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anhonest-puck · 5 months ago

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more anderperry because i miss them (under the cut, 630 words) (also in an au where lettermans are a thing and not achievement pins or whatever 😭)

about a week or so after neil died, his mom had come up to welton to help todd clean out his stuff. over the few hours she was there, the two had bonded quite well. todd sharing his story with her (this being a big feat for him, he’d never been good at telling people about his childhood). around the end, they had finally come to his things that he’d used or worn the most often. some things in the pile were his favorite shoes, a childhood plushie that he insisted that he couldn’t sleep without, and his wallet. also in the pile of things that laid on neil’s old bed was his tattered, worn (but well loved) letterman. todd loved neil’s letterman, nagging neil to get to wear it every chance he got.

“neil i’m cold, can i borrow it one more time?” of course, neil would always cave and say yes, but todd savored every moment with his jacket on. to him, it was a promise. a promise of “i’ll be with you no matter what. even when i’m not there physically, i’m there; supporting you every step of the path you take.” it was like a long hug from neil. he enjoyed every minute with it on, basking in its warmth and comfort. it smelled like home. because to him, neil was home.

“so what would you like to do with it?” mrs perry muttered. she held it up. there in his right pocket, where he’d always put his hand, was a small slip of paper. she took it out gently and read the front of the slip out loud: “to: toddy” oh god.

“i think this is for you then?” she sighed, handing the note and the jacket over to a rather speechless todd. he timidly opened the note. the writing was scribbled, but somehow the scribbled letters felt like home. home, home, home.

“toddy,

i know that this whole situation seems like absolute shit. i’m sorry. i’d understand it if you’d never forgive me; however, i know how much you loved my jacket (i noticed, you weren’t slick). so as my final parting gift, i wanted to give this to you. i hope this letter doesn’t go unnoticed, and you toss my jacket under the bed, but if you read this: know that i love you. nothing will ever change that. i’ll miss you. stay safe for me, alright toddy bear?

from, neil.

dated: december 4th, 1959.”

from that moment todd knew that he had planned his death ahead of time. it wasn’t a ‘final hurrah’ like he had previously thought. but god, why didn’t he tell todd? maybe he had thought that it was too much of a burden. was he angry? no, anything but angry. he was upset. he left todd. alone.

it was absurd of him to even think about tossing something so valuable and meaningful into a place where it would simply collect dust and be forgotten about, which wasn’t what neil deserved. his memory deserved to be hung up and shown to the whole world, the patches of sports he’d played and clubs he was a part of displayed in all their ragged but beautiful glory.

todd didn’t know how long he’d sat there, staring at the note, but by the time mrs perry snapped at him to bring him back down to earth, he’d noticed that there were several tear stains on the page. he had read it and reread it over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. he finally let out a small laugh.

“toddy bear… really neil?” he giggled through tears.

and just like he used to, neil had made todd smile for the last time.

#it’s more angst i’m sorry (maybe)#it’s another bittersweet one give me grace loves 😞#dead poets society #the dead poets society #the dead poets #dead poets society fandom #dead poets society fanfic #dps #dps fandom #dps fanfiction #neil perry #todd anderson #mrs perry #anderperry

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insomniac-dot-ink · 5 years ago

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Books I’ve Read in 2020

AHello! I’m trying to read as many books as I can during the quarantine, here’s what I’ve finished so far:

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong (literary fiction): a son writes a letter about his life to his illiterate mother. Breathtakingly beautiful with it’s way with words this book is lovely and real in the hardest and sweetest ways. The author’s combination of prose and poetry is dazzling and intricate, this book has stuck with me for days afterward. 4.5 out of 5 stars.

Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik (fantasy): a money-lender gets in trouble after bragging she can turn silver into gold and is kidnapped and ordered to do so by a fey creature. It may be that I am the perfect audience for this type of book, but it’s my favorite thing I’ve read all year. It’s a book that equally takes on the fantastical and real-world with compelling female characters at the center of the whole thing. A wonderful fantasy journey inspired by eastern-European Jewish folklore. 5 out of 5 stars.

Through the Woods by Emily Carroll (horror graphic novel): a series of short horror comics. Absolutely bone-chilling! This was a really fun type of scary story, especially the last one which made my skin absolutely crawl. Deliciously eerie, this was treat to read if not a little too short. 4 out of 5 stars.

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender (magical realism): a young girl can taste other people’s emotions in their cooking and begins to understand her family in new ways. This was a weird book, but it has everything you’ve got to love about that combination of the surreal and mundane. It’s sense of character was electrifying and I had fun engaging with this type of off-kilter real world. I was a little frustrated in parts bc of some characters choices, but that too was true to life. 4 out of 5 stars.

Crier’s War by Nina Varela (steampunk fantasy wlw): about a Made automaton heir to a throne and her human hand-maiden that is trying to kill her. This was an easy read with a lot of tension between the two main characters that I liked, but the writing itself was very weak. There was waaay too much exposition in parts and the dialogue had some really hockey lines. I enjoyed the twists and turns in the middle of the book, but the beginning and end didn’t have much movement. 2.5 stars out of 5.

The Huntress by Kate Quinn (historical fiction): honestly, I’m a little disappointed. This book just did not hit my sweet spots, it wasn’t fast-paced enough for me to get immersed in the plot, and the characters weren’t real enough to be wholly invested in them. That said I adored Nina Markova and the Night Witches, so that did help. 3 starts out of 5.

The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein by Kiersten White (horror sci-fi retelling): HAND IN UNLOVABLE HAND. A retelling of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein from the perspective of Victor Frankenstein’s wife and my God! The characters! The plot was well-enough, but the characters took the whole show for being complex and compelling. The main character was breathtakingly layered and I was wholly invested in Elizabeth and her story and the triumph at the end of this story was tangible. 4 out of 5 stars!

Uprooted by Naomi Novik (fantasy): A story of a young woman who lives in a valley where a girl must go live with a wizard for 10 years. She is certain she won’t be chosen, but ends up having to be “uprooted” herself. I enjoyed most of this book! However, I think I liked “Spinning Silver” a lot more just because the ending of this one somehow lost me. The characters were good and plot compelling, but (SPOILERS) the big battle at the end seemed to drag and didn’t interest me somehow. 3.8 out of 5 stars.

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia (fantasy): excellent read! A story of a young woman in Jazz Age Mexico who goes on an adventure with a Mayan death God who is trying to regain his throne. A romp across the country absolutely brimming with likable characters and fairy tale twists. My only complaint would be that most of it felt a little predictable due to the fact we knew where we were going throughout the whole story, However, it was still greatly enjoyable for the heroine herself, Casiopea. 4 out of 5 stars!

Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng (literary): a story of two families in a progressive “planned” community, how their lives intertwine, their secrets, and a central question surrounding motherhood. Deeply empathetic to its characters and introspective, this is an every-day story of people in suburbia that reads like a thriller. I could barely put it down and felt deeply for its characters and situations, 5 out of 5 stars!

Wilder Girls by Rory Power (YA sci-fi suspense): a story of a group of girls at a boarding school on an island affected by the “tox” which alters their bodies in strange ways like giving them scales or an extra spine. This was an eerie, interesting read with a wlw romance! Watch out for the body horror in this one, but it was very gripping and held my interest. Some of the pacing was off in places (like the romance), but had a very creepy atmosphere that did it for me. 3.8 out of 5 stars!

If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio (thriller-mystery): A thriller about a group of Shakespeare actors in their last year of college and one of their classmates who turns up dead. I enjoyed the murder mystery part of this novel more than I expected despite the fact I had guessed who had “done it” pretty early on. I really enjoyed the James-Oliver dynamic with its growing homoeroticism, but I didn’t like how the character of Meredith was handled at all. She felt like a one-note aside. I might have given this book four stars, but the ending was EXTREMELY frustrating for me and I did not like the “open-ended” conclusion. 3 out of 5 stars.

A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman (literary humor): a weird character-driven comedy about an old grumpy man and a new family that moves in next to him. Warning for themes of suicide. Anyway, I don’t normally indulge in cliches like “I laughed, I cried, I loved one Cat Annoyance.” However, that’s exactly what I did. I laughed out loud, I cried my eyes out (THE CAT’S HEAD WAS IN HIS PALM), I loved this book. It was sweet and compelling and thoroughly immersive. 5 out of 5 stars!

The Ten Thousand Doors of January by Alix E. Harrow (historical fantasy): set in the early 1900s comes a story of a young girl and her experience with “Doors” that lead to different worlds. This book had a lot of great character development and really interesting descriptions, however, I didn’t like it as much as I wanted to. I found it hard to get myself to sit down a read it. There was just something missing with the push to “page-turn,” but it was still a really good book. 3.7 out of 5 stars!

Gideon the 9th by Tamsyn Muir (high fantasy, kinda gay): I AM FILLED WITH EMOTIONS. This was book was definitely a page-turner. I was very confused with it at the beginning, but the characters and their interactions were, forgive the expression, the life blood of the story and kept me wholly invested. The ending has CRUSHED my heart, but damn did I have a good time reading it. 4.5 out of 5 stars!

Harrow the 9th by Tamsyn Muir (sequel to Gideon the 9th): I really enjoyed this book. It was just as strange and twisting as the first book, though I think I enjoyed the first one a bit more since I love Gideon. It was fun ride overall, though the ending was kind of really confusing. So 4 out of 5 stars.

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo (historical fiction): Overall, I really enjoyed this book! The writing style was personable and grounded in reality. I found myself really liking the main characters and the exploration of the life of a bi main character was really well done I thought. A solid book with drama and glamor to boot. 4.6 out of 5 stars!

The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah (historical fiction): A story of two sisters during WWII and their resistance to Nazi occupation. To be honest, this book wasn’t my cup of tea. It was compelling, but also wholly depressing and I felt like gloried in the pain of the two main characters too much. The history was wonderful and realistic, but it didn’t make me feel anything good afterward. It was just dark. 3 out of 5 stars.

Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston (mlm romance): I finally finished this after the heaviness of The Nightingale. This is a story of the First Son of the USA falling for the prince of England. And it turned out to be a very fun and light hearted read! Some of it was kinda generic and too political, and it coulda been shorter, but I thought the romance itself made up for it. It just made me feel so sweet and lovely inside. 4 out of 5 stars!

Anxious People by Fredrik Backman (literary humor): I’m searching out heartfelt books and this one ticked off all the marks on my “sweet” list. A lovely book that made me cry more times than I would like to admit. Compassionate beyond belief, funny and heartfelt. I think I enjoyed A Man Called Ove slightly more, but this book was also dear to me and something I hope to reread in the future. 4.2 out of 5 stars!

Station Eleven by Emily St John Mandel (sci-fi): A post-apocalyptical story about a group of traveling Shakespeare actors and a symphony. Overall, an excellent read that somehow pictures a more realistic or even softer version of the apocalypse. At first, I wasn't happy with the jumping around of the story, but as I progressed I grew fonder and fonder of the interwoven characters and their journey. A very fascinating read about a world that hits a little too close to home. The appreciation of the arts and preserving humanity was somehow very hopeful and I was fully engaged with this story. 5 out of 5 Stars!

Up next: The Hidden Life of Trees by by Peter Wohlleben (nonfiction science), The City We Became by N. K. Jemisin (urban fantasy), The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern (fantasy)

#I'll keep this list updated!#am reading #bookblr #IA talks #I've mostly read books I've really liked this year!#then again I rarely finish books I don't like

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shitpostingfromthebarricade · 4 years ago

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Marius’s Napoleon Speech

Not Empereur’s Mercy this time I Swear

This take is probably milquetoast, but I was rereading the Corsica speech (3.4.6) the other day for Reasons, and I know we (I) like to make fun of Marius being obsessed with Napoleon and his inability to read the room and to talk about Combeferre’s iconic takedown, and that’s great, that is not a bad or even wrong take,

however,

I invite the reader to please consider: Marius’s whole point in making his speech is not just to say “Napoleon is the best” but “I keep hearing you guys disparaging Napoleon, but objectively, he is a -- perhaps the -- greatest man to ever exist across the board: if not him in charge, then whom?”

What makes Combeferre’s response so earthshattering to Marius is that his answer is to basically tell Marius, “No one man should be in charge.”

Until now, Marius has been thinking in terms of the country depending on one person to run, and it’s a pretty black and white issue: continue with the royal family (as his grandfather believes), or allow this new blood in who has proven his worth again and again (as his father believed). (It’s worth noting that, with the exception of Bahorel, the oldest ami’s birth year is listed as being around 1803/4, aka around the time Napoleon was coming to power.) It’s a very binary decision, and Combeferre has just introduced Marius to the decimal system with eight more new digits.

This entire effect is even more profound if one considers it within its context.

Before this scene, Marius keeps hearing everyone discussing all of these new philosophies that he cannot even begin to wrap his head around: in 3.4.3, we see Marius basically thrown into Advanced Theory (Courfeyrac and Enjolras debate Rousseau, Bahorel and Combeferre make tongue-in-cheek comments about the bourgeoisie) without even a foundational class. The only common knowledge they seem to share, Napoleon, they still have wholly different takes on that Marius cannot even begin to parse, so he keeps his thoughts and feelings to himself until finally, finally, in 3.4.6, he sees his chance to contribute to a conversation in a way that he thinks can beget an academic and meaningful discussion. He is given ample opportunity to explain himself in a whole and complete way and make his point as completely as possible,

and in one move Combeferre has him at checkmate.

And it’s not a snide thing! No one else really knows where to begin with responding to That Whole Speech without really giving Marius the entire Introduction to Representation schpiel, and it’s not something they really think warrants a debate either because, well, it’s clear that Marius is not only not on the same page, he’s in an entirely different book. With one phrase, Combeferre is able to concisely introduce Marius to this entirely new philosophy.

Now let’s get on to the part no one discusses despite it clearly being the funniest thing in this whole damned book:

After all of this happens, Marius just. Loses sense of his surroundings for a bit. We don’t know how long, but when he finally recovers he and Enjolras are the only ones left in the room. At some point, everyone had filed downstairs, and while I’m sure Combeferre was very composed after that mic drop, I have to assume that the general mood by the time they made it downstairs was p much this

because Combeferre is singing, and not only is he singing, he’s singing

If Caesar had given me

Glory and war

And if I must abandon

The love of my mother

I would say to great Caesar:

Take your scepter and chariot

I love my mother more, alas!

I love my mother more.

so clearly He Knows What He’s Done.

(sidenote: 1972 Les Mis has this scene with the song, and you cannot begin to imagine the sheer glory)

Thing is, Marius still isn’t convinced, he thinks he can salvage this whole thing if only he had the audience, and he attempts to gather his thoughts to make this final rally before hearing part Deux of Combeferre’s (and everyone’s) stance, the above refrain.

Marius begins repeating this, “My mother, my mother, my mother,” et cetera, which I interpret as him trying to make sense of the song and its meaning (note: Napoleon is often compared to Caesar, especially in the bricc), and he’s like, “Who is ‘my mother’ referring to?” He’s still thinking in these very singular, binary, one-to-one correspondence terms. Who could possibly be more important than a leader who can lead your country to glory?

And Enjolras tells him, since he’s clearly struggling:

“‘My mother’ is the Republic.”

(With that being said, although it’s probably not correct, the first time I read this scene the song was in French but the dialogue was English and I wasn’t reading the translation notes as I went, so I just thought Marius was asking the Virgin Mary for, idk, mercy on his soul, or praying to his deceased mother for help in these trying times, and Enjolras was like, “HAH, look at this nerd, still hasn’t learned his lesson about idolizing a single figure, I’ll show him” and just

Water Tribe’d Marius’s ass with a “My 'mother' is the Republic” -- which may not be correct but definitely sparks joy.)

To be clear: I don’t think this was Combeferre or Enjolras or the Amis making fun of him (okay, maybe a little bit, but not meanly). I think they saw this as the perfect opportunity to once and for all clear and prepare the fields for planting of new ideas (a metaphor that continues into the beginning of 3.4.6:

He was experiencing what the earth may experience at the moment when it is opened by the plough so wheat may be sown: it feels only the wound; the thrill of the seed and joy of the fruit do not come until later.

)

One final note: although we’re never given an express timeline for this event, we do know that Marius met Bossuet and Courfeyrac in 1828, can infer that he met the rest of the amis shortly after, and can also pretty reliably assume that this incident took place within the first six months of them becoming acquainted. With this in mind, the “seed” that has been “planted” here has, minimum, three years to germinate before the June Revolt. I like to believe that, in this time, the amis continued to spend time with and educate Marius. In the beginning of 3.4.3, after all, Courfeyrac introduces Marius as “a student” after declaring Marius’s political stance to be Pretty Fucking Middling With Potential, and I do think the amis knew what they were getting into with him.

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elriel-oblivion · 4 years ago

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So it's been four days so here's part two 😁 Just wanted to say a huge thanks to everyone who read/liked/commented/reblogged the last part! It was such an amazing response, especially given it was my first time posting my writing here, so thanks for all the love you shared 🥰🥰

Heads up, this part is actually part one from Elain's pov. Initially I wanted to continue from where the last part left off in Elain's pov, but as I was writing the background, I realised I'd written too much to just skip when Az gets to the estate and cut straight into a continuation of part one, so I ended up rewriting the whole thing in her view. So there's no new elriel moments, but you'll get a lot of new stuff anyway 😅 I would've said you don't have to read this part to understand part three, but when I was rereading the later parts a few hours ago, I realised there's some stuff that alludes to things in this part, so I strongly recommend you don't skip this 😅😅

Also, wow, some of my fave paragraphs I've ever written are in this part 😁 Bonus points if you can find them; there are four I'm thinking of in particular 😉

Word count: ~ 3.1K. Lemme know if you'd like to be tagged/removed 😊 Next part up in two or three days 😊

AO3

Ashes from the Deep

Part II

It had been a pretty uneventful day as Elain worked through her new plant textbook. Feyre and Rhysand had decided to spend the weekend away at the mountain cabin, Cassian and Nesta were away doing things she wished not to think of, and Mor was at the Winter Court.

Amren had only been round in the mornings, probably to check Elain was still alive. She'd glance round the living room, examine some of those fine crystal glasses in the display cabinet and then leave. There was no difference today, though Elain always felt Amren's scrutiny upon her even when that muted silver gaze was directed elsewhere; perusing Rhys' wine collection had become a tired ruse.

So besides preparing and taking her meals with Nuala and Cerridwen, Elain had spent her afternoon with her book, making notes and copying drawings. The twins had gone off on some errands, so she'd wandered into the garden at some point to tend to her many plants, telling them how lovely they each were. The crocuses looked particularly stunning this autumn day, their pale violet colour breathing life into the shades beneath some of the trees.

With her book, she'd identified new weeds, digging into the soil to rip some pesky ones out. Sometimes she didn't want the help of a tool; sometimes she needed to feel those roots on her bare skin.

Harvesting the carrots and beetroot was also on the agenda today, along with seeding for some spectacular displays next year. She'd been collecting the seeds from some of her summer blooms, like those soft clouds of baby's breath, saving them to replant. These she sowed directly into ground she'd prepared days before, her fingers digging into the crumbly clumps of earth.

Autumn onions she'd plant tomorrow, perhaps. Feyre always remarked on how their strong taste complimented meats well, so Elain wanted to harvest some fresh for her sister for once. It'd take a few months of waiting, but there was little else better than picking out and eating food one had grown with their bare hands and the essential ingredients of love and care.

Setting her book on the patio table, Elain surveyed the garden. It was a good day's work. Plants watered and sown, weeds uprooted, and hands sweaty and soiled, Elain was proud of what she'd achieved today. There were no distractions, nothing to take her from the one thing she always found satisfaction in.

After a long shower, she found herself back in the garden with a cup of tea and a blanket. The sunset washed the sky in a blaze of red and orange glory before it yielded to the cool tones of twilight then night. Elain sat in silence, hands wrapped around her mug. How long would it be until someone's arms were wrapped around her, until she felt the warmth her sisters finally had?

Silly, these thoughts. Immortality stretched far ahead, there would be time to develop that companionship. Months and years were but a heartbeat in the life of a High Fae. She wouldn't even notice the years pass.

Or so everybody else kept saying.

With her tea finished, she perused the book of recipes she'd borrowed from Nuala. Some recipes jumped out, ingredients for which she'd been growing for a few months now. Pumpkin pie sounded especially delightful, the gourd having almost darkened and hardened to ripe quality just a couple days ago. They should be ready for harvest tomorrow.

A chill wind sent Elain inside to prepare and have her dinner in pleasant silence. Even her mind was quiet tonight. After washing her dishes, she stood by a bay window, fingers idly tapping the windowsill.

Faelights bobbed like tiny lamps, dotted through the garden. The full moon was now high in the sky, its ghostly glow illuminating the datura flowers she'd seeded half a year ago. She pulled on her blanket and went out again for a better look at those gorgeous blooms, the petals opening only at night.

Elain couldn't be happier she'd found seeds of a triple-flowered variety. They'd grown to produce large trumpets, three layers of petals ruffled against each other. Somehow she thought of her sisters as she crouched and stared at the flowers, each layer so similar, yet fighting for space and breath as it unfurled before another. It was only when they were all fully open that they could sigh along the night breeze as one, an ethereal song of togetherness, tinged with notes of poignancy, only heard by those with the will to look deeper.

The white petals were stained with velvet violet, a true vision in her garden. While the others had given her passing compliments on the flowers, Azriel had seemed stunned the first time he saw them, citing them his favourite of all the plants Elain had grown so far. Something about their shape and contrasting colours, he'd mentioned.

She smiled fondly at the memory, where his eyes sparkled as he reached for one of the soft petals.

Her hand lashed out to grab his wrist. 'Don't touch them; the leaves and stems are highly poisonous.'

His brows rose. 'You wouldn't think that at first sight. But they're beautiful, Elain. Truly magnificent,' he said, his smooth voice so low, a voice that was night given sound. And how befitting, as even those datura flowers seemed enraptured by his presence, one shy petal finally unfurling towards him.

She beamed at him. 'They like you. Flowers like it when you talk to and compliment them - but these ones haven't given me the same reaction as they have to you. I think they really like you, Azriel.'

His answering smile was heartbreakingly tender.

A few more seconds passed before she realised she still held his wrist. She silently let go.

It was a shame she'd have to dig out the datura shrub and move it inside for the winter; it did look magnificent in the moonlight.

The sky shifted past its midnight velvet, and still Elain crouched, admiring the flowers. She shivered in the night's chill. The stars above twinkled and glistened, cold and distant as ever, yet stunning - infinitely more striking than they'd ever been when she was human. A thousand different colours sparkled in that vast expanse, the moon a phosphorescent queen in the centre of her court.

The Night Court truly lived up to its name in the wee hours of the day. Its opulence never failed to mesmerise her; the enhanced Fae eyesight was at least one thing she was grateful for from this body.

Her eyelids became heavy and she yawned. Why was she still out here? It was late into the night; she should be in bed by now. But the night was so beautiful and it was so quiet and she wanted to appreciate it all just once. Just once without the expectations of others, without having to wear that miserable smile all the time.

Of course, it didn't look miserable, which is probably why almost nobody ever bothered to look deeper into Elain. She should be used to it by now, but it still felt - wrong. That most overlooked her so long as she wore a smile. That most didn't think her capable of feeling the utter bitterness and loneliness she had once seen so plain on her sisters' faces.

And in acknowledgement of her sisters' hardships, Elain didn't fault them for not looking, for not seeing her. To see past the thick blanket of darkness in one's own mind was a trial in itself. But it had been years since the war now. And still they didn't notice.

They didn't notice that Elain was being shredded from the inside out.

It was almost laughable. But not funny enough.

No, it was not funny that people still treated Elain like a child, that people wanted to keep Elain in some weird impasse of a stage between child and adult. She'd thought finally carrying out her duty and giving her hand in marriage would show everyone that she was growing up: Elain Archeron, middle born but first married. Of course it was still on her own terms, to a man whom she'd loved. A man who'd seen her through the rubble of her family's lives. But she'd overall hoped doing what was expected of her would be enough.

Clearly not. She didn't even know who she was any more. Did she ever? Everything she'd once yearned for, gone. That fragile human life would soon be just a speck on the horizon of her past.

She sighed. Rebuilding herself was going to take a long time.

But what would she have to do for people to see her, to listen to her? Throw a rage? Fall into a drunken stupor and break a few dozen bottles?

She definitely could, but those were not her. She was Elain Archeron. And so she would wait. Patience wasn't a bad thing at all; she saw it on the shadowsinger's face all the time, that tranquility and calmness she so wished to feel inside.

Azriel. Her heart softened as he entered her mind again, and she dug her fingers into the soil, if only to occupy her fidgety hands. As sure as the chaos of her visions these days, there was a mess of butterflies related to him she wasn't willing to show. Or understand.

Elain and the spymaster? Now that was laughable. Truly laughable. He was wise and patient, while she - well, everyone already thought her a child, and though he listened like no other around her, surely even he couldn't glimpse the adult she so desperately wanted everyone to see.

No, it was foolish to entertain the idea of a relationship with him. No matter how much he saw.

No matter that he was the first to see her since Graysen.

Elain exhaled. She stifled another yawn, smoothing out the soil, then brushed her hands clean. She wrapped the blanket closer around herself and stood. Twinkling stars and velvety darkness and -

There, a knot of shadows materialising at the far edge of the garden, collecting and swirling into a larger mass before Azriel himself stepped out and sagged against a tree. His shadows whirled and obscured him, a dark fire with him burning at the core.

Elain's voice left her throat before she even thought to call him and she ran over to his figure slumped in the dimness.

She couldn't help but say his name again as she neared. 'Azriel!'

Those beautiful hands fiddled with a Siphon, but he looked even worse up close. Fatigue dragged at his body, a second weight to all the muscle and armour he already had to carry. Sweat and dirt clung to him, his hair. At least the shadows were parting, swallowing each other and misting away as they often did around her. Perhaps she should ask someday why they did that. But not today, not when his breathing was so laboured.

She raised a hand - to do what, she had no idea. She couldn't just touch him right now. 'You don't look okay.'

Something else limned his features as he huffed a light laugh and said, 'I'm fine, don't worry.' His voice was raw, so starkly different to its usual icy smoothness. It was common for him to guard his emotions, but in his state, this kind of thinking was just unhealthy. What would it take for him to be honest with her?

'You don't have to pretend with me, Azriel,' she said, lowering her hand. She studied the ground, embarrassed that she'd come up to him. What could she even offer in her pathetic childlike state when he was so clearly affected by his mission right now?

His hand rose. Her heart faltered, she had to do something, and she blurted, 'Can I wash your hair, please?'

His eyes widened, his entire composure crumbling. It wasn't often that the shadowsinger looked startled, but Elain was far too shy to show that she quite liked the effect her question had on him.

'You want to wash my hair?'

His face was so exquisite, it hurt to look at it. His eyes would be even worse; it wouldn't be the first time she was rendered speechless by their kind gaze. A myriad of colours swirled in their glistening depths - gorgeous greens and brilliant browns, all so natural and rich, if only she could look at them long enough to find their matches in the garden around her. Though, his eyes were an entire spectrum of colour in their own right. How would she ever pick out each and every shade?

And if she somehow did have the courage to meet his eyes now, what would she see of herself in their reflection?

A lovesick puppy? A doe-eyed, fearful fawn?

No, she didn't want to know.

So she swallowed and focused on his hair. Perhaps this Fae eyesight was a curse, for even his hair was shockingly fascinating. Only flat black from a distance, the faelights bobbing about the trees highlighted layer upon layer of silky raven locks up close. His hair was so dark it seemed to absorb the surrounding light. Mud stained one side of his head, and it was an effort to keep her hands from brushing it away, so she said, 'I'm positive that's mud and you shouldn't sleep with that in your hair. It'll only take a few minutes.'

He ran a hand through his hair, clumps of dirt falling out.

'You've managed to get some on your face, too.' There were light specks of mud and blood across his face, a more noticeable patch along his cheekbone, thrown into sharper relief by the faelights and his own weariness. Was that a cut beneath the patch? And another on his temple?

She leashed her arms.

What had happened? He wore the signs of a fight, but why would he come here when he knew Elain was the only one home?

His eyes bored into her face, but she refused to meet them. He seemed to lean forward then, stumbling.

Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous that he wouldn't even acknowledge he was in need. Azriel rarely stumbled. Any fatigue Elain had felt just a while ago was now burrowing down a little longer. Her voice was firm when she spoke. 'I'm washing your hair. It'll help relax you into falling asleep.'

His brows rose, but if Elain stood there one more moment she wouldn't have the courage to do anything for him. For herself - she could take care of someone else. She could do for Azriel what she hadn't done for Feyre all those years as a human.

And for Azriel, she could tend to the male who'd provided her with comfort and safety in this world of distress and danger.

So she pulled him along, clenching her jaw and refusing to look back. Her heart hammered in her chest but she continued, hand wrapped round his armoured arm. Her hand slid down to his wrist but just as she was about to replace her grip, he grabbed her other hand and pulled her into him.

The shadows instantly began to ensconce them, dozens of those cool tendrils twining like vines. The estate loomed huge before them, and Elain gripped Azriel's hand tighter.

'My bathroom,' she said. Beneath the low whisper of those shadows, her blood thrummed, her heart so painfully obvious against her ribs now. It would be a wonder if the spymaster wasn't aware of it. Though she did hear another flutter above, right by her ear. But as expected, the shadows made quick work of their journey and she didn't have the chance to dwell on it further.

Now out of the comfort of Azriel's hold, Elain set down her blanket and made to grab a chair from her bedroom. His dark presence was so overwhelming that she exhaled lightly as she entered the room and took the chair. She dragged it to the sink, avoiding his gaze, and pulled a towel, soap and a large jug from the cupboard by the door.

As she settled the soap and jug on the sink, she dared a glance at him. He was still clad in full armour, those black scales gleaming like obsidian over his skin, his Siphons glistening jewels across his body. 'I think you'll have to collapse your armour for this,' she said.

He inclined his head and tapped a Siphon, those scales lashing back into each other with cruel elegance. They were a mirror of their master: cold, controlled and unyielding, forged from scintillating darkness. He was a night sky riddled with stars; light existed if only one bothered to look for it.

Azriel's great wings righted themselves as he stood straight, now looking smaller in just his black tunic and trousers. Something about him seemed vulnerable without the armour, so Elain breathed, 'It's beautiful, all of it.' The hulking armour, the classic simplicity of the tunic and trousers, and the male who wore them all.

He was just so wonderful, Azriel. An enigma that could see her own. Her heart clenched.

Azriel rustled his wings, colour blossoming on his cheeks.

Elain blinked and pulled the chair out a little. 'Please sit.' As he sunk down, she rested the towel on his shoulders, hovering her fingers above his forehead. Her body tensed and her fingers remained suspended. It was like a spark of tension flickered in the space between their skin, teasing her, tempting her, taunting her.

After all, she'd offered to wash his hair, an act that would certainly require touching. But why was she so hesitant? She'd touched him before - kissed his cheek, even. Although that had been in the heat of adrenaline, a mark of her gratitude where a simple thank you wouldn't suffice, not for risking his own life for hers.

This was - what was this?

She finally lowered her fingers through that tense spark, pushing his head back against the sink. It was exhilarating, this contact, but he lowered his wings, shifting on the seat. Elain moved into the space he gave, turning on the tap as he went still. Just as her body was taut, taut as the skin of a drum.

She checked the water. Warm. It was time to start.

Azriel was looking up at her. Something like yearning swirled in his eyes.

He looked so tired. It made her heart ache.

'You can close your eyes,' Elain whispered. And he did.

___

Feedback's welcomed; thanks for reading 😊

If anyone wants to know what the datura flowers look like, CTTO:

@illyrian-lover-flower @julesherondalex @nooriee @mis-lil-red @verifiefangirl @tswaney17

#elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #elriel #acotar

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sheepfulsheepyardinspace · 5 years ago

Note

Do you have any Star Wars fanfic recommendations, or have a link to someone else's list? I really wanna veg out.

oh my god, DO I. this may have been the best ask in the world. i’m not really sure what u want a feel for, so i threw together some of my favorite longfics for maximum veg time from the ot/pt and links for swr and swtcw recs. they’re pretty much all luke-anakin/vader centric, since that’s kinda my bread and butter.

let’s start with frodogenic, who wrote the first longfic i ever read in sw and might be one of the funniest authors ever. they once reviewed my fanfic & i nearly cried from joy. anyway.

The Father, 284k+, complete. “Ten years after ROTS, tormenting nightmares of his unborn child drive Darth Vader to extraordinary measures with unexpectedly drastic consequences. Clearly, experience has taught Darth Vader nothing...”

this is my og star wars fic and boy oh boy is it amazing. i will never get over this. i don’t want to spoil anything but when i say the final chapters are great? i mean they’re legendary. sometimes i still think about them & wish upon a star that i could be such a great writer. vader’s amazing, han is spectacular, and the ocs are fantastic.

Far More Than Rubies, 70k+, complete. “Nine years after AOTC, tragedy revisits the Lars Homestead. Little Luke Skywalker is suddenly plunged into chaos as the rebel movements discover a secret military project that may make a crucial difference in the war with the Empire.”

the spiritual twin of The Father, FMTR takes a look at padmé’s character and relationship with both luke and anakin/vader that’s hard to beat. it’s darker and heavier than The Father, but it hits those same sweet, sweet emotional beats while raising the age-old question: if padmé had lived, what would she have done?

The Family Tree, 12k, complete. “In which Luke Skywalker is stranded in a tree waiting for a flash flood to recede. Too bad he's got company...”

okay, i admit, this isn’t a longfic, but it is a longshot, and it’s amazing. the imagery and description always blow me away, and the interaction (canon-compliant) between luke and vader just [chef’s kiss] get me. vader’s in full, glorious form, and it makes it all the harder when luke wrestles with the knowledge that vader is his father.

Sibling Revelry, 25k, complete. “After Bespin and before Endor, Darth Vader is shocked to discover that Luke and Leia are twins. He's even more shocked when Imperial Intelligence reports that Organa and Skywalker are, erm, a tad closer than previously suspected.”

this is complete crack and humor in the best way possible. it’s crack treated entirely seriously, and you will be in stitches, i promise. no matter how many times i’ve read this i break down.

KittandChips (@kittandchips) writes what i can only describe as food for the soul. the luke-vader interaction is insanely amazing, the world building of daily imperial life and imperial governance is amazing, and vader just has a special je ne sais quoi that u must read to understand––tragic, funny, and so, so fatherly. they’re currently rewriting the Force Bond Series to fit in with newer canon, so i will joyously binge reread the entire again (including the new Force Bond: Mustafar Weekend).

Force Bond 1: Orphan, 47k, complete. “After Owen and Beru are killed by a mysterious stranger, young Luke ends up as an orphan on Coruscant. It's a race against time as Obi-Wan struggles to find Luke before Vader realizes the boy is his son.”

Orphan kicks off the series, which tracks vader and luke’s relationship through the perils of luke’s teenagerhood while growing up under the eye of the emperor and imperial court. it’s filled with slow growth, struggle and misunderstandings as darth vader tries to single parent, and pay off in every installment. the entire series clocks in around 777k+ and is the most joyful, fulfilling reading you’ll ever have. promise.

darth-nickels (@darth--nickels) writes darker, twistier, and terribly, terribly heartwrenching aus. they’ve got a whole host, but let me introduce to my two favorites. also, check out their faux-academia on vader. it’s amazing and i love it, but i admit i am an academia hoe.

Dooku Captured, Pt 2, 16k, complete. “Dooku is taken alive onboard the Invisible Hand, and Sidious' web is torn. The Sith Lord wonders if death might have been preferable to clumsy interrogation by Anakin Skywalker.”

Dooku Captured is a longshot au told from Dooku’s pov which takes the beginning of ROTS and throws it on its head. it’s a fascinating outside perspective of anakin and obi-wan’s relationship and such and interesting examination of dooku’s psyche and especially his complex relationship with the jedi order, qui-gon, yoda, and palpatine. i cannot rec this one enough.

Black Mirror, 90k, incomplete. “The Ghost crew returns to the Lothal when they hear the Empire is investigating the Jedi Temple there. They learn Vader is alone and decide to take him out-- but what they find could change the course of Galactic history.”

Black Mirror diverges into swr territory, but make no mistake: this is entirely an examination of vader and, later, obi-wan as well as ahsoka. luke makes his appearance later in the game, and boy oh boy will you love luke’s portrayal is a microcosm of luke and vader’s relationship within canon. heed the tags, though.

jerseydevious ( @jerseydevious ) is, first and foremost, one of my favorite people on earth. secondly, though, she’s an amazing writer with a deep understanding of vader’s character and psyche, a flair for beautiful depictions, and the true ability to wring every emotion out of your body.

Two and a Half Men (with a baby), 13k, incomplete. “After a long day of bargaining with Hutts and attempting to ignore his past, Darth Vader is nearing the end of his rope. When he discovers his two-year-old son, it's the straw that breaks the semi-rational Sith Lord's back; in a rash act worthy of the Skywalker name, he scoops his son into his arms, steals a shuttle from his own fleet, and punches in random hyperspace coordinates to a destination on the other side of the galaxy. Unfortunately, father and son are not the only ones on the ship.”

Two and a Half Men will stick with you, dude. like no other. i promise. it’s a whirlwind ride with obi-wan, vader, and piett and as funny as it is heartbreaking. it touches on some heavy issues and doesn’t shy away from looking at the damage done to vader––again, heed the tags.

Helioseismology, 4k, complete. “Luke gets shot down on a supply run and caught in an ice storm. It's extremely lucky that his father followed him there.“

i’ll admit. im completely biased about this one because it was a birthday gift to me and i am sucker for litcherally anything when jd puts pen to paper, but believe me when i say you will be awed by the depth and tangled relationships between these luke and vader that jersey can illustrate in a stroke of the paintbrush. im love. always.

izzythehutt ( @izzythehutt ) i am blown away by the intricate dialogue and characterization, always. and the latin puns? im sold. im also a sucker for latin puns, but that’s a story for a different time.

In Loco Pirates, 34k, complete. “A down-on-his-luck Hondo Ohnaka manages to capture the unicorn of all bounties--Luke Skywalker, which sends Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, on a painfully familiar trip to the planet Florrum to collect his prize. The failed negotiations leave Vader in the awkward position of being stuck in a besieged pirate bunker, trying to balance keeping his wayward child safe (and in his custody) with controlling the tongue of a loose-lipped pirate who--to the surprise of no one--has a bad habit of telling 'amusing' anecdotes from the Clone Wars.”

hondo, aka the best character of swtcw, is brought to life just as vividly on paper as on screen. his entire personality brings luke and vader’s difficulties in a sort of incredulous light, which makes it as funny as it is vulnerable and tragic. the sequel, Palpatine Ad Portas, brings piett into the spotlight, and oh man do his interactions with palpatine and vader bring u all the uncomfortable vibes. relish in it.

sparklight ( @littlesparklight ) man. lemme introduce u to an amazing prolific and detailed writer. i will never get over the series they’ve written & neither will u.

Where Our Intrepid Hero Doesn’t Get Away, 122k, incomplete. “One-shots surrounding either AU situations of canon/legends works where Luke would normally have gotten away (or Vader is simply inserted into the action to come pick his child up) but in these instances doesn't, or completely new scenarios of the same. There are no deep ruminations on consequences of the situations here, just our awful Sith dad picking his son up when he'd rather not be.”

exactly what it says on the tin. u know those glorious moments of fanfic where luke’s gotten captured and ur on pins and needles, waiting for vader to show up in a moment of dark glory? here’s the moment. here’s all the moments.

Space Race, 122k, incomplete. “Owen gives in to Luke's wish to attend the Imperial Academy and Obi-Wan is too late to avert it, though he's not too late to make sure Luke leaves Arkanis before Vader can gets his hands on him. Luke spends over a month running around the galaxy before his father gets him, and from there...”

this story relishes in chase and boy is it fun. it will keep you on the edge of your seat and it’s an amazing ride.

The Suns of Tatooine, 85k, complete. “Luke ends up on a moon swamped in dark side energy after a mission goes wrong, then his father appears... and then they go on a bit of a learning experience. This could've been the only thing that would come of getting through a Sith complex with his father, but thanks to going to free Han earlier than the gang did otherwise, more revelations are had. Will that change anything?”

this series is a thoughtful, contemplative piece examining the nature of the force and the relationship the skywalkers have with tatooine. the descriptions are beautiful, the inventiveness is amazing, and you’ll be thinking about it for long afterwards.

an additional few…

Between Flight and Longing; 34k, complete. “Luke Skywalker and Han Solo journey to the planet Balen'ar on a desperate mission and find more than they'd bargained for.”

a classic and it is for a reason. the interaction between han, luke, and vader is so spectacular and the slow trudge of going through the forest with your greatest enemy and best friend is something hilarious. the end is bittersweet and fantastic.

The Sith Who Brought Life Day, 13k, complete. “An Imperial officer loses a bet and has to get Darth Vader a present for Life Day.”

somewhere between terrifying and dull, this fic presents a canon-compliant look at the hunt for luke and the grinding wheels of the empire. the oc is amazing and it echoes in true star wars spirit: sometimes it’s just some dude who can change the galaxy.

Quintessence, 5k, complete. ‘“Well, Master, I think I’ve found the one positive aspect of this situation.” “Which is?” “The Temple won’t have to pay the costs for our funeral pyres.”’

pure hilarity and shenanigans abound in pre-aotc obi-wan and anakin hijink goodness. lemme tell u––u will deeply sympathize with mace windu afterwards. additionally, check out the rest of the author’s oneshots! they’re deeply thoughtful and the interactions the author writes between obi-wan and anakin are always gold.

some extras & shameless self-promotion

here’s a full list of recommendations for star wars rebels fanfic in case this is what you’re looking for (remember when this used to be a swr blog, lmao)

i’ve also written sw fanfic, both swr and luke-vader centric. drop by and tell me if it’s any good!

#also if anybody knows these authors' tumblr accounts pls lmk so i can link them #guys remember piett?#i miss piett #firmus piett #star wars #star wars fanfic #sw fanfic #sw fic #three two one boom #jerseydevious #luke skywalker #darth vader #anakin skywalker #star wars rebels #late-in-the-day #idk if any of these r new at all to anyone #but they r my faves :)

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mintchocolatechipnut · 4 years ago

Text

icarus | takami keigo

Note: I first posted this on Ao3, you can find it here. Hawks seems a little OOC here and I Regret That as I reread it but I still liked how it turned out overall. Hope you enjoy!

Tags: ‘Hawks has a crush!’ drabble, reader works at the same agency, possibly OOC Hawks, slow burn, fluff galore, overly generous use of italics

Word count: 2.4k

It’s just moments before he has to leave for patrol, but as Hawks hangs around in the lobby of his agency that fact momentarily leaves his mind when he catches sight of you, with your perpetual smile. You’re at the reception desk, back ramrod straight, fashion impeccable as you greet clients, your eyes lighting up as they regale you with their latest anecdote. Hawks could have been fooled, if he hadn’t known you since the three years he and you began working here, him nineteen and you looking a little older. Perhaps twenty? Twenty-one?

He knows what you look like on a cloudy Monday morning running late for work, your hair in a frizz due to the humidity in the air and the slightly crumpled hem of your dress shirt peeking coyly atop the waistband of your skirt. He remembers the cup of coffee from the cafe down the block that you clutch in the palm of your hand precariously as you shuffle into the building, bidding a hasty ‘good morning’ and letting a look of pure relief grace your face when you spy the clock ticking three minutes to eight.

The you that he sees that’s not for customers is, sadly, also seen by most of his colleagues. They know you’re the entertainment fairy of the agency; despite your calm and collected looks, you’re really the life of the party at functions, always ready to go ham on the karaoke machine and take the dance floor with some killer moves. It’s led to a lot of love for you as one of the youngest in the agency, aside from him, and how the atmosphere becomes a little lighter the moment you step into a room.

He’s not going to lie, those three years with you really did a number on him. He’s a willing contractor of your contagious cheer, his heart lifting when the sight of you greets him after a harrowing day of taking down villains. The job’s not always difficult, he admits, but it’s exhausting nonetheless. Sometimes, if you’re not busy, you’d glance up from your seat, your eyes peeking over the edge of the counter, and disarm him with your gaze. Then a smile, and a wave, and you’re back to work. Little do you know those gestures have carved a nice little space for themselves in his mind, but not his heart.

He’s asked himself the question many times, but he’s been warned many times more. About how it is when you give your heart away to someone who might never understand the workings of a pro hero, or to someone who understands because of their own experiences, but in return you’re never fully guaranteed of their safety out in the field. He definitely has hero acquaintances who’re happily married, with kids and fur-kids, but the stories that echo in his brain whenever he looks at you are those of broken bonds, severed ties and loved ones lost. And then he remembers how pretty you look with that smile on your face, and knows he wouldn’t want anything to ever risk its existence.

But is it too much to hope that he might be, at some point of time, the cause of that smile?

He’s shaken out of his reverie when his sidekick calls out to him, having just stepped out of the elevator in time for their patrol. Unconsciously, he takes one last look at your form, now turned away from him as you stand before the photocopier, and his chest vibrates with the murmurs of his heart’s wish for you to turn back for one last glance.

But you don’t, instead your head turning sideways to return a conversation with a coworker, and Hawks finally looks away. The automatic glass doors open up before him as he steps out into the city for another day of work, and the last thought he has before switching into professionalism is how you greet him in a way these glass doors never could.

Hawks has always been one to be in tune with his emotions, but just because he acknowledges them doesn’t mean he needs to act on them, or give in to them.

But as he sits alone in his office, hands tightly balled atop his knees as he heaves through his mouth, he’s tempted to let go. The words Dabi uttered to him feel like they were from eons ago, yet they’re floating afresh in his mind, bouncing off the confines of his brain like echoes as he strains for his own voice to be heard above the din. He’s shaken, no doubt, but heaven forbid that he’s so shaken he loses his balance in the air.

He’s known as the man who goes too fast, but never as the man who flies too high or too low. He’s comfortable where he is, his technique immaculate as he keeps himself airborne. But the drawbacks of being too fast is that without near perfect control you’re prone to crash and burn, and Hawks surmises that he’s close to that end when he’s never once slowed down enough to confront the feelings collecting dust and despair inside his heart. The mental strain the undercover mission has on him weighs on his conscience like gravity, and suddenly he’s falling, and his wings don’t open up fast enough, he’s not fast enough—

And then the sound of his name in your voice envelopes him like a safety net and grounds him gently, instead of the splat to the earth that he’d seen as imminent just seconds ago. He looks up from where he’s sitting to see your eyes scan over his hunched figure, and he prays you can’t see the sweat beading the sides of his neck or the whiteness of his knuckles in his lap. He watches as your brows knit together, your stare once sweet now laced with worry, and he curses internally that he’s not able to put you at ease in his condition. Smiles come as easy to him as they do you, so why is it so hard to muster one now?

He barely hears the click-clack of your heels as you make your way over to him. All at once his brain is firing off warning signals, his head is ringing with alarms. No, don’t come near, don’t get near me, the sirens blare, don’t see me like this—

A carton of juice is placed on the glass tabletop before him, and his gaze slowly traces up your fingers to your face. He wants to remove his gold-tinted glasses to convince himself you’re not as perfect as he perceived, but at the same time your light is so blinding he’s afraid that if he sees you in your full glory he’ll burn.

But you’re still perfect in his vision, though the edges of your mouth don’t quite reach your cheeks as you put on your trademark smile, and are you faltering? It’s the first time he’s ever seen it, and yet you look prettier still. Hawks wonders if you're not accustomed to sadness, you with your eternal grin. Wonders if, for all the cheering up you do, you lack in comforting and sympathizing, but then he realizes that's such a rude thing to assume.

“It’s been a long day, huh?” He spies the stray strands of hair plastered against your damp forehead, as you walk away from him towards the windows, where you start to draw the blinds. “You can stay here if you want, but I’d really like to lock up soon.” When you turn to him again, your smile no longer wavers. Your gaze does, though, and it's enough to prove his earlier theory wrong. "I also think you should get some rest."

That precarious position he holds while airborne is threatened immediately by the sun in your smile, your laugh, your heart, and he finds himself falling to the sea below, instantly relishing the feeling of air through his feathers and the coolness the water’s about to grant to his scorching skin. But oh no, oh dear— the sea is also you, the deep expanse of your arms and chest welcoming like that of a siren's song, while your eyes threaten to rob him of the lift in his wings.

He knows the League of Villains was a force to be reckoned with, but you are a whole new danger altogether.

It’s the first and last time Hawks would ever let you see him as… well, ‘vulnerable’ is what most people like to call it. ‘Less than best’ is what he tells himself instead.

He couldn’t call your relationship that of friends, since you’ve never had to speak to him more than the occasional small talk and necessary work matters. However, he couldn’t call you an acquaintance either, when he bumps into you in a convenience store one weekend and immediately watches your countenance brighten.

You greet him first with a sunny smile on your face, but he’s delighted to see that it came with a messy bun and sweatpants that signal you were in your most comfortable state. As he stands behind you in line as to not obscure your view of the signs overhead, displaying the prices for an ice cream cone, he’s locked onto the sight of your frame, the loose baby hairs sweeping across your nape, and he wonders how it’d feel to envelop that frame with his own, to let his own hair tickle that nape—

His silent beration of himself for having these thoughts come to a standstill when you move out of the periphery of his vision to let him make his purchases. Instantly, regret washes over him that you have to leave so soon, that the one time he’s managed to see you out of work you’re gone so quickly. So imagine his shock when he finds you waiting near the doors, your purchases in a bag on your arm while you hold two ice cream cones in hand.

He doesn’t know what good deeds he’d done to bring this on, but he’s not questioning this: walking side by side with you, ice cream cone in hand as you both make your way down the street towards the station. You apologize that you’d been presumptuous in getting him ice cream, and he’s taken with how the corners of your eyes crinkle in mirth when he dismisses it with a laugh. He's enjoying the ride home, even misses his own stop under the pretense of ensuring safe passage home to a well-meaning civilian. And when you reach the front door of your apartment, ice cream gone from your hand a long time ago, he wonders if you'll ask him to stay.

But you don't, instead thanking him and telling him to rest well and have a good evening, Hawks. And before he can stop himself, he utters, "Keigo. Keigo is fine."

A beat, then another. They're loud and thundering before he realizes that they're echoing through his eardrums. Gritting his teeth, he forces himself to look up.

"Okay." Your voice lilts from the doorway, and—he really wants to know where you get all these dazzling grins from, so that he can bottle some up for a rainy day. "Have a good evening, Keigo."

Suits don’t suit him. Obviously they hinder his wings, but the stuffiness of wearing them often makes him wish he was on patrol instead, soaring through the sky while feeling the wind whip his clothes.

But here he is, in a tailored suit where the starch of his collar digs into his neck hard enough for him to consider laying off the chicken nuggets this month. Besides the stuffiness of the suit itself, the air where he’s at is downright suffocating, though the ceilings are high and the chandeliers glisten in magnificence above his head. He can feel the thin film of sweat forming across the skin beneath his tight, layered clothing, and he wonders how he hasn’t gotten used to this, after all the charity balls and hero galas he’s had to attend.

Perhaps today will be different, he thinks. Today is his agency’s tenth anniversary, and there’d been a function thrown together for it. Of course today is different, he realizes—you’ll be here. That fact is enough for him to inhale deeply and step into the grand ballroom, and really, it’s not hard to spot you.

There you are in the middle of the room next to the refreshments, a vision in your dress as you hold a flute of champagne between your fingers. It’s a stark contrast from how you hold your coffee cup on work mornings, and all of a sudden he realizes he’s been holding his breath. You’re talking wistfully to a bunch of colleagues at work, and your polished appearance makes him forget how much more frazzled you’ve looked the past few days while planning for this occasion with the rest of the events team. Where strands of your hair would have been sticking up in all directions sits an elegant braid pinned to your head, while the rest of your hair cascades past your bare shoulders like shimmering waterfalls. The demure smile on your face belies the pallor of your complexion where lack of sleep is evident, but you’re beautiful, even if in a vampire sort of way. Hell, you’re beautiful no matter what.

You’re absolutely magnetic, and he’s drawn into the whirlpool that is your presence as he takes a shaky step across the floor towards you. He’s all too aware of the rapidly pulsing heart inside his too-tight chest, the heart that holds a million wishes just for you.

But he's done wishing and wondering. He's done hearing the voices that tell him he's too fast, or not fast enough, or that he's in trouble. Your name leaves his lips like a prayer, a desire given form and shape for just having been spoken, and Hawks watches as you turn. He feels your face brighten before he sees it.

His heart alights when your mouth moves in tandem with the letters in his name, his first name, and he shifts his gaze to eyes that disarm him once more. Instantly he knows those eyes will disarm him as long as he lets them (as long as it’s you).

He’s falling, but god, has he ever felt so free—

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks drabbles #hawks fluff

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unmotivated-cosmere-nerd · 5 years ago

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Why Worm is the Perfect Gateway from YA to Fantasy/Sci-fi

I’m going to start off by saying I first read worm when I was 14 and while I thought it was cool I didn’t read past the leviathan arc and I didn’t go back until I was 17 where I started reading it again and loved every second of it. There’s a reason for this, I think, and because worms start off as a YA thing before becoming so much more with a solid foundation.

I was originally going to make a post that basically said: “Hot take: The thing that stops worm from being YA is the fact that characters “Good or Badness” is not determined by whether they agree with the main character or not” but its more than that and so I’m Going to make this post.

1. It starts off as a YA

Worm begins by giving the reader a lot of YA tropes, bullied at school, oppressive system, having a secret you are keeping from the rest of the group, Hypocritical authority figures(I’m coming back to this one), Not being handsome or pretty, Low Self-esteem, Characters called bad by the system being cool or secretly good and misunderstood(Coming back to this as well).

These tropes work because a lot of young adults see themselves in these charters because a lot of people feel like outsiders in these years see themselves as misunderstood and it's great, I'm not disparaging YA but YA isn’t made to challenge a reader (past Levi I felt legitimate anxiety reading Worm) it's made to entertain a reader and it does that by making truly care about characters. However, in Worm, it makes a character based off of those tropes and that is Taylor this doesn't mean much till we get past Levi but it is noticeable on rereads where you see her go out un-ready because, as it seems to me, she wants to go down in a blaze of glory, not some heroic ideal

Point is Worm starts off by being really appealing to YA readers.

2. Levi Arc / A break from YA / Violence in YA

Worms Un-YA-vacation actually starts a chapter before Levi. This is the point where a YA begins its conclusion, Threats have been faced they have grown together as a team and think they've got through the worst of it, now the true villain is revealed, there's a betrayal a twist happens and the heroes rally to prove themselves over whatever weird morality the villain has(Coming back to this as well)

In Worm, the Twist is Dinah Alcott, however, there is no betrayal, no secret villain, just villains doing villain things, only now Taylor (and by extension the reader) sees the victims to her crimes and the secret villain was Taylor. At this point, Tayor and her friends would come together and save Dinah and prove they were the real good guys all along except they don't the rest of the Undersiders are ok with it and that's a big break from YA plot. The character and her friends are supposed to be, unless they were deceiving the protagonist, “good.” Taylor freaks and runs but before we can deal with that (and we will) Levi attacks.

These days a lot of YA is “edgy” but that death is used for a reason, A Lot of times you'll hear something like “All these people died except him” or “She’s an elite assassin who killed all these people” another use of death in YA is to set stakes killing a whole bunch of named characters during the aforementioned betrayal to set stakes or to cause a character to unlock a new ability through grief. In either scenario, the Protag either avenges these deaths or is a main player in a battle the protagonist. In Worm, Taylor plays damage control, takes a stab and leviathan and Phoom! Broken spine. She is insignificant and that made me so afraid that I'd hear the words “Grue - deceased” that I put down the book for three years. It's real and it's scary.

Violence and Death aren’t trivialised or given lip service, it's real, it's respected and it's a theme and it makes you take it seriously. Fighting stops seeming cool.

3.Ensamble and Morality.

In my mind, you can split a YA protag into two types: A brave idealist in a world of cruel realists or in more edgy YA smart realist in a world where others are idiotic Idealists, in either the protags world view is the right one. Now It's hardly a groundbreaking idea that Taylor isn’t justified in doing bad things but I'm going to address how this idea is given to the audience.

I think it's fair to describe Taylor as a member of group two, In her mind, she's doing what should be done whilst her antagonists are trying to uphold a system that does not work, at least as far as she thinks. In a YA this would make those who are on her side good and those who oppose her bad, that's not the case in the Worm. A lot of the Undersiders are arguably bad people; they aren’t sanitised. More so the people who oppose Taylor are legitimately heroic and you know this because you got to see through the eyes of the BB Wards and you know they aren’t fake. You buy into the idea of them being Heros which makes you question it when Taylor opposes them but more so you feel conflicted. In YA you might feel bad for the antagonist who had a sad backstory which is why they are doing a “bad” thing but you don't in Worm (Because those are our protagonists) instead you're conflicted because the antagonist has a Solid argument for why they oppose Taylor that can’t be written off.

Basically, a YA would decide a character's Morality by whether they are on Taylor's side or not and worm takes a good look and subverts that specific trope in a way that's hard to ignore

It's worth noting that whilst other fantasy/sci-fi novels don’t really work with these tropes Worm takes them and morphs them to a point where you the reader become conflicted and unsure on what you think about Taylor by using established YA tropes you would only really buy into if you read a lot of YA (Which I did)

4. Fighting the System

The idea of an oppressive system and unfair authority is a big theme in YA and that's because it's relatable. Here's a quick sketch of a regime in YA it's full of hypocrites(Armsmaster) and Unfair and Malicious leaders who are either incapable if the MC is a realist or too brutal if the MC is an idealist (Alexandria and Eidolon) and when the organization is overturned (normally by the protag) the good members(Miss Militia, Chevalier, Legend) come into control and say that the MC was right the whole time and change their policies to suit the MC.

There's a problem however both Taylor and the System are Realists and Utilitarians, they have the same moral code. Not a new idea, but it challenges that specific Idea of what an Antagonistic organization is supposed to be.

The Hypocrite (Armsmaster) takes stock, and in a YA would realize he's been criticizing the MC for doing the same stuff he is and then stop criticizing and supporting the MC, but here he takes a good look at himself realizes he's been a hypocrite and changes his behaviour! Armsmaster straight up criticizes the way he behaves in the past, becomes a better person and that makes him even more of an antagonist for Taylor which makes you question her even more.

Finally, When The good guys get in charge of the organization they remain Taylors antagonists Chev and MM still have an issue with the way Taylor operates and tell her if she doesn't comply she gets prison

5.Conclusion

I used to read a lot of YA back in the and I think it's worth noting Worms interaction with YA because it takes YA tropes and dynamics that someone who reads YA automatically assumes and then twists them breaking your assumed ideas about things in a way that makes you question things. And the reason I think this is important is because as I said Earlier YA exists to entertain it is safe, comfortable and fun. But Literature can be more engaging if you want it to be.

The best works of Fantasy/ Sci-fi Drag of those comfort zones. The Way of Kings makes you think about coping with depression and dealing with systems that keep the disadvantaged and exploited docile, I-Robot makes you question what defines personhood, except those works can be daunting. Worm takes a YA reader and gives them what they want for a bit until things start to descend into the groundwork of morality and make you look at it. In a YA novel, utilitarianism and trauma would be character traits used to define a character. In Worm you are forced to question it, to examine it and then come to your own decision, yes the world was ultimately saved through utilitarianism but it could have been done better. Trauma was weaponized, but it was a trauma Taylor had too.

When I reached the end of Worm, I found that YA just wasn't as engaging, and I went looking for a book that felt more real and had real themes, stuff that Worm showed me and that's why I think is a great gateway into Fantasy and Sci-Fi

#parahumans #worm #wildbow #worm spoilers #taylor hebert #armsmaster #defiant #leviathan #ya #young adult #young adult novels #literature #fantasy #Scifi #sci-fi

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thecarmillacurator · 5 years ago

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Your Mom Called, You Left Your Game At Home - Carmilla Fic Review & Recommendation

*New Reviews Posted Every Saturday with one-shots and drabble recommendations Mid-Week*

Title: Your Mom Called, You Left Your Game At Home (Softball AU)

Author: catmilla on Ao3, @chaoticbecky on Tumblr

Word Count: 127K

Chapters: 20

Rating: Mostly Teen but with Mature scenes

Ship: Hollstein

Tags I’d Assign: #softball au #rivals to lovers #enemies to lovers

Author’s Synopsis: softball au in which laura and carmilla are pitchers on "rival" softball teams in the silas parks and recreation softball league. laura takes this very seriously, carmilla does not. laura hates carmilla, carmilla loves riling laura up. laura has a strict (personal) rule against not fraternizing with the enemy (save for her best bro kirsch that carmilla stole for her team on purpose) so, what happens when a dry spell, a losing streak, and a very flirtatious carmilla all finally culminate to laura's breaking point?? read and find out!

Readability: Easy. Reading level and narrative flow make this 127k novel feel more like 80k, so it’s an enjoyably fast read considering the length. In the first part of the story, there are punctuation issues relating to dialog: I.e. Using commas at the end of dialog, within the quotation, but then capitalizing the start of the attribution or descriptive text that goes with it, or else using a period within the dialog quote when it should be a comma because there is still attribution/descriptive text to follow. However, eventually the brain gets used to it and it stops being distracting. There are also some “it’s/its” typos, and a few sentences where the author switches up to present tense when, given the context, it should probably be future tense. But again, overall, it’s very easy to read.

Reviewer’s Plot Summary: The definitive (at least to date) Hollstein Softball AU. Laura Hollis’ life is in a bit of a slump, which is why she’s obsessed with leading her city league softball team to a repeat Championship season of glory. Unfortunately, her team can’t stop sucking. Enter Carmilla Karnstein, captain of their rival team, who lives (and loves) to rile Laura up. Only, there’s history there. Six years earlier, they’d led their highschool softball team to a State Championship season with their mutually stellar pitching skills, and the older Karnstein- who had been a bitch and a bully to Laura as a teammate- had gotten all the glory. Laura still hates her for that, and also for what happened between them at the Championship game’s afterparty. Which is why, as Carmilla now flirts and taunts her into a (fr)enemies-with-benefits situation, Laura is ill-equipped to handle evidence that the object of her hatred doesn’t actually hate her back. In fact, for Carmilla, it’s not her team’s standings that matter: It’s the three-balls-and-two-strikes count where it comes to her heart.

Recommended to Read: Yes. It’s by far my favorite softball AU across any fandom I follow.

Review: There are some conceptual cons to this novel for me, and yet, rereading it never feels like a chore. One half-enemies to lovers, one-half unrequited love, it’s a recreational softball league romance that brings in the feel-good dynamic of the whole gang (Laf, Perry, Danny, Kirsch, Will), a good mix of angst and fluff, and the fun, competitive nature of sports rivalries. The

story is written in third person limited (primarily), with Laura as the narrative focus. Also, if you happen to be a Pitch Perfect fan, there will be a few subtle (very, very subtle) Easter eggs for you.

The Con [Edited]: This time, I’m going to put the negative first and simply address it as a “con” rather than “concrit” because I don’t want to put people off reading it (READ IT!), and also, I can’t fairly call it as much “constructive” criticism as personal preference. But here it is: This is not my favorite version of Laura. For my taste, she is a little too much of “a raging bad person” to Carm.

My issue lies only in my personal moral/relationship tastes, not in something about the story itself, so just take that worth a grain of salt. And, further, there *is* a backstory that explains Laura’s dislike of Carmilla and her difficulty in changing her own opinion. (Although, I would have loved to seen some flashback scenes to their time playing high school softball together. I think it would have been exciting, and also made Laura’s tight grip on her hatred a little more fleshed out.) Finally, I easily concede that upon rereading YMCYLYGAH for this review, I made a conscious effort to try and ‘listen’ to this version of Laura’s words and thoughts in my mind’s ear with a view towards favoring heavy sarcasm rather than the vitriolic hate I took it as during my first read. It helped a lot. And, in fact, it may simply be that I just wasn’t getting it the first time around.

The Good: I *love* softball AUs. (Did I mention I really like softball AUs?) This story has great energy. It does a beautiful job balancing the tension of the softball season with the tension of the relationship plot. The balance between what happens in the main characters’ lives outside of both of those things is also nearly expertly done; there’s exactly enough to make the story and world feel sufficiently fleshed out, but not so much that it drags the plot or pacing down. There are two subplots, one for each Laura and Carmilla, that come into the story at exactly the right relative timings in Act II, both of which weave well into the fabric of the main story to support it without coming off as contrived. The minor characters, likewise, have a perfect ratio of being present and mattering, without becoming distracting. (I appreciate the fact that Danny isn’t an overbearing jerk. #dannydeservedbetter)

Ah hem. Here, also allow me to gush for a minute over catmilla’s Carm. How hard she falls for Laura is so adorable. How thoughtful she can be is cute. The fluffiness of her- which Laura refuses to see- is so sweet that it’s tangibly cotton candy. You root for her. And at times, you *hurt* for her. (Which is probably why I had such a hard time with this Laura, because, “Dammit, Jim, WHY DOESN’T LAURA JUST ADORE CARM BACK??!!”) Yet, this Carm keeps swinging for the fence because she’s so in love. Ungh.

Also,something I always enjoy as a reader, and which I believe is a hallmark of really good storytelling, is when location has a pivotal and evolving role in the plot. Here, it’s the softball field. The author does a great job covering in-game action while not devoting a distracting number of scenes to it. But cleverly, she also made so much *more* happen and orbit around the field that without it, the love story itself wouldn’t exist and wouldn’t be nearly as fun. It is sometimes a wing-man, sometimes a foe. It is sometimes a dance floor, and sometimes a war zone. Day and night, heat or cold, I’ll just hijack the saying, “In life as in [soft]ball, all good things happen at home.”

In conclusion, it’s an easy, satisfying read with laughs, tension, fluff, angst, and sex that isn’t overly smutty.

Oh, and did I mention?

Carm gets the girl.

NEXT IN THE QUE: Vampire Hotel by Jenocide (Ao3) / @heyjenocide (Tumblr)

#carmilla #hollstein #carmilla fan fiction #hollstein fan fiction #fic rec #@chaoticbecky #softball au #rivals to lovers #enemies to lovers #the carm curator #the carmilla curator #@thecarmillacurator #carmilla karnstein #laura hollis #danny lawrence #lafontaine #lola perry #carmilla the webseries

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missmeikakuna · 5 years ago

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So, Apparently, I Find Fairies Hot Chapter 1

Rated: T

Fandom: Original Fiction

Relationship type: Male/Male

Description: You know those movies and TV shows in which an effeminate gay character has a crush on the popular jock? Strike that, reverse it.

Daniel is technically popular at school but fades into the crowd. After an injury at footy (Australian football) practice, he is forced to focus on improving his grades, starting with English. Luckily, the new kid in school knows a lot about Shakespeare and is willing to tutor him. Now if only this new guy wasn't so attractive.

CONTENT WARNING: Homophobic slurs are used. Also, there are some sexual references but nothing too graphic.

Chapter 1: Is it gay to stare at a dude?

Daniel rushed outside, finally free from his plaster prison. He tilted his head up to the sun and closed his eyes, basking in the glory of… something. He just needed to bask in something. Anything was better than white walls, constant beeps and the smell of shit food with a top note of piss.

‘Don’t run too much. You’ve got to keep your leg safe for the next two weeks just in case.’

Daniel turned around and glared at his mother, who dropped his backpack, crossed her arms and glared back. ‘And that means you’re not playing footy for another two weeks.’

‘But mum-’

‘Where did you learn the word ‘but’? Certainly not from me. You can focus on your schoolwork.’

She leaned down and picked up the backpack, taking out a book and shoving it into his chest. He fumbled the book until he was able to catch it.

‘Read it on our way home. You’re falling behind in English.’

Daniel turned the book over and groaned. ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. Why did he have to keep reading these stupid plays from a billion years ago? It wasn’t like he was going to join the theatre. He didn’t see any point in an aspiring footballer reciting Shakespeare. It was like forcing an aspiring actor to learn trig.

He followed his mother in the car and did as he was told, but frowned the whole way home. He only got past the first page before he reached home. Couldn’t someone translate this damn thing?

He asked his mother this. Her sharp features became as hard as stone like her eyes could petrify her own face. ‘Get your teacher or a classmate to help you. You could invite someone to study with you after school since you can’t go to practice.’

Daniel’s knuckles turned white as he nodded, still sitting in the car. His mother swung the door open, her hand on her hip.

She chuckled. ‘Has your leg stopped working?’

Daniel growled with his mouth closed.

By the time he reached homeroom the next day, his hands were sore from high fives. He slumped into a seat and circled a dent in the desk with his finger.

‘So, how’s your leg?’ Mrs Meek asked with a grin and a slap on his back ill-fitting of her name. Daniel gave her a thumbs-up and a small smile.

A tall boy with messy hair slid into the seat next to Daniel. ‘You okay?’ he asked.

Mrs Meek’s smile grew bigger. ‘You actually decided to show up, James B!’

James nodded and leaned back in his chair. Mrs Meek walked up to him and shoved the chair forward.

‘Nice try.’

Daniel rolled his eyes and looked around the room. Something was different. His eyes moved from student to student until he discovered the outlier, who sat at the front of the room.

A pale boy with long black hair in a high ponytail twirled by a curling wand was looking at himself in a compact mirror and puckering his lips, which were the colour of pink lady apples. Daniel wasn’t completely sure, but the boy seemed to be wearing mascara. His lashes were certainly long. Not that Daniel cared. His boredom as Mrs Meek called the roll was simply forcing him to stare at the boy.

‘How about you introduce yourself?’ Mrs Meek asked.

The boy tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and stood up, turning towards the students. He spoke with a voice like a kitten’s meow. If that kitten had something up its nose.

‘Hi, everyone! I’m Eddie Ironpoe and I’m a Sagittarius!’

Silence.

Then a few hesitant claps, with some added snickering.

‘Is that your real name, Mr Ironpoe?’ Mrs Meek asked with a smirk.

Eddie laughed and sat down.

Daniel kept staring at this boy as he gussied up in front of his compact mirror. The bell informing the school that first period was about to start jolted him out of… something. Not a trance, no way, but something akin to it.

First period was English. James patted his shoulder and cocked his head to the side, his way of saying ‘Let’s skip.’ Daniel followed him for a while until he saw Eddie walk towards the English classroom.

‘Actually, I want to see if that guy says something ridiculous again.’

James nudged him. ‘Ooh, got a man crush?’

Daniel pushed his arm away. ‘As if!’

When he entered the classroom, he saw that Eddie was sitting at the front of the classroom again, except this time he didn’t have his compact mirror in his hand. Daniel was going to sit in the back of the room like he usually did in English class, but he had one question nagging at him. That and he needed to do better in English.

No way was he going to sit right next to Eddie, but he did sit two seats away. ‘Hey, uh, have you heard of a smartphone? You can put it in selfie mode and use it as a mirror.’ Daniel waved his hands around. ‘Not that I do that! I just see girls do it all the time.’

Eddie smiled at him with toothpaste-ad-white teeth. ‘Well, I don’t think we’re allowed to have our phones in the classroom. And besides, mirrors are way better at capturing how I look. Phone cameras are kinda shit.’

A tall figure lumbered towards the front of the room. Daniel’s shoulders rose and his hands rushed to the safety of his pockets.

The figure scratched his bald head before facing the students. ‘Good morning, everyone.’ His already narrow eyes narrowed further as he spoke louder. ‘Good morning, everyone!’

‘Good morning, Dr Daylings!’ The students cried.

‘Better. Open Act 2 Scene 1. Who wants to play… on second thought, I’ll have Daniel play Robin. Who wants to play the fairy?’

Eddie shot his arm up. Dr Daylings nodded. ‘You must be Ed Smith.’ Eddie pouted. Daniel noticed how shiny his lips were. Dr Daylings crossed his arms. ‘You will have to wipe that makeup off.’

Eddie smiled again, his eyes glimmering. ‘Actually, I read the uniform guide and there’s nothing in there about boys wearing makeup.’

‘The lipstick is too bright.’

‘I haven’t got any lipstick on. Only clear lip gloss. My lips are naturally this colour. And I go by ‘Eddie Ironpoe’, by the way.’

Dr Daylings glowered at Eddie, who kept his smile and a straight, studious back. The teacher held his head in defeat. ‘Very well.’ The class laughed. Dr Daylings took a book from his desk and slammed it down, silencing the class.

Daniel tripped over his words as he read his part aloud. He had no clue what he was talking about. He had to reread words and ignore the sympathising stares.

Eddie spoke with the confidence of a Shakespearean-trained actor. He put emotion into every line, the words flowing out of his mouth like he was having a casual conversation. Despite having no clue as to what he was talking about, Daniel couldn’t help but watch. He became so engrossed in his performance that he forgot when it was his turn to speak again, earning chuckles from the class and a scowl from Dr Daylings.

At lunch, Daniel, James and a few other people Daniel sort of knew sat on the big couch in the student hub room, eating different snacks.

When Eddie entered the hub, a few people from English class flocked to him, asking him questions ranging from which school he went to before to what curling wand he used.

Daniel looked away, but his ears perked up when he heard a question he had rolling around his mind.

‘Um, no offence, but are you…. gay?’

Eddie bit his lip. ‘Uh, none taken? Yeah, I’m gay.’

A girl jumped at the chance to play matchmaker. ‘So which guy here would you date?’

Daniel’s shoulders rose. He coughed after choking on a piece of apple. James patted his back and asked if he was okay. Daniel could only nod.

Eddie looked around the room. ‘Well, judging by appearances, no one.’

Silence.

‘Wow, rude,’ one of the boys said with a smirk on his face.

‘Well, I don’t know anyone’s personality. I could get to know someone. Who here’s gay?’

A girl answered, ‘No one.’

Eddie wagged his finger. ‘There’s bound to be someone, statistically speaking. They just need a key to open their closet. Though, to be honest with you, I’m not interested in being someone’s closet key.’

Daniel looked away and bit his tongue, ripping pieces of his muffin off.

The school bell rang at the end of the day and Daniel stretched his fingers, relaxing into his chair for a moment before standing up. He waved goodbye to James and headed to his locker, noticing that Eddie was standing by the locker on the other side of the hall. He tried to say something to him but it was quickly drowned out by the hordes of students rushing to the locker from further away classrooms.

After ten minutes passed and the students had dissipated, Daniel walked up to Eddie, who was sticking postcard-sized posters on the inside of his locker door. Daniel didn’t pay attention to what the posters contained because Eddie was pouting when deciding where to place each poster, the redness of his lips all the more visible.

‘Uh, hey,’ Daniel said, looking at the ground. Eddie whirled around and held two posters up. Both posters were of…. Daniel guessed they were drag queens judging by the exaggerated makeup, both in gothic outfits.

‘Which one’s better? I only have room for one more inspo photo.’

‘The one with the Scissorhands thing going on is cool, I guess? Um, so, where did you learn to read Shakespeare like that?’

Eddie stuck the photo in the last space. ‘Oh, were you in my English class?’ Cold sweat ran down Daniel’s spine. He felt like an aspiring footy player who was just told he didn’t make the team. Eddie didn’t notice this. ‘Well, I just love reading Shakespeare so much. I don’t want to be an actor, but I love watching it too. Musicals are alright but I feel they can’t compare to Shakespeare’s words and rhythm. It’s pretty easy to read his work as his rhythm mirrors the human heart and the number of syllables makes each line sound like a real conversation.’

Daniel put his hands in his pockets. ‘It’s not easy for me. Old English is tough.’

Eddie wagged his finger. ‘It’s not Old English, it’s Modern English. Old English is before the Middle Ages, and Shakespeare’s works came out after the Middle Ages.’ Daniel scratched the back of his head. ‘Oh, sorry for the lecture. Is there anything else you wanted to ask me?’

‘Could you teach me? You know, about Shakespeare stuff. I’m not doing so well in English.’

Eddie released an awkward chuckle. ‘I don’t know if I’m going to be any better than an actual teacher, but I guess I could help you out.’

‘Are you busy this afternoon? I can’t go to footy practice, so I’ve got nothing to do except homework.’

Eddie put his backpack on one shoulder and shut the locker. ‘Sorry. I’ve got something on tonight. But every other night I’m available. Do you want my number so we can make plans?’

After exchanging names and numbers, the two waved goodbye. Daniel’s mother picked him up from school. Neither mother nor son said anything as they travelled home.

Once he was in his room, Daniel lied down on his bed and stared at Eddie’s number on his phone. Should he call him to plan the group study? He just saw him. Maybe he should text him. But would that be too cold?

Daniel rolled onto his side as he pondered this decision. He eventually gave up and dropped the phone next to him, pulling his doona over himself before falling asleep.

‘Shit!’ Daniel spat a few hours later.

The bed was wet, and not from urine.

Daniel couldn’t remember what the dream was about, though he vaguely remembered the images of both Eddie and a friend who moved schools the previous year. He wasn’t sure what they were doing in the dream, only that he needed a cold shower stat.

The room was dark. He looked at the clock. It was already 7.

When showering and trying to ignore the pain coldness brought, he remembered his old friend. Logan was a short, stout boy who obsessed over both footy statistics and hot women. When they talked about statistics, he and Daniel got along just fine. When Logan got a girlfriend in his final year at the school before moving, Daniel started hanging out with him less. Something about Logan’s girlfriend, though he wasn’t sure what, pissed him off, and Logan always brought her along when they hung out.

Daniel rushed back to his room with a towel around his waist. He hated being naked and had to clean his pants before his mother saw. He picked up his phone and, his hands shaking, messaged Eddie.

Wanna meet tomorrow?

He gave him his address.

He waited. And waited. He washed his pants and sheets and dried them, then waited.

Was Eddie still doing whatever he said he was going to do that night? What if he was never going to reply? What if he was only trying to be nice when he agreed to tutor him and had no interest in actually doing it? Would he have to pay him? How much?

He thought about what Eddie said to that girl about closet keys. He shook his head. It wasn’t like he was gay anyway, so it didn’t matter what Eddie thought about him… right?

He took his books out of his bags and got lost in triangles and revolutions. He was broken out of his focus by a ringtone, which was of ‘Now You’re a Man’ by DVDA. He picked up his phone and smiled, some unknown yet familiar force lifting his body up. He hadn’t felt this sensation since he started going out with a girl in his class earlier that year.

Sure :) How does 4:30 sound?

Should he reply back straight away or keep it cool? He remembered something his now-ex girlfriend said to him.

‘Talking to you’s like talking to a ghost. Are you even here?’

He went through a long, agonising word-choosing process.

Sounds good.

Daniel flopped onto his bed, letting his phone rest on his chest as he tried to slow down his breathing.

#bisexual #romance #gay #writing #LGBT romance #yaoi #drama #original fiction #fiction #Breaking Stereotypes #LGBT #So Apparently I Find Fairies Hot

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kmomof4 · 6 years ago

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And now... it’s Hollye’s birthday!!!!

🎶Happy birthday to youuuu, happy birthday to youuuuu! Happy birthday dear Hollyeeeee, happy birthday to youuuu!!!🎶

🎶it’s your birthday, it’s your birthday, it’s your birthday, time to party... 🎶 even if I’m not there in person this year to celebrate it, we can still have a tumblr party!

For your birthday this year, I’m taking the advice you gave me closing in on a year ago to share with the fandom what a lovely person you are and my favorite fics that you’ve written! So buckle up!!!

Hollye is the absolute WORST...

I mean really... how else did you expect me to start a post about my sarcastic bestie than with sarcasm???!!!

She is the WORST about making me want more... and crying... and begging... and pleading... and just sitting over there in her corner that I send her to regularly laughing evilly and clinking coffee cups with her fellow torturers @artistic-writer and @sherlockianwhovian while continuing to plot my demise... but seriously, she is an INSANELY talented writer and I am tremendously blessed to call her my friend! She is the best kind of mom who balances me out when I go overboard and helps reign me in and see sense when I’d rather just throw myself off the cliff. But enough about her... now I want to share what my favorite fics are that she’s written! All of her fics are absolutely incredible and I recommend them all, but these are the ones, in no particular order, that I’d better have with me if I was ever stranded on a desert island...

A Knight for a Swan. This was the fic that Hollye and I became friends over. The one that I reread the other day and discovered that I had not left kudos on or bookmarked...

the one I devoured as she wrote it each week, the one I was in TOTAL MELTDOWN SCREAMING CONNIPTIONS over every week, the one that I sent her to the corner for for the first time, the one that started it all...

The campaign had lasted only mere weeks before King George had been dispatched, and King Arthur had victoriously claimed the throne. Divided loyalties among the Lords and Knights of King George and Sir David had left the kingdom too weak and disorganized to put up much of a defense. Now all the lands were vulnerable. It was only a matter of time before an army loyal to the new Sovereign would come to capture, not only Sir David, but all his lands, his holdings, and even his only daughter. All in the name of the new King.

What Lies Beneath the Mask

Killian has never seen his face. At least, not that he has memory of. Rescued by his adoptive father, Lord Rumple Gold, when he was a mere four years old, Killian has always been told that his heartless mother abandoned him on the steps of Misthaven Cathedral because of his monstrous deformity. A deformity that must be hidden away behind a mask. He is forced to suffer a life of abuse as Lord Gold’s son’s whipping boy until he comes of age at 18. Misthaven Bishop, Nemo, offers him a place as groundskeeper at the cathedral where for the past six years, Killian has longed for a life among the people of Misthaven. In a moment of bravery he chances being a part of the crowds during the annual Feast of Fools celebration and meets a woman who is able to see past his mask to the man underneath. With her help, perhaps Killian can begin to discover what lies beneath the mask.

A Harem of One series including A Harem of One, How May I Serve You, My Master, and Your Wish is My Command

Killian Jones, younger son of Prominent Turkish Businessman, Brennan Jones, meets Lady Emma during the height of the London season just a few weeks before he must head back to Constantinople to take over the family shipping business. Despondent over the fact that he had to leave the woman he loves behind, things get interesting when Brennan tries to give Killian a welcome home gift.

Varcolac, A Hybrid Tale her offering for the @cssns last summer

While heading home to prepare for the coming evening, Killian Jones happens upon a woman broken down on the side of the road. A woman who shifts the entire foundations of his being with just her scent. Killian Jones is a werewolf you see, and the unsuspecting lass has landed herself deep in werewolf country on the cusp of the first night of the full moon. Knowing he must get her on her way for her own safety, Killian offers to fix her vehicle, but things go awry in town when another wolf attempts to stake a claim on the stunning stranger. Now Killian must do all he can to protect the woman, Emma Swan, from a vengeful pack, all while keeping his true nature a secret from her. Turns out, Killian Jones is no ordinary werewolf.

The Legend of Captain Killian Jones

Cursed three hundred years ago to take on ghost form and haunt his family estate, Killian Jones receives a reprieve once every hundred years to take on corporeal form in order to try and break his curse.

A renowned restorationist, Emma Swan takes on the project of bringing the three hundred year old Jones Manor back to its former glory. A manor that is reportedly haunted by the notorious Captain Killian Jones. Good thing Emma doesn’t believe in ghosts.

And I Don’t Want to Go Home Right Now

Killian Jones had not left his apartment in two years, four months, and thirteen days. Not since he’d finally decided to shut himself away from the whole blasted world after a freak accident had left him without his hand, and for all practical purposes, his heart.

Until We Meet Again

Take us to that island…

Aladdin kept telling them that all wishes came with a price. Who would have thought that, once they’d been able to retrieve and repair the Nautilus, the price would be a portal back to Hangman’s Island...in the past. Now Liam and Captain Nemo find themselves on the very beach where Liam’s older brothers have washed up after the tempest sunk their ship. Do they return them to their kingdom and allow their lives to continue on in the manner they did before? Do they allow them to remain on the Nautilus and reveal their brotherly connection to the vessel’s first mate? What is the true price of this wish and will who will have to pay it?

The Cottage her current WIP

Everyone knew of the dark creatures that were rumored to lurk in the forest, the mystical elements that cast a foreboding veil over every cluster of trees, every sweeping branch and quivering leaf. The forest was quiet in the way fear was quiet. A silence one felt in their bones as it thundered in their ears from the pounding of their heart.

To Emma Swan though, the quiet of the forest wasn’t that of fear, but of tranquility. She felt no foreboding in the way the trees swayed, even on windless days, or the shrouds of fog that collected along its floor. Emma was fascinated by the forest, always had been, but had never set foot across its border. She had enough prejudice against her from the village as it was, and the pull of the pines and sweet berries she could make out from the boundary line wasn’t enough to warrant more consternation from her neighbors.

The cottage on the edge of the tree line was, though.

Yuletide In the Tower

An old friend helps Hook provide an amazing Yuletide celebration for Alice while still stuck in the tower.

Dark Hook Comes to Storybrooke co-written with @winterbaby89 for my birthday in 2017. Has now become a series with outtakes.

Moments before the Evil Queen’s Dark Curse whisks our beloved fairytale characters to Storybrooke, Captain Hook finally gets his revenge on the Crocodile.

As I said earlier, all of Hollye’s fics are absolutely fantastic, and if you’ve missed any of them, you are sooooo missing out!!!! Happiest of birthdays Hollye! I hope it’s as wonderful as you are!!! Love you girl!!! 😘

#happy birthday #fandom birthday #hollyethecurious #happy birthday hollye #cs fic rec list #hollyethecurious fics #krystal recommends #desert island fics #cs ff #cs fic

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lozenger8 · 6 years ago

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So-Far Best of Loz

These are the fics I’ve written that I love. Featuring Life on Mars, Psych, Teen Wolf, and Various Fandoms.

Life on Mars

We start off with an oldie: Palimpsest, a remarkably dark mostly-gen but background Sam/Annie fic that heralded the first time I ever wrote something that turned out better than I imagined it. I had workshopped this fic for over a year, but finally wrote out the version that exists in, like, three days of righteous fury.

Another gen-fic, but focussing even more on the Sam and Gene friendship: Gone Far Away into the Silent Land. I just really like the lyrical nature of this fic and its quiet melancholy. Also, the last line is killer, even if I say so myself.

Sam/Gene fic: Changes. How could I not link this, in which you can see that the current Loz who shipped Burt & Stu readily in Weird City has always been within me. This fic is the first time I ever managed multiple levels of plot, and yes, the pacing is a bit off, and the morals are hinky, but I will always love it. There are some scenes in this fic that I just think are *chef’s kiss*.

Sam/Gene fic: it’s just gravitational, in which, years and years after writing Sam/Gene regularly, I finally nailed the short relationship fic I had always wanted to write. I reread this one simply for the wordplay and the sweetness and the bit at the end that makes my heart skip oddly. Well done, past-future-Loz, for finally writing a fic that past-past-Loz would have adored.

Psych

Your Code Name is Babalu, a Shawn/Lassiter Choose Your Own Adventure fic that fills me with delight to this day. My ability to nail Shawn’s voice after years of writing Mancunian cops was a revelation and brought me a lot of joy for a long time.

The Closet and Dr Caligari -- Shawn/Gus -- Look, there’s a lot wrong with this fic in small ways, from pacing issues to some telling rather than showing, I’m not gonna lie, but I still love it because it’s a murder mystery with a romance A-plot and it brings the kind of mostly humour with some light angst I like to Shawn/Gus when almost everyone else in Psych fandom brought high angst/melodrama.

Teen Wolf

I Intend to be Independently Blue - Stiles/Derek. Sorry people who hate this pairing, but I will always love this fic. Getting to write something so different from anything I’d ever written before was such a breath of fresh air and I will always mourn what I thought could’ve been a great friendship between Stiles and Derek. (And, look, I think half of me still thought Derek was, like, 20 at most. Even though I made a Chris Hansen To Catch a Predator joke in the fic itself.)

giving up this whole lie, this whole me - Stiles/Derek again (with added Derek/Jennifer - written before we knew she was definitively evil). Ah, if only the show had allowed Derek to grow onscreen as well as off. I like the nuances and cadences of this fic. I like to write things with quiet desperation in them, and I feel this has that in spades.

Apparent Lack of Ceremony - Scott/Stiles fic which was trying to resolve the sense I had at the time that Stiles was a little bitter about Scott and his lack of attention, and in which he was completely wrong-headed. This was as much a reaction to how fandom liked to paint Scott at the time (and to this day.) Plus, it’s, like, objectively hot.

Fragile Bodies of Touch and Taste - Scott/Stiles - PWP that’s character-study and the sort of poetic I enjoy. And hot, again. I just really like it, what can I say.

A Phenomenon When You Came Along - Scott/Stiles - my most consistently- plotted, well-rounded skittles fic, which is another story where I clutch my hands to my chest and murmur “Good job, me.” It’s just so cute, and real, and happy.

(don’t be mad) cause I’m doing me better than you doing you - Scott/Nogitsune, Scott/Stiles, Major Character Death. So at this point you might’ve been mistaken for thinking “Oh hey, Loz started out writing dark, morbid or super melancholy fic but she moved steadily towards the light and now she’s always sweetness and fluff.” And in this story I prove that within me there is always going to be a murky little trash-goblin, waiting to peek out into the sun. I love everything about this horrible story that I know I couldn’t read if it were written by anyone else.

I Fear I Had a Love (And Now It’s Gone) - Scott/Stiles, bittersweet ending - see above. I still go ‘why did I do that?’ at myself, and the answer is always: because I needed and wanted to.

every ribbon you used to tie yourself to me - Scott/Stiles - PWP. I feel like this is one of the hottest things I’ve ever written. (But I also really like First Time Ever I Saw Your Face, in that regard. [And Fraternization, because, as stated, I am a murky little trash-goblin.])

Lovemark 2.0 - Scott/Stiles - It’s my current baby and I love it so deeply for being adorable and fun, with an edge of character-study and an air of innocence.

Various Fandoms

Don’t Get me Wrong, I’m Only Dancing - Britcom RPF that’s locked on Ao3. This is, hands-down, the cutest shit I’ve ever written and sometimes if I need a pick-me-up I will reread it and beam from ear to ear.

5 Bottles of Wine and 1 Bottled Courage -- Brokenwood Mysteries -- Mike/Jared -- this is actually tied with Don’t Get me Wrong for being so goddamn cute I don’t know where to put myself. I also love the character voices and plotline and ambiance.

All Its Splendid Glory - Merlin - Merlin/Arthur. There’s a reason this fic often gets recced around Christmas time. It’s fucking heartwarming. It’s fun, it’s lightly angsty, it has some good character-beats and witty lines. I wrote it in two days and it’s some of my finest shortfic work.

#my words #text post #my writing #well you asked for it

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darkloveangel · 6 years ago

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you know what? i’ve been sitting on this for months ‘cause i thought maybe it needed something but rereading it now, it’s good, y’all can have it

it’s a write-up of a dream that then gave me ideas for a whole new ass setting and characters and plot-line, M rated warning because life gave me lemons, also it’s just kind of weird

As I guide the group of adventurers through the ancient castle, riddled with traps placed by Her and Her disciples, I almost feel sorry. Young and good of heart, simply looking to slay the evil and save the realm.

Though I do sense inklings of desires of fame, riches, and vengeance in their souls, it is not enough to cloud their intent.

They came to me, looking for an escort, hearing that I knew the ins and outs of the towering structure, hearing also of the depths of which it descends to house the ancient, evil Goddess. Rumors started purposely by myself, for just this occasion.

Fresh-faced heroes looking to change the world for the better, exactly the kinds of gifts She adored most. Their naivety and foolish confidence would amuse Her greatly before She would make them succumb to Her will, Her desires.

What would please Her more is knowing that such gifts did not merely stumble upon Her lair of their own wit, but instead brought to Her, by one with power seeking to curry Her favor. She adored powerful admirers, and those with the most power She would seek to make Her lowly king. If they could withstand Her… affections.

As the adventurers slid down a trap, I stepped off to the side and shed my mortal disguise that I might make use of my natural anatomy, and draw more strongly from my power, so that I might climb the edges of the massive chamber in which She dwells.

The mortals found themselves in a caged area at the center of the room, lined with beasts under Her command so that they do not escape while She assess their worth.

I watched Her imposing form, Her luscious vertical blue lips against stark white flesh. No eyes visible but I knew well She could perceive every detail, nearly every minutiae of the situation as She praised one who would control Her castle by will alone, making sure the mortals would make it through to Her unharmed.

Her gaping maw turned to me as I made myself visible from behind the shadows of the nearest arch.

“You’ve done well, little one, to bring them to me. Do you seek to win my heart?” The last word came out with a heavy breath, lined with desire despite the gruesome sight of Her mouth splitting apart, revealing another layer of Her head beneath, more aligned with mortal standards.

I leaped down from my perch, careful to land on the stone island at the center of the seemingly endless pit.

“I do, my lady. Your beauty and power is utterly enchanting, I would be honored if I could rule by your side, or even being at your heel would please me greatly, should you deem me unworthy.” I said, kneeling with my face towards the floor.

“That’s him!” I heard a whisper from behind me, within the cage the mortals were held. “That’s our guide, I know it!”

“Are you sure? It doesn’t look a thing like him.”

“It sounds just like him, get rid of the demonic tone and it’s him!”

I turned my head to look over my shoulder, glaring at them more intensely than I thought, given how quickly they shut and stiffened.

I turned back to see Her look down Her nose at the mortals, grinning a sinister grin. Then She looked down to me, expression turned alluring. “Shall I test your will then?”

“It would be my pleasure to be subject to your scrutiny.” I dared walk closer to Her, turning around so my back was to Her and I faced the cage. “Should they be subject to this?” I asked, referring to not only the adventurers, but Her minions as well.

She leaned closer, pressing down on me so that my chest pressed to the cold stone floor. “It will be amusing to have them watch, don’t you think?” Her breath was fetid in my ear, Her lower amorphous dark blue mass pressing into me where Her bosom did not cover, Her pasty white hand reaching out to grate against the metal bars to taunt the horrified mortals. “Or are you shy?”

“No, I-” I gasped as Her form pressed closer to mine, unimpeded by any clothes, as I left them behind with my mortal form. She entered me, first gently with a smaller shape so that I was prepared for the true test that was to come. I was met with unexpected pleasure as She saw fit to caress my shaft, which had quickly hardened and revealed itself upon Her execrable stimulation.

Thinking it was part of Her test, I had further reason to withhold succumbing to the sensations that washed over me. I had to keep a clear mind, and prevent myself from disappointing Her by withstanding her affections until She was satisfied. I would not win the right to be Her king, and share in Her power. All of my efforts, all of these years would be wasted. The lives of these pure and naive adventurers lost.

Though, withstanding Her lust was not the final challenge ahead of me.

Then, She withdrew and I felt a moment of desperation, of emptiness. She could not be done now, surely? All the tales of the others being devoured before me, unable to please Her? What weak wills they must have for them to give in so soon.

But I knew I was not so foolish as to truly think this was the end, and was soon proven right as She entered me fully. Her greatness filled me, coaxing out from me a moan so deep it pressed into my throat as if She has pierced through my entire body. This, I was not expecting.

She moved within me, the trembling and rumbling of Her form above me, Her moans, her breathing, echoing throughout the hall, the walls, the floor shaking with Her movement.

Oh, what glory! What privilege! To be used, to please a Goddess such as Her! It was almost too much. Almost…

By the Divines, I was almost there, almost succumbing to ultimate pleasure, almost at Her complete and utter mercy.

No!

I did not come here for this! I did not spend a decade, waiting for the right band of mortals to come along, sound of mind and body, determined with ultimate good in their hearts for this! I did not lead them to their death so that I might lose myself in Her test, before even reaching my true goal!

I had to satisfy Her before I am finished, I must restrain myself and goad Her into Her bliss.

“Oh, divine Saliasci.” I let out between heavy breaths. “Your pleasure is my pleasure, I would do anything to hear your screams of celestial ecstasy, to satisfy you fully. Please,” I huffed as She knocked the wind out of me with a powerful thrust. “I beg of you, use me to feed your deepest desires.”

“Aren’t you precious?” She cooed, scooping me up with the hand that once taunted the hapless adventurers. “I do adore such fervent servitude. I think you’ll make a fine King.” She tilted my head up toward Her with a finger, pressing Her thumb into my back and stroking. Then She leaned close, lips caressing my horns as She whispered. “If you can last.”

Sickly delighted laughter shook Her body, the undefined parts of Her form creeping up from the pit which it dwelt, like a horde of slugs seeking stale ale recently spilled. I was that ale, soon covered in the writhing mass.

I lost my sight when it crawled up my spine, up to my head, then over the rest of my body. I felt it everywhere, cold, soft, and wet with electric stimulant. Everywhere but my mouth and my shaft, giving me just enough room to breathe, and staying well away from pleasing me overmuch.

Though my breathing was labored enough, Her amorphous body soon took a phallic form and forced its way down my throat. My raw, tender flesh burned with unusual delight; the skin of my joints, the vents in my chest, the entirety of my cock. Burning like they would under strain, using my magic, but it was so much more than a surge of power.

The mass tightened around my extremities, making it near impossible for me to move, to resist Her desires as She relentlessly used me, fucked me, as if I was merely a plaything. Like every living thing was to Her. A toy.

It was then that She was finished, Her otherworldly screams rattling the very earth, Her entire form shuddering with the intensity, even the body hidden within the deep darkness that was yet to show itself.

In this moment of Her weakness I allowed myself release, briefly, the waves of euphoria starting from my core, quickly reaching my extremities before it all came back to me with ten times the intensity, and none of the sensuality when I began to absorb Her power.

It was almost too much, I could hardly stand it as my form strained to contain it all. Oh, my body ached, fit to bursting. And Her screams became more beautiful as She was torn from this realm, desperate and confused, enraged. But the power! More than I have ever felt before!

No! I must not let the power overwhelm me! I must not become like Her. I must not become like those I hunt, the Gods drunk on the worship, clouding the minds of those near without them knowing, driving them to sin, to suffering.

Her effects would linger but at last, She… she was gone. If the mortals behave well of their own hearts and souls, then she will be for good.

I used some of the power I tapped into to float gently back to the ground, my body sore, burning, glowing.

I took in a deep breath, composing myself before I walked to the edge of the cage where the mortals were still contained. They looked utterly mortified.

“I apologize that you had to see such a thing, your minds must have difficulty comprehending.” I tore through the bars effortlessly, still surging with Saliasci’s magic energy. “And I apologize for lying to you, it was the only way.”

Saliasci’s minions cowered before me, offering no resistance, weakened by their Goddess now defeated. I walked past them and motioned for the adventurers to follow.

It was not until I had changed the floor to steps and disabled any traps within my range, glancing back, did I notice the mortals had not moved an inch, only looking at me with wide eyed stares.

“I promise you, I will not lead you into further horrors. You’ve all played a pivotal role in my plan, you deserve your rest as much as I.” They still did not move. “And I would much like my rest.”

“W-Why?!” One of them shouted, finally able to gather his words. Little though they were.

I tilted my head, mouth agape at the sudden, vague question I could not answer. “You must be more specific.”

He stood there and stammered, unable to form anything resembling a sentence.

I sighed, seeing that this would take too long if I did not do something more. “It was my intent from the beginning to kill her, I did not lie to you in that respect, I too wanted her dead. For years I’ve waited for mortals like you to show yourselves, others would become corrupt before they even glimpsed her, and she would become bored of my offering. She wouldn’t give me the opportunity if you had all become her thralls before she had the chance to turn you herself.”

“Why did you want to kill her?” He asked as he finally took a step forward.

“Was that not apparent in our initial meeting?” Seeing as nothing had changed in his demeanor, I continued. “She’s a blight on the land, she corrupts the minds of mortals, leading them to their own suffering.” My patience was beginning to wear thin.

“B-But, you’re a demon! Why would a demon care about that?”

“Is it so hard to comprehend that a demon would despise mortals lives being unnecessarily lost at the hands of an uncaring God?”

“But-”

“Not all of us enjoy misery, not all of us enjoy anger, not all of us see mortals as lesser and things to be used selfishly. I, in particular, do not so easily fall victim to a Divines aura. Now come.” I insisted, starting to make my way up the steps. “Saliasci’s beasts may not be so kind to you.”

At last, I heard their footsteps shuffle after me. Though, I had to hear their confused mutterings to one another.

I could not wait to sleep.

#jen writes stuff #eldritch shenanigans #exophilia #long post #in case read more doesn't work

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orpheus-type-beat · 6 years ago

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Percy Jackson part 1

Confession time: I was a gigantic Percy Jackson and the Olympians fan as a kid, so this book is very nostalgic to me. I haven’t reread the series in a long time though, especially not the first book, so it’s very interesting to read this stuff again as an adult. I was struck with a couple of observations. First, It’s a pretty good book, which is a relief. I can defend my 11-14 year old self’s tastes, this is mostly a solid kids fantasy novel.

More relevantly, it’s very different in tone and in execution than Rick Riordan’s later books, especially his sequel series Heroes of Olympus. Those books bounce between different perspectives, and the whole thing is written in a close third person. Moreover, they are so caught up in the lore and the universe and the Percy Jackson formula that they, I feel, lost touch with something the original series had that made it feel special to me. Rereading the first book in the series, I think I have a better understand why.

Perspective

I’m a sucker for first person narration in novels, I’m realizing. Another one of my childhood favorites, the Animorphs series (shoutout to anyone who read those), was also written in this same sort of first person. Each book began with a very post-modern, “if you’re reading this it’s too late,” exposition machine that explained the premise of the series, who the important characters were, and set up the events of the book. The meta, post-modern framing device is never fully explained (why were the characters of the Animorphs, or Percy Jackson himself, writing any of this down?), but are used as a framing device to enhance suspension of disbelief, and to enable humor (through snarky asides).

This close first person, a sort of refined stream of consciousness that feels like a combination between a movie shot entirely in one characters’ POV and a letter written to a friend, is missing in the later Percy Jackson series, I think to its detriment. Not only does the first person narration makes sense in a Greek setting — it emphasises orality, putting this book in conversation with orally transmitted greek myths — it also enhances the series’ humor. A lot of the humor comes from Percy’s wisecracking during fightscenes, which gives the series an action-comedy feel. The comedic portrayal of many of the gods and supernatural beings adds to that, but much of the comedy comes from Percy’s reaction to events, not from the events themself. This enables the events to be able to be taken seriously while simultaneously being mocked and used for humorous purposes.

The first person perspective also differentiates this series, tonally and technically, from Harry Potter (which is a much more obvious influence in this first book: he goes to boarding school, has an abusive home life, and lives in the legacy of a mysterious parental figure). In many ways, this book reads like post-modern Harry Potter — the sense of wonder and fairy tale magic is replaced with humor and a system of magic that feels more logical and rule based. Stuff like the Mist, as an explanation for how the magic in the world remains hidden, and the fact that monsters explode into dust makes this an urban fantasy, akin to sci-fi as much as fantasy. Harry Potter, in contrast, is firmly rooted in fantasy.

The second Percy Jackson series moves to a close third person narration style, and while there are benefits to this (for example, there isn’t the need for the dream sequence exposition hack, and the series can accommodate diverse perspectives more directly) I think something tonally and structurally is lost. It loses the sense of orality, the primacy to the action and humor lent by a first person narrator with a “unbelievable true story” framing device. That blending of the border between fact and fiction is what myth accomplished in Greek times, and what the original Percy Jackson series accomplished for a lot of people, and surrendering that means surrendering something special.

Disability

I had forgotten what a big deal disability is in these books. The thread of all demigods being troubled kids with mental disabilities, specifically learning disabilities, is I think really interesting and radical. We still live in a world where mental illness is taboo, but some mental illness are less taboo than others. In particular, when people say “mental illness” they usually aren’t referring to all mental illness. Usually, they are referring to a subset of mental illnesses, issues like depression, various types of anxiety, bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, etc. — mood, personality, or anxiety disorders.

Of course, those illness are all still massively stigmatized, but all of those disorders tend to leave cleverness, speech, and some behavior intact. It’s easier to “pass,” in a sense, with those disorders, than it is with other mental illness. We can understand the troubled genius better than we can understand someone who is intellectually disabled.

That’s what makes the learning disability angle so interesting. In theory, these demigods aren’t troubled geniuses, they’re normal, unexceptional kids (discounting the water bending and sword fighting) who can’t read or write well, can’t focus, and don’t always succeed in the classroom. They aren’t brilliant, but fragile minds. They’re just C, D, and F students, with gifts that are incompatible with our school system’s expectations about the pace of learning and what achievement looks like.

These are the kind of kids we don’t tend to recognize as valuable, and worthy of being written about and made heroes. And if I remember Riordan’s impetus for writing this series was his son’s own struggles with learning disability: dyslexia and ADHD. But in the Heroes of Olympus series, this disability angle is really de-emphasized, and I think to its detriment. It loses the “it gets better” message and inclusivity to people who, even in narratives about mental illness, often get left out.

Myth Making

This brings me to the interesting ways this book is in conversation with Greek myth, and myth in general.

First of all, having all the demigods have dyslexia and ADHD is a clever inversion of the typical Greek hero’s childhood. Usually, Greek heroes were preternaturally gifted, succeeding in and out of school, and are immediately recognized as different and special. In this book, the heroes are recognized as different, but not as special, but as lesser than. This transform the Greek hero’s sense of inevitable destiny into an underdog story — one that works for modern audiences, the way a gifted noble’s path to glory worked for ancient ones. This reflects modern conceptions of democracy, and the mobility of class, that didn’t exist in ancient times (reminder that Athenian democracy was for rich, landowning men).

Second of all, there is a distinctly non-Christian concept of cycles at play in this book, and in this series. Threat to Zeus’ rule by Titans is thematically compatible with ancient Greek succession myths. And the bit about monsters turning into dust and then reforming eventually creates an overarching them of balance: the war between good and evil is eternal and constantly shifting. The best anyone can do is try to shift the balance, temporarily, in a positive direction. This makes all of the fun bits, like locating the modern Mount Olympus in New York City, having the gods adopt modern trends, work thematically as well as humorously. There an almost Eastern theme of yin and yang, which in all honesty is reflective of Eastern influence on the Greeks and Romans.

Thirdly, Rick Riordan has one mode, it’s just the Odyssey, and that’s fine. The road-trip rompy with constantly shifting objectives leading up to some climax that reveals itself to have been behind the scenes all along is a classic narrative structure that is very ancient Greek, and so works in a story so deeply in conversation with ancient Greek myths.

Conclusion

Finally, by way of conclusion, the thing that makes this first Percy Jackson book/series work, and interesting in conversation with fantasy, myth, and stories about heroes, is one of its central themes: the deification of humanity. The gods in this universe are static, comic figures. Humans are the ones that are able to change things — that’s why the gods love them, and keep making demigods all the time — and humans are the ones, in the series, that are capable of real good and real evil.

(Semi spoiler alert) In the last book, it is the human capacity for love, sacrifice, and good that saves the day, and produces positive change in the world. The gods are powerful and eternal, but the real source of beauty in the world is humanity, in its capacity for change, rebirth, and renewal. Gods get bored, get cynical, get complacent. They decay, eternal and unmoving. In contrast, humans die and new ones are born, and to them the cyclic war between good and evil remains fresh. Humanity can continually change without movement or exhaustion, constantly relearning the same lessons and experiencing the same joys and sorrows afresh. Gods, locked in a cycle, go around once and are bored and numbed forever, while the human experience stays continually vital and alive.

That’s why this series, despite being so rooted in Greek myth and fantasy, feels so modern and sci-fi influenced (as a huge sci-fi fan, that’s probably why I like it so much), and why this story — despite its post-modern trappings — reaches for sincerity. Gods, in the Percy Jackson universe, can’t survive on their own. They are immortal, but they can grow tired. They can be broken by endless living, and fade away. The gods rely on people to break up the monotony, to remember them and keep them alive: humans are the source of life in this universe.

(real spoiler alert). The series ends with Percy being offered godhood, immortality, which he rejects. That’s the thematic conclusion to the entire series, and its significant. Besides true love or whatever, the reason Percy rejects immortality is that he realizes that to live and die, taking part in the cycle, is more meaningful than eternal life. Becoming a god would mean forfeiting that meaning. This is a series about gods and monsters and nymphs, but the real magic in this world is humanity.

Our magic is thus: unlike the gods, as time streams past, we remain untouched by eternity. And I’d argue, like this series does, that that’s real immortality.

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mocacheezy · 4 years ago

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Wanted to make a seperate post for this, because this stuff will go under a readmore. (damn it got long)

Added my two cents on this post, but here is what I do when I do have the energy leave comments on fics (and some extra thoughts on my kudoses):

Comments

There is such delight when I find a fic that I have to write my thoughts down while reading, because I love to scream my joy @ the author in the comment once I am done with the chapter/fic itself.

And hopefully by the time I reach the end of the chapter I can calm down enough to actually write something coherent aside from screaming and keysmashing.

Some fics get me that excited!

Some fics I had to put down while reading, so I could pace around the room, because the possibilities for where the situation could go are ENDLESS!

Some fics I've put down and picked up MONTHS later, because a chapter was just so good and made me feel SO MUCH, I was unable to read further!

There are fics I forgot about and returned to years later and was DELIGHTED to see them finished or still going (there was this one back on fanfiction.net that I adored with all my heart, and I plan on checking out what happened to it. The author went on a break around the time another fandom took my attention, but the fic was so good I still remember it from time to time. It made my life more than just bearable, it made me laugh to tears at some points. )

When a fic gets me that excited, I noticed I tend to either comment short excited comments before nyooming to the next chapter, or read all of it over a course of a couple of days, gather my thoughts and leave an almost essay long comment, because the whole fic was just so good and I want to say it all in one place!

There were a couple of fics that I actually WANTED to write essays on, because I appreciate the authors writting style so so so much! For some I still do, because holy hell, the writing and characterization is great, while ALSO gives us things canon/source material didn't explore. But, if I do that, I wanna do it good because KUDOS TO THE WRITERS!

There are also fics that have me grinning and commenting on what's happening outloud, but there isn't really that many questions popping up for me.

It's the delighted gasp and a "Bitch, you said WHAT? 8D".

It's the "Ohohohooooo this is going to h u r t".

It's the grimace or a snort of "You fucking bastard, I knew he was planning something."

With fics like that, I can sit still or do something that isn't too demanding attention wise.

It's relaxing. It's nice, it let's my usually very active and overwhelmed brain rest, WHILE ALSO giving me serotonin and the excitement/feels, but on a smaller scale.

With fics like this (especially one shots), I tend to leave shorter comments, because if I want to comment, but don' t have much to say, I'll still comment and tell what the fic made me feel.

"I liked/loved/really enjoyed this fic, it had me experience x"

Because I do like it! And so far almost every fic I read gets atleast one kudos because this stuff is so good and the authors are amazing.

I just don't have much to say at that moment. Or what I want to comment is missing something and feels too flat to me.

If I know I'll want to reread a fic, I usually bookmark it and write down some highlights/what I liked about it/make a comment of its own in the bookmark! Because looking at older bookmarks/bookmarks from a fandom you are no longer involved with can bring back quite the laughter... AND get you back into the fandom even!

Reading fics is supposed to be a thing you enjoy. If you are starting to dread it because you feel obligated to say something, hey.

Take a step back for a while. This kind of fear happened to me at some point when I was younger, especially when I started interacting with active content creators. They appreciate comments and those comments help so much when an obstacle presents itself and it seems like abandoning a story will be it. Comments and encouragment bring back the fire and joy of writing.

There is a comment I have yet to reply to, that's been sitting in my Ao3 inbox for 160 days (ALMOST 6 MONTHS, MOCA, GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER AND REPLY ALREADY!).

It's from an author who really wasn't feeling motivated and the comment brought them such joy and excitement!

Why is it taking me so long to reply?

I never expect/wait for a reply from authors. ESPECIALLY not if it's a fic that's older (there are some amazing fics that were posted in 2013!!! Who knows if the author is still active in the fandom!*), or if it's an ongoing one that gets alot of comments. In the second case, it's because the author is already writing the fic, editing said fic and uploading it, could also be working on a bunch of different fics (because writting inspiration strikes at the weirdest of moments and as someone who has around 4fic ideas happening simultaniously, people who ACTUALLY WRITE THEM? Kudos. You are amazing.), not to mention most fic authors do this in their free time. So there's also their jobs, social circle outside the internet, on the internet and the amount of energy they have for social interaction with strangers online. Who am I to expect a reply to that behemot of a comment I left on their fic? If it made them happy, great! If it made them go "woah, that's alot of words" *shrugs*, eh. I am a rambler, it's what I do, if they like it they like it, if they don't they don't. Not much i can do about that, though I did leave a note on my ao3 profile that they can contact me if long comments/ramblings annoy them, so I can stay off their comment section and scream about my love for their works somewhere else. Noone has asked me to stop as of yet, but I like to offer just in case.

Most of my comments are actually posted as if I was at cafe or a restaurant, and was offered the Book of Complaints, Suggestions and Compliments/Thanks.

Complaints? I don't have complaints to leave, because it's my decision on what content I consume, and if I don't like it, I can always search for something else.

And if I didn't read the tags? Well, that's on me. That's like ordering a new dish when you have a food allergy, not reading the provided and highlighted allergen notes and warning, and then screaming at the staff when your food arrives. It's not THEIR job to know what kind of allergies their customers have. It's the customers.

Suggestions? Is the author asking for those? If not, no suggestions from me! If they do ask, and I don't have an answer I usually take some time to see if I have anything to offer.

Compliments/Thanks. That is the thing I love and what I click the comment box for. If a fic made me FEEL something, I will let the author know.

Do you know how amazing it is to read a fic and sit staring off into space after you finish it because "woah... that. That made me feel so much at once that I can't even name it." ?

When you read a crackfic, and keep snickering and chuckling, before you finally burst out in laughter or wheezing or snorting with tears in the corners of your eyes because "OH THIS GOLD, I haven't laughed like this in a while!" ?

When you read angst that tugs at your heartstrings and causes actual tears to run down your face and feel the anguish the characters feel?

When you read angst, but the story has a happy ending? Any you get to see the characters claw their way towards it, and actually reach it?

When you read hurt/comfort and there is that gentle care and love and safety that makes your heart melt?

When you read a fic that feels like sitting by a window with a cup of warm coffee while relaxing music plays? (this last one is becoming my favourite of them all and is actually the one I struggle to comment on the most.)

There is such a variety of works out there! So many talented and amazing writers, with their AUs and a billion different ways of writing!

3. I am a very forgetful person, who has to check her inbox more often. Plain and simple. Nothing more to it.

4. Some of these authors write back such lovely comments that make me smile everytime I open my inbox. I think I might make a scrapbook of some sort, to keep track of them, because getting the feedback of "HEY YOUR COMMENT MADE ME HAPPY/EXCITED!" or "I really appreciated this comment, thank you." makes me smile. ^u^

Seriously fic authors are amazing, and this is why "Kudos to them." has become a thing I say irl as well, and in any conversation where someone creating a thing is brought up. I may not know or have a strong opinion on the stuff someone enjoys creating, or have nothing to really say, so "Woah, Kudos to them." is my way of saying "I admire their work (but don't have anything else to say about it)."

Learning it means Glory? Hell yes, those works are worthy of praise,and the authors really are glorious.

So here's where that lovely button comes in.

Kudos

I use the kudos button both when I have a comment to write and when I don't. I spam that button when I like something so much words fail me, and I click it when a fic reads like I have just finished a cup of coffee.

If I use the cafe/restaurant thing I talked about before as an example, leaving a kudos, to me, is like giving a smile or replying to the waiter with "It was great." when they asked if you enjoyed it.

I enjoyed it, but I don't have anything else to say.

Maybe it was just an interesting read, even if not to my usual tastes. It might get a kudos.

And if I read something that I thought I would like but it turned out I didn't like it or I felt meh abput it?

Well, *shrugs* well.

I don't have anything nice to say, and I probably won't read stuff from that author. There are others who will and others who will leave a kudos.

I don't think much about it because I read fics for fun.

I ramble about them because I am having fun and finally know I can share my experience with others.

You guys have probably seen the "Holy shit two cakes!" comic, which was originally about how artists/writers feel bad when creating something with a concept that many other more skilled creators used.

I remember that comic at some point also being used to explain that "It really sucks when you bake a cake, but noone wants to eat it."

I can't speak as a writer, because I don't post the fics I daydream about (yet! I don't post them yet!), but here's a little thing my daydreamer self likes to think.

I baked my cake, and I can eat it too, but I hope the cafe I frequent has something similar too.

Translated?

I wanted to read a fic like this, I made a fic with the idea I wanted, I enjoyed the process and the result, but I sure do hope someone else also makes a similar fic in the future.

I do however mostly daydream my fic ideas. So again. These are just my thoughts on the whole thing that is Comment > Kudos/Like > Reading > Not Reading

#moca talks #fanfiction #Comments #Kudos #kudos to the writers #And kudos to folks who leave comments #And a kudos for the kudos givers #Long post #Like... One of the longest ones I've written I think

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