wasn't about him accepting his dissociative identity disorder or facing down his demons. It was so much more than that. 

At this point Frenchie pulls off his zombie look (literally) and is back to being a normal looking man. 

And we get what Bemis REALLY thinks is going on. 

"You think too much, Spector. You can picture whatever you want in that malfunctioning cranium of yours if it helps you make sense of the hand you've been dealt." 

"...Okay." 

"Now, Marc, are you actually hearing me, or are you still picturing some grotesque fantasy?" 

He’s just using things as an excuse to paint Marc with whatever mental illness he fancies at the time. Hallucinations are apparently now in the mix. What does Bemis actually think is mentally wrong with Marc? Did he do ANY research at all? Is he just pointing at the DSM randomly and picking out things that make the comic edgy or ‘funny’??

As Marc prepares to go, a brick smashes through their window. 

He climbs out the window, dramatic style, and finds Bushman and Truth and some other guys with guns waiting on the street below. 

Bushman has the landlord (a little old lady) at knife point. 

They tell Marc to meet them in the lobby or the old lady gets it. 

Oh look. Another jab at underlined villainous homosexuality. 

Just before Moon Knight can start trashing them all, and Bushman knows he would, Raoul tells him that Marlene is on the boat. 

Oh good. Khonshu's narration is back. I'd missed it. 

Honestly, any time Khonshu narrates it's just a lot of random metaphors, over explanation, or depictions on what's going on that aren't needed. 

He describes Marc being tied to a boat surrounded by his enemies with his fate unknown. ....as the comic shows him tied to a boat surrounded by his enemies with his fate unknown. 

Let the reader read the damn comic! 

Bushman goes against orders of the Sun King and decides to go toy with Marc. 

Never a good idea and everyone there knows it. 

He holds a knife to Marc's face. Well... Honestly, it’s in his style to do just this… Props for that I suppose. 

And Moon Knight makes his way around the top deck of the boat and takes out all the bad guys,circling back around to Bushman. 

"You don't scare me, Spector!" 

"I didn't want to have to do this to you again." 

And Marc cuts off two of Bushman's fingers then tosses them overboard. 

"You can replace those, but they'll never be yours again. And next time, I won't be satisfied with a piece of you. I'm not one of those super heroes who won't straight-up kill you, Bushman." 

It's fitting for what Moon Knight did from the 90s through early 2000s. As much as I disagree with it, it does fit for those times. 

He goes below deck and finds a bunch of sad looking people sitting around like refugees. 

Marc asks what's going on and he's told that they signed up for this. 

He talks to one of the kids who tells him they are going to an island to form a new city for only them. 

Back on deck, he finds Truth. 

"Unlike Raoul, I think I may have learned my lesson in trying to defeat you personally. Besides, I was tasked with your delivery to the Sun King. I just want to help you see what I see, Spector." 

For once, Truth is pretty reasonable. 

True uses his powers on Marc and it's just... 

"I have a vision every waking day. Lovers and dreamers piled waist-deep in the streets. I wade through piles of their slack, twisted bodies. Utterly powerless. Nauseated. It's my fear of this moment that motivates me, not the desire to save lives. The Fear that I've built my sanity on a lie. My hope for a better world is my most tragic form of dissociation." 

You know... I'm not even sure Bemis knows what dissociation really is at this point. 

Truth tells him that he's ready to face the Sun King now. 

They arrive on the island where the 'refugees' get off and go to make camp in the village that they found. 

OKAY. Okay. okay... here we go. 

So... I'm going to point out something here that someone probably should have mentioned to Bemis while editing this crap. 

The bad guy henchmen are all disabled people. People missing arms, legs, hands, eyes, on crutches, or fake legs and things. 

They follow around a man that looks like white Jesus that calls himself "Ra the God '' and "Sun King". They head to a place that Bushman called an "Undiscovered tribe of underdeveloped backwards people". They take over the island for themselves and he brings in other people to populate it....

He's literally colonizing it. 

The other bad guy is an overweight drug dealing black man with possible repressed homosexual desires for the good guy. The other bad guy is a large menacing tattooed white guy that makes people spout nonsense and calls it deep truth like characters in a Chuck Palahniuk novel! 

Is anyone else as fed up with this as I am? Am I reading too much into this? Is this really not as bad as I think it is? Because…this looks pretty bad. 

Moon Knight finds Sun King on the beach who welcomes him to "Isla Ra". 

"Soon this island will burgeon with those willing to light up this shadowy world. They're like us, Marc! The sickly, the fragile, the INSANE. Society's regrettable by-product, but to me...To us... They are everything!" 

He tells Moon Knight to relax. He knows that as long as Marlene is his prisoner, Marc won't do anything to risk her. 

"Take a catnap, Marc. We fight to the death tomorrow, but tonight we indulge in a ritual." 

"A ritual you probably just made up." 

"Ra feeds my mind what it needs to know." 

"You're going to drug me, aren't you?" 

"Sleep, Marc. Tonight we become enlightened." 

So... We see nightfall and Sun King and Marc sit before a camp fire. 

So of course we get an instant jab of homophobia. 

"Why did we have to do this half naked?" 

"Shhhh Let your mind unravel, Spector." 

"I don't do well with psychedelics, Sun King." 

"It was only tea." 

"It smelled like woodstock." 

I have a problem with this. Marc is telling him flat out that he doesn't do well with psychedelics. 

Studies have shown that certain drugs can actually trigger mental illnesses that are linked to chemical imbalances. Not to mention that if he happens to be on any drugs meant to help him, they could negate their effects, interact with them poorly, or make him very ill. 

We know Marc has been in and out of mental hospitals. We know he's been drugged before in these hospitals. Forcing him to take a psychoactive trip is not a cool thing to do for the dramatic storytelling. What’s going to happen is that we’re going to get a really trippy scene of them going into Marc’s ‘messed up’ mind and he’s going to learn things, find peace or some bullshit, and then be healed. 

This gives the wrong message that doing these potentially harmful drugs will fix all your problems! Especially if you have dissociative issues or other similar issues. 

ALSO. People with DID? Not all the alters respond the same way to inebriation. Some will get drunk if they look at a beer. Others can do a LOT of pot and not feel a thing. The brain is a fascinating and complex place. Marc could do psychedelics and Jake could just be having a nice time while Steven has the worst trip of his life. 

Sun King goes on. 

"We share what they label 'insanity'. That gives me a gateway into your beautiful, tortured mind. Let me in, Marc. Let US in." 

NOT ALL MENTAL ILLNESSES ARE THE SAME. ONE CRAZY DOES NOT ALL CRAZY MAKE. 

And Marc starts tripping. 

In Marc's mind, we find Marc, Jake, Steven, Khonshu, Sun King, and Ra. 

Ra calls Khonshu a "bad boy" and Khonshu calls Ra a "loathsome fascist." 

Marc tries to tell himself that this isn't real. Jake demands to know how Ra can be there if it's "all just made up by Marc's mind". 

"Steven is distressed and theorizes that "I think we've entered the world of metaphor, Jake. ANd it's scaring the hell out of me." 

Bemis must really dislike Steven Grant. He writes him as weak, cowardly, clingy, and narcissistic. Not a fan. 

So now, Ra takes hold of Khonshu and tells him to show him the truth. 

He spouts a lot of garbage here and it just... It's fanatical. It's... It's dangerous. 

What do I mean by that? He's talking about things like righteousness. About prophets and saviors and gives images of a world under idealistic circumstances where everyone gets along because he rules it. 

Marc snaps out of his trans by the fire to declare "No... Ra is....RIGHT?!" 

There was nothing right about that crap. It makes no sense. It’s just propaganda crap. There is no just and right and perfect in this vision. It’s a problem. A big problem. 

END ISSUE. 

One more to go. I can’t wait to put the Sun King behind us. 

After all? How much worse can it get? (spoilers so much worse. Sooooooo much worse). 

ISSUE # 193

I like how the past two covers have had NOTHING to do with the actual story inside. It’s like they are trying to make it look cooler and more dramatic than things are. 

Moon Knight in the jungle? I’d read that. Marc spent a lot of time in South America. Although, standing on his cape like that means he can't stand up without falling out of the tree. Just saying. 

Alright so... Marc went on a drug trp and came to the realization that Ra and Sun King were right for some reason? 

And this broke him and made him some passive weakling for some reason? 

We see him wake up the next day and being kicked around and dragged around because "the moon can't save me now." 

Then he's taken to a tent with some old lady outside knitting and she uses her flaming hot knitting needles to burn a sun into his back? 

Back with Frenchie and Diatrice, we see her praying to "Dear Mister Khonshu" and she asks that he not let "the bad men kill my daddy." 

She asks him to let Marc save her mom so they can be a family. 

Marc is pretty broken now and he's taken to see Marlene. 

He tells her that "this time is different"

"I know. He's different. I know because I'm actually scared." 

And Marc begs Marlene not to let Diatrice forget him because he's going to die. 

Why are they acting like Sun King is some super huge bad guy unlike any they have ever faced before? They have faced WORSE. 

He's fought ghosts. He's fought vampires. He's fought werewolves. He's faced aliens and apocalyptic events! 

Some hippy looking man with flames is NOTHING. 

HE'S FOUGHT SO MANY ANIMALS (I need to make a list). 

Marc is taken to a ring of fire and tossed inside to face the Sun King in a battle to the death. 

He tells Marc to fight like he means it or he'll hunt down his daughter and burn her to death. 

They fight and he takes a beating because suddenly Sun King knows how to fight? 

He sets fire to Marc more than a few times. 

Back in the head space, Jake tells Khonshu that they have to do something. 

I have real issue with the assessment here. 

Khonshu tells him: 

"Look around us. We're just faint firings of his synapses now. His defense against the darkness. As we have been since his childhood, and...Our connection is nearly severed. He is alone now, save for death itself." 

This is the belief that Marc is "the original" and that he created the others to deal with things and gave them all parts of himself. 

This is old thinking that people with DID were just shattered and broken bits of themselves that needed to be put back together. It's outdated. It's insulting. 

Why does everything Khonshu says just sound like absolute drivel? 

Like he was TRYING to be deep and just spouting off things that sounded metaphorical. It's just bad writing. He's clearly trying to copy Lemire. 

So he asks if Jake has ever believed in anything. 

And Jake remembers Diatrice. 

And they all take a moment to bask in the glow of their daughter’s memory. 

Then we get Steven’s version of what Khonshu said. 

Yeah. This is where that saying comes from. 

Somehow this gives them the ability to punch harder? 

And he starts beating on Sun King. 

He gets the Sun King to admit that he fears him now for some reason. 

And this makes everyone happy like some sort of 1980s movie.

And the Sun King can no longer use his fire. Because 

"I convinced you. Now Bow before me you horrible bastard." 

I'm not sure it works like that, Marc. But sure. You convinced him. 

And the Sun King bows down before him. 

"Thus ends the reign of the Sun King." 

And the people in the croud are cheering? Despite being there to support the Sun King and because they hate Moon Knight. 

Later we find Marlene bandaging up Marc's burns. 

The Truth stands by watching for the boat to return to get them off the island. 

"The man's cause is dead to me. Proven false by his impotence. I would undo any affiliation I had with him. I've found the facts of life to be more...Malleable than I realized. Maybe with some time in a room by myself...I might reassess my purpose." 

Yeah sure. A man is impotent because he lost a fight with another man and now no one believes in him. 

This is some fucked up masculine toxicity. 

Marc turns to address the other people on the island. 

"All of you just got stuck on a desert island because you let yourself get convinced of a bunch of crap by a completely mad super villain."

Uh huh. So the notion of him raising his own group of followers and warriors out of normal people. Cause that isn’t an issue. Obviously these people are easily swayed and maybe a bit fanatical. So telling them that you are now the new leader is not problematic at ALL. 

Also? That “I believe” in the back? 

We get a zoom in. I’m not going to show you the image. 

It’s Dr. Emmett! 

She's in her Moon Knight cloak thing (why would she bring that to the island with her if she was there following Sun King?). 

She's covered in burn scars and missing an eye. It's drawn to look like a rotten hole. 

Does no one believe in medical care here? Open eye holes are a problem. They run a risk of infection! Also they don't just stay open eye holes. The eyelids will collapse downward a bit. 

Anyways. She's back there going "I believe... I believe! Your doctor believes, Marc!" 

And the comic ends there. 

That was something alright. UGH. 

Give me a second to gather my thoughts up from this burning dump of ableism and poorly depicted mental health peppered with racism and anti-semitism. 

Volume one of Bemis is like a love letter to the kinds of people that think it’s fun and funny to show mentally ill people as dangerous, wild, unpredictable, and overall pathetic. 

The continuous use of language like ‘Insane’ and ‘Crazy’ is more than poor taste. It’s a constant reminder that we aren’t supposed to see Moon Knight as normal at all or even sympathies or identify with him. 

You see, there is a difference between “We have the power of crazy” and “You were the only superpower I ever had.” 

A big difference. 

In the former, it’s played up for laughs. Much like the old gags of seeing a man in a dress. It doesn’t age well but it persists. It persists because it still garners laughs. And the people that are still laughing are the people like Bemis. And he draws in more people who are like minded and he tells them it’s okay to keep laughing. 

The latter is a beautiful way to show that having DID was a powerful and wonderful way to be strong enough to survive when everything didn’t want you to. 

How did he get away with this? He is Bipolar. I’m not going to argue if he is or isn’t. I don’t know him and that’s his own personal history. I’m going to argue that being Bipolar does not give you the right to assume you understand ALL mental illnesses or that you can write for all of them. Or even lump crazy with crazy. 

Marvel is the sort to say “Ah yes, this person had a drink with a black person once so they should be able to write for Luke Cage.” Or “I took high school spanish so I can write for Miles Morales.” 

We can’t put up with this anymore. We can’t let them do this. We can’t let Marvel keep perpetuating things that hurt us. That hurt others. That keeps ripping the power away from those with so very little to begin with. 

So this is Vol 1 of Bemis. 

“But Drifting Pieces” you might say “How can it get worse than this? This was pretty bad.” 

My friend… You are in for a ride. 

PART THREE: HERE

[jenyifer]

Only friends 8/10 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

About a group of friends and the destruction of that friend group in a web of lies betrayals and revenge. The music and sets are beautiful amazing I literally listened to every song they carefully choose for each scene it was genius. Every character was morally grey and complex. Really showed queer stories. I’m a lesbian and there was many many times I could see my own life experiences in the characters. You will find a character to relate to and many of them you will fall in love with for whatever reason. The acting was fantastic ForceBook FirstKhaotung NeoMark deserve all the recognition and awards for their performances. I was surprised at the realism and twists the story took which is very rare for me I have to watch sci-fi horror films at home because I’ll guess the ending and get bored but who would have guessed a Thai Bl would stump me multiple times. I won’t change BostonNick’s story line to me their scenes even with being cut short with what feels like major parts missing is a 10/10. A real journey of the heart and I was hurt and also in love with the conclusion. The series is worth watching again and again for them.

Now…. You’ll notice it isn’t a 10/10… I’m going to get honest with you after the break. So If you don’t want my critique then leave.

I’m going to talk about my grips and how I’d fix them now and why I can’t I’m good conscious forgive these things.

1. Loss of the each episode for a character like the interviews or social media. I felt like these would have given us another angle on those boys. I understand they were trying to edit for the fans but… it is extremely sad. The first 4 episodes are perfection in my opinion.

2. Cheum is terrible lesbian representation. She’s a terrible character. I hate to think this is what queer men think lesbians are. She disappointed me over and over. I’d rather her not be in the story at all.

3. The glossing over of Boston’s torture throughout the series. Mew Cheum and Ray should have apologized to him. I wish Mew and Ray had been better friends in general I felt like I wanted to see the trio trying to incorporate eachother in their lives before the final episode. I wanted to believe at some point they cared for eachother. I wanted them to miss Boston when he was gone and to be guilty for what they fucking did.

4. Top and Mew terrible pairing. Mew is my least favorite character of all time. I have alot to relate to mew on. But he never became a character I could root for. Vindictive and Spiteful. I don’t know if he loved top or not. I don’t foresee that relationship lasting. I liked Top but you could see the bland oatmeal coating they gave him half way through I want the messy angry boy. I did want him to gain happiness but I doubt mew could ever give it to him. I will forever skip their boring scenes I’m glad I no longer have a reason to watch them. To fix this I would have made Mew nosey supportive into Ray and Boston’s lives just him being able to have long term friends would have made his character seem like he was capable of affection. To fix the TopMew scenes? Idk they always felt uneven Top tried so hard Mew was never punished for what he did. Mew became a worse person so maybe reverse that.

5. SandRay I love them I truely relate to Ray so deeply. However the way Ray treated Sand over and over wasn’t right. I hated it. His apologies to sand rang hollow he didn’t back them up. Sand adores Ray and I wish Ray adored Sand just as much but that’s not true. I have hope Ray would mature though.

Over all to fix things I would have given it more episodes there was clearly scenes missing structure that should have been there. I think the problem was the ships had to be so segmented from eachother. Top and Mew could have benefited from more of them interacting with Ray and Cheum. The actual friendship bonds explored would have helped. I also wish they hadn’t swept Bostons revenge P and expose account under the board. Ray having real change in attitude towards sand would have been rewarding as well. I hope there is a season 2 so badly. I have to see BostonNick get their healthy happy ending too.

[lady-assnali]

Meet You After Dark (3)

Here it is! In this part, we get to find out what really happened when Princess Marcia took that strange potion….

This au has been my baby, so I hope you enjoy it because it’s been a beautiful thing to work on. Thank you to @jinkx-monswoon for being half the brainchild for this fic, and for editing and having to witness my horrific writing process (so many half written sentences, So many typos. Just…this entire au came out of my brain completely unhinged and now that we’ve both edited it multiple times it’s finally good enough to post.)

Parts ONE and TWO

……

It’s quiet.

Anetra walks steadily along the stone halls, brushing a finger along the weathered texture as her mind wanders. The princess hadn’t answered her knocks tonight, not even after she’d come back and tried a second time. Instead she’s been taking her well-rehearsed path alone, listening to the fall of her footsteps echo against the empty space, her only company. It’s strange doing this by herself, not having Marcia’s laughter or excited whispers to fill her time. It’s boring without her, this pacing around. It gives too much time for thinking about the things she’s been trying to avoid. At least with the Princess’s company there’s conversation to distract from her feelings. Now, her mind plays around with her in a cruel combination of thoughts she’s pushed to the side.

Maybe Marcia’s done with her.

Maybe she’s annoyed.

Maybe they weren’t even friends to begin with. 

She refuses to believe the thought even though it’s the domineering voice above all else. She can’t bring herself to believe that things may have been imaginary between them, not when they’d shared so many real conversations and thought-out ideas with each other. Marcia’s smile is not performative; Anetra had had a few opportunities to witness the difference between Princess Marcia entertaining a court and Marcia telling silly, fantastical stories with her just to keep her entertained. No, the princess is not a fraud by any stretch of the imagination. She is one of the most genuine people she’s met in her life.

Maybe she’s fallen asleep.

It’s been two days since she’d cried about her impending marriage, two days of visitors coming in and out of the castle, the guard on constant high alert. They’re made to know every florist, every designer, every consultant that comes in and out of the palace. Every visitor as of late has had something to do with the wedding whose engagement hasn’t even been announced, and each time Anetra has been able to catch a glimpse of Marcia she looks less and less like herself.

There had been a moment just yesterday morning when they’d managed to lock eyes across the room during a light breakfast banquet. Anetra had tilted her head slightly, blinked once. Marcia had only shrugged, returning to pretending to eat while pushing the food around on her plate, gracious and charismatic above her tired posture and disconnected thoughts. 

Which is why she’d gone to check on her twice. Seeing the Princess’s light so dimmed has been worrying. Not seeing her in private has been worse.

Anetra is woken from her thoughts by the pounding of footsteps coming her way. Stopping abruptly she draws her sword, takes a defensive stance as her heart begins to race. But turning the corner is a knight not much older than herself, barreling through the halls with wide eyes full of alarm.

“The Princess is dead!” 

The voice floats in the air above her as the other knight runs away, shouting into each corridor they pass. The words filter through her ears, in and out, her brain unable to process. It isn’t until she’s gasping for air that the knight realizes she’s forgotten to breathe. The front of her face is numb, locked in a sensation that does not hurt but rather paralyzes, like being hit on the wrong part of a bone during a fight. 

She doesn’t process the word dead for quite some time, her mind simply unable to wrap around the sentence as a whole and what it might mean. When she does, however, a rush of adrenaline kicks in. Her feet carry her when she is unable to move them herself, her mind creating echoes of the clamoring around her. She runs alongside other guards and then runs faster, surpassing them all without thinking twice about how she’s going to be perceived. Taking a corner too sharp, her body slams against the wall, ricocheting her sideways. She catches herself, cursing under her breath at the throbbing pain in her shoulder. She barely loses speed, merely clutches the surely bruised area as she thunders on. She knows the path by heart from any part of the castle grounds, memorizing it solely for moments like this.

Just in case. She’d been trained to keep watch. She’d been trained for these situations. She should’ve been stronger, faster, better—just in case.

There’s a crowd when she reaches Marcia’s hallway: other members of the guard, the royal healer. From where she approaches, Anetra can barely see through the throng of people who have chosen to keep a respectable distance. They’re about four doors away from the place she’d let her heart live.

From her stoic guard by the door Sasha notices her, makes eye contact and shakes her head slightly. With two fingers she gestures to her left arm, tapping the space there twice. It’s code, and an unwritten one at that. None of the guard at Anetra’s ranking or age will know what has transpired, and it’s so subtle and quick that she’s sure nobody else picked up on it either. There’s no easy translation, just the knowledge that Sasha will fill Anetra in as soon as possible. It’s not at all reassuring, but it’s something. Then, she sees it.

Sasha shakes her head.

It isn’t a lot; nothing too powerful, or too noticeable. But it’s enough to break Anetra in two right in the throng of her fellow brothers and sisters.

She pushes through the crowd, every written rule suddenly meaningless. There’s a wall of grunting, of voices grumbling in protest and bodies no match for her adrenaline-fueled fight response. She breaks the sea of guards standing in her way. The distance to the door seems to stretch on forever, her mind becoming numb upon thinking about just what might be on the other side of that door. When she reaches Sasha she nearly falls at her feet, gives it all away right there. The older knight catches hold of her arm, steadies her and pats her shoulder.

“Ser Anetra has become close to the Princess in her time serving the kingdom. She’s shown exemplary loyalty and value.. The princess has taken to her, and has found in her a close friend and confidant, which is why the situation at hand may have sent her into a bit of a hysteria.” 

Sasha studies the younger knight, whose face has grown pallid and unwavering in its expression. She nudges her, looking her over with eyes both disciplinary and motherly. Anetra bows awkwardly, only noticing the King and Queen’s presence so close to her own because of Sasha’s subtle hint at decorum. Apologies fly from the younger knight’s lips in rapid, broken sentences.

“It’s alright, Ser. We are both aware of the kind of toll news like this might take on a close friend.” The King betrays himself with his crooked brow, suspicion written all over his face. Sasha fervently shakes her head, holds Anetra’s shoulders with both hands.

“She is one of the best we have knighted within many years here. She is genuine. Believe me and take my own place as commander as proof of my judge of character. She would do anything to keep your kingdom safe, especially your daughter.”

This seems to satisfy the royals, who bow to both of the knights in apology.

“This has come as quite a shock to us. When we learned that the doctor was sending for the opinion of an apothecary…”

“It’s frightening, indeed. Why would our daughter—our brilliant, accomplished daughter—do this on her own accord?”

“She wouldn’t. Which begs the question of who could have done this…and why was the bottle in her possession in the first place? The stamping on the bottom does not match our apothecary’s seal; it is foreign to us. What lengths did this person have to go? And to what effect?”

Anetra stands shock-still, listening to the conversation with rapt attention and trying to piece together the details. There’d been a potion. Marcia hadn’t answered both times she’d stopped by to meet her for their walk. Had she taken the potion by then? And the effects…

“We can thank the powers that be that our Princess is merely bedridden for now.” Sasha supplies the information subtly, brushing her fingers against Anetra’s lightly. “I’m wondering if the slumber is just a temporary effect of it all.”

“It’s possible that she’s been so tired from the wedding planning that she simply needed something to aid in her sleep.” The queen prattles on about it all for a while, her hand smoothing down her gown and her hair and her husband’s shirt in an attempt to keep busy.

A person with bright orange hair and a subtly celestial robe emerges from the door, dark circles plaguing their eyes and a harrowed frown upon their lips. They sigh, scanning the mass of people congregating down the hall before turning their attention to the King and Queen.

“She will sleep. No harm will come to her in this state. I have taken the bottle to sample the liquid against some of my own in order to research its properties and gather a better understanding of it all…this way, we should hope to be able to wake her. There are several ingredients evident upon the use of sight and smell which do indicate foul play, but I will know much more in just an hour’s time if given the chance to take this last drop back to my workspace.”

There’s a murmured conversation between the royals and the apothecary, Anetra unable to focus on any of it. Her eyes are trained on the little glass bottle, the catalyst of the princess’s downfall. The last remaining bit of liquid is enchanting, milky and pearlescent, glimmering against the light of the candles and torches which have been lit along the hall. Its strikingly beautiful nature is not unlike Marcia herself, especially with the magnificent, hypnotic quality of the way it whirls around in the bottle. 

Her fingers itch to take the glass from the apothecary’s hand, to swig the last drop of potion for herself. In the depths of her mind she knows that’s a brainless idea; drinking it would do nothing to help, mean nothing except putting herself in this same situation. 

“You have only a brief moment.” A hand prods Anetra, jolting back into the present with a start. Her mind had taken control of her, had spun horribly vivid scenarios involving a future without the Princess—without Marcia. Her lips are a thin line, her body stoic and unmoving. Blinking, she realizes that they are the only ones left by the door. The hall is restored to careful silence. Sasha prods her again, this time bumping her enough to loosen her balance.

“I am giving you a gift and risking my own position here. If you don’t take it, I can assure you that you’ll find it to be one of the biggest regrets of your lifetime.”

“What?”

“Go in.” Sasha glances around the hall, taps twice on the door in show. “See her. Be with her. She’ll need your strength to survive this.”

“The apothecary said—”

“Damn them. Damn them, and do not repeat this but I wish the same upon the King and the Queen in this moment. They’re unable to see what their actions have done.”

“What do you mean by this?”

“I have known the Princess a very long time. She has been polished and charming and perfect her entire life. She has been the absolute pinnacle of royalty. But she has also been extremely reticent about her feelings in every aspect of her life. She has tried so hard to make the King and Queen proud and to please everybody that she has forgotten that she deserves to feel happiness in the same way the people in her life do.”

“I have only known her a short time, and yet I agree. Our last walk together was rather difficult. Quiet. This was two nights after she confessed that she does not wish to be married. The look on her face—”

“The princess does not wish to be married because she’s in love with you.”

Ser Sasha is sure to meet Anetra’s eyes when she says this, not wanting the younger knight to have any excuse to misconstrue her words. She hadn’t meant to meddle—had been intent on letting the blossoming romance come to fruition on its own in due time. But with the news of a wedding so soon in the year, the princess’s weeping, and Anetra’s own state of distress, the admission is a necessary motivator. She’s sure of this fact when the younger knight stares back at her in awe, shaking her head fervently.

“Princess Marcia is adoring of all of her people. She and I have become close friends as I was able to help her through some of the harsher emotions she’d been feeling. She doesn’t feel that way for me.”

“But she admitted it herself.” Sasha rushes through her words, eyes scanning the halls for the possibility of incoming footfalls. “The princess felt ill during her fitting, quiet and submissive and lacking that light of hers… And after everyone had gone, she fell to her knees and wept. Anetra, she wept over you. I would tell you the things she said but I have confidence that one day you will be able to hear them from her own lips. For now, you need to go to her.”

“Your position…”

“My position is to protect the family. I am their first line of defense. Sending you in to look after their daughter further is the most noble, dutiful thing I am able to offer this family. And if I am in turn protecting someone I consider to be a member of my own family? That’s luck.”

Anetra’s heart swells with a wave of emotion; never had she experienced the immense grief or immeasurable thanks that fill her at this moment. She bows to Sasha, a hand over her heart, before the older knight pulls her into a tight embrace. Then, she lets Anetra out of her arms with haste.

The young knight pulls on the handle of the tea green oak, the familiar creak of the hinges making her eyes close involuntarily. How many times during their nightly walks had Anetra tried to avoid that same noise, to keep their wandering a secret just for them? The very thing that brought them together has signaled what could be her last time seeing the Princess, and the thought of it almost stops her in her tracks.

“Go.”

She follows Sasha’s orders, stepping one foot warily into the room before shutting the door gently behind her, as if not to wake the sleeping princess.

It’s the first time she’s been in this room, and her nerves are pin-prick signals traveling up and down the length of her body with each of her slightest movements. The space is lit by a vigil of candles: long, short, stubby… Some hang from a large and stately chandelier while others litter the floor, keeping each inch of space visible. There’s the pink silk robe the princess had worn on their first walk, hanging in the open door of an ornate armoire against the wall. There’s flowers strung by their stems by the windows, dried out and displayed in organized arrays of muted color. There’s an easel propped in the corner of the room, a canvas revealing a painting only just begun, a few strokes of bellflower blue in an abstract shape.

She nearly loses her footing, stumbling and catching herself on the windowsill. Looking down, Anetra finds her boot to be tangled in a mass of white lace, which she shakes off confusedly, grunting at the impact of her hands on the rough stone of the windowsill. The lace is connected to a garish white gown haphazardly discarded on the floor, brushed halfway underneath a bench. The knight picks up the dress delicately, brushes off the bits of dirt that have collected on its surface. It’s truly a masterpiece—although clearly unfinished, still stuck with needles along the hemlines. It’s with a start that Anetra realizes that this is the wedding gown. This is the gown that the seamstresses have been working countless hours on, compiling the most beautiful lace and having it delivered to the kingdom with the utmost haste. This is the gown that Marcia is to be wed in within the year, notwithstanding the current predicament. It’s been thrown on the floor; discarded; cast away.

She can see the look on Marcia’s face from when she had admitted to the upcoming engagement.

Maybe, in her own way, the Princess had been asking for help-asking her to stay.

It takes Anetra longer than she’d care to admit to look over to Marcia’s bed. Her mind is busy conjuring up scenarios, possible pictures of what her favorite companion might look like. She’s not even sure what to make of the information she’d been prepared with; a potion unknown to the royal apothecary, a weeping princess, a supposed admittance of love…

It’s that one little word—four letters she’s never felt before but feels so deeply, the swell of her heart that will not be ignored. She’d suspected as much from the way she’d begun to count down the minutes until her night patrol started, or the way she’d find her eyes lingering on the princess any moment she’d be able to see her during the day. 

It hits her all at once, crashes into her hard and fast, nearly knocking her over with its monstrous weight.

She’s in love with Marcia. She’s so irreversibly in love with her that she’s not sure how they’ve only just recently met, how she’ll ever be able to live a life without her wide, illuminating smile or the musical sound of her voice. She doesn’t want to know—can’t know…so she takes another lap around the room, admiring the steady organization of it all. Everything has its place here. Everything fits.

Until the knight’s eyes meet the bedpost and her knees go weak.

She closes the physical distance with shaking legs and stands by the bedside with a face distorted by anguish.

Swathed in flickering golden light, Marcia is the most ethereal she has ever looked. Her long blonde locks are neatly arranged, laid gently on her pillow. Her eyes are closed, her lips in an unmoving pout. They’ve covered her in a thick quilt, lain her arms over top with her hands one on top of the other. Every piece of her is so delicate, so gentle.

So completely still.

Moved by a fusion of curiosity and genuine horror, Anetra bends over to examine Marcia closer. There is no air coming from her nose. Her chest does not rise and fall. She is not any more pale than her naturally fair skin, the freckles that dust her nose and cheeks still visible. She’s almost flushed, cheeks a delicate shade of pink that touches the tip of her nose. It looks almost as if she’s spent too much time in the cold without a robe. Or like she has a secret she’s guarding close to her chest.

Like being in love.

The conversation with Ser Sasha has been sitting in the back of her mind since she’d opened the door to Marcia’s chamber. It’s too good to be true, surely. There has to be some mistake within her thinking, some kind of misunderstanding that would have caused the older knight to believe that Anetra’s love might just be reciprocated. It seems like a child’s fantasy—a bedtime story told to children who had parents to demonstrate just what love truly was. Anetra hadn’t had that. She hadn’t had anything. 

Growing up alone had been hard. Being accepted into the knighthood had taken years of bloody, tearful work. But growing up within a community of people who would train such a young child had given her a family, and switching into the palace guard had given her another. She’d been jostled and bumped from place to place, ridiculed for being alone and then thrust into new brotherhoods when she was deemed to be too skilled for her standing. Through all her life, she had come to adopt this sense of semi-permanence in her heart. She’d wondered when she’d find where she truly belonged.

This story, this bedtime fantasy, this child’s fodder…it has to be enough.

She’s found where she belongs. She’s sure of it.

Her home is lingering on the precipice of death, and it takes Anetra to her knees.

She grabs hold of the Princess’s hand, laces their fingers together. Her skin is still warm to the touch, soft as silk against her work-hardened hands. She brings Marcia’s hand to her lips and kisses it tenderly, looking upon her with tear-glazed eyes. She can’t focus, can’t breathe… The chamber around them is awash with a mist that takes everything else away, every last stone and dried flower and the easel with its masterpiece in progress. She is stuck in this tunnel, only able to see the Princess laying still before her. She’s stuck on all of the stories she could have been told as a child and focused on their endings, and there’s a part of her that begins to believe that maybe it all could be true. 

At this point, with death lingering so closely, Anetra is willing to believe in anything, try anything to get Marcia back.

She puts one hand on the mattress, runs her fingers along the delicate quilting of Marcia’s blanket. She hovers, one hand holding Marcia’s while the other cards softly over her forehead, through her hair. Anetra leans in, lips inches away from the Princess’s, but then pulls herself back rather swiftly. It all feels so wrong, this thing she’s wanted to do for so long. The princess isn’t awake, isn’t able to tell her if this is what she truly wants. Sasha had insisted, but without the words from Marcia herself the fairytale feels a bit distorted. 

If this is to work, it’s now or never. No time to dwell.

The knight touches Marcia’s cheek with tender, feather-light fingers before she lowers herself again. This time, her lips graze the corner of the Princess’s mouth, still soft and pouted. She feels the rush of butterflies in her chest, the way they move up her arms and down her legs, tickling her senses with adrenaline. Hope fills her to the brim, carrying itself over to the impatient shuffling of her feet and the pause in her breathing.

Nothing happens.

Marcia lays still, ethereal as ever.

Anetra sinks, crashes down hard from the disappointment. She supposes a child’s tale would have been too good to be true, or that perhaps there’d been a miscommunication in the way the stories had been passed from knight to knight. Maybe the stories only worked for royalty, or people who’d had families to tell them. Either way, the Princess is still asleep and Anetra can’t bear the sight of her knowing that there is nothing left to do but wait with the rest of the crowd.

She’s not looking to overstay a lost cause. There’s too much pain in this room now.

She takes one last look at the Princess, bends to kiss her one last time before averting her eyes, preparing herself to make her somber way out of the chamber and never return.

“I know who you are.”

Anetra stills at the sound, jolted by the faint whisper of that melodic voice she so adores. It must be a hallucination, a drop of the potion having touched her lips and poisoned her as well. Otherwise, this could only be a miracle. The hand she’d been holding tightens around her, tugging at her wrist and pulling her back toward the bed.

Marcia’s sitting up.

Marcia’s staring at her, big brown eyes welling with unshed tears.

Marcia’s awake.

“I remember you,” she repeats, her other hand reaching forward for her. The knight’s feet carry her without needing any more prompting.

Marcia’s hand finds her cheek, her thumb carefully tracing the line of her jaw, memorizing the curve of it with immense care. Anetra finds her own hands cradling the Princess’s face, wiping away any tears that threaten to fall. 

“Anetra,” The Princess gasps, her words coming out in breathless whispers. “I’m so sorry.” 

“An apology isn’t needed… Somebody did this to you.”

“I asked for it.” She buries her face, muffling the cries that ultimately spill out into her hands. “I asked them to help me forget you.”

“...Oh.” The knight freezes, the pieces of the puzzle connecting in her mind with terrible clarity.

“That’s all it was supposed to do. I was supposed to wake up and be able to go through with it all—the wedding. Forgetting you was the only way I was going to go through with that marriage. I don’t want anybody else. I can’t think of anybody else. I only want you.”

“Me?” The words are still so unbelievable, even coming straight from the Princess’s lips. Marcia’s looking up at her now, clinging tightly to herself.

“Your kiss woke me up, did it not? Does that mean something to you?”

“It means that my world is no longer shattered.” Anetra doesn’t dare break eye contact, not even as tears now pour from her own eyes. “It means I can breathe again. And it means I need to say this now, while we have a moment of time without interruption.”

She sits gently on the side of the bed, fingers touching Marcia’s hand until the princess holds on tight.

“I love you with every last piece of my heart. I have loved you for a long time, I think. You are so radiant, so open and loving and kind. You walk into a room and the world falls in love with your smile, your heart, your quick wit… The breadth of it all is immeasurable, and when I thought I had lost you, everything fell into place.”

Marcia’s heart fills with an unmistakable warmth. “I have never been happier than to hear those words.”

She pulls Anetra close, pecking her lips with a brush of shyness. When the knight smiles against her she urges on, shifts to her knees to press herself against her. When she pulls away, it’s reluctant, her face still only inches away from the knight’s. She traces the line of Anetra’s scar with her fingertip, unable to take herself away from her gaze.

“I love you,” She sighs, her head falling onto Anetra’s shoulder. “If that wasn’t clear.”

“It’s clear, but I’d like another reminder if you’ll allow it.”

Anetra tips the Princess’s chin, her heart skipping around in her chest as Marcia’s incandescent smile is finally restored, giggling a bit under the knight’s ever-so-gentle touch.

Their kiss is fervent, Anetra steadying the Princess’s body with two sturdy hands on her hips, aflame in each place that they connect.

There’s footfalls in the hall. Anetra pulls away, Marcia whining at the loss of contact. They sit knee to knee, chest to chest, listening as the noise falls quiet again. Anetra presses her lips to the Princess’s forehead, her nose, then languidly to her lips.

“Ser Sasha is outside. Everyone’s waiting for the apothecary. They’re examining the potion, looking to see what you took.”

“And I’ll tell them.” The blonde huffs, indignant. “They can ask me, and I will be honest. They haven’t heard a word I’ve said for months now, only what they want to hear. And if they don’t hear this after what I have been through, then maybe they don’t deserve an heir at all.”

“Your father…”

“My father will understand or he will disown me. I am better for either of the two options, because in both we will be together.”

“And you’re sure that this is what you want?”

“I have wanted you for a long time. Waking up to your kiss confirms what had been in my heart and my mind all along; there is nobody else for me.” 

Anetra grazes her thumb over the princess’s lower lip, then kisses her once more. Marcia hums in delight, eyes fluttering shut as that same wash of golden warmth that woke her spins around her, consumes her with a pleasant shiver in Anetra’s arms. The knight pulls back at first, but cannot keep herself from showering each bit of exposed skin with gentle, amorous lips. 

“I suppose we should be telling the kingdom the good news.” She speaks between kisses and Marcia’s soft hands trailing her body with heightening urgency. “We cannot stay here forever, no matter how much I would like to.”

The princess sits back, wide-eyed and flushed, and runs her fingers through her long blonde hair.

“You go—I’d like them to see me bedridden one more time. I want them to know just how serious this is.”

The knight moves to stand, but is held back by Marcia’s hand on her arm. The princess giggles, smoothing out Anetra’s hair and straightening her clothing. Then, she dramatically flops back down onto the bed, covering herself up with a wave.

“We will be together.” She’s softened, a hint of nerves and vulnerability hiding behind the confident smile she wears. Anetra puts her hand over her heart, looking down at the Princess with unparalleled warmth.

“Always.” 

Then at last, she departs, and turns to open the tea green door that will lead her to their fate.

[the-thoughtdaughter]

I totally agree with you 😭 right, I love blonde Tom blyth NOT coriolanus snow. I have never and will never be a snow defender, people actually DEFEND?! Him? However, I think you can like the complexity of the character without supporting their actions or defending them. I don’t think it’s so cut and dry, and I think part of enjoying media is when you can appreciate a objectively HORRIBLE character and delve into their actions and intentions. Like this boy is awful from the get go in the book w his internal monologue, but the whole point of the film is you ARE fooled by him and I loved watching my friends who haven’t read the book fall for it too, because he IS attractive and charming. The tiktok LUST over that character freaked me out fully. Like pretty privilege at its worse 😭 I even saw edits over ADULT?! Snow 😭 apparantly dictators are ~dreamy~

i agree!! coriolanus snow is FANTASTIC for character analysis

i just hope the analysis isn’t “he’s hot” 😭🤚

[switch]

alright it’s time for Switch’s List of October/Halloween Games: Updated Edition

any game listed here either is a horror game, or has suitable aesthetics/theming, and on the older or niche side. naturally, disclaimer to check content warnings on any game you may be interested in.

bolded games: full recommendation to check out

italic games: mostly here for the sake of being thorough, they’re not well-liked and i wouldn’t personally recommend them, but they may be a curiosity or you may find something you like

bolded italic games: picture i’m making the so-so hand gesture. there may be technical hurdles to running it, or it’s just a game i have more mixed feelings on.

if you want the best Myst-like game, which makes well-balanced QoL improvements to the genre that allows it to appeal to both myst-like enthusiasts and people who might not normally like them, with fantastic audio/visual design: play Shivers

if you want one of the best adventure games and one of the best story adaptations ever made: play I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream

if you want a uniquely free-form dark humor adventure game that still has a plot, different endings, different playable characters, optional objectives, and the 2nd most unpleasant visuals i’ve ever seen (and i mean this as a compliment): play Bad Day on the Midway

if you want the most unpleasant visuals i’ve ever seen (this is a compliment), a highly unique adventure game with multiple endings, and you also want to support a creator-revived game that was inaccessible for years and isn’t talked about enough: play Garage Bad Dream Adventure

if you want an adventure game with frequently obtuse mechanics but fantastic stop-motion visuals and a more subdued (but still dark) tone than some of the cheesier games here: play The Dark Eye (1995)

if you want another one of the best entries in the adventure game genre, featuring highly creative levels and a narrative that’s a lot more genuine and cohesive than the premise might make you think: play Sanitarium

if you want a unique shock-horror comedy adventure game with a highly engaging first half if it falls apart during the last third: play Harvester

if you want an action adventure game that had a lot of interesting ambition put into it, but ended up a technical mess and overshadowed by resident evil 1: play Zombieville (1997, EU) (game can be finished but is unstable and can failstate, its TCRF page discusses these issues)

if you want a cornerstone early point and click horror game with fun music, fun visuals, and cheesy FMV: play The 7th Guest

if you want the worst aspects of The 7th Guest but dialed up to 11: play The 11th Hour

if you want a Shivers game that is pretty much Shivers in name only, but does keep the improvements 1 made to the Myst-like genre: play Shivers 2 (please play 1 as well)

if you want another landmark entry in point and click horror with a lot of gratuitous shock horror/gore and cheesy FMV acting, but with a higher degree of intensity and taking itself seriously than Harvester: play Phantasmagoria

if you want a Phantasmagoria game that even Phantasmagoria fans are mixed-to-negative on: play Phantasmagoria 2, i guess

if you want a CD-ROM horror-themed boardgame with sick bongo music and a disembodied voice frequently heckling you: play Atmosfear: The Third Dimension…?

if you want an action-adventure game with deliberate platforming, punishing combat, weapon unlocks that are so busted it’s fun, fantastic level design+music, and one of the only works to successfully pull off “what if alice was dark”: play American McGee’s Alice (try to get the original release if you can, not the post-madness returns 2011 version, but it’s not a dealbreaker)

if you want american mcgee’s alice with overall worse combat and more filler, but with highly improved, responsive platforming and the addition of a rewarding collectible system, with a cathartic narrative: play Alice Madness Returns

if you want one of the best survival games i’ve ever played with one of the best narratives in a VN-influenced format i’ve ever read: play Pathologic Classic HD (it’s fine to use a walkthrough)

if you want more pathologic and you’re fine with playing a game that’s probably never going to be finished: play Pathologic 2

if you want a short, honest-to-goodness 2009 art game/walking simulator with minor collectible elements, multiple endings, and beautiful music and visuals: play The Path

if you want a good h.r. giger horror adventure game: play Dark Seed

if you want (this will explain everything) a Dark Seed game that even Dark Seed fans are mixed-negative on: play Dark Seed 2

if you want a cornerstone graphic adventure game that is a functional evolution of Mystery House, with a murder mystery and a shocking amount of detail and different things that can happen and good replay value: play The Colonel’s Bequest

[rosenlied]

Ranking every single fes card in Project Sekai

(This is just my opinion so do not get mad)

27. Tsukasa: I’m sorry Tsukasa I love you but what even is that card? If it was an untrained then it would be whatever but as a Fes card it’s very underwhelming if not straight up disappointing. The outfit looks plain and that’s not even getting into how dull the lighting is. I wasn’t expecting the best card in the game but for a Fes card it sucks so hard. I've seen some people say that it's supposed to show him in a more casual light but even then D4DJ's X-Cross Beat and Side Nova cards exist. There was no reason for it to look that bad when D4DJ has shown how good cards showing characters in a more casual light can be.

26. Saki: I’m sorry Saki I do like you but that card really isn’t anything special. It’s just a generic by the pool card to the point where I thought it was an edit when I first saw it. It’s not as bad as Tsukasa’s card but to say I’m not a fan is an understatement. 

25. Emu: Man they really blew it with the last trio of Fes cards huh? This card isn’t bad per se but it just looks and feels bland, which is not what you want from an Emu card. Its cool to see a more mature side of her but it’s just overall very bland all things considered. Love the hairstyle though, especially as a Kamisato Ayaka and Kirari Momobami fan.

23-24. Rin/Len: Look these two are more or less the same card so I’m treating them as such. They aren’t bad but I really don’t care for how bright they are, it just feels blinding and not in a good way. Sorry Kagamines fans. 

22. Miku 2: This card is cool but it doesn’t really stand out, especially among the other darkness festa cards. I love the drills though and I really hope they were referencing Teto with that. 

21. Luka: See what I said for Miku. It’s a cool card but for as much as I love Luka it just doesn’t hit as hard as the other Darkness Festa cards. 

20. Honami: She looks gorgeous here but there’s unfortunately really not much going on. It’s not a bad card, it’s just not really my cup of tea. 

19. Airi: I get what they wanted to go for here but it just kinda falls a bit flat for me. Sekai sadly took a while to find its footing with colorful cards (though I may be comparing them to much to Bandori’s) and this one is nothing special. The untrained on the other hand is fantastic. 

18. An: I love the concept for this card a lot, I just think they could’ve done way more with it in terms of colors and what not. Still it’s not bad, and I love how her hair references Nagi’s.

17. Mafuyu: I can’t be biased here I’m sorry. I adore Mafuyu and the sinking effect is cool but it’s not anything to write home about. She has way better cards even if I do love the idea of an underwater library. 

16. Minori: This card is super cute but I’d hesitate to call it anything special. Her smile is precious though. 

15. Rui: love the concept for this one but I feel like it’s greatly overshadowed by other Rui cards. It’s a nice card don’t get me wrong but it just doesn’t hit as hard as his Yokai card or his cyberpunk card. 

14. Mizuki: See what I said for their boyfriend. I like this card but it’s very overshadowed by other better Mizuki cards and overall isn’t anything special outside of the Niigo plushies.

13. Ichika: I actually like this card quite a bit. I thought it was bland at first until I took another look and realized that it symbolized her learning to express herself. The main thing that sadly holds it back for me is the existence of Rainbow Canvas Emu and the Nomad cards which all do the paint concept so much better. 

12. Kanade: For being an earlier Fes card this really holds up. The background was gorgeous, I just feel like my only problem is that you can barely see Kanade. Granted Haruka’s Hopeful Show card is worse in this regard but still. 

11. Akito: He looks cool here. Not much else to say. I actually prefer the untrained, he looks so happy.

10. Miku (1): I love seeing Miku look like the goddess she is, and seeing her soar through the sky is very cool. For being an early Fes card I’m shocked that it holds up this well.

9. Ena: I love the use of browns in this card and it’s really nice to see her look like an actual professional artist. She’s just in her own little world doing what she loves and I love that for her. 

8. Kaito: Holy shit this card. He looks so cool, so badass. Also the basketballs are a nice touch. 

7. Kohane: As someone who does photography as a hobby I love this card. It’s so cool, and I love the kaleidoscope aesthetic. Between this and Take the Best Shot they’ve been focusing more on Kohane’s photography skills and I’m so glad. 

6. Meiko: I don’t know what I can say here, she just ate this up. I love how cool and mature she looks, it’s just a great card overall. 

5. Shizuku: Dear god where do I even begin? The puzzle pieces? The butterflies? She just looks stunning and I love how mature she looks here. Goofy Shizuku is great don’t get me wrong but her mature serious side rocks as well. 

4. Nene: As a former theatre kid I’ll never not eat this card up, she looks so cool! I love the Broadway inspirations as well it makes perfect sense for her character. Bonus points for the untrained implying that Hamilton is canon in the Sekai universe, that’ll never not be funny.

3. Shiho: I love how stylized this card is, to this day it really feels like we haven’t seen a single other Sekai card try that kind of style. She just looks so cool and determined and oh my god the bright lights with the signs make this. 

2. Haruka: ok I may be a little biased but can you blame me? She looks ethereal here. I love the use of blues and her the birds flying. 

1. Toya: This is both me being biased and loving the symbolism. I love how this card shows Toya’s growth with the piano and how he’s beginning to face it. Also the sad yet slightly thankful expression he has kills me every time.

[sloshed-cinema]

Fantasy A Gets a Mattress (2022)

Always. Be. Posting. In his endless hustle to become rap king of Seattle (move aside, Sir Mix-A-Lot and Macklemore), days for Fantasy A are filled with posting flyers for his gigs and filming music videos. So long as the bus connections are timely, that is. Or at least that’s the dream. Reality isn’t quite so simple as he’s booted out of his group home by his cult leader narcissist tier landlord, leaving him without so much as a reliable place to sleep. To make matters worse his videographer Asia is starting to think about reigniting her own music career with the help of the cousin she claims to have gotten her start with in the industry years before. This woman, Lil Rude Puss, enjoys success in her career, or at least is idolized by the others in Fantasy A’s circle. The movie jumps between the antics and fortunes of several of these crews, interweaving Fantasy A’s quest for a mattress with Ramon’s endless exploitative hustles and Asia’s aspirations. This is a Seattle gone mad, where basketballs can reverse out of the hoop during Ramon’s game of HORSE with his long-term rival and everyone’s conception of branding is simply sticking images of their face everywhere, be it in a group home or alcohol education course. Convincing someone to follow along in a batshit scheme is as simple as just telling them to do it. Does Fantasy A attain the fame that he wants? Well, it’ll be a long hustle yet to earn that recognition. But everyone in Seattle knows his face, and he does get his mattress. Hell, someone even helps him get it up Capitol Hill over the Lakeview Blvd flyover. Once they finish making a U-turn, at least.

In recent years, Seattle is much changed, from waterfront-altering projects like the demolition of the Alaskan Way Viaduct to smaller, more personal losses of old haunts and shops dotted around a town being torn down for new projects. The city is gentrifying in many parts, whether the people living in these neighborhoods like it or not. In a sense, this is a time capsule of the late 2010s into the early pandemic years. But there’s something about its microbudget DIY ethos that pushes it even farther back into the energy of a Seattle of the 90s or 80s underground heyday. One need simply spray paint a name on the wall in order to make it a place of business, be it a nightclub or a dojo (sorry, Ramojo), and there’s none of the bland gloss that is creeping in throughout town. It’s also a fantasy Seattle created from a patchwork of locations that make the city feel unique. Sometimes you can trace the route of Fantasy A’s journeys even without the trail of sweat he’s told to follow at one point. But other times it jumps about, more seeking visual similarity than trueness to location: our hero teleports from the concrete posts painted with koi in the C-ID to the freeway underpass near Green Lake (not pictured: the drivers whipping off I-5 seemingly intent on murdering any pedestrian on that stretch of Ravenna Blvd). Between this film and Paper Tigers, Smith Tower rises as the symbol of Seattle rather than the typical icon of the Space Needle, shifting the focus south into overlooked and underserved communities.

Overall, this is absurdist comedy, something in the company of a John Waters camp piece or Lonely Island joint with a dash of Gregg Araki and perhaps a smidge of that David Lynch zest. Filth is everywhere, the camera lingering on sweat, blood, or meatball sub goo. It’s chaotic and constantly moving forward. But sometimes proceedings transition into light surrealism in the edit or aesthetic, the camera pushing in on the mouth of Ramon’s adversary like it’s Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, or Scabby’s microphone bathed in a greenish hue of fantastical possibility. Perhaps there’s a bit of Neil Breen in there too. Fantasy A does astrally project at one point, after all. The movie is patently bonkers with characters uttering non sequiturs at every turn, and figures enter and disappear without rhyme or reason. Entire plot lines are dropped without warning. Almost the entire film was dubbed over in ADR—hell, it worked for the Italian studio system for decades—with some hilariously overcranked performances: several characters sound ripped from either the English dub of an anime or some sort of computer program. But as is the case with subversive, counterculture comedy, there is an edge. It’s important to note that the film is never overtly angry or sad, at least not in a straight-faced way; what’s more important is the implication. Landlords or property managers are sinister figures, egotistical and capricious. On paper they’re goofy and impotent, their eviction notices ridiculous on every level, but they still hold that power over our protagonists without recourse. Facing homelessness, Fantasy A gets a glimpse of the crisis gripping many in the city as accounted by a woman who speaks of streets drinking the blood of those who die needlessly. It’s hilariously off-the-wall and comes out of nowhere, but does acknowledge a crisis much of the public and local government are content to sweep under the rug and ignore. And getting ahead on the music scene is pretty much impossible. Fantasy A has to work “for the exposure” for the controlling club owner Scabby, and even Lil Rude Puss’ clout can’t get more than four people to show up for the big fundraiser concert. She has to ask Fantasy A to help her make change for bus fare. It’s frustrated at the hustle, but never mopey. The image of Lil Rude Puss walking across the street to the bus shelter opposite the club is both hilarious and melancholy in a weird way. It’s locked down in a wide shot and goes on for way too long as she walks away and sits down, small in frame. But as she sits there in her almost fluorescent white suit, alone except for a homeless individual sleeping on the other bench, it’s also a little sad in the gulf between the hope and reality. But the dream can stay alive if you just keep hustling. I would take a bullet for Fantasy A.

THE RULES

SIP

Fantasy A is named.

Someone smiles uncomfortably in front of their own image on a poster.

A Lil Rude Puss poster appears somewhere.

Late bus dramaaaaaa

BIG DRINK

Double exposure of any sort.

The Smith Tower appears in any context.

You just have to in order to cope, it's fair. High art is hard to handle head-on.

[guqin-and-flute]

Episode 73: Koala Chlamydia Is A Problem [My Brothers, My Sister and Me Excerpt]

[MBMSAM AU] [First Installment] [Podfics!] [Ao3 Link]

[COVER ART BY THE FANTASTIC LITTLESMARTART]

Jin Zixuan: Do we want another question?

Qin Su: Sure, yeah, got one right here. 'When I was younger, I was really skinny and weak'--hey! Hey, now, negative body talk, much! That's super judgmental of yourself!

Mo Xuanyu: And of us people who are skinny and weak right now! [teasing] Right, Yao-gege?

Meng Yao: [calmly] I'm not affiliated with you.

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [cackles]

Qin Su: 'When I was a kid, I was really skinny and weak, so I made it my mission to get as jacked as possible so people would take me seriously. I put in a lot of hard work, changed my exercise routine and diet and it worked. But now, as an adult I'm a 6 foot 7 dude--'

Jin Zixuan: [incredulous] 6 foot 7 ?

Qin Su: Just a mountain of a man. '--6 foot 7 dude with serious muscle mass--'

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [sotto voce] Good God .

Qin Su: '-- and a pretty intense resting face. I routinely make children cry just by existing and everyone shoots me nervous looks in the grocery store. It gets to me sometimes. I’m not a bad guy! I just look scary. What are some ways that I can make myself less intimidating?’

Mo Xuanyu: Huh.

Qin Su: I mean, let’s see...puppies are unintimidating. Can you devise a system where you carry a few around with you at all times? Maybe in some saddle bags, everywhere you go?

Mo Xuanyu: The movies, the gym, on dates… .

Jin Zixuan: Sure, until they start pissing down your legs. Then you’re not just unintimidating, you’re the guy no one wants to stand next to at the bus stop.

Meng Yao: I mean, it still does the job, doesn’t it?

Mo Xuanyu: You could get a butterfly tattoo, like, directly on your forehead.

Meng Yao: Okay, please explain to me your thought process on how exactly that would make anyone more approachable.

Qin Su: They still want to be able to navigate human society, A-Yu.

Mo Xuanyu: Ew, why? 

Jin Zixuan: Let’s see...what makes someone approachable….Who is the least intimidating of all of us?

Qin Su: [immediately] You.

Meng Yao: [affirming] Mm.

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [incredulous] What?

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: Oh yeah, you’re like...you’re like a poodle. Or a--

Jin Zixuan: [highly offended] Excuse me! I'm the oldest and definitely the tallest one here!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [ill concealed snort]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: [pityingly] Oh, da- ge .

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: Or a golden retriever.

Qin Su: Please don't tell me you think that being tall translates into you actually being scary. You’re tallest by, like, 3 inches. At most, that’s just part of the equation of being scary.

Meng Yao: And the rest of Zixuan’s equation is just filled with collared polo shirts. Which absolutely tanks the intimidation ratio.

Mo Xuanyu: That doesn't tank yours, though.

Meng Yao: I wear button downs. It’s not the same. [Vaguely disgusted undertone] Collared polos.

Jin Zixuan: Excuse you, polos are weekend wear and there is nothing wrong-- I can be intimidating!

Qin Su: [doubtfully] Ehhhhh…

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [badly stifled snickers]

[crosstalk]Jin Zixuan: I can! Just because I’ve never had to intimidate you --

Qin Su: Let's just say; citation needed

Mo Xuanyu: Please, jiejie has you beat.

Jin Zixuan: [indignant] Wha--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: He's right, gege; an unopened jar of mayonnaise has you beat. And I'm no unopened jar of mayonnaise. 

Mo Xuanyu: That shit is opened .

Meng Yao: That’s a Tinder profile quote.

Qin Su: What? 'Spicier than mayo?'

Mo Xuanyu: [half singing, half chanting] ‘My mayo brings all the boys to the yard, and they’re like-- [normal voice] this is really underwhelming.’

Meng Yao: [musing] ‘Saltier than soy sauce, spicier than mayo….’

Qin Su: Why do we always come back to food? Are our Skype calls haunted by starving Victorian ghost children? Are we possessed?

Mo Xuanyu: [mournful, high pitched, bad British accent] ‘My name is Bartholemew and I’m starving. Please, spare some mayo.’

Meng Yao: It’s your own fault if none of you bother to eat before we record. You all had the schedule.

Mo Xuanyu: [crunches loudly near mic]

Meng Yao: [falsely happy] Hey, thanks! Thank you so much, A-Yu, love the level spike on that one. Editing mouth noises out of our podcast makes my day brighter.

Jin Zixuan: [under his breath] Just...unbelievable….You all….

Qin Su: [smiling] I think we broke him.

Meng Yao: [laughing] Zixuan is limping behind the conversation indignantly, brandishing his cane….

Mo Xuanyu: [sympathetically] Awww.

Jin Zixuan: I--! I am a high powered businessman! I am trained in martial arts and archery and swordsmanship --

Mo Xuanyu: [mouth full] Oh please, gege, you’re a pod caster.

Jin Zixuan: [forcefully] I am a CEO--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: [ignoring him] I think Yao-gege is somehow the most and least intimidating out of all of us at the same time, if we're all being completely honest with ourselves and our place in the world.

Mo Xuanyu: Aww, I thought I was at least a contender!

Qin Su: Honey, you're feral. There's a difference.

Mo Xuanyu: What does a kid have to do around here to be intimidating?

Meng Yao: Learn how to chew with your mouth closed, for one.

Jin Zixuan: [indignantly] A-Yao? Are you not going to deny this?

[Brief silence]

Meng Yao: [calmly] I don't think I'm scary.

Qin Su & Mo Xuanyu: [instant uproarious laughter]

Jin Zixuan: Oh, come on! He's like...a little koala bear or something! How is that scary!

Meng Yao: [offended] Excuse me--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [still laughing] I’m gonna pee --

Meng Yao: -- koalas have smooth brains and eat poisonous leaves all day. Are you calling me a poisonous idiot bear?

Qin Su: [wheezes] Only in private.

Mo Xuanyu: [laughter trailing off] Wait, wait, hold on. Don’t all koalas have chlamydia or something?

Qin Su: [renewed laughter]

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [startled laugh] What?

Mo Xuanyu: Chlamydia! I think that I read--!

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Oh my god, I think I’ve actually heard that. The plague, the bubonic plague, isn’t it? Or that--Some sort of--that disease people used to get where bits of you fall off?

Qin Su: Beheadings?

Meng Yao: [voice strangled from laughter] Yes, A-Su, that ancient disease the French Revolution that all koalas have--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [snickering]

Mo Xuanyu: [loud and close to mic] LEPROSY .

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Ow--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Holy shit--

Mo Xuanyu: It’s leprosy and you’re thinking of armadillos, da-ge. 

Jin Zixuan: [muttering] Aren’t we all….

Qin Su: [solemnly]  Armadillos and guillotines. Every damn minute of every damn day.

Mo Xuanyu: And I googled it, I’m right; koala chlamydia is a problem.

Meng Yao: And we’ve just found the title of this episode.

Qin Su: If most koalas have chlamydia, I feel like they have other problems they have to deal with.

Mo Xuanyu: Those pesky, promiscuous koalas!

Qin Su: Get them some damn sex ed! Use those eucalyptus leaves for protection!

Meng Yao: [pleasantly] That’s just about the worst thing I’ve heard all day.

Mo Xuanyu: Eugh, that menthol, though. Like Vicks for your dicks!

Meng Yao: I hate it.

[crosstalk]Jin Zixuan: [pained] PSA: don’t do that. Ever.

Qin Su: The voice of experience?

Jin Zixuan: I don’t think you actually want an answer to that, meimei.

Meng Yao: You people make me hate learning and also knowing things.

Mo Xuanyu: Also I've been looking it up and mountain lions are the ones that can have the bubonic plague.

Meng Yao: Choose your fighter; chlamydia ridden koala, leprosy ridden armadillo, or mountain lion with the Black Death.

Qin Su: Well, at least the mountain lion could inflict some damage. Use it like a poison delivery system, like an anthrax letter to secretly infect people.

Meng Yao: [patient teacher tone] ‘A mountain lion is to an anthrax letter, like a koala is to a…?’

Qin Su: [mock frustration] Oh, man, I know this one….

Mo Xuanyu: 'I can't come into school today, I got attacked by a mountain lion.'

Qin Su: [acting concerned] 'Oh my God, are you okay? Are you gonna have scars?'

Mo Xuanyu: 'Worse. The Plague .'

Jin Zixuan:  Okay, glad we got our animal infections all sorted out--back to what we were talking about. So, riddle me this--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [delighted, Riddlemancer voice] Rrrriddle Me Piss, kids--!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao & Qin Su: NO!

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Oh my god --

Mo Xuanyu: [laughing] I don't actually have anything today--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: A blessing .

Mo Xuanyu: --but I'll get you next time.

Jin Zixuan: No, I need to know, genuinely, this is not a bit-- why do you think A-Yao scarier than me?

Qin Su: I mean, what's not scary about a smooth brained bear full of toxins and chlamydia?

Meng Yao: [disgruntled] Uh huh.

Mo Xuanyu: Technically, they’re not bears, they're marsupials! And I think Yao-gege is more of an armadillo--hard on the outside--

[slight crosstalk] Qin Su: --And full of leprosy on the inside. 

Meng Yao: [further from mic, keyboard tapping] 'And to Mo Xuanyu...and Qin Su...I leave... absolutely nothing, except...this bag of dog shit and...spiders…..'

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [laughing]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Awww, A-Yu, we're being written out of his will again!

Jin Zixuan: Listeners, am I wrong? Am I crazy? He’s the size of a toddler--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: [still away from mic, keyboard tapping] ‘And to Jin Zixuan...I leave--’

Jin Zixuan: He looks like a sugar glider baby that got turned into a human man--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: ‘This box...of useless...tetanus filled screws….’

Qin Su: Da-ge--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: ‘--that i...encourage him to use…--’

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [snickering]

Meng Yao: ‘As acupuncture needles.’ There. Sent to the notary. Now, what were we talking about, again?

Qin Su: Da-ge, all those things might be true--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [flatly] Wow.

Qin Su: But here’s a test. What would you do to someone picking on A-Yu in school?

Jin Zixuan: [immediate, sounding businesslike and slightly aggressive] I would contact their parents and set up a meeting with the school officials and make it very clear that they are never to do that again.

Qin Su: [grinning] Okay. Yao-gege, what would you do to someone picking on A-Yu in school?

Meng Yao: [calmly] Absolutely nothing you could prove in a court of law.

Mo Xuanyu: [bursts out laughing]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: I mean--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Uhhhh--

Qin Su: You see? Also-- [quick sing-song voice] 🎵 This is a joke, for legal reasons, this is a joke 🎵 [normal voice] He’s got that--that--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [lingering laughter] Yeah, it's that menace. Da-ge, you’re like--you’re like if a duckling--okay, you remember when I brought you to Hot Topic? You were like a duckling at a Death Metal concert.

Jin Zixuan: [defensively] The music was so loud--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [pityingly] Oh, Zixuan.

Qin Su: You're like if a golf course got turned into a human. 

Meng Yao You're what would happen if you gave mac and cheese a social security card and keys to a lamborghini.

Jin Zixuan: [unamused] Okay.

Mo Xuanyu: [laughing] You're the lightly salted almonds of people. 

Qin Su: You're like a wholesome Hallmark movie fucked the concept of the suburbs.

Jin Zixuan: [unamused] Sure. Sure.

Meng Yao: You emanate the peril of a box of lethargic kittens.

Jin Zixuan: Wow. My own family. This is coming from the physical manifestation of a My Chemical Romance song--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [smug] You say that like it’s a bad thing.

Jin Zixuan: -- and the woman who cries at the Land Before Time every time she watches it. I think this is a case of glass houses, here. Let ye who are intimidating... 

Qin Su: Oh, so we’re not roasting Yao-gege back?

Meng Yao: Not sure how me being compared to a STD riddled marsupial for about 5 minutes straight escaped your notice, A-Su, but alright. 

Jin Zixuan: I feel that you are all being...heinously short sighted, here. Are you seriously trying to tell me that A-Yu is scarier than me, a full grown man?

Meng Yao: I would certainly be more warranted in my concern about him stabbing me than I would about you.

Mo Xuanyu: Oh my God, gege, that was like 5 years ago and I already said I was sorry--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [loudly] What--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Did we actually help this person? I mean--

Mo Xuanyu: We always help, jiejie.

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Hold on--

Qin Su: We learned a lot about exactly how disturbing the animal kingdom is, but….

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: No, go back--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: Dress like a middle aged accountant, share minion memes on Facebook, and buy your son a puppy so you have an excuse to talk to the dog and not people. There you go. Done.

Jin Zixuan: No, rewind--Xuanyu, you stabbed our brother? 

[brief silence]

Qin Su: [brightly] Well, that's going to do it for us today, folks--!

Jin Zixuan: A-Yu!

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: It was only a little!

Jin Zixuan: How can you stab someone a little ?! 

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Thank you so much for listening in this week--

Jin Zixuan: With what ? Why?!

Mo Xuanyu: It honestly wasn’t that bad, he made it sound like--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: That's not an answer --

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [begins laughing]

Jin Zixuan: A-Yao--!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [still laughing]

Qin Su: [brightly]  We hope you enjoyed our enlightening romp, here! We want to thank Sister Sledge for the use of the song We Are Family. A-Yu, how about that last Yahoo?

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [farther from mic, clearly grinning] Ohhh, boy. 

Mo Xuanyu: Okay, okay--anonymous Yahoo Answers user asks….[exaggerated, desperate voice] ‘I can’t afford a freezer. Where do I put my deer meat?’

[Outro music begins quietly]

Qin Su: [laughs] I’m Qin Su.

Jin Zixuan: [sighs, disgruntled] I’m Jin Zixuan.

Meng Yao: [grinning] I’m Meng Yao.

Mo Xuanyu: [sheepish] I’m Mo Xuanyu.

Qin Su: And this has been My Brothers, My Sister, And Me! Thank you to everyone, see you next week and remember; send your trash dad straight to jail!

[blindbeta]

Blind / Low Vision Person’s Review of “Blind” by Rachel DeWoskin and Why Writers Should Not Underestimate the Benefits of a Sensitivity Reader

[Content warnings: spoilers for the book. Ableism. Brief mention of an accident involving eye trauma. Mentions of suicide. Stereotypes about blind people. Also this review, because I focused on the portrayal of blindness, comes across negatively. Please know that I have no hate for the author and might even read another book she wrote. However, I did not like the way this book portrayed blindness and, as difficult as it is, I wanted to be honest in my review.]

I struggled with the title, and I’m not even sure benefits is the appropriate word. What I want to convey here is not Brought to You By Big Sensitivity Reader Company vibes, but more This Book Was Not Good and It Needed a Sensitivity Reader Very Badly vibes.

Blind is about Emma Silver, a high school student who goes blind in a traumatic accident. Here is a good summary and review by a blind person. I listened to the audiobook, which was narrated well. I’ll start by saying this will only be a review of the portrayal of blindness — I’ll try to leave my other opinions out just to keep things focused.

Unfortunately, focusing on just blindness means that it will not make this review more positive, because this book is about a blind girl recovering from going blind. In a way that is both inauthentic and swerves well out of the author’s lane. I say that because, as I hope will become apparent, this book consists of main character Emma being sad about being blind for the majority of the book. The book doesn’t simply have a character who goes blind. That is the main character’s entire arc.

This is a long review. However, I believe it will be invaluable for my readers and anyone who is interested in writing a blind character. Because this book passes most of my minimum standards for writing blind characters and was still lacking due to many factors, including stereotypes. I included many sub-headings so you can find specific topics easily.

Helpful Links

I include these links in the review. I’ll list them here for easy finding.

Here are two reviews of the book by blind readers: one and two.

Here is a video of the author talking about some of research she did for the book.

Here is my post Things I Want to See More Of / Less Of.

Here is my post about writing a blind character adjusting to being blind and being all sad about it when you aren’t blind yourself.

And finally, here is the post I shared that lists misconceptions about blind people.

The Author

The author, Rachel Dewoskin, is not blind. I did as much research as I could, but even if I hadn’t done so before reading the book, it was obvious she wasn’t blind herself. There are too many inaccuracies and offensive moments. This becomes a problem not because her MC was blind, but because she told a blind person’s story and used tropes in ways I think would be better off written by a blind person. If I’m going to read a story like this, I don’t want to read it from the perspective of a person who isn’t blind. When I get into the details of what went wrong, I hope you’ll see why.

Did the author do her research? Yes. The author met with blind people, clearly researched assistive technology and cane skills, and even taught herself contracted Braille. She talks a little about it in this video.

In fact, I wanted to say I am so impressed and grateful this author immersed herself in things like Braille and cane skills. None of my followers have shared that they went to a Lighthouse For the Blind or taught themselves to read Braille or spoken so passionately about why they loved it.

But sometimes research falls short. Or it is simply not enough.

That’s why I’m writing this review. For you writers writing blind characters when you aren’t blind. Because while the author clearly had good intentions, while the author clearly did her research and put in the time to learn and listen in ways I don’t think many of my followers have yet — the book was not authentic enough for me.

This book needed several sensitivity readers. If it had any, I would be surprised.

The Cover

The audiobook seems to have Braille on the cover, but I can’t tell if it is accessible or simply a picture of Braille. The cover features the word Blind in white print on a black background, with what seems to be Braille in rainbow colors that also spell out the title. I’ll reserve judgment here, since I don’t know the answer. If the Braille is tactile, then the cover is fantastic.

In the video I linked, the author seems to be holding the hardcover edition of the book with Braille on the cover. I can’t tell if the Braille is actually tactile or not.

What I Liked About the Book

I wanted to list a few things I liked about the book.

1. The main character is Jewish.

2. Emma has a large family full of well-developed characters and realistic portrayals of various ages. Everyone reacts uniquely to her blindness and I thought these characters were all used well. The scenes with Emma and her older sisters as well as the scenes with her mom were really great.

3. Emma gets therapy for her trauma. She also gets training to use a cane. These are annoyingly rare in stories.

4. As I said, the author clearly did her research. This is obvious when reading the book and In everything I found when researching the author after I finished it. I want to give the author praise here. I thought her explanations of technology Emma uses were the most accurate I have seen so far, both in books and when doing sensitivity reads.

What I Didn’t Like

I will start with this: Emma, after a year of learning to use her cane, is still using a cane inside her own house. After a year. This is not realistic, nor does it seem comfortable at all to use a cane in one’s own home. I don’t know anyone who does this and according to the other reviews, I am not the only one who was surprised by this.

Basically, this story would be okay with some inaccuracies. That’s to be expected. The real issue I had with this book was that it uses tropes the blind community generally hates and that the book is literally about !!! a character going blind and adapting. That’s the story. If you remove the blindness and the trauma, the story falls apart.

The author told a story that was not hers to tell and she did so badly.

If you are confused about why I dislike this, please read this post called Writing Blind Characters Accepting Being Blind When You Aren’t Blind Yourself.

What Did The Author Do Badly?

Trauma and Blindness

The story starts when main character, Emma, goes blind after a fireworks accident. Not only is this cliché, but it also tics one of my boxes in my Things I Want To See Less of post. This author wrote about a character going blind due to a traumatic accident. Link to the post.

In telling a story that was not hers to tell, here are some harmful things in the book:

The author does not do a good job of separating Emma’s trauma from her blindness. To be fair, this is difficult and most people don’t know to go about doing so with purpose. There are a lot of times in the book where the fact that Emma is traumatized leads to her saying a lot of terrible things about blindness and blind people that are never corrected or contradicted in the story. Again, if you are not sure why this is a problem, read the link I shared to my post.

Here are a few times this issue came up:

-Emma develops a habit of rocking, which myself and many reviewers know to attribute to trauma, but it isn’t clear if the author thinks blind people rock, as the stereotype indicates. Is Emma rocking as a trauma response or because she is blind? The book doesn’t make it clear. This is a time where authors need to be clear.

-Emma assumed she will never get a job, be kissed, get married, etc, after going blind.

-Emma yells about being ruined due to her blindness. The first two hours of the audiobook consist of Emma complaining about being blind. She mentions never being able to get a job a few times, assuming she won’t be able to work. While blind people do struggle with employment, this is due to discrimination, lack of transportation, lack of accommodations, lack of community support, and other systemic issues.

-Emma calls herself disfigured.

-Emma states she wanted to die. In another part of the book, when a background character we never met, Claire, completed suicide, Emma wonders if she was so focused on Claire because she wondered if she wanted to kill herself too.

-On the subject of the character, Claire, Emma states: “How easy would being gay be compared to being blind?”

This is especially damaging because some people are blind and gay. It also isn’t fair for Emma to compare them and the systemic issues that are faced by blind people and gay people. Emma not only trivializes homophobia, but also decides being blind is worse. For Emma, being blind is the worst thing ever, which is very isolating to read.

There are times where the fact that Emma is traumatized was not only grouped in with her blindness, but where the author used trauma to write ideas about blindness that are ultimately harmful.

This book, if readers of the blog want to read it, should be a lesson on why separating trauma from blindness is important. Whether that means making clear distinctions in the narrative itself or just not writing about a character going blind after a traumatic accident.

Let’s continue the overall things done badly.

Stereotypes and Tropes About Blind People

1. Rocking —

I have already mentioned the rocking thing above, but to reiterate here, not all blind people rock to orient themselves.

2. Touching Faces —

Emma and another blind character literally feel each other’s faces, one of the most hated tropes for blind people. In another scene, Emma feels another character’s face without asking.

3. Where Are the Audio Descriptions? —

Emma compares her life to a horror movie she couldn’t watch. This is a subtle reinforcement of the idea that blind people don’t watch films or television. The book makes no mention of audio descriptions. I suppose Emma and all the other blind characters simply don’t watch films or shows anymore.

4. Supposedly Fake Service Dogs —

Emma gets a dog that is specifically said to not be a guide dog. Emma brings this dog to restaurants and to school. Emma explains that she can get away with bringing her dog because no one wants to tell the blind kid no. This was, as you may be able to imagine, frustrating to read. Plenty of blind people have been denied access to transportation and buildings with a guide dog that is supposed to be able to travel freely. Emma’s blindness would absolutely not be a big help to her in bringing her dog places where it is not allowed. In showing Emma getting away with bringing her dog into restaurants when he is explicitly not a service dog, the author is contributing to a huge myth that prevents actual service dogs from traveling freely. Yes, this is only a book and it probably isn’t falling into the hands of someone powerful — however, it has probably been picked up by a business owner, a driver for public transport, a teacher, etc.

5. Avoiding words like see and look —

Emma avoids words like see and look. She also gets angry at her friends for using such words. At one point, Emma’s friend says something and Emma snaps, “I can’t see”. This prompts her friend to, according to Emma, never make that mistake again. Toward the end of the book, Emma is still avoiding such words.

Here is a list of misconceptions about blind people. Look at #6.

Here is another review of this book that also touches on this issue. The reviewer states: “The strange thing is that I’ve never known any blind person avoiding the use of words like “see” or “look.” Again, I’d hate for sighted people to read this book and think that blind folk all avoid words with visual associations; in fact, the only blind friends I talk to moan about sighted people avoiding the use of such visual words because they think we’ll be offended!”

6. All Blind People Are Apparently Totally Blind —

At one point in the story, Emma attends a school for the blind. Another character, who I think was Emma’s mother, says that the campus is beautiful. Emma makes this remark: “Why bother making a school for the blind beautiful? It’s lost on everyone anyway.”

Wow, Emma, that was rude. This is another example of where Emma’s pain and anger cause issues for readers. If they take this at face value, they may think that blind people don’t notice or appreciate beauty. More importantly, they might also assume, like Emma, that all blind people can’t see. As I have stated many times on this blog, most blind people have residual vision. Not everyone is totally blind. This is why, like beautiful grounds, schools for the blind also have things like stairs with high contrast.

7. Subtle Use of the Idea That People With Low Vision Should Rather Strain Themselves Than Be Blind —

This one was less obvious for me. However, once I thought about it again, I understood what I was reading in this character. There’s a rather outgoing character named Seb whose personality is very refreshing in this story. Seb attends the school for the blind with Emma. Seb has low vision.

So Seb wants to get a job. Remember how Emma was afraid she wouldn’t be able to get a job now that she is blind?

Instead of showing Seb getting a job to prove that idea wrong, he knows he has to conveniently not mention being blind when he applies, showing up in sunglasses and without a cane. The book states he worries he wouldn’t be able to fill out the application.

Here is what the book states:

[Quote] “He got hired without telling any of the guys who ran the place that he wasn’t sighted; I know because he had confided in me and Dee the week before that he wanted the job—if friend worked there and said they had an opening—but Seb was worried he wouldn’t be able to fill out the application. So he showed up one night before closing time, wearing sunglasses and not carrying a cane, and asked all casually if he could grab and application and bring it back the next day.

And he spent all night filling it and brought it back the next day. He didn’t mention that he was blind or that the application had taken six hours to finish with the help of his sighted brother.” [End quote]

Seb has no obligation to reveal any personal information to them. If he wants to fill out the application on his own time, in a way in which he feels comfortable, that is fine. However, the book implies he thought he would not be hired if they knew he was blind. Rather than talk about the employment discrimination that is such a huge problem for blind people, the book decides to skip over this. And rather than address Emma’s fear-based expectation that she will never get a job, presumably because she doesn’t think blind people can do anything, the book ignores it.

Seb getting a job, especially in this way, does absolutely nothing to assuage Emma’s fears. Or challenge any possible low expectations the readers may have.

Seb fills out the application by himself and it takes six hours. Six. Hours. His brother also helps him eventually and it still takes that long. No one I know, even with intense internalized ableism, would sit there for six hours doing something like that.

Seb should be using a magnifying device or a scanner app. There is tons of technology out there for people with low vision and the author chose to include absolutely none of it in the book. Instead, she chose to show a character struggling for six hours without exploring his reasons for doing so. Does he do this because of internalized ableism? If yes, how can the same character tell Emma the school will get rid of her “Poor Blind Kid bullshit”?

Now, in some families and some cultures, it would be more appropriate for a family member to help. However, the author tells us nothing more about Seb’s culture, his family life, or his motivations. I assume he did not ask for his brother’s help until later, because I can’t fathom why having a family member help from the start would take six hours.

Why is a character doing this in a story that is supposed to be about adjusting to blindness? Clinging to his remaining vision instead of using a few adaptive tools to make things easier on his eyes hardly makes him a good role model for Emma. Why is a character modeling independence in this specific way? In a way that tells Emma that it is better to struggle with a little vision than to be totally blind?

This is reinforced when Emma says some kids, including Seb, pass well. This is something that cannot be given nuance unless it is written by someone who experienced it. Otherwise, the story shows Emma over and over again that being blind is bad. Undesirable. Which is ableist.

Do people struggle with this? Absolutely. Did the author write it well? No.

And Here Are a Few Things That Could Have Been Done Better

In this section, I wanted to go over things I thought could have been done better. They aren’t necessarily harmful, but I wanted to mention them.

Sunglasses

The main character wears sunglasses when she goes out. This is likely because she has a scar she feels self-conscious about, but this is still a big stereotype that the author could have taken more care with.

O&M Issues

So Emma has someone come around to teach her orientation and mobility, which was nice. The author put in her research here as well. However, the instructor leaves after a time, which seems odd. Rather than work with her around her schools or other locations, he decides she has learned all the basics. I received O&M training until university.

Now Let’s Examine The Blind Characters vs Tropes

In this section, I want to go over the biggest tropes in the stories structure, the number of blind characters, and what I normally advise to get around these issues. We’ll see how this advice compares to how the book turned out.

So, the things to look out for are:

-tokenism

-blind characters going blind through trauma

-blind characters being sad about being blind

Examining Tokenism

Emma is not the only blind character. The blind characters include: Emma, Sebastian, Dee, and Annabelle. I normally say to have one other blind character at minimum. The book meets that requirement.

Examining Blind Characters Going Blind Through Trauma

I also normally suggest avoiding characters going blind through trauma, especially main characters. If the writer would like to go ahead with this, I normally suggest 2 or 3 other blind characters who didn’t go blind through trauma. With 2 as the minimum. I admit, I prefer the main character not to be the one going blind through trauma, simply because the main character has so much power in the perception of the reader.

Let us examine each character.

Emma - went blind through a traumatic fireworks accident

Sebastian- unknown

Dee - unknown

Annabelle- went blind through Retinitis Pigmentosa

On the topic of Dee and Seb, Emma does mention they may have better hearing, which she claims you only have if you lose your sight before the age of ten. We can guess that Dee and Seb both went blind in early childhood or were born blind, but we aren’t sure. What I want here is explicit confirmation that other characters didn’t go blind through accidents. We only get that with Annabelle and her RP.

Not only that, but the other blind characters are not in the novel as much. Annabelle only shows up at the end, seemingly as a way for Emma to help another recently blind person to show how she has developed. Seb and Dee are only in a few chapters, mostly as flashbacks. They don’t get much backstory or development either.

However, it fills my minimum requirements, so I’ll let it pass.

Examining Blind Characters Being Sad About Being Blind

This is literally Emma throughout the entire book. Until the last few chapters.

Annabelle has a similar, shorter arc, although she is only 9 at the time. Annabelle comes in near the end of the book.

It is normal for people to need an adjustment period, particularly if they are young. However, to have the entire book consist of Emma being sad and having trauma focused mostly on her blindness is not something I’m okay with. Especially because, as I wrote in this post, it can leave non-blind readers with a very negative impression of blindness. Again, why would I want to read about this arc from an author who isn’t blind? Why make the entire book about adjusting to blindness?

Anyway, then we have Seb and Dee.

There characters were refreshing in this story, which is mostly Emma being sad and angry.

Dee doesn’t seem to be sad, but we don’t know much about her. She does seem well adjusted and laidback. She and Seb go skiing, so that’s something.

Sebastian gets a little more attention in the story. He does tell Emma the school for the blind will knock the “BPK bullshit” or “Poor Blind Kid bullshit” right out of her. I thought it was funny. Sebastian also has a big personality and interests outside of moping about being blind. He enjoys skiing and, according to Emma, he would have no problem with presenting on the Lighthouse For the Blind in front of people who aren’t blind, unlike Emma, who struggles with calling attention to her blindness. Which I can understand, what with the awkward questions her sighted classmates give her.

However, Seb also has an issue with hiding or fighting against his low vision in some parts of the story. If Sebastian were the main character, I could understand some of the things he does. However, this does not go well at all with Emma’s arc.

Anyway, Seb and Dee don’t get nearly enough time in the book for me to feel 100% comfortable using them as exceptions.

How Would a Sensitivity Reader Help?

If I were doing a sensitivity read for this book, I would suggest including more about Seb and Dee and the school for the blind. I would have explained that the way the story sidelines them shows Emma is not okay associating with her blind friends. I would have asked for more backstory, more contrast between them and the main character, and possibly a few more blind characters Emma met at the school for the blind.

If the writer was insistent on having Emma go blind in an accident, I would have suggested reducing the time she spent depressed and shifting the focus from her blindness to her traumatic accident. I would have had the author work harder to separate the two, even if it took Emma a while to do so. I would have also suggested reducing Emma’s remarks or have them called out. For example, her comments about not being able to get a job or beautiful schools being lost on blind people. Sebastian would have been excellent in this role.

I would have worked with her to either get rid of or subvert the list of stereotypes. Most of them are easy fixes.

I would have told her blind people don’t use canes in their houses. I would have given suggestions for assistive technology for Seb to use. I would have helped her with the section on trauma and blindness, reducing or erasing a lot of the issues I included there. I would have suggested giving Emma an arc that isn’t entirely about adjusting to blindness, even if her story starts with going blind.

I probably would have seemed nicer about my feedback because the author still had opportunity to make changes.

The author could have done more research on stereotypes and cane usage, but I think there is an important lesson here about the benefits of sensitivity readers.

In the end, a sensitivity reader would have fixed most of the problems in this story, despite the amount of research the author did. Research cannot always teach you everything and that is where a sensually or authenticity reader comes in. Moreover, there is a certain respect in involving communities you are representing. In paying them in money or exposure. In listening to their voices and respecting what they say. If the author was willing to learn Braille and sit with blind people to learn about canes and technology, why did she stop at getting sensitivity readers? Why does it feel like she didn’t want to include the blind community in any meaningful way?

I hope this helps someone.

-BlindBeta

[theminecraftbee]

My bestie watches the dream smp but doesn’t know where to start for hermitcraft. I don’t know much about the dsmp but I can tell you her favorite bits. Her favorite character is tubbo. She loves the friendship between tubbo and tommy. The whole ghostbur thing made her cry. She loves the dramatic sad lore. Any recommendations? You don’t have to answer this if it’s too much, I won’t be upset

okay so actually. favorite character is tubbo. i have two somewhat different suggestions here. my first thing, however, is a caveat and warning—sad dramatic lore isn’t really a hermitcraft thing! for dramatic lore, a few hermits tend to do more storyline stuff (like ren and doc) but big moon at the end of season 8 is an outlier. yeah joe and cleo’s goodbye made me cry, but that’s not a thing they normally get up to, y’know? although, who knows. the paradigm has shifted now. we may no longer be safe.

however. okay. hermitcraft ccs I think a tubbo main would like, the actual two suggestions:

my first is impulse! impulse has similar vibes to tubbo to me, in that he often comes across as the calm or reasonable friend, but do not be fooled, he is Batshit Insane. he likes to do large, relatively geometric builds, in my experience, and a lot of sensible redstone farms that REALLY should give him a worse reputation for server lag than he has. if they still don’t let mumbo live it down… like tubbo, he’s cheerful and down to help his friends, and often hangs out with tango! but, also, his best friend skizzleman isn’t a hermit, but if your friend likes tubbo and tommy’s friendship, I’m tempted to direct her to naked and scared as well. good friendship content!

my other suggestion is someone tubbo mains may know already: iskall85, tubbo’s vault hunters dad. iskall has just the MOST fantastic vibes. he’s silly, has fun editing, and interacts with tubbo well in the vault hunters twitch series, a thing that I think will translate to your friend vibing with iskall’s solo content! he like… I’m not sure how to describe iskall content, it’s just so very ISKALL. and personally, I think that’s beautiful.

so yeah, my suggestions here are impulsesv or iskall85!

[cotton-tails]

So I saw this last night, and the little angsty plot bunny in my head woke up and I just had to write something. Fully intended to be a drabble of sorts, but of course it turned into a four page tear-fest, so grab the tissues and strap in.

Oh, and I haven't edited this, it's just 3am word-vomit, so enjoy the mess!

-

“So, this hasn’t exactly gone to plan.”

Della snorts cheerlessly at Donald’s deadpan comment, struggling into a sitting position and wincing at a twinge in her elbow. The chains dig into her arms with every movement, a very clear upgrade from the ropes they’d all been able to break out of within several minutes not too long ago. These idiots don’t know who they’re messing with.

Or they do; probably a little too well, hence the plan that fell apart very quickly. And the chains. And the scary looking red lightning below them.

“Shut up!” Heron snaps behind them, cuffing Donald a little too roughly around the head.

He doesn’t react more than a sharp hiss and a dark glare behind him, and Della can’t help the sharp pang of guilt under the surge of anger. She bites back a comment, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground until the villain is out of earshot.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, keeping her voice low.

“What? Why?” Donald sounds confused but she can’t bring herself to look at him.

“You should be with Daisy right now,” she says, “I’m the one who guilted you into staying, into coming on this stupid trip. And now we’re facing the very real possibility of dying.”

Donald is quiet.

Forcing herself to look up, she frowns at the look on his face. He still doesn’t say anything, but the expression says it all; ‘Della-you-absolute-idiot-what-are-you-blathering-on-about?’

“I came on this stupid trip cause our kids were in trouble,” he hisses eventually, “my family were in trouble! You think I wouldn’t ditch my vacation in a heartbeat for any of you?”

“I-” Della starts, but her voice catches, rendering her utterly speechless. He’s not lying, she knows exactly what he would do for the family, for her. Yet, somehow that knowledge isn’t exactly helping.

She misses her chance to reply, all conversation cut off with the explosive arrival of Scrooge and Bradford through the roof.

Della clenches her fist and almost bites through the inside of her cheek as he slams to the ground. She manages to chime out a ‘Hey Uncle Scrooge,’ with Donald when his pained gaze finds them. Beakley mutters a sarcastic ‘Fantastic,’ from her other side. She can only watch as a now armoured Bradford, armed with the sword, picks him up by the back of his coat and drags him up the stairs. He’s blathering on about something, but she’s stopped listening; too busy focusing on her battered and beaten uncle and how this could have gone so completely and utterly wrong.

It’s the usual spiel anyway, threats to destroy his family, his adventures, everything he had worked for, blah blah blah.

Then the contract is revealed, and her stomach drops to somewhere around her knees. If they don’t find a way out soon, Scrooge will have to either sign his life away or they all die, and frankly, neither option sound particularly appealing.

It’s only when Bradford sacrifices his own agents that the desperateness of the situation really sinks in. It’s one thing to talk about murder, it’s entirely another to actually do it. And if Bradford is willing to throw away his own agents, Della can’t imagine what he would be willing to do to her family if Scrooge doesn’t sign.

He tries to buy some time. Della can almost hear the cogs turning in his head as he tries to figure out how to get out of this one. She huffs out a half-hearted laugh at the sharp quip about the fine-print. He’d figure something out, he always does. Not to mention the kids are bound to have found a way out by now, they’d pick up the rest of their allies and be on their way to disrupt the whole evil plan.

It’s just a matter of-

“Ugh! Enough stalling!”

Never mind.

“You need some incentive.”

Della does not like where this is going.

“Perhaps the life of your most trusted ally?”

The three of them snap their heads forward as Bradford stalks towards them, sword dragging on the concrete threateningly. As the screeching rings in Della’s ears, the only thought racing through her mind is ‘not Donnie, not Donnie, please, don’t take my brother.’

Her heart almost stops when he scoops Donald up by his collar, his cry echoing in her ears.

“Donald!” Three voices scream.

She can barely breathe, crippling panic bubbling up inside. All she wants to do is close her eyes and scream, break these chains and drag him back to safety, but she can’t move, she can’t take her eyes off her twin as he’s dangled over the edge.

“What will it be Scrooge? Adventure? Or your Family?”

‘Just do what he wants!’ She’s not ashamed of the thought. They’ll figure out a way to reverse the contract, there’s always a way, always a loophole. Just do it so she can see her brother safely on solid ground.

“Alright, I’ll do it.”

She can’t say she’s surprised at how quickly he gives in.

“No! Don’t!” Donald screams, “find a way out! You can beat him!”

The pen is already in his hand. “It’s not worth the risk lad.”

They can only watch in horror at the golden glow that circles around him, lifting him up and binding him with unbreakable chains that drag him to the ground.

“I did it!” Bradford crows triumphantly. “The great Scrooge McDuck, now only a poor old man!”

Della’s heart breaks just a little at the look of absolute misery on her old uncle’s face, but she doesn’t have time to mourn properly, because Bradford is talking. Again.

“Normally I wouldn’t indulge in such petty villainy,” he says, his gaze turning back to Donald, still dangling over the edge, with a glint in his eye that makes Della’s blood run cold. “But since this is a special occasion.”

He lets go.

Della’s eyes meet Donald’s for an agonising second, and then he’s gone.

There’s a flash of red, and someone is screaming.

She doesn’t even realise it’s her until a rough hand knocks her back.

“Shut it! Or it’ll be you next!”

Hot tears stream down her beak and she presses her forehead into the cold concrete, not even bothering to choke back a sob. Over the pounding of her own taunting heartbeat in her ears, she hears the sound of the machine powering down (‘Too late’ her traitorous mind provides), of her kids voices yelling something, and Scrooge shouting for them to be careful.

And Bradford, confused and angry as her family finally, finally step in to save the day.

His voice sets off something inside that she hadn’t felt since the day Lunaris betrayed her. A raging anger that burns through her, overwhelming any other emotion and completely taking over her mind.

The chains are no longer an obstacle, and even Beakley can’t stop her from launching herself at the buzzard. They tumble down the stairs, fists flying and feet kicking. Everything blurs after that, which may or may not be a side effect of a rather painful bump on the head as they hit the ground at the bottom of the staircase. She’s kicked off, then it’s just a cloud of lights and bodies and a strong arm holding her back from doing anything overly-reckless and potentially stupid.

The kids, her (their) beautiful, wonderful kids, figure out the loophole and the ever-binding contract disintegrates.

It’s done.

The maniacal villain is defeated once more. The world has returned to rights and the sounds of celebration fill the air.

But Della can only stand and watch, her hands trembling and eyes burning. Beakley stands behind her, hands hovering just behind her shoulders, ready to give comfort if needed.

He’s gone.

Her brother, the other half of her soul; just… gone.

And… oh.

Her knees buckle, a wrecked sob forcing its way from her throat. Beakley catches her with a arm round the shoulders and a hand under her elbow, lowering her gently to the ground as she crumples into a ball. She presses her hands to her eyes in a hopeless attempt to stem the tears as everything comes crashing down.

“It’s okay, let it out dear.”

He shouldn’t have been here. He should’ve been on that amazing adventure with Daisy, sailing together on that old houseboat. After everything life had thrown at him, after all the madness they’d been through, he’d finally caught a break, finally found that amazing person who loved him as fiercely as he loved her.

Then Della had come along, crying about lost time and not being ready. She hadn’t wanted to him to leave, even on a stupid vacation that he would very clearly be coming back from.

Now he wouldn’t even get the chance to go.

And it’s all her fault.

“Mom?”

The obvious confusion and concern in Huey’s voice is enough to send her tumbling over the edge all over again, fresh tears springing up at the thought of having to explain what happened to her- to his kids.

Scrooge hurries them away, and she tries not to listen to the hushed explanation, the startled gasps, and she has to cover her ears for the rest. She can’t stand it.

It’s all her fault.

“DELLA!”

‘What?’

There’s no mistaking that voice.

Her head snaps up so fast she’s half sure she’s given herself whiplash. Even through blurred eyesight, she knows that silhouette, that outfit, that stupid hat. She blinks, sniffing and scrubbing at her face with her sleeve, hardly daring to believe.

It shouldn’t be possible, there’s no way it’s possible. She saw it, she saw him fall, saw the flash of lightning, the empty space where he had been only moments before. She watched her own brother die. So how was he standing ten feet in front of her, laughing as he’s tackled by several small and colourful blurs?

A hand appears in front of her face and she looks up into the stunned face of her uncle. He looks almost as much of a mess as she feels, tearstains tracking down his cheeks and spotting on his coat.

“I think it might be best if we just don’t question it,” he says, helping her to her feet.

His hands are shaking as he holds hers tightly, but she doesn’t comment; it can’t be any worse than her own trembling limbs. They turn back to Donald, who’s ended up sat on the floor under the collective weight of the kids. He’s got a tearful Louie on his shoulder and several kids wrapped around his torso as he struggles to his feet, and Della can see him mouthing a headcount as he takes them all in.

“I swear every time we see you, you have more children.”

She hadn’t even noticed Panchito and José just beside him, grins wide and eyes twinkling with amusement and, in José’s case, something else that she can’t quite place. Donald just laughs at Panchito’s observation, the sound sweet as honey and causing even more tears to well up all round. The pure relief that sweeps through her is almost enough to make her knees give way again, but Scrooge’s hand gripping hers and Beakley’s arm still around her shoulders is just enough to keep her grounded.

Then he catches her eye.

“Hey Dells.”

The kids must see something in her face, cause they have to good sense to dart out of the way just moments before Della hurls herself at her brother. They almost topple backwards, but Donald is able to keep them just about upright while Della just focuses on wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder. His arms circle her waist, holding her just as tightly. The tears are streaming freely now, but she’s beyond caring. He can yell at her about ruining his shirt later and she’ll just take it with a grin.

“You idiot!” she yells, her voice muffled by his shoulder, “I thought you were dead!”

“For a minute, so did I,” he says into her hair, “how about we just call it even?”

The soft jibe only makes her laugh, and she holds him just that little bit tighter.

Miracles do happen, and in the end all that matters is love, family and adventure.

But if he thinks she’s going to let him go galivanting off on some adventure without her now, then he’d better think again.

[shipmistress9]

Sex Toy Advent Calendar: Day 7: Golden Almond Oil

Fandom: HTTYD

Rating: E

Pairing: Hiccup/Astrid

Words: 3018

Summary: Day 7 of the Sex Toy Advent Calendar. After a tough day at work, today's gift is exactly what Hiccup needed.

AN: Oh, look! This series isn't dead after all. 😆 But please don't get your hopes up too much. This chapter is literally the only one I managed to write over the last year. Getting back to it for editing now makes me want to return to it more earnestly, but I can't make promises. There is just so much I want to write...

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little story of fluff and smut. 😊

. o O o .

That morning, the alarm rang way too early. Well, it always did. But today, it was still worse than on other days, and that wasn’t just because it was Monday.

Groaning, Astrid rolled around and nudged Hiccup’s shoulder. “Wake up,” she mumbled. “Turn that off, I wanna sleep.”

Hiccup, her idiot of a boyfriend, had the audacity to laugh. “Sorry to say that, love, but you have to get up, too.”

Astrid groaned some more. Why did he always have to be so practical?

When they got up, both she and Hiccup were limping somewhat noticeably. Yesterday had been amazing, the new toy had seen a lot of more use. It had been fantastic, no doubt about that. But that didn’t change how those few hours of sleep hadn’t been enough to fully recharge their bodies.

Astrid noticed though, that Hiccup was apparently worse off than she was. “You okay, babe?” she asked when he leaned onto a sideboard, a grimace on his face and one hand reaching for his bad leg.

He nodded, but with a strained expression. “Yeah, will have to be okay. Just some stiff muscles from yesterday. Was totally worth it, though.” He grinned. “Let’s go and see what we get today.”

The box was black with a golden ‘7’ printed on the front. It was on the bigger side again, but Astrid eyed it with suspicion as Hiccup held it out for her to open it.

“That’s the same size as that awful lube,” she noted skeptically. “Same weight, too.”

“Well, I doubt it actually is the same. But we won’t find out until you opened it,” he deadpanned.

Astrid stuck her tongue out at him and opened the box. Hiccup was right; she didn't expect it to be another bottle of that weird lube. So she grimaces when the box actually contained a very similar-looking bottle.

“Okay, it’s not the same,” she muttered, squinting at the label. “It’s… massage oil, with an almond scent, apparently.” She looked up with a slight frown. “Do almonds have a specific scent?”

Hiccup frowned and shrugged. “I guess we'll see.” He fumbled with the lid until it was open and sniffed. “Huh, not bad… I think?”

“You don’t seem so sure,” she snickered as he held out the bottle for her.

“It's… hard to describe. Unusual to be sure.”

Intrigued, Astrid sniffed at the bottle as well. And hummed. “Mmh. Do you know what this reminds me of? Marzipan. You know, the good stuff that college friend of yours once sent us from Germany? That’s the scent.”

He took the bottle and sniffed again, then his face cleared and he grinned. “You’re right! Okay, so this isn’t so bad. So it's massage night tonight. Honestly, after yesterday, I think that’s exactly what I need.”

Chuckling, Astrid stretched to give him a quick peck to the cheek. “Oh, my poor exhausted darling. But yeah, I think that sounds like a good idea.”

. o O o .

It sucked when plans didn't work out.

With a worried expression, Astrid threw yet another glance at the clock on the wall and sighed. Hiccup had called her earlier. There had been an accident at the workshop, nothing life threatening but for their own safety everyone had to stay until the mess of parts and chemicals was cleaned up. That had been around five, usually the time Hiccup would get on his way back home. Now, it was already close to ten in the night and he still wasn’t back. He’d texted her occasionally, keeping her informed, so she didn’t worry that something bad had happened to him. That didn't change that she worried for him, though. His leg had already acted up this morning; an intense day at work would have him in pain at any rate. But this? This had to be so much worse.

It was close to half-past ten when she heard the key in the lock and sprang up to greet her boyfriend. And blinked when she saw that he wasn’t alone.

“One boyfriend, directly delivered to the door. We apologise for the slight damage to the package but it was already in this awful shape when we got it.”

In bafflement, Astrid stared at Eret’s grin, half smug and half apologetic, before her gaze wandered on to Hiccup’s sheepish smile. Her lips twitched.

“You know, if your leg hurts too much for you to drive, then I could pick you up, too.”

Hiccup nodded. “I know, but—”

“—but it makes more sense for me to simply drop him off,” Eret interrupted. “It’s not that much of a detour for me, far less effort that you driving the entire way to the workshop and back again.”

Astrid accepted his explanation with a nod. He was right, after all. No point in arguing. “Thanks, Eret!”

He gave her a cheeky wink and then let her take over stabilising Hiccup. “Anytime. And don’t worry about your car, buddy,” he said to Hiccup. “I can pick you up the day after tomorrow, too, no problem. But now, have a good night, you two. Get some rest.” He waved at them and jogged off.

Still a little bemused, Astrid helped a limping Hiccup inside and toward the couch. “The day after tomorrow?” she asked. “Don't you have another shift tomorrow morning?”

Hiccup sank into the cushions and let out a low groan. “Usually, I would have, yes. But Gobber saw how much trouble I had with my leg after today's cleaning job and gave me a day off. I tried to tell him I don’t need that much time, but he wouldn’t hear any of it.”

Snorting, Astrid shook her head. “I’m glad at least he's looking out for you when you're unwilling to do so yourself. A day's rest will do your leg good.”

Hiccup pouted for a minute, but then sighed. “You’re right. I just didn't want to admit it, I guess. I mean, we had plans, right? But I probably have to accept that I won’t move much anymore today.”

Astrid raised an eyebrow. “That's what you're concerned about?” She hadn’t even thought much about their calender and today’s box after Hiccup’s first message anymore.

“Well, I know you've been looking forward to tonight. And so have I. I totally wanted to spoil you; I had it all planned out already. But now, I can barely move anymore and none of that is going to happen.”

She regarded him with a long look, her lips twitching. How was it possible that her boyfriend was occasionally so absolutely adorable? “Well, then we have to change that plan, don’t you agree?”

She didn’t wait for his answer, just stood up and left the room to get a few things. When she returned, she found Hiccup with his eyes closed, grimacing as he reached to get his prosthetic off.

“Do you want me to help you with that?”

Hiccup nodded, and she knelt down by his side to help with the trousers and the mechanism, intimately familiar with his amputation site. Once the prothetic was gone, he let out a relieved sigh. “Ah, that’s much better. Maybe having a day off to give my leg some rest isn’t such a bad idea after all.”

Astrid snorted but didn’t reply. Instead, she held the pot with his cooling balm up, the one he often used to relieve himself of some pain in his leg. “How about I give you a massage with this?”

“Yes, please. That would be wonderful,” he said, then added with a rueful smile, “Not quite the scent of marzipan treats, though.”

With a grin, she held up her other hand where she held the bottle with the almond oil. “Depending on how you feel, I can always switch to this once I’m done with your leg. But you better take off your trousers or they’ll get soiled.”

Hiccup’s lips twitched. "Not quite how I imagined this night… But I certainly won’t complain.” He leaned back on the couch and let Astrid help rearrange his leg on the cushions. She’d even brought a large towel for him to lie on in case things got… messy.

But for all the hope and possibilities for more later on, Astrid’s primary goal was to relieve Hiccup of some of his pain. She scooped some the balm from the pot and spread it over her hands. It smelled of peppermint and left a tingling sensation on her skin.

With gentle care, she took his stump into her hands and worked the balm into his skin, muscles, and scars. After a minute or three, Hiccup noticeably relaxed, tension somewhat leaving his body as he sank deeper into the cushions. Smiling softly to herself, Astrid focused on the task at hand. After years, she knew Hiccup, every part of him, and this was no exception. She knew which of his scars were numb and which were sensitive, sometimes even painfully so. She knew which parts of his muscles were prone to cramps and tension, knew how to loosen them carefully.

As always, it was slow progress, there was no point in hurrying through this treatment, but still Astrid enjoyed it, in a way. It was proof of how intimately Hiccup trusted her, letting her handle this oh so vulnerable part of his body. She’d never thought less of him for having lost half his leg—but she also knew that not everyone had treated him with the same respect.

About half an hour later, Hiccup let out a deep sigh. “I think I’m okay now. But thank you so much, I didn’t know how much I needed that.” He threw her a lazy smile.

“Anytime, baby.” She pulled a thin protective sock over the stump, something to keep the balm in place so it could truly soak in and not soil everything around. “Now just let me clean this off my hands and then I can switch to using the marzipan oil?”

It wasn’t really meant as a question. But since it was fairly late after a trying day for Hiccup, she would totally understand if he was too tired to do anything more and just wanted to sleep now.

But as it was, he didn’t protest in the slightest when she returned and uncapped the bottle with the shimmering golden oil. She took that as a good sign.

“So, what do you want? Should I dive right in for some polishing or do you want me to do your back, too?”

Hiccup smirked at her words, but then grew thoughtful. “Actually, including my back would be fantastic. And maybe the thighs and the calf, too?” He gave her a sheepish smile.

“Sure, I can do that,” Astrid replied. She helped him roll onto his front and began to work on his back. Often impatient and eager to get things done, this was a task Astrid didn’t want to rush. On the one hand, she found the muscles in Hiccup’s back to be even more tense than on other occasions; this day really had taken its toll on his body, and she was glad that through this massage, she could help him at least a little. And on the other hand… Well, she loved massages. The fact that it was a decent work-out aside, she loved the intimacy, the closeness. Feeling Hiccup skin to skin was always good, and it made her happy to explore him in this slightly different and more relaxed way. She took her time to map his back, his shoulders, working on all the knots and hardened muscles she could find. In other places, she used not only her hand but also her arms to spread the oil, to feel him and let him feel her in return.

Hiccup obviously appreciated her efforts, groaning—slightly in pain as these things went—whenever she focused on a specific spot and humming when her ministrations grew softer. And it worked, too. After about half an hour, when Astrid moved on to his legs, he was noticeably more relaxed, all but melting into the cushions where he lay.

His legs were no better than his back, muscles hard beneath her hands as she worked the tension out of them. What was different, though, were Hiccup’s reactions. Every time her hands found a sore spot, his hips twitched and the groans he let out weren’t entirely pained anymore either.

Astrid registered all that with a smirk. So he apparently wasn’t too tired for more, after all. But still, she wouldn’t rush it. She kept prodding and kneading at his thighs before her hands slowly pushed upwards toward his backside.

“It’s unfair how perfect this ass is, do you know that?”

Hiccup chuckled, interrupted by a breathy moan. “I dimly remember people mentioning something like that before.”

He yelped when Astrid gave him a light swat on his right cheek and then groaned when she groped him more deliberately. He really had the best ass she’d ever seen.

“Want to turn around so I can massage your front, too?” she asked a minute or so later.

Hiccup hesitated for only a heartbeat before he nodded and let her help him turn around again. As he settled on his back, watching her avidly, she noticed with a smirk that his cock was slowly filling out already. So he wasn't too tired for a little fun. Good.

But first, she continued her massage. The front of his thighs needed some attention, but if she was honest with herself, then even that was mostly foreplay at this point. It was just so much fun to tease him, to let her hands wander up the inside of his thighs until she almost touched his cock, to watch him bob in anticipation. By the time she was done with his legs, he was fully erect and needy little gasps escaped him.

“Looks like there’s some more tension that needs taking care of,” she hummed, tracing along the sensitive underside of his cock with the tip of her finger. “But it'll have to wait a little longer.”

Hiccup groaned but knew better than to protest as her hands moved further up his body, splaying over his chest. His muscles here were tense, too, but massaging them was more of a pretense. What she wanted was more intimacy, more contact. With slow motions, she spread the oil over his torso, his shoulders, his arms. She took a minute or three to play with his nipples, enjoying how he twitched and moaned at her teasing. Oh, he was so much fun to play with.

Leaning back, she gave herself a moment to admire Hiccup. His lean body, covered in freckles and with a light dusting of hair on his chest, glowed with a golden shimmer, covered in oil as he was. The almond scent was a pleasant addition, and she'd probably always remember him like this from now on whenever she got her hands on some marzipan treats.

But first, there was another treat waiting for her. Her eyes wandered back to Hiccup’s cock, resting full and flushed against his stomach. Teasing his nipples had been enough to make him leak precome, a pearly white drop which she caught on her finger and brought to her mouth.

“There's more if you like it that much,” Hiccup commented, voice breathy and eyes clinging to her finger still in her mouth.

Astrid's lips twitched. Hiccup usually wasn’t this blatant; him making such a direct comment showed her how needy he really was, even as he tried to not let it show. But she still shook her head, a little ruefully. “I know, but I've got to say… as good as this oil smells, it's taste is awful.”

“Pitty,” he muttered, then gasped when she firmly wrapped her hand around his cock.

“At least it provides good lubrication to you parts,” she snickered. “And this one you don’t even have to clean up.”

He chuckled at her joke, but whatever reply he might have had on his tongue died the moment her hand started moving. He let out a low guttural groan, his head falling back into the cushions with his eyes closed, hands clutching at the towel.

Her comment about the oil being good lubrication had been meant as nothing but a joke, but it proved to actually be true. Astrid’s hands moved along his cock with just the right amount of friction to be pleasant without being painful.

She started out with slow strokes up and down his shaft, paying special attention to his frenulum every time she moved over it. Hiccup whined at the teasing lack of speed, but did nothing to make her hurry. After all, he enjoyed a slow seduction like this just as much as she did.

Every now and then, she moved one hand to massage his balls or rub his glans, moving in maddening circles. Hiccup groaned, his body shaking and twisting. With gleaming eyes, she watched him turn more needy, more desperate, how his breathing became more laboured, his eyes hazy with lust.

She didn’t make it as quick as she could have, but drawing it out for too long wasn’t her plan tonight, either. She loved playing with Hiccup, but he would need his rest. Eventually.

“Ah-Astrid,” he groaned, head thrown back and the cords in his neck standing out tightly. “C-close.”

Astrid hummed. On other days, she might have slowed down now, but tonight, she kept going. It only took a few more strokes along his cock, a little more rubbing at his head, and then he spilt over her hands, hips shuddering and with a low whine dropping off his lips.

Satisfied with her handiwork, Astrid cleaned him and her hands with some baby wipes, then leaned down to nuzzle at his neck.

“Thanks,” Hiccup murmured, tiredly turning his head to kiss her hair. “I promise, tomorrow I’ll make it up to you.”

Chuckling, she helped him up and all but carried him over to their bed. “I’ll hold you accountable for that, you know?”

* - . - * - . o O o . - * - . - *

If you want to leave a tip you can buy me a coffee. I love coffee 😊 (Ko-Fi)

[eirikrjs]

Adramelech is such a beautiful horse person. 😍 What do you think?

Hooooo boy.

There's a story to this because of course Adramelech has been the poster boy for how good Doi can actually be. But this was when he was just a piece of static art and experienced by someone like me who turns voice acting off a lot of the time (proven by the stream as I am consistently floored by some of 4A's English delivery).

Now with the upgraded presentation and their choices, I’m torn. The idea that Adramelech is gay-coded because he’s Lucifer’s wardrobe manager was always there but it was easy to ignore as “just art” and with fairly straightforward dialogue. But now they are choosing to entirely define Adramelech as “fabulous” gay as part of his visual identity.

Honestly, the dance and animation are fantastic. But there’s just something that gets to me about this kind of stereotyping. Simply, I think it’s creatively lazy to make the fashion guru gay. Not every gay man guest hosted Queer Eye. And so far it’s not a negative stereotype or anything, Adramelech isn’t a predator or similar. It’s just a matter of picking the low-hanging fruit and amplifying it as if it’s somehow unique or special.

Then there’s the pan itself, which has always been a minor blemish on the design to me since 1. Doi’s reference for the design was likely a low-res reproduction of the Dictionnaire art that was on Adram’s JP Wikipedia page for the longest time and 2. instead of seeking other sources with better detail to make out his magnifying glass, he turned it into a Japanese-style pan. While at the time I felt like this was a giveaway that his overall frame of references was limited, now the pan is also amplified as part of his identity. It sure is something.

I would usually say that the animations/alternate visual presentations shouldn’t factor into as assessment of a demon’s design but SMT is totally emphasizing it (for newly modeled demons only, of course). I’d say it’s to the point of going overboard and, honestly, and I’m definitely going to use the short animations. I’ve already lived through enough long Final Fantasy summon animations. It’s a time apart from Nocturne’s quick battle animations (which will make the old demons look “boring” in comparison).

 A good animation can enhance a design, as such as Baphomet only doing the “as above, so below” pose of his Levi art in his animation. But Adramelech’s will be a slight irritation for me for the reasons above. Idun is similar; the design is mediocre and as art there’s not much more to say about it but the motivations behind it and her “idol” dancing will just make me roll my eyes. 

It’s a new 3D era for SMT and with it comes new ways of lending character to demons, for better or worse.

(gifs by @b-reis)

EDIT: ADDITIONAL CONTEXT FOR THE PAN

With @dijeh‘s help, we found (re-found?) the type of pan Adramelech holds:

This is according to Doi’s own comment: it’s a hinoshi, an iron for getting wrinkles out of clothes! So that’s a bit more clever than I thought. It’s still inexplicable to me, though, for a European demon to use a Japanese instrument. I guess Dagda imported it for him while he was in Japan for the Krishna short story.