#i fully intend on finding new reading material

[generallyallaroundweirdo]

saw your tags on my post abt fanfiction, bwwaaaah fanfic beam !!

Fullmetal Alchemist: Reconnection and The Millennium Curse as well as some fics from old fandoms I used to be in can be found if you search "Pengold" on ao3

Okay, I haven't done this before...

That was AMAZING!!! I'm not even a part of those fandoms, but I looked them up, and I am totally reading as many Fullmetal Alchemist books I can get my hands on. I read Fullmetal Alchemist: Reconnection, and I absolutely loved the interactions between Ed and Rowan. Ed's inner dialogue was hilarious to read about, especially because he's thinking about a tiny child the entire time.

I'm still finishing The Millennium Curse, but oh. my. god. the description! The writing felt so poetic, and I know that writing like that can be super difficult to write (and edit), so good job.

[puck-bunnies]

behind closed doors

umich!luke hughes x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw 18+, fingering, praising, choking, not proof read

word count: 2.3k

me and luke were never much of friends, never even talked much. at least, that’s what everyone thought. no one ever knows what happens behind closed doors.

i have not used this app in forever, meaning i haven’t written a fic in quite a long time so this is me trying to get back into writing. sorry if this is not great and a little rushed, i just haven’t written anything in like five months. anyways, try to enjoy this fic and ill try to write more as soon as i can.

i sit in the living room of my best friends boyfriends house, she sits beside me as all of ethan’s roommates take up every other seat. the lightning vs islanders game plays on the tv, having all of our eyes glued to it.

the boys are in a constant state of yelling, wether is celebrating, yelling at how stupid the refs are, or booing the other team. i’m not as invested as usual, my teams aren’t playing, but ill never miss an opportunity to a hockey game.

my mind also focuses on the close proximity as luke sits beside me, our thighs lightly rubbing against each other ever so softly. the warm summer weather left me wearing shorts and a tank top, causing luke’s hand to glide across my bare skin as he secretly places his hand on my thigh.

i never intended on sneaking around with luke, it all just happened one day, the house was empty and quiet. we got to talking, venturing from subjects like our classes, plans for our future, and somehow turning into our sex life.

he learned that i’ve never really gotten quite what i need, never feeling that spark with any guy that i’ve been with. them never wanting to try anything i’ve wanted to, i’ve never been fully satisfied.

he continued to tell me how he has slept around quite a bit. nearly almost always leaving the rink with some new blonde puck bunny stuck to his arm. he didn’t wear it as a trophy, or say that he regretted any of it, all just saying it’s apart of his past. his history he can’t and won’t change.

one thing led to another, his hands roaming my body as my lips bit down on his. my hands squeezing the mattress tightly with every moan escaping my lips.

we didn’t even stop there, whenever we could find a time to be alone, we were tangled in each others arms.

here we are now, not even able to keep our hands to ourselves in sight of one another. i try to shake his hand off, not wanting any of the surrounding eyes to see his intimate gesture. he doesn’t move, squeezing my skin harder. i softly pierce my bottom lip with my teeth, try to calm my nerves. i can feel heat bubbling up to my face, painting my cheeks with a faint blush.

my eyes peer over to him, giving him a pleading look to start behaving. he doesn’t budge, giving me a side smirk before returning his eyes on the game.

rutger groans loudly as the 2nd period finishes, “fuck the lightning.” he swears as they’re pulling a 4-1 lead. he chugs back the rest of his beer, throwing the can on the ground in some grown man temper tantrum.

the ads run during the commercial break, leaving the rest of us to disregard the television for the time being. my heart starts to quicken, without their distraction of the game they’re eyes could fall upon luke’s hand on me.

my mind tries to work fast, but the only thing i can think of doing is grabbing the blanket next to me and covering myself with it, concealing us from the wandering eyes. luke’s lips curl into a smirk, proud of me not forcing him off, knowing that i want it. that i want him.

his hand becomes bolder, rubbing up and down my inner thigh. i bite my bottom lip again, trying to stabilize myself from this new feeling. his fingers become more adventurous, going to the hem of my shorts.

“fuck.” i softly mumble to myself, luke’s soft chuckle tells me that he hears my light groans. his fingers don’t stop there, rubbing up to the bottom of my shirt, toying with the cotton material.

the pads of his fingers brush against my sensitive skin, right across the bottom of my stomach. fire engulfs my stomach, my breath hitches as he rubs softly back and forth, tickling my skin.

the game comes back for the final period, my eyes keep trained on the hockey game, but my mind can only focus on his touch as it drives me insane.

he feels my stomach hitch with my breath, he knows i want him so badly, he knows what he does to me. i squeeze my thighs together, trying to cause some type of sensation in my growing wetness.

i can’t take his teasing fingers anymore, “meet me in my room.” i whisper to him. rising from the couch and walking away from the crowded living room. i head for the direction of the bathroom, making them hear my footsteps as i lead their ears to the door closing. i stay outside the bathroom, tiptoeing to my room in an unsteady waiting of luke.

the door finally opens, luke quickly closing the door silently behind him. a deep breath is all i can hear from him, turning around to look at me patiently sitting on the foot of my bed. he takes a seat beside me, quickly gripping my hips and pulling me onto his lap.

“it’s been awhile since we’ve been alone,” my fingers rake up the back of his head, through his soft brown hair, my finger swirling around a curly lock. “too long.” a soft sigh parts from his lips as my fingers lightly scratch at his scalp.

he keeps his hands on my hips, roughly gripping at my denim shorts. “i missed your hands all over me. you can’t tease me out there and not expect me to want more.”

our bodies come closer, our lips so close together, our hearts syncing their beats. i can barely hold myself back from making up that final inch. “tell me how badly you want me.”

“i want you..” he shyly gives into my need. it’s not enough for me, i feed off of hearing how badly he wants me, his hands rubbing up and down my body, the feeling of his cock being buried deep inside me.

“oh yeah…” my lips attach to his neck, softly kissing down from his jaw.

finally he gives in, “i want to feel you against me, your lips on mine, every inch of your beautiful body baby.”

a devilish smirk spreads on my face, “mmm, is that right?” i mumble against his neck, softly sinking my teeth into his sensitive skin, sucking the spot to soothe it after.

“oh god yes.” luke practically moans out. his hands become adventurous, slowly going down to hold my ass in his hands, gripping at my clothed skin. they make their way down farther, gripping at my exposed thighs while my kisses go back up his jaw.

i crave for his taste, forcefully pressing my lips against his in a hungry state. my tongue quickly sliding into his mouth, hands combing through his messy curls, pushing him closer into me. he guides my hips back and forth on him, i can feel him hardening underneath me.

breaking the kiss to catch my breath, i drop my head onto his shoulders as i feel his hands press against my pussy. my hips still grind on him, but instead of just on his hard cock, it’s on his fingers. “mmm, you want me that bad?” he chuckles, i nod against his shoulder.

he undoes my shorts, exposing the top of my pink lacy panties, his fingers drag down them, going farther into my pants. they settle on my wetness, my hips stop rocking, focusing on the closer touch. “god you’re soaked.”

my lip sticks to my teeth in a harsh lip bite, my walls clench around nothing, begging to be filled by him. his fingers work slow and teasingly, rubbing circles around my clothed clit, watching me squirm on top of him. my back slightly arches, legs slowly opening wider for him to have better access to my aching pussy. “needy, are we?”

i softly whimper, my hips start to grind again, craving more attention from his teasingly slow hands. his fingers move the crotch of my panties aside, touching my wetness with his bare fingers, feeling my folds and them dripping for him. my head lifts off his shoulder, taking a glance down at his hand stuffed down my pants, looking back deep into his eyes.

i take a deep breath out, without a single warning he thrusts a finger in my pussy. making me loudly squeal with surprise. he quickly covers my mouth, stopping his finger in me. “you have to be quiet princess, you don’t want us getting caught, now do you?” he asks. i shake my head no, he hums at my obedience. “good girl.” his voice is in a whisper, softly praising me.

he begins to move his finger once again, letting me adjust to the new sensation before adding another, stretching me out for him. curling his fingers up to my g-spot. finally trusting me enough not to scream, he moves his hand off of my face, settling it down on my hip to keep me steady.

my hands grasp at his curly locks, trying to compose myself. as he adds another finger i bite down on my bottom lip, trying to keep the wanting moans from escaping my lips. a smirk spreads across luke’s face, watching what he can do to me with just his hands. i curse under my breath, dropping my head down to keep my brain straight, the pleasure slowly becoming less bearable.

his fingers quicken, hand comes off my hip and to my chin, lifting my head to force me to stare back into his eyes. “look at me while i’m finger fucking you baby.” my teeth puncture my bottom lip harder, my chest heaving with all the moans i keep to myself. i slip up and let on me out, hard hands hit my throat, softly squeezing. “i thought i told you to keep quiet?”

his grip loosens to allow me to take a breath, closing back up as soon as my chest rises. another finger slips in my cunt, my legs start to squirm, toes curling and hands squeezing his hair. his fingers losen from my throat, falling down to the straps of my tank top. he pulls one strap off each shoulder, one at a time. hooking two fingers at the neckline and pulling down, my tits falling out from my lack of wearing a bra.

he wastes no time before gripping my breast, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive bud. i clench around his fingers, my senses overloading with pleasure. he lowers his head, kitty licking my other nipple. i softly moan, not loud enough for luke to get me in trouble again, but enough for him to know the things he’s doing to me.

my stomach clenches, the feeling i know very well as my head starts to feel light. “i’m so close.” i whimper out. luke doesn’t let up, switching to my other breast, sucking on the nipple before softly biting the skin.

my whole body clenches as i feel my climax, luke’s quick fingers curling inside me quickly. it all comes raining down, my pussy clenching around him as i coat his fingers with myself. he backs up, letting me heave and fall down on his chest to catch my breath.

i quietly curse under my breath, squeezing my eyes shut to recover from my high. i life my head back up to look luke in the eyes. he removes his fingers from my folds, fingers coated with my cum. he slides his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean. my breath catches in my throat again, god damn he makes me want more.

“you’re such a good girl Y/N.” he pops his fingers out of his mouth, “i wish i could fuck you silly right now. but i want to keep all those precious moans to myself, when we can be completely alone.”

before i can even react to his words he puts his lips back onto mine, slipping his tongue in my mouth to let me taste myself. his fingers plant back onto my hips, helping me up to my feet so he can get out from underneath me.

“you go get yourself cleaned up and meet me back in the living room. i pray we weren’t gone too long for anyone to notice.” he whispers, fixing my hair from the sweat that beads on my forehead.

i nod to his words, giving him one last little kiss before he silently slips out of my bedroom. my try to regain my normal breathing patterns, my brain still fuzzy from my previous orgasm.

i obey luke’s wishes, tiptoeing to the bathroom to clean myself off. splashing water into my face to try to remove my blushing red cheeks. i walk back out to the bathroom, seeing everyone engrossed in the final minutes of the third period. i thankfully sigh, slipping back between the guys to sit back down beside luke. he offers me a light smirk, we both then back to the television, watching the game unfold.

[gffa]

I've been a little slow on getting out new STAR WARS fic recs out, but in my defense it's because I've been reading a bunch of longer fics lately. In the spirit of "there's a special feeling to those fics that consume you and make you stay up until 3am because you can't put them down", here's a list of some of the ones I've loved or am in the middle of reading and they are haunting my thoughts and I need to inflict that on everyone else. Whether you're looking at a long upcoming trip and need some good reading material or avoiding your feelings by sinking into fic or just because you like reading, I hope you'll find something here! Including a bonus underrunning theme of throwing in a bunch of Jedi-loving fic to continue my agenda of making Jedi-centric fandom a more fun place to be. 30k+ is the minimum and this isn't all of my favorites, but it's a great list of "I have a week off to kill and I want to be in a fic coma by the end of it".

STAR WARS FIC FOR WHEN YOU NEED TO KILL ABOUT TEN HOURS WORTH OF TIME AND WANT TO HAVE FEELINGS ABOUT FICTIONAL PSYCHIC SPACE WIZARDS WHILE YOU'RE AT IT:

✦ Out with Lanterns by SkyeBean, mace & ahsoka & plo & shaak & cast, 312.5k     In another universe, Jedi Masters Plo Koon and Depa Billaba decide a Padawan could do Mace some good. It takes a while, but he eventually agrees. When he takes Ahsoka Tano as his Padawan, Mace knows that he's broken through a Shatterpoint and changed the course of a life. How, he doesn't know. ✦ Reprise by Elfpen, obi-wan & qui-gon & mace & yoda & anakin & cast, time travel, 558.9k wip     Ben Kenobi dies aboard the Death Star in the year 0 BBY. He wakes up shortly thereafter in the Jedi temple in the year 41 BBY. Haunted by memories and regret, Ben must forge a new path for himself in the Jedi Order of his youth while navigating the murky waters of time travel. Crafting a better future from bitter experience is hard, but learning to heal is even harder. ✦ Take it from the top and try again by mauvera, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & padme & mace & shmi & dooku & cast, time travel, 112k wip     Five years into his self imposed exile on Tattooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi is gifted the chance to go back and bring hope back to the galaxy. With hindsight on his side, he fully intends to save his master, save his padawan, make some new and old friends again, prepare the Jedi for a war they’ll hopefully never see and begin to pull apart all the many tangled threads of the Sith Lord’s plans. Should be relatively easy. Right? ✦ Post Order 66 Exile AU by Livsy, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 46k     Alternatively: after a failed order 66, in which many Jedi still died but the Sith were defeated, an exiled warrior and a boy wander a distant planet and attempt to get along. ✦ Remedial Jedi Theology by MarbleGlove, obi-wan & anakin & jedi & cast, 51.3k     Let us consider the fact that the Jedi Order is a monastic religious organization based out of a temple, with five basic tenets of faith. ✦ Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan Kenobi by stonefreeak, obi-wan & anakin & padme & yoda & palpatine & bail & dooku & mace & quinlan & vokara & ahsoka & cast, 124.5k wip     By an old Republic law, all members of the Jedi High Council are senators in the Galactic Senate, and can thus be voted in as chancellor. A Senator from a less prominent planet has had enough of Chancellor Palpatine's incompetence and calls for a Vote of No-Confidence and the installation of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi as Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. This one action becomes the catalyst that changes the direction of the galaxy. ✦ What We've Become by Vinyarie, vader & ahsoka & cast, 82k     Darth Vader and Ahsoka’s fight on Malachor takes a different path, and Ahsoka actually is able to save her master. Or rather, she’s able to convince him to save himself. Diverges from canon in the last few minutes of Twilight of the Apprentice and goes increasingly AU from there.

✦ time to change the road you're on by wreckageofstars, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & luke & leia & han & ghost crew & cast, time travel, 93.6k wip     The end of the Clone War is near - the fall of the Republic even nearer. Anakin Skywalker, caught up in the events that lead to the rise of the Empire and the loss of everything he holds dear, finds himself sent nearly two decades into the future. Ahsoka Tano, still coming to painful terms with the true fate of her former master, is - not exactly happy to see him. But the Force works in mysterious ways - and the future is not nearly as set in stone as they've been lead to believe. Multi-chapter AU, Rise of the Empire/Rebels-era. ✦ narrower than a razor's edge by bereft_of_frogs, obi-wan & dooku & qui-gon & anakin & sidious & cast, 30.2k     Dooku tips his hand ten years earlier because he can't stand the thought of his former apprentice's murder, and that might just be enough to save everyone...if it doesn't get them all killed first. ✦ soften every edge by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & ahsoka (& anakin), major character death, 48.1k     "Rejoice!" the galaxy says, in the wake of war and the dawning of peace. "How?" Obi-Wan asks. "No," Ahsoka says. (or: Obi-Wan & Ahsoka learn to live on.) ✦ hunting toward heartstill by blackkat, mace/cody & plo & fives & shaak & obi-wan & anakin & rex & cast, 207.2k     Plo has an idea. Mace agrees, and everything snowballs right into hell from there. (Or: Mace and Cody get married in order to give the clones citizen status. Before they can focus on that, though, they're going to have to deal with ancient Sith artifacts, evil prophets, plots to overthrow the Supreme Chancellor, lost planets, monsters warped by Sith alchemy, inconvenient , and Darth Sidious turning his eye on a potential new apprentice. Just...not in that order.) ✦ Cataclasm by dendral, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & waxer & cast, 63.1k wip     For reasons unknown to all but himself, Obi-Wan Kenobi has left the Jedi Order in the midst of the Clone Wars, taking with him a single clone. Anakin Skywalker has been unofficially tasked by the Order to find Obi-Wan and bring him home. Unfortunately for Anakin, it seems his former master is always ten steps ahead of him. ✦ Unexpected Awakening (The Rewrite) by Rhiw, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & feemor & bruck & jango & cast, time travel, 135.1k wip     The life of General Kenobi is cut short at the hands of his Padawan, but the sight that greets his eyes upon awakening is not that of blinding light of the Force, but the Jedi Temple he knew when he was still a youth. As he struggles to understand the path laid out before him, Obi-Wan unwittingly captures the attention of a singularly unusual Temple Guard, and that of a reluctant Qui-Gon Jinn.

✦ Knightrise by deviantaccumulation, obi-wan & ahsoka & satine & yoda & cast, 89.4k wip     There is no battle on Mustafar or in Coruscant's senate building. Instead, a small but still alive Jedi Order rises from its ashes on Mandalore. ✦ Fire and Ice by Yesac, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 111.9k     Anakin wins the duel on Mustafar, but doesn't kill Obi-Wan. Along with Padme, Obi-Wan finds himself living in a chaotic world where the man he thought he knew has become the thing he swore to destroy. Can Anakin be turned back? If so, what then? ✦ Better That a Millstone by Icarus_is_flying, obi-wan & luke & anakin & leia & cast, 86.7k     Vader discovers Luke and Obi-Wan on Tatooine when Luke is one year old and attempts to reclaim the family he threw away. Obi-Wan is less than pleased, and Luke and Leia? They have their own ideas about how their future should play out. ✦ Bloodlines by KCKenobi, obi-wan & anakin & dooku, 35.8k     When an explosion traps them in the same doomed escape pod, Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Dooku are stranded together on Tatooine. The goal is simple: cooperate long enough to survive, and not a second longer. But a shared past has a way of connecting the people we think we know—and bloodlines run deep. [or: your classic family road trip across a desert planet, except your grandpa is, you know, a Sith Lord. And now he's sort of starting to bond with your Jedi dad. And that might be an issue.] ✦ When Darkness Seems to Hide This Place by IllyanaA, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & rex & cast, 136k wip     After killing three of the Jedi Order's best and brightest, Palpatine's fight with Jedi Master Mace Windu goes shorter than expected. Afraid he's lost his chance at recruiting a new apprentice, Sidious unleashes Order 66 across the galaxy, but, per their programming, the Clone Army is not to harm Anakin Skywalker. After witnessing the most painful loss he's ever experienced and injured at the hands of his captors, Anakin is ready to die like the rest of the Jedi, though not before getting his vengeance. ✦ Precipice by shadowsong26, obi-wan & anakin & padme & luke & leia & bail & ahsoka & rex & cast, 253.6k     An AU in which Anakin Skywalker does not follow Mace Windu and the others to Palpatine’s office after they leave to arrest the Chancellor. As a result, he doesn’t get that final push over the edge, and doesn’t Fall. ✦ Averting Galactic Destruction by kj_feybarn, obi-wan & anakin & quinlan & rex & cody & fives & dogma & wolffe & plo & shaak & dooku & sidious, time travel, 44.3k     AKA The Time the Force Sent Obi-Wan Back in Time and Quinlan Vos kept him from Going Kamikaze because let’s be Honest, Being Forced to Come Back in Time Would Suck.

✦ Into the Archives by skygawker, obi-wan & anakin/padme & palpatine & cast, 104.9k wip     After hearing the legend of Darth Plagueis the Wise from Palpatine, Anakin decides that his best chance to save Padme is to break into the restricted Holocron Vault of the Temple Archives to search for information about Plagueis. Predictably, all does not go according to plan. Revenge of the Sith AU. ✦ Live To Fight Another Day by raemanzu, spica_tea, cody & rex & jesse & kix & obi-wan & anakin & fox & cast, 396.9k wip     Clones have their place in the universe, beyond the schemes of Palpatine. Events conspire to place Rex on the path of a new fate, one which will affect the future in ways not even the Jedi could foresee. Loyal to source material and characterizations. Canon-divergent. Starts between seasons 5 and 6 of TCW and explores Rex’s reaction to Fives’ dying words and subsequent events building toward Order 66. Variety of canon characters. No ships. Very Ace and Aro. Strong focus on certain friendships (Rex and Cody, Jesse and Kix, etc) with those friendships playing major roles. Thematically about how the clones navigate loss, trauma, the concept of their enslavement, their identities, etc amongst the larger active plot threads. Content warnings for war-related PTSD, trauma, combat injuries, and all around war-related angst etc in later chapters. ✦ Life and What Comes After by Ibelin, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & padme & cast, 177.2k wip     Obi-Wan dies on Jabiim. Anakin blames himself, doesn't know how to go on and yet - he does. Maybe the Force rewards that kind of thing, or maybe he just gets lucky, but when a mission lands Anakin on a vaguely familiar planet, he gets a second chance to do what he knows he should have done in the first place: save his master. (And maybe a chance to save the galaxy, too.) ✦ Knight-Errant by zinjadu, anakin & ahsoka & obi-wan & padme & rex & jedi & clones, 315.8k     AU - The Jedi Who Knew Too Much. Rex decides to stay "in pursuit" of his Commander; he jumps. Now, with backup, Ahsoka navigates the lower levels and deals with Ventress. Meanwhile, Anakin takes the Order to task, finds a little more support, and things turn out a little differently for everyone. And this is just the beginning. ✦ the massive machinery of hope by Killbothtwins, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & shmi & jedi, time travel, 150.1k     After the end of the war with the Empire, Obi-Wan wakes up in his twelve-year old body. Now all he needs to do is convince everyone he's psychic, trick his Master into taking him on before he's sent to Bandomeer, redeem a few bad guys, and try not to have a nervous breakdown. Pretty easy. It's not like the Sith are lurking on the horizon, waiting to devour the Jedi Order.

✦ The Exchange by MissLearn, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & ahsoka & padme & cast, time travel/body swap, 120k     The Daughter has a bad day and it irrevocably changes the fate of the galaxy, twice over. Or; ROTS Obi-Wan and Anakin are swapped with their younger, TPM, selves. It changes things, in both parallels. ✦ In All The World by Kjellarnen, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 144.8k wip     The story of how Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi tamed each other, from Naboo to Anakin's early days at the Temple. ✦ In Another Life by KCKenobi, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & padme, time travel, 52.3k     Eleven years after the rise of the Empire, a favor to a friend sends Obi-Wan traveling through the multiverse. He encounters different versions of the galaxy and of himself—including one in which Anakin never turned to the dark side. Obi-Wan and this Light Anakin are forced to work together to stop the creation of a disastrous Empire weapon. But as they move through different versions of reality, the timelines become more and more twisted—and the harder it is to distinguish who they are from who they might have been. And—to find their way home. ✦ The Intruder by Hollyoakhill, obi-wan & original clone characters, 82.5k     When a vicious attack from a strange, indestructible monster traps them on a derelict star destroyer, a young clone trooper fresh from Kamino join forces with Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi to find a way to escape. ✦ Conceal Me What I Am by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/anakin & padme & yoda & mace & palpatine & quinlan & cast, omegaverse, NSFW, 108.3k     Separatist Propaganda is turning the Republic against the Jedi Order and the Senate sees no choice but to join in a political alliance to fight dissent on a unified front.An alliance is proposed through an arranged marriage,between a Jedi Knight and Republic Senator. Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi are chosen as representatives of the political union by Darth Sidious, meant to bring ruin to the marriage and the public's support of the Jedi,for Obi-Wan Kenobi is not the Beta he claims. But even Sidious does not know of the secret Anakin Skywalker keeps, that he is not the Alpha the galaxy believes him to be. ✦ Equinox by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 95.9k     During the Clone Wars, Obi-Wan and Anakin crash on a remote planet and take shelter in the ruins of a grand estate only to find they are not alone.

✦ Invictus by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, 40.3k     "He is the balance, the other half, the completion to Skywalker’s soul, a perfect dyad in the force. But while Kenobi is a simple answer, the force also sees the difficulty of the pair coming together in balance. The foundations of the galaxy they exist in pull at them, threatening to intervene in their unity. But this is also a simple problem, for the force is far greater than the foundations of a single galaxy, for it is the foundation of all. So the force enacts its will, to bridge the pair over a span of moments, of years, of eternities, and Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi will fall in love, have fallen in love, and are falling in love." ✦ Neutron star collision by thedunesea, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, 121.2k wip     In the aftermath of Order 66, Anakin Skywalker's miraculous survival after his confrontation with the new Sith Apprentice Darth Vader ignites a sparkle of hope in the remaining Jedi, in the fledgling rebellion and, above all, in his former Master, who thought he had lost everything to darkness. But darkness is generous, and it is patient. ✦ Lex Talionis by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & dooku & rex & cast, NSFW, 187.1k     The ancient Galactic Republic is dying slowly—an ugly death of corruption, sprawl, and decay—with the sin of slavery hanging over its every triumph. The beleaguered Jedi Knights are too few to adequately patrol and police the entire Republic, and are faced with complacency and greed at every turn. Born into a crumbling and stagnant galaxy, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker are faced with the greatest challenge of all: themselves. Obi-Wan likes rules and control. When the galaxy around him stops playing by the rules, what is a Jedi to do? Anakin needs rules and restraint. When the galaxy around him conspires to set him loose, what is his Master to do? Falling slowly or falling fast, falling through lust or falling through wrath—it all leads to delusion and moral decay. What can be born from the ashes? ✦ Atlas of Our Ruin by Ripki, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, time travel, 230.8k     Both the past and the future casts long shadows. Obi-Wan and Anakin learn that the hard way, when a mysterious holocron flings them backwards and forwards in time, forcing them to confront painful truths. But the time-travel is only the beginning… ✦ Seed by bell (belldreams), obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 44k     When Anakin falls prey to a lethal poison, Obi-Wan has no choice but use all his resources to heal him-- no matter how reluctant he is in administering the antidote.

✦ wicked thing by imaginarykat, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & cast, nsfw, sith!obi-wan, 124.2k wip     There are rumours of yet another Sith Lord hiding among the Separatists. The Council sends Anakin to investigate. Anakin has a bad feeling about this. or, the story of how Anakin exists in a perpetual state of intense embarrassment, Obi-Wan is enjoying it a little too much, and everything is, generally speaking, a gigantic mess. ✦ Rulebreaker/Wildheart by chapstickaddict, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & luke & leia & barriss & cast, NSFW, 230k     Darth Vader, the strong arm of the Sith, held loyal to his Order since they took he and his mother from slavery in the deserts of Tatooine. Until he became convinced they killed his wife. He abandoned his Order and disappeared in the chaos of the Clone Wars, presumed dead by all sides. That young Skywalker is known around town as a widower and homesteader; a Nabooian who emigrated to avoid the trade blockade; a father of overly-energetic twins and warding a Togruta war orphan; a decent mechanic if your farm equipment or maintenance droid is acting up. Anakin is a paranoid, over-protective hot mess doing his best to raise his weird pack the way Padmé would have wanted. How the hell is he supposed to do that when his kids and not-apprentice make him haul a half-dead Jedi Master home like a lost pet? ✦ more than a candle by jenmishe, obi-wan/anakin/padme, NSFW, 50.3k     "The dark is generous and it is patient and it always wins – but in the heart of its strength lies its weakness: one lone candle is enough to hold it back. Love is more than a candle. Love can ignite the stars." Or, a few thousands of words of how Anakin, Obi Wan, and Padmé realize many things, which include, most notably, how they feel about each other and how to handle said feelings. Oh, and in the meantime, they deal with a megalomaniac Sith Lord. ✦ Anamorphosis by avocadomoon, obi-wan/padme & anakin & mace & corde & qui-gon & cast, 33.5k     noun, plural an·a·mor·pho·ses [an-uh-mawr-fuh-seez, -mawr-foh-seez]. A distorted or monstrous projection or representation of an image on a plane or curved surface, which, when viewed from a certain point, or as reflected from a curved mirror or through a polyhedron, appears regular and in proportion; a deformation of an image.

[crackedpumpkin]

Hiiii!!! How are you?? I was wondering if you could write a Hiro hamada x fem!reader who’s a kinda famous teen actress?? (Also with tadashi still alive if you don’t mind…In my brain he didn’t die in the movie 🥲)

Hello hello!! I'm doing okay, thanks for asking! Just a bit dead tired from work. I adored writing this, and that rizzed up line hit me outta nowhere i swear i might just be boyfriend material in the wrong vessel bro.

Warnings: Aged Up! Characters, lil Tadashi appearance cause mans not dead in my eyes.

|| ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ || ʜɪʀᴏ ʜᴀᴍᴀᴅᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ||

[ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

You enter the cafe, glancing at the display case filled with pastries and doughnuts. Your mouth waters, your stomach rumbling hungrily. You notice the small chatter around you and become self-conscious. 

In retrospect, someone wearing a broad-brimmed hat and sunglasses with a mask covering the bottom half of their face is bound to draw some looks here and there.

But today’s your day off from work, and you intend to enjoy it fully without being mobbed by the paparazzi. You had decided in the morning to wander around San Fransokyo, maybe even catch a glimpse of the superheroes everyone’s been talking about, when you decided to stop at a cafe for lunch.

You join the short queue of customers, trying to decide what to get as you scan the menu. The big breakfast looks incredibly appealing, and the photo beside its name almost makes you drool. You could really use some coffee to energize yourself as well.

You’re finally in front of the cashier, having waited patiently for the person in front to count their change before they leave. The cute boy in front of you looks to be around your age, and the way he runs a hand through his fluffy hair makes you smile. 

“What can I get you?” He pauses when he looks up at you, slightly caught off guard by your getup. You clear your throat, fighting back the embarrassed flush that blooms on your cheeks. 

“Hi, could I get a large latte and a big breakfast combo?” You request, though your voice is slightly muffled through the mask. 

“Yeah, sure. How would you like your eggs?”

“Scrambled, please.”

“Your total will be eleven dollars and thirty cents.” He tells you. Your wallet is already pulled out, but in your haste to grab the money, your sunglasses slide off your face with a clatter on the counter. 

You freeze, a twenty dollar bill in your hand as he picks it up for you. You take it back from him with a thankful nod, accidentally making eye contact before quickly sliding them back on. 

Your breath hitches in that second, scared that he had recognized you and would call the paps to spread the news that you’re here. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. He probably hadn’t gotten a good look at you, considering that your hat might’ve blocked most of his view.

“Where do I collect the food?” You ask, picking up the change.

“It’s okay. I’ll bring it to you.”

“Oh, do you do that for all the customers here?” You’re surprised, though it’s very nice of them to do so.

“Only the pretty ones.” He smirks slightly with a shrug as he waits for the small printer to spit out the receipt.

Your lips part, trying to find a response after his words render you speechless.

“And I don’t usually give discounts either.” He adds with a small smile, handing you back your receipt. You take it with a shy smile and bashful nod, scurrying to an empty seat next to the window. 

You pull out your phone, already buzzing with messages from your manager telling you to return quickly for a new reading of a script that’s been offered to you. You sigh, not opening any of them before pulling out a book and headphones. You connect the wireless headphones to your phone, slumping back in your secluded corner and pressing play on the music.

You open the book, starting off from the page that you left off. It’s your favourite book, smiling fondly at the dog-eared pages your thumb brushes against. You read for a while, removing your hat and sunglasses and placing them beside you for better lighting. 

You’re interrupted when the smell of coffee hits you, looking up to see the cute cashier that had flirted with you earlier. Your eyes immediately widen, heat blooming on your cheeks as he looks down at you with a grin, placing your coffee and plate of food on your table. 

You try to help him arrange the things on your table, your hands brushing against his when you reach for the salt shaker at the same time. He chuckles nervously, and you also spot a faint red on his cheeks when he averts his eyes with a shy smile. 

“Thanks,” You manage to say, your lips suddenly dry when your gaze meets his.

“No problem, hope you enjoy. I’d love to hear what you think of the Lucky Cat Cafe’s food.”

You nod, filing away the name for any future visits. He leaves with another quick glance over his shoulder, and you tear your eyes away from his retreating figure. You start to eat, glancing up every now and then to see him interacting with other customers. 

When a group of people enter the shop, he greets them with a warm smile, making your stomach flip as you clear your throat, looking away. Your eyes unintentionally settle on his figure again, only to inhale sharply when you notice he’s also looking at you.

Your gaze drops down to your food, feeling hot as the blush creeps up your neck to your cheeks. You’re an actress, for goodness sake, you scold yourself, so act!

You focus on your food, but hushed whispers attract your attention. You look back up, noticing that his group of friends are watching you with wide eyes as recognition fills their eyes. You stiffen, trying to finish your food more quickly. 

You hear the whispers die down, glancing up again curiously to see him frowning and saying a few words to his friends with his hand on his hip, and they glance back apologetically with bashful nods. You quickly nod back with a flustered wave when he smiles at you again.

Once you finish your food, you leisurely sip your coffee, watching the cute guy occasionally. He seems to do the same, sneaking small glances here and there. He’d be talking to a customer, only for his eyes to wander over to where you’re sitting.

You’d know; you caught him doing it a few times.

He finally settles one more customer before walking over and taking your empty plate. “So? How’s the food?” He asks, his friends having wandered upstairs to hang out with someone that looks like his brother, the older one giving him a noogie you chuckled at.

“It’s delicious. And,” You hesitate, “Thank you.” 

It’s genuine, and you’re sure he can sense what you’re referring to when his eyes flicker over to you with a hint of surprise before his lips curve upwards into an attractive grin.

“Anything for a cute girl like yourself.”

[defectivevillain]

this winding labyrinth, ch9

chapter nine: the crawl

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader (reader is not gendered, race-ambiguous, and no physical descriptors are used)

summary:

You wish you never met Hannibal Lecter. But you yearn for his presence. You want to forget him. But he never truly leaves your thoughts. Now, you’re left to pick up the pieces of a broken design. A battle of instinct rages on in your mind—one of bittersweet relief and cloying grief, fearless resolve and poignant regret; a clashing between affection and antipathy, pride and pain. What will win, in the end? Only time will tell.

this is chapter 9, act 2 of this broken design. if you haven't read act 1 or chapters 1-8, this won't make too much sense.

ao3 version | Spotify playlist

Warnings: smoking, addiction, withdrawal symptoms, suicidal ideation; animal death, typical gore/violence

A bit of a disclaimer here: the reader is somewhat forced to curb their smoking addiction, which results in several withdrawal symptoms. Their addiction isn’t intended to be a centerpiece of this fic in the slightest, so the pacing of that part of the story may seem a little fast. I want to restate that I don’t intend to romanticize addiction or substance abuse in the slightest—I tried my best to do some research and ensure that this depiction was as accurate as possible. Hopefully, I haven’t made any missteps along the way.

Jack took away your lighter and your cigarettes. He even went so far as to appear on your front doorstep and demand that you turn over any remaining materials you had at home. It was utterly humiliating and dehumanizing to have your privacy so swiftly broken. Not to mention, it felt incredibly patronizing. You’re a fully-grown adult, not a child who needs disciplining. You’re able to make rational decisions and monitor your own health. And yes, smoking was having a poor effect on your health. But you had already considered its adverse effects and decided to ignore them (and even embrace them). 

Truthfully, you hadn’t thought that your new habit was consistent enough to create an addiction, but you were wrong. In the hours following Jack’s house visit, you’re shaking and trembling as you stare off into the wall in front of you. Your mouth feels dry, your eyelids feel heavy, and a persistent nausea climbs up your throat, threatening to spill past your lips. Most of all, you feel terribly… empty. There is an utter lack of emotion and color to your life. Everything bores you, nothing excites you. 

Typically, when you feel uncertain or are struggling with something, you’re able to throw yourself into work. But now, when you focus your attention on work, you find yourself experiencing a new emotion as you meet the hazy eyes of the corpses of victims: envy. When you blink and look down at them, you see yourself lying on the cold metal table—skin mottled and entirely motionless. 

You’re starting to think you won’t feel anything ever again; you’re succumbing to the seemingly infinite fog suffocating everything and everyone around you. Everything lacks substance. Nothing gives you fulfillment. Life is horribly muted and painfully monotonous. You wake up in the morning, pretend that your breakfast tastes like something, drive to work, toil away at your desk (and occasionally find yourself in the field), force yourself to eat lunch, do more work, go home and pretend your dinner isn’t the same meal as the night before—only to fall asleep and repeat the cycle all over again. It’s all an act—a performance to convince yourself and Jack that you’re capable of getting better—even when you don’t believe it to be true.  

Surprisingly, somewhere along the way, going through the motions—as miserable as they are—begins to yield results. You begin to feel the familiar stirrings of rage and disgust in your gut as you come across corpses; grief and remorse when you’re left to the shadows seeping through the corners of your home. You’re slowly picking up the pieces of your shattered psyche. 

…But then the card tower of coping skills you spent time delicately arranging topples down into a scattered mess. But then the pendulum tears through the air in front of your eyes, until you’re standing at the top of a carpeted staircase and looking down at a woman’s sprawled body with the taste of copper settling on your tongue.

Through the shadows, you can see her husband crawling on the ground—dragging himself towards you in a futile attempt at resistance. You grab his hair and yank his head up, promptly pushing the barrel of your gun to his temple and firing a shot he will not survive. The children are swiftly eliminated with the same unapologetic cruelty—necks twisted brutally and viciously. 

You look down at your bloodied hands and inhale slowly, feeling a strange sense of serenity and peace overtake you. The Jacobis and the Leedses were small steps towards your desires; this family is a much bigger lunge towards them. Even so, you feel a magnetic pull towards the bathroom tucked away in the corner—a visceral urge to punch the mirror and dig your fingers into the shards of glass. But you cannot leave fingerprints, so you have to settle for placing a shard in your pocket and making a quick departure. There is nothing left for you here. 

The pendulum is unyielding in its descent, as it roughly pulls you back to the present moment: back to the chilly white walls of the lab and away from the trickling warmth of crimson running down your fingers. You’re not sure how much time has passed since you entered the laboratory—nor do you really recall entering the space in the first place. Yet here you are: staring down at the mother’s wide, milky eyes and wishing they could tell you more. 

Jack and you are standing over the table in utter silence. You can’t pinpoint exactly what Jack’s feeling, but you’d wager it’s a mix of guilt, frustration, pain, and exhaustion. Well, the pain and exhaustion may be projections. Your limbs have been trapped in an eternal state of dull aching; the skin on your face feels drawn far too tight across your cheekbones and jaw. There’s a weird taste settling on your tongue and a desperate tremble to your hands. You haven’t been sleeping well lately either. It’s almost as if your body knew that something was about to happen, because, in the past few days, you’ve only slept for a collective few hours. And you doubt your sleep is going to get much better, now that the image of the fresh corpses is thoroughly cemented in your mind. 

While the pain ebbs and flows, as you suspect, your sleep gets worse in the coming days. The unfounded dread from before gives way to skin-deep grief and persevering self-loathing. You’re sleeping at short intervals—with long periods of restlessly staring up at the ceiling interspersed across them. Even as your withdrawal symptoms start to fade and color slowly bleeds back into the world, you still feel miserable. You’re exhausted and overworked. Life as an FBI agent is hard enough on a full ten hours of sleep and a complete breakfast. You’re lucky if you get five hours and a bite to eat on the way out of your house in the mornings. 

Throwing yourself into your work has never been a healthy solution to your problems, and this newest attempt is no exception. Bloodied, misshapen corpses follow you into your dreams and your waking mind. You can’t stop contemplating the nature of your existence—what has gifted you continued life, while children’s flames are brutally snuffed out without a moment’s hesitation. You’re going more and more fidgety as time passes—a confusing contradiction to the lethargy and fatigue that assault you the moment you wake. You’re trapped in a strange state of unreality, bogged down by reminders of the life you reunite with every morning. 

You can barely think straight. Your mind feels like a giant mess of a cobweb, with strings shooting around in all the wrong directions. There is no clear path to the answers you seek—and, frighteningly enough, you don’t think you can even remember why you want those answers in the first place. What are you fighting for? What are you running towards? Is this really your fate: waking up to fall asleep, avenging the dead to live? What happened to that determination from your training years—that visceral desire to push yourself up from the ground and keep at it? You can’t remember the last time you felt genuinely motivated to walk into work.

Even Jack has noticed your changes in behavior, but he’s so swamped in work that he never seems to address it. Besides, that responsibility isn’t his—you should know when you’ve reached your limits; you should be able to call things off when it gets to be too much. You’re an experienced agent by now—you should have some sort of process for all this. But you don’t have anything. Instead, you’re falling victim to a merciless cycle of hope and despair; anger and remorse; anticipation and apprehension. You’re fading, just as the lifeless corpses on the spotless lab tables.

It certainly doesn’t help that the newest murder comes with a frustrating lack of substantial evidence. Shattered mirror fragments can only reveal so much. Jack and you seem to come to the same troubling conclusion, as you lock eyes in the dim warmth of his office. 

“We need to talk to Hannibal,” you realize aloud. The recognition settles into the air uncomfortably. 

“I’m afraid so.” Jack appears resigned, but not defeated. The two of you both know that Hannibal likely has information. The only problem… is trying to get him to reveal it. “Would you like me to accompany you?” 

“No, I’ll be fine,” you deny the offer. Sensing that Jack is impatient, you push yourself out of your chair and head for the door—only for him to interject just before you can leave.

“Agent,” Jack remarks. You freeze and turn back around to face him, unsurprised to find a grave expression on his face. “Don’t let your guard down. He is not assisting us out of the goodness of his heart.”

Then why are we seeking him out again?  You think wryly. 

“I think you know we have few other options,” Jack responds. You hadn’t realized that you uttered that last thought aloud. “Believe me, I would love nothing more than to leave Lecter to rot in his cell. But this killer is far too similar to him. He will have valuable insight, even if he hasn’t revealed it yet.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “What if he never reveals it?”

“Then we’re in trouble,” Jack admits darkly. On that note, you leave his office and head out of the building. Once you make it to your car, you’re quick to pull out of the parking lot and begin the drive to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. You don’t have to use navigation to get there anymore—and that small realization is rather frightening. You never wanted this—never wanted him —to be a part of your life again. In the years following Hannibal’s surrender, your life was blissfully quiet. The voices in your head were subdued. Now, they’re back in full force—scolding you for everything you haven’t yet done. 

You go through the motions of the entrance procedure, coming back to yourself just a few steps from the door that leads to the corridor with Hannibal’s cell. You contemplate turning around and walking away, as you have done many times before. And, just as you always do, you reach out and open the door. The door lets out an ominous creak, betraying the fear and apprehension that keep you firmly frozen in the doorway.

Eventually, you somehow manage to convince yourself to keep moving forward. You take one step, then another, then another. Through this process, you find yourself standing in front of the ever-familiar glass-wall of the Ripper’s enclosure. You take a slow breath and attempt to steel your nerves, despite knowing the effort is futile. 

To your surprise, Hannibal doesn’t notice you right away. Instead, he seems to be looking at some sort of paper with rapt attention. You squint and attempt to get a glimpse of what he’s reading, only to recoil upon reading the headline. It’s an article from TattleCrime—the one about you that was published a few years ago. There’s a picture of you on the front cover—glancing off to the side with a stormy expression on your face, the scar ripping through your cheek fully visible—underneath a bolded headline speculating about the nature of your “relationship” with Hannibal. 

Fortunately, you haven’t been featured in TattleCrime since your unplanned friendship with Freddie. But seeing that paper in Hannibal’s hands transports you back in time: to a deceptive tranquility and a comfortable silence that clung to your home’s walls. You remember the feeling that stirred within you as you read the article for the first time. After all, back then, you were doing a rather good job at compartmentalizing any and all thoughts about Hannibal. But that article was the first to crack through the walls you erected and invade your mind with unwanted thoughts. 

When you remember your surroundings and refocus on Hannibal, you find that he’s already staring at you unabashedly. Your gaze falls to the paper in his hands and he makes no attempt of concealing it, instead offering you a smile and placing it on his desk. Something ticks in your jaw. You hold back any sharp remarks as Hannibal gets up from his chair, stalking over to stand across from you. His hands folded behind his back, he levels you with an intent look. He seems to be scrutinizing you—and it almost appears as if he doesn’t like whatever he finds. 

“You look…” Hannibal starts. You’re suddenly incredibly irritated. 

“Awful, I know,” you finish for him, sick of everyone you meet scrutinizing your appearance. Well, “everyone” is a bit of an exaggeration—a playful remark from Bev and a quick inquiry from Jack was all you really received. But you’ve noticed the wary glances that have been paid to you at crime scenes; the way everyone has been giving you a wide berth, as if waiting for you to snap and lash out. There aren’t any words that can overstate your exhaustion. 

“I was going to say exhausted,” Hannibal says with a thin smile. He pins you down with an attentive gaze. Your hand twitches at your side as you notice just how close he’s standing. Taking a deep breath, you try your best to maintain your composure and remain frozen where you are—even as your heart races along your skin. Your eyes are burning from fatigue. “How much sleep did you get last night?” He asks. 

“Is this a doctor’s appointment?” you snap bitterly. Hannibal doesn’t respond. You take a deep breath again, recognizing that he isn’t the source of your frustration. “…Three hours.” You decide to answer honestly, after a few moments of contemplation. There’s really no harm in providing him with such a useless detail. 

“Have you been having difficulty concentrating?” Hannibal hums, his gaze flitting about your face. He almost looks concerned. You may be tired, but you’re not dazed enough to mistake the turn of his lips as genuine distress. You cross your arms over your chest, then let them fall to your sides when you remember how much you’ve been doing that simple gesture in front of Hannibal—as if you’re attempting to shield yourself from him. The effort is futile, though. You have no agency in the affair—if Hannibal wants to know something, he will learn of it. “Memory problems? Worsened moods?” He presses. You’re idly reminded of his background as a surgeon… and then sickened by the subsequent contemplation of how many people he covertly harmed under the knife. 

You’re beginning to get a headache. Admittedly, you have been experiencing all of the symptoms he mentioned—in varying degrees of severity.  “What’s the prognosis?” You ask in lieu of providing an answer. Hannibal nods knowingly. He’s more than familiar with your avoidance, just as you are more than familiar with his loaded questions and ambiguous answers. 

“Sleep deprivation,” he remarks. You exhale in amusement. That’s far from a revolutionary diagnosis—you could’ve pieced that together yourself, even with your minimal medicinal knowledge. (After all, the FBI never taught you how to heal people–only how to hurt them.) “And the lingering traces of withdrawal. Why haven’t you been sleeping?” Hannibal continues.

“Nightmares,” you admit. A phantom shiver rolls down your spine, sending goosebumps across your arms. 

“About what?” Hannibal is practically leaning forward in interest. You don’t want to give him more ammunition, but damn it, you need information on the Tooth Fairy. And, perhaps, if you can get him in a good mood… then he’ll be a bit more forthcoming. After all, that’s what you’re here for… right? …Right?

“The newest victims,” You respond. Hannibal is staring at you expectantly, as if waiting for you to elaborate. Somehow, that’s when your mind shuts off and the desire to speak fades into obscurity. You settle for shaking your head silently, not wishing to summon more thoughts of bloodied stains splattered across homey walls. 

“Perhaps you should return home,” Hannibal suggests a moment later, clearly sensing that you would rather be anywhere else. You pay a fleeting glance at the security door from which you came, wishing you had such a luxury.

“No, I need to keep working on this,” you maintain. “Here.” You take a few steps to the side and slide a photo through the small mail slot. The photograph has been burning a hole in your pocket since you prepared for your visit here. And regardless of how many times you ran your fingers over it and ensured there wasn’t so much as a single paper clip attached to it, Hannibal’s predatory approach to the mail slot puts you on edge. Standing across from you once more, Hannibal looks down at the mail slot and stares down at the photograph. Your stomach churns as he takes it in his hands. But he barely gives it more than a second of his attention. Just as quickly as he picked the photo up, Hannibal places it back down in the slot. 

“I don’t wish to look at this,” he announces, sliding it back through the slot. 

You choke on a laugh. “What?” You stare at him in surprise. The expression on his face is completely blank. “Don’t tell me you’re backing out now.” You scoff and stare at him, irritation and helplessness assaulting you. 

“You need to go home, Detective.” Hannibal asserts, enunciating his words carefully. What is it with everyone treating you as if you’re made of glass? Do you really look that pathetic? Sure, you have impossibly dark circles under your eyes and a general sluggishness about you, but that doesn’t seem like cause for such concern. 

“The newest victims,” you continue determinedly, pretending as if he hadn’t spoken. “Another family, two parents, one child. Mirrors shattered. The wife had strangulation marks, bite marks on the neck.”

“Enough.” Hannibal orders, his voice cutting through the static in your mind. You blink and lurch forward, placing a hand on the glass to brace yourself as a wave of vertigo hits you. When your vision finally clears, you’re surprised to find Hannibal on the other side of the glass, his hand extended to match yours. There’s a stormy expression on his face. 

“Leave,” he says. “If you return well-rested, I will discuss the murder with you.” Hannibal doesn’t leave you much of a choice. If you want his perspective, you’re going to have to come back later. You grit your teeth and walk away, bidding him a quick goodbye and shoving your trembling hands in your pockets. 

Your suffering doesn’t end there, however, as you nearly crash into Frederick Chilton on your way out. He steadies you with hands on your shoulders, looking at you intently. “Lecter seems worried about you,” he prompts. 

“Hm?” You ask, admittedly zoned out.

“Lecter seems worried about you,” Chilton repeats, his brows furrowing. 

You squint at him in disbelief. “Sure,” you decide to say, if only to appease Chilton. Unfortunately, Frederick Chilton must be the densest person on the planet, because he refuses to drop the subject. 

“I have to admit, you look tired,” Chilton says after a moment. Somehow, the look on your face must be enough to convince him that you don’t want to talk, because he holds his hands up in surrender.  “Alright, I won’t fight you on this. Get home and get some rest.” 

You mutter a goodbye and head back to your car. The ride home is uneventful, save for your eyes stinging with exhaustion. Unfortunately, you don’t get rest. Rather, you find yourself sitting across from Jack as he brainstorms a way to draw the Tooth Fairy out of hiding. It’s clear that the killer will continue to kill every full moon, and you’re regretfully lacking in evidence. If you don’t have a new lead soon, another group of innocent people will die. The thought keeps you tossing and turning that night, until you’re walking into the bureau the following morning with a renewed vigor. You restlessly ruminated over the Tooth Fairy murders that night, neglecting sleep in favor of attempting to dissect the same few pieces of evidence again. Is it insanity to do the same thing over and over again, expecting different results? You’re not sure. 

Regardless, you do come to some sort of conclusion. It doesn't necessarily have to do with the existing evidence; rather, you have an idea of how to draw the Tooth Fairy out of hiding. You tell Jack as much that early morning, and he looks at you tiredly over his mug of steaming hot coffee. He eventually places the drink aside and asks you to elaborate. 

You go through your existing characterization of the Tooth Fairy, starting with what he looks like and moving on to his personality. There, you remind Jack of the man’s pride—and how that pride and arrogance led you to develop an idea. At that point, Jack is practically foaming at the mouth with how much you’ve been leading him on. You eventually abandon pretense and tell him outright. 

“I think we should set up a TattleCrime article,” you say. “In it, we’ll characterize him to be a sexual deviant and a monster, amongst other things. Then, when he sees the article—which he will—he’ll take out his anger on the closest target.”

“Which is…?” Jack trails off, staring at you expectantly. You gesture to yourself and understanding passes over his face. He contemplates the idea for several minutes, his hands folded in front of him as his elbows rest on his desk. You almost want to accuse him of being distracted, but it’s clear from the look in his eyes that he’s meticulously analyzing the plan you’re suggesting. You both know it’s risky, but at this point, you don’t feel as if you have a choice. You need to catch this guy—or, hell, at least get something on him.

Hours later, you find yourself in a conference room at the Bureau with a rather unique group of individuals: Jack, of course; Freddie Lounds, journalist for TattleCrime; and Frederick Chilton, the head administrator at the Baltimore State Hospital of the Criminally Insane. The four of you quickly review the basic information on the Tooth Fairy, before Jack takes the lead with creating a suitable narrative for the story. Freddie types notes rapidly on her laptop, while Chilton divides his attention between staring at you and providing unwanted commentary to Jack. 

Then comes the fun part: inventing provocative remarks about the killer. It isn’t exactly hard to do, considering the mirror fragments he always leaves behind. The Tooth Fairy is a man deeply wounded inside—longing for acceptance amidst a society and world that doesn’t understand him. That’s the sugarcoated way to put it. 

“He is a sexual deviant,” you say, the words practically slipping from your lips of their own accord. “A predator that preys on innocent people and gets off on killing women because that is the only time when he is able to exude power and authority. In all other aspects, I daresay he is small—in stature and in presence. He is hopelessly insecure, and seeks external enlightenment to mask his many flaws.” If there’s one generalization that can be made about the Tooth Fairy’s ego, it is that he loathes being underestimated, objectified, and otherwise scrutinized. No doubt these comments will drive him absolutely crazy. At least, that’s your hope. And judging from the somewhat surprised and impressed look on Jack’s face, you think your statements are suitable. After all, if the killer is secretly as fragile as you suspect him to be,  he will take offense at virtually any insult—even if there isn’t a grain of truth in it. 

Some time later, Freddie has gathered everything she needs for the article—save for an accompanying photo. She seems to think that a picture of Chilton and you will do nicely, and Jack agrees. Outnumbered, you suppress your objections and stand next to Chilton. Freddie adjusts the angle and the camera flashes, freezing everything around you. A feeling you thought to be vanquished has just reared its ugly head: fear. You will be faced with the brunt of this killer’s attack, unless you somehow divert it. 

In a spur of the moment decision, you clap a hand on Chilton’s shoulder. Admittedly, the physical contact is entirely purposeful and pointed. Through the gesture, you’re forging an association in the killer’s mind and passing off the blame to Chilton himself. If you’ve characterized the killer accurately so far, there’s a good chance he’ll take his anger out on Chilton. 

The irony is not lost on you. When you were held captive by Abel Gideon and forced to point a gun at Frederick, you couldn’t take the shot. You had pushed him to the floor and inadvertently saved his life. Now, you’re holding the gun… and you’ve just fired the trigger. 

You tilt your head in what feels like slow motion to look at Chilton. Suddenly you can see him lying dazed on the kitchen floor, eyes glazed and hazily crooning at you, “See?” Suddenly there’s a bullet carved neatly through his temple, and his body lurches backwards and falls to the floor of the dimly lit hallway of that crumbling house you were trapped in. Suddenly he’s ripping his way out of a horse’s womb, covered in blood and guts, and you’re firing at him with nothing but rage in your heart… 

You blink again and look ahead. The camera flashes once more, sending dizzying spirals across your vision. 

You just sent Frederick Chilton to the gallows.

next chapter

endnotes: I really don’t think I did the TattleCrime article justice. In the TV show, Will goes OFF on the Tooth Fairy and it’s savage as hell.

Recent movies/shows I've watched: Chucky (1-3), Halloween 2 (the bloody tears almost made me cry), Late Night with the Devil, and The Patient (went back and finished it; it was fucking awesome)

thanks for reading!

look forward to a new POV in the next chapter Ψ(`_´ # )↝

hannibal taglist: @its-ares @tobbotobbs @xrisdoesntexist @gr1mmac3 @tiredstarcerberuslamb @yourlocalratwriter @kingkoku @kahuunknown @atlas-king1 @pendragon-writes @slipknotcentury @cryinersaved @the-ultimate-librarian @starre-eyes @pendragon-writes @peterparkeeperer @gayschlatt69 @flow33didontsmoke @mrgatotortuga @house-of-1000-corpses-fan

[nerdieforpedro]

20 Questions of Writers 📑

I was tagged by @frenchiereading @avastrasposts and @maggiemayhemnj (Bless the three of you. You know a dissertation is coming 🤣🤣🤣) 💜

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 81 works on AO3. There are some that are there and not on Tumblr yet. As to why, some of them are other series I haven’t finished or I’m not sure if I should post them here.

2. What is your total AO3 word count?

As of today: 351,908 words (updated for a new chapter of one of my works)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently: Pedro Pascal, Oscar Issac, Garrett Hedlund and might dabble in Call of Duty (maybe)

No longer writing: Marvel

4. Top Five fics by kudos: (some of these were written long ago, when Nerdie was a wee one in fandom)

Sard’ika Sessions (the most in kudos and hits- it tells me ya’ll like Din being a soft dom and using several different tools, maybe at the same time?)

Our Journey Across the Star Ocean (people enjoy the way I write Din maybe?)

The Viper Longs for Foliage (the one fic I have about Oberyn Martell - I don’t feel I write him well but people feel differently I suppose 🤔)

The Best and the Worst Day (AO3 only - Chris Evans fix it was a phase 🫣)

I want him to see me (AO3 only - I had to look up what this was lol Sebastian Stan fic)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I make sure to go through my inbox to reply to anyone who was nice enough to leave me one. ☺️

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Bold of you to assume I finish fics regularly 👀

Scarlet Stains and their Echoes Such angst with a Backstreet Boys joke thrown in. 😆

7. What is the fic you wrote that has the happiest ending?

This is a three way tie (cheating because Nerdie is not above it) between Sard’ika Sessions, The Lake Between Us and Parts of you Mr. Morales. Each fic has a different Pedro character - Din, Ezra (I had to give him something happy 😭) and Frankie.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not that I’ve seen. I totally thought I would and that’s why something stay on AO3 or in the WIP folder but so far I have not. It’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

9. Do you write smut?

I used to. I used to write a lot and enjoyed it. I find now that when I write smut it’s awkward and takes me at least a month to finish a smut scene because despite watching and reading reference materials (porn and other awesome smut fanfic here and on AO3) I don’t have the same mojo when writing it any more. I feel a bit sad about it, but there’s nothing that’s worked. It’s not like I don’t have thots. I just can’t get them in a fic. 😭😭

10. Craziest Crossover?

I haven’t really done many. One m/m fic where Din and Poe crossed blasters (pun fully intended), one sandwich with a female reader, Lucian Flores and Benny Miller, My Tim Rockford series where Dieter is his brother and that’s about it I think 🧐

11. Have you ever have a fic stolen? Not that I know of. So happy I’m in my small weird little box 📦

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not that I know of.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic? Nope I would be open to it but I dunno how the process would work.

14. All time favorite ship? The Razor Crest, it has room for passengers. 😆

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Such heart ache 😣 My first series that I started was with Dave York (he was done so dirty dammit!) and it was pretty smut filled. Felt with him and the OFC’s messed up dynamic as well but because of all the smut and how I can’t seem to write smut to save my neck now, it will likely go unfinished. 😭

16. What are your writing strengths?

Honestly, I’m not sure. Maybe just the weird plot ideas I can make and dialogue. That’s about it.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Finishing a fic, SMUT, weak comedy (I can’t resist it though), fixating on small details that don’t matter and everything that wasn’t listed as a strength. What is writing really? Can I make the words go together? 😨

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Pretty cool, just make sure you ask a native speaker in that language to look over things before posting. I have found that some of my Spanish is too literal and no native Spanish speaker is actually going to say that. Plus each language always has little nuances you need to take into account.

19. First Fandom you wrote in? Marvel 👀 Look it was a phase dammit! 🫣 Leave me alone. 😭

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Nerdie will cheat again, because this is her post! 😆 I enjoy all my fics. Otherwise, why would I write them? But one stands above the rest. It gives me all the feels, giggles, some funny banter, smut that took a damn month to write and inspired @soft-persephone to tag me in a meme that @boliv-jenta made, Weddings 101 with Dieter.

If there’s one fic that I feel has the majority of my writing (all styles and facets) in it, Weddings 101 would be it. My humor, agnst, attempt at making a villain and sub-plots, slow burn romance with a goat as Dieter’s ride or die. 🤗 That trash panda gave me a lot so I wrote him a wild ass series. 😋

NPT: @tinytinymenace @megamindsecretlair @perotovar @pedroshotwifey @lady-bess

@djarinmuse @alltheglitterandtheroar @inept-the-magnificent @lotusbxtch

@jeewrites @rosecentaur1916 @westside-rot @jessthebaker @trulybetty

@rhoorl @musings-of-a-rose @saturn-rings-writes @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @magpiepills

@secretelephanttattoo @morallyinept @goodwithcheese

[raccoonfallsharder]

here are a few sneak previews of what we’ve got going on (this is really more to organize my thoughts and force myself to come up with titles than anything else)

upcoming rocket raccoon fics behind the cut

1. Window Across the Galaxy

aka long&angsty. hoping to start posting on Sunday or Monday.

Slooowww burn + eventual smut. elements of hurt/comfort because rocket is the saddest-angriest boy. Slight AU starting pre-GOTG volume 1 (but will hit most of the same major plot points).

Rocket is captured by a Ravager crew hoping to get rich off the excessively large bounty on his head. Throwing a wrench in everyone’s plans is the Terran girl they hired to do some freelance assessing on a recent haul of goods they’ve seized from a Xandaran luxury liner. Oops.

She looks at the rusted bars, and back to her brute of a tour guide, and sighs heavily. Slowly, she turns back to the cage, swaying toward the bars so she can peer in at eye-level. She’s immediately face-to-face with the creature. His ears are still pressed flat against his head, fur bristling, and he’s gazing back, clearly suspicious and probably - justifiably - feeling more than a little bit mean. She’s suddenly certain that if she got close enough, he’d take out her eyes. There’s no helping herself, is there? One corner of her mouth twists up in exhausted resignation and she nods. “Welp,” she says solemnly to the raccoon, “fuck me, my dude.”

2. Blackmail Material

(codename: pwp???). will probably post part 1 in a week or two.

just pure fucking smut. this was gonna be two parts but I'm leaning toward three now (smut // fuff // smut). probably takes place sometime after endgame but before volume 3? not that it really matters tbh because there is NO FUCKIN PLOT HERE. ur girl's got a praise kink so that'll definitely be featured per usual.

basically: rocket finds your vibrator.

“I’ll tell you what,” he offers up, still grinning that shit-eating grin. “I won’t say a word and I’ll give it back to you. You can even keep whatever batteries are in it.” That sounds too good to be true. You raise a brow and cross your arms in front of your breasts. “If?" “If you let me watch you use it,” he challenges, eyes daring you. “For science.”

3. Domestic Scenes in Space Travel

(codename: ok sweatshirt girl.) i dunno -maybe post the first one by mid-august?

Comics-inspired but not exclusive - just a buncha feel-good fuffy one-shots and equally feel-good smutty one-shots. Series of slice-of-life readerxrocket one-shots following The Very Boring Adventures of Space Pilot & Sweatshirt Girl.

“Just try not to push any buttons or pull any levers till you know what they do.” You snort. “I fully intend to keep my hands completely to myself unless I have your explicit permission to touch.” Rocket leers. “That could be fun.” Your eyes narrow. “Space Pilot, I’m gonna need you to focus on the task at hand so I don’t end up accidentally jettisoning us.”

4. Other Duties As Assigned

(codename: schemers, dreamers, & multicalendar memers) i don't have an intended outcome for this fic yet so while i am VERY much enjoying it, i first need to grapple with whether or not i'm okay posting something that may be unfinished. i usually try to avoid that.

I have no idea whether this will get smutty or not (probably, knowing me?). Begins five months after The Snap.

Natasha Romanoff is an administrative nightmare - a fact that does not go unnoticed by the (interim) captain of the Milano. First she demands that the remaining two Guardians of the Galaxy be reachable via a primitive Terran messaging system, and then she can't be bothered to read the frickin' emails.

Thank fuck she's hired a new assistant.

**THIS MESSAGE IS ENCRYPTED** To: <nromanoff@aee.org> From: &lt;rocket@aee.org> Subj: re: WHAT THE FUCK RED Date: Monday, September 24, 2018 7:34am well that’s probably the nicest message I’ve gotten since I hacked the internet I’m gonna have to kill your boss though

(a super-secret spoiler sidenote - i have a formula and I shamelessly overuse it, so there are no surprises here: girl falls first, raccoons falls harder. every fuckin time friends.)

[defining-skyology]

Defining Spirits.

[[[Long read/article ahead]]]

[[[>Continue-Read]]]

Hello all of my two readers, welcome back!

Please observe the following definitions from Google for the word "spirit".

Got it all? Some kind of understanding? Good, because we're actually going to avoid using ANY of these specific definitions for this post. Enjoy the word vomit~ ❤️

When writing fiction, the concept of death can be molded in so many different ways.

Whether your character's death is literal or figurative, material or spiritual, alarming, unsettling, uncomfortable, horrifying, somber, sacrificial,

Or sacred, important, meaningful, glorified;

Death always marks the end of one story.

But in many stories, it also then marks the beginning of a new one.

Let's make a bold beginning statement to start off our Defining process with this term, something to rattle the house.

Ancestors =/= Spirits

From now on within the blog, we will understand that the difference between our Ancestor, and the Spirits of our Ancestors, is extremely important to acknowledge.

They are physically, vitally, spiritually, and thematically, different characters from each other.

While Ancestors have solid bodies that are often believed to be a composite combination of both Light and earthen matter, Spirits have broken free of their earthen shell with the help of the Descendant.

We've deemed in the last post that earth + Light (plus an affinity for humanity) creates an Unnatural Being somehow. If this is the case, then without that earthen cover, the Being is now left as just '100%' Pure Light.

In other words, Spirits have become Natural Beings, compared to their mortal coils from before.

A common misconception I've heard among the community over the years is that they (the Spirit) would likely be 'just' a fragment, 'just' their Soul left over, split from their body. The major reasoning behind this thought process is the most common, stereotypical definition of Spirit that we discussed before; either just as a synonym for Soul, or as a description of a ghostie "manifestation".

I personally see this as a disservice to the wonderfully crafted design of Beings of Light. The Light substance that has escaped the shell of the dead Ancestor is not just an 'energy', not just a spiritual concept, not at all. Physicality and Spirituality go hand in hand in the Sky universe, because Light does not die or shrivel; and at most can only be contained. All of this is why I believe that

Spirits are still 'proper' Beings.

Please Observe the Merriam-Webster definitions for the word "spirit". You will find that the word can be a lot more contrived and technical than the specific, stereotypical ways that most people and cultures use it, and the first two potential definitions given are the vibes I want to go with. The vibes that I (personally) believe match the most with what Spirits (as a concept within the Sky universe abiding by the laws of Light-substance 'science') were intended to be.

They are entities that are 'alive'.

Pure Light essence. Supernatural but not immaterial. No less Pure than the Creatures who dance in eternal wonder for the Megabird; no less free than the Descendant. They are now a part of the Megabird's plan; the true Nature of all things.

As before, Natural Beings are one with the Light, fully Connected to all extensions of the Megabird. This Connection is magnified by a direct Connection that Descendants make with each Spirit when they help them Ascend. Though this is getting into more complicated territory for a much later day, in short,

Spirits are Projected down from the Sky when the Descendants call upon them, through this Connection.

This strong visual theme occurs every time they appear and reappear in front of us within the world, and just like the discrepancy of Spirit vs. Ancestor, I believe that it would be a mistake for us to ignore just how intentional this visual theme of them Descending down from the Sky is.

It must not be overlooked.

Alright, well so far we're making pretty substantial ground towards a nice, clean, single sentence Definition for our term.

Here's what we know so far:

- Spirits are Natural Beings that are rejoined as a part of the Megabird.

- Spirits are projected from the Sky. (In some strange direct relation to us.)

But... Why do they come back down into the world if they're already Ascended?

The Answer lies within the word I've been using to describe their arrival whenever they appear; they are being Projected. By what?

By us.

Our Connection with them after we save them allows us to call upon them (and I'd like to believe that, canonically, this can be done at any time) and have them be Projected down into the world from the Light.

We know that the reason the Spirits come back is to spend time with us. Yes, that is genuinely what I believe is the flat canon reason why Spirits can just casually exist within the world as we see them do in Aviary and other places and events. They are trying to help us through our journey, and the most important thing that the Descendants need right now in this era, above all things, is to stay mentally healthy.

They want to make sure that we don't ever have to feel alone.

And unlike us as the Descendants, the Spirits aren't programmed with a mission. The Spirits are free now, just like the Creatures. But they still want to help us. They want to be with us and spend time with us. If that isn't love, I don't know what is.

So now that we know why, we have all the pieces.

- Spirits are Natural Beings that are rejoined as a part of the Megabird, freed out of their earthen shell.

- Spirits are projected from the Sky.

- Spirits descend from the Sky in order to help the Descendants.

🎉🎊🎂🎆🎈🎉🎊🎉🎉

And there we have it folks; the Definition for our term "Spirits", and what that means to Sky.

Another day another article. I seriously do not have the ability to just make a short bitesized, digestible post.

But that's okay. I think giving myself the time to pour a bit more actual love into each post is a lot nicer in its own way anyways.

Thank you so much for reading, and have a good day/night!

[laundrybiscuits]

Do you think Eddie was flagging in the show?

If this approaches discourse, I'll understand if you choose not to respond.

This is kind of a multi-layered question, but I think it’s worth talking about in the context of broader approaches to fandom.

I haven’t seen these terms used for a while, but fans used to talk about “Watsonian” and “Doylist” explanations as a good shorthand for “in-universe logic/rationale” and “out-of-universe motivations.” For example, the Watsonian (as in what John Watson might think) explanation for a villain monologue might be that the character wanted to prolong his moment of victory because he wasn’t ready to let the feud go. The Doylist (as in what Arthur Conan Doyle might think) explanation might be that the author needed to pad out the wordcount. 

The important part is that neither of those lenses is wrong. They’re just different ways of looking at a text. 

Word of God (i.e. what the creators say about a work in interviews etc.) is not the same as canon, and canon is not sacred. It’s just what’s on the screen or page.

I’m going to be a little self-indulgent here and bring in some Death of the Author by Roland Barthes, because I literally have a page of quotes stored on my tumblr. Admittedly, the translation I have is a little dense, but I think I’ve pulled out the key points. (Also, caveat that this is not the only valid way to do lit crit, but I think it can be very helpful in fandom.)

“The text is a tissue of citations, resulting from the thousand sources of culture.” 

I think about this all the time in regard to fandom, because it reminds me that texts don’t spring fully-formed from some ethereal plane. The cultural and literary references you grew up with, as well as the ones you continue to consume, feed directly into whatever you produce as a creator. That’s why my number one tip for young creatives who want to improve is to be intentional about the media they consume*. That’s where inspiration comes from: just tip more material into the slurry of your subconscious, and see what alchemized new thing bubbles to the surface. 

That also means that as critical readers, we can always try to see connections and patterns, regardless of Word of God. However, it’s important to remember that those connections and patterns are not necessarily lodged within the text itself…and that brings me to my next quote.

“The unity of a text is not in its origin, it is in its destination.” 

It’s rarely useful or interesting, in the context of fandom, to treat a text as an artifact to be excavated. It’s much more relevant and functional to ask what you as an individual get from the text—what your own relationship is to the themes, motifs, ideas, messages you’ve gleaned from your experience of reading/watching. Every reader has a different relationship to the text, because every reader is a different person with a different history. 

The difference between fandom and Extended Universe-type stuff isn’t just licensing. Frankly, I personally would find that a pretty boring fandom experience, if absolutely everything were strictly canon-compliant and cross-referenced. Fandom is transformative, which means it interprets and reinterprets texts as a form of consumption/creation, and that necessarily means a willingness to discard anything that doesn’t suit whatever story we’re trying to tell. 

In other words, Eddie doesn’t have a canon sexuality. Hell, very few characters in general do. As I mentioned in the first footnote to my last reply, it’s useful to think about sexuality as behavior + identity + desire; we often see behavior on screen, but we rarely see the other two in an explicit way. We can read him as flirting with Steve, we can read him as flirting with Chrissy, or both, or neither. That’s how fandom works. 

So, do I think Eddie was flagging in the show?

Let’s break that question down into a few different aspects.

Doylist: do I personally believe that the various people involved in the show deliberately intended Eddie to flag as a(n implicitly MSM) sado top? 

No. I don’t. Honestly, I simply don’t trust them that much. I don’t think they had queerness explicitly in mind when they created Eddie, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is queer-coded, much like a Disney villain. He represents anxieties about nonconformity and morality—of course he’s going to resonate with queer people. 

Ultimately, though, I don't really care about this particular creative team's intent. It's not interesting to me. There are so many shows that I enjoy more than ST for their artistic choices, and I'm interested in hearing the intent behind those, but specifically what I personally enjoy about ST is the stories its components let other people tell.

Watsonian (1): do I personally believe it’s within Eddie’s canon characterization to be flagging? 

It’s not impossible. It’s also not impossible that he’s just aping more generic metal accessories. Personally, I think it’s somewhat unlikely that at 19-20, living in the middle of nowhere and with the various plates he’s spinning, Eddie’s had enough exposure to kink to be really confident and knowledgeable about flagging. But I’ve also heard some pretty wild stories about small town gays back in the day, so I’m willing to be convinced either way.

Watsonian (2): do I personally believe it’s within Eddie’s canon characterization to be a sado top?

This is venturing into some even trickier waters, but my answer’s very similar to the last question—it’s not impossible. You don’t need to be a particular kind of person to be a top/bottom/dom/sub, no matter what the old fandom flamewars may have claimed. (Being in my early teens and witnessing the SasuNaru vs NaruSasu discourse was not a good way to learn about this.) Different parts of the same experience can resonate with people for different reasons, and there’s more than enough wiggle room to interpret literally any character in any way. 

(I will say that people who actively seek out DMing tend to enjoy controlling a scene to evoke particular emotional responses from players, and that's the angle I find most plausible for Eddie.)

I am personally agnostic on the matter of Eddie’s sexual preferences. As a reader, it’s most important to me that those preferences are coherent with the rest of the characterization within the fic. As a writer, I tend to characterize him as pretty switchy for the same reason I tend to characterize him as gay and into mythology: I am just projecting onto a blorbo.

That’s all any of this really is. 

*On a practical level: I often suggest to young creatives that they make a habit of identifying at least one thing they like AND at least one thing they don’t like about art, whatever form that art comes in. It builds critical faculties by making sure you actually digest the art you're consuming, and it’s also a good reminder that even the worst piece of dreck (probably) has something worth learning from—and even the most sublime masterpiece has flaws.

[kingedmundsroyalmurder]

Jane of Lantern Hill chapters 3 and 4

Standard Jane warning for emotional abuse; new warning for genre-typical child servant abuse.

Two evening events in a row means that I am quite behind. We're doing these two chapters together because they're both about Jody.

The very first thing I noticed, and one that's purely craft-related, is that this appears to be the book in which LMM experiments with ellipses. Blue Castle was all about em dashes, Jane is all about ellipses. I haven't fully been able to pin down what she wants the effect to be. A pause, clearly, but why an ellipsis? I've never seen them used in the middle of sentences like this, to offset clauses or separate ideas. Did she get bored of em dashes? Did her publishers give her bonuses based on the number of characters she used? Was she playing a game with herself to keep the drafting process interesting? I feel like I'm reading this book through the medium of texts sent by my grandmother (who is much nicer than Jane's, thankfully.)

Second minor detail: Jane has RPG character or anime protagonist eyes, apparently. I know she probably intended them to be light, warm brown, but every marigold I've ever seen has looked like this:

This is an eye color that I give my characters in video games when I want them to look like aliens. And "marigold" as a color is a shade of yellow, not brown. So I'm not sure why that's the descriptor LMM reached for, but it is now my firm headcanon that Jane has yellow-orange anime eyes.

Anyway, on to the actual contents of the chapters. Between the rich girl befriending the poor girl and the whole imaginary garden sequence, I am getting such Frances Hodgson Burnett vibes, you have no idea. I don't know if LMM also read her books, or if they were just working similar themes, or if I just imprinted on FHB as a child and see traces of her everywhere.

So Jody is an orphan, kept on at the boarding house out of "charity", a word which in this context means "a servant you don't have to pay or treat well." She goes to school "every day there was no extra rush" which probably means she's not very well educated, which will make it even harder for her to find better circumstances when she grows up.

And she's clearly set up as a deliberate mirror for Jane. Here they are, two girls who on the surface couldn't be more different, who immediately recognize each other as kin because actually, under the surface, their lives are very similar. This is where we diverge sharply from the Sara Crewe/Samantha-from-American-Girls model. Jane doesn't just befriend Jody because she's kind-hearted and sees someone in trouble, she befriends Jody because here is another person who understands what it's like to live in fear of other people. Jane's material circumstances are much better than Jody's, but her emotional ones are just about as bleak.

That thread gets reinforced in chapter 4, when Mary and Frank are talking about Jane's mother. Jane's mother has every material thing she could possibly want -- and a great many that she doesn't want -- but she's not actually happy. She's just as trapped as Jody is, fully reliant on the good will of someone else to keep her home and fully aware that if she upsets that person too much she could be turned out with nowhere to go. And, like Jody, she doesn't seem to have the resources to just leave anyway and make a go of it. Jody is trapped because she's 11, and Mrs. Stuart is trapped because she's never had to make do on her own, and the one time she tried to leave it ended poorly and she's now too scared to try again.

Jane, meanwhile, is also trapped due to her age, and it seems that at each new turn she encounters a new bar in her cage she'd never considered before. "It had never occurred to her that she was not at liberty to give away her own doll" is such a good sentence. LMM is so good at simultaneously conveying Jane's youth -- she is learning these things for the first time -- and also showing the absurdity of the situation. No, says the narrative. Grandmother is not doing these things for Jane's own good. She will not understand when she is older. She is being a cruel and petty tyrant, and that's all she's ever been.

[themattress]

Unpopular Opinion Re:One Piece

The Water 7 Saga is not as good as everyone says it is.

It's among the most famous arcs in One Piece, right up there with Arlong Park, Alabasta and the Marineford War. It is frequently listed as peoples' number 1 favorite. And while I certainly like it as well (Franky is an awesome new addition to the crew, Spandam and Rob Lucci are fantastic villains, and the worldbuilding, action and emotional drama are all on point), I can't say I share the same fondness for it. In many ways, I kind of think it semi-ruined the series (only semi, though - the timeskip ruined it full-on!). Why? Well, there are three big reasons.

-1. Nico Robin's Backstory. For the first time, a backstory in One Piece left me incredibly disappointed. Nico Robin is such a great and interesting character that I was expecting a lot from her backstory, only for it to be the most laughably contrived set of circumstances there could possibly be to shape her into who she is now. The worst part by far is the reasoning behind her dream to uncover the truth behind the Void Century. Every prior Straw Hat pirate chose their dream. Others usually served as inspiration, but the characters still made the conscious decision as to what goal they would pursue. But Robin was born from a pair of scholars dedicated to uncovering the world's history and brought up in a super special scholar community dedicated to uncovering the world's history, which inevitably made uncovering the world's history her life's purpose since she could walk and talk! Also, through all the contrivances he puts her through, Oda totally forgets to show when and how Robin even ate the damn Devil Fruit that caused her so much trouble! The only explanations that are possible, when paired with leaving her child in the care of her spineless brother and his over-the-top abusive monster of a wife, paints Olvia in a terrible light that makes it difficult to care for her passing. Jaguar D. Saul is the only bright spot in this whole backstory for me.

-2. The Pacing. This is the first time things really began to drag in One Piece. Beforehand, we had two lengthy arcs in Alabasta and Skypiea, but the epic nature of those arcs justified it: the former was the culmination of several prior arcs and the latter was an entire new frontier for the Straw Hat pirates to explore. Neither are the case with the Water 7 Saga, so the way things are drawn out, especially when we hit Enies Lobby, become far more noticeable. It's to the point where Oda actually had to ax Rob Lucci's backstory because he was aware that would only increase the arc's already ridiculous length! While you were still emotionally invested enough to push on through reading/watching this arc regardless, it planted the seeds for all the drawn out arcs post timeskip, where not even such investment remains.

-3. The Consequences. Before this saga, One Piece was an adventure series. There were worldbuilding lore and government politics and military operations as a backdrop, but the primary focus was on the Straw Hat crew's adventures during their voyage to find the One Piece. But then Luffy shoots down the World Government's flag, and as great as that is in context, outside of context it signals a huge shift in narrative focus that fully materializes post timeskip. One Piece is now a series about worldbuilding lore and government politics and military operations, with the Straw Hat pirates often feeling lost in the shuffle or else focused on fighting the forces of the World Government rather than trying to find the One Piece. While obviously the World Government's corruption that was due a reckoning was always planned to be part of the story, Oda didn't seem like he intended on it being the primary thread until making the Water 7 Saga and releasing it to great acclaim. As a result, One Piece has ironically gone the way of the Pirates of the Caribbean sequels where it's now all about overcomplicated mythology and a full-on war between powerful pirates and a corrupt government navy, all while the main character who works best out looking for treasure barely seems to have a clue as to what's going on. The thing I cared about in this series was the main characters working to achieve their dreams, not the liberation of the world from a corrupt government. Well, we're now in the final saga and said liberation is the narrative drive, while the main characters seem no closer to their dreams since when they started.

I still respect One Piece. But I don't like it so much anymore. And Water 7 is really when that started happening. In hindsight, maybe the World Government's flag should've stayed up.

[botanikos]

To my beloved son, dear Stolas:

My son, I do hope your affairs are in proper order.

I have been informed of recent controversy with you and Marquis Andrealphus regarding his tea reserves. While we have many duties and are thus beholden to perhaps some complimentary comforts, we must all see to proper moderation in all things. I have seen the total amount your debt has amounted to, a paltry sum. It would be rather salubrious of you to not submit yourself to the judgment of the Marquis. He is royalty, and you did consume his property, all the same such a charge is rather absurd given his frequent consumption of my own teas of which I have raised not eye at of his overindulgence. I suggest rather then provide the funds yourself you allow him to have equal measure of what was taken or another less direct form of repayment. A direct sum would be to put the Marquis over you in some way and lower our prestige. Perhaps you might lend the money to Madam Stella who could give the money as a gift to her beloved brother or simply sell off a few of your servants? We can always buy new ones. We must ever pursue a line of action that does not result in any paperwork noting this event and lapse in your judgment. I will require you to journey to my castle to watch the training videos on abstinence from worldly pleasures. I understand they are not to your liking and that they are well over seven days long, but they are filled with knowledge on how to be a supreme and modest gentleman in all respects.

Your Beloved father His grace King Paimon of the Ars Goetia, head adviser to Lucifer Morningstar, chairmen of the Institute of Brilliance, and founder of the Universal Celestial Library.

When one of the servants presents him with another letter, he nearly claps with glee. Surely it was a response from Andrealphus. The hurried retreat of the imp however, has Stolas reconsidering. Ah. His father. Glowing hues scan the paper, reading over every word. His features twist, and in the privacy of his own home, he had the luxury of allowing himself to display such things. He couldn't disagree. Stolas didn't have any intention of providing him with monetary compensations, but rather, had been considering purchasing teas himself. Now he wanted to send him empty teabags and broken cups, but he wasn't quite that petty. Not yet. Would Stella ensure the funds reach her brother? Actually, he didn't doubt that nearly as much as he thought he might. The two were closer than honey in a hive. Sell off his servants?! He would not! Least of all if it meant selling them TO the Stella and Andrealphus. Stolas drops his head into his hands with a heavy sigh. He rests like this a moment before finishing the letter. Venturing to his father's castle was at the very bottom of his list of invitations he expected to receive, but considering it was now a requirement. . . . Could he reject the offer? Unlikely. And how outdated was this material to be SEVEN DAYS in length?! Feathers ruffle, talons tap in frustration against the floor. He stands, sweeping the letter into his fingers with a groan as he begins to pace. He could be proper! He was very much a gentleman! Eventually, Stolas finds himself reluctantly penning a response to his father.

To My Esteemed & Dearest Father, Lord Paimon:

My affairs are muddled as always, but never so drastically out of reach that I cannot find where they begin or end. At least in this particular inconvenience. Please forgive any inconvenience this has become as word reaches you in regards to. . . tea.

I understand the scrutiny, and your concerns both. Steep financial debts were unexpected, rest assured! Surely this is an accumulation of every visit meticulously priced into one itemized list per my most recent visit. Nevertheless, I of course, fully intended to provide some compensation. When, what, or how, was not meant to be a present or available discussion. I am not so inconsiderate that I would drink & dash every time!

Your words have reached me, and I will consider only the finest of options befitting these particular circumstances. As for my visit. . .

How soon would you expect me? I am open to considering such trainings, though personally I do not guarantee I will find them. . . suitable. I am capable despite my reputation, of being a modest gentleman. Additionally, worldly pleasures are meant to be enjoyed, are they not? I do not find myself so gluttonous that it is problematic or a hindrance. Not so consistently, at least. Regardless, as per your request, I will be in attendance.

Your Dashing Son,

Prince Stolas Ars Goetia

[eldritch-muppetshow]

onceler askblog digital horror/arg brainstorm session, go

(tw: implied suicide ideation within the story)

(also major spoilers for an arg that doesn’t exist yet and may not happen. i’m not super concerned abt spoiling people though, because in the end i want to get this idea out there somehow even if it never fully materializes beyond these notes)

story

- have “starting point” be a fake blog planted into the onceler fandom as an “archive” of old fandom content, with particular interest in a since-deleted blog that no one can seem to find

- set up the “lost” blog with a url that makes it seem like it’s been deactivated. it’s not, but it’s password-protected so that no one can access its contents right off the bat

- have the fake fandom blog rb select posts from the “lost” blog, hiding the horror content until people unlock it by finding and entering the password

- hide hints of the password to the “lost” blog in the fandom blog’s content

- The reveal is that the onceler featured on the “lost” blog is in fact still alive (probably with some body horror-laden imagery bc you know me), still aware of everything after 10+ years and desperate for reprieve but unable to truly rest in any material sense. at this point, the setting and plotline of the blog has withered away to nothing— all that remains is the main character, driven mad after losing everything he knew + understood, being isolated for over a decade, and yet still persisting after everything around him is gone

- the players’ new goal is to find the password that will deactivate the blog. lots of dramatic irony in how the featured onceler seems to believe it will put him out of his misery, but the reader knows it will not fully “release” him in the sense of erasing him from existence— he will still live on in other people’s memories and reinterpretation of the character. leave the reader uncertain if he is truly “free”

- tie in the horror of the persistence of an idea/art; the idea that you can’t fully “kill” an idea once it’s out there, the horror of being permanently defined by/praised for art that you aren’t proud of— and the persistence of a character beyond what you wanted to set as the end of their “life” under your writing

what is this project trying to say (if it’s meant to say anything at all)?

- basically an elaborate commentary on death of the author in fandom and the persistence of ideas, through the lens of a fanon/au character as a sapient being. the loss of the setting/characters surrounding the “lost” onceler is one big metaphor for how popular au characters in fanon tend to lose the context surrounding them as people only make content for a single popular character— and in turn, they only remember that character

- (could also be commentary about how almost nobody gives a damn about the rest of the 2012 lorax movie outside the onceler, but eh)

- a pretty interesting thought exercise i’ve had is: can you name the original creator of underswap? what about the creator of underfell? or the heroic au in the villainous fandom? i’m sure there’s someone reading this who does remember, but my point is: these aus and characters persisted long after the creators’ involvement with their respective fandoms, and they’ve shifted enough from the original author’s intent that if you ask a couple fandom members “who are these characters”, i guarantee they’ll all have a slightly different answer.

- despite how the project is written, the intended message isn’t necessarily “we need to stop using characters/aus FOREVER if the creator stops being involved with them”. i consider the dark aspects of the story moreso a byproduct of its status as a digital horror story (and my own fears as an artist) rather than a deliberate condemnation of fanon persisting after the creator stops their involvement. because there are cases where the creator willingly gives their art to the community, or is otherwise fine with people continuing it in their place

- also i’m gonna have to set up a fuckton of blogs for this if i’m gonna make this a fully-immersive experience and not rely too much on the suspension of disbelief lol

[lloronista]

BOOKS I READ IN 2023: REVIEWS

At the beginning of 2023, I made a resolution to read at least one new book each month. Life got busy and I didn't always keep up with my reading goals, but since it's the last day of the year, I wanted to do a brief review for each new book I read :P

JANUARY

Martita, I Remember You / Martita, te recuerdo - Sandra Cisneros

I have been a huge fan of Sandra Cisneros for many years now and quite honestly can say she's one of my biggest inspirations in the way I've developed my own skills as a writer. So of course I was more than excited when she announced her latest novella. Martita, I Remember You is a book that had me getting teary-eyed in the breakroom at my workplace when I would read it during lunch. Such is the way that Cisneros touches the heart so masterfully, with such profound and succinct prose. It's imbued with autobiographical aspects of Cisneros's life, but it's also very much a story for anyone who has long distance friendships, the way it captures that feeling of connection beyond place and time. Can't recommend this one enough, it's a short and very worthwhile read!

The Tea Master and the Detective - Aliette de Bodard

This one was a recommendation from Nami, and a very wonderful one! I hadn't read anything by Aliette de Bodard before, and even without having read the other installments in this particular series, I thought the worldbuilding was so vibrant and captivating that I didn't find myself feeling lost or in need of explanation beyond what de Bodard showed in her writing. One of my favorite elements of The Tea Master and the Detective was the cast of strong and interesting female characters, the sly and mysterious detective, Long Chau, being my favorite ^^ This one, too, was a rather short read, yet the thrill of a fast-paced adventure and murder mystery was no less amazing than you'd expect from a longer novel. Definitely recommend this one if you're looking for a sci-fi story that strays from the typical genre framework.

FEBRUARY

Dragon's Winter (1997 Uncorrected Proof) - Elizabeth A Lynn

Well, this was me cheating a little bit ^^'' I've read EAL's Dragon's Winter as well as the sequel novel probably at least ten times, as it's one of my all time favorite books. And each time I re-read it, I absorb something new - a little detail in the setting that recolors my memory, or way a line of dialogue is spoken here and there that gives a certain inflection. But when I came across a copy of the original uncorrected proof version of this novel, I couldn't get my hands on it fast enough 😆 In a way, it was like engaging with the material with fresh eyes, taking in the differences and aspects that hadn't yet been fully decided on by the author in the final draft. One aspect that I observed in the original uncorrected proof of DW is how EAL seemed to allow one of the main characters, Azil, more insight into his emotions and inner thoughts than in the final edition of the novel, which was something I relished greatly. Why she made the decision to edit those passages out, I wonder about; perhaps she intended for Azil to be more enigmatic, to have less of a POV or central narrative position in the story. I wonder about this, because I think making Azil more in the foreground of the story makes thematic sense. Dragon's Winter is, on its surface, a story about twin brothers (one a dragon changeling, the other a wizard) who go to war with one another. But on a deeper level, it's about the complicated love story between Karadur and Azil: their friendship, one's betrayal of the other, the way they must pick up and mend the pieces afterwards. They both undergo a transformation of sorts, of multiple sorts. Their relationship is the lifeblood of the story, and I felt that even more intensely in EAL's original version of the novel. As I said, this is perhaps my favorite book of all time, and so I definitely recommend this one tenfold, especially to anyone interested in queer fantasy stories!

APRIL

The Hacienda - Isabel Cañas

Oh my, how I adored this one! Isabel Cañas is probably my favorite author I've discovered this year, and I'm so excited for everything she's going to publish in the future as well ;v; The Hacienda is a book that has something to offer for pretty much everyone - gripping, graphic horror, amazingly researched history, compelling and interesting female characters, and a really nicely written romance. Regarding the latter, I was actually surprised how into the relationship between Beatriz and Andrés I became xD (like yeah, girl! get that hot priest!! 🔥🔥🔥) At its core, The Hacienda is a take on the haunted house genre, rife with the ghosts of Spanish colonization and Mexico's war for independence. I really enjoyed Beatriz as a horror story protagonist and a Final Girl; there was a strength and ambitiousness to her that made it really easy to root for her. And I loved Andrés as the parallel protagonist across from her, as well as his dual role as a spiritual guide to his community, not only as a Catholic priest but as a curandero in touch with Indigenous perspectives of curses and spirits. There was something really refreshing about the way Cañas writes them working together to uncover the source of the haunting. I will warn that the ending has more of a bittersweet mood rather than a happy ending, but overall it's a very enjoyable read!

JUNE - JULY

The Left Hand of Darkness - Ursula K. Le Guin

Wow, where to even begin. This was the first full-length novel by Le Guin that I read, by Suri's recommendation, and it completely blew me away with what Le Guin had the ability to accomplish in her worldbuilding. I truly don't think I've ever encountered another science fiction story that utilizes its genre to encapsulate such a sincere and complex reflection of humanity and society that The Left Hand of Darkness achieves. For one thing, Le Guin's background in anthropology shines in the way she positions Genly as a lens through which the reader similarly takes in such a vastly different alien culture, at times grappling to understand them and at other times seeing them as though through a mirror reflection of ourselves. Genly's dynamic with Estraven, in particular, and the way it changes over the course of the story, acting as the emotional current of their combined journeys, was most captivating part for me. I know TLHoD has sort of become more widely known on tumblr for the way it explores gender and sexuality, which it does quite extraordinarily. But I think, at the heart of it, TLHoD is a story about storytelling, the way it promotes understanding in a way that ascends scientific observation of another culture. This is certainly a book I will be re-reading many times in the future, absorbing more new tidbits each time.

SEPTEMBER

Killers of the Flower Moon - David Grann

The one non-fiction book I read this year, and what a fascinating one. Placing it in the genre of true crime seems somewhat inaccurate, as this story is so much larger than the narrative of murder and corruption, but a real life horror story of the violence wrought by white supremacy. Killers of the Flower Moon covers only part of a historical era that saw a widespread conspiracy to seize the headrights of Indigenous people from the Osage nation, who after being forcibly displaced and moved to a reservation, were found to be on land that was rich with oil. Needless to say, this is not a part of history that gets taught in American history classrooms. So I found Grann's relaying of the Osage murders to be educational as it was gripping, sorrowful, and meticulous in its outlaying of all the different factors that went into this tragedy, the disenfranchisement and dehumanization of an entire group of people, all for the sake of sating the avarice of another group of people. Since the film adaptation's release, I have seen some members of the Osage community, as well as other Indigenous people, critique both the film's and novel's centering of white characters in the story. I can certainly see how Grann spent a lot of the novel focused on the early FBI's involvement in the investigation, at the detriment of making Osage characters like Molly more prominent. If anything, I think KotFM works as an effective starting point for anyone wanting to learn more about this part of history, passing from this work to those written and spoken by Osage voices.

The Haunting of Alejandra – V. Castro

Okay so as soon as I saw the premise of this novel announced, and from an author whose other works I really enjoyed, I was sold right away. Anyone who knows me knows I'm obsessed with the ever-evolving figure of La Llorona and her tragic, haunting narrative. And this take on La Llorona, as with many of Castro's other decolonial reimaginings, was amazingly refreshing. For one thing, it blew me away how Castro's Llorona was not just a ghostly figure, but almost more of a demonic entity - only to then be revealed to be something so much stranger, an interdimensional being that feeds on grief. I also found the titular character of Alejandra to be just as refreshing of a heroine - older, anxious, in an unhappy, thankless marriage. She's worn out in the beginning, fractured by trauma and disconnected from her heritage, her family history. Castro has a way of using horror and subjects of trauma in her novels to be transformed into something cathartic, and it's no different here as Alejandra finds healing and strength in order to protect her children from this monstrous Llorona, to save herself from the same fate. I 100% recommend this one to anyone else who grew up with folktales of La Llorona and other boogeymen, this version is definitely worth the read!

OCTOBER

She Who Became the Sun – Shelley Parker-Chan

Every now and then, I come across a book that I can clearly see is good, but just not for me. I finally read She Who Became the Sun after seeing a lot of hype on social media, and plenty of rave reviews from some people I follow on here. But as much as I really wanted to like, even love, this novel, I just could not get myself into it. And as for why I couldn't get into it, I have to admit I'm still not entirely certain; you would think that a fictionalized queer drama based on Chinese history with fantasy elements would be the very essence of my cup of tea. The prose was beautiful, the dialogue flowed well. I think the major issue for me, however, lies in the pacing. At the halfway mark of the book, I still really wasn't captivated by any of the characters very much, or the plot - the latter hadn't actually moved along very much, in fact. Even at three-quarters of the way through, I was still desperately waiting for something to grip me by the shoulders and make me pay attention. Additionally (and others who read and loved this novel may disagree with me on this), I actually think much of the first chunk of the book could have been heavily edited down, or even just cut away entirely and relayed through flashbacks. Most of Zhu's time at the temple during her childhood could have been mentioned elsewhere, or visited briefly as she senses herself becoming more ruthless later on (really, the two most important scenes in that whole section were when Ouyang burned down the temple, and earlier when she thought of murdering one of the teacher monks). The way that the sudden rebellions were so quickly squashed, the way characters were swiftly and brutally removed from the story, seemed more like an attempt at shock value than actually serving to raise the stakes or move the story forward. But anyways, to conclude this off: I can see why lots of people did enjoy this novel, it certainly has all the right the elements of tumblr's next favorite book, after Captive Prince and The Raven Cycle. But I think in order for me to have liked it, it would have required a different editor behind the writing process, someone who encouraged Parker-Chan to cut down the excess and make the story flow better overall.

NOVEMBER

Guardian / Zhen Hun (Vol. 1) – Priest

I had heard of this series when it was a live action drama you could find on youtube, but reading the translated first volume this year has made me totally head over heels for the story and characters. Guardian has quickly become one of my favorite Danmei, set in a world where the mundane and the supernatural frequently collide and it's up to a paranormal detective agency to handle these matters. I especially love the way Priest balances the setting with dark, macabre subjects with moments of light-hearted humor. But amid the adventurous aspects of the story, the central conflict mainly involves the budding romance between Zhao Yunlan and the mysterious Shen Wei. The romance is delightful to read, and I think their personalities are what make them really compelling, when they're apart and when they're together. I'm excited to read more of this series when the English versions get released ^^

DECEMBER

Vampires of el Norte – Isabel Cañas

Another Isabel Cañas novel, and just as enjoyable of a read! Just like The Hacienda, Vampires of el Norte blends history and horror, portraying the Mexican-American War through its effect on hacendados being violently forced from their land by Anglos - and also being preyed on by vampires. Even more so than in The Hacienda, Cañas has a masterful way of building and sustaining suspense in this story. Despite it being a non-traditional form of horror, the danger looming all around of vampires, and also of violent Anglos, persists throughout. As someone who loves vampire literature, I was really impressed with how Cañas uses vampires here as an allegory for colonization/displacement, and the way that several characters in the novel at first mistake vampirism for a kind of susto. Furthermore, I thought it interesting how the vampires of this world are much more animalistic than the suave, intellectual type of vampire you see often in vamp literature. Rather than being evil or demonic, they're almost neutral in their methods of hunting, more like predators that are solely motivated by hunger, as one would view a wolf or puma. The way that these vampires are weaponized by Anglos almost seems to reference the way that Spaniards would train their large, European breeds of dogs to maul Indigenous peoples during the conquest - a connection that remains in line with Cañas's decolonial themes. Also like The Hacienda, the characters here are written wonderfully, their dreams and fears focusing the reader in with their emotional currents. Nena and Néstor's tumultuous romance takes center stage, the novel opening on the tragedy that splits them apart for nine years. I loved that there were so many layers to their love for each other, the sweet and innocent puppy love they had as children, the different ways they felt anger and betrayal by the parts of their lives around each other that they couldn't control, the moments of heady sensuality and heated bickering while on their journey home, and the fact that they both have to literally and figuratively fight to be with each other. I think Cañas had a lot of fun writing Nena and Néstor's relationship, and it was definitely fun to read ^^

Those were the books I read in 2023! For 2024, my main goal is to read through all the Danmei I've been piling up 🤭

[rainbowsky]

Hello there, I’m a new turtle and I want to ask if it’s always this quiet whenever GG is filming a drama, I mean in terms of his other activities (going to events, shows etc.)? I guess I was hoping to catch him in a live event or something. I read that in the previous years he attended one of the new year’s eve celebrations but not 2022’s. Hope to see him perform live soon. I love when he sings.

Enjoy reading your blog, thank you.

Hi new turtle! 💛🐢💛

Thanks for your kind words, I'm glad you're enjoying my blog! 😊

I understand your feeling. I've been missing him too. I know a lot of people are. Often with both GG and DD it's very 'feast and famine'. We'll go through periods of time where we hardly see them and then suddenly one or the other of them will have a ton of appearances or projects airing. I trust this will happen with GG.

I do miss seeing him perform live, I miss his healing voice. I miss the appearances and photo sets. I miss seeing him on the red carpet. I miss, I CRY, I DIE, not hearing his voice or seeing him sing.

It's definitely not 'normal', how little we've seen of him in those contexts lately. I can't help but feel the elephant in the room is growing bigger each day. There are a lot of theories why he's been so scarce, but ultimately no one knows for sure.

I think the fact that he has recorded material that hasn't been aired (I'm thinking of the leaked festival gala recording here), implies that he is at least being invited and intends to make those kinds of appearances, but for some reason it doesn't reach the final product.

If he's being invited, if he's accepting, if he's recording the material and it doesn't end up airing, there aren't many areas left where that could be breaking down. It's unlikely he would change his mind about appearing and ask for his performance to be pulled from final airing. It seems unlikely production would not want to air something they've already fully recorded and edited.

That leaves censorship and official approval, which to me seems the most likely area where this is breaking down. It's a big part of why I get so pissed off about bad fan behavior. Officials have made it clear that they will hold stars accountable for fan behavior, so it's critically important that fans behave well.

He's obviously not banned or cancelled, but there's plenty of grey area where he could be falling through the cracks - where his ability to do certain things or appear at certain events could be curtailed. He could have been made aware - or have decided for himself - that he must lie low given the climate he's in.

Ultimately we really don't know why GG isn't appearing at galas and events like he used to, but I don't buy that it's because he no longer wants to sing or perform live, or that he's 'focusing on acting' or whatever the line is people keep giving. I get that he might want to pull away from the idol thing a bit, but that wouldn't prevent him from doing the kind of performances he's given in the past.

He loves singing, he does it everywhere he goes. He does it in the car, he does it during his downtime between scenes or at photo shoots, etc. etc. He loves the stage. He performed songs in college before he ever entered the industry. It's his first love. So (AFAIAC) of course he wants to give us more of that.

I trust that we will see him perform again, but who knows how long we will have to wait? In the meantime I will just patiently trust that he's doing what's best for his career, and I will enjoy what he does bring us. And I will continue to have faith that he will bring us more when the time is right for him.

As a new turtle you might also find my masterlist post helpful.

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Gentile. | Chapter 14

Joanna finds out about your affair. Something special arrives for you.

Chapter list

Over seven weeks, nearly two months, go by without any news from Capernaum - not from Quintus, nor from Atticus. The first of the two you had expected it from, but the fact that you haven’t received a message from your secret lover in such a long time stings. 

The days start to grow dull despite your blooming friendship with Joanna. Every other day, you spend time with her in either the gardens or one of your rooms. You sometimes catch her reading parts from your journal when she thinks you aren’t looking and are both flattered and troubled by it, for the danger remains that she will realise that the confessions of love are not directed towards the man you’ve married.

One day, when Joanna invites you to go to the bathhouse with her, you agree under the condition that you can wear a sleeveless robe, which she understands. You’re not used to people seeing you fully naked and don’t intend on changing that any time soon.

You stand in front of the mirror, tugging and pulling at the opaque yet thin drape you’ve pulled around your body in order to hide all the bits of skin you’d be uncomfortable with showing. With a few pins here and there, you hold it into place and tuck your hair up into a neat braid, fixing it to the back of your head to prevent it from becoming too wet. 

Whilst smoothing your hands down your body for a final check, you suddenly flinch at an uncomfortable jolt shunting through your chest. You grit your teeth and frown deeply, bringing your hands back up to poke and feel around a bit. For some reason, the area is extremely sensitive in a negative way and worry settles in your gut. 

Perhaps that you’re lacking certain important nutrients now that you’ve been eating very different things than you’re accustomed to, or that your body cannot quite handle it properly. Whatever it might be, you aren’t exactly knowledgeable when it comes to dietary needs, so you shake it off in the hopes the soreness will decrease soon.

A knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts. “Coming!” you call out to Joanna, who is waiting for you patiently. You slip your feet into your sandals and head over to her with an extra stole wrapped around your shoulders, meeting her in the hallway.

“Ready to go?” You nod and smile.

“Yes,” you tell her, “I must say that I haven’t ever gone to a bathhouse before.”

“Not even back in Rome?” You’ve told her about your life before Capernaum. You give a small shake of your head and smile.

“It just makes me a little uncomfortable to go there by myself, I suppose. With a friend, it might be different.”

“You’ve got a sister-in-law, no? Perhaps she would like to go.”

Shrugging, you follow her downstairs. “I’m not sure. She is very busy with my niece.”

The air is humid in this part of the palace and you find yourself short of breath immediately. You squint through the slight fog that hangs around and take a towel from the outstretched arms of a servant.

Joanna starts to undress as do you, putting your belongings on the side of the pool. She has no trouble letting herself sink into the water, but you dip in an apprehensive toe to get acclimated to the temperature.

The material of your garb flows around you when you step down the small flight of stairs, the hot water almost scorching off your skin. Joanna smiles at you, cheeks already flushed from the heat, and puts her arms on the side of the pool to support herself and float a little. You swim over next to her and sigh deeply, for the sensation is indeed relaxing.

“When you get back to Capernaum,” Joanna muses, “You definitely should convince your husband to get you one of these. They come in smaller sizes and seeing that he’s sent you here , I’m certain that he won’t be shy about the cost.

A bitter comment crawls up your throat about how you don’t care about Quintus’ money, but she means well, so you swallow it. “Perhaps,” you instead breathe, exhaling and resting the back of your head against the side of the pool. You close your eyes and enjoy the momentary weightlessness. “I must admit that this is very nice.”

She smiles and looks at you. “We could get a massage or pop into the steam room for a bit. It will do wonders for your skin.”

You hum, which is no true answer to her proposal, and allow your mind to wander to Atticus. For all you knew, he was dead in a ditch somewhere. Immediate guilt tugged at your heart for letting yourself unwind at all in these uncertain times, despite the Cohortes’ insistence that you’d enjoy your stay here.

A servant asks if she needs to wash you, but you refuse. Someone whistles her over from the other bathhouse area, where you know the men’s section to be. Your stomach twists at the idea of her having to serve one of those creepy, leering soldiers with whatever whims they might need satisfied. Something flickers within the young woman’s eyes that you can only define as fear. Reluctantly, she moves to the door.

“Wait!” comes from your lips before you realise it, causing her to stop and look at you expectantly. “I-I don’t need a wash, but… A back massage would be nice.”

Joanna, looking at you somewhat confused, agrees with your statement. “Yes, you could help us out with that.” Her voice is inquisitive, as if she’s interested to know why you have suddenly changed your mind.

“Of course, ma’am,” the servant says, her eyes softening as she dares to relax more. The man who called her over to the other area sighs and saunters away in search of another victim. You hoist yourself out of the bath and wait for Joanna to do the same. “Follow me,” the servant says.

You go after her towards a smaller room where a few massage tables stand, a patron’s shoulders currently being kneaded with a strong-smelling oil.

“Please, get comfortable. I will fetch someone else to serve you, my lady,” she tells Joanna. She disappears, your friend immediately turning to you. 

“That was… Interesting. Why did you change your mind?”

You sigh and sit down on the table, your Palla clinging to your skin. “I saw fear in her eyes,” you whisper, careful to not let the other two people in the room hear, “I felt bad to send her in there.” 

She takes the other surface and gets comfortable, thinking over your words. “I… Suppose you’re right.”

“You said the other day that us women should speak up more for ourselves. How come we don’t speak up for the women who don’t have a voice?”

Joanna’s gaze darkens. “Be very careful with your words right now (Y/n). Saying things like that in a place like these can be very dangerous. I am not saying that I disagree with you, but please keep things like that to yourself whenever we’re in public, okay?”

You nod, understanding her concern, and lay down. The servant returns with at her side another woman who carries a bucket of hot stones. “My lady,” she tells you, “Please undress and lay down on your stomach.”

Despite your hesitance, at least there are no men in the room, so you peel off the damp cloth to stand more naked in front of total strangers than you’ve ever been. You attempt to lay down on top of the table so that the servant can start her work, but you wince when you lower your sore chest on the surface. “Oh, sorry,” you huff, “If you don’t mind, I’d rather lay on my back.”

“Certainly, ma’am.” 

Joanna frowns. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you truthfully say, “Just a little… Anxious, I suppose.”

She hums. “I get that. Try to relax now, alright? Enjoy the massage.”

“I’ll try,” you tell her, and even though you’re tense when the servant first starts to massage your arms and calves, you slowly ease into it.

_ 

Your head is painfully drumming the very moment the massage is over. Joanna deeply sighs, appearing way more tranquil than you. 

“That was nice, don’t you think so?”

You take a dry robe the servant hands you and you take it with a soft word of gratitude, pulling it over your shoulders. “It was, but that strong scent around here makes my head ache so bad…”

“Strong scent?” Joanna queries, “It’s just a bit of lavender oil they used on you. Are you sensitive to smells?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, sniffing and flinching a bit, for it stings in your nose, “Perhaps I’m allergic to one of the ingredients, that might be it.”

“If you say you’re alright, then I believe you, but be mindful that you keep your health in mind, (Y/n). Come on, let’s head back upstairs and enjoy some wine, why don’t we?”

You agree, even though you consider skipping on the wine, and head back up to her chamber to unwind and let the heat of the air settle into your skin, which tingles pleasantly. Your cheeks are flushed when you lay down on the same chaise longue you’ve shared drinks and deep conversations on a few times now, and you hum appreciatively when Joanna puts a bowl of fresh grapes in between you. 

“I’m going to quickly check for correspondence, alright?” Joanna offers after dressing up again, “You stay here to try and get that headache of yours down.”

You nod and smile at her. “Thank you.”

She heads downstairs, the heavy door falling shut behind her. You put a hand on your clammy forehead, deeply sighing. “I’m not getting ill, am I?” you whisper to yourself, a wave of nausea clawing its way up your throat. You sit up and lay a hand on your heart, which is suddenly burning inside your chest. 

You’ve been exposed to a new environment and new foods lately, and you’re worried about Atticus’ wellbeing. No wonder you’re feeling agitated despite your attempts to calm down your nerves.

After swallowing a few times and taking some grapes, you manage to settle down again as the heartburn fades away. There is a moment of silence before Joanna enters through the door again without knocking, the pad of her sandals headed your way. 

She tosses a small pile of letters onto her own chaise longue before reaching for you. “This arrived for you,” she says, “It’s pretty heavy.” 

You open your eyes and frown at the rectangular, thick package that she hands you. “Thank you.” 

“Pardon me for my nosiness, but I saw that the seal is not from your husband.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and panic builds inside your chest. “Oh?” you squeak, “I wonder who it might be from, then. Perhaps my brother.”

Of course, the engraving in the wax is familiar to you. You just hope that he hasn’t enclosed something you cannot explain to Joanna. 

You rip off the paper and are met with a blue book, which you flip over in your hands to read what it says. “Romantic poetry.” you whisper, “Let’s see… A bundle of poems by different authors. Is this handmade?” Your voice wavers and Joanna looks at you with widened eyes.

“It seems like it. What’s in there?”

You flip through the pages and read a few names that catch your eye. “Catullus, Ovid, Horace.” They are names you’ve spoken about with Atticus. “There is no note attached to it.”

Joanna hums and sits down, leaning towards you. “You could track down who it is from by asking the courier.”

“I’ll look into it,” you breathe, knowing very well who it came from, hence the lack of a name. However, your eye falls on something lodged betwixt two pages - a small slip of paper, and your heart stutters in your chest.

“Is it from your secret lover?”

You nearly choke on your own saliva as you look up at her with wide blown eyes. “Beg your pardon?”

She grins. “Your secret lover.”

You can feel your neck turn red as shame spreads over your skin. 

“My secret lover?” you pipe up, barely brave enough to look at her. “I don’t have a–”

“Oh, you cannot fool me, (Y/n). Whenever you speak of your husband, your gaze hardens, but when you saw that wax seal on the book I just gave you, your face spoke volumes of how that is not from him.”

“I-I said it might be from my brother!” you tried to excuse yourself, but Joanna slightly tilted her head with a knowing grin.

“I know a woman in love when I see one. Come on, who is it? Is it the Cohortes who dropped you off here two months ago?”

The silence that follows is deafening. Embarrassment burns behind your eyes and you take a sharp breath, looking at your folded hands that lay inside your lap. “I-I-I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” you whisper, even your own voice not convinced of the lie. 

“(Y/n).” Joanna states seriously, sitting down across from you. She reaches over to take your hands in hers and gives you a reassuring smile. “I’ve seen the way you two looked at one another. I didn’t know either of you back then but even I as a total stranger could see that it is no ordinary friendship.”

A hot tear rolls down your cheek and you swallow the lump in your throat to no avail. “Do you-Do you hate me now? I’ve been unfaithful to my husband and have failed both him and the gods. You must reject me as your friend now!”

You bury your face in your hands to sob. “Everything is so miserable,” you wail, your shoulders shaking. Joanna shushes you softly, sitting closer to wrap you in a tight embrace, “Quintus is not a good man. Atticus he-he-he, he treats me well!” you hiccup, “And he holds me in such a high regard I’ve never experienced from a man ever before!”

The words pour out with no chance of stopping them. It’s both a relief to get it off your chest and a looming threat closing in on you - you have no idea what Joanna will say, nor what she will report to the court now that you’re admitting to your adultery, but you cannot stop confessing. 

“Whenever I am with him, I feel like I’m alive. He sees me, Joanna! And-And-And I just… I just… Oh, I think I love him. ”

The words that you had never even considered saying out loud leave your tongue before you realise they had crept up on you. You put a hand on your chest and inhale heavily, trying to catch your breath. 

“Calm now, (Y/n),” Joanna whispers, rubbing circles over your back gently. “I understand your point of view. A man who sends you a book full of poems he’s bundled himself is obviously someone who is very serious about you. Especially when he’s busy fighting an impending civil war.”

You give her a watery smile and rub your cheeks dry to your best ability, but more keep coming. “I’m– I’m not ashamed, about it all, and that is what makes me feel guilty. Quintus is a horrible husband, Joanna! I never chose to marry him!”

She presses her finger against her lips to have you lower the volume of your voice and she puts a hand on your arm, giving you a determined look.

“I’ve told you my husband isn’t faithful to me.” Joanna begins, “But what I see happening with you is something far more than just a simple affair out of boredom.” Your cheeks flush. “He gives you what Quintus cannot give you.”

“It’s not in my husband’s nature,” you say with a trembling bottom lip, “All I am is a vessel to carry his child.”

Joanna gives a small nod and sighs. “I wish there was a way I could help you.” she whispers, “Sadly, there isn’t anything I can do. However, I want you to know that I am here for you, alright?” 

You sniffle and hug her tightly. “Thank you,” you whimper against her shoulder, “Thank you for not telling me I’m a fool for pursuing him.”

“Of course you aren’t a fool, (Y/n),” she earnestly says, “You’re just a woman in love with the right person at the wrong time. All you can do is see where it goes and try to enjoy it while it lasts. As much as it pains me to say it, you’re stuck with Quintus, unless he divorces you.”

You pull away with a deep frown on your face. “Have him divorce me… I’ve never thought about that. I-I mean I cannot do that myself, but if I keep rejecting him, he’ll have no choice but to…” 

The words get stuck in your throat whilst your thoughts keep running wild.

“But my family.” you say with a whisper, “I’ll be known as the whore who refused to carry a child for one of the most prominent Praetors known to man. The name of (L/n) would be in shambles, I cannot… I cannot be that selfish. My brother is all I have, I cannot ruin him and his family due to my own stupid decisions.”

Joanna smiles a little and tucks some hair behind your ear. “Sometimes, it is alright to go against the current.”

“Not when it means being egotistical.” you say. “Only when it matters.”

“But you matter.”

You shake your head. “I don’t count. All my life, everything has been settled for me. From the very moment I was born. This should be no different.” 

Your friend sighs and looks at you for a long moment of silence. 

“You matter.” she repeats, “That is all I can tell you. You can make your own choices.”

But you can’t. You really, truly can’t. Your heart feels heavy inside your chest.

“I’m…” You stand and step away. “I think I’m going to bed.”

“Already? But we haven’t even had dinner yet.”

You shake your head slowly. “I’m not hungry. I ah, I need some time to myself. I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Not waiting for an answer, you run out of her room, the book you’ve received from Atticus tightly held against your stomach. Once inside your own chambers, you dare to finally take out the paper that had been tucked away between two pages, unfolding it with trembling fingers.

To (Y/n), a collection of works I’ve come across on my travels. I hope you like them as much as I do. Take care and stay safe, my Flower.

It blurs in your vision as new tears form, your upper body feeling tight with heartburn.

You can barely stand the butterflies that tear through your system, your whole form trembling with emotion. You collapse onto your bed and allow your mind to run rampant until exhaustion takes over.

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