#i do think that while yes in real life the hiding of books is evil and bad and you shouldnt do that

[sieglinde-freud]

taking my time with three houses since its been a while, exploring everything, and i actually went to the library to read (shocking!), and man i forgot how much i enjoy the depth of lore in this game. i know that with detailed lore comes the unfortunate years of discourse, but putting that aside this shit is so cool. now i need to get past the mock battle so i can go to the sewers and read all the books seteth banned. what are you hiding mr sexy green man…..

[timeloop-angel]

Dude I'm reading this self help book called "The Art of Loneliness" and dont get me wrong, there are many parts that are good. But there also parts like this:

That makes me raise my eyebrows. Thats a lot of assumptions there ma'am

[moonxmagix]

Daddy's Girl NSFW

Pairing: Frank Iero x Fem Reader

CW: Age gap, teacher frank, student reader, light smut, daddy issues, soft frank, underage drinking, mentions of the word daddy, def sexual tension

Summary: Frank is your teacher and you two hit it off. Y/N has heavy daddy issues and Frank takes you in. He treats you like what your childhood self deserved, safety and love.

A/N: This is VERY long. I wrote 11 pages on Google Docs so I'm very sorry LMAO. It might be a bit wordy and not super smutty if thats okay. I wanted to write something softer in nature. Also apologize if there are any grammar mistakes. :)

Reblogs appreciated!

~^~^~^~^

As I sat there in an uncomfortable school chair, surrounded by the ghosts of my past, I stared out the window that was covered in rain. The day was gloomy, constant thundering and on and off downpour. I tapped my foot up and down while playing with my bunny keychain as my anxiety washes over me. School always made me anxious and hate myself, constantly feeling at battle with myself and others. 

It was my senior year and I just turned 18, so all I had to do was wait to get out of here. Kinda like prison if you think about it. Our school had uniforms and if anything that was the best  part about this place, not to mention it looked like some old money school for rich kids. Which was funny because a lot of the kids here come from nothing, like me. 

My drug addicted mother raised me semi alone, meaning that she constantly had men in and out of her life. My real father left when I was only a few months old so I never had that strong, protective father figure in my life. I craved someone to love me, hold me tight, whatever fathers do with their daughters. My moms boyfriends that were long term, aka 6 months, would try their best to be there for me but as soon as I got comfortable with them they were gone. 

I tried to stay out of relationships out of fear that the same cycle would happen to me. 

“Y/N? Are you listening?” Mr. Iero said, pulling me out of my daze. My head quickly turned to him, almost embarrassed, “Yes sir, sorry.” He turned back to board, continuing the lesson. Mr. Iero was my english/music teacher, he taught both. The first day I walked into his class I had a massive crush on, like journaling and daydreaming about him crush. I never made advances to him because what would he think?

I can’t get him in trouble and I can’t jeopardize my education for some man. I once again zoned out heavily, staring out the window. I watched as a father checked out his daughter early for school it seems, hugging each other under the umbrella as they smiled together. I sighed, rolling my eyes at the sight. Almost disgusting to me but that's just the jealousy getting to me.

“Y/N? Please pay attention, we have an important test coming up and you can’t miss this,” he sighed, putting a hand on his hip. Everyone turned to stare at me as I got smaller in my seat. When I looked back at everyone else to me they had dark eyes, something evil brewing but also something dead. I know realistically that a lot of the people here never paid attention but were much better at hiding it I think. 

“Please see me at the end of school,” he said and a few people let “Ooo” escape their mouths. Thanks Mr. Iero for embarrassing me. I wanted to hate him for that but another part of my brain desired to have that alone time with him. Even a hug from him would suffice my animalistic hunger for him. Just, “I’m proud of you,” would motivate me for the rest of the year. 

Class was dismissed and I quickly got out of there but he caught my wrist before I could, “Promise me you’ll be here after school. You can’t ditch like the last time.” I nodded and promised him that I would be back. The last time that happened I left out of pure anxiety, I threw up in the hallway on my way to his class. But safe to say this time I could get myself through it. 

I went to my locker to change out books and my best friend Livvy came up to me, “Wanna hang out after school? I wanna get coffee,” she said excitedly. “Maybe, Mr. Iero wants to see me after my last class,” I said, I didn’t want to disappoint her. “Omg again? Did you space out again (nickname)?” she said, lightly punching my arm. 

“Yeah, I just hope it’s quick. If so, I’ll make sure to call you when I’m done,”  I said with a smile. We said our goodbyes as I went to all of my other classes. I watched the clock as it quickly rang, I took a few deep breaths as I prepared myself to see Mr. Iero. I know it couldn’t be that bad but my anxiety tried to convince me otherwise. 

I looked through the glass of the door and saw no one inside so I thought maybe this could be my excuse as to why I didn’t show. “Right on time!” a voice behind me said. It startled me so I turned to see that it was Mr. Iero. I softly smiled as he unlocked the door to let us in. I didn’t see it but I heard him lock the door behind me. 

I stood in front of his desk leaning against a student's desk. He stood in front of me also leaning against his desk. I kept my eyes to the ground for the most part, “Are you okay? You’ve been very quiet and dazed in almost every class,” he said in a soft voice. My tense shoulders relaxed, still not sure how to respond, “You can tell me, Y/N.” He took a couple steps closer. 

“Look at me,” he said in a more demanding tone. I looked at him and he smirked, I wanted to fall to my knees right then and there. He rolled up his sleeves to reveal his tattoos, “I..I’ve just been going through a lot at home,” I said to put it simply. “Sit, let’s talk about it,” he said sitting in the students chair next to me. I sat down hesitantly, I don’t know if he actually cared about me or what. I guess we’ll find out. 

I told him about my mom and everything that I’ve been struggling with. I didn’t outright tell him about my struggles with men and not having a father figure of sorts. But he’s smart, so he could probably piece things together based on  how I answered some of his questions. At the end of my story I let a few tears escape from my eyes, he reached his hand up and gently wiped them. 

He placed his other hand on my knee, rubbing his thumb on it. “You have nothing to worry about with me hun,” he said sweetly, maintaining tense eye contact. He was such a good listener and never interrupted me. “Your secrets are safe with me, I’m so glad you’re finally opening up to me. Since the beginning of the year I’ve had my eye on you, there’s something special about you, Y/N,”  he said, whispering the last sentence. 

He grabbed my hand and held it tightly in his. I felt my face heat up like a thousand suns and my heart rate picked up. I couldn’t help but let a smile form on my face, “That’s my girl. No need to be sad when you’re around me. Hey, I’ll even move your desk closer up to mine, yeah?” I nodded, feeling like such a typical schoolgirl. 

He looked at the clock, “I should probably let you go now. Here,’ he said, handing me a little piece of paper. I pocketed it in my bag and before I left he gave me a big, warm hug. The smell of cigarettes and cologne hit my nostrils, it was a smell so intoxicating that it would stay with me throughout the rest of the day. I left and ran out of there to my house, it downpoured on me though. It made me feel like I was in a movie of sorts, I let the rain fall and drench my uniform and hair.

I ran inside and went straight to my room to text Livvy, it was Friday so I told her to come spend the night with me. I really didn’t want to tell anyone about what happened but she was the only person I could trust with this information, she understood. She literally has a sugar daddy, she has no room to judge me! 

Livvy came over and got settled right in with snacks and cute pajamas. “Tell me everything!” she said excitedly. I giggled, “He asked me if anything was wrong, I avoided but he pried so I spilled everything. And now he’s moving my desk up to his, he touched my leg and hugged me!” We were both laughing and blushing over this. 

“Oh! I think he gave me his number,” I told her, remembering the paper he gave me that I still haven’t opened yet. “Bitch show me!” she said excitedly. I got the paper from my bag and counted down from 3, I opened it and it had his number inside. “Text him now!” she said getting my phone from my nightstand. 

I input his number into my phone, “What do I say though?” I bit my nails. “Something flirty for sure,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. I started to type: hii its Y/N, miss our time together already xo 

“Bitch that's good!! He’s bound to fall in love with you now,” she joked. 

Hours went by without checking my phone and it was around 8pm. I checked my phone during our movie and he asked to call me, I sat up straight with my eyes wide. “He wants to call,” I said suddenly. “Oh shit! I’ll turn the tv down and I’ll stay quiet,” she shushed herself. 

I gave the phone a ring and he picked it up almost instantly, I put it on speaker phone. 

Frank: Doing okay? 

Me: yeah, thanks for letting me vent. Made me feel a lot better 

Frank: I’m glad, honey. 

Livvy looked at me with shock, “Honey?!” she mouthed covering it with her hand. 

Frank: Um, I wanted to ask if you wanna hang out tomorrow? You don't have-

Me: Yes. I’d love to! 

Frank: What time are you free then?

Me: Umm maybe around 12?

Frank: Sounds like a date then

We both hung up and we’re screaming with joy, I never thought this day would come. Hanging out with a teacher outside of school? Is that legal? I couldn’t back out now, my fate was decided. “What am I gonna wear?” I said, asking Livvy for help. She’s always been the cooler one in terms of fashion, so I can trust her to dress me. 

~^~^~^~^

It was 10 am and I had just the right amount of time to get ready. I checked my phone and he said he’d be picking me up at my place. Livvy left already and I sat down in front of my floor length mirror and put on light makeup. I got dressed in a black skirt, sheer black leggings, doc martens, and a white and black striped sweater. 

The clock finally turned 12 and I looked out my window to not see a car yet. I sighed with relief because in reality I definitely didn't feel ready. I checked my phone and Mr. Iero said he would be there in 5. I went ahead and stood out front to wait for him. 

His car pulled up and he got out to greet me, “Wow, you look great!” he said with a smile. He had on sunglasses and chewed his gum kinda obnoxiously but hot. He gave me a big hug and opened the door for me, his car was super clean surprisingly. “Where are we going?” I ask timidly. 

“Downtown, get some coffee and donuts,” he smiled, placing his hand on my thigh. “How’d you know where my house was?” I asked. “Teachers have access to those kinds of things,” I just nodded in response staring out the window. It was pretty cloudy and I was kinda hoping it’d rain. 

We got to the coffee  place downtown, “This is my special spot, for a special girl,” he smirked. I felt my stomach overfill with butterflies and a sparked joy I didn’t know I could feel around  somebody. He got out the umbrella and interlocked arms with me, I looked at him with such content but confusion. I felt like I didn’t deserve any of this, none of the kindness, none of the listening, nothing. 

He told me to sit down at a booth while he ordered us stuff. I texted Livvy while sitting there: 

Me: Liv i think im in love no joke 

Liv: i would be too 

Me: were getting coffee rn ill update soon 

He came back and sat a delicious smelling coffee in front of me, “Thank you Mr. Iero,” I said. “Call me Frank, no need for that outside of school,” he said, he grabbed my hand that was on top of the table. I looked at him, blushing hard, what if someone saw us? 

We talked about the things we both liked and hated, we actually had a lot in common. “You like Elvis?!” he said, shocked. “Yeah and?! It’s a comfort thing,” I defended. “Explain,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Sometimes when my mom was out I’d spend the night with my grandfather and in the morning while cooking breakfast he’d play Elvis,”  I said, reminiscing when I actually had a somewhat stable relationship with a man. 

I think Frank noticed my mood diminish into something solemn. “Let's grab those donuts, I have somewhere else I wanna show you,” he said, grabbing my hand. He showed me off proudly, it felt like he was telling everyone around him to look at me but not in the way I’m used to. He put his mouth close to my ear, “We’ll have to share a donut, they’re almost out of everything,” he said, placing a kiss on my cheek. 

We walked under the umbrella together as we started to share the donut, “Don’t lift a finger princess,” he said while holding the donut up to my mouth. He basically gave me the whole thing while he only had a couple bites. “Why do you treat me like this?” I asked him, curious as to why he is so fond of treating me like…a girlfriend? 

“I think you deserve it, Y/N. I’ll explain more later,” he said with such sincerity, gripping my hand tighter. Was this going to be a whole day affair? My mom hasn’t been home for a few days so I didn’t feel the need to tell her where I was, it wasn’t like she was answering my messages anyway!

“What’s wrong hun?” he said, taking down the umbrella as the rain had stopped and the sun came out. “My mom hasn't answered my messages, it's been days,” I said, a little disappointed. “I’ll look after you, don't worry about it,” he said as we showed up to a record store. I gasped as I could never afford to buy my own records, it felt like a dream. 

We went inside and looked around, I looked around for a ‘The Cure’ album. As I kept looking I felt a body press up behind me and place their arms around my waist and a head on my shoulder. He placed soft kisses on my neck causing me to giggle, I felt him do the same in my neck. “Find what you need?” he asked. “Yeah, did you?” his hands were empty. “Yeah,” he smiled playfully like he was up to something but not sure what. 

“Bullshit. You need to get something or else I’ll feel bad that you spent all your money on me,” I said feeling slight guilt about him buying things for me. “I have you, that’s all I need,” he said, pulling me to the register and pulls out his card faster than I can reach for my purse zipper. 

He handed me the bag of my records and we left. We didn’t do anything much except go thrifting and it was already 7 PM. “I have one place left to go,” he smiled, pulling out of the spot. “I feel like we’ve been everywhere already,” I said, whining. “Be a good girl and don’t whine for me, okay?” that immediately put me in my place and I complied. I could see a smirk on his face, he knew what he did to me. 

I heard a song on the radio that I liked and immediately turned it up, it was You Get Me So High by The Neighbourhood. “You like them?” he asked. “Love them! I’ve seen them in concert  twice already,” I said proudly. Livvy knew I couldn’t afford it but she ever so kindly  bought them for me. 

After a short drive we made it to our destination, a bar. It was quite crowded, I wasn't even old enough to drink yet. I looked at him worried, “I’m not 21..” I said. “I can get you in darling, don’t worry,” he said reassuringly. I trusted him but I tightened my lips anxiously. He was able to get me in because he was close friends with the guy at the front. 

We got in and the music was at a comfortably loud volume. He dragged me to the bar and ordered me a drink but I couldn’t tell you what it was. Tasted great though! 

I downed a couple drinks and I basically became a melting mess in Frank's hands. I held onto  him for dear life like someone was trying to pull me away from him. I dragged him outside for a cigarette break, I pulled them out of bag and I forgot my lighter, “I forgot my fuckin lighter.” He laughed at my tone and lit my cigarette for me. 

We stood inches apart, he held my waist with his tattooed hand. I took a huff of my cig and blew it in his face, “Naughty girl,” he chuckled. He pulled me in to kiss him and our lips collided. The taste of cigarettes and alcohol mixed perfectly with each other. I wrapped my arms around his neck, not wanting to release. 

I shared my cigarette with him and he whispered in my ear, “How about you come over to my place for the night?” My heart was beating out of its chest, “Are you sure that's okay? I would need to get my stuff at home,” I said. “We can stop by your place first baby, I do have a few room-mates if that’s okay,” he said looking away embarrassed. “More the merrier!” I joked. 

We drove back to my place and I led him up to my room, he sat on my bed and I packed up a couple things. I turned around putting my hands on my hips, “All packed,” I smiled. He patted his hand insinuating for me to sit on his lap, so I did. I wrapped my arms around his neck, “My pretty girl,” he whispered while pushing my hair out of my face. 

“I really don’t understand why you like me, Frank,” I said, that feeling of undeservingness washing over me. “Look at you Y/N!. What is there not to like about you? We have so much in common and I can’t get over how beautiful you are,” I need all the reassurance I can get. What if he leaves me? Would another man treat me like Frank does? 

“Do you promise not to leave?” I asked tearfully. “What? Of course I do, Y/N. How could I do that to you sweetheart?” he said, hugging me tightly. “We should get going,” he said softly. I nodded and he grabbed my bags for me as we walked back to the car. 

We got to Frank's place and it was dimly lit, it smelled of cigarettes and expensive musky candles. I saw band equipment set up, “What’s all this?” I asked. “Oh, me and my friends do gigs on the side,” he chuckled as we walked to the kitchen. A timid man turned around to greet us, he gave Frank a hug and gave me a handshake. Firmly. 

“Nice to meet you,” I said shyly. “Franks said a lot about you, nice to meet you,” he smiled kindly and I furrowed my brows a little confused. He talks about me? What did he say? More  questions to be answered. 

Frank hurried me to his room, it was spacious and had a few of his guitars displayed on the walls. He disappeared for a second and brought back a shirt and pajama pants of his, “Put these on,” I took them. I went into the bathroom bringing my toiletries along with me. I changed into his oversized clothes and  washed my face. 

I brought out my phone and snapped a pic of me in the mirror sending it to Livvy. She replied almost instantly: not you going home with him !! be safe !! she replied.

I went back out and put my other clothes back in my bag, “You have such a nice room,” I complimented. “Biggest one in the house,” he brags. I hadn’t noticed before but he turned the radio on and it was on a classic rock station. The room was filled with cigarette smoke and incense. Lamps created the perfect sensual ambience. 

I laid my head on his soft pillows and Frank hovered over me, caressing my face with his hand. Something came over me, my eyes filled with tears and escaped the corner of my eyes. “What’s wrong princess?” he said, worried. I shook my head, sobbing. Never was I good enough to ever receive a love like this before. Here I had it. 

“Tell daddy what’s wrong princess,” that broke me. I couldn’t tell if I was imagining all of this or if it was some sick joke. I straddled his lap, crying into his shoulder. His hand rubbed up and down my back sensually. “I’ve never felt such an overwhelming amount of love and adoration from a man before,” I stated plainly. 

He asked me to talk about it so I did. I told him about the men this time, while I did we drank. It got to the point where I only started seeing flashes of my surroundings. One minute I was taking off my clothes, then I was sitting on top of Frank, then throwing my head back and moaning. 

I remember seeing Frank go down on me and him forcing my legs open as I was ready to release on his face. Flashes of Frank saying things like, “You're daddy’s good girl…I’ll never hurt you…you’re safe with me…shh you’re okay sweetheart.” His voice vibrated through my skin. 

Soon enough I passed out, naked and covered up by the warm sheets. I woke up groggy and still a little drunk around 3 am and had my clothes put back on. I groaned and didn’t see Frank in bed with me but playing guitar across the room. “Frank?” I said, rubbing my eyes. He immediately rushed to my side to comfort me, “Are you okay princess?” he said. 

I nodded, “Could you get me some water?” I asked because my voice was hoarse. He brought back water to me and I downed it as fast as I could. He got into bed with me and I cuddled up at his side, holding on for life. 

I grabbed Frank's face pressing our lips together, I longed for his kiss and his desire. He pulled away and cupped my face, “If you were my little girl, I’d do whatever I could do for you,” he said softly. “I am,” I stated so desperately wanting him to take me in, live with him, devote my life to him. “I’d even run away and hide with you if I could. You’re daddy’s girl,” he said pulling me into his chest. 

To be safe and sound in his heart forever. 

[ggomos-maribat]

A Real One for Christmas

Cross posted from AO3

You know, when I said I was ready to return the favor,

I didn't expect it to be like this

Pleaseeee? 🥺🥺🥺

It's just for one Christmas dinner

EVERYONE has their own boyfriend or girlfriend now

And Ma and Pa's been asking when I'm getting together with someone

you're overlooking something here

your best friend knows me

how do we explain that to them?

we just tell them the truth

we met online and hit it off

uh huh

he won't ask questions in front of the family

i think

i can think of a million reasons how this can go wrong

it won't🙂

wow that smiling face is really assuring

that's good ^ _^

seriously?

another question..

am I supposed to know about your powers?

that's the fun part

if they know you're a 'civilian'

they'll be fighting to hide their powers

and/or tech

thru the whole dinner

you're actually evil

haha

this is me getting back at them

so i'll fly you on the 20th?

i can't fly with you

you need to book me a flight, im in Paris

France

Europe

Or else they'll be suspicious

Right

I'll ask Dad to help get you one

What about HM?

I'll make a prediction here and say that he won't be attacking a few days before christmas

cause he'll do it on christmas

but just in case, I can bring Kaalki or you can fly me

or I can ask Chat to cover for me

okay

see you :3

hey, this makes YOU owe me a favor

but this is your return

this isnt equal to what u did

it is :3

Marinette sighed and flopped on her bed as she threw her phone to her side. Meeting Jon Kent had been both luck and misfortune for her. One day, he was just a cute stranger she met after a boredom-filled night and then the next, they had accidentally found each others' identities when Superboy happened to pass by Paris.

She dragged out a groan. What on earth was Jon even thinking with that charade? They were facing a family of Kryptonians and detectives for crying out loud. 

"What's the matter, Marinette?" Tikki flew in munching on her last cookie crumb. 

"That was a very regretful groan." 

She screamed when she saw her partner's head pop through her open skylight. A pillow was instinctively thrown at Chat, who dodged it effortlessly. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" she glanced warily at her trapdoor, hoping her parents wouldn't come rushing in. 

Chat dropped down on her bed and stretched. "Meowch. Can't I visit my dearest friend every now and then?" 

"I think Marinette has a predicament," Tikki tattled as she nestled on top of Chat's head. 

"Oooh, what predicament? Do share, M'lady." 

Seven pieces of cookies, two more woeful groans and a story later, Chat was laughing out loud. 

"You think this is funny?" Marinette scowled. 

"I'm sorry," Chat wheezed, not at all sounding remorseful. "But you and I have read enough fanfiction to know where this is going." 

"But this is not fanfiction. This is real life." 

"And in real life," the black-clad hero sang, "Jon Kent likes you."  

Marinette scoffed. It wasn't that easy of course. Jon was one charming smile after another, targeting her unsuspecting feelings while not knowing anything.  

"So?"  

"So. . .?" Chat cocked his head.  

"What about Hawkmoth?"  

"Him? I can take care of the city while you're out," he replied. "You go enjoy your little Christmas getaway while I—"  

"Should we exchange our Miraculouses?" Marinette asked her kwami.  

Tikki gave a half shrug, "I don't mind joining Adrien for a while."  

"Yes! Two days with no cheese smell!"  

---

The flight to America was uneventful, but the car ride to Kents' was. Jon had reminded her before and after her trip that he and Conner were picking her up. She'd lied to him over text, saying that she wasn't nervous at all, but her rapid-beating heart was betraying her.  

And Plagg wouldn't shut up about it. And asking her for a charcuterie board at dinner.  

She could only make a futile attempt to control her heartbeat in the old farm truck with two Superboys.  

"Marinette, was it?" Conner smiled at her through the rearview mirror.  

"Uh . . . Yeah." She squirmed. Jon squeezed her hand. She squirmed some more.  

"By the way, Dad wanted to pick you up instead of Conner but he has dinner duties," Jon explained, "He told me to tell you."  

"It's okay. I'm thankful he paid for the flight and everything."  

"Jon told me you met online," Conner pressed, earning a frown from Jon. "He wouldn't elaborate."  

"We just started off as chat buddies and the next thing I know we were getting closer and he asked me out."  

"Hm that's interesting." A slight smirk popped up on Conner's lips. "Jon's never mentioned you before." 

"This is exactly why," Jon pouted. "You'll scare her off."  

A fake gasp. "Moi? I'm just a guy from Smallville. No one too special."  

"Eyes on the road, Kon. And don't go too fast, this isn't your motorcycle."  

"So how did Lois react when she found out?" 

Marinette saw Jon shudder under his holiday sweater. "She was furious."  

She paled. "Your mom got mad?"  

"I should've seen that coming anyway, because I never told them." Jon raised his hands. "Not your fault, though! Mom's excited to meet you."  

"How exactly did you meet?"  

"Kon. Questions later. Focus on driving, jeez."  

Marinette swallowed. If they had to pull off the act in front of Jon's family, she had to step up. "It's okay, Jon." She touched his arm. "We met in an online chatroom and we've been talking ever since." 

"Tinder? Grindr?"  

"Kon!" Jon's cheeks turned into a deep shade of red. "Can we talk about something else? What about you and Tim? Talk about that."  

"Me and Tim?" Conner smiled widely, almost evilly. "You want to talk about us? Tonight we're going to make lo—"  

"Okay, okay! Not that!" Jon raised his voice. He turned to Marinette. "Sorry."  

She squeezed the side of her bag which was starting to shake from Plagg's giggles. "It's okay. I promise."  

"You shouldn't have come—" 

"Hey, no, we already agreed to this, didn't we?" Marinette smiled shyly. "We're doing this dinner."  

Withholding a smirk, she laughed. "And it's not like I can fly back to France in a minute." 

And to this, Conner's eyes widened as the car swerved sharply to another lane.  

----

Lois Lane was first to tackle her as soon as she stepped through the front door. She stumbled back a bit, but managed to return the tight hug.  

"Marinette! I'm happy you can make it." She turned her head briefly to the commotion behind her. "I have to apologize—we're not yet done with the preparations."  

Marinette could see half of the Wayne family staring at her curiously from the kitchen. She pretended not to notice as Jon took her coat. "It's alright, Ms. Lane. If there's anything I can help with—"  

"No, you're our guest! You can sit here first and the table will be set in a few minutes." The reporter hurried her to a comfy couch in the living area. "And please, call me Lois."  

"Thank you . . . Lois."  

Jon leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Dad needs me to help with a few things. Will you be okay on your own?"  

She took his hand gently. "Of course. Go."  

He gave her one charming smile before going. At the same time, others came filing in . . .  

. . . And an arrow sailed past her head and into the wall.  

"ROY!"  

"That is my new—ow!"  

A blue-eyed man snatched the small contraption from the archer, glaring at him pointedly. 

"We have a guest, idiot." Another man strolled into the room.  

Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Jason Todd, Marinette made her guesses. Jon had already told her all about them, even going as far as to share their quirks and personalities. Nightwing, Arsenal, Red Hood.  

"I am so sorry!" Roy's eyes went wide. "It was for my . . . Er—archery competition!"  

Jason smacked him.  

"Didn't we already tell you about this?" Dick hissed while pulling out the arrow from the wall.  

Roy mumbled a response that Marinette couldn't make out.  

"Really really sorry for that." Dick turned to her. "Are you hurt anywhere?"  

"I'm good!" Marinette assured before their arguments worsened. "It didn't hit me."  

"Good." Dick glared at Roy again. "I'm Dick, and these are Roy and Jason."  

"It's nice to meet you," she smiled sheepishly.  

"Guys, you're crowding around the poor girl." A woman in a wheelchair entered, and the others gave her space.  

"Hi, I'm Barbara, you can call me Babs." The woman offered a welcoming smile which Marinette returned. At that moment, more people were ushered into the living room, by the Wayne's butler who was brandishing a spatula and muttering about banning them from the kitchen.  

Marinette felt a chill down her spine.  

There, at the corner of her eye, he was staring at her. Calculatingly.  

Crap, he definitely recognizes me.  

She pulled out her phone and sent a quick message to Jon.  

---

The Kents and Waynes (read: Alfred) didn't disappoint with the food. Marinette realized how hungry she was when she gazed at the dining table.  

"You have to try Ma's apple pie," Jon whispered next to her. "I bet your bakery can't compare."  

"I'll be the judge of that," Marinette rolled her eyes. She settled next to Jon, across from Clark and Lois. Damian was diagonal from her, making it more difficult to avert her gaze.  

After the setting of the table, passing of bowls, picking up of servings, Clark made small talk within the light chatter.  

"So Marinette, what do you like to do?" Clark asked.  

"Art. Designing," she replied, "Helping my parents bake."  

"Oh come on," said Jon, "Marinette is a prodigy. She's been recognized by Gabriel Agreste and Audrey Bourgeois gave her an offer once."  

"Big names in fashion," Bruce Wayne commented, sending Marinette into a blush, "That's impressive."  

Jon piped up again before she could kick him under the table. "Her designs are amazing. And Jagged Stone regularly commissions her for concert pieces."  

"Wagged Shtone?" 

"Master Timothy, please don't talk while eating."  

"You know Jagged Stone?!" Tim gaped at her after swallowing down his food.  

"Jon's exaggerating." Marinette tucked her hair behind her ear, "It was just a few pieces for his concert."  

"Don't downplay it, Mars, you're talented," Jon smiled gently.  

"Looks like you're very proud of Marinette," said Lois.  

"O—of course I am! She's my girlfriend after all."  

"Well, I'm happy Jon brought a wonderful girl home," Ma Kent beamed, handing Marinette another piece of baked lasagna.  

"Can you get me an autograph from Jagged?" Roy asked.  

"Me first!" Tim cut in.  

"I'd like one too," Kara joined in.  

Marinette laughed nervously, "I'm sure I can get one for everyone." She glanced to her side. "Umm . . . Conner are you okay?"  

He continued rubbing his shoulder. "Yeah, someone threw a tree at me too hard while we were collecting firewood."  

An invisible tension (which Marinette purposefully ignored) swept across the room. Beside her, Jon spoke up. "Hey, I said I was sorry!"  

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows, resisting a laugh when she saw the semi-panicked faces of the others. "Jon threw a tree at you?"  

Tim conspicuously kicked Conner's leg below the table.  

"A tree! Yeah!" Conner's eyes widened. "We collect tiny trees for firewood! Really tiny ones!"  

"Oh. . .?"  

"Please ignore him." Tim kicked his boyfriend again. "Mari, tell us about Paris!"  

---

"Chilly night, huh?" 

Marinette could've sworn she jumped to the ceiling as she yelped at the voice. She'd step out into the front porch to get some air as the families cleaned up after dinner inside. She didn't expect the girl who Damian had brought to come approach her. 

"Yeah, really cold," Marinette saw her breath fog up. She hugged herself, feeling Rachel stare directly at her. 

Rachel had been quiet during dinnertime, but she wasn't a forgettable presence. Marinette knew about her as well (even before she knew about the Kents) because of a mission (more accurately, a snooping errand) assigned to her in the past. 

"Aren't you cold too?" Marinette rubbed her palms together. 

"I do well with the cold," the girl replied. "Damian's been looking at you the whole night." 

Yeah, I noticed that too. 

"Really?" Marinette chuckled nervously, gazing elsewhere. 

"Yes. It seems like he knows you." 

"He must be mistaken . . ." 

"He isn't." Rachel shook her head. "I'm not sure why he's suspicious but I trust you." 

"Trust---huh?" 

"I can feel that you're good. Lucky even." A light smile was on her lips. "You're good for Jon." 

I thought the smell of cheese would've masked whatever luck Tikki gives me. "Thanks?" 

"I'm coming back inside. You?" 

"Uhh . . . I think I'll stay here for a bit." 

With a nod, Rachel walked back into the warm house. Marinette released a sigh of relief. Confirming that Damian did recognize and remember her brought back memories.  

She wasn't proud of her time in the League, but it wasn't something she can turn her back to either. Especially since she still had to be loyal to its heir. She let out another heavy sigh and— 

"AHH!" In a surge of alarm, Marinette threw whoever was behind her over her shoulder. She was suddenly met with familiar green eyes.  

"Oh . . . Amir . . . I'm so sorry!"  

"It's good to know you still have your reflexes." 

She winced as she helped Damian stand back up. 

"I will go straight to the point. What are you doing here?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Did my mother send you? Is the League looking for me?" 

Marinette huffed. "Okay, first of all, that is an insult to Lady Talia. If she wanted to see you, she'd do it herself. Not send me to go undercover in a Christmas dinner." 

Damian raised an eyebrow. 

"Secondly, I'm not here for anything but Jon. Because I'm his girlfriend," she emphasized. "It's just a coincidence and I even hoped you wouldn't try to talk to me." 

"So you have no business involving me?"  

"I don't." She glanced warily through the window of the house, wondering if Jon (or any of the Supers) was listening. "Jon is . . . he's really important to me. I like him." 

"Does that mean you know about . . .?"  

"Yeah, all of it." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "But don't tell anyone. Jon and I are waiting to see how long we can mess with them."  

"I see." Damian pursed his lips, putting on an expression that she knew meant that he was thinking deeply. "If Kent hurts you in any way, I have a stock of kryptonite." 

"Uhm . . . Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?"  

"No." A tight smile. "I . . . Apologize for misunderstanding. I just haven't seen you since the League fell."  

"I'm just in Paris, Amir." Her shoulders sagged. "Trying to live normally. Sorry I haven't reached out."  

"We should go back inside. You're shivering."  

Marinette followed Damian into the house just as her phone rang. She sucked in a breath, read the message and met Jon's eyes from across the room.  

He immediately went towards her and pulled her to the stairs, yelling, "We'll be in my bedroom, don't listen to us, okay, bye!"  

---

Jon had offered to take her at first, but she declined to protect their cover. She had taken the Horse Miraculous and rushed back to the Kents' using the space power-up. On a day when she thought Hawkmoth wouldn't strike, he akumatized poor August again. 

Marinette had exchanged Miraculouses with Chat during the battle. She sat on Jon's windowsill in her Cosmobug suit as she caught her breath.  

"I'm really sorry," she breathed out. "Did they ask questions?"  

"They think we're still locked up here so it's okay. How was the battle? Did you get hurt?" Jon scanned her for injuries.  

She held his shoulders. "I'm okay. It was a quick fight but I was worried I wouldn't make it back in time."  

He pulled her into a tight hug, eliciting another blush. "Sorry I made you stressed out."  

"Hey, it's me returning the favor, remember?"  

The first time they had met in person, Superboy was in Paris, encountered an akuma battle and accidentally found her identity. She'd made him promise not to tell anyone about what was happening in the city, but he promised to collect the debt.  

"And I really enjoyed tonight. Everyone was nice." Marinette grinned. "If not a bit too obvious with their identities."  

"Let me guess. Conner and Roy were the most careless."  

She giggled. "No, I saw Bruce pocketing a Batarang and Clark reheating the chicken with his heat vision."  

Jon laughed along with her, still not letting go from the hug. Marinette buried her face on his chest. I wish it would always be like this.  

"I wish it could always be like this," said Jon.  

"Hm?"  

Her earrings started beeping but she paid them no mind.  

"Like . . . Bringing you over. Spending time together," he mumbled. "but we can't. You're not . . . We're not . . ."  

She swallowed. "Do you want it to be real?"  

He pulled away a little, to look at her properly. "Do you?"  

Marinette bit her lip. It wasn't the best time. It could strain their friendship. We'll never talk again!  

"Yes, I want it to be real," she confessed. "I've . . . I've liked you for a while now." 

His eyes turned bright and the corners of his lips lifted.  "Really? Are you sure? Because I was scared you won't feel the same and I made it weird . . ."  

Her arms looped around his neck as she mirrored the elated look. "Nope." Her lips lightly touched his cheek. "I like you a lot, Jon."  

He was practically buzzing with excitement, which made her want to laugh. "Really? Like really, really?" He held her more tightly. "You want to be my real girlfriend?"  

"Of course I do—"  

The door clicked open. "MARINETTE! WE GOT YOU PRESENTS—!"  

A wave of light flashed and Marinette felt her transformation wear off and a drowsy Tikki floating at her side. Conner, Tim, Dick and Kara were staring slack-jawed at them, crowded around the door.  

Jon helped her down the windowsill. "Umm, we can explain?"  

[belit0]

AND IF THE SCENARIO WHERE READER TESTS THE LIMITS OF INDRA UNCONSCIOUSLY... DO YOU DO IT NSFW??? (i know, i'm a genius......or a masochist)

i really love how you write the personality of the characters (ESPECIALLY INDRA 💞💞💞) and you also give me good vibes and confidence AAA i love you, marry me

Thank you for your beautiful words, they reassure me to be doing the right thing with the kind of space I am trying to create on my blog, AND YES, WE ARE MARRIED IT'S OFFICIALLY OFFICIAL, PERIOD.

When I saw this order I literally screamed out loud because I thought it was amazing (but I couldn't do it right away because I had to give some love to Itachi 😭)

However, I don't know if this is… too much. Indra is the biggest villain in all my writing, and in this one, it's very evident.

nsfw version of this.

Huge TW: this is straight-up S,A (noncon) please, if you don't like this type of content, avoid this piece. It's raw.

(Y/N) feels real terror, almost as if his words were releasing an icy blast running through her body anxiously, a sudden emptiness in her stomach even worse than what she felt when seeing him enter the room. Time seems to stand still, as if Indra is waiting for a reaction, a misstep that will lead to her ruin.

"They forewarned you what might happen should you not listen to their advice, didn't they?" his words evoke the memory of the only woman who deigned to look her in the eye throughout the house, the only person who spoke directly to her when she arrived on the scene.

(Y/N) was wandering through the vastness of the home, and when she entered the library to browse through the myriad of books kept there, one of her personal maidservants dared to warn her regarding her alleged husband.

"Miss (Y/N)..." she had spoken, looking all around, afraid that someone would hear her, that someone would see her trying to communicate with the girl, "do not underestimate Lord Otsutsuki, he is a fearsome, ruthless, cruel man... please do not pursue him, you wish not to meet him!". She looked terrified, trembling from just putting his name in her mouth, as if trying to look small in size and hide among the objects in the room.

After finishing her admonition, she had run away, disappearing down one of the building's many corridors.

Her statement had stuck in her mind, etched in her memory, and after that occasion, she had never seen the servant again. Assuming that the woman had been assigned to some other task, or changed in position or responsibility, she now understood the terrible consequences the poor woman must have suffered just for trying to help her.

Indra is a monster.

"Perhaps I ought to taste how capable of a woman my wife is? It's about time, isn't it?" One of his hands releases her hair, sliding down the flat of her back and down to her waist, holding her and resting what looks like a hard object against her bottom.

"After all, we never had a wedding night." He lifts the robe (Y/N) is wearing, the Uchiha garment she was forced to dress in from the first day in her new home, and with both hands this time, effortlessly rips her underwear off.

"Please... Lord Otsutsuki, not like this..." She cries disconsolately, surrendered to the situation and knowing what is about to happen. Her only possible escape is to try and please his ears, to sweeten his being with obeyed orders and flattery to free herself from this. Never had she imagined her first time in such a way, let alone with the greatest tyrant on the face of the earth.

Finally understanding her poor servant's warnings, she sends a silent apology to the woman, wishing to think she still preserves her life.

"Lord Otsutsuki... please, (Y/N). My dear husband, if anything." She can hear the mocking tone in his voice, the sarcasm, as if he had a smile made up of pure evil on his face while pulling down his pants and readying himself for her entrance.

"The madder you quarrel the madder you will hurt, I hope now you comprehend there is no use wishing to move against me." He spreads her legs with terrifying force, and (Y/N) has no will to close them again. Trying to save herself from this would involve fighting, and what would the strength of an ordinary woman do against the most powerful man in the world? To want to avoid her bitter fate is buying a ticket to hell, with Indra being the one sending her there.

Completely dominated and with no escape from the bed, she listens as he spits on what is probably his hand, preparing something that will glide enough to enter her. Her body will not cooperate under these circumstances, totally blocked and without the slightest desire for what is about to happen to her.

"Isn't this preferable, (Y/N)? I overheard your whining about how little attention you were receiving, your prayers of how it would please you to have someone speaking to you, seeing you, listening to you. Here you have it, someone providing all you asked for, the least you can do is beg for it." Without thrusting in but resting the head against her buttocks, she can feel Indra touching himself, preparing to outrage her in the worst possible way.

"Please... don't..." She follows his orders, hoping he will have the slightest mercy not to proceed in this way, not to take her as if she were an object under violence and threats. They could have a splendid marriage, full of love, but the Otsutsuki chooses a path of disgrace and darkness, something she cannot understand no matter how hard she tries. Between tears and sobs, not daring to raise her head and face him, she pleads for her integrity, for her husband not to snatch away her first time in such a cruel way.

She hears him laugh, and knows it is all in vain.

Without warning, he opens her thighs with both hands and enters ferociously, penetrating her roughly and burying himself into her deepest point. The mixture of pain, physical and emotional, makes her cry out helplessly, wailing at the top of her lungs at her inability to do anything to protect herself.

He moves inside her, without concern for her body or mind, using her as he wishes, "Remember this, remember this for as long as you live. You are nothing, (Y/N), no... worse than nothing, at least nothingness itself has value. You? No... I will show you what value you have to me, I will give you a reason to be." He speaks as if she were his worst enemy, as if she had killed his entire family, as if she had betrayed him in the worst possible way.

Her body transforms under Indra's motives, using it as releasement regardless of consent or desire, regardless of what she intends, what she wants. She is nothing more than a piece of nothing in his eyes, a hole to use when he deems necessary, a container to procreate what will be their terrible children.

In shock, she no longer even records how the tears stream in droves down her face, causing her hair to stick to her cheeks and her skin to burn. She ignores all physical sensation, detaching herself from the situation and looking at it as if outside her body, in the third person. (Y/N) becomes a spectator to her own rape.

She sees herself moving her mouth, presumably pleading for her own sake, but cannot hear what she utters, unaware of her words, "Please... you don't have to keep doing this. I can't-"

"You're right. I don't have to stop. I don't wish to stop. You don't have to do anything though. You can lay there; scream and cry for all I fucking care. You'll get me off faster." He interrupts her abruptly, answering her attempts at liberation with harder movements, driving into her even more brutally.

All she feels is an overwhelming heat between her legs, a thick liquid that seems to keep pouring out and staining the sheets, generating a circle composed of a warm sensation under her pelvis.

The only thing she senses is the blood that Indra forces her to spill, painting everything with an intense red color, just like the one in his devilish eyes.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

New Year's Eve Kisses 2022

Note: Hello, friends, and Happy New Year! At long last, and for the third year in a row, I present to you, New Year’s Eve Drabbles! I tried to make reader gender neutral in all of these, aside from the Kili one, which is a continuation of The Book Keeper! It may also serve as an introduction for a possible sequel to that fic.

Fandoms: Stranger Things, MCU, Tolkien, Harry Potter (fuck JK Rowling; Trans Rights are Human Rights), Once Upon a Time

Total Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol (champagne, mostly), kissing (obviously), and two (2) marriage proposals. Also mentions of Eddie’s bat scars.

Eddie Munson

Word Count: 0.4k

Quite honestly, Eddie Munson didn’t think he’d live to see the end of 1986. It had had its ups and downs and its Upside Downs, but through it all, he’d had you right at his side, his second-in-command, his cleric, and, in real life, the very person who’d saved his life and ensured he’d live to see 1986 fade into 1987.

You and Eddie had been friends since elementary school. You’d been bullied as a kid, but Eddie didn’t put up with that and he didn’t want you to, either. He’d stood up for you one fateful day in the third grade and made a friend he knew he’d cherish for the rest of his life.

At the moment, the two of you were at Steve Harrington’s New Year’s Eve party, a sentence neither of you thought you’d utter, with some of his friends as well as Eddie’s bandmates, the Hellfire Club, and a few of Dustin’s other friends. Trauma was a weird thing, after all, and bonded the most unexpected people.

“Here.” Eddie handed you a solo cup full of booze and you sniffed it before taking a sip of whatever mystery punch the rest of Corroded Coffin had poured together.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” He leaned against the kitchen counter, taking a sip of his drink as well, tattooed arms folded across his chest.

“Another one, huh?” You chuckled, shaking your head. “Another year.”

“Thanks to you.” He nudged you with his elbow. “You really saved my ass, you know? I really don’t think I’d be standing here without you, big ugly bat scars and all.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve saved my ass plenty of times, Munson, I’m pretty sure we’re even.”

He smirked, bumping his shoulder into yours. “You think so?”

“I do.” You nodded.

Steve drew everyone’s attention to the countdown, which was nearing a steady close.

“Hey, uh, (Y/N)?” Eddie said, his words slowing. “So remember that…not running away thing I was working on?”

“By running straight into a herd of evil mutant bats, yes, I recall.”

He scoffed. “Heh, yeah, well, um…There’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while, and I…you know what, fuck it.”

“What, Eddie—”

He smashed his lips against yours as the ball finally dropped, kissing you hungrily. You kissed him back, spilling your drink as you surrendered to his embrace. It was uncharted territory for both of you, sure, but just like your DnD campaign, you couldn’t wait to explore it with him, side by side.

Druig

Word Count: 0.5k

When the New Year finally rolled around, the Eternals that were close enough decided to throw something of a celebration, just as you’d all done in the years before you’d split off and gone your separate ways. Now that Druig had finally come out of hiding, he was standing in the corner of the room, sulking, snacking, and sipping champagne as he watched some random guy flirt with you across the room.

You and Druig were…complicated to say the least. You weren’t together, not officially. You obviously both cared about each other a lot, but neither of you had ever taken that next step, not before Druig had all but dropped off of the face of the planet.

You’d missed him, of course, but you weren’t sure how to bridge that gap, if that was even still what either of you wanted. He was the Hades to your Persephone. Quite literally. Your dynamic was where Sprite spun the legend to begin with.

“Why the long face?” Sersi asked, standing next to him, that soft, compassionate look on her face.

Druig shrugged. “Dunno. Just…not feeling the party, I guess.”

“Is that so?” She asked. “Why’s that?”

“Just…thought it would be different, is all.”

“Huh, well, looks like someone else might feel the same way.” Sersi nudged him, motioning to you with her head. Sure enough, you were giving the ‘help me’ eyes, stuck in conversation with the stranger in front of you.

“Oh.” Druig said, straightening up his jacket before standing up and briskly walking to you. “This guy botherin’ you, love?”

“Who’s this?” The frat bro in front of you asked, looking Druig up and down. It was true, Druig was much shorter than the lunkhead, but, of course, Druig had his own secret weapon up his sleeve.

“I’m their boyfriend.” Druig announced, slipping his arm around your waist. “Who are you?”

“Kyle.”

“Well, Kyle, if you don’t mind too much, I’ll be borrowing the beautiful, beautiful (Y/N) for the rest of the night.”

Kyle looked like he was about to retaliate, but then a golden hue took over his eyes and he turned around abruptly and walked across the room and out into the cold.

You chuckled and looked over at Druig. “Thank you. You just saved me from a riveting conversation about NFTs.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What’s an NFT?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

He grinned. “I’ll take your word for it, then.”

“How are you doing?” You asked, leaning into him a little more.

“Better now.”

“You looked a little grumpy before.”

“You noticed.”

“I always do. Especially when it’s you.” You smirked, mischievous. “So you’re my boyfriend, huh?”

“For the evening.” He shrugged. “Or longer, if you want.”

“Are you finally asking me out?”

“Might be.” Druig pulled you closer to him, his hands on your waist as the other Eternals began their countdown. “Are you saying yes?”

“Might be.” You repeated, nose brushing against his as you went in for a tender kiss.

Kili

Word Count: 0.8k

“So the Dwarves are coming over here for New Year’s Eve…why?” Your friend Chelsea asked, hanging up some 2023 balloons.

“Because they already had their New Year’s on Durin’s Day there, so…” You shrugged. “You know how they are, they just like parties.”

“That is true.” Kili nodded, walking into the kitchen.

Your face lit up when you saw him, and you walked over to him, surrendering to his embrace. “When did you come over?”

“Just a moment ago, my love.” Kili replied, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Do you need help preparing the festivities?”

“Actually, yes. Do you and the guys want to bring the drinks in from the car?”

“One step ahead of ye, lassie.” Dwalin replied, sipping from a bottle of beer he’d found out there, Fili and Thorin carrying in cases of beer behind him. You had bought a lot of it, but you still weren’t sure it would be enough to satiate the Dwarves. Only time would tell. Worse case scenario, they could go back through the portal in your closet and get some ale from Erebor.

“Thanks, guys. Anyone wanna go with Phil to pick up the pizzas?”

“I will!” Ori volunteered excitedly. “What’s pizza?”

The pieces slowly started to fall into place. You explained human New Year’s Eve traditions to the Dwarves whenever they asked questions.

“Kissing at midnight?” Thorin asked, well within earshot of Kili. “Does it have to be your betrothed?”

“Nope! Some people kiss total strangers, but if you have a partner, you usually kiss them, yeah.”

“Interesting.”

“Why, you have someone in mind, uncle?” Fili asked, teasing.

“No, of course not.” Thorin shook his head, flustered.

“Hmm.” You hummed, laughing softly. You turned to Kili, smirking. “Do you know who you wanna kiss?”

“I have a faint inkling, yes.” He smirked, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

In no time at all, the party was in full swing and the dwarves were distracted very effectively by the New Year’s Eve countdown, mesmerized by the colors and songs and segments included. Ori was taking notes ferociously while the other Dwarves participated in a drinking game led by one of your friends.

You sat in Kili’s lap, chatting with the others, sipping on champagne, and waiting for the final bell to toll, bringing 2022 to a close.

“Do you have a New Year’s Resolution?” Dori asked you, sampling some champagne himself.

“I’d like to write another book.” You said, leaning into Kili. “What about you?”

“I do have one.” Kili nodded. “But I think I’d rather tell you in private it it’s all the same to you.”

“Oh?” You asked.

He nodded, giving your hips a push off of the couch and taking you to the other room. You looked up at him curiously. In your world, the Mortal Realm, Kili stood about six feet tall, as opposed to his usual 4’ 10” that he sported so proudly back home. It was odd how your height difference flip-flopped back and forth, but you were coming to love it.

“So, I’ve been doing some research.” He began, taking one of your hands with his own. “It may be too soon, but…” Kili reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. He slowly got down on one knee, offering the box to you.

“Kili…” You whispered, your voice breaking. “Is this…?”

“Open it.” He urged, his voice faltering.

You opened the lid of the finely crafted wooden box. It was clear he’d made that from scratch as well, and sure enough, inside, you found a small tuft of green velvet, atop which sat three things: an intricate engagement band, which looked much like the claddagh ring he’d made for you, but with a diamond in the place of the emerald in the other ring, which currently sat, upright, on your right ring finger. The second and third were matching wedding beads, meant to be braided into your hair and his, to signify in Dwarven society that you were married.

“Oh my God. Kili, I…”

“In this New Year, in your world, in mine, I wish to marry you, to be your husband, to care for you for all of your days. And if you’d have me, my One, I would love to make you my wife.”

You nodded, tears slipping from your eyes as you pulled him back to his feet. “Yes, Kili. I love you so much. So much. I can’t wait to marry you.”

Kili pressed his lips to yours, collecting you in his arms, kissing you for the remainder of the year, your last year as an unmarried couple as it slowly bled into the year in which you would finally be married to the Dwarven prince of your dreams.

Neville Longbottom

Word Count: 0.8k

“Professor Longbottom?” One of Neville’s fourth year students asked, entering the greenhouse. It was winter break and only a handful of students remained in the castle, along with the few professors who had stayed. It had been a few years since the Battle and Neville had returned to Hogwarts, now the Herbology professor.

“Yes, Tilda?”

“Have you seen Professor (L/N)? I have a question about the extra credit assignment for their class.”

“I haven’t. Did you check their office?”

“I did, it was empty.”

“Huh.” Neville thought for a moment, running through your favorite places in the castle that you could have stolen away to. “Well, what’s the assignment?”

“We have to write about a Muggle holiday we haven’t learned in class yet. I wanted to write about New Year’s Eve, but…”

You walked into the greenhouse, holding a bundle of flowers. “Neville, have you--? Oh, hello Tilda.”

“Professor (L/N)!” Tilda grinned.

“She has a question for you.”

“I thought you might be in here with Professor Longbottom…” Tilda admitted with a shy grin. It was no secret to most of your students that there was something going on between the two of you. “I have a question about New Year’s Eve. So, the kiss everyone talks about, is that before or after midnight?”

“Oh, a New Year’s Eve kiss? It’s usually right at midnight. Muggles believe it’ll bring them luck in the new year.” You explained for her.

“Ohhhh. That makes a lot of sense. Thank you so much.”

“Of course. Let me know if there’s anything else you need! Will you be at the party tonight?”

“I will!” She smiled, saying goodbye to both of you before walking away.

“A New Year’s Eve kiss?” Neville raised an eyebrow, taking a step closer to you as soon as Tilda was out of sight and earshot.

“It’s tradition.” You shrugged, resting a hand against his cozy sweater vest. Outside, there was snow falling in large, fluffy flakes, visible through the greenhouse windows. “And if you’re lucky, you just might get one tonight.”

“What are these for?” He motioned to the flowers in your hand, changing the subject, his cheeks reddening. He had grown up a lot since you’d first met him, that was for sure, but every so often, the shy side of him showed itself again, reminding you of that shy Gryffindor boy you’d first fallen in love with. Little did you know he was nervous about something else that the evening would bring.

“They were in my office.”

“Well, you should put them in water, they’re lovely.” He replied, knowingly.

You rested your arms on his shoulders, pressing your forehead against his. “Thank you, Nev.”

“Of course, love.”

***

Later in the evening came the party Headmaster McGonogall was throwing for the few kids who were still there, as well as the staff who had volunteered to stay behind. The Grand Hall was decked out with silvery decorations, the tables near the front of the room loaded with food and punch.

You and Neville kept orbiting each other, keeping a safe distance to remain professional, but it was terribly obvious to anyone who knew the two of you that you shared a deep connection.

“You look lovely, dear.” McGonogall complimented, looking at your outfit.

“Thank you, Headmaster.” You thanked. “Happy New Year.”

“A Happy New Year indeed.” She eyed Neville, standing in the corner. “Mr. Longbottom looks quite nervous, does he not?”

“Oh.” You glanced over at him and she was right. He was pacing, even as midnight approached. “Yeah, he does. I’ll go check on him.”

You walked over to him and grabbed his attention, pulling him to a private corner. “You okay?”

He nodded, shaking.

You took his hands in yours and felt the way he was trembling. “Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

“I…” He sighed. “I’m…”

“Take your time.” You encouraged, your voice soft.

He took a long breath, centering himself, that Gryffindor courage finally taking hold. “(Y/N), I have been in love with you since our fourth year. When I saw you at that Yule Ball in this very room…I knew that I had to…to do this someday.”

“Do what someday?” You whispered, watching as he, shakily, pulled a tiny box from his pocket, opening it to reveal the most gorgeous engagement ring you had ever seen, its gem in the shape of a flower, metal leaves on either side of it. Tears pooled in your eyes. “Oh, Neville.”

“Will you marry me?”

In the background, you heard the students counting down to the new year while you had a brand new life waiting in anticipation for you to make your choice.

“Yes, Neville, of course.” You rushed into his arms, pulling him into the tightest hug while he exhaled a sigh of relief. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

And sure enough, right as the new year hit, you sealed your promise with a sweet kiss.

Peter Pan

Word Count: 0.8k

“What, so you’re telling me you don’t celebrate New Year’s?” You asked in disbelief at the nightly bonfire. It had been a few months since you’d taken up permanent residence in Neverland with Peter and the rest of the Lost Boys, but you’d been visiting the place in your dreams, and their self-appointed ruler, for that matter, for several years.

“What point would there be in that?” Felix asked, rolling his eyes at the sentiment. “Time doesn’t pass here. We don’t have a calendar year like they do in the Mortal Realm.”

“Then how do you keep track of time?”

“We don’t.” One of the other Lost Boys laughed.

“No other holidays?” You asked, eyebrows scrunching together. “None at all?”

“Nope.”

“Huh.”

You didn’t say much after that, thinking about it. You’d been trying to keep track of the days since you’d left home, and you knew it was probably getting to be around that time there. Not that you wanted to go back; you didn’t. But it still felt strange, one last final difference that further divided your new life from the one you had left behind for the adventure of a lifetime.

Pan found you later, studying the look on your face. He didn’t like when people were sad; it brought the whole vibe down, but he had a soft spot for you, had picked you especially to be, well…his. He wanted you to be happy for that reason, too. It hadn’t entirely dawned on him why that was, why your feelings were so important to him.

“Love?”

“Hmm?”

“Something bothering you?”

“Not really. It’s not important.”

He chuckled and sat in front of you, pinching your chin with his fingers and forcing you to meet his eyes. “Yes it is. What’s going on?”

“I just…Felix said you guys don’t really celebrate holidays here. I guess it makes sense. I should have realized that sooner, I guess.”

Peter thought for a long moment, putting the pieces together. “You miss holidays, then. We celebrate a lot, have parties nearly every night.”

“Yeah, I know, and I like those a lot too, but…I don’t know, something about…the rituals, I guess. I think New Year’s Eve would have been soon. It’s one of my favorite holidays.”

“Is it?” He raised an eyebrow, taking your hand. “Well then…let me see what I can do about that, eh?”

***

A few nights later, Pan sent you out with Felix on a “special errand.” You weren’t really sure what you were supposed to be looking for, but he’d said something about seashells, so you and Felix were combing the beach and collecting some.

“I was skeptical of you, you know?” Felix admitted. It wasn’t any surprise to you that was the case. Felix was Pan’s right hand man, after all. Most of his job was figuring out who was and wasn’t to be trusted. “But…something about having you here…Pan is different, more powerful, lighter, even.”

“Thanks, I think.” You chuckled. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

“I’ve been told I’m something of an acquired taste.”

“Yeah, well…I appreciate you looking out for me. You both made the transition a lot easier.”

“Anything for Pan’s Chosen.” He bowed playfully as you gathered the last of the seashells and you began the long hike back, only to find…the campgrounds were decorated.

There were glass orbs and flickering lights dangling from the tree branches, a large grandfather clock propped up against a tree. In the center of it all was Pan, dressed in a sparkly gold suit, holding an even sparklier gold outfit for you in his arms.

“What’s all this?” You asked, looking around in awe.

“It’s New Year’s Eve, love.” Pan insisted, smirking. “Here, get dressed. I’ll save you some champagne.”

“Champagne?” You asked, incredulous. “Where did you get all this stuff.”

“Details, details…” He shook his head, giving you a little push towards your hut, where you quickly changed into the new outfit before meeting him outside, where the Lost Boys were acting out what you could only assume was supposed to be some form of a New Year’s Eve broadcast while the grandfather clock began to tick down to midnight.

Peter took your hand and raised it to his lips. “You look absolutely stunning.”

“You clean up nice yourself.” You chuckled, still in disbelief at everyting that was unfolding around you. “I…”

“You don’t like it.” His expression fell.

“No! Oh my gosh, Peter, I love it, I just…I can’t believe you would do all this for me…”

He met your eyes, his voice very serious. “I would do anything for you, (Y/N). I suppose I’ll just have to keep proving that to you.”

It truly was one of the best nights you’d had on Neverland, if not in your life, and sure enough, when midnight hit, Pan made sure he wouldn’t miss out on perhaps the most important New Year’s Eve tradition of all. And he met you under the stars to capture your lips in a sweet, tender kiss.

[gremlinaristocrat]

Outstanding Ambiguities in Almost Nowhere

I here use ‘outstanding’ both in the sense of ‘unresolved’ and ‘extremely good’; I sincerely hope we never get a definitive answer for these.

Was Hector Stein originally a human being?

I’ll lead with my favourite: we never nail down whether Hector was a person placed in a Chestromath-y crash by Anomalings, or an NPC they stitched together to play a part in someone else’s dream.

Obvious signs seem to point to ‘human’, but consider:

He’s preternaturally charismatic, compelling, larger-than-life, and yet thoroughly unimaginative; all his tricks are copied from elsewhere. Once you start seeing the parallels between him and the (other?) fictives, it’s hard to unsee.

IIRC we never hear about his pre-crash history from anyone, even though that would be an excellent potential source of slander and scuttlebutt; considering the partisanship of the authors, this silence is conspicuous, ergo suspect.

Every other character seems subject to the convention “living humans and Anomalings are referred to with a first name only; fictives get surnames (which we don’t bring up for fictives we like, unless we’re making a point of reminding you they’re fictives); Annes can have little pseudo-surnames, as a treat”. Hector is the sole (apparent?) exception.

If he was a real boy, this raises the question: what sort of person’s Shade-assigned fantasy life looks like being cast into the role of “the teacher all the schoolgirls get crushes on”? And if he wasn’t . . . has everyone on Earth spent the last few years constantly hearing about the daring revolution being headed by (a fanfic version of) (their equivalent of) Severus Snape?

(I love this one the best because literally everyone in-universe would know the answer, and the only reason it’s not clear to me is that none of the half-dozen narrators felt it was non-obvious enough to be worth mentioning. Terra Ignota vibes, amplified to and past the point of parody; 11/10, no notes.)

What exactly did Azad do to Anne Twenty-Seven? Under what circumstances?

Yes, he hurt her. Yes, he broke her heart, abandoned her, and chose her sisters over her, only to abandon them in turn. But Azad – in the chapter he spends spelling out his various crimes – is weirdly vague and reticent about the exact nature of his original sin, the snowball that started the avalanche: all we hear for sure is that ‘it involves trust’. Is he staying quiet for his sake, or for hers? Is he magnifying his evil, or minimizing it? Or is this all because it’s another thing everyone already knows, the part of the sordid story the Nowhere-to-Hides wrote across the stars, and Azad only feels the need to confirm the allegations and fill in the blanks?

We don’t know; we don’t get to know.

Was Azad actively tortured while in Twenty-Five’s custody, or ‘just’ given awful working conditions?

We see a man stooped over a desk, compelled to eternal labour and penance. We see him later, rescued and refusing to believe it, insisting this is one of Twenty-Five’s tricks. Is this paranoia born from guilt, or past experience? Grant asserts based on his condition that “Hector’s guys” must have been “doing some pretty crazy shit”, but this is never confirmed or denied.

Later still, we hear his screams as he processes what happened in the crashes. How many of these are driven by guilt from Michael’s crash, versus trauma from Twenty-Five’s? Did she really have him working full-time on translation, or did she take some time every now and then to remind him of how her wants are structured?

I think Azad (and his co-authors) left this one in on purpose. He knew this book would be read by his victims – the Annes would have been top of his mind, but literally all of his in-universe readers would be living in a world wrought by What Azad Did – and wanted to preserve ambiguity for their sake: everyone (save Twenty-Five herself) gets to read their preferred ratio of self-inflicted vs other-inflicted suffering into the monster.

What happened to Annabel?

This is so weird. Shades don’t kill. They don’t even kill animals. And during the fall of Advanced Containment, long after she was supposed to be dead, Sylvie describes her as “stable, contained”; the dead don’t need much containing. But the official story is that she was slaughtered by Anomalings when Hector first left the crashes.

I think the official story is wrong. I think she disagreed with Hector, defected from him, joined up with Sylvie’s side . . . and then her former allies rebased her, rewriting her story so she dies at the most convenient moment. But mnemopoesis preserved her contribution to the manuscript, in the form of some autobiographical chapters (written in first-person, unlike any of the Annes the authors knew better, with the jarring justification that they just had to try mimicking her unique voice and personality), a deep understanding of the games and codes used in Michael’s crash (would we really be able to learn as much as we were shown from Eleven’s wilfully neglected witchcraft, and secrets Cordelia stole from Twenty-Five?), and a pair of un-attributable comments from a [REDACTED] co-author.

. . . unless, of course, that’s exactly what Azad and his co-conspirators want me to think: another piece of anti-Stein propaganda, all the more effective because they made me put the pieces together myself. (If that’s the case, it’s the kind of trick I can feel proud about managing to fall for.)

Who was [REDACTED]?

I mean, you know my opinion. But if it wasn’t Annabel, who was it?

It wasn’t her . . . and wasn’t a fabrication . . . I like to think it was an Anne who actually managed to erase herself from the narrative. Someone who stepped from the stage, and just kept walking, refusing to re-inflict the wound, leaving the entire sorry mess behind them.

How much damage control was Hector’s faction doing behind the scenes?

For most of the story, the world and its’ population remain precariously preserved, balanced on a bed of knife-edges. But with uncanny regularity – especially when you remember this is technically a war story – nukes don’t fly, crashes don’t fail, and Named Characters don’t die.

Towards the end of the story, we find out that Hector has thrived as long as he has by – essentially – savescumming. A little after that, Anne Eleven dies tragically, nigh-simultaneously with a substantial fraction of humanity, as the dog-god of war lets himself slip. And immediately after that, Sylvie restabilizes, as he figures out how to make sure Hector’s trickery can never work again.

So . . . how many disasters was Hector quietly averting? How many of Sylvie’s more destructive tantrums did he (unwittingly?) head off? How many times did he find Advanced Containment, and then rebase away his knowledge of it to save the people trapped inside? Does he even know? Does anyone? What’s the expected lifespan of this too-brave new world now our heroes have successfully smashed the Undo button?

[hamliet]

Crows With A Side of Bone, Please

Hamliet finally wrote that review.

I'll start off by saying that everyone is a very good actor. Jessie Mei Li has essentially nothing to work with, but she does her best to sell it anyways and still makes me care about her. Ben Barnes is delightfully evil while still affording the character sympathy the narrative doesn't give him.

The Crows--oh lord, the Crows. All of them have chemistry as a group and as couples. Wylan's actor is fantastic here and feels like a natural fit with the other 5, and Nina's actress also fits perfectly with the crew. They do have a lot to work with, and they manage to fully flesh out their already 3D characters and make them alive.

Kanej, Wesper, Nina/Matthias, Genya/David

The good ships, because this season I revoke my like of Malina that season 1 introduced me to.

I wrote this about Kanej. But also more about Kanej, because OTP OTP OTP.

I loved the final scene with them in the finale, where he grabs her, and she holds his hand and tells him, bluntly, that she does not want him with armor on. The line is one of my favorites in the book, and the show did an excellent job of showing the totality of it, the wholistic nature of what Inej is asking for. Yes, she's asking for him without his cold persona, without his bravado. She's asking for his vulnerabilities.

But she's also asking for his body. For him not to see her as broken. For him not to settle for less than all of her. She is thirsty, and I honestly think this was a beautiful portrayal of someone who has been hurt and is wary, but still wants and believes in the potential for good in sex. The show made this aspect so much more forefront than I remember it being in the books, and I honestly love it.

I also liked the choice to get Wylan and Jesper together early on. The piano scene emphasizes both of their respective gifts, and Wylan's fear over what Kaz might do to Alby clearly projects Wylan's own fears about being condemned for his father. (Wylan is actually one of my favorites in the books because his disability is, imo, good representation.)

Nina and Matthias didn't get nearly as much screentime this season (together anyways), but they made the most of every moment anyways. Even when they are apart we see the potential in how they are still affecting each other. We see Nina's determination. We see Matthias's hurt. We see the pride and humility they both carry, and how both can inhibit and also free them. There's so much potential there.

The motif of prisons, of hiding, is very strong in the Crows' arcs. Matthias uses his masculinity as a prison and chooses to fight over be free because he's scared. Wylan hides his family and disability. Jesper hides his gift. But if you want to have a complete life, you have to step out into the light. Which is a perfect way to segway into Alina, but...

Let's save the salt for later.

Also, not a ship, but I quite liked Nikolai. His character is one of the standouts in the original trilogy (because complexity). His volcra issue being rearranged timewise to be a cliffhanger I don't mind either.

David's death was, just like it is in Rule of Wolves, cruel and pointless. Just like Matthias's in Crooked Kingdom. Give Genya happiness. She earned it. So did David. Love seeing a woman who's been sexually abused and maimed find hope and healing with an autistic man who is almost NEVER a love interest in stories and then he dies for The Sads. Real inspiring. Real thoughtful. There is no narrative nor character reason for it to happen at all, and so early only made it worse honestly.

Show, Don't Tell

Mal tells Alina he has so many friends in the army that he's worried about, but we saw exactly 0 of these in the previous season. In fact, we saw Mal pulling away from the army to pursue Alina.

It was ridiculous that Alina's response to Kirigan in the climax saying people would come for her was "I will save myself," and then literally ONE SECOND LATER Inej saves her. Alina has never saved herself this entire dang series. Not in either season. The Crows save her each and every time! And that's not a bad thing--it could offer something about the power of relying on others, but to blatantly lie to your audience when you've shown us something else... bad writing yo.

I also wish they'd given us a reason to care about Ravka. They keep saying it's worth saving, worth protecting, but... why? We aren't even given the easiest narrative techniques to make us care about the common people (see, Alby making us care about Pekka even though we hate him=a good way of making us care. Give us a child who needs saving, a connection to the people, something, anything. If people deserve saving just because they are people well, that demonstrably flies in the face of what happens to Kirigan, so....)

Imprinting

It still baffles me that Alina again preaches about choice and yet even fate determined Mal's finding Alina. It was literally imprinting. That's what imprinting is. And for some reason Malina is held up as... healthy? When it's clearly extremely codependent?

It's not a huge problem that it's codependent, though, on principle. It's fiction. What does bother me is the hypocrisy of trying to tear apart every bad thing "bad boys" do while portraying Malina as healthy when it's demonstrably not. Malina would be far, far more interesting, frankly compelling, if they actually delved into this. The cliffhanger hinted they might do just this, but given other aspects, I'm not sure I quite trust them to follow up and follow though.

If you're gonna condemn what some people like and hold up what you like in comparison, at least make sure you're honest about its flaws.

Abuse is Bad Except Not if a Woman Does It. Then It's Girl Power!

Again, the themes of the Crows almost, at times, contradict Shadow & Bones' purported themes. But that's not hard, because Shadow & Bones' purported themes contradict themselves.

I've said this before, but I'll say again that there is a difference between complexity and paradoxes and portrayal the oft-contradictory reality of our world and contradicting your theme. A contradiction is much more common in a simplistic story, which S&B is.

Why is it wrong and seen as a sign of evil beyond comprehension for the Darkling to hurt his mother, who is acknowledged even by the show to have abused him, but not inherently wrong for Alina or Inej or Kaz to hurt their abusers?

Literally Bhagra said "know that i loved you and it wasn't enough." We are NEVER shown her loving him; we are shown abuse, which the show does kind of acknowledge, while also trying to vindicate Bhagra while holding the Darkling to standards it doesn't hold any other character.

Yes, there's some complexity here insofar as Inej and Kaz's relationships with abuse and revenge go. They aren't black and white, and the characters waffle in the gray. But Alina and the Darkling literally are light and darkness, and the gray is explicitly rejected. And there is actually a way to make this work!

You have to frame it as a tragedy.

Kaz, Inej, Genya et al mess up and do terrible things in revenge; they even at times (especially Kaz) walk the line between utterly losing themselves to it. But they have people around them to pull them back, to reach for them. The Darkling does not. This could be portrayed as something sad, as someone trying to reach the hurting child inside him and him continuously rejecting them (for example, Adam and Blake in RWBY), with his death framed as something to mourn rather than viewed as a moment of triumph, but no. The show doesn't offer him this (to be fair. Neither did the books.)

And to people who say Alina's not obligated to do so! Yes, yes, sure, but also Alina's inherent goodness is just assumed, when she's demonstrably kind of callous at best. I talked about this more in my review of Season 1, but yeah. Nothing's changed on that front.

The point is also that... what has the Darkling actually done to Alina? There were ways to emphasize him as an abuser, which he is clearly coded as, but the show (and the books tbh) doesn't do that. Alina supposedly mourns her parents, but we're given a handful of lines and nothing to actually show us the impact of losing them. (Again, Alina's self-centered focus is actually very much a trauma response to this... or could be, but the story doesn't want to explore it.) The impact of his lies is just not really explored on a deep level like it should be if you want to go for the "abuser" angle. See again, Blake Belladonna for how you do that.

Alina's "there is no redemption" line was baffling to me. It was framed like some sort of powerful "I. Am. Iron Man" moment, except okay, if that's your power girl, I don't think it's a good one.

Power Fantasies

This is my issue with Shadow & Bone the books as well: they aim to deconstruct "Beauty and the Beast" but fail to understand the appeal of the story in the first place is not "oh i have a dangerous boyfriend" but instead a healing power fantasy the same way fight-punch-kick can be a power fantasy. Shadow & Bone also directly tries to deconstruct Jungian symbolism of the shadow, but also doesn't like, understand what Jungian symbolism stands for. Until the ending, that is, when the writers were clearly like "Bardugo doesn't get it but we do and we're keeping it."

Again, I'll contrast this with Blake in RWBY, whose portrayal I have criticized before, but which is much better than the portrayal here. Blake is herself both beauty and beast, which emphasizes the traditional fairy tale's emphasis on accepting the worst of ourselves and recognizing both the beautiful aspects of ourselves at the same time. We tend to see ourselves as either Good or Bad, but only when we see ourselves as both do we mature and truly live. Even though Adam is ultimately "put down" in RWBY, Blake still acknowledges her flaws and doesn't see Adam as inherently bad, but he leaves her absolutely no choice. Alina facing down the Darkling offers her zero introspection and growth.

Sigh. It's a 2.5/5 for me. The Crows are everything. I want their spin off. I need it. I will take Zoya and Nikolai too.

[mask131]

Twelve Days of Sinsmas (1)

The release of the Sinsmas episode kind-of triggered my old seven deadly sins obsession... I don't want to get engulfed too much into it, but I think I will use the Twelve Days to make a brief list of some iterations of the seven deadly sins in media. Just to collect, just for fun, maybe you'll remember some, or learn about others.

I want to start this series with a little collection of Internet-based depictions of the seven deadly sins, since the thing that caused my current brain-crash IS an animated webseries...

Of course all the talk of the town today is the Seven Deadly Sins from the "Helluvaverse", the seven top-demons ruling over hell. I don't think I need to introduce them anymore...

Another work which can be compared to the Helluvaverse, in terms of "little Internet production becoming very famous" is the webcomic "Kill Six Billion Demons". Unlike the other works depicted on this list, this webcomic doesn't rely heavily on the Christian religion or worldbuilding, as this epic fantasy filled with supernatural battles and philosophical bickering is heavily inspired by Asia: Buddhism, Hinduism, various philosophico-religious currents of China or Japan... But it still has a angels, demons, heaven and hell, AND, more interestingly for us, antagonists explicitely based on the seven deadly sins: the Seven Demiurges, antagonists all reflecting upon and dissecting (or twisting) one of the cardinal vices.

While not Internet-related, I do have to point out that the motif of "seven rulers of heaven corrupted by the deadly sins because they hold a piece of God's power" has some similarities with the Seven Days (or Seven Morrow Days) of the book series "Keys to the Kingdom".

In fact, there's a LOT of webcomics that have used the seven deadly sins at one point. We go from the more serious and family-friendly, with the Seven Deadlies of Widdershins, spirits manifesting the vices of humanity...

... to the more NSFW, such as the strange webcomic "Devilbear", which can only be described as... basically "Happy Tree Friends" meets "hellish comedies" meets "pin-up calendars". It is about the hell where "wicked teddy bears" go to after their death, and the titular Devilbear is surrounded by seven assistants, the Daivas of Decadence supposed to represent the seven sins - but they're mostly just sexy demon secretaries, pin-ups constantly making sexual innuendos and porn puns... Yes, as I said, it is weird.

And we can even go down to... Sigh, do I really have to mention this?

... I really don't want to, but I think I have to.... It's the elephant in the room, and a part of the Internet's history no matter how infamous or revolting it was... It a work where I (I who do not use trigger warnings on a regular basis) will put at last three dozen trigger warnings, so be warned. I do not think this comic should be supported in any way, but you know - better learn about the evil than hide the world from it.

There are the Seven Sins in "Jack". A webcomic I do not recommend because, despite a handful of cool ideas and edgy concepts that could lure horror fans or hell enthusiasts in (that's how I got trapped in th cesspool), this comic is basically a third furry fetish-rape comic, a third religious propaganda for Christianity with some very dubious choices, and a third heavy unsubtle social commentary on the events of the USA from the 90s onward, done sometimes in very poor taste... How can you make a Christian defense comic while also making it fetish furry? Well the guy managed to, AND to also make one of the most disturbing cases of "artistic animal cruelty" I ever saw. I am a big fan of "Happy Tree Friends", but Jack made me felt soiled.

However the concept of the Sins was, I'll have to admit, quite cool for its time... There are some interesting ideas... It has the merit of for once depicting Lust in all of its horrors (too bad some of those horrors reflect on the author's real life)... And more importantly, it was released in public domain, so maybe someone will one day take the little good in there and make something way better than what this mess is.

After those, you'll probably need to ease yourself by something cute, nice and not coming from a deeply disturbed mind... Like Doobus Goobus' Seven Stupid Sins.

However if you REALLY want a dark piece of horror-comedy, with anthropomorphic animals depicting the seven deadly sins, I can't recommend enough a piece of animation that had its fame on the Internet. It is quite old, 16 years, so best preserve it: it is Tim Lines' short movie "7 not quite in heaven".

[soft1scream]

this moment made me write for something real, that i thought to myself— this moment didn't turn the pages over— it started the book. 

i like to think that there's no hell for those who never believed in heaven— i guess there is really something in those formative years. however, here i am fondling all the fury behind my poetic persona just because i ended up in a state of disbelief as i can no longer sneak yellow in a black canvas.. and so i'm writing because finishing the drawing is the only option. 

.. and i'm writing because i'm a stutter. 

where i am isn't something i dreamed of, as a spiritual cruiser, perhaps an easy rider. i want to do well with education, thus i’m graduating soon, yet, the thought of steering my own path from here on out is something only i see difficult accepting. i haven't emblazoned my strongest version yet. when standing, i'm a quarterback, when lying, i'm dreaming in paperback. still, i'm crossing the threshold, unsure of life over there, hoping— that day, i will have a home for all of my habitats and be able to choose horror rather than my usual habits. 

my younger self has always dreamt of going to a different city, away from this tropical— non smoking country, live life and not just watch myself survive and have fun and be young forever and be forever beautiful and be the once in my family's lifetime. i dream of something bigger than who i am, i dream in 15 stories high, or just to see skyline underwater. yes, i will keep scintillating in incandescent scenes just like how lyrical obscurity will forever just be enigma to machines. will i blossom like a rose in a garden full of weeds or could the smog end me like the ashes that have watched over my deeds? 

i am still forced to be the skeleton that helps them sleep better at night, that's why i search for pedestals of human to avoid the view from their height. however, im okay for everything that was done to me that we're part of the reason i am who i am today, either by shattering me then turning me more refined or by abandoning me.. but i'm really grateful for those people i met while trying to find the person i call 'myself' that didn't alter or hinder the reflection that followed me every step of the way. this year was built to be a castle in the air, to make me realize, i'm not the only person in this world, that the world doesn't revolve around my desires. that i dream for something bigger than who i am. i would love to see the world as marianne as the people around me. 

i contemplated a lot during the times i was able to do so, realizing.. i have said "realizing" too many times now for my liking. i'm not used to realizing, most of the time i just don't wanna know.. anyways.. i realized that people just don't believe any of my kindness. that because i'm usually strong, people don't believe me if i get weak. not even my family or friends. even the poems i write won't get used to the fact that i am not what i used to be. and i don't want to be misunderstood for feeling what i want to feel or for feeling what i don't want to feel. 

i believe that i am more than what i show— what i reveal. deeper than what i say or how i act or how i put emotions to every words. it's my nature to pretend like im strong, it acts as an alibi to hide the fact that i'm weak and vulnerable and sensitive and careful and sad and tragic and beautiful but no hope... and it's hard being a weak skeleton in a thick skin, always feeling unloved and wronged. which in the end, my fault. for showing everybody how a person with applaudable background with no applauses behaves. but it can never be my fault that in this house, i cannot feel happiness. can't feel sadness, anger, pity or hunger. and once i feel stressed, i will be justified. i may seem normal, but my life is difficult. i live in a terrible house, never experiencing home. i guess i'm nasty and evil, but if you've seen what i can still remember, you'll understand me. it's very unfortunate that the person who has the most potential to love was given a family who never believed in that stuff. 

 

sometimes, when i think about it and writing about it, i let my teardrops wet the paper because it's somehow giving me the satisfaction of having to get to feel any emotion— as if i'm watering the rose from my very own grave— but then again, water takes away the letters from the paper— leaving me with indelible mistakes that makes me want to just pantomime my feelings.  when i'm lonely— i feel alone— i lie in my bed, but it doesn't help as the bed's too wide for me, or that one bottle of pepsi is too much to drink. god, i wish i have always preferred thunder from the rain. 

i want to talk about how i love a man— which i never ever opened my mouth for. most of the time, i'm just in love with the idea that we're completely different from each other, which is the standard for most movies but never in a reality tv show. if i need some man to tell me i look pretty, my body is tiny, i'm his wallpaper or that he draw my face upside down black and white— sure i can easily get these words from men, but if i tell you, i want someone to give me 15 anniversaries, quiet when there's something wrong, and laughs when i'm overreacting and won't tell me that it's enough!. 

i'm really grateful for my friends who cured all the headaches i gave them. there's no greater feeling than being burnt out after spending the day with them. when i'm tired but i look back on times i was happy. the source of me laying down is also the source of what keeps me getting up. for them. for fun. 

tw: pissed 

if i won't be a superstar, i will be a writer or close to a storyteller, but it's difficult when people will constantly overlook me, waste my potential that's deep within me like i wasn't built to show them, they put my talent on somewhere it don't fit, and they take away the light in me when i know im so much better than all of them. i'm fuming to witness my talents misplaced, relegated to places where they fail to shine, and to endure the dimming of my light at the hands of individuals who fail to see my worth. do you know how patronizing it is for me to witness them show up in a funny smirk while i'm trying to find a place i belong.. to be beneath the skin of a writer, an actual escaper, a city light underwater.. do you know how patronizing it is to assume that i would somehow prefer tasks of lesser difficulty simply because you doubt my ability to handle more challenging ones. your assumption not only diminishes my potential but also undermines my confidence.. who the fuck do you think you are?.. to confine me within the boundaries of your narrow perception. do you know how discouraged i was when i showed there not to do anything good in their eyes then not be involved but then get credited after all? it's nice, thanks for the recognition, but it pains to realize that my efforts are overlooked until it's convenient to acknowledge them. do you know how discouraged i am these past few days, and when i'm discouraged, i bet i will think i'm quitting and i bet i'd feel like a loser. do you know how it pains me when writing turned out to be the only thing i'm good at and then feeling that i failed at the one thing i've ever tried.. just because there's someone who thinks they're a so much better writer than me. and i know, i have to bleed ink onto every page to prove that. do you know how embarrassing it is to claim to be a writer then read rather than write, or listen because i have weak attention span. my imagination doesn't run wild but if there's one thing about me, i know how to write. i think about all the failed attempts of my writing journals for a platform that follows a format. it's not my fault i am built not to fit in. they're not gonna judge me for the way i write or me as a writer. they can try but they won't make my words or letters so much better 

i'm a metaphor for those who once felt overlooked, misunderstood, and unlovable. i still have something to say, even now that i already wrote an eight pager. i'm a straightforward mouth with a pretty face. i'm a coffee for those who never drank coffee. strong at first, but will tell you to wake the fuck up. i believe that everyone should have a "france" in their life— this is reality, live in it. i always carry the burden of going home, and it's hard to carry the burden of staying the same. when i'm not hungry anymore, i'm leaving this country.  if i ever feel like writing again, trust me you will know— cause i'll be posting about it. 💋

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Dalton Kane and the Greens by J.S. Bailey

The Adventures of Dalton Kane #1

Unique, intriguing, well-developed world filled with aliens, humans, sentient carnivorous tree-like beings, and…a whole lot more. I was a bit on the fence for the first part of the book but as the story progressed, I found myself drawn into the story and caring about the outcome of the characters in Richpoint on Molorthian Six.

What I liked:

* The space-cowboy vibe with unique weapons of defense

* The plot, pacing, setting, world building, and my ability to relate to the characters

* The quirkiness that was almost comedic at times but was oh so very real in threat level at others

* The friendship that developed between Dalton and Chumley and learning more about their pasts – almost liked Chumley more than Dalton

* The look at good and evil as well as kindness and how each of these impacted the story and its characters

* Meeting the supporting characters and wanting to know more about them – would like to know more about more than one of them!

* The shapeshifter element along with the cube the shapeshifter had

* Thinking about the difficulties and stresses there must be living on a planet like Molorthian Six

* Being able to thoroughly dislike the bad guys while seeing good in some that were considered evil

* Knowing that there is going to be another book in the future

What I didn’t like: * Who and what I was meant not to like

* Thinking about what creates evil people and wondering how they can do the evil they do

Did I enjoy this book? Yes

Would I read more in this series? Yes

Thank you to NetGalley and the author for the ARC – This is my honest review.

4-5 Stars

BLURB

When humanity first settled Molorthia Six, they thought it was uninhabited. Apparently the treelike Greens were holding still and hiding their fangs. These days, humans live in the Molorthian desert, far from the bloodthirsty forests. Life is going rather miserably for widowed Sheriff Dalton Kane, so it's no real surprise when unexplained forest fires send refugee Greens fleeing toward town. When a violent Green attack leaves several citizens dead, Dalton and his new deputy, an ex-conman named Chumley Fanshaw, make the treacherous journey north to see if they can stop the fires that keep sending Greens in their direction. They soon find themselves fighting not only for their lives, but for the lives of every human on Molorthia Six. Will Dalton's oldest enemy become his greatest ally?

AUTHOR BIO

J. S. Bailey enjoys writing speculative tales that keep readers on the edges of their seats. She has published eight novels and twenty-two short stories, with more on the way. Bailey is fond of long walks in the woods, British television, and lots of burritos. She lives in Cincinnati, Ohio with her husband and cats. Follow her on social media to keep up with her upcoming releases: https://www.facebook.com/jsbaileywrites https://www.instagram.com/jsbailey_au... https://twitter.com/jsbailey_author

[nobodyaskdcourtney]

Wildwood Whispers Rated ★★★★☆

by Willa Reece

Blurb from Hachette Book Group: Mel Smith’s life is shattered after the sudden death of her best friend, Sarah Ross. In an effort to fulfill a final promise to Sarah and find herself again, Mel travels to an idyllic small town nestled in the Appalachian Mountains. But Morgan’s Gap is more than she ever expected. There are secrets that call to Mel, from a salvaged remedy book filled with the magic of simple mountain traditions to the connection she feels to the Ross homestead and the wilderness around it. With every taste of sweet honey and tart blackberries, the wildwood twines further into Mel’s broken heart. But a threat lingers in the woods—one that may have something to do with Sarah’s untimely death and has now set its sights on Mel.

The wildwood is whispering. It has secrets to reveal—if you're willing to listen...

Rating: ★★★★☆ Descriptors: Captivating, whimsical, sensory Recommended by: darbyisescaping on TikTok Recommended for: The spiritualist within us all

I was originally drawn to this book for a couple of reasons, but mainly I took interest in the Appalachian setting. I have family history in that area, and I have always heard fascinating things about the folklore surrounding those mountains. I had my assumptions going into this novel about how the Appalachian narrative would come into play. I honestly expected a much more negative light to be shown on the culture there, but I was pleasantly surprised by the emphasis on community that was shared. Don't get me wrong, the negatives were there, too, but the message of found family strongly comes into play in this story.

The blurb above covers the basis of what you need to know about this story, but there is ultimately so much more than what meets the eye. Spoilers may be ahead.

With themes of community, sisterhood, and found family playing an integral role, I wish sometimes that this book had not been entirely from one point-of-view. Mel was a well-rounded protagonist, yes, and the moments of Sarah's memories were a nice change of pace. But there were so many other characters that I wish we had gotten to know on a more intimate level. Mel kept many people at arm's length, although her internal monologuing made it clear how she cared for each of them. I would have loved diving deeper into their stories and all the background movements at play.

This book also leans into the mystery genre, as it builds around an unsolved murder. There are themes of religious cults and corruption of power, but it becomes fairly obvious who will win in the end. I never quite felt the fear that I think was intended, so much as I felt all the tension surrounding the antagonists. Even so, the evil powers that be are those of people you could meet in real life. The author truly encapsulates those small town politics - the greed, the corruption - and how they poison the community and more.

While it is never outright stated, witchcraft is a large part of the story. Folklore, nature appreciation and even idolization, herbal medicine, the ritualistic nature of mundane tasks, etc. It does not try to hide its message, but it never claims to be what it truly is. I have my own history with witchcraft, so a lot of the things described in the story spoke to me in a way that I'm not sure others will understand. It was a realistic depiction, in my humble opinion, right up until the end, but I was hardly disappointed in the ending.

This was a slow read and a slow build to the climactic portion. In fact, if I'm remembering right, I do not believe any real action takes place until the last five chapters or so. There is a lot of intrigue and tension building, but the resolution certainly takes its time to accumulate. I think the slowness is realistic in terms of how long something like this would take in the real world, but it could be a deterrent to some. There were times where I was tempted to set it aside, but those last five chapters drew me in - I was so glad I finished it. In fact, those last few chapters are what made me rate this so highly.

The writing is beautiful, but it is the epitome of purple prose. It reads almost like poetry. The descriptions are frequent and whimsical, whether it is something so simple as a field or the fragrance of baked bread. It is sensory overload and, at times, to a fault. I think the intent was to make the real world seem more magical than mundane, and I respect that message. Life is magical. The world is magical. It takes time to really appreciate the beauty around us, and I do love a bit of whimsy here and there. Yes, folk magic is a key player in this story, but I believe some things could have been shortened or omitted entirely. It was a captivating read in the sense that I felt fully immersed in the setting, and it spoke to the spiritualist in me, despite some excessive moments.

All in all, I ended up really loving the book. It felt personal to a journey I do not often speak of, and I appreciated the magic of this small, Appalachian town and its community. It loses one star only for the flowery writing and the slow pace, but it makes up for it in so many other ways. I am beyond glad I finished this book. I think it will sit with me for a long while.

[sagetsukimura]

So she bumps into him and stares for a while, and he asks her if she'd like him to find a portrait painter, because yes, he knows he's handsome but this is a bit much. Meanwhile, her brain is going vrrrrrm trying to figure out where in the timeline they are. She sees red eyes and decides discretion is the better part of valor and apologies for bumping into him, so sorry, she'll just get out of his way-

Except on second look, again, he looks pretty terrible. Tired. No sign of the smug smirk or perfect smile. Shadows under his eyes. He looks dead inside.

So on impulse, she pulls a flower* out of her hair and offers it to him. He's bemused but accepts, and then is very thrown off when this slip of an elf very seriously tells him. 'It'll be better one day, I promise.'

(*I'm still picking a type of flower. not that she picks that flower on purpose, but I love flower symbolism, and it's kinda important later anyway, so yes, this time there is a meaning, the curtains are blue because he's sad.)

He, can't really think of how to respond to that before her mother calls her away, and she's gone. That's the last we see of him for a while.

She, meanwhile, goes home, lays down her head to go to sleep, and instead has a Crisis.

Because suddenly it's not a story. He's not a character in a book. He's real, HERE, and actively trapped in a very fucked up situation. And she's just been planning to hide away when shit gets hard and live her life.

Except, she's already lived her life. She's ok with how her other life went. She loves it with her aim to be happy, and she was. No huge goals to change the world, no great cause, she didn't dedicate herself to helping others or making a difference. She just wanted to have a good, happy life and not negatively impact others. And she had.

But Astarion's life has effectively been stolen from him. And she...

Doesn't want to leave him to suffer.

Not that SHE can do much. She's 14. She can't even use magic yet. What's she gunna do, tell her parents a respected nobleman is a vampire planning on converting an armies worth of people into vampires to power his evil ritual he can become the ultimate super-vampire? And she knows this HOW?

Anyway, that's the shape of the beginning of the end. Because she decides that if she can't do anything right now, then she'll just have to try and prepare so that when something DOES happen, she CAN do something.

Spoiler. That doesn't really work out. But it still doesn't stop her from trying. That's the jist of the rest of the story too, tbh. She learns a lot. Fails a lot. Suffers a lot too. But it doesn't stop her from trying.

Which is one of the themes of the story, that there's value in the simple act of trying. That it matters is someone TRIES, even if they fail. And that just because you've failed, doesn't mean you should stop trying.

Trying is its own kind of bravery, you know? again and again- the kind that borders on insanity (trying the same thing over and over again and expecting different results quote. The key here is that she doesn't always try the same thing over and over. She just doesn't stop TRYING)

Done gushing for tonight. Ta!

Fuck ok, I gotta gush.

So I'm SUPPOSED to be working on my FFVII fic revision, I'm sorry. It's open on my computer. Right now. Right next to THIS tab.

THIS referring to my goddamn brain worm of a BG3 fic

Which has no name.

So, to help me get a name, I'ma gush about it, because holy shit.

I've written so much. So fast.

And I deserve to be proud. So.

[husbandohunter]

Dottore with short drabble “You only ever brought me pain and I’m sick of it.”

Something angsty pls? Thank you!

Tainted Glass [Dottore x Reader/Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: Can you escape the prison you made?

(A twisted Cinderella story. The girl was covered in cinders because she was fatally addicted to drowning in flames.)

Warnings: angst, emotional abuse, violence, death

(A/n): To be honest anon, I didn’t know what the word ‘drabble’ means until I googled it. I uh...hope you don’t mind the length :> 

-----------------------

You fell back against the cold hard floor with your arms bent and head turned sideways. The stinging pain spreads across your cheek. It burns. But your mind was still trying to register what had just came into fruition. 

Why?

The thought was so foreign somehow as if you could hardly believe he was doing this. But then the scene plays in your head again. You froze, your gaze enlarged and clueless while staring at the pale ground as it slowly begins to darken in the seeping movement of his menacing, haunting shadow. 

"Insolent woman, you wretch!" He spat in a disgusted tone, "How dare you speak to me in such demanding manner? Have I already told you, only talk when you have something important to say?"

You didn't respond, rather you merely let the strands fall in front of your vision as you gingerly pressed your hand against the place where he hit you. 

I…don't quite understand…

Dottore glowers down at your hunched form. He was never a man known for the virtue of patience. This man, the one who calls him your husband, you learned a long time ago to not meet his eyes as they would signal a hint of dominance amidst his authority, especially during moments like these. You came to feel his eyes instead, they were usually intense and full of wrath, sometimes crazed and curious while looking at his finest creations. He always loved experimenting in his labratory. After all, it was the only thing that could truly make the madman smile.

What is it that I'm missing? Where did I go wrong?

And you would do anything to obtain at least a fraction of the love he had left in his heart. 

He marches onward with heavy footsteps, paying no mind to your well-being, "Tch get out of my sight. I don't have the time to entertain with anymore these theatrics."

At the sound of him leaving you darted your attention towards him, "Wait, come back. Come back, " you plea softly, "Hector…" But he ignores your call. The back of your fiance disappears behind the door and slams it with a resounding thud. He was gone. You couldn't save him.

"No," As a result, you burried your face into your palms and cried.

“I'm sorry.”

…

What is love?

Being raised in one of the most prestigious bloodlines of Fontaine, a life filled with riches since your parents were well known scholars throughout Teyvat, they provided you and your family with everything you needed. From exquisite dishes to priceless jewelry, yet even among those riches you never did find an answer to your question. They were tangibles and short-lasting, eventually leaving you with nothing until the glass of your heart was filled empty. They seemed to have cared more about their fortune along with the brightest child of their family line, your brother, a male heir, someone who fulfilled their expectations where you couldn't do so. And because he was able to give them what they wanted, he was loved.

I see, love is conditional.

Realizing that you possessed no talent to achieve what your brother had accomplished, you came to accept that you were undeserving of their love. Love was for the smart. Love was for the gifted.  Love was for everything you are not. There was no place for your kind and thus you locked yourself up in your bedroom chambers along with your fragile heart where no one would try to find you, picking up the books upon the shelves and getting lost in their fantasies. 

They told you many beautiful things about the world and many reasons why it was so tragic. Because they weren't real. The story begins with a princess who was a kind-hearted soul, deprived from the care of her evil stepmother and dreams of marrying a prince from a land far far away. They often end on a happily ever after with the princes finding her one true love. You've never seen anything like it. Where two people, despite the struggles they went through, loved each other unconditionally.

Unconditional love only exists in dreams.

Or so you thought to believe.

One day a man marched right at the doorsteps of your mansion. He was a student coming all the way from Sumeru Academia and had high hopes of building a business partnership with your father. The man was declined of course, you watched from the garden bushes as he was sent off back into his carriage. He stops abruptly and turns his head ajar to catch your figure, his inquisitive eyes were both striking and sharp. Like thorns of a rose that was ready to prick anyone who dares to come close. Even so, they made a very lasting impression.

Red eyes.

It was the first time that someone had looked your way.

Couple of months later, the government had arranged a grand ball where all nobles would gather and commit to building their social circle. Useless events. There was no reason for you to engage. While your parents were occupied with the latest gossips and your brother surrounded by fathers who were eager to marry their daughters to him, you snuck outside to the balcony and hid away from the crowd. Quiet at last. And as things should be. The moon was your only friend because she was just like you; half empty. Maybe that was why you still had a glimmer of hope for the other half to be filled. 

Part white, you inquired, pristine and untainted. From far away it looked similar to snow. 

"My, how pleasantly surprising."

While the other part was stained with black cinders.

You glanced over your shoulder to see a man leaning against the pillar. His mint coloured bangs were slicked back in a trendy fashion, complimenting the white suit he adorned himself with. The golden chains hanging around his ebony boots dangled and clanged with each step he took forward until the light finally reveals his face.

"You seem familiar," you say while squinting your eyes, "Are you the person my father rejected back in February?"

He quirks one brow and you were afraid if you had offended him. But before you could utter an apology, the man splits his lips into a toothy grin and bursts out into a maniac-like laughter. He was completely insane, you thought to yourself. Though he paid no mind to your discomfort and continued to dwell in his amusement, "Hahaha straightforward, I like it! So what if I am? Is it a requirement to be a noble for me to simply have a chat?"

"And if I may ask why?"

"Hmmm, why?" The man reaches for the balcony and presses his back there. He threw his head backward before drilling his ruby gaze into yours, "I too am not fond of annoying crowds. Those snobbish fools thinking they're above everyone else just because they have a couple of mora when that is all they are worth. It's almost too hilarious for my own good."

You could tell there was disdain in his tone. Mainly towards your father who were one of the many unkind nobles of Fontaine and was only liked because of his success. Gripping your hands upon the stone railings, you looked down at the distant trees below while the wind rustled them apart, "I can't deny that," you say dissapointedly, "It's common for nobles not to associate with lower classes as it could potentially ruin their image. Though I may not have been there but I'm sure you had much to offer in terms of your brilliance, erm, Mister…?"

"Hector," Hector placed a palm on his chest with a polite bow following suit, "Hector Dufour-Lapointé. It is a pleasure to make you an acquaintance Lady (Y/n)."

"You know my name?"

"How could I not?" Hector smirks lazily as he danced around you, "I saw you before hiding behind the rose bushes back in your estate. Quite curious why you didn't attempt to say hello."

He even remembers that too. You fiddled with the fabric of your dress, "My apologies. I'm not use to socializing so much."

“Is that so? I think you're not giving yourself enough credit," he complimented while shrugging, "This is much more entertaining than hanging in that insufferably crowded room, it was an unexpected occurence to meet you here of all places. However, I must say time can fly if I'm able to enjoy myself."

You shifted away from his stare, "You flatter me. We've only been talking for a few minutes."

"I have yet to realize it then" Hector's cheerfulness remains at stance despite your gloomy response. He leans forward like a curious child and tosses you a question, "Then allow me to ask, what brings you out here Lady (Y/n)? I don't see any reason when your family are such highly respected people of Fontaine." 

"I'm not like them!" You retort instantly, causing the man to glance at you with skepticism, "I mean, I have nothing to do with them and they have nothing to do with me. That's just how it is. They already have Clement after all…"

Why am I telling him this?

"Ah your brother I assume. Yes so I've heard much about his genius mind. There were a few instances where he and I collaborated at Sumeru Academia," Hector speaks as if regarding to his unpleasant memories, "Although he never said anything about having a sister."

"We're not that close. And I'm not very fond of him," you confessed bluntly.

"Neither am I," Hector agreed with a scowl, "He claims his position using the knowledge derived from history books but never tries to think beyond the norm. That ignorant mindset of his will surely be his downfall one day."

"Ignorance can lead to anyone's downfall. If they turn a blind eye to the truth, so much can be taken from them," you paused shortly from rambling too much, "That's what I read in books at least."

"As expected of your lineage," he sighs whimsically, "Such avid readers."

"Well my family prefers documents and research. I've gone through them too but I will always love reading fiction."

"Ha! Seems you really are trying to be different from the rest of your family."

Seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours, you had already forgotten about the cold breeze despite your dress being less than ideal for the outdoors. The man, although he can be a little to blathering at times, was more than what seemed to be on the surface. At first you thought of him as someone here to take advantage of your relations to your father but he seemed so sincere when listening to your stories, so eager while expressing his thoughts and even made you laugh a couple of times. You didn't realize that the clock had already struck twelve as the guests were preparing to leave but you just weren't ready to do the same.

"Until next time (Y/n)," he takes your fingers and pressed a kiss on top of them, though you were more struck by how he addressed you without honorifics, "I look forward to speaking with you again."

A warm smile graces your lips as you cursty, "Likewise Hector. Thank you for listening to me. I know I must have taken a long time."

Hector sneered but you already learned that it was simply his way of expressing amusement, "Hardly. I was thoroughly entertained."

When your parents found out about your meeting with him, they made it clear that you would never see him again. Hector Dufour-Lapointé is what he calls himself but the real name behind this man was Hector Valliere who came from a village hidden in the west of Fontaine. Rumours said that he was chased out of his hometown by an angry mob, claiming him to be a madman conducting unethical experiments on humans. Shortly after his arrival in Sumeru, he abandoned his past identity and replaced it with a new one in order to enter the academy under legal supervision. Associating with a man of a suspicious reputation would only cause harm to your family's name. Though you could barely care much about their reputation. There was nothing for you to benefit from it.

Few weeks have passed and you evetually gave up on the thought of hearing from Hector. They were only fleeting moments, nothing more. Your routine would stay the same as you kept on plucking more books off the shelves, killing whatever time you had. However the activities you used to enjoy somehow lost it's flair and there would be a slight pain in your chest whenever you turn to a page with the princess as she is surrounded by her friends. What exactly changed? Your family still treated you the same. Did you suddenly grow bored from doing the same thing everyday? Why is it that you feel much more lonelier despite being alone for so long? It was hard to tell in a singular perspective. If only there was someone here to give you some insights on things you couldn't see…

A silver bird lands by your front window and you nearly fell out of your chair as it flapped their wings violently. A machine?! They dropped what seems to be an envelope within the thick bushes before taking off and buzzing into the evening sky. You switched off the lock and lifted the glass within a single movement, snatching the piece of paper so that the wind wouldn't blow it away. Hastily you opened it. Both curious and cautious of why would anyone send you mail in such a discreet approach.

Chère Mademoiselle (Y/n),

I can only imagine the shock of your expression once reading this letter. I'm only writing to you since I assume that your father had already told you those nasty rumours about my past. No matter. I trust that you have a good head on your shoulders to not prejudge people using such miniscule details. I wish to speak with you again. Unless you have other plans staying in that stuffy room of yours, meet me behind the clock tower at 11:00 p.m. Don't be late.

Bien à vous,

H.

"It really is him!" The happiness spreads all across your features as you clutched the letter to your chest. For some reason, your heart wouldn't stop racing. It was a simple yet thoughful action on his part but despite how short his greeting was, every word held the weight of a thousand sparks, "I…I can't stop smiling."

And without hesitation, you prepared to leave. No one noticed your absence.

-------

It was only halfway where you realized that Hector didn't give many details redgarding why he planned this sudden event. You caught sight of him standing under the roofs with his hands hidden behind his back. He had on his signature lopsided grin, brows uneven as he glanced at you casually.

"How very punctual, were you so eager that you couldn't wait?" He teases.

"I was surprised when your bird knocked upon my window," you inform, "Is it something urgent?"

"Not at all. I merely wanted to catch up with old times," Hector tilts forward to emphasize his suggestion, "Care to indulge me for a bit?"

You crossed your arms, "Then what is it that you're hiding behind your back?"

"Hmm?" He hums, "You mean this?"

"Ah!"

Roses. A bouquet of bright red flowers were presented to you, nicely wrapped in fabric. In the language of Fontaine, recieving them could mean multiple of things and you couldn't help but feel hesitant despite his thoughtful gesture, "Why are you giving me this?"

"Is it so wrong for me to be a gentleman? I thought it would be best to prepare you a gift after you put all that effort to come out in such a late hour," Hector mused to himself, "Especially when you had to make sure no prying eyes would catch us."

You let out a small laugh before accepting the bouquet, "I wouldn't go as far to say that."

"Oh?" Although it was hard to see, Hector managed to catch a glimpse of your flushed cheeks hidden behind the flowers. A darken smirk climbs onto his face at the inviting thought of what it could mean, "Tell me more."

The whole night you both spent walking around the empty plaza with only the stars as your guide. They paved a silver path reflected in the horizon above, free flowing like one of the many watercolour paintings hung in your chambers, uncertain where they may lead but you followed them regardless. If it weren't for Hector's inivtation you might have never known about the parts of your city due to the restricted lifestyle you lived. He listened to every one of them. The stories you had to tell when there was no one for you to talk to and the complaints about your brother whenever he wanted to snitch on your actions just to get the praise out of your father. You expressed your frustrations when speaking about your incompetences, joy after reading a good fairytale book written by your favourite author, there was so much to say that you were worried if Hector soon grew tired from them.

"Go on. I'm listening."

And your heart flutters again. Suddenly everything felt so light with each step you took, it was as if you walked across the stars in the sky rather than the heavy pavement of the ground you called your home. But even if happiness was a bliss, it tormented you. Because companionship made you realize how poor your were all along. That you had everything yet you had nothing, slowly withering away like the roses you held in your hand. Convinced that your existence was worth nothing more than nothing itself. Doomed to be dismissed and forgotten. Rotting away...Hector stays by your side as you cried softly into the night.

From a distance the bell rings and echoes just like the time before during Fontaine's grand ball. Hector shows you a secret route so that no one could find you.

"Will you write to me again?"

The request was so innocent, purely from genuine intentions and devoided of anything he had in mind. Hector would always laugh in these situations when things have gone unexpectedly yet pleasingly his way but held back knowing that it would be foolish to waste such a priceless opportunity. And so he gave you his smile, one full of secrets where you had mistakened it as a promise, "Of course my dear."

Every night you could no longer fall asleep since he had occupied your thoughts completely. Sometimes you'd dream of him and their tales would unfold similarly to the ones you have read. It gone to the point where the maids would have to wake you up during late afternoons due to the dramatic change in your sleep schedule. Though, you didn't care what they did to you. As long as no one found out about your secret rendezvous.

You never thought that there'd be a day where you would voluntarily give up reading your beloved fairytales. They were now replaced by a stash of his letters that have been accumulated over the past few months. You read them each day, pacing back and forth within the walls of your room, whispering his sentences as if he were the one saying them to you. He made you feel special. You were addicted to this feeling. Eventually you managed to memorize his words by heart. 

The pages of your diary were filled with notes. Like your very own  fairytale carved into reality. From the rose petal, now dried, to the hairpin he snatched from a distracted merchant and a single strand of his hair you found within your cloak after a warm embrace, all of these items, a remnant of the man you loved were taped up in these pages. Sometimes you could even feel his prescence because it was all you needed. It didn't matter if Clement threw insults about how worthless your existence was, your parents could lock you in this prison if they wanted to but they shall never take away Hector from you. Never. You swear it. He was your whole world and the prince who saved you from a life made of aching emptiness. You would do anything to keep him by your side. Anything to gain his affection.

Anything.

"I had a feeling that you were the culprit dear sister."

Your arms stutters as they clutched tightly on the scrolls you took off from the shelves. The light crept into the room like arms reaching out to clutch around your ankles, warning you for trespassing. You turned around dreadfully to see Clement pressing his shoulder against the doorframe with his arms folded and a wicked expression aimed at your pitiful state.

"Why…Why are you still awake?" You say in disbelief, "I thought everyone was asleep."

"Please. Not only are you shameless but hypocritical as well. You truly are a dissapointment to our family."

"Wait," taking a step forward, you stopped him before he makes his exit, "I'll put them back. Just don't tell father about this."

But like your parents, your brother was unkind. Clement doubles over and hugs his torso, cackling through his teeth, "Is that how it is?" He swipes his arm up and you see a parchment paper held between his fingers. 

"No!"

"Ma chérie (Y/n). I must say all this tenacious effort of sneaking in my letters to your window is becoming more and more tiresome. But of course, you are an exception. I want the scrolls you've mentioned the other day at my lair tomorrow evening. Make sure no one discovers this. I'm counting on you. Cordialement! Hector."

"No…" you whispered, feeling the weight of the world fall upon your shoulders as it shattered apart. Hector. If possible, you hoped that the pieces could just crush you right then and there. Your knees felt weak and a fright takes over but despite your turmoil, Clement didn't show a shred of sympathy.

"So this is why you've been acting odd lately. Pathetic," he flaps the paper tauntingly in his grasp, "I can't decide if I should be impressed or baffled by your actions. A secret romance with a criminal and the bloodline of Fontaine's most respected government associates? Even though you've hit rock bottom, you still decided to dig deeper."

"Clement you don't understand!"  Stumbling upon your footsteps, you desperately tried to convey your predicament even if it meant feeding his ego, "Hector is not the man you think. He was shunned by the people of his hometown, treating him as if he were nothing. They…They ignored him! All this time he needed someone to recognize his brilliance, someone to understand." Shakily, you brought your tensed arms to your chest and screamed a silent whisper, "Someone to listen but no one did. He must have felt so alone…"

Clement flinches when you suddenly clutched onto his biceps. When he looked into your eyes, a shiver ran down his spine.

"Hector is counting on me. I'm the only one who can save him. No one else. He needs me Clement, he needs me!" 

"Tch."

An ear-splitting scream of his hand against your face echoes across the room. It knocked you out of your stance and you bumped into the table, grunting while the scrolls to tumbled to the floor.

"Crazy woman, I'm embarassed to be related to you!"

While you were still trying to regain your balance, your brother had already ran off. It wouldn't be long before he alerted your parents, the clock ticking away like sand until the final hour leaves you with nothing but an empty glass. 

"No," despair swallows the strength away from your legs and you crawled towards where he used to stand, "Don't take him away from me…I need him…"

I can't live without him.

I can't live without him.

I can't live without him.

Tears begin to form by the corners of your eyes as you clenched your teeth. This was no time to cry. Balling your fists, you sprinted out of the room, pushing whatever stood in your way as if you were running for your life. 

And if you considered everything else, it wasn't that far from the truth.

-------

"Hector! Hector are you there?" After arriving upon his house, you began knocking on his door aggressively. The lock clicks and you were greeted by an evidently annoyed man gnawing his teeth together.

"Tsk. There better be a good reason-"

"They're coming for us! We have to go. Now. Before it's too late. My father is probably already waking and making arrangements for you to-"

"Enough, I can't even catch what you're saying," He pinches the bridge of his nose while you were still stuck in a frenzy state. He takes a step back and opens the door wider, gesturing for you to come inside, "Get in already. I have a feeling that this will be a long night."

Hector observes intently at the words you tell him.

Not out of concern but akin to the way he watches the insects react when he exposes them to a different environment.

He was a scientist after all. A madman in which you deliberately fell in love with, so much to the point that he was able to feel pity for once. How you trusted him wholeheartedly with all of your vulnerabilities, emotions and secrets like handing him your parts just so he could put you back together again. Tinkering was always one of his favourite hobbies and he couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of pride at the thought of you being completely wrapped around his finger. 

Perhaps that was the reason why he loved you. Because he didn't love you. He loved you in parts.

"It was only a matter of time," Hector sighs. He sneaks his grasp into yours, knowing how much it affects you and puts on an invisible mask of deciet, "I already knew this day would happen long before anyone could have predicted it."

"You did?" With worried eyes you gazed at him, "What shall we do then?"

Knowing he hit the target, his lips begin to curl up towards his ears, showing his sharp white teeth that shone against the dim-litted room. Hector asks, "Do you love me?"

A silly question. You didn't hesitate to answer, "Of course I do. I've said it many times."

"Prove it to me," Forcing his forehead against yours, Hector commands in a dangerously low tone, "Kill your brother and only then you can truly be mine."

Your brain sutters, trying to absorb what he had just said. Kill? As in to take a life? It sounded wrong. But...was it wrong if the life belonged to someone who ruined yours?

Dumbfoundedly, you glanced into the bloody orbs of your lover, his black pupils thinning into knives while burning in the hellfire of his true colours. Hector runs a hand from the scalp of your hair, down to your cheek before gingerly sliding his fingers at your jawline. He pulled you close and whispered into your ear.

"Are you scared?"

Ah, this wasn't about your feelings. This was about him and your future and there could be no future you without him by your side.

You let your eyelids drop and leaned into his touch, "I could never be scared of you Hector. Whether it is within my power or not, I will make sure no one gets in our way. I swear it."

"Good," he continues to have you feed on his affection, "I knew I could count on you."

-----------

The news of your brother's death filled every headline Fontain had to offer. He was driven off a cliff while making a trip towards Sumeru. No one survived. The remains were so crushed to the point that authorities had trouble identifying their bodies. The only explanation they could come up with by observing the leftover tracks was that the horse must have gone out of control and ended up dragging the carriage along with it.

Ha. Serves him right.

Food poisoning. The vial Hector made was very effective. You made sure to bury it away from your mansion.

With no other choice, you became your family's next heir. Hector notifies you that he would be away for several months to solidify a unique connection with a man hailing from Snezhnaya. You didn't think he would arrive at your doorsteps with so much authority. Fatui soldiers followed from behind as the staff paved a way for them to enter. Your father was clearly displeased by his outrageous approach but he knew he was in no place to deny.

"Upon the agreement between Fontaine and Snezhnaya, Lady (Y/n) will become Harbinger Il Dottore's wife," the Duke announces, "This news will be publicly announced at the end of October."

Dottore? Is that what he calls himself?

As if claiming his victory, Dottore shoots your father a devilish smile. You could feel the dining table shake when he kept pressing his fist against the smooth surface, begrudingly congratulating you both for the new engagement. Your mother bursted into tears.

Was it worth it?

You watched both of your parents mourn silently in their own manner. Perfectly knowing that you were the main cause. But you weren't able to feel any sadness because in the end, you now had everything you've ever wanted. 

The inheritance.

Their attention.

But most of all, him.

And when you were convinced that this was your happily ever after, that fairytales were not just beautiful lies for the sake of comfort, you didn't realize  you were already living a life made of beautiful lies conjured by your own mind for the sake of your own comfort. 

"You're nothing without me."

Dried and calloused hands squeezed around your throat as you flailed your legs against the soft fabric of the carpet floor. He encases you in a straddling position, enjoying the sight of your tortured and clenched face. Hector…no, Dottore hated it when you disobeyed him. He despised it when his creations don't work the way he wanted them to and he had no use for things that are broken.

"G-hka--k..-"

"How many times do I have to remind you to not use my birthname. Do those ears of you even function properly? Or must I fix them myself?"

You gasped for air when he relaxed his grip. Vision a blur, you coughed a few times before he pulls your arm so that you lay flushed against his chest.

"Don't forget who saved you dear (Y/n). Because of me you were able to escape that miserable life you've despised for years. I expect the utmost gratitude on your part at all times, it is only fair that I punish you for not meeting my requirements, don't you agree?" Dottore lifts his hand up to pinch your cheeks, pulling your head to stare at your eyes, "After all, there is no one else in this world who can put up with you…but me."

His words were poison in which you drank like a woman starved. It made you feel numb to the pain the more you drowned in their alluring scent, the taste was sweet, a remedy for the bitterness of reality where the man of your dreams was nothing but a cruel monster. You came to believe that the reason why he treated you so harshly was because he was scared of losing you. You were caught in the trap of what seemed to be love and devotion when truly, you were just a toy to be used at a means end. He breaks you and he puts you back together, over and over again, filling in between the cracks formed in your glass heart with the phrases you loved to hear. Just like how he filled the other holes of your life where no one else did. You called it kindness. He saw it as entertainment.

Most people pay attention to the flower's beauty but they never acknowledge the thorns hidden beneath it's blossom.  That is why they bleed. They get hurt. Though, you didn't mind shedding blood if it was for his sake.

Because you would do anything for him.

You would do anything to bring back the memories of Hector Dufour-Lapointé and save him from the Harbinger that ruined his life. Your life. It wasn't his fault. You knew you could change him to what he was before because you were in love with him, that he might still in there. Somewhere.

Right?

…

Please come back.

Time continues to flow like the tears of your dying heart despite yearning for it to turn at the past. Dottore already left the room a long time ago but you didn't. Raising your head away from your hands, you peered at the door in front of you, begging desperately through a chanting record of despondence. 

Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back.

Images, they slipped through your fingers, slowly becoming more distant until your mind began to see them as illusions. Dreams. Things that were not real. Telling you that your life was a lie. 

"Come back to me…Hector."

Because the man you loved was withering in your memories and you couldn't do anything to save him.

A dry croak robbed you of your breath as you turned to look in the mirror.

Worthless. You were always worthless, it was what your parents told you since birth. It was what you became when he wasn't at your side because without him, your existence was worthless. You lied for him, you stole for him you, took a life for him. You destroyed yourself for him to point that it was hard to believe you were even looking at yourself.

Worthless. It's who I am.

And despite it all, you couldn't obtain his love.

(Crack).

Worthless things don’t deserved to be loved.

(Crack. Crack).

But what if it’s because I’m worthless, that he won’t love me back?

(Crack).

Your eyes jolted open, causing you to gasp sharply. When the sweet lies dispersed in your head and cleansed you of deceit, everything started to make sene. You came to realize why your wish was impossible all along.

Dottore...no, Hector, the reason wasn't because he didn't return your feelings. Neither was it due to the fact that he hurt you through his actions. Nor when he made you cry or scream for help before feeding you with more lies, thinking he would never hurt you again. It was none of those things.

It was because the man you loved this whole time was someone who could love no one but himself.

"Ha...haha," sucking in your breath, a sinister laugh escapes your mouth, "Hahahahahahaha.....!"

Everything was worthless.

You grabbed a nearby hairbrush and threw it at the mirror, watching yourself shatter into a million pieces.

There was only one thing left to do. 

------

"Ugh, where is it?!"

It was late into the night where every staff had gone to sleep. The Harbinger fumbles with his keys while standing at the door of his basement as he was too busy proceeding with his research rather than considering the thought of rest. Usually he acted upon them on his own will, performing various experiments for enjoyment. However, ever since the Snezhnayan court had requested him to look into the ancient arts of alchemy, Dottore was forced to carry it out before the deadline approached. Otherwise his position as Harbinger would be revoked.

"What a bunch of self-centered blockheads. Can't they understand that it take quality time to get quality results?"

Most of his important documents were stored on the otherside. Half of it came from his father-in-law's library. He had you to thank for that.

"Ah finally," he mutters, though still dissatisfied, "I should have a word with my butler for misplacing them."

Dottore shoves the key into the lock but instead of twisting the knob he noticed something strange. It was old and had yet to be fixed but somehow he didn't have any trouble adjusting his wrist. Then he saw there were a set of freshly made fingerprints upon the smooth metallic surface. However, the only person awake at this time would be him-

An intruder!

Dottore drops everything to the ground and yanks the door open. He skittered down the stone stairs while cursing under his breath. Using the delusion gifted by the Tsaritsa, the Harbinger activated his lazer-like pillars as he took advantage of their glow to light up the unlit room.

"What in the abyss...?!"

Except it wasn't dark.

"All of these scrolls, I recognize them," without sparing a single glance, you spoke nostalgically towards the bookshelves, "It brings me so much memories..."

Dottore clenches his teeth together as his eyes shone an angry red, you were holding a torch dangerously close to his hard-earned collection, "What do you think you're doing?!" He fumed, "Put that out, AT ONCE! Don't make me repeat myself!

"They're precious to you aren't they?" You finally shifted to face him, "More than me."

"What has gotten into you?" He was about to hurl at you until he saw your torch lowering, causing him to retreat. You were strangely noncholant and he couldn't help the feeling of disturbance. Accepting that he didn't have the upperhand, Dottore decided to use a different approach, "(Y/n)."

The sound of your name falls from his lips. You faltered.

"I'm sorry for what I have done. I know I was dishonourable to you, as your husband and lover, and that you didn't deserve to see me so aggressive. You have every right to express your anger, my dear. I was in the wrong."

It was only a mask. You knew it well. But seeing him with softened eyes and a tone so comforting, made you desperately wanting to run into his arms so he could wipe away your sorrows just like once upon a time. To live happily ever after.

Hector.

Dottore runs his fingers through his hairstrands in frustration and sighs, "However the Tsarista needed me to do something very important and I can't seem to fulfill her request no matter how hard I try. It angers me. If I don't finish this, there would be no place for us to stay."

"Hector..." you sniffled quietly. He looks so much like him right now.

"Can't you see I'm doing this for you?" He consoles, yet his weapons still remain, "I only intended to make you happy and there's nothing I won't do to achieve that. How about I show-"

"Enough."

Dottore froze upon your sudden command. He didn't sense a hint of subjugation and it seemed that you had perfect control of your emotions. How very inquisitive. Did you grow immune to the style of his voice? In such a short period of time? The facade he had on was now replaced with a growling animal-like expression. You looked at him dissapointedly. His Harbinger self returned. Hector was no more.

"Ha, you're the same as always. Even before the time you became a Harbinger. The same man that I fell in love with but it is me who will never be the same again," For a moment you averted your gaze as if trying hard to swallow your own words, "Remember when we first met at the balcony? That I told you my favourite books to read are fiction? I knew they weren't real but deep down, I wanted to believe in them anyways. And you know what? They did come true, to some degree..."

As the memories come flashing back, he defenselessly watches your expression contort from sadness to a calm contemplation and finally, enraged disgust, "But you only ever brought me pain and I'm sick of it!"

Swaying the torch to the side, Dottore flinches forward but he didn't dare to come close when your current state was unpredictable to him, "I JUST WANTED YOU TO LOVE ME," you wail, I just wanted to be loved, bringing a clawed hand against your forehead and trembling upon contact, "It's all that I ask for..."

Dottore narrowed his brows. Perhaps he may have gotten too far.

"But I know it's impossible. The world is a cruel place and there's no point in trying anymore. That is why I'm going to set us free."

"...What do you mean?"

You shut your eyes closed and tossed the flaming torch to the ground. A horrified expression takes over his features. It didn't take long for the fire to begin spreading amongst the room.

"NO!" Dottore yelled powerfully, he frantically darts his gaze at all directions as they continued to flicker and blend into his precious documents. You stood still and watched him grab the ones that were intact, savouring the most he could but they slip out of his arms every time he moved. Dottore glances behind him to see a rising cage of hellfire. Then he turns to you.

" 'Til death do us part!" you laughed maniacally.

The madman looked back with angry dismay, "You're out of your mind!"

Abandoning whatever he held in his hand, Dottore spins around towards the staircase. He covers his face with his sleeve and did whatever he could to prevent the fire from touching him. However, he accidentally stumbled on his footsteps and something fell off the heights, knocking him in the face. He grunts painfully.

"That will leave a scar," you smile while he clutches at his injury, "I can break you too.”

Just like how you broke me.

Knowing that you've managed to leave a mark of your existence on him in someway, you peacefully watched your lover wobble between the hell you created. But the hell you knew was not made of scorching heat and thundering flames. Hell was empty. Hell was a void. This feeling was far too gentle to be considered hell. If he can't return your love, then at least let these caging arms bask you in the warmth you’ve always desired.

Lifting your head, you looked towards the ceiling and closed your eyes.

Ah, this cannot be death.

[darlingbudsofrae]

Neil Josten Appreciation Post

Foxes Appreciation Series : 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 ||

Alright, let’s just start this by addressing the big elephant in the room: everyone loves Neil Josten. EVERYONE.

If you don’t, you’re lying. 

Okay, first up- I’m glad this is getting addressed more on AFTG tumblr but Neil is literally so much smarter than the fandom gives him credit for.

Like yes, he’s a little dumdum on the social aspect of things (you could argue he kind of has a low EQ but also not really, I would argue that later)

but that doesn’t dismiss that he is smart af and that he can kill you and make it look natural if he wants.

For example, he literally outrun and hid from the mafia for years. Like, that in itself is an obvious point but we often forget that he did this at a very young age.

Like, he was presumably what? 16?? (when Mary kicked the bucket?) And kid was already playing hide and seek pretty well with a freaking mafia.

He does not get enough credit for this.

The survival skills it takes- the mental strength to survive as a runaway and technically he’s also homeless- at freaking 16, that’s just insane.

Also, let’s not mention the fact that it takes skills to forge official papers and all that.

We also do not talk enough about Neil and how he freaking have to relearn an entirely new position just to play exy.

I don’t think most remember that he’s actually a backliner, but have to play as a striker because it was the only available position in that local high school he attended in Millport, and that was how Kevin saw him so he was recruited as a striker.

We also additionally do not talk enough about how Kevin “literal and figurative Son of Exy” Day found potential for court in Neil “I’m a backliner but I’m playing striker because it’s the only thing available and I’m an exy junkie” Josten who only played it for like a year or less. 

Like yeah, Kevin said he needs more training but it’s not even Neil’s official position. 

The talent on this man- I cannot, he is such an icon. 

Aside from his great survival skills and being literally great at picking things up- he’s also like freaking academically smart.

Like that also doesn’t get enough credit- I mean, he does math for fun.

Frankly, I think if you did Kumon or if you had an awesome teacher you could also do math for fun (I know I did) but this should be noted with the fact that he didn’t have proper schooling.

He went on a run at a really young age so there is no way he received formal education.

Which means he is naturally like really smart.

He’s also a polyglot. And the languages he has under his belt are all freaking difficult to learn- like, no kidding: French, German, and he can assumingly speak intermediate Spanish, and we don’t even have an idea if this is all the languages he can speak.

Also, he and Andrew learns how to speak Russian, right? Like, that’s crazy.

The brain on this man and the power that he has- my son, I am so proud.

I mean, for all we know- there’s more than that and the fact that he’s like 18 at TFC screams supremacy.

This is where I argue about his EQ but Neil is crazy perceptive.

It took him like freaking 3 seconds to figure out the team dynamics the foxes have, and how to work against it.

He later figured out how to make it all mesh together.

Like the way he do things isn’t conventional but reading him analyze his team despite his lack of empathy really makes me shudder.

Like, this kid is so freaking smart. I remember reading his thought process for the very first time and being like, okay- I definitely did not think about that.

The main problem with his EQ though is that he doesn’t know how to process positive stuff when he’s involved, but when he’s the outsider- his perspective is so amazing.

Like again, he kind of lacks empathy but the way he understands things and is just so sharp is just noteworthy.

I’d argue he doesn’t understand social cues and “modern teen things” but he isn’t so completely clueless on the social aspect in general as to not manipulate an entire team of misfits with issues to work together.

He’s literally the key to unity in AFTG. Even Dan says so.

Also, the way he puts things into play- like he’s a master manipulator, and I love that for him.

We do not talk enough about manipulative Neil, like I just really love manipulative characters in general so much- especially if they’re just owning it. 

I mean, he freaking manipulated Andrew and Aaron into therapy. Kind of evil but also wow. (just a sidenote, please don’t force people into therapy lol)

Going completely dark for a second, Neil also has a freaking high pain tolerance.

The amount of horrible things he went through in the books were just so sad and the fact that he just kind of moves on from it? That’s just completely oh my gods.

My poor summer child, even if you can kill me at any given time, let me just hug you for a second with consent.

Everyone also gives shit about Neil’s fashion choices and granted it is said he kind of bags the homeless looks but the fact that he values utility above all else-

Yes, we stan a resourceful king. 

Lowkey though, am I the only one who appreciate Neil’s average style?

Speaking of style- I love the way Neil narrates. Like, the way he doesn’t give much attention to how the character looks- it’s just so realistic?

Because if I’m talking to a person in real life, there is no way I am noting how his blue polo makes him kind of casual but clean-cut and how his brown eyes is as warm as my morning coffee. Like, who even does that?

The thing with Neil’s narration is that it’s just so authentic- like it easily engages the readers and the way he gives importance to every thing the same way, it really makes it easier for the reader to discern things objectively, y’know what I mean?

He just has that quality in a main character and narrator- he’s laidback and sarcastic but not trying too hard, and he’s just really easy to love.

Like, I normally don’t like narrators/main characters in books because I favor a side character more or just because they’re annoying, but Neil Josten is legit lovable. 

At the same time, he’s also a really well-written character. Like, for all the technicalities I point out in AFTG, Neil is an asshole. He’s not perfect and I don’t 100% love everything that he does and I love that.

He’s a flawed character but he gives you something to root for- and I just really want to appreciate his characterization for a second. Most books make their characters’ flaws not even their fault to put a check to the flawed character but at the same time still have that perfect character. Eeww, no- give me real flaws to work with.

He’s one of the realest protagonists I ever read.

Like people give him shit for wanting to hide but also choosing to play a nationwide-discerned sport on an infamous collegiate team but for me it’s kind of realistic.

Because I think we, as human beings, also do things we love too much regardless of logic. I don’t know, like it’s kind of funny the way Neil is written but I honestly didn’t see him joining Palmetto as a loophole.

Like, just think of all those successful people who hid their identities via pseudonym or other necessary means to do things they weren’t expected to do or weren’t allowed to do.

For me, his character was really just looking for excuses to play his favorite sport a second longer and if anything, that’s just kind of sad.

But also, his dedication and love to exy is really admirable- like I never understood it but the way he literally does everything to stay on the court for a second longer just makes me want to root for him.

On a random note, Neil may not have an eidetic memory like Andrew’s but the way he memorize most phone numbers by heart? 

Bruh, I don’t even have my phone number memorized and I freaking have it for two years now. 

He also memorizes every twists and turns at every trip, every exits at a room he enters, and most people’s tics upon the first meeting, and other things and that’s just crazy perceptive but also really crazy on another level.

Also, we don’t get much ace/demi representation and out of the few I’ve consumed, demi Neil Josten validates me. He’s legit my favorite character that belongs in the ace spec in books.

I just really love Neil’s character so much- he’s just so amazing.

One thing I always appreciate about Neil Josten is that while he’s not a total angel (sadly), the way he loves the foxes- like he legit tried to mend the team and make sure everyone is going to be okay before walking straight to his death- like I’m with Andrew on this one, what a fucking martyr. Why are you like this and why am I crying?

Neil Josten is by all means not soft, that much is established, but the way he’s just still as precious and must be protected at all costs-

"You know, I get it," Neil said. "Being raised as a superstar must be really, really difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your family thinking you're worth a damn off the court—yeah, sounds rough. Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time."

I love him, your honor- where can I file this adoption papers and do I have anything else to sign?

[wuxiaphoenix]

Worldbuilding: Help Vaunted

Vampires, disease, chi, breath, and blood; it’s all connected. Western vampires drain the life from people with their blood, while eastern jiangshi steal qi from their victims’ breath. (So if you hold your breath, they can’t find you. As was well-illustrated in sometimes wacky detail in the 1985 Hong Kong jiangshi film, Mr. Vampire.)

And both kinds of supernatural killers are known for spreading disease, through bites and evil miasmas. Which gives them a lot in common with mosquitoes. Yes, down to the finding people by their breath. Mosquitoes track carbon dioxide gradients to zero in on their warm-blooded prey. If you can keep that from them, they have a much harder time finding you.

Then again, if you can successfully block a carbon dioxide trail you’ve got something airtight so bugs likely aren’t getting in anyway. Oxygen might not be getting in either. In which case you’ve got bigger problems than itchy bug bites.

So vampires and mosquitoes have a lot in common. Possibly not enough; it’d be refreshing to have vampires that could be warded off by a good swatting. Though maybe these days a good SWATting would work....

What does this have to do with worldbuilding? Research. If you want to build something, say a fantastic version of vampires, you need solid foundations. That often means going back to the oldest sources you can for your research, so you can dig up what was originally written down about a monster, place, or event before someone decided to do a Freudian analysis or (shudder) a post-modern deconstruction of what it really meant.

Don’t make a copy of a copy of a copy. That way lies the blurry gray soulless sameness of AI art and Hollywood Marvel. Instead, think of how they designed the art for Stargate: read all the history, art, and legends, then close the books and create a new vision for the story.

Obviously your ability to dig will be limited by your resources; money, time, how many languages you read and speak, and so on. But persistence can sometimes pull up amazing stuff. I recently found a free article on falconry in Joseon Dynasty Korea, for one; and I’ve dug up vampire lore from all over the place through the years. Modern horror’s focus on the gore and supernatural speed and strength of the vampire ignores the fact that traditionally, once you’ve established that there may be a vampire killing people, the real trick is finding it, so you can deal with the corpse-monster once and for all. Original lore, especially in Eastern Europe, has all kinds of bits on how to track down the vampire’s grave, how to properly stake and/or burn it, and how to trap it in the grave by way of a net, rose branch, or other devices in case you can’t dig it up and dispose of it yet.

Which is a depressingly plausible scenario when vampires spread disease. By the time you’ve pinned down exactly which grave the damned thing is hiding in, your people may be too sick and exhausted to do more than drape a net over the spot and hope to buy a few days for somebody to get their strength back. Cows need to be milked or there’ll be no cheese for the winter. Fields need to be tended. A vampire killing people may not be everyone’s first priority.

Especially if it’s only attacking one family. (Not uncommon in certain areas.) And eh, no one much likes them....

Someone once said that if you watch enough monster movies you realize the problem is less the monster and more people’s reactions to it. Like cutting corners, trying to take advantage of the situation, or just refusing to believe it’s an actual problem until it tries to eat them. Mr. Vampire shows all of these; from fengshui apprentices horsing around with magic (because guys) to rice merchants mixing long-grain rice with the mystically effective sticky rice, to the head of the local police who got his position by nepotism arresting the one guy who knows what he’s doing. Yes, it’s a comedy, but man they came so close to a mass undead uprising.

Yet it didn’t happen. Because enough people paid attention and fixed things once they realized what was wrong. Which takes brains, more than firepower.

Do your research. Help heroes win by their wits!