#getting those fragments is where more lead up story is found so

[the-cooler-harmonybot]

as someone who is writing story for a game and a comic at the same time, firstly it's so interesting how different the narrative is approached in general but specifically with endings in something branching vs linear like. with games you can write the most fucked up hypothetical where all of the main characters die and it's fine because it's the bad non-canon ending. but in a comic/story (at least the kind i'm writing) you have to fucking COMMIT to the direction you go. terrifying

[mazzystar24]

Thank you so much for being so kind and replying to my ask! I think I understand it a little better now and I do agree with some of it. There were really sweet moments between them that made me happy but OH how it hurt to see buck just standing outside the restaurant. Yeah he freaked out a little but even lou said it wasn't ok of tommy and he wouldn't have done that. His defenders should really look into that lol judging from his interviews, he is a buddie endgame shipper and I love that

I'm kinda used to people blaming everything on buck but it still sucks. If he "shoved tommy back in the closet", they also have to acknowledge the comment tommy made when eddie was there...thank goodness he was so oblivious

But I do blame the writers a little bit for making tommy seem so...distant? Mysterious? There's potential because he has a connection to their world but we don't know nearly enough about him. We know chim, hen and bobby were good with him when he left all those years ago but now? Show us!!

Most of all, I hope they are not "done" with buck's storyline because he deserves more. He was barely a side character for the remaining episodes and that made me really sad. Oliver looks happier again though, so maybe there's hope?

No problem ofc like as long as you’re respectful to me I’ll always give that back

UGHH YESSS ABT THE COMMENT AT THE DATE LIKE IF TOMMY WAS IN FACT OUT AND BUCK WAS PUSHING HIM IN THE CLOSET AS THEY CLAIM THEN TOMMYS LINE WOULD IN FACT BE OUTING HIM

Like personally I do take it as dig meant for buck only to understand - which brings its own fucking rage to me ngl but these toxic fans’ interpretation is somehow even worse for their fav

Me personally sorry but I’m kinda like just get rid of tommy atp and you know that but I totally get how you feel and would be disappointed in your place too

Also I totally agree and definitely hope that they really delve into and develop Buck’s bi arc further

I think they honestly kinda fumbled last season because of the shorter season and how much shit they tried to fit like I was saying this before but s8 should’ve been treated like s1/s2 where like you have some character building and like personal shit and then keep the rest fairly uncomplicated with like a few big things here and there and a strong sense of found family in it and hitting that balance of not overloading yourself while also keeping things interesting

Instead we kinda had boom big thing boom big thing boom here is an even more complicated big thing boom another big thing and it all felt very frazzled and all over the place and also really fragmented

And cos of all these big things you end up not able to give any one big thing the levity or development or the depth it can have

Leading to a mess of having buck pushed straight to the sidelines story wise after two eps of his bi arc then bobby having shit from Minnesota but also cartel and also house getting burnt down but also him being suicidal but also him nearly dying and us getting no scenes from the team at his bedside and then you have Eddie and his doppelgänger mess and chimney and his enciphillitus and it’s just all gives you a little bit of an overload without ever getting the pay off or the development

Like I love the show and love the writing for the most part but I gotta say s8 had a strong start that I thought it’d battle for my fav season but then it just started slipping when you could feel how limited in eps they were and also the writing style of not planning ahead for a lot of things

Idk if I explained any of that clearly 😭😭

[kurzler]

Hi, I recently saw your post of your rant about Greek Mythology and I'm recently interested in getting into it.

I know a bit about some myths from school, we read versions of Pandora's box, the Minotaur, Heracules, and the Odyssey. This was Year 4 so I was around 8-9, so there all probably a version for a child to read and understand. I also listened to Epic the Musical. I am fully aware of the inaccuracies of it from the original.

I'm just so overwhelmed on where do I start? Also I want to read the Iliad and Odyssey do have any recommendations for any versions?

hi! thank you for the ask, i'm gonna try my best to be helpful

disclaimer: i'm not a classicist nor a professional, this is just a passion of mine, so if anyone who has more credentials than me wants to chime in i'd be more than happy!

so! im gonna be listing some texts to look into, most of them i think are easily found on the internet, since they are so ancient and iconic. but before getting into that, i've found some helpful sites:

this site is a collection of classical texts: of course i'm not gonna be able to list every classical text here, i'm gonna recommend a few, so this is a good place to look if you want more, but i don't necessarily recommend reading them directly from here, since i know some of the translations are a bit outdated

this site, part of the same project, serves as a guide to gods, creatures, and heroes: again, some information may be a bit outdated, but it's a good place if you want to get a general idea

now, onto the texts themselves, there are a few i would recommend:

-the theogony by hesiod tells the origin of the gods and their genealogy

-works and days also by hesiod might be a little harder to get through, since it's mostly hesiod telling his brother how to work a farm, but it also contains the story of prometheus and pandora, and the myth of five ages

-the bibliotheca by pseudo-apollodorus is a collection of myths from the events of the theogony to odysseus, and it contains many famous myths, like those of the argonauts, perseus, heracles, theseus and various others

-the homeric hymns are useful it you want to know more about the gods, they are 33 and tell the stories of the birth of some gods or the establishment of their cult. they are 33, but some of the most famous are the hymn to demeter (the story of persephone's abduction), the hymn to athena (her birth from zeus' head) and the hymn to hermes (him stealing apollo's cows and creating the lyre)

-of course, the iliad and the odyssey by homer. the iliad comes chronologically before the odyssey and, contrary to popular belief, it isn't the story of the trojan war, but it covers a part of the last year of the war. the odyssey also isn't the linear journey of odysseus, it's mostly told in flashbacks

-the iliad and the odyssey are part of the epic cycle, a collection of works that tells a story that spans from the events leading up to the trojan war, the war itself, and the aftermath. apart from the iliad and the odyssey, the other works only survive in fragments, but they're worth looking into if you're curious about the trojan war

-finally, i also recommend reading some theatrical plays

from euridipus i recommend: medea, iphigenia in aulis, the trojan women

from sophocles i recommend: oedipus rex, antigone

from aeschylus i recommend: prometheus bound, the oresteia

now, as for what translation/version to read for the iliad and the odyssey, i'm afraid i can't be of much help because english isn't my first language, so i haven't read them in english and i can't offer firsthand advice, i've searched online and this is what i've found:

this is a collection of translations of the iliad and this is a collection of translations of the odyssey. overall, i've seen that the three translations that are most commonly suggested are by robert fagles, emily wilson and e.v. rieu. again, i haven't read these translations firsthand so if i'm mistaken, let me know!

i hope this helps you🫶

[floatingcatacombs]

Trying to Talk About Touhou Two

12 Days of Aniblogging 2024, Day 10

Hot off the heels of my touhoublogging last year, I continued playing through the games, and am proud to say that I now have a one-credit clear on every Touhou game from 6 to 19! It’s been a hell of a journey, and I’m legitimately proud of myself for rising up to the challenge, taking my own advice from last year whenever I could to great effect. Today’s post is mostly going to be about various official Touhou manga, but I might as well wrap up the game discussion from last year first.

My favorite games of the pack ended up being Subterranean Animism (11), Legacy of Lunatic Kingdom (15), and Double Dealing Character (14). While I praised the hell out of Subterranean Animism last year, the other two might surprise you! I’ve totally flipped on LoLK since last year – it’s a rough game if played traditionally, because it’s really meant to be played on the new checkpointing mode. The checkpointing system unique to Touhou 15 also leads to the spell cards in having a fundamentally different design than the rest of the series – attacks are actively designed to trip you up, like they’re puzzles to be solved more than anything. There’s a lot of micrododging and fast maneuvering required, but most of the patterns are fairly deterministic, so experimentation is strongly encouraged. It leads to a frustrating first playthrough but an incredible sense of satisfaction with every small bit of ground gained, and the ability to save and quit and return later helps sell the feeling of going on a long journey that the game’s plot is conveying. The music is amazing and I love you Junko. Meanwhile, Double Dealing Character ended up being a sleeper hit for me! It’s got a chaotic and lighthearted story where you beat up a bunch of monstergirls before proceeding to explore an upside-down castle, which means that it’s legally a Castlevania game. There’s a real sense of constant forward momentum here, with the expanded point of collection system encouraging frantic risk-taking with very high potential rewards on the other side. It’s straightforward, simple fun, and Seija’s whole deal is great, so I'm glad that she got her own spinoff. The soundfont for Touhou 14 and 15 really feels special…. I love you Retrologue Crystal Lake and Retrologue Pristine Chime for being part of ZUN’s toolkit during this time.

Of course, there are some more flawed games, too. One of the reasons that Touhou 14 feels like such a breath of fresh air is that 13 is just plain sleepy. Ten Desires offers very few resources to the player, meaning that dying once early on can be a run-ender. There aren’t really any systems you can engage with to gain extra bombs or lives beyond a passive accumulation of fragments over time, making the whole thing a slow and unexciting affair. Miko’s fight is at least brilliant. Touhou 16, Hidden Star in Four Seasons, sought to provide a very “traditional” experience for those turned off by LoLK’s radical one-time changes. Unfortunately, this leaves it a bit uninteresting and aesthetically bland, though I get that it’s important to the lore. Finally, Touhou 18, Unconnected Marketeers, is ZUN’s first swing at metaprogression mechanics, and suffers a lot for it. It’s very difficult to gain power in this game, which means that dying just once is ruinous, especially since it's a very hard game to begin with. You really have to cheese this one, which means that I kept going for the same ability cards again and again once I found out what worked. I managed to beat it with liberal use of the “your power cannot fall below 3” card, so thanks Mamizou. Unconnected Marketeers does at least have a spinoff called 100th Black Market which I found to be great. People tend to like one or the other, but not both, because the metaprogression systems play out very differently even if they share ability cards.

So, what are my Optimal Touhou Design takeaways from all of this? You want an extra lives system which rewards you the more you engage with it, while also allowing for small mistakes here and there. Games with a higher ceiling of earnable lives feel a lot better than the alternative, while being stingy with bombs is a valid decision and makes those games feel like an extra challenge to rise up to. I’ll learn to love the new characters no matter what if the game is fun enough, but the music and atmosphere are important to get right. And lastly, continued experimentation is decidedly worth it.

Having familiarized myself with all of the modern Touhou characters, I could finally read all the manga! I tried a few times in the past, when the only games I’d really played were 6 and 10, but I felt intimidated by an endless onslaught of characters I didn’t know and was expected to at least be somewhat familiar with. While I’m sure some wiki-diving would have cleared that up, playing through all of the games felt like it would be the more fun approach, and it paid off. Without further ado… some Touhou manga I read this year!

Wild and Horned Hermit

First things first, the artistic evolution here is quite impressive. The manga goes from dinky little sketches in the early chapters to a fully developed and soothing style. Wild and Horned Hermit was being published for ten years! That's a long run for any manga, but here it means that it spanned from Touhou 12 to Touhou 17, which was an incredibly pivotal time for the project that introduced some of my favorite characters. As far as broader arcs go, we move from the religious wars into the sage conflicts, but these generally aren't the main focus of the manga. Instead, Wild and Horned Hermit is about the minor antics and everyday lives of all the humans and youkai you’ve hopefully come to know and love. This is the slice of life-inflected version of Gensokyo that’s plenty implied in the games, but that you can’t ever actually experience there because you’re too busy shooting danmaku at every fairy and youkai in sight. The Incidents of each main game happen off-screen, which seems to be a constant with ZUN-written manga. Instead, we’re dealing with the setup and aftermath of larger events, and the girls from the new games will usually get be introduced with a few focus chapters, which is nice. Kasen is a fairly straightforward POV character, even if she’s got plenty of mysterious connections, helping her bridge the gap between the humans and some of the more out-there youkai. But ultimately, the manga’s goal is to follow Reimu and Marisa as they go about their lives, and it’s a joy to witness.

Forbidden Scrollery

I know this manga has its fans (it’s also the only one to be officially published in English), but it didn’t leave nearly as much of an impression on me as Wild and Horned Hermit. They actually ran concurrently for a while! Our insert character this time is a librarian in the human village, so the stories lean towards rumors and legends, though there’s plenty of other youkai schemes afoot as there always are. It’s funny to see which youkai keep showing up in these largely human-centric stories, and it makes sense that it’s Aya and Mamizou, both of whom really like blending in with humans and causing mischief. As far as I can tell, this is the manga that introduced Aya’s plucky newsboy outfit, so I can’t be too hard on it.

you are perfect

The Fairy Bullshit

Makoto Hirasaka has illustrated three separate comedy manga series about the misadventures of the shitty little fairies that live in a tree by Reimu’s shrine. He also did the all the portraits for the spinoff game Fairy Wars! These are breezy, inessential reads, but the artwork really is special. It is canon to me that all of the fairies look this stumpy, and maybe also Marisa.

Marisa exists in the superposition of being both 5'1" and 6'1"

Lotus Eaters

This may well be the definitive Touhou manga. While Wild and Horned Hermit has the privilege of getting to introduce a lot of important characters and lore details as they emerge, Lotus Eaters demands more of a setting understanding up front. But if you’ve got that, it’s like seeing old friends. This is what Touhou has ultimately become to me and so many other people – a framework for these beloved characters to hang out, occasionally get up to some antics, and otherwise take things easy. Every mini-incident in this manga begins and gets wrapped up in two long chapters, which provides a nice narrative rhythm that still manages to feel fairly organic. The new character, Miyoi, is far less of a presence than Keisen was – this is The Reimu Show, and maybe sometimes The Mamizou Show. And isn’t that why we’re here at the end of the day? To check in on the friends and inhabitants of the Hakurei Shrine, especially the times when they're not resolving major incidents. And in that regard, it’s decadent. True to the narrative framing of a supernatural bar, this is Touhou Cheers. Characters are constantly drinking together and running festivals and having a grand old time, and I love it. The manga really does feel true to its name. Coming from Forbidden Scrollery and Hornet Hermit, the artstyle here took a few chapters to get used to, but now I truly adore it. It’s like everyone’s hair has been ruffled just a bit.

There are a few stray series that I didn’t get to, and obviously an endless amount of doujin to chip away at, but I’ve really enjoyed my time in the world of Touhou manga. All of these would probably be uninteresting as standalone works, but as corollaries to the games and the broader Touhou world, they’re fantastic. The games and the print works really round each other out – characters don’t get many lines in the games, and the world of Gensokyo is only broadly sketched out. The manga helps fill in these spaces, making them feel more real and lived-in, while also periodically canonizing popular fan characterizations and extrapolations.

Maybe next year I’ll become a Hifuuhead, but seeing as I’ve already read its greatest cultural export (Otherside Picnic), it doesn’t feel quite as urgent. Adieu.

[marvelstars]

INTERVIEW WITH CHRIS CLAREMONT BY by Fr. Niko Bekris about God Loves, Man Kills and Magneto

FN: In your introduction to God Loves, you mentioned that one of the greatest quotes to inspire you was Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech, and being judged on the content of one’s character. I love how you incorporated the imagery of that into “Xavier’s Dream”- tolerance, living together, loving those who hate us. That’s always been something very powerful that I’ve loved about the book during your tenure on it. It’s been speculated that when Stan Lee first created the characters, he included a notion of the Civil Rights Movement of the 60s, but when you came on board was when we started hearing more about “Xavier’s Dream,” and of Magneto as a Holocaust survivor.

CHRIS CLAREMONT: So I thought that, if Begin found it in himself to make that change, why not Magneto? And if Magneto could find it, again from a dramatic perspective, you’re left with a character who is plagued by fundamental guilt and fundamental conflict.

If Charlie’s dumping this responsibility on his shoulders has the desired effect, he then has to look back on the portion of his life where he was a villain and deal with the guilt and ramifications of that, but he can also be plagued by his doubt-

“Am I making the right decision? Have I made the right decision?

If I use my powers the way I used to just this once, that’ll be okay, right? I won’t do it again, just this once. It’ll be easier.

It’ll resolve the situation quickly, efficiently, no one will know. I can get away with it… but should I?”

That as a dramatist, is a lot more fun to play with.

The idea was to bring the conflict into the foreground, but in the process, make him the more empathetic and dramatic character.

Regrettably, corporate policy wanted him as a villain.

Source: https://christcoffeecomics.com/2015/06/24/interview-with-chris-claremont-part-1/

While Claremont got inspiration from the history of Menachem Begin, it wasn´t his zionist ideas the thing that Claremont related to Magneto but rather his capability to change his pov, his methods and in the end seek a benefice of all parties involved.

Claremont´s intention on the X-men was to try to reflect how the polarization in society often leads to both parties having opposite povs that end up fragmenting society, just like Charles and Magneto´s ideological fight ended up fragmenting mutantkind cause.

In the end Claremont wanted Magneto to change, to take over Charles X-men leadership, lead by example, have doubts over his former actions as a radical defensor of mutants and worry about both humans and mutants, constantly taking care of not using his old methods that cost many lifes in the past and honestly it´s a great narrative that goes beyond the ideological pov and goes right into the light and darkness inside human nature.

He was forced to change his story in the end, Marvel needed a villain but that´s why this aspect of the character always comes back because it´s foundational.

[demonlordclayman]

Okay so LN 22 spoilers under the cut

First of all, as a general rule, I think Fuse is pretty bad at writing romances and I wish he would simply not. The primary problem for me is like...a lot of it is very much the heterosexual thing of just pairing everybody up (Gabiru and Suphia, for example, was super out of left field. How am I supposed to take that seriously?!). There's also the fact that Fuse does a lot of telling when it comes to romance, rather than showing, which makes the romances feel unbelievable and tacked on.

For example, the whole thing with Benimaru, Albis, and Momiji. For the longest time Benimaru's feelings about this situation aren't really addressed at all - in fact, I initially thought he didn't want either of them because of the distinct lack of anything suggesting otherwise. Then eventually he's asked his opinion and we're told that he does in fact want both of them. Like oh okay. Sure. I'm supposed to just believe that I guess? It's a very classic "anime bullshit" type moment of the women fighting voraciously over the man who has no say over anything (which tends to be how Fuse's romances go in general, imo...it's a tired trope to me, a queer enby, but it's very common in this kind of Japanese media so I deal).

I also read and write a lot of romance so my standards may be exceedingly high. That said, tensura isn't about romance and I think it's at it's best when it doesn't try to tackle that!

Anyway so on to my primary topic, Sylvia/Laplace. There is some substance here - however, I'm still bothered by the execution, and this ties broadly into the handling of the Moderate Jesters (my favorite special guys).

My biggest issue here is that the narrative I got from the mtl (so grain of salt...) is that Laplace is going to abandon the Moderate Jesters and go all in with Sylvia and Elmesia. It's the narrative that blood is more important than found family. What I would have liked to have seen (and maybe can still be seen in 23 but I don't have high hopes) is Laplace actually grappling with the idea of both being his family. Like, introducing everyone to Sylvia and Elmesia, and also less the idea that he spontaneously got all of his memory back (?) but that he may not remember everything but he wants to create those bonds again. I think forging new bonds, choosing to rebuild them, is more romantic than getting his memory back full stop.

Again, I think what makes me so bitter about all of this is that Fuse intentionally or not sets up the Moderate Jesters as a sort of unconventional family to me - they seem pretty close and actually care about each other, which is only made more clear in Revenge, but then in the main story it feels like that really isn't used to it's full potential. It isn't a story about them, and I get that, but everything is just so tragic from their perspective. Clayman was killed (and then Rimuru just decided not to bring him back ??? reasons I guess), Footman was killed, Laplace is going off to be with his wife and kid from 2000 years ago...they are fragmented as hell and so it's hard just with a straight face be like "huge w for them to get Jhistav back". It is but at the same time those castle halls will be so empty.

In any case, this is more of a rant than meta but it was something I wanted to get off my chest from the moment I read the section with Laplace and Sylvia. If it wasn't clear, no shade if you like the ship! I do see the appeal. But given where my obsessions lie, I don't think it's surprising that it feels like a slight to me (and truly I already rolled my eyes everytime tensura had a romance).

I'm not sure when I'll get to my fix it fic but I have enough pieces to start on it now at least. Fix it = presence of Wendy leading to resurrected Clayman, and somehow alive Footman as well. I got work to do lol

But on the true dragon note, notice how both of these absurdly powerful women spend all their energy on men - we don't really see the reverse that I can think of. That's also an issue to me. Individually, it's not an issue, but it's a major trend, and that's why I don't really end up enjoying them as much as I could otherwise.

Also some exceptions to the rule, Velgrynd/Ludora is shown over and over (rather than just told) and I don't mind that one particularly (less keen on Velgrynd/Masayuki but what can you do). Velzard/Guy also has interesting features less in the sense of romance and more how it impacts Velzard as we've seen on these later LNs. There are some exceptions, and many of the canon romances in Tensura would be interesting if actually explored... but they mostly aren't, is my issue. Fandom often does a great job of filling in the gaps

[vikingsong]

WIP Wednesday (6/5/24)

Reforged (excerpt)

Merlin Bingo 2024 adopted prompt: “science fiction/fantasy”

Context:

When Albion’s greatest need arrives in the form of an alien invasion, the reincarnated figures of legend must deal with the consequences of their shared past even as they fight for humanity’s future.

Arthur ascends to the British throne after the invasion begins, and he works closely with the team of experts who are trying to determine why the only offensive weapons that have been effective so far against the reptilian aliens are medieval swords. Gwen is a museum curator specializing in medieval weaponry, and Merlin is a paleontologist at the same eclectic museum. Elyan studies materials science and has been called in to assist Gwen and Merlin with their research. They have a status update for Arthur…

“There’s something strange about these swords,” Gwen said, glancing at Elyan. “We’d never noticed it before, but once we started looking…”

Elyan picked up the story. “At first, we thought it was something in the iron itself—like an unusual isotope or something—so we ran a spectrometer analysis on a sample.”

Gwen nodded. “We were half-right. Turns out there is something in the chemical composition of the metal in swords forged in the late 5th to early 13th centuries that isn’t in any of our swords from other eras.”

“Or anywhere else on earth, as far as cutting edge chemists know,” Elyan added.

“So, for those of us who didn’t do A-level chemistry…?” Arthur prompted.

“It means,” Elyan said, grinning like a kid at Christmas, “that we found another element in there—an element that was previously undiscovered.”

Gwen nodded eagerly. “And it’s in all of our swords from that era, or nearly all. There are only a few that don’t have it, but they’re fragmented and terribly deteriorated, far more so than the rest. Interestingly, it doesn’t matter whether they’re katanas or arming swords; if they’re from that era and in even half-decent condition, then they all have that same element, no matter where in the world they were forged.”

“A new element?” Arthur repeated slowly, trying and failing to dig out a mental image of the periodic table from the recesses of his Year 9 memories.

“Yep! Element 120,” Elyan said. “We might even get to name it!”

Gwen’s eyes crinkled at her brother’s exuberance as she turned her attention back to Arthur. “Want to know what the best part is?”

“Uh, sure.”

“They found the same element in the bio samples from the aliens you killed.”

“What?”

Elyan nodded. “I swear, we’re not making this up.”

Arthur glanced between them. “You’re sure it’s not just, I don’t know, residue from the sword?”

“They tested samples from parts that were nowhere near where your sword struck,” Elyan said.

Gwen elaborated. “They tested samples from the teeth, the wing membranes, and a variety of organs and other tissues. Interestingly, the element was most prevalent in the lungs, followed by the mouth and teeth.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I think they mean dragonfire,” Merlin said, strolling into the lab.

“Exactly!” Elyan agreed. “The thing is, scientists haven’t been able to produce element 120—not even in particle colliders—because it’s too unstable. It would go through radioactive decay before the collider sensors could register that it had existed.”

Arthur glanced at the swords on the lab table—with no lead shielding in sight—and took a tiny step back.

“But the swords aren’t radioactive,” Gwen added quickly.

Arthur chose to ignore Merlin’s snickering, looking instead to Elyan for an explanation.

Elyan shrugged. “Even if that element theoretically existed outside of particle colliders, it would take an incredible amount of energy to get it to forge stable molecular bonds—like these—to prevent its radioactive decay.”

Gwen gestured to the sword. “Medieval forges definitely didn’t have the ability to heat steel that hot.” She tapped her gloved fingers against the nearest sword’s pommel. “So what could have forged these, then?”

“Dragonfire,” Merlin repeated with a grin. “When they told me what they’d found, I ran some tests on a couple of the fossilized pterosaur teeth in our collection. Same element.” He shook his head. “Just when I thought pterosaurs couldn’t get any cooler.”

Arthur looked from Merlin to Gwen to Elyan as the pieces clicked. “You mean to tell me that…that those aliens are pterosaurs and real medieval dragons?”

“Or something very, very similar,” Elyan confirmed.

“And that all of them breathed fire?”

“Yes!” Merlin exclaimed.

Arthur decided that Merlin was probably the most radioactive thing in the room; he was vibrating with enthusiasm.

“And, apparently,” Gwen said, leaning a hip against the table, “their dragonfire, this element, is their own kryptonite…or bane, to go a bit more medieval.”

Arthur chewed his lip. “Explains why none of the modern weapons will hurt them.”

“Exactly,” Elyan said. “And why replica swords—”

“Or swords from other eras,” Gwen interjected.

“—don’t have the same effect.”

Arthur couldn’t decide whether to fist-pump or head-desk. “We finally understand what material will work against them,” he summarized, “but we can’t make any more of it.”

“That is the one downside,” Merlin agreed.

“The one downside? You did see the alien invasion up there, right?”

“Yeah, but consider: dragons were real and they breathed fire.”

“The ones burning my kingdom look pretty real, too.”

(Note: I don’t know what source content was used in that gif, but I’m 99% sure it’s supposed to be a nyctosaurus…)

[gauntletspirit]

"Never confuse 'I won't' for 'I can't'."

I don't usually share campaign stories, but this one was too good.

I was doing my attempt at RP pacifist Durge on tactician. I built a Very Good Bean who, after their lobotomy, was horrified by their fragments of memory and urges and wanted nothing to do with them. More of a dual personality than a temptation.

I built them as a warlock, pact of the blade, fiend patron; with the headcanon that their patron was Bhaal. I fully intended that if they survived the climactic fight with Orin they would respec from a warlock into another class. Symbolizing that Jergal helped them sever the bond.

So, despite being pact of the blade, the whole campaign Durge did NOT do damage. Their pact weapon was Phalar Aluve (I made them a drow so that was symbolically appropriate and I pretended Eilistraee was helping to guide them on their way.) and all of their spells were focused on defense and buffing party members. With mage armor Durge was actually very tanky and could soak up hits as well. Which fits with the game lore of Durge supposedly having a very high pain tolerance. (Trying to strangle someone with your own intestines is just METAL. Props, Durge!!) Over the course of the campaign the rhythm of fights becomes Durge supporting with Sing/Shriek and warlock spells for AOE and buffs, and two heavy frontline hitters doing melee with a rotating third party for healing or range as needed.

After ACT 2 one of those frontliners became Minthara. Because Minthara makes you swear to keep her close when she joins you I put her in my party permanently. Just for kicks, and because Durge got a lot of approval without me trying, when Minthara wanted to start a romance I decided why not? They're great together. And Durge wasn't already in a relationship so... Drow power couple. Cool.

So, with that setup knowledge, humor me a moment where I duck into Minthara POV.

You're heading into the Temple of Bhaal, probably the last place on Faerun you want to be. Waiting within is a nest of assassins and murders, all lead by ORIN. The one person who terrifies you more than anything in the world: more than anything in your long, long life of intrigue and bloodshed.

Ever since you've returned to the city you've found clues and heard witnesses state that your partner is quite possibly the most perfect killing machine alive. But you simply can't see it. They are clever and cunning, tactically minded, adept at navigating the various personalities in the group, and skilled at placing people where they will shine. But you have never seen them get their own hands bloody in combat. Nor are you certain that they even know how to use their longsword. They have no armor, no offensive spellcasting capabilities. They rely on you in combat to shield them. They steadfastly, against all logic and reason, refuse to take advantage of their gifts. The blood of a god runs in their veins, and despite all your urging they will not listen to you and use it. It drives you mad.

You're frightened for yourself, but you are more frightened for them. You've a bond with them that you never expected and will never have again. You've seen their mind, you know beyond a doubt that their love for you is true and that they mean it when they say they will die for you. You will never, not in a thousand years, find anyone like them again. You are determined that whatever happens you will NOT lose them.

Orin is there. And Orin is furious. You have not killed Gortash. But your lover talks her down from killing her captive. Goads her, in fact, using inside knowledge of her family to put her off of her guard. Wound her. Despite yourself you half chuckle. Clever, hopefully it won't provoke her to greater ferocity.

Then Orin becomes The Slayer. You have never seen a more fearsome creature. Worse still, a barrier forms cutting Durge off from the rest of the group.

Murder incarnate, and they must face them alone.

As the slayer roars, you see Durge snap their fingers and darkness spreads across the arena. The Slayer leaps forward into the cloud as you hear Phalar Aluve begin to shriek. This is it. You know that you will never see them alive again.

The most horrible sounds of absolute slaughter come from within the darkness. For several agonizing seconds come the unmistakable noises of something being BRUTALIZED. When the Darkness spell begins to fade you know that your love has died—

Durge is standing, untouched, blade bloody, and Orin is dissolving into viscera at their feet.

Your jaw drops. Your allies' jaws drop. The unholy assassins' jaws drop. Bhaal, when he appears, admits "I expected the other." (I had to laugh at how perfect that scripted line was. I couldn't help it.)

So a quick breakdown of what happened

Orin is missing a chunk of health because I played psychological warfare with her and she lost, lmfao. Durge has devil's sight invocation, because of course they do. Why wouldn't they? Durge uses CHAR as a weapon modifier because pact of the blade. Rocking +5 mod as a damage stat. Minthara gave Durge Elemental Weapon on Phalar Aluve before they entered the fight. (She was worried.) Durge was wearing Amulet of the Harpers for Shield, and already had a hella high AC from robe of supreme defenses/mage armor/bracers of defense. Durge was wearing Caustic Ring and Strange Conduit ring. Durge has an awakened tadpole, Luck of the Far Realms, and Perilous Stakes. Durge won initiative. This ended up being the thing that made it all possible: outspeeding Orin.

Round one: Bonus Action: Drink a potion of speed. Action: Drop Darkness Action: Set Phalar Aluve to Shriek

Orin leaps into Darkness, and MISSES ALL HER ATTACKS. I had to drop Shield from Harper's amulet after about 2 of them but I still couldn't believe I got away with it. Darkness stays up.

Round two: Bonus Action (yay Zaithisk!!): Perilous Stakes, Orin fails her save. She is now vulnerable to EVERYTHING. Cut loose with all 4 attacks at advantage. Phalar Aluve, two handed, 1d10+CHAR(5)+1 Elemental Weapon 1d4 lightning Shriek 1d4 thunder Caustic Band 2 acid Strange Conduit, active from Darkness, 1d4 psychic Luck of the far realms Crit on the first attack. All 4 attacks hit.

Orin went down in 1 turn of damage. Never before have I wanted to be able to record my games so much. I had a plan going in because I knew I'd have to solo Orin, but I didn't think it would work THAT well or I'd roll so lucky!! It fit so perfectly into Durge. "Never confuse 'I won't' for 'I can't'." LMFAO Pretty sure only Jaheira and Minsc weren't shocked.

[caramelcoeur]

General Heart Fragment headcanons (pt. 2)

Here is part one for context. This part doesn't contain spoilers sooo we good to go! *clive thumbs up emote*

Throughout middle school, Xani had been well-behaved. There was pretty much only one incident where she got into major trouble. 

It was because of this asshole. This guy was being a jerk to Shannon, starting with some “teasing” - Xani was annoyed by it but Shannon urged her that she was okay. And then he made a crude remark towards Shannon, leading to Xani taking matters into her own hands.

Xani waited until the weekend when she walked up to the guy’s house bearing a couple of egg cartons. Being in middle school, you can see where she’s going with this.

She got called into the principal’s office the next week, was forced to apologise to the family and was issued a week’s worth of detentions. Not wanting Xani to suffer alone, Shannon insisted on sharing the detention with her best friend. You can’t just ask for detention (or maybe that’s just my school idk)

So Shannon spun around, properly clobbered the guy and so she was granted her detentions with Xani <3

Bonus: When Gray ranted about the incident to Dexter, Kay just stood there. “Hehehe”

“Why’d you use fresh eggs? You could’ve waited a few weeks later and then started giving the guy hell. After all, revenge is best served cold… and rotten.” “…how do you even know about that.”

Bonus 2: To this day, Shannon and Kay won’t ever let her forget about that event. Ever. The story was then passed onto Lana (who howled with laughter), who then passed it on to Clive. Xani places all of the blame on Gray for talking about it when Kay was in the room.

Another story takes place when Xani was in middle school, every year in March she would find her father’s search results filled with questions

“What to get a 15-year-old boy for his birthday” “What to get a 16-year-old boy for his birthday” “What to get a 17-year-old boy for his birthday”

“Trendy shirts for 15-year-old boy”

Who is this boy and why is my father giving him the cringiest shirts every year

Those questions were probably answered when Xani met Kay for the first time but what hit it for her was when she found a picture of younger Kay in one of said shirts

*casually saves to gallery* “Revenge.”

Clive can do origami. In his journey to fold 1000 paper cranes, he currently has completed 127 (his fingers hurt)

Natalia has an extremely specific coffee order. And Teryl manages to bring it back to her with no fail.

Sometimes he’ll chant it fully like a prayer out of nowhere to the point Jasper knows it off by heart as well. Natalia sees this as an absolute win though, since she now has two potential people who can go out and order drinks for her.

She can tell if the slightest detail has been changed

“…did they run out of caramel sauce?” “No… why?” “Because there’s only two grams of caramel sauce in this Frappuccino. I asked for seven grams.”

“sweetie calculating the amount of grams from one sip alone is impossible.” 

People say Jasper would look sick with a tongue piercing. He declined.

He also has a resting bitch face, so when he glances at a toddler he unintentionally makes them cry :(

Clive likes to occasionally switch out his hair clips to more vibrant ones with different shapes (Shannon put them there)

His favourites include one that’s a blue cat shape, a red flower and an orange star :)

A callback to Shannon and Kay having gossip sessions, if Shannon mentions going back to one of her freaky exes just once Kay (alongside with Xani) immediately goes “NO.”

Jasper would sometimes wear those bow headbands (either gifted or borrowed by Natalia, can’t be bothered to purchase his own) just to keep his hair out out of his face while cooking

Lana was the one to teach Clive how to ride a bike. His older brother did try teaching him, but never got around to finishing it. So Lana taught Clive the rest

[granulesofsand]

hi i totally understand if this is way too personal to answer but did you know what youd been through from the start or did you find out later on? if its the second im not asking for details or anything but vaguely howd you figure it out?

🗝️🏷️ RAMCOA, torture mentions, suicide/sh, active trauma, unlucky therapy

Some of us have known for as long as it’s been happening. Some knew because they were involved. Others have learned recently. Still others do not know yet.

Most of our system is now aware of our RAMCOA history, if that is what you’re asking. There are many stories as to how this came to be.

During the trauma, most were split intentionally by abusers. This has happened for as long as we could be split, and is less frequent now that we avoid the group and our family.

The internal workings of our system rely on the fragments scattered between alters. The one who knows a cue is not the one who was tortured is not the one who completes the behavior is not the one who remembers doing it. Alters were elaborated, split again, assigned a place.

Some were designed to be front-facing alters. They might have no part in programming chains, cover a chain, or have an obscure placement in their chain. These are the alters who did not know, serving as an external presentation.

There are also those who were ‘organic’ splits; they were usually created like the intentional splits, but without forethought. If they went unnoticed, they remained unassigned.

It’s hard to say where the first leaks really started. The presentations were poking around where they shouldn’t have, always so curious about our past. The unassigned meddled invisibly from the outside, interfering or watching. Some of the programmed were higher ups who were wreaking a particular kind of havoc.

We did not all find out together. Everyone has their own story of what happened as they made the discovery. Some are still stuck in their trauma or are too conditioned to see right now.

The presentations got into social media when we were around 15. I don’t know if anyone had it before then, but this is when they noticed online communities of systems and RAMCOA survivors.

This is probably how so much of the system came to know if they didn’t before; they left traces externally and others found it. There were debates about whether this was possible, programs set off to create amnesia or doubt or shatter anyone stepping too close.

We spent a year of forgetting and remembering our own DID symptoms, but eventually failed to realize. Months later, a friend disclosed their own DID. Another few months of research. We went back to a place we had been trafficked out of and finally had a co-conscience switch.

We gathered a notebook with every possibility of what it could have been and took it back to the PHP we had attended before the trip. That therapist took the notebook for a week and gave it back, said to proceed as planned regardless.

That notebook is nearly out of pages now. We took it to our regular therapist, he sent us to a new therapist, they were gentle enough to get someone to admit it. That process took another few months.

This therapist was a trauma and unreality specialist, had worked with systems before us. More of us made their own disclosures about their pasts, eventually leading up to an acknowledgment of having been trafficked and programmed.

That was about a year ago. We have since been deprogramming. There were triggers throughout the time leading up to this, some resulting in suicide attempts and self-harm. We have not yet rid ourselves of callbacks, and are prone to reaccess.

We are somewhat able to dispel new programming, especially when trauma is old or not as awful as tortures used previously. It is difficult to remain socially active enough that we cannot be taken for the time needed to inflict worse.

Does that answer your question? We are willing to speak on some programs and troubles throughout this journey, but not so much as to put ourselves at risk. Feel free to clarify or ask something else.

[thecraftyfoxthewriterscorner]

Improving Your Writing Habits When Time Is the Limit

A few tips for getting some writing in when you don’t have a lot of time.

Hi Story Crafters,

This is a little late, but happy 2024! I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season, and spent some time relaxing and recharging the writing part of their brain.

I’d like to start off by thanking all of my current subscribers for their continued support of this newsletter—I couldn’t publish these posts without you! Please bear with me as I get back into the habit of sending out this newsletter more frequently and consistently.

As a way to get back into the swing of things (me with the newsletter, and maybe you, with your writing), this post will be a remix of a couple of my earliest posts:

5 Tips for Developing a Daily Writing Habit

Developing a Daily Writing Habit Recap: Taking a Break

Now for the remix:

I’ve found the tips below (a few of which may sound familiar) helpful with improving my own writing habits over the past few weeks. Hopefully, you find a couple of them useful too!

✨Try to write every day.

Try to write every day, even if it’s just 1 sentence or even just a fragment of one. Sometimes the hardest part of writing is just starting. As long as you have something written on the page, you can build on it; and it might feel easier to do so as the days go by!

✨Write ugly—or, you know, have fun!

Don’t worry too much about connecting sentences or even ideas together. Don’t worry if they’re in chronological order, if there are repetitive words, etc. Some days getting words on the page will feel like pulling teeth; on others, you’ll feel like everything is falling in place, and the writing will be fun. In any case, just set the goal of getting your thoughts and ideas down—or if you’re feeling up to it, a whole scene!

✨Try to have 1-2 days a week where you can sit down and write.

Try to have 1-2 days where you can sit down with the ideas, sentences, and/or fragments you wrote over the course of the week and try to connect them. This might take the form of writing a paragraph, a scene, or even an entire chapter. The goal is to weave everything into a cohesive story. Often I end up writing more and writing longer than planned, so I try to set aside a big chunk of time.

✨Try to read what you previously wrote before you start writing again.

Reading what you last wrote (which, hopefully, was the day before) can help rev up the writing part of your brain, making you excited to keep on writing and/or giving you ideas on how to keep writing. They’re pretty much the same thing, honestly. Try not to edit too much when you use this technique, unless doing so will help you continue writing the current narrative.

✨Find inspiration wherever possible.

This could mean watching movies or TV shows that are the same genre as your writing project, or share similar characters, plot devices, or other story elements. This might mean researching certain topics like historical events, investigative techniques, first aid techniques, fight scenes, etc. And it might also mean finding techniques you’d like to use in your own writing, like comedic dialogue, tragic narratives, certain plot twists etc.—though in this case, you’ll want to find examples of books that use those techniques effectively, so you can analyze how the authors pulled off those techniques.

That’s all I’ve got for now! I’ve also got some news for this spring…

❇️ Upcoming Event: #RevPit 2024

If you’ve got a finished manuscript and are planning to pursue traditional publishing, consider submitting your manuscript to this year’s #RevPit! Manuscripts of all genres, audiences, and lengths are welcome. I’ll be participating as a #RevPit editor this year alongside several other fantastic editors.

In the months leading up to #RevPit there will be events where you can meet the editors and even submit your query package for brief feedback (You can check out the most recent #10Queries event here.)

Check out the event schedule below:

Twitter/X: https://x.com/reviseresub/status/1747255382320533918?s=46&t=jIkStnxyKeaXgs-crC42IA

Please remember that all #RevPit events have been moved to Reddit! You can find the #RevPit event Reddit post here.

Until next time!

Best,

Leah

Visit the Crafty Fox Editing Services

Connect with me on social media!

Substack Post: https://thecraftyfoxwriterscorner.substack.com/p/improving-your-writing-habits-when

Interested in learning more about me, and the kind of energy I’ll bring to a writer-editor relationship? If you're a writer, consider subscribing to my free Substack newsletter (you can check out the archives, too). You'll get a free writing resource on relationship mapping, and a special offer when you subscribe!

You can also check out the archives.

Are you searching for an editor to work with on a completed (or soon-to-be-completed) manuscript? Get in touch! I’d love to hear about your project(s). I’m looking to work with authors of:

Fantasy

Dark Fantasy

Science Fiction

Horror

Send me an email!

[kogo-dogo]

4, 13, 27, 37, 40, 76 and/or 77? hi kogo i love you and your words

Hi, Stumpy. I love you and I didn't forget you. I was just juggling Life, and also Got Very Distracted By Neopets.

04. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas? - Everywhere. A lot of my fanfics come about because of stupid hypotheticals while playing games, which usually leads to hours of me figuring out tiny details until I start getting upset that nobody acknowledges those tiny details. As for my original work, I... look. I have written horror stories about stuffed dogs I found at vendor malls. I have a rough start inspired by a pipe I saw in the distance on the way to work from my old apartment. I honest-to-god saw an In Memoriam picture at work that was badly compressed, had an errant thought of, "I didn't realize it was so jpeg," and then freaked myself out because what if it wasn't Jpeggy before? Do you understand how insane I am?

13. What’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow? - Read your shit out loud before you post it. You will catch so many typos and weird-ass problems with your flow if you just say it out loud. It's so easy to graze over things with your eyes. Significantly harder when you realize you can't say it easily, or that you randomly have to speak a sentence fragment you missed.

27. What is your most and least favorite part of writing? - Favorite? The satisfaction when you finish and you can pat yourself on the back for not giving up. Also: Character Creation. Least favorite is that my brain sometimes forgets how to words correctly, and so I'm looking at my old shit and crying because I USED TO BE SO GOOD (I was not).

37. How do you choose where to end a chapter? - Arbitrarily. A lot of the time, the end of a chapter falls when I realize that I am running the risk of making the world's most convoluted, longest chapter and that it would be easier to stop and move to the next instead of trying to force Plot Point Six into it.

40. If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see? - My Morrowind fic. Any of it. I know most people who follow me are here for HRV, but my Morrowind work is my pride and joy. More people need to appreciate my sad, wet khajiit.

77. Do you have a favorite scene you’ve written from [Fanfic Name] story/chapter?  - One in my Morrowind fic I haven't written yet. I shan't divulge.

[dark-ethereal-visions]

Short Story Excerpt: Into the Realm of the Lunatic

I’ve always been fascinated by the mind’s ability to conceal things we have done from our own conscious selves. That must be especially frightening for a psychologist or therapist to experience in their own minds. They must have to live with that thought each time they have a session with a patient suffering from a personality disorder.

But for the grace of God, there go I - John  Bradford, 1533

Into the Realm of the Lunatic takes that idea a step further by forcing Dr. Shauna Adams to confront her personal demons as she treats a patient with real malevolent tendencies. There’s a link between Shauna and her patient and it’s one she can uncover only by entering Into the Realm of the Lunatic.

     Blackness, everywhere she sent her gaze. The stale air and absence of noise suggested she stood indoors, although she could see nothing. It seemed like it had been far too long to be lost within this dark void. It caused her to wonder if the subconscious mind existed within a moment; a metaphysical fragment unreachable by human experience. Failure wasn’t acceptable, so she began walking, unsure of her direction or what she might encounter.

     A few moments later, a white illumination appeared before her. It first appeared to be dim and growing brighter, but it was soon revealed to have been far away and growing nearer. Beneath the spotlight, shrouded beneath its glowing aura, she saw two lovers mating upon a single mattress. Curiosity begging her closer, she saw that the mattress was old and worn with its springs threatening to burst through the thin fabric. The beige mattress was stained in several spots with dried blood. The lovers, female, were more vivid and defined than one would expect to find in a memory, but their faces were hidden from view by a shadow that seemed to come from nowhere.

     Did Calvin Britton have some sort of sexual identity crisis?

     “Does Calvin Britton have some sort of sexual identity crisis,” the lesbians mocked.

     The loud voices shattering the silence startled her. Stumbling backwards, she could only gawk in disbelief. The more frightened she appeared, the louder those lovers laughed. They pointed fingers at her, accusingly, much like those grade school bullies from her childhood. She felt like the misfit fighting back tears as the privileged children ganged up on her. It didn’t make any sense to feel this way. None of it was really happening, she reminded herself. Yet, as irrational as it was, she found herself wanting to run. She would have fled. She would’ve run fast and hard…if she’d had any place to go. Her desperation grew more hopeless and the lovers’ taunting more malicious as the moments passed. She searched the blackness, instinctively needing to flee. The laughter, mocking her very existence, threatened to burst her eardrums. It was meant to hurt…and it did. She just had to go, but to where?

     “Run, you fool! You’ll get no answers from us.”

     Just then, as if responding to a command from the lovers, a doorway revealed itself far beyond them. She didn’t care that it stood so far away, just as she didn’t care where it might lead. It would take her away from the sadistic lovers and that was all that mattered. She ran to the yellow light beyond the door as though it was a beacon calling her to safety. That beacon grew brighter with each stride until it was almost blinding. No matter how fast she ran, that doorway and the iridescent glow beyond it seemed to remain just as far away. It was as though she’d unwittingly hopped aboard an unseen treadmill. She could actually feel her heart pounding in this dream-like state; her breath short and her legs rubbery. It seemed like she’d been running for miles, fruitlessly trying to reach a destination forever just out of her grasp. Finally, throwing herself forward in one desperate thrust, she bounded herself through the doorway like an athlete crossing the finish line.

Experience all nine stories in Whispers From Hell: An Anthology of Horror & the Supernatural.

Follow these links to get your ebook or paperback copy:

Amazon Paperback

Amazon Kindle

Barnes & Noble Nook

[teenageread]

Review: Twenty Years Later

Synopsis:

Hiding her own dark past in plain sight, a TV reporter is determined to uncover the truth behind a gruesome murder decades after the investigation was abandoned. But TWENTY YEARS LATER, to understand the present, you need to listen to the past…

Avery Mason, host of American Events, knows the subjects that grab a TV audience’s attention. Her latest story—a murder mystery laced with kinky sex, tragedy, and betrayal—is guaranteed to be ratings gold. New DNA technology has allowed the New York medical examiner’s office to make its first successful identification of a 9/11 victim in years. The twist: the victim, Victoria Ford, had been accused of the gruesome murder of her married lover. In a chilling last phone call to her sister, Victoria begged her to prove her innocence.

Emma Kind has waited twenty years to put her sister to rest, but closure won’t be complete until she can clear Victoria’s name. Alone she’s had no luck, but she’s convinced that Avery’s connections and fame will help. Avery, hoping to negotiate a more lucrative network contract, goes into investigative overdrive. Victoria had been having an affair with a successful novelist, found hanging from the balcony of his Catskills mansion. The rope, the bedroom, and the entire crime scene was covered in Victoria’s DNA.

But the twisted puzzle of Victoria’s private life just the beginning. And what Avery doesn't realize is that there are other players in the game who are interested in Avery’s own secret past—one she has kept hidden from both the network executives and her television audience. A secret she thought was dead and buried . . .

Plot:

Avery Mason knows she is the hottest TV host on air. With the death of her predecessor, Avery took over American Events, and ratings have skyrocketed. Sure it was because she was doing unusual stunts, but still, she was doing great and the network was trying to lowball her into a terrible contract. Telling her lawyer to fix it, Avery set off to New York, her childhood home to scope out a story about a person recently identified from bone fragments from the Twin Towers, almost twenty years after the fall. Talking to the sister, the only living kin of the victim, Avery finds herself more than just a story for American Events, but a mystery. The victim, Victoria Ford, was at the Twin Towers on the day of 9/11 because she was meeting with her attorney for her murder trial that was coming up. Victoria was charged with the murder of famous author Cameron Young, whom she had a kinky affair with that ended with a sloppy murder and charges against Victoria. Yet when 9/11 happened, the world was in terror, and cases like Victoria’s where both the defendant and accused are dead just fell away. Promising to bring some sort of justice for Victoria, Avery sets off to show the world who Victoria Ford was, and to bring up the question: did Victoria really kill Cameron? To do that, Avery contacts the lead detective on the case, ex-FBI agent Walt Jenkins. Walt who was so far away from NYC and her troubles, as he was enjoying his time in Jamaica. After surviving what should have been a deadly shot, he took an early retirement and moved to Jamaica, and has spent the past three years drinking rum and wondering how he got to this point in life. When the FBI calls up and tells him about Avery’s investigation into the Victoria Ford case, they have a secondary motive to make Walt come back to New York. As Avery was not who she claimed to be, the FBI wanted Walt to get close to her and discover her secret past. With Avery looking into Victoria, and Walt looking into Avery, secrets, and lies from the past twenty years come to the surface, and as the world begins to commemorate the horrific event of 9/11 and mourn all those who died.

Thoughts:

Charlie Donlea takes us on a mystery thriller of a ride, as Avery and Walt work together to figure out what happened twenty years ago, and if Victoria really did kill Cameron, or if she was framed. Switching between the third person point of view of Avery and Walt, you got to see both sides of the investigation for Victoria, Walt’s investigation of Avery, and Avery's looking into her own past. Now this book is hard to get into at first, as Donlea does a long lead-up with Victoria entering the Twin Towers on September 11, 2001 and the meeting she had, before skipping twenty years into the future with Avery in LA hosting American Events. Dividing the book into several parts, Donlea also includes the dates of each chapter and their locations as the story bumps around from California, New York, Jamaica, and more. This does not add anything to the story, but it also does not take anything away, besides Donlea wanting to show off their timeline for the story. Individually Walt and Avery were good characters, both dedicated to the mystery, and willing to do what it takes, and each had secrets that Donlea slowly revealed throughout the story. As a couple? The romance element I could not get, as Donlea made them have zero connection outside the case besides sharing dark secrets and how Avery notices the little things about Walt. Thankfully this novel was classed as a mystery and not a romance, as where Walt and Avery did not make sense as a couple, Donlea did not make that a focus point, instead, this novel is the majority of the Victoria Ford case. Now that was well done, with kink-shaming, media coverage, to the little bits that do not make sense that Avery and Walt picked up along the way. Truly made me keep reading to see if Victoria was actually the killer, as the romance, Avery’s past, and Walt’s past were not cutting it. It just felt like Donlea was trying to do too much, and with the final chapters explaining the truth of what has been happening, it just made the story more of a letdown than needed to be. Sure finding out what was happening with Avery was nice, and the truth about what Victoria did or did not do was explained in the epilogue, just felt like it ruined what the story was building. Overall, the story was very mild, with a wild thriller with a bad ending, a lot of side drama, and an unneeded romance. This novel does not really commemorate 9/11 but does use the event as a backbone for this thrilling tale.

Read more reviews: Goodreads

Buy the book: Amazon

[pinknightsinmymind]

【 mascara - ellie williams 】

ellie williams x fem!reader

wc: 3.3k

content: angst, hurt-comfort, wife!reader, arguing, swearing, SPOILERS FOR TLOU2, mentions of death and grieving

summary: ellie returns from santa barabra, but she's not the same. you reminisce on how she used to be and where this all started in order to understand what got her to this point.

a/n: i was inspired by "mascara" by deftones to write this bc of the angstiness and moodiness i love angst its so delicious i want to eventually turn this into a full length fic that really fleshes out the whole story so lmk in the replies if you want to be on the taglist for that <333

Ellie had started to change the moment Joel passed away; there was no question about it. However, even after that shattering blow to the girl’s life, it didn’t completely destroy her. Not yet, at least. Joel’s death had fragmented her into pieces, but you could still see those pieces within her. Whenever you looked into those green eyes of hers, you saw her, and you knew she was still there. On the way to Seattle you could catch those glimpses of her every time you looked at her, and when your hands wrapped around her waist, the horse jostling you two as you journeyed, you felt her there. You felt Ellie. During and after Seattle, it was as if that small fragment of her that was left fractured in half. She had lost yet another piece of herself, and it was as if she had shrunk in size. Despite noticing this change, she was still your Ellie, and you’d do anything for her. You knew she was grieving, that she was going through a hard time, but you still did your best to comfort her.

You thought the distance and time would help, but the reality haunted her even in her sleep. Sometimes she had episodes and you’d find her screaming. It was hard to watch her go through this, but you still did everything you could for her. You were her wife, after all, and that’s what you were there for. Ellie had asked you to be her wife after things had calmed down from the Seattle trip. It had been at least a few weeks before she asked, and when she did you took it as a sign that maybe things would change for the better. She said that’s what she wanted. She wanted to change, to move forward, and for a while it seemed like they did. Yet the past continued to haunt her, and you saw the light in her eyes dim more and more.

The turning point was when Tommy meddled in your lives and told you both he had found Abby. You were angry with him for doing that, for disturbing your home, and for putting those thoughts in Ellie’s head again—but once it was done there was no undoing it. Once the cogs started turning you couldn’t stop them. Ellie was stubborn, and no amount of pleading was going to change her mind. She was just like her father. You stayed up late with her that night in an attempt to talk about it.

“Please, just think about this," you pleaded with her. “I need you. I need you here. With me. Don't do this again. We barely made it back last time.”

“And what about Joel? So she just gets to live and he doesn't?"

“Ellie, I miss Joel, too. I know how much he meant to you, but would he really want this? For you to abandon everything for her?”

“He'd want me… to finish what I started.”

“Goddammit, Ellie.” You didn’t know if it was the physical or mental exhaustion, but you were so tired. "Baby, please. Let's just go to bed." Ellie closed her eyes and let out a sigh. She nodded her head and grabbed your hand, leading you to your shared bedroom.

“Let's go to sleep, love,” she said quietly. A wave of relief washed over you as the two of you settled back into bed, her warmth comforting you as you slept. But that only lasted a few hours, because you woke up cold that next morning. You looked everywhere around the house, only to realize that she really had left anyway in the middle of the night.

At first you were angry. She lied to you and left you in the farm house all alone, even after the two of you talked it out. You felt betrayed. The two of you were supposed to be a married couple who worked together as a team, but it seemed she completely disregarded that. Your anger festered for a few hours until it was completely washed away by something else. Once the anger disappeared, it was replaced by fear and sadness. Ellie may have been tough, but she’d be completely on her own. Who knew when she’d come back, if ever, which is what scared you even more. You began to weep after that, the tears cleaning away whatever resentment had been growing initially.

After Santa Barbara is when you felt Ellie change completely. It was like the final piece of her left inside finally disintegrated and disappeared like dust on the wind. It seemed as if she lost herself completely in her mission and fell apart at the seams.

You stared in horror as you saw her coming up the steps. Her messily chopped hair was pasted to her forehead with sweat and Lord knows what else. The tank top she wore was dirty with grime and dried blood. She clutched her side and she walked slowly with a limp. The blood on her clothes seemed old because the only thing coating her skin was sweat and the occasional dirt. What happened out there? you thought. As much as you wanted to scold her, to cuss her out, to be angry with her, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Instead you rushed towards her and pulled her in. She was alive, and she had come back to you at last. She awkwardly wrapped her arms around you, but it felt almost reluctant as she grasped you weakly. You led her inside as fast as you could while she stayed silent. You questioned her as soon as the door slammed shut.

“Where are you hurt?”

“Everywhere,” she said. She didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood right now. You held her hands in yours and inspected her arms, finding a new bite on her and old cuts that were barely starting to heal. You eyed the tattoo of hers you knew so well, the one you’d trace with your hands whenever she held you. It was then that you noticed the two missing fingers on her left hand. How will she play her guitar? you thought. She just stood there as you looked at the old blood and dirt on her body, but the real horror was her side. She winced as your hands trailed down to the darkly stained side of her shirt. She lifted up her top and you saw the dirty bandages wrapped around what seemed to be a large wound.

“Do you want to take a shower?” you asked her. “Then I can take care of these?” She nodded. She walked away from you as if she was in a trance to the washroom. You started to pace around the house when you heard the water start to run. You didn't know what to say to her or what she was feeling. In fact, you couldn't read her at all, not anymore.

Ellie entered the downstairs area of the house in fresh clothes as soon as her shower ended. You hadn’t seen her around the house in months, and it felt almost foreign. It felt strange, almost like she was a guest. She took a seat at the dining table expectantly in front of the first aid kit you had taken out. You slid out one of the chairs and sat in front of her before beginning your work. You pulled up the green cotton shirt she wore and immediately sanitized the wound. Ellie grit her teeth and let out small hissing sounds here and there, but other than that she remained completely silent. Once you were done cleaning the wound you applied ointment and fresh gauze. The silence was killing you. This had been the girl you could talk to for hours about anything, who rattled off corny jokes, who would tell you all about space and her comic books. You didn’t know this quiet woman before you.

“I’m… glad you’re back,” you said in an attempt to fill the silence.

“You are?” she whispered. Her surprise caught you off guard and made your heart swell in pain.

“Of course I am.”

“I thought you’d be angry with me.”

“I was at first, but you getting home safe was more important to me.”

“You should hate me,” she said sadly. “You shouldn’t be this patient. I’m a piece of shit.”

“Don’t say that.” You finished wrapping up the bandages and started to clean up your supplies from the table. The silence hung in the air again, and you both knew why. The elephant in the room—the unanswered question: did she do it? After you finished cleaning the table you looked into those green eyes that you used to know so well. What happened to the light that used to be inside them? They used to feel like the sunlight that drifted into the forest, but now it was as if the sun had set and you traveled through a dark forest all alone.

“What are you thinking?” she asked. She was still as perceptive as always.

“Did—did you go through with it?” You fidgeted with your fingers nervously. You looked at her, and it was as if dark clouds gathered in her eyes.

“No.” You didn’t know why you were shocked, but you were. She hadn’t gone through with it? Why? What had happened in Santa Barbara? Yet, even despite all your shock, you don’t know what you would’ve thought if she did go through with it. “Can we go to sleep?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.” The two of you walked to your old bedroom awkwardly, but when you felt her next to you in bed, it was as if it all melted away. She pulled you in close to her, her arms wrapped tightly around your waist as she breathed in the scent of your clothes. She had missed this—missed you—but she didn’t know how to say that. She hoped you could tell by the way she held you.

Sleeping next to Ellie again brought two fears forward for you: one, that she’d wake up and leave again, and two, how bad her night terrors would be. Ellie stirred a few times in her sleep, speaking and moving around a bit, but no screaming. Your other fear didn’t come true, either, because when you woke up in the morning she was still holding you.

Ellie was a vision when you first laid eyes on her, and as much as she still is, she's different now. Something broken and dark has settled within her, and you don’t know what to do about it. The first few days she’s back home are awkward and quiet. You only spoke to each other when you needed to as the silence made itself the newest member of your family. While you stayed inside the house reading, cleaning every now and then, sleeping to pass the hours, Ellie stayed outside. She tinkered with things that needed fixing around the house, took care of the animals, watered the plants, anything to not be in the house. She would hardly look at you, and the only time she touched you was when she held you to go to sleep. It was like you didn’t exist. In some way you found that to be more painful than having to deal with her absence while she was away. You didn’t know what to do. You felt so hopeless and alone despite having Ellie back. She made you feel like an unwanted guest. She wouldn’t say anything about what happened either. The mystery of those events haunted you. You started having nightmares of all the things that could’ve possibly happened to her, each one more frightening than the next. However, what you wanted to know more than anything, was why she didn’t go through with it. She had made avenging Joel her life mission, and then she discarded it? Why? It’s not that you were disappointed and felt she needed to exact her revenge, you were just confused.

That night you had gone to bed earlier than usual as you stared up at the ceiling lost in thought. You heard her footsteps on the creaking floor before she entered the room, the covers rustling as she climbed in them and tried to pull you close. You pushed her hands away and turned around to face the other direction which seemed to confuse her.

“What’s wrong?” she said.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” you asked. “You won’t even look at me, and this is the only time you touch me. It makes me feel like a pathetic lost puppy just waiting for you.”

“Look, I’m just trying to sort through my thoughts.”

“And that justifies you ignoring me?”

“I’m going through a tough time right now,” she said defensively. You sat up in bed and faced the wall, staring at the chipping paint. You couldn’t believe her right now.

“You’re going through a tough time, Ellie? Really? You’re so fucking full of it.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so goddamn needy. What are you going through, [Y/N]? Huh? Tell me. What is it that’s going on in your perfect little life that’s so bad?” You whipped your head around to look at her.

“You left me in the middle of the night! You left without a goddamn word to hunt down Abby in another state for months. I never knew if I was gonna see you again while I was stuck here on the farm all alone.” You were so angry with her right now. You tried to be understanding, you tried to be there for her, but you could only do so much for a person who didn’t want to accept your kindness.

“That’s your fucking problem, [Y/N],” she spat venmously. You saw her eyebrows furrowed together, and that’s how you knew she was really angry.

“Yeah? What is it? Tell me since you know every-fucking-thing.”

“You are just a stupid lost puppy. You’re not as smart as you think you are and you have no backbone. If you were smart you would’ve left me the moment I disappeared.” You knew she was just saying that to hurt you and get under your skin. She used to do that in the past. This was her way of pushing you away: her favorite defense mechanism.

“I stayed because I love you, Ellie. I couldn’t just leave.”

“That’s your other problem,” she said. “Loving me is another mistake you made along with marrying me.”

“How could you say that?” you asked her. “I just want to be there for you but you don’t make it easy.”

“Because I don’t deserve your kindness. I don’t deserve any of it. Nothing. I’m a disgusting, awful human being and I have no place to expect anything from the world or you.”

“We’ve all done terrible things, Ellie.” You shook your head as you stared at her. Her cheeks were flushed from her rage, but more than anything she looked tired. It hurts you to see her like this. Who was she? Where was the girl you used to know? The reality of it all made you tear up.

“Not you,” she said. “You’re nothing like me. I don’t want to ruin you with how—how dirty my hands are.”

“You won’t.”

“You weren’t there. I don’t know who I was in Santa Barbara; Seattle was just the tip of the iceberg.”

“So why don’t you enlighten me then?” You were tired of the back and forth with her. You just wanted answers, and she slowly provided them. She told you about the Rattlers, about Abby, the fight, how she lost her fingers, all of it. When she got to telling you about the fight, that’s when she broke down.

“And I saw her there, carrying that kid, and she—she looked just like Joel. Goddammit, she looked just like him. All I could think about was how she probably looked the way Joel did when he protected me.” She wiped the tears away from her eyes, but they kept streaming down her cheeks. “And if I killed her? That fucking kid would just come after me. It would be endless.” She broke down into sobs, and it was then that you had enough. You scooted over and pulled her into your arms. She cried into your shoulder as you moved your hands through her hair.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” you said to her. “It’s okay. You did the right thing.”

“I know,” she sobbed. “I know. It’s what Joel would’ve wanted me to do. I miss him. I miss my dad.” She continued sobbing, her tears soaking up your shirt.

“I know, baby.”

“I just don’t want to lose you like everyone else. I just love you so much.”

“I know, honey, I love you, too.”

“Please tell me you forgive me. I want things to be the way they were before. I want to be the person you used to know. I know I’ve been so horrible.”

“I forgive you. I always do.”

“Marrying you was the best thing I ever did. I’m sorry I said those things.”

“You’ve always done that sort of thing as a defense mechanism. I saw through you, but you still pissed me off. You’re so hard headed, I bet you’re half-rock.”

“Shut up,” she laughed. “What would I do without you?”

“Be so hard-headed that you turn into an actual rock.”

“I’m gonna beat your ass.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m gonna get you some water, then we’re gonna go to sleep, okay?” You felt her nod her head against your shoulder before pulling away so you could get her water. You took a look at her face and saw how red and puffy her eyes were, but she was still so beautiful. You leaned in and placed a small kiss on her cheek. She closed her eyes and accepted the gesture before opening them as you pulled away. You went down the stairs carefully to the kitchen, grabbing the nearest glass and filling it with water. When you returned to the room you found her still sitting on the bed waiting for you. You handed her the glass, and she accepted it willingly. You slid into bed beside her and rested your head on her shoulder. This time she gave you a kiss on the top of your head.

“Come here,” she said, placing the glass on her bedside table. “I’ve missed you so much.” She pulled you into her arms quickly and ran her hands all over your body. “I love you. Always. I’m so sorry for the mean things I said. You’re so patient with me. I don’t know if I even deserve that.”

“I think you do.”

“I’m tired,” she said, then pulled you to lay down next to her.

“Hey!” you said in surprise. She held you so close like she never wanted to let you go. You shifted to try and lay down in a more comfortable position, but she just squeezed you even tighter.

“No. Don’t move. Just lay with me.”

“At least let me lay down comfortably.”

“Fine,” she said. She let you out of her arms just long enough to get comfortable before pulling you back in again. “Do you remember that night we had that dance in Jackson?” she asked.

“I do. How could I forget?” you replied. Your head may have been buried in her chest, listening to her steady heartbeat, but you could tell she was smiling.

“I thought about that night whenever I needed strength. It kept me going. It’s one of my best memories, and in that moment I knew I was gonna marry you one day.”

“You’re being quite romantic.”

“Happy wife, happy life,” she said. You laughed at that.

“Well, your wife wants to go to sleep now, so good night.”

“Good night,” she whispered, petting your hair to lull you to sleep. That night you slept better than you had in months.

[yandere-wishes]

A Story Told In Maybes  {Part #1}

🗡️Yandere! Enma Yuuken x reader

🗡️Summary: Enma Yuuken lives on the fine line between "Hero" and "Villain" but his story will never end in a "happily ever after" or a "tragically ever after" it will only end in Maybe...

🗡 Edited by the amazing @tealyjade-libran

🗡️ Alternative title: How many times can Genie use "Damn" in a story...

Maybe in some other world, they could have been lovers

Imagine that...

picture it as vividly as a fresh stab wound to your heart. Sketch the vision of a red waterfall carrying away your life. 

Now picture two people. A young man and woman, sitting on a park bench, holding hands and laughing, inching closer and closer. 

Imagine love, happiness, tranquility...

But those things only exist in fairy tales. And his life was most certainly not a fairy tale. 

They were foreigners, outsiders, aliens. Banished into a strange land were twisted fairy tales, roamed the earth. Where magic and mischief came as naturally to the inhabitants as breathing. Where nothing mattered, because nothing was. Everything is and thus it isn't. Nothing made sense, and sometimes, in some rare moments of stolen repose, Enma Yuuken was scared that nothing would ever make sense again. 

All of it, every microscopic thing about this 'new world' was wrong, abnormal, twisted. 

Everything except his traveling companion. Another lost soul as disjointed and out of place as he was. Another ghost trying to survive in this matrix of a so-called reality. 

There was no shock initially, no surprise in not being the only normal creature to be transported to this bizarre world. Enma knew full well that he wasn't special in any way. Another foreigner being here was one of the few things that actually made sense. 

But as the old expression goes, everything comes at a price. 

Someone else just like him being here, being stuck in this nightmare, made sense. Yet the price of logic was a thread of hysteria that had woven itself deep within his battered heart. A maddening sense that gripped his lungs, robbing them of breath. That picked off pieces from his tattered mind, replacing them with clear cutout thoughts of her. It was always only her.

His companion in this broken world just had to be you. A frail, naïve little girl with no sense about her. Some pretty-girl protagonist straight out of the pages of Shojo Beats. The kind of girl who finds her happily ever after no matter where the hell she is. 

Yet he did not have that luxury, his life was dictated by a series of maybes and could bes. He was a secondary character at best, a background shadow at worst. With no purpose other than smiling and waving. And listening to the protagonist weep about their love-driven woes.

Some days, when the dreary bell chimed for the last time, when the students marched back to the solitude of their dorms, Enma would wander around the halls, squirming in his own misery. Pondering why, oh why of all the people, in all the towns, in all the worlds, did you have to be the one to wind up in this grim land along with him. 

Why fate always had to be so cruel, so domineering, thinking it knew better than the people whose miserable lives it toyed with. He wanted to be your lover, your prince, yours. But what would a guy, who doesn’t even belong in this backward world, have to offer some heroine-type sweetheart? 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

The Ramshackle’s flickering porch light glows in the distance. Like a dying star beckoning him to a destroyed paradise. He knows what's waiting for him behind the worn door. He knows you'll be there standing by the cracked dinner table, laying out days-old sandwiches for dinner, while Grimm rangles with an expired can of tuna. He knows you'll smile with tears in your doe-like eyes as you retell the fables of your endeavors. Telling him in great detail how the so-called king of beasts overpowered you in the school garden. How the King of poisons stole yet another kiss. The tales go on and on. Never-ending, never stopping, never giving him the chance to scavenge the fragments of his shattered heart.

You play your role so damn well. You know how to be the damsel in distress, the poor thing in need of saving. It's repulsive, disgusting...but only because he doesn't know how to be the hero that you need. 

If he was being honest -something he rarely did nowadays- Those "prefects" were the root of all his problems. They were the evil that made this dark world an endless horror. They'd been the ones to drive him into the "caring older brother" role. They had twisted his hand, leading him to the role of the "side-hero" like a lamb to the slaughter. Made him into a prince charming in a world that ate princes alive and spat them out once more. 

They had sealed his fate with a few insults and loaded threats. With just a few longing stares overflowing with lust and envy. They were villains, in a world that celebrated sinners. A world that cheered when the dragon steals the princess and rejoices when the evil king sits upon his skeleton throne. They were villains in every dreadful sense of the damn word. 

It's hard to be in love when all odds are against you. 

When your fate binds you into one role with no way out.

Like a rabbit hole made of quicksand. It dragged him deeper and deeper into intimate madness.

Maybe in some fair world, those leeching villains could keep their greedy blood-drenched hands off of you.

Maybe in a world where the sun never dies, you could bring yourself to love him.

Maybe he could have been the love interest, maybe, maybe, maybe.

It's always only MAYBE!

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

"Welcome home Nii-san," 

It's a sweet greeting that ties his guts into ribbons. His hands grow damp as his heavy eyes stare into yours. His lips curl into a painted smile, shielding you from the pain that's clawing in his stomach.

"Hi..(Y/n)"

His voice cracks and croaks like a dying frog. His lips feel abnormally dry and his eyes sting as if they've been pierced by diamond daggers. His steps are heavy as he plops down in his seat. The weight of his worries pulled him down harder than gravity ever could. He watches you through tried, restless orbs. Watches as you waltz over to your seat and sit down with the half grace of some future queen to be. It's bitter, dreadful, leaving a sickly toxin-like taste in his mouth. The mere thought that someday one of those, sinners, will take your hand and drag you to some kingdom far far away makes Enma want to claw his brain out with his bare nails. 

Enma's focus shifts over from his traveling companion to the silver-coated fireball licking his paws. Grimm's teal eyes scan him nervously before he offers a nervous smile, a rarity for the narcissistic cat. He's usually so talkative, so boasting, there was never a moment of tranquility with that cat around...

It takes a moment. A steel coated moment before the gears in Enma's head begin to turn. Before he can place his finger on the heavy abnormality weighing down the atmosphere. His nerves jolt to life, leaving a freezing sweat behind their trail. The room is spinning like a ballroom floor. Something's off, something big and obvious and hidden and...

Maybe...

"So..."

It's your sweet voice that breaks the tension creeping into the air. Melodic and luscious just like the sensation of a blissful dream. The room freezes in its tracks. The heavy atmosphere melts away like a cube of ice. Normality has one foot through the door. Behind it, hope and tranquility peek their heads through the tiny gap.

 Maybe just maybe everything is alright. Maybe it's just him, his stress and anxiety are starting to play cruel jokes on his wonder mind. Maybe he's just going mad. Yeah, that's the sanest conclusion to draw from all this. 

Enma cranes his neck to the side to get a better view of your face. Distress is scribbled all over your skin, like pristine razor cuts. You shift around in your seat, clawing at your uniform skirt as if the midnight black fabric is cutting off your circulation. Your fingers nudge the entrance to your pocket fiddling with something he can't quite make out. 

His voice is low, shaky, as he replies. The unusualness of the situation has him on edge. Nervous to the bitter bone. Maybe he was wrong, maybe his nerves were right to be wary of whatever this was. This uncertainty permeated the air-tight room. 

"What is it?" 

Slowly you drag out a white envelope flooded seven times over from your pocket. You stretch out your hand placing it in between his fingers. Enma throws a passive look at the note, his nose wrinkled up at the familiar scent that pervaded from the paper. 

"What's this?" 

It was rhetorical, asked out of dull, morbid courtesy. This time he didn't bother looking at you, in fear of seeing you look -lord forbids- gleeful. 

"A love letter, Grimm found it in our locker after class." 

There was a pause, lengthy, nerve-wracking, heart wrenching. Yuuken could hear the way your breath hitched in your throat, he could almost feel the excitement radiate off your body. 

"Can you believe it Nii-san? Someone actually left me a love letter!"

It hurt it really did, this time his heart didn't shatter. It simply broke, in two or three or maybe four. Who knows, who cares.  They had escalated from simple harassment and unsightly displays of public affection to leaving you love letters. How ungodly, how absurd, how brave...

He laments, eyes tracing over the fog of his breath as it wafts through the musty room. He wants to rip that damned piece of paper, shred it into millions so the words become ineligible, so you'll never read those horrible words again. So you'll forget that some damn fool other than him can actually love you. But he doesn't, he has too much self restraint and too much respect for his dear "little sister" to actually do it. 

His arm stretches over the table, skin illuminated by the dying candle on the center. He places the letter back safely in between your fingers. His eyes meet yours for only the second time that night. He takes in your face, Committing every piece of it to his miserable memory. The heartily glow in your crystal eyes, the faint schoolgirl smile dancing across your lips, the rose blush kissing your cheeks, the way the candle illuminates your skin, wrapping in a sparkling glow like the princess from those tales of old. You're mesmerizing in every way, it would be reasonable for other men to notice your elegance. No wonder those "prefects" were drawn to you so naturally like moths to a golden flame. 

"Who sent it?" 

His voice comes out like a block of ice, shielding away any and all his stray emotions. He doesn't want to know how doleful he is, he just can't have you taking pity on him. 

Your smile fades ever so slightly, your brows draw closer. Confusion is etched on your face. You haven't got a clue. 

"Well...I'm not sure, but they did say to meet them at the school gates when the clock chimes twelve."

Oh, joy, another fairy tale reference. It's comedic how fairy tales have begun to dictate his life. Everywhere he turns there's a grim tale awaiting him. Yuuken spares a quick glance at the crooked clock hanging by a loose thread. It’s a minute to midnight. 

"I should come with you" 

It's not a request but you take it as so. 

"No need to bother, I'll take Grimm, he could use the walk. He's starting to bulk up a bit"

"HEY! The great Grimm-Sama doesn't "Bulk up" He only gets more powerful!" 

Before the older male can protest, you're already halfway out the door. Grimm scurrying to follow you on all fours like a pesky rat. The door slams on your way out, leaving Yuuken alone with his morbid screeching thoughts. 

There goes the only good thing in his life. Into the arms of another. 

For a second he contemplates leaving you to fate, after all, who's he to disobey fate, go against whoever orchestrates this universe. But it's only a second, short lived and quickly died. 

Maybe he's a hero.

Maybe he's a Prince Charming.

Maybe he's a villain.

Maybe he's just some honorary older brother looking out for his kid sister.

Maybe, just maybe, he's your future lover;

and he'll be damned if he lets you slip out of hands. 

Enma's quick to grab his old practice blade from the overstuffed closet. It's not much, but it's all he has from the normal world, from his world. 

The door grates for the last time that night as he steps out into the cold midnight air. The stars blink in some sort of secret tongue, either warning him or encouraging him, he doesn't know. Nor does he truly care, for Enma Yuuken is done letting life and fate and villains decree his meaningless life. Here and now that's where he'll make his stand, he'll save you. Kiss you. Love you. Marry you. You, You, YOU

But there's still one nagging thought that screams inside his head as he dashes for the school gates. This world worships villains, prays at their feet, and hands them death and destruction on golden plates. And he's no villains, he's some sort of upside-down, in-between. Rotting alone in the border between Hero and Villain. By law of society, he's a reject, a useless foreigner, an alien, an outsider. 

and MAYBE he's already too late...

Who wrote the love letter? Was it the head of the savanaclaw dorm or maybe the head of the heartslabyul dorm ? Maybe it’s the ever mysterious  Tsunotarou...