#i know its a faster and easier way to refer to that one event but pls

[wander-wren]

bothers me in trc fandom when people refer to “ronan’s suicide attempt” because it was pretty importantly NOT a suicide attempt. gansey, noah, adam, they all assumed it was, which is why gansey freaks out when ronan goes missing overnight at the beginning of trb, but it is not. it was a dream creature he brought back that had clawed him up.

i’m sure you could argue that that’s just an indirect suicide attempt, ronan’s subconscious, etc (opal tells him the night horrors are him), but i don’t see it that way. ronan is angry and grieving and violent in the wake of niall’s death. the night horrors, to my knowledge, don’t target ronan so much as they target any soft, living thing they can destroy. we don’t see this scene happen. we don’t see the day or the nightmare that comes before. we just have ronan’s word, and ronan says it wasn’t a suicide attempt, so it wasn’t.

and we can talk in circles then about whether ronan is suicidal actually—personally i think he has a sort of reckless disregard for his own life (see: drag racing, dream drugs) and has internalized a lot of the ideas about him being a “bad kid,” but i don’t think he’s actively suicidal. and that’s important to me. it’s important that ronan doesn’t actually want to die. i think he’s struggling to see the point of what everyone wants him to do (school), and struggling to envision a future for himself.

if ANYTHING was going to make ronan suicidal, truly, it should have been the dreamer trilogy. he’s isolated from all of his loved ones, literally starts dying if he’s not careful with the ley lines, and also the world is ending. we can see his same thought patterns repeating (“you’re always the car crash, ronan”) and we see him struggling with reality and identity (every conversation with bryde, who remember is part of ronan’s psyche, and also the looping dream with the mirror). and he’s not suicidal in the dreamer trilogy.

we talk a lot in this fandom about “gansey kind of wanted to live.” i think we should talk about how, despite everything, so did ronan.

[sassenashsworld]

Betrayal

Had this idea... dunno where it will lead If you like, you can follow on A03

Betrayal on Ao3

Chapter 1 : Who I am

"Are you with us, buddy?"

This voice is one he recognizes. That he should recognize. He understands and feels it deep down. At the bottom of who he believes he is. The whole thing remains weird. Like floating. He can't figure out where the confusion came from or what it means. A bodily response overtakes him, and he shakes his head, attempting to open his eyes.

It’s easier than it seems it should be.

Everything seems excessively confusing.

A reflection appeared before his eyes. A reflection on a black and glossy surface. The surface radiates a bright yellow, almost golden glow. Amber? He is no more certain than he is certain of who he is and where he is.

He's uncertain who he is.

And it sounds familiar.

He let out a growl, but something seemed odd.

A grunt almost echoes, but at a considerably higher pitch than his.

"Quiet!" the voice speaking to him barks back to the other person. "Eh, Nick, are you with us?" He asks him in a concerned tone.

Nick… This feeling of familiarity reappeared, as if a bubble was about to burst on the surface of his mind, only to disappear into the depths of its meanderings.

Nick…

"Nick, is that me?"

His voice almost astounds him. He understands objects, words, concepts, and meaning. So why is he missing anything else?

The man leaning on him takes a breath and seems terrified. However, this expression passes quickly over him, as if he swallowed his emotions faster than the air he had just exhaled. He stands quite upright, and 'Nick' can see other individuals surrounding them.

"She really messed up big time, unbelievable," scolds the man wearing the black glasses.

Behind him, a small man knocks feverishly on a weird keyboard in front of an unfamiliar screen. Something feels peculiar for 'Nick', as if things should be different. A formal but warm voice emanates from the room.

"We are putting forth our utmost effort. Disregarding the directive she gave renders it impracticable to overcome the institute's procedure."

The man with the sunglasses looks to another part of the room, and 'Nick' follows suit. A woman is shackled and stands alongside them, with a gag on her mouth that has been carefully inserted, depriving her of the ability to talk.

'Nick' doesn’t like the turn of events.

He's not sure why, but seeing this woman like that twists his stomach.

"Why did you restrain her?"

"Nora turned her back on us and was on the verge of handing you back to those who created you. Luckily, Ellie spotted the problem from a distance and alerted us to the fact that there was something wrong with our friend here."

"Our comrade Synth," says the small man on the keyboard, nervously.

The man with the glasses growls in defiance, as if he is not convinced.

"There is no definitive confirmation, and unless we perform an open cranial examination, the truth will forever remain elusive. And if we were to examine her mind this way, we would bid farewell to our only means of acquiring the remaining information."

"The remaining information?" asks 'Nick' in a raspy tone, oblivious of how raspy it can be because he feels nothing in his throat that could explain the anomaly.

The more he discovers about his position, the more questions he has.

Who are they? Who is he? Who is this Nora? What treachery are they referring to?

"What hell of command she used against you to render you … useless."

Nick nods again. He'd like to know more. He should understand. Not only for the sake of his soul, but because it is in his nature to desire to grasp everything. He is good at it. He picks up on even minor details rapidly. He understands deep down.

He's quite good at it.

It is a truth he is more familiar with than his given name. It is his nature, his life, and he understands it.

"Detective… I am a detective."

The stare behind the glasses appears to converge again on him, and sounds reveal to Nick that everyone in the room held their breath for a little while. The man again leans to support his gaze, it seems.

"Can you recall?"

"I know," he simply replies. "It's like a fact."

"What's your name?" inquires the woman, who had previously spoken with the man wearing spectacles.

"I…I do not know. You say Nick? That sounds fair to me. But I'm still missing so much."

Another man comes out laughing, a genuine chuckle that appears to throw the man with sunglasses into total disarray.

"This individual is truly inestimable. He cannot remember his own name, but he is adamant that he is a detective."

"Shut up, Danse. I don't get what's hilarious. Nick being offside is the worst thing that could happen in the Commonwealth."

"At least we know why Nora targeted him."

"No, it's unclear why Nora singled him out. We can't quite understand why Nora was targeted in the first place. We can't fathom what happened to Nora that caused her to deactivate her most loyal companion."

"Lover," the woman, out of the sigh of Nick, replies.

"What do you say, Doctor?" The man with glasses asks, as if she had just hit him with a baseball bat at the source of all men's pride.

"Hold on, I'm just about finished decrypting this memory. Once it's done, he'll be able to access it."

Nick instantly feels a veil rise in his brain. A flood of recollections rushes across his mind. Not in great quantities, but in excellent quality. He then realizes that the doctor, whoever she is, is right.

And he wonders if she was actually able to access the memories that made him flush.

"Nora," Nick reminds, "is my partner. She... we rely heavily on each other."

He returns his focus to the woman in cuffs, who looks at him coldly. He had never seen such coldness in those eyes.

Nora would never look at him in that way, according to what he could remember.

That woman isn't Nora.

And he's a synth...

[top10listsmagazine]

The Photography History: From the First Camera to Now

In this article, I will take you on a journey through the captivating photography history. From its humble beginnings with the invention of the first camera, we will explore the evolution of photography as an art form and the pioneers who shaped its development. We will also delve into the significant milestones that have shaped the industry and the enduring impact photography has had on society. The history of photography is a fascinating one, with many notable events, people, and technological advancements that have shaped its course. In this article, we will cover it all, from the early cameras and famous photographers to the latest techniques and innovations. Join me as we uncover the history of photography and its impact on our world. The Origins of Photography To understand the history of photography, we must first look at its origins. Photography, as we know it today, didn't just magically appear. It was the result of years of experimentation and the work of numerous photographers. The invention of photography can be traced back to the early 19th century. The first permanent photograph was taken in 1826 by Joseph Nicéphore Niépce using a camera obscura and a pewter plate coated with bitumen. This process, called heliography, paved the way for the development of photography as we know it. However, it was Louis-Jacques-Mandé Daguerre, a French painter, who created the first practical photographic process, known as the daguerreotype. This process produced sharp, highly-detailed images on a silver-plated copper sheet. The daguerreotype became popular in the 1840s and was the primary form of photography for the next few decades. Other inventors and photographers continued to develop new photographic techniques. In 1851, Frederick Scott Archer invented the wet plate collodion process, which allowed for faster exposure times and better image quality. This process replaced the daguerreotype and became the standard photographic process until the 1880s. The invention of the dry plate process in the 1870s made photography even more accessible and popular. This process used a glass plate coated with a dry emulsion, making it easier to handle and transport than wet plate collodion. The invention of the first handheld camera, the Kodak camera, in 1888 by George Eastman revolutionized photography. This small, easy-to-use camera was pre-loaded with enough film for 100 exposures, and once the film was used up, the entire camera was sent back to the manufacturer for processing. The Kodak camera made photography available to the masses and ushered in a new era of amateur photography. Early Forms of Photography The earliest forms of photography were experiments with light and chemistry. The camera obscura, a device that projected an image onto a flat surface using a pinhole, had been in use since ancient times. In the 16th century, artists used the camera obscura as a drawing aid. In the late 18th century, experiments with light-sensitive materials began. Thomas Wedgwood and Humphry Davy both experimented with using chemicals to produce images, but their processes were not permanent. It wasn't until the invention of heliography by Niépce that a permanent image could be produced. The evolution of photography from these early experiments to the sophisticated digital cameras we have today has been a remarkable journey. Pioneers of Photography Throughout the history of photography, there have been many talented individuals who have played a crucial role in shaping the art form. These individuals are often referred to as pioneers or influential photographers, and their contributions have helped to define and expand the field of photography as we know it today. One of the most famous pioneers of photography is Louis Daguerre, who is credited with inventing the daguerreotype process in 1839. This revolutionary technique involved exposing a silver-coated copper plate to iodine vapors, which made the plate light-sensitive. The plate was then exposed to light in a camera, which created a latent image that was developed using mercury fumes. Daguerre's invention paved the way for the development of other photographic processes and helped to establish photography as a legitimate art form. Another influential photographer from the early days of photography is Julia Margaret Cameron, who is known for her portraits of Victorian celebrities and allegorical scenes. Cameron's works were often criticized for being too emotional and unconventional, but her style and technique have had a lasting impact on the art of photography. Famous Pioneers of Photography Notable Contributions Ansel Adams Master of landscape photography, developed the zone system Edward Steichen Pioneered fashion photography, helped to establish photography as a legitimate art form Henri Cartier-Bresson Credited with creating the concept of the "decisive moment" Dorothea Lange Captured the struggles of Americans during the Great Depression, helped to establish documentary photography as a genre Other notable pioneers of photography include Ansel Adams, Edward Steichen, Henri Cartier-Bresson, and Dorothea Lange, among many others. Each of these individuals brought a unique perspective and style to the field of photography and helped to push the boundaries of what was possible with the medium. Overall, the pioneers of photography have made significant contributions to the art form and have helped to establish it as a legitimate and respected art form. Their work continues to inspire and influence photographers today, and their legacy will continue to shape the field of photography for years to come. Milestones in Photography History The history of photography is marked by significant milestones that pushed the boundaries of what was possible at the time. These milestones shaped the course of photography and influenced the way we capture moments and tell stories forever. Daguerreotype Invention (1839) The daguerreotype was the first publicly available photographic process, named after its inventor Louis-Jacques-Mandé Daguerre. This process enabled the creation of highly detailed images on silver-plated copper sheets, allowing for the capture of portrait photographs for the first time ever. Introduction of Color Photography (1861) Color photography revolutionized the field, adding a new dimension to photographic storytelling. The first successful color photograph was created by Scottish physicist James Clerk Maxwell, using a technique called three-color separation. This milestone paved the way for color film and the development of the modern-day color photography. Introduction of 35mm Film (1934) The 35mm film was a game-changing milestone in the evolution of photography. It was smaller, more portable, and affordable than previous film sizes, making it accessible to a wider audience. The 35mm film also enabled faster shooting and more shots per roll, allowing photographers to capture fleeting moments in time with ease. Development of Digital Photography (1975) The invention of the digital camera marked a significant milestone in the history of photography, leading to revolutionary changes in the way we capture and edit images. The first digital camera was invented by Steven Sasson, an engineer at Eastman Kodak. It had a resolution of 0.01 megapixels and recorded images onto a cassette tape. The development of digital cameras has led to new artistic possibilities and has democratized the field, allowing anyone to become a photographer with just a smartphone. The Rise of Social Media (2000s) The 2000s saw the rise of social media platforms, allowing photographers to share their work across the globe. Social media platforms like Instagram and Flickr have become an integral part of the photography industry, providing a platform for emerging photographers to showcase their work and connect with like-minded individuals. The democratization of photography has allowed for greater diversity and creativity in the field, making it easier for new voices to be heard. Evolution of Cameras Cameras have come a long way since their invention in the early 19th century. The historical evolution of photography is inextricably linked to the development of the camera, as each advancement in technology has led to new photographic possibilities and artistic expressions. In this section, we will explore the significant camera inventions and developments in photography throughout history, including photographic advancements that have made capturing and editing images easier and more efficient. Early Camera Inventions The first camera was invented in 1816 by Nicéphore Niépce, a French inventor, but it wasn't until 1839 that Louis Daguerre, another Frenchman, developed the daguerreotype process, which made photography practical and accessible to the masses. The daguerreotype process involved exposing a polished silver plate to light in a camera obscura and treating the resulting image with mercury vapor to produce a permanent image. This process was widely used until the mid-1850s when the collodion process was introduced. The Collodion Process The collodion process, invented in 1851 by Frederick Scott Archer, used a mixture of collodion and chemicals that were poured onto a sheet of glass, creating a wet plate. The plate was then exposed in a camera and developed immediately after exposure. The resulting images were much sharper and had greater detail than the earlier daguerreotypes, and the process remained popular until the 1880s, when gelatin dry plates were introduced. Gelatin Dry Plates Gelatin dry plates were introduced in the 1880s and revolutionized photography by allowing photographers to use a plate that was already sensitized to light, eliminating the need to prepare the plate immediately before exposure. This made the process faster and more convenient, and it allowed photographers to capture faster-moving subjects. Gelatin dry plates remained the standard until the 1930s, when roll film was introduced. Roll Film Roll film was first introduced by George Eastman in 1884 and became popular in the 20th century with the introduction of the Kodak Brownie, a simple, lightweight camera that was affordable for the average person. Roll film allowed photographers to take multiple shots without having to change plates, making photography even more accessible and widespread. Digital Imaging The advent of digital imaging in the late 20th century revolutionized the field of photography once again. By the 1990s, digital cameras had become widely available, and they continue to evolve and improve to this day. Digital imaging allows photographers to take and edit photos on the go, instantly previewing their shots and making adjustments as needed. With digital imaging, photographers no longer need to rely on film or darkroom processes, opening up new creative and technical possibilities. "Each advancement in technology has led to new photographic possibilities and artistic expressions." The evolution of cameras has been a fascinating journey, reflecting the larger story of technological and artistic progress throughout history. As cameras continue to evolve and improve, we can only imagine the new possibilities and creative expressions that will emerge in the future. Photography Techniques through the Years From the earliest days of photography, artists and innovators have explored various techniques to capture and create images. In this section, we will examine some of the most significant photographic techniques throughout history, from early forms of photography to the digital age. The Birth of Photography Techniques The earliest photography techniques often required long exposures and cumbersome equipment. Daguerreotypes, one of the earliest photographic processes, involved exposing a silver-plated copper plate to light, creating a highly detailed image. However, this process was time-consuming and required proper handling, making it difficult to use in the field. Cyanotypes, invented by Sir John Herschel in the mid-19th century, involved using a chemical solution to create a blue-and-white print. This process was popular for creating copies of technical drawings and quickly became a favorite of photographers for its unique aesthetic. The Evolution of Photographic Techniques As photographic technology continued to advance, so too did the techniques used to capture and manipulate images. With the advent of roll film, photographers had greater flexibility and could take more shots in a shorter amount of time. This led to the rise of street photography and other forms of candid photography. Color photography was also a major breakthrough, allowing photographers to convey a new level of emotion and realism in their images. Early color techniques such as Autochrome and Kodachrome paved the way for modern color film and digital imaging. Photographic Techniques in the Digital Age Today, digital technology has revolutionized the way we take and manipulate photographs. Software tools such as Adobe Photoshop and Lightroom have given photographers unprecedented control over their images, allowing them to adjust and enhance images with incredible precision. High Dynamic Range (HDR) photography is another popular technique in the digital age, allowing photographers to capture a wider range of light and color in their images. This technique involves taking multiple shots of the same scene at different exposures and then combining them to create a single image with greater detail. "Photography takes an instant out of time, altering life by holding it still." Dorothea Lange The quote by photographer Dorothea Lange highlights the power of photography to capture moments and convey emotion. Throughout history, photographers have used various techniques to tell their stories and create stunning images that continue to resonate with viewers today. Iconic Photographs in History Over the course of history, there have been many iconic photographs that have left an indelible mark on our minds. These images have the power to move us, to inspire us, and to challenge our perceptions of the world around us. They represent poignant moments in time, artistic achievements, and historical milestones that have shaped our understanding of the past and informed our vision for the future. One such photograph is the iconic image of the "Tank Man" taken during the 1989 Tiananmen Square protests in Beijing, China. In this photograph, a lone young man stands in front of a line of tanks, his body blocking their path. This powerful image became a symbol of resistance and defiance against oppression, resonating with people around the world. Another iconic photograph is "The Afghan Girl," taken by renowned photographer Steve McCurry in 1984. The photograph shows the striking portrait of a young Afghan girl with piercing green eyes, her face framed by a red headscarf. This image became an emblem of the plight of Afghan refugees and a symbol of hope for those who have suffered the consequences of war and displacement. Other famous photographers have made their mark in history through their iconic images, such as Ansel Adams and his breathtaking landscape photography, Dorothea Lange and her compelling documentary photography during the Great Depression, and Annie Leibovitz and her stunning celebrity portraits. These iconic photographs showcase the power of visual storytelling and the enduring impact that photography can have on society. They remind us of the importance of capturing moments in time, preserving memories, and conveying powerful messages through the lens of a camera. The Importance of Photography in History Photography has played a vital role in shaping our understanding of history. As the saying goes, a picture is worth a thousand words, and this is particularly true when it comes to historical photography. Through photographs, we can catch a glimpse of what life was like in past eras, witness significant events, and explore the cultural, social, and political movements that have shaped the world we live in today. Historical photography allows us to see the faces and places of the past, conveying a sense of immediacy and authenticity that cannot be replicated in other forms of media. From the earliest photographic prints to present-day digital images, photographs have served as powerful tools for documenting human experience and preserving memories for future generations. Perhaps one of the most significant ways in which photography has impacted history is by serving as a vehicle for social change. Many iconic photographs, such as Dorothea Lange's "Migrant Mother" and Bill Hudson's "Flower Power," have become visual symbols of movements, cultural shifts, and political struggles. These images have not only captured the public's attention but have also helped galvanize support for social and political causes, ultimately shaping the course of history. Moreover, historical photographs provide valuable insights into the past, allowing us to analyze and interpret cultural, social, and political trends in ways that would be impossible without visual aids. By examining photographs taken throughout history, we can gain a richer understanding of the context in which events occurred, how people thought, and even how they lived. Therefore, it is clear that photography has played a crucial role in shaping our understanding of history and preserving our collective memory. Without historical photography, our understanding of the past would be limited, and our ability to learn from it would be severely constrained. Photography Movements and Styles Throughout the history of photography, different movements and styles have emerged, each with its unique characteristics and artistic objectives. These movements and styles have contributed to the continuous evolution of photography we see today. In this section, I will delve into some of the most prominent photography movements and their mark on the history of photography. Documentary Photography Documentary photography emerged in the early 20th century, with photographers capturing everyday life and social issues. This movement aimed to represent reality and often focused on marginalized communities and social injustice. One of the most famous documentary photographers was Dorothea Lange, known for her powerful images of the Great Depression era. Surrealism Surrealist photography originated in the 1920s and aimed to explore the subconscious mind and dreams. This movement used techniques such as photomontage and double exposure to create otherworldly images. One of the most influential surrealist photographers was Man Ray, known for his experimental and unconventional work. Straight Photography Straight photography, also known as purism, emerged in the 1920s and aimed to capture the objective reality without manipulation or interpretation. This movement emphasized the importance of sharp focus, clean lines, and high contrast. Edward Weston, known for his crisp and precise images of still life and landscapes, was a prominent figure in straight photography. Conceptual Photography Conceptual photography emerged in the 1960s and aimed to convey ideas and concepts through images, often using text and performance art. This movement challenged the traditional boundaries of photography and sought to blur the lines between reality and imagination. Cindy Sherman, known for her self-portraits exploring gender and identity, is one of the most famous conceptual photographers. Postmodern Photography Postmodern photography emerged in the 1980s and aimed to challenge the traditional notions of art and representation. This movement used techniques such as appropriation, collage, and deconstruction to critique cultural and social norms. Read the full article

[romioneficfest]

Theirs and Ours

Title: Theirs and Ours

Prompt: Day 4 - post-war, kitchen, doll, Ron catches Hermione in a moment of self doubt

Author: 

Summary: Who knew babysitting 4 kids would make Hermione doubt herself and the future of the Weasley-Granger household?

Rating: G

CW: mentions of pregnancy

* * *

The house was a mess. It always was after they had one of the kids over, but today there had been four. Through a comically coincidental series of events, Ron and Hermione had somehow found themselves watching two of Bill and Fleur’s three children, along with Fred the second, and their godson James, all in the same afternoon.

Hermione loved the children, of course, but she didn’t have the same boundless energy and youthful enthusiasm that made Ron everyone’s favorite uncle. And looking after four of them at once made her very glad that Ron had assured her he had no interest in a brood the size of his parents’. She was already nervous enough about the one they were expecting.

It would have been faster to wash the dishes left behind from lunch with magic, but the warmth of the water and the rhythmic scrubbing of doing it the muggle way helped slow Hermione’s racing mind as she replayed the afternoon in her head. Ginny had dropped James off first, on her way to the Daily Prophet to give an interview on the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. He and Fred had been their scheduled charges for the day, and George arrived with him soon after. Then Fleur had burst through the Floo with Victoire and Louis, so distraught about Dominique falling from her toy broom and having to be taken to St. Mungo’s that she explained what had happened in French. Fortunately, Hermione knew enough to get by, and she had sent Fleur on her way to catch up with Bill at the hospital, promising their care of the two blonde-haired children.

Four kids.

Ron had taken it all in stride, of course. He entertained the kids, helped Hermione fix lunch, changed several very stinky diapers of James’ without even blinking...all of it came so naturally to him. Hermione was exhausted even on her best days, the early effects of pregnancy frequently taking their toll. So after spending the day chasing four kids around the house, it was a wonder she was even still standing, really.

She set the last plate in the rack to dry and turned off the water. Ron sauntered into the kitchen then, looking no worse for the wear as he tossed a doll onto the dining table and then poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. “Victoire left that here, remind me to grab it when we head to the Burrow tomorrow.”

Hermione picked it up, toying with the doll’s hair. “Sure thing.”

Ron leaned back against the counter and cocked an eyebrow at her as she sat down, still holding their niece’s doll. “You okay? Want to go have a kip? I know it was a lot today.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, that’s alright. I’m fine. Let’s order in tonight, though, yeah?”

“Whatever you want.” Ron sat down beside her and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. He waited a moment and then put his hand over hers, stilling her motions. She knew he could tell something was bothering her but was trying not to press her.

“How do you do it?” she asked softly.

“Do what?”

“It’s so easy for you, with the kids.”

Ron shrugged, trying to play it off. “Sometimes.” When she didn’t say anything else, he added, “It’ll be different with ours.”

Hermione scoffed. “So everyone says.”

“I mean, the good and bad. It’ll all be different. It’s easy to be the fun uncle, hosting tea parties and teaching them to ride a broom. Doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll be a good dad.”

“Yes, you will,” Hermione said firmly. “Me, on the other hand…”

“Hermione—“

“Ron, I wasn’t good with kids when I was a kid. Some might have even called me a nightmare.” She nudged him playfully with her shoulder, and Ron chuckled as he wrapped his arm around her.

“What kind of bloody idiot would do that?” he teased in return. “Look,” he continued, turning serious, “the truth is that I don’t know if it’ll be easier for you with our baby.”

There was nothing comforting about his statement, aside from its honesty. She had heard the same platitude repeatedly—from her mum, Molly, Fleur, Ginny, everyone: wait until it’s yours. Hermione desperately wanted to believe them, but it was just so difficult to fathom. She didn’t take to the many Weasley children the way the others had, didn’t instinctively know how to hold them, or what to do when they cried. Truthfully, she was just waiting for them all to start attending Hogwarts so that at least she would be the go-to resource for homework help. She wasn’t sure what she really had to offer, until then.

“What I do know,” Ron went on, pulling her attention back to him. “Is that we’re doing this together. We’ll be a team, like always.”

Hermione leaned into his side with a content sigh. Ron always knew the right thing to say to her, and she was grateful for his support. “Thank you,” she whispered, tilting her head up to kiss his cheek before resting against his shoulder. Her eyelids were starting to feel heavy, and she thought it might be nice to lie down for a bit, after all. “Maybe we should go have that kip,” she murmured around a yawn. “While we still can, before the baby comes.”

She felt Ron’s lips against her hair as his hand drifted down to her stomach, which was just barely starting to bulge. “I promise to let you have all the naps you need. Even when she comes.”

Hermione lifted her head to look at him curiously. “She?” They weren’t meant to find out for several weeks yet what they were having, and they had only referred to the baby in generic terms so far.

Ron shrugged again and gave her the lopsided smile she could never resist. “Just a feeling.” He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “C’mon. There’s a couch and a blanket in the other room with your name on it.”

[therussellpeck]

Infection Protocol

So this is the first thing I ever wrote that I finished and had any kind of pride in, it’s just shy of a year old, I’ve submitted it to magazines and been turned down. But now I’m going to post it here for people to read. 

I imagined this as one episode/event/story within a larger setting I’m working on setting more stories in. There’s a few easter eggs and references, at least in the characters, let me know if you catch them. Also let me know if you like it, Kessler will appear in more stories as I’m currently planning them.

“Yes, I understand. No. I’ll take care of it myself.” Agent Lawrence Kessler informed the woman on the other end of the line before hanging up. The breath out of his lungs misted in the cool mountain air.

Kessler shut the office door behind him, keeping his eyes away from the old kennel and its current occupant. His rookie partner, Scott Cord. OMEN had sent the pair of them after reports of a werewolf in the Wallowa National Forest. 

Tonight Cord lay on the floor of the long unused dog kennel, groaning weakly as he had been since the night before. His uniform had been stripped down to the shirt on his back and hispants. The rest of it was in the truck. The home office had told Kessler that he had to stay strong and follow the infection protocol. There was no quarter given in their line of work and he knew what he had to do before leaving. 

If there was a single ounce of liquor in this building or any of the little sheds surrounding it, then he would have found it. There wasn’t anything. Dry as a bone.  “Damn.”

The sun had set twenty minutes ago. Soon the choice would be taken out of his hands and he didn’t know if that was a curse or a blessing. It wouldn’t make him feel any better about this. Cord was a good kid. Reckless, liked to run his mouth, but he was a good kid when he didn’t feel like he had something to prove. He could still make the choice himself. Lawrence should have taken point and gone in front. That decision would have saved him this whole position. Scott would have made the call a lot easier and he’d have made the right call. Lawrence's trigger finger was faster than Scott’s. It was the fastest in their whole agency. But he had to be prepared to pull that trigger.He should have called in when the kid had been bit. But he’d held off, hoping it had been a dry bite. But werewolves weren’t vipers. Every bite spread infection. The way the kid’s fine blonde hair had gone dark and coarse gave away that he was changing and there was no hope for him. In two hundred years of active scientific research there was no signs of a cure. Just silver.

He could leave him here. Hope that the kennel kept him in place until he starved, or turned back and decided to end it himself. 

The gun lay on the desk in front of Kessler, the desk lamp keeping it easy to see, easy to grab. It wasn’t loaded. The clip lay next to it on the old beaten wood. Protocol dictated that an infected agent be executed to contain the spread.There was half a clip, seven rounds in that clip. He only needed one. It was like putting down a dog who had contracted rabies. He did always hate how Old Yeller ended. 

Suddenly Cord sat up, and then he was convulsing. It was hard not to look because it sounded as if he was beginning to choke on his own tongue. And then came a sound like drowning. Two days ago Scott Cord was the healthiest little shit  Lawrence Kessler had ever met. Now the choice was out of his hands. Except it wasn’t. He could still walk away, but he couldn’t. Not really, not in good conscience. He kept his eyes on the gun and the ammunition. 

Cord was sounding less and less human.Then he was screaming. The louder the noise from the kennel, the more intently Kessler stared at the gun in its spotlight. The more he thought about the way the dust smelled when it mixed with the blood coming up in Cord’s throat. Spilling on the floor as his body rejected its former nature for the new one.

Could he pick up the gun without trembling? He’d never shot and killed anyone before. He’d never even put down a dog. He had killed monsters. Never a person. As long as he didn’t look then he could keep thinking of Cord as the stupid kid who charged off after the werewolf. The gun did tremble in his hand, but remained empty. He could refuse to look but the sound was impossible to ignore. The clip lay on the desk not a second longer and was locked and loaded as the weight of the thing Cord had become pressed against the metal trappings of the kennel. Kessler’s eyes finally met with Cord’s, or what used to be Cord. The firearm was raised, the hardest part was he could still see the human beneath the fur and the blazing yellow eyes. The sound of thunder cracked the air and then Kessler delivered to the kid his saving grace. A blessed death before he could be the thing they hunted.

The truck felt unbalanced as he drove away. Like he was missing something.  He wasn’t. OMEN was an agency for protecting people from the things that went bump in the night. The kid had just been another victim of the age-old struggle. Kessler had to believe that or he’d killed him for nothing. It was a long drive back to the home office, DC was far from Idaho. What was the story they’d spin for the kid’s mother?

[mala-sadas]

On the Legendary Wolves’ Plot in Pokéspe SWSH

I really like the way the legendary wolves’ plot is being handled in Pokespe so far. They’ve made a handful of changes and additions to the plot as it’s presented in the games that make it feel integral to the main characters and the overarching story, as well as just being more interesting to follow.

Part of the reason why this plotline is weak in the games is because it’s presented as just a minor subplot. You occasionally get more information about what really happened as you progress through the game, but it doesn’t seem important for you to pay attention to it until you get to the climax and Rose reveals that he’s caused the Darkest Day. Even though you encounter Zacian or Zamazenta in the Slumbering Weald at the beginning of the game, it’s not until Circhester that Hop connects that encounter to the legend you’re unraveling. And in the grand scheme of things, all that encounter does is confirm that the sword and shield Pokémon live in the Slumbering Weald - which Sonia apparently also learns about in a book that mentions Zacian and Zamazenta by name. So, why was it necessary, again?

But right out of the gate, Spe immediately ties the legendary wolves into the main characters’ backstory and motivations. A year prior to the beginning of the chapter, Sou goes to the Slumbering Weald to try to find the Rusted Sword and Rusted Shield. He knows about them – and has an interest in them – because he’s from a family of swordsmiths, and he wants to see genuine, historical pieces of armor in person. Meanwhile, Schilly goes to the Weald to look for a Wishing Star that she had seen falling, since she wants to get it made into a Dynamax Band. The pair encounter the illusory Zacian and Zamazenta, and Sou immediately comes to the conclusion that these two are here to protect the Rusted Sword and Rusted Shield – a conclusion supported by the fact that when they walk through the illusions to try to take a look at the artifacts, they’re knocked out by a flash of light. When they awaken, the Rusted Sword and Rusted Shield are gone - as are all of Schilly’s Pokémon. Sou decides to start traveling with Schilly because he feels partly responsible for her Pokémon going missing, and Schilly decides to compete in the Gym Challenge to spread the word about her missing Pokémon and make it easier for her to find them. Additionally, it’s later revealed that Sou decided to participate in the Gym Challenge so he can get stronger and challenge Zacian and Zamazenta to a battle, believing that they’ll only allow someone with skill as a Trainer and an earnest desire to see the Rusted Sword and Rusted Shield to see the artifacts in person.

So, in short, the reason why Sou and Schilly met and their respective reasons for taking on the Gym Challenge are both intrinsically linked to their encounter with the legendary wolves. This makes the wolves’ presence relevant throughout the whole story, ensuring that the reader doesn’t forget about the encounter by the time it becomes relevant again. (I also appreciate that they gave the wolves a concrete reason to appear before the protags in the Weald, something which the games and anime never really bothered to provide.)

Additionally, the decision to introduce the Rusted Sword and Rusted Shield right away instead of saving their introduction for the climax like what happens in the games was a really smart choice. First, it ties directly into Sou’s interests, giving him a good reason to be interested in the Rusted Sword and Rusted Shield as well as the other legends involving swords and shields. Second, it allows the characters to link together the encounter with Zacian and Zamazenta to the information they’re learning about the legends - Sou observes that the sword and shield held by the statue of the hero in Motostoke as well as the sword and shield depicted on the Hammerlocke tapestries resemble the Rusted Sword and Rusted Shield, suggesting that the legends have a connection to the artifacts. And when I say “suggesting”, I don’t just mean in the sense that it’s something you can interpolate from the text. I mean that Sou literally says, “It’s not entirely unlikely that the three are all the same,” and Raihan brings up later that if they’re the same sword and shield, the legendary wolves may be connected to these events in some way as well.

This is another thing that I really appreciate about the way that Pokéspe is handling this plotline: the characters actually speculate, hypothesize, and draw conclusions about the evidence that they’re being presented with. In the games, most of the encounters with Sonia just involve you pointing out incredibly obvious things about the historical artifact/legend, and Sonia agreeing that they’re significant. She asks a lot of questions, but doesn’t postulate answers to them unless they’re directly being shown to you. And even some of the conclusions she draws seem like leaps of logic, like when she assumes that the statue behind the Stow-on-Side mural must be correct because it was made in “truly ancient times” - like, we just discovered this statue, Sonia. We have no idea how old it is.

But in Spe, the characters draw logical conclusions from the information they have, which means they can figure things out a lot faster than they do in the games and makes the conversation interesting to read whenever they learn new information. For example, Sou speculates that the sword and shield wielded by the hero might’ve had special powers, which is true. How did he figure this out? He explains that he thought about it because the hero used them to fight giant, rampaging Pokémon, which is a bit difficult to accomplish with a normal sword and shield.

Another great example of this is in Hammerlocke vault, when Sou guesses that Chairman Rose wants to cause the Darkest Day. One might think that he’s figuring things out way too quickly, but the thing is, this conclusion makes perfect sense given the information he has. While looking at the tapestries, Sou notices that the first one depicts a Wishing Star falling and the second one depicts the Darkest Day occurring. Thus, he guesses that Wishing Stars might have caused the Darkest Day, a hypothesis that Sonia agrees with because they’ve already figured out that the Darkest Day has a connection to Dynamaxing, and Wishing Stars cause Dynamaxing. But Sou had previously learned from Bede that Chairman Rose is collecting a massive amount of Wishing Stars, so it’s only natural that his next thought would be to wonder if Chairman Rose is - advertently or inadvertently - going to cause the Darkest Day again. This immediately ties the Rose plot in with the legendary wolves’ plot, a connection that doesn’t start to be made until your third visit to Hammerlocke in the games.

In general, the Hammerlocke vault scene is way better in Spe than it is in the games, where all you get is Sonia saying that the disaster depicted is probably the Darkest Day and wondering if there was one hero or two. Besides the conclusions that I already mentioned, Sonia also connects the disaster shown in the tapestries to the disaster shown in the Turffield geoglyph, concluding that they’re both depictions of the Darkest Day. However, Sou points out the lack of giant Pokémon in the tapestries, which are always associated with the Darkest Day. I really like how they point out both the similarities and the differing details between the stories, which makes it a little more understandable why no one has ever put together that this myth of the creation of Galar and the legend of the Darkest Day might be referring to the same event.

Finally, the last major improvement that I want to talk about is the one that was introduced in the latest chapter: an explanation for why the legendary wolves’ existence was lost from the legends. The destruction of the Stow-on-Side mural happens offscreen in this story, which is kind of understandable - the main significance of this statue in the games was to introduce the concept of Pokémon being involved in the legend, which Sou, Sonia, and Raihan had already figured out. This statue holds a completely different significance here: when Sonia is telling the protagonists about the newly discovered ruins, she says that she thinks the mural was put up by someone who wanted to deliberately hide the two Pokémon from the legend, giving all the credit to the humans. She points out the tapestry at Bob’s Your Uncle as further proof of this, which - given its condition - looks like someone threw it away so it would disappear from history. 

I don’t believe that the games ever explain how the tapestry ended up in the restaurant, so the fact that it’s given any sort of context here is really neat. But more importantly than that, it’s really interesting that they’re stating outright that the legendary wolves were deliberately removed from the legend. In the games, Sonia wonders why the ruins at Stow-on-Side would be hidden, but doesn’t offer an explanation - she doesn’t even say anything to suggest that it was done intentionally. The question is never brought up again. So I’m really hoping that Spe won’t go that route, and this revelation will have broader implications in the story next chapter or even later - that we’re going to find out who covered it up, or possibly that someone in the present day knows about the cover-up and is willingly propagating it. The immediate assumption is that it’ll be connected to Sordward and Shielbert in some way, since they benefit from the legend being that their ancestors were the heroes who saved Galar. But I think it could also be interesting if we find out that Rose knew about the statue and is deliberately trying to keep the existence of the sword and shield Pokémon covered up - it’d make a lot of sense why he was so unforgiving to Bede for trying to destroy the mural if that were true. Either way, I’m excited to see where they take this concept.

tl;dr The way Pokéspe has been handling the plot points related to the legendary wolves has been really good so far, much better than it was in the games, and I’m very excited to see how it develops going forward!

[writing-in-april]

Dr Jekyll or Mr. Hyde (3/?)

Part three: the gift

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: The next meeting rolls around and Reader tries to get Spencer to open up in baby steps. Turns out he was more willing to let her in than she first expected.

Part One, Part Two

Series Masterlist

A/N: Heyyy this is my third part for Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde!!! It’s also the fifteenth installment of my 30 fics in 30 days for April event! The plot is finally about to pick up y’all!!!! I’ve got so many plans where this series is headed (though I don’t know necessarily where it’s going to end) and I’m really excited!!! This chapter brings in other references from non gothic literature as well which was fun to do- these references and metaphors are really fun to craft. I’m curious to see y’all’s reaction to this part- leave me an ask if you want here (I promise I won’t bite 🧛🏻‍♀️) Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy!!

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Soft dom Spencer that turns back into slightly mean dom Spencer, Public sex, Masturbation (F), Oral sex (M receiving), Face fucking, Reader has a nickname- I think that’s it let me know if there needs to be anything else

Main Masterlist Word Count: 4.1k 😱

A meeting of the classics was once again scrawled on the whiteboard when you entered the library. It had the usual time 7pm to 11:30pm written right underneath. Instantly you fell down the rabbit hole and into another world, reality was turned on its head whenever you opened those wooden doors. Every encounter you had in the shelves, in the reading rooms, and even at the information desk seemed like you were walking into a world crafted by a surrealist. Everything was just slightly twisted and turned to feel slightly off from the reality outside those doors. It oddly made you feel more at home than your own apartment.

Each time a meeting rolled around you’d get an email notification a few weeks prior, informing you as to what the theme would be. The book club was already more extravagant than any other you had ever heard before, adding to the surrealist nature of where you were located. Last time was a somewhat lavish affair, this time it was coated in fleeting luxury.

Sure, the 1920s theme with the undeniable tinge of influence from The Great Gatsby would always lend itself to luxury, even with cheap decorations. But, the way the decor around you almost felt real told you exactly what your monthly entrance fee was going towards. You could complain about the steep price of admission, it could burn a hole into your wallet if you weren’t so careful. At any rate it did not matter, you were sure they wouldn’t care if you complained, and besides this was the only thing you really every splurged on. Plus there was the added aspect of the person you would no longer be able to indulge in if you let your membership lapse.

It was nice to treat yourself, get a taste of what it would be like to live basking in luxury 24/7. Flutes of champagne were passed around like hot cakes, admittedly they were non alcoholic after an incident a few months prior before you joined with some whiskey. It could have been a rumor fed to you by some of the vapid attendees to stir the pot so the library may cave to make their guests happy. You were going to keep your mouth shut because truth be told you didn’t mind that they were non alcoholic. You wanted to be sober for this. You wanted to be sober for Spencer.

Normally whenever a meeting rolled around you’d gladly be mingling with everyone around you. Even if personally you viewed some of their insights on whatever book they wished to discuss as shallow, seeing another’s perspective was always intriguing.

Something, namely someone, lurking in the shadows had your attention instead. It felt strikingly similar to the night of your first encounter, his eyes piercing into you, undressing you with them. The only thing that had changed is that you knew his name with some small added details. You didn't even know what type of Doctor he was, let alone what kind of man he was. But, you hoped tonight might change your prospects.

You had gotten a peek underneath the mask each time, just enough to pull you in closer. Whatever might lurk beneath, which still may be dangerous, for right now made you thrum with excitement. Spencer was just as surreal to you as the rest of the library, though he was definitely more shadowy than the others. It wouldn’t surprise you if he wasn’t real outside of here.

He could possibly just be a ghost trapped to roam the halls that instead of wanting to scare you, pleasured you. It was a silly thought for sure, but until he divulged more you struggled to convince yourself that he was real, even though his touch certainly did. The world was very different outside the library’s doors and you’d be content to be locked inside of it, that is if Spencer opened his own doors.

You circled each other for a while, neither of you talking to anyone, just staring with lust in your eyes. Tired of this cat and mouse game that you were unwilling to break out of stubbornness, he set down an empty ‘champagne’ flute to weave through the crowd to meet you.

No small talk or pleasantries came out of his mouth when he started your first conversation of the night, “At least you fit the theme this time.”

He had gestured to the dress you had chosen, a simple fringed red dress that very obviously was inspired by the era. It definitely gave you a sense of allure that leaned dark along with your dark lipstick, giving you your own cloak of mystery to match Spencer’s. At least there was a cloak for everyone else; Spencer could read you like an open book even with all your secrets. Spencer just had the ability to speed read them faster than any other human.

There was still depth to you, seemingly boundless, and certainly much more than the staple embodiment of a 1920s woman at a party being eyed at by man. You were no Daisy Buchanan that’s for sure, and Spencer was no Gatsby from what you have seen.

“As I told you last time I did fit the theme, Spencer.” You kept your lips shut tight about the fact that you had partially chosen this dress for him, picking a much more historically accurate style within your budget. Skating around the topic with ease you then teased, “Was that your way of complimenting my dress?”

“No…” That definitely meant yes, just by going off of the way he eyed your curves.

“At least you have it easy, you only have to throw on a suit, which is boring.” He snorted at that and didn’t disagree with your stinging jab at men’s fashion.

“That’s true, I don’t think I would want to see you in a boring suit, Shelley.” Inching closer to you so he possessively put a hand on your waist. He was close enough now that you could feel his breath on the exposed skin on your neck, a shiver trickling down your spine at that. His next words had a different reaction from you, your panties getting damp immediately after, “A dress has easier- access.”

The conversation turned from your typical banter into innuendos covered in mystery just like you both, with Spencer’s not being an act like you were trying to put on. You could let him do whatever he wanted to you again, which you thoroughly enjoyed, but there was a lingering fantasy you hadn’t voiced that had been in your head since he pinned you against the shelves.

“You didn’t let me reciprocate last time.” You whispered into his ear, your dirty intentions hidden by innocent words. The people around you had no idea what was going on, still milling about while you leaned in closer, only a few people looking over at you both curiously before moving on. Your next move was bold, wrapping your hand around his tie to pull him in closer, so you could keep your request a secret for his ears alone, “Will you allow me to return the favor?”

By the way his face twisted up at your words you knew you were testing a limit. All of your encounters thus far had been him touching you, not you touching him.

“Thought you would have forgotten about that by now.” This was his attempt to change the subject, to move on and expect that you’ll drop it just like him.

Everyone you knew called you stubborn for a reason, gripping his tie even harder you then doubled down, “Will you let me?”

It was highly unlikely that you were going to get a verbal response to your request, most likely you were about to get rejected, hard. You had tested your limits throughout your small time together. This however was entirely different and potentially over the line as to what Spencer would willingly allow.

Instead of shutting you out and shutting down he surprised you by opening his mouth to form the word, “Yes.”

With that you started to tug him out of the room, discreetly of course to not attract any unwanted attention and you didn’t pull him by his tie. Your fingers were wrapped around his wrist delicately, his first taste of you touching him while you guided him to a spot for your clandestine affair.

Your eagerness made you too impatient to wait and find a better secluded spot away from the crowd. The corner you chose was beyond risky to say the least, only a wall separating the both of you and the club guests. If you were lucky and went quickly you’d avoid being caught.

You wondered how long it had been since someone had offered to do this for him, instead of him probably forcing them to their knees while he continued to control the encounter with their consent. His steadfast control over each time he touched you had never wavered up until this point.

“You tell me if you want me to stop.”

He gulped hard, giving you a look like he was considering stopping you. Ultimately he kept his mouth shut, letting you drop to your knees and begin to unbutton his slacks. You worked quickly, unsure how much time you had without being caught in this little corner barely off to the side you chose or how long Spencer would let you touch him with impunity.

You hadn’t been able to really get a good look at his cock, either you had been facing away from it or it was trapped in the confines of the slacks he always wore. When you freed him from his boxers you could not help but admire it, even if only for a second.

Beautiful was an odd way to describe a cock, but there was no other word you could really find in the moment while you were on your knees. He was already hard, even leaking at the tip, and all from a few teasing words from your mouth. You’d have to test your affect on him more in the future, it obviously excited him.

When you held it in your hands and licked him from his base to tip, he had to bite on his fist at the suddenness of your touch. You pumped him a few times languidly before bringing the head to your lips and letting it slip into your mouth. He was allowing you to explore without fear of any repercussions. His hand that now rested at the back of your head being the only signal that he could take back the control anytime he wanted.

When you began to bob your head a wave of new precum hit your tongue. The taste of Spencer on your tongue was to put it lightly, intoxicating, you’d be content to taste him everyday if he let you.

Hoping too much would be your downfall if you let it, you pushed it out of your mind so you could be content with the baby steps forward you were taking. This right here, was him being vulnerable, even with you on his knees. You’d have to tread carefully if you wanted another crack in his mask to see even his darkest features, not a chink in his armor that would have him running away injured.

You weren’t sure what made the energy shift in the corner you were on your knees in, you suspected it was the soft caress of your hand along his thigh. He clammed up, suddenly wanting to take back control of the situation, no longer content with being vulnerable. It was quite clear to you that he saw giving up his control as a moment of weakness, just by going off of the once content look on his face that had twisted and seized up in frustration. Whatever he would let you do to him or whatever he wanted to do to you would always leave you wet with desire. It would however, be a lie to say that you didn’t want to see him back in a similar position one day. Getting him to be vulnerable for any extended period of time, even if it was while you were on his knees for him in a typical position for submission, was a form of progress. A little bit twisted, yes, but it still was progress.

Control fell back easily into his hands, now wasn’t the time to fight him on it; you’d be a good girl for now. The hand that had been resting gently on the back of your head tightened its grip to start controlling the pace.

You let your hand let go of his cock, resting them both on his thighs now instead. Your eyes were glassy as you tried to meet his sable irises while he began to thrust into your mouth. All you could really see was his Adam’s apple bobbing, curls falling as his head tipped back with his jaw slack. At first his thrusts had tested the waters, to see how much you could take. They then became more forceful when you gripped his thighs through his slacks and tried to pull him close.

The corner you had pulled him into was more exposed than any previous dalliance. Last time, even though it was out in the open, the stacks of shelves piled high with books shielded you along with his body pinned on top of yours. In comparison, this time you could hear the people laughing and mingling about in the next room over.

That only made you keen, moaning around him softly when you heard someone start a conversation close to the shared wall. Spencer, ever astute to your actions, picked up on what had you moaning around him. He forced your head down as far as you could go, your nose almost nuzzling the hairs at his base. He held you there harshly for a moment while he spoke, “You like it when we’re close to getting caught don’t you? That’s why you chose this spot isn’t it? You aren’t just satisfied with sneaking around, you want to get caught doing it.”

Before you could confirm or deny his questions you had to pull off of him so you could catch your breath. A string of spit connected from your mouth to the top of his cock remained unbroken until he brought his thumb to your mouth so you could continue to suck on something. He bent down to look at you, inspecting your makeup melted by tears and your spit covered lips. When he then moved his thumb from out of your mouth to grip your cheeks hard you whimpered, wondering what you did wrong, “Answer my questions.”

You scrambled to answer to avoid any type of punishment. You couldn’t make him feel good the way you wanted to if he was angry at you. Trying to muster up some conviction failed as your answer still came out shaky, “Y-yes! I-I liikeee it, Doctor!”

Satisfied with your answer and the amount of time your break had been he let go of the grip on your cheeks to resume. He slipped back inside your mouth swiftly, seeing no need to start out slow again. This time when you looked up, you found him meeting your irises with his own making you squirm underneath his piercing gaze.

“Touch yourself, we don’t have time for both of us.” With any other man you would have been irritated because mostly likely they were unwilling to finish a girl off. Spencer however, had proven he was consistently capable of that from you two previous interactions. He was also right, the place you had chosen was going to be flooded with people soon as they left the party. It was around this time that a group of people got bored and left which you didn’t understand. Why would they pay the money if they were just going to leave early?

You maneuvered your hands underneath the fringed edge of your dress, then bypassing your panties by pushing them to the side. There was no need to tease yourself, sucking off Spencer had you soaking through your flimsy lace panties. You pushed two of your fingers inside your entrance, curling them to deliciously hit at that sweet spot inside you. Even though you were enjoying the way he fucked your face in combination with you touching yourself, your fingers didn’t feel as euphoric as Spencer’s long fingers that could pull an orgasm out of you in seconds.

Spencer was nearing his release, his hips stuttering as it came closer. More tears prickled at the corner of your eyes out of frustration that you were having trouble reaching the edge with your own fingers. Spencer of course saw your frustration and began to coax you to the edge,

“Come on Shelley I know you can do it, I know you can make yourself cum for me.” Spencer’s words weren’t nearly as good as your fingers, but it did help that final push towards the edge. Falling over the edge together was a heady feeling, pleasure sparking through your veins while Spencer filled your mouth. You focused on swallowing it all down as best as you could, only a bit escaping the sides of your mouth.

When it was all said and done Spencer tucked himself back into his boxers, then rebuckling the belt holding his slacks up. He then outstretched a hand towards you, who was crumpled on the floor looking absolutely ruined. It was a simple gesture, taking his hand so you didn’t wobble on your heels as much. To you however it seemed like a weighted moment, subtly showing that you were willing to take whatever he may give to you.

He then suddenly pushed a book in your hands, which came seemingly out of thin air, only soon after you had cleaned up the corners of your mouth by licking your lips. You had been just about to clean the remnants of your makeup that was streaming down your cheeks with a makeup wipe that had been in your purse. He had other plans, putting the book in your hands and grabbed the wipe from you. He began to use the wipe to clean you off, caressing your cheeks softly this time. His movements were gentle as the cleanser in the cloth, every gentle touch that came directly after the hard made you want to fall into the dark abyss with him. You had almost moved forward to kiss him until he unintentionally stopped you by starting to wipe your smeared lipstick off. Once he was done with that you then looked down at the book he had forced you to take.

“What is this?” Your brows furrowed in question at the unexpected gift. Your relationship had a loose definition, really none at all, to get a gift felt like it was supposed to mean something. He had gifted you something in the past, the nickname you now couldn’t seem to shake, and you supposed the multiple orgasms could be classified as gifts to some.

This felt bigger than that, at least to you. But, how were you supposed to know what his train of thought was when you didn’t know anything about him. Most of what you did know contradicted each other anyway. There was no way to predict a man who had two distinct sides of him, neither of which he’d divulge more than surface level information about.

“I thought it was quite obvious, it’s a book.” His nonchalant response through you for a loop, causing you to stammer a bit. However, he did not let you form a complete thought, steamrolling you with sudden excitement, “An old copy of Frankenstein to be exact, Shelley.”

Looking down you traced your fingers over the spine on the vintage book. You weren’t sure how old the book was, you’d have to check that later. It wasn’t that you didn’t see the potential value in owning an old edition of a book, but the gesture still confused you. Instead of dwelling on a question that you weren’t going to get a straight answer for if you asked, you tried to tease him, “But I have already read it, you know that.”

He took your jab at his listening skills in stride and again was cagey as always with his response, “I do know that, that isn’t why I bought it for you.”

“Why?”

“That is for me to know, and for you to potentially figure out.” He was now moving to leave the corner, about to leave you hanging in the wind scrambling to figure out whatever he was talking about. You scrambled to follow, which caused you to almost crash into him when he abruptly stopped. “I’ll give you a hint, flip to page 56.”

Flipping it open to the page you noticed that it wasn’t a page of any significance, no famous quotes were highlighted or major climactic scenes happening.

“There isn’t anything in here.” Exasperation was evident in your voice, he was too hard to read, certainly not as hard as the book in front of you. His intentions were the hardest to figure out, he could be stringing you along in his web, bringing you closer until he devoured you like a spider with a fly.

The air itself was filled with monsters, more like potential monsters lurking waiting to reveal their intentions. The dark was often desirable, but it would be naive of you to trust it without question. There was still something about Spencer that made you want to blindly trust without question that his monsters had beauty in them. You couldn’t deny that being devoured by him sounded enticing.

“Look again.” And with a fleeting kiss on your lips that he was gone, slipping back into the party like nothing had happened. It left you to wait until he graced you with his presence next with no way to contact him. At least that’s what you thought until you followed his suggestion and looked again.

There, nestled in between two pages of the book rested a strip of paper. The handwriting on it was messy, slanted heavily in one direction and partially smudged as if written rapidly. You could still make out the ten digits written in navy blue ink, your breath caught up in your throat at that.

At the bottom there was a simple dash then right next to it read his name, Spencer. With no titles or anything else written.

The simplicity of his name written sloppy in pen ink made you want to clutch it to your heart in disbelief. The book already was too much, to big a gesture for what was supposed to just be fucking in the library while saying clever things. You wondered if he had thought this through, thinking that by the state of how it was written it was done impulsively without thought. Though you hoped that was just how he always wrote, it would be another small slice of information of who he truly was.

In reality who knows what he was thinking, a mask was still firmly over his face in front of you. It may have had cracks that gave you glimpses at the man underneath, but it would be a lie to say you even knew the slightest bit about him beyond his name. There were some dots you could connect that may lead to somewhere or nowhere. You didn’t even know what his job was, so you weren’t going to pretend that you could properly analyze his handwriting. He could even be lying about every piece of information given thus far, only using it to pull you in quicker by the spider’s silk he was potentially spinning.

All that was still locked up there in his mind, not unlike when Jekyll locked himself up in his laboratory. You only hoped this phone number signaled that he may be willing to open up his mind to you, even with the serum that could turn him into something dark. He could shut you out, insisting that what he had done was a mistake, then sealing the cracks in his mask closed. But, you were too curious for your own good, you wanted to shatter the mask, to pull away the shroud of mystery, to tell you about the monsters lurking. All you had to do was call him, and maybe he’d let the monsters free.

Part One, Part Two

Ask Me Anything

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[archiesoniconline]

QnA: Zone Cop Briefing

Zally: Hello there everyone.  I’m Zally, Head of Communications for the Zone Cops.  Joining me today is our top officer Zonic...

Zonic: Hi there! Zally: And his protege, Zails. Zails: Uh, hello.  That’s a lot of people w-we’re talking too. Zally: The staff at Archie Sonic Online have received a lot of questions about Zones, Zone Travel, Time Travel, and several covering some combinations of these topics.  And so, they have asked us to give this briefing, to hopefully explain some of the basics about Zones and Time Travel, and with luck we’ll answer your questions as we do so. Just before we begin however, it’s important to say that, while what we will say today is the case for… hmm…. At least 9 out of 10 situations, there are several exceptions.  Zonic: Not to mention Nega and that Genesis Wave messing everything up… Zally: Ahem!  Going into all of them would take far too much time, so we’ll just say for now that ‘exceptions to these rules do exist’ and start the briefing. To begin, most Zones fall into two distinct types.  There are the True Zones, such as say the Prime Zone and the Sol Zone, complete universes in themselves.  Then there are the Pocket Zones, which have limited internal dimensions, can often be found within a True Zone, and can also be disrupted by tremendous emissions of energy.  The Special Zone, formally the Zone of Silence, was one such Zone, as was the Pocket Zone destroyed when Super Sonic and Hyper Knuckles from the Prime Zone fought. There are multiple ways that Pocket Zones can be created, natural and artificial.  But for True Zones, they are only created when a Triggering Event occurs in the Prime Zone.  Other Zones cannot split to form new Zones.  It might help to think of the Multiverse almost like a tree, with the Prime Zone as the trunk, and other Zones the branches growing from it. Triggering Events have a few requirements.  There has to be a number of likely possible outcomes.  And the different outcomes must have fundamentally different effects on the future of the Prime Zone.  For example, Prime Sonic choosing how many chilli-dogs to eat might have several different likely outcomes, but none would result in any fundamental change, so it would not be a Triggering Event.  In the opposite way, Prime Robotnik debating whether to use the Robotizer certainly had a massive effect on the events in the Prime Zone, but the chances of him choosing to not use the device were so slim, no new Zone was created. A Triggering Event need not be a single decision made by one person.  It could be several smaller decisions made by a group of people that nevertheless results in a different outcome.  It could even be the results of a natural occurrence.  When life was reforming after the Gene Bomb in the Prime Zone, there were so many different directions it could take, that this is where the vast majority of Zones were created.  Numerous Zones were also created when the Prime Zone first formed, some with wildly different laws of physics. When a new Zone is created, it is completely duplicated.  The entire timeline is copied, not just from the Triggering Event.  Though on that subject, the passage of time can be different between Zones.  Time runs faster in some Zones compared to the Prime Zone, such as the Zone Robo-Robotnik hailed from.  In some, it runs slower, such as in the Twilight Cage.  And in others, it can run at the same rate as the Prime Zone, but the point where the Prime Zone and the other Zone meets are at different points in their timelines. That covers the creation of Zones.  So moving onto Zone Cop operations, I’ll turn to Zonic. Zonic: Thanks Zal… uh, Zally.  As I’m sure most of you are aware, the Zone Cops monitor activity within the different Zones, as well as travel between the different Zones.  Different units of Cops have different roles, from general monitoring, to patrolling the Cosmic Interstate, to protecting against threats to the Multiverse.  For me, my job means I’m called in when direct action is required in another Zone. This is… a difficult job.  You could well ask why don’t we help out whenever something bad happens in the other Zone.  Truth is, that could cause a horrible imbalance, and lead to more disastrous consequences further down the line.  It’s not easy sitting on the sidelines, but sometimes we have to. But then, there are times we do need to act to make sure a greater threat doesn’t rise.  You’re likely aware of some of those times, as that’s when I’ve brought in Prime Sonic.  Why him?  Well, the Prime Zone is only a step away from all the other Zones, even wildly different ones like the Sol Zone.  And Prime Sonic is, in all honesty, one of the most capable Sonic’s in the multiverse, so I know it’s in good hands.  We could send in a squad of Zone Cops instead, but one Sonic can do, with very little disruption, what it would take several squads to accomplish. This has all gotten a lot harder recently, with Eggman Naga swarming over the Multiverse causing massive disruption, and the recent damage inflicted to Zone Jails. Alright, there’s a bit more to cover, but that’s for the end.  Right now, I’m gonna turn to Zails.  He’s still training to be a Zone Cop, but as one of his training projects, he’s done a Case Study on Silver the Hedgehog, so he’s here to talk about time travel.  Take it away Zails. Zails: Uh… Alright *deep breath* You can do this Zails.  Silver the Hedgehog is a time travelling Hedgehog… That’s redundant, isn’t it?  Uh… so… Silver has travelled through time, but there have also been incidents where he’s interacted with different Zones aside from the Prime Zone, known as Light Mobius and Dark Mobius. So, er, Time Travel and Zone Travel do share many similar principles.  Travelling between Zones is easy, as No-Zone and the Cosmic Highway connect all Zones.  Even travel that doesn’t use the Cosmic Interstate, such as Star Posts, tend to make use of that connection.  Time Travel is much harder, though it is easier to travel forwards, going with the flow of time, than backwards, working against it. This means it’s very easy, if you don’t know what you’re doing, to accidently move between Zones when Time Travelling.  Er… *checks notes* Jani-ca from Dark Mobius did this, accidentally travelling to the Prime Zone when she went back in time.  It’s easier to do when you are going back before the Triggering Event that created your Zone. And so, if you know how to Time Travel, it is much easier to travel to other Zones. Which leads us, uh, to the next question.  ‘Does time travel create new Zones?’  The answer is ‘it depends’.  Keep in mind, looking at Silver, given the chance it was unlikely he wouldn’t go back in time.  And when he found out about Mecha-Sally, also unlikely that he wouldn’t stop her.  So his actions changed the future, without creating a new Zone. On the other hand, King Sonic of Light Mobius.  Once, it was the future of the Prime Zone.  But when he went back in time, his actions created such wild changes, that Light Mobius became its own Zone, and the future of the Prime Zone was shifted away from it. Which then leads to a bigger question.  *takes a breath, checks notes*  ‘If you change the future, doesn’t that create a paradox where you wouldn’t have gone back to change the future?’  Okay, when someone goes back in time, they become part of the past, as if they always existed there.  So when they return to the future, they’ll still remember their old life, even if their actions have created massive changes.  We think.  This is partially theoretical, based on observing Silver.  There is one last question: ‘Why are some things from Light Mobius seen in Silver’s future?’  This is because of the way Light Mobius was created.  There is still a connection between Light Mobius and the Prime Zone.  Sometimes, things leak through.  Maybe just objects, but at some point, even Tikchaos, or part of her, was able to slip into the Prime Zone. *looks over notes* Uh… that’s everything from me, so, er, back to Zonic. Zonic: Thanks Zails, you did great. *gives thumbs up*  Our last topic is on Zone Numbering and Naming.  There are countless Zones, and each is given an ‘official numbering’, based on the date and exact time of its creation.  These numbers, as you might expect, are VERY long.  So instead, we usually refer to the ‘Case File’ Numbers.  These numbers, after the first 100, are based on when we start to take an interest in that Zone.  The first 100, well, we were trying to rate the Zone’s by importance.  We really messed that up! *chuckles*  For naming a Zone, that honour is given to the team who first open a Case File on a Zone.  *communicator beeps* Oh, that’s right!  Just one other thing to note.  We've heard rumours of another 'Sonic Prime'.  We don't know any details yet, but we're investigating.

Okay, I think that is everything.  Zally? Zally: Yes, we’ve just about covered everything.  I hope we’ve managed to answer most of your questions.  But before we leave, we’ve had numerous requests for knowing the name and designation of a number of Zones.  So we’ll leave those with you. Thank you so much for listening.  Now, here’s the list:

#001 – The Prime Zone – This is the zone where all others originate from, where Sonic and the heroes of Mobius fight against the tyranny of Dr. Eggman.

#017 – The Stealth Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius where the superhero Stealth the Hedgehog fights villains such as Professor Egg.

#059 - The Serene Zone - This Zone features a Mobius where Julian Kintobor never managed to gain control after the Great War, and the Kingdom of Acorn stood strong.

#100 – The No Zone – Our Zone, from here the Zone Cops organization strives to maintain order across the multiverse.

#109 – The Legal Zone – This zone features a Mobius with a city called Litigopolis where law and order are the way of the world.

#196 – The Freedom Zone – This zone features a planet Freedom which is divided into two realms – the Land of the Sky and the Land of Darkness.

#199 – The Underground Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius where Prince Sonic and his siblings, Manic and Sonia, seek to find their mother, Queen Aleena, and become the Council of Four to overthrow the dictator Dr. Robotnik.

#220 – The Lightning Zone – This zone features a planet Earth where Sonic has traveled and been adopted by a police officer named Tom and stops the plans of the overzealous scientist Dr. Robotnik.

#372 – The Anti Zone – This zone is a mirror reflection of the Prime Zone, where our heroes are bad and their villains are good.

#403 – The Earth X Zone – This zone features a planet Earth with a city called Station Square. It is the home of Chris Thorndyke and his friends and has been protected by Sonic the Hedgehog.

#492 – The Image Zone – This zone features a planet Earth that is protected by heroes such as Spawn, Savage Dragon, and The Maxx.

#496 – The Dark Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius nearly purged of life from a corrupted Knuckles the Echidna who became Enerjak.

#589 – The Discovery Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius resembling a gritty film noir.

#593 – The Boomer Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius where Sonic and the Freedom Fighters; Johnny Lightfoot, Porker Lewis, Tails, and Amy, face various foes including the evil Dr. Robotnik.

#623 – The Real Zone – This zone features a planet Earth where Sonic the Hedgehog is a video game character.

#905 – The Mobius X Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius where Sonic and his friends call home. Sonic and his friends have been transported off this planet into the X Earth Zone.

#1054 – The Kaiju Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius where Dr. J Kintobor uses a super sized mecha, Giant Robotno, to fight enlarged mutants.

#1072 – The Sentai Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius where Sonicman and the Chaos Ninja Team fight the villainous Sallactor.

#1084 – The Cyborg Zone – This zone is home to a planet Mobius that has been left a ruined wasteland thanks to it’s Dr. Robotnik. This is the zone from which Dr. Eggman hails.

#1100 – Maginary Zone – This zone is where the dreams of all other zones are born from. It is entered via the Precioustone and is guarded by the powerful Illumina.

#1103 – The Light Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius very similar to our heroes’ world. King Sonic and Queen Sally rule the Kingdom of Acorn in this zone.

#1105 – The Sol Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius where Blaze the Cat guards the Jewelled Sceptre and the Sol Emeralds.

#1114 – The Boom Zone – This zone features a planet Mobius where Sonic and his friends live on Bygone Island and deal with regular shenanigans from Dr. Eggman.

#1241 – The Archie Zone – This zone features a planet Earth with a town called Riverdale. It is the home of Archie Andrews, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, and Josie and the Pussycats amongst others.

#1291 – The Luna Zone – This zone features a Mobius that is protected by the pretty guardian Sally Moon and her crush Tuxedo Knux.

#4235 – The Galaxy Zone – This zone is the home of the Freedom Fighters of the Galaxy, a group that patrols their universe facing cosmic threats such as Robolactus.

[lumilasi]

Finished her pretty quick, I just got an idea surprisingly fast. Also this confirms Ryuu has a type: Redhead, intelligent, wears lot of black and red lmao. Also her pose is a bit wonky, but eh. it shows her outfit well enough.

....This reminds me, I should rewrite Reidou’s bio somewhat, I don’t quite like her BG story yet. 

Anyway, further info below:

Age: 27 (she was 20 when she met Ryuu)

Sexuality: Bi

Ezuko’s QUIRK EXPLAINED

BASICS (Pros in normal, cons in bold)

Quirk name: Living ink

Ezuko is able to create ink-like substance into any surface she touches, basically allowing her to create tattoos and art pieces without needing tools. She just needs to imagine what she wants the picture look like, or have a reference to look at. She can also turn liquids into this inky substance.

Ezuko tends to need more time and proper focus if she wants to create larger and more intricate designs. For her to create these images or change a liquid into ink, she does need to be touching the object/liquid.

TATTOOING/ILLUSTRATING

She can easily create tattoos for people with her ability that is pretty much pain free, or graffiti or even basically change the color and design of an entire building, piece of clothing, etc.

The image she’s made, she can shift and change and make move however she wants, even after a long time. She can use these moving images to even temporarily blind people by making the image shift around their eyes.

The process in some cases take even longer than doing the same tattoo traditionally would take, at least if the image is complex and large, and she doesn’t have proper references for it.

For her to be able to make the pictures move, she usually requires having been touching the object/person minimum of five seconds.

Her quirk ultimately is not meant for combat, and she can’t really use her drawings in a fight, only disorient them to either flee or find a chance to use her liquid shifting ability.

LIQUID SHIFT

Ezuko’s ability to change liquids into ink can allow her (accidentally or on purpose) to turn a person’s blood into ink and basically poison them to death near instantly. 

She can neutralize liquid based attacks as well by turning them to her ink, which will automatically start to listen to her commands.

She is immune to most acids and poisons (non-digested ones) because she automatically turns these things into ink when they touch her. It’s not her quirk being passive however, but rather a survival reaction she has developed. 

In order to do this, she needs to be able to touch the liquid she wants to change, which means in a case of a fight, she needs to either make the person bleed (or get them to spit or whatever, she prefers the blood as its “easier.”)

PERSONALITY SUMMARY

Ezuko tends to be fairly blunt, no nonsense type of person. She’s mostly pretty calm and level headed even in tight situations, but when her temper flares it can be pretty bad. She’s gonna let you hear where you screwed up exactly, in other words. 

Ezuko tends to not like people with “strong” quirks by default, because the whole obsession over quirks let to her family disowning her for not having a “good enough” power and wanting to do something else than be a hero or have some other profilic career. She can change her mind about you (like she did with Ryuu) once she gets to know you better, and sees you’re not putting all your value as a person on your power. 

She’s quite intelligent and enjoys reading and learning about a lot of different things, partly because it helps her imagination run wilder and thus makes it faster to create her images. 

BACKGROUND STORY (A quick summary, details may develop)

Ezuko was born to parents who were all about status, and quite disappointed to find out her quirk wasn’t suitable for heroism. They then tried to push her for something else that could rise their wealth and standing in society. Ezuko herself didn’t want to do this, dealing with a lot of arguments and abusive language from them, up until she moved out at age 18, heading to study arts. After that her family basically disowned her, refusing to even answer her calls. Ezuko quit trying to reach them, figuring she’d be better off without.

Then, when she was doing an apprenticeship in a tattoo parlor, she ended up having to deal with an abusive customer one evening, where he started harassing her. In a panic, she ended up discovering another, unfortunate side-effect of her quirk, where during the struggle she managed to make the guy bleed, and then swiftly turned his blood into ink, killing him near instantly. Some local residents came to see the commotion, and instead of asking her side of the story just automatically began to call her a murderer as the customer was a regular, forcing her to flee the scene. 

The local press and everybody around there started to exaggerate her temper and further paint her in a bad light, forcing Ezuko to flee the place altogether. She tried to reach for her parents for help, but they refused to help her, believing the media that she’d done it on purpose.

Sometime during her runaway spree she ran into Ryuu, who’d only recently gained lot of notoriety, though the girl was unaware of this. He helped her in a fight against some thugs, and she brings the injured Ryuu into her hideout to fix his injuries. They stick together for a bit, and Ryuu even brings her to a person he knows that generally tends to help out with people like her - a broker named Giran. Giran let’s her work in his bar, also making sure that everybody knew not to bother her as that’d be a bad idea. He even helps her to get a place to stay in eventually. Sometime during these years, she hears rumors about “Frostbite” having potentially died, which makes her a little sad initially, though Giran cheers her up be stating that there was probably more to the story than that.

Some years after that, she finds out about Ryuu being alive through Giran, as he sends her to bring something to “an old acquaintance” as the man put it. This said acquaintance turned out to be Ryuu.

Few more extra details;

- She’s the only person out of the people around Kain who actually understands his more scientific talk. They can end up having long conversations about a subject that none of the others have a clue of.

- Her name translates to “Paint” (Pandoru that she pronounces as pandora) and “illustration lake.” (Ezuko)

- The world she lives in is based on my fic Reanimate, which basically means there’s no league of villains, as Tenko never became “Shigaraki.” Giran is the only important member (outside of afo) that is still a criminal in this AU. Because of Kain’s dimension hopping ability, this doesn’t mean she doesn’t get to interact with the more villainous versions of the gang, though. 

- Ezuko made Ryuu’s dragon tattoo as a thank you for helping her.

- Her surname is bit of a pun, as it’s written as “Pandoru” aka paint, but after leaving home and her parents behind, she began saying it as “Pandora” referring to Pandora’s box as a bit of a darker joke about her choosing to go against her parents and thus unleashing a lot of bad things into her life. This proved to be even more accurate after the parlor incident. 

- Her parents wanted her to either find a way to become a hero with her quirk, or go into some other highly respected profession for status and money, when Ezuko just wanted to do something artistic.

- Ryuu actually didn’t start crushing on her until after they met again years later after their first meeting, when he and Kain returned from another eventful dimension hopping trip to visit their little sanctuary corner and friends, Wasabi and his mums. Up until then he’d seen her just as a friend/acquaintance

- Wasabi digs her a lot because they have similar hairstyles.

- The vine tattoo represents her quirk and spreads around her arms and shoulders more when using her quirk. When using it in extreme amounts (Like turning a large body of liquid into ink for example) her skin around those parts gets so covered it looks like she just has one large pitch black tattoo covering those areas, and you can no longer see the vine details. 

Also, the ref sheet base was made by yourultraarchive as usual

[merakiui]

There's an AFTERL!FE blog now! I'm so happy. All of your posts are so good and I love how you write. Would it be possible to get another story about Theo and Nine's rivalry? The way you write them is just so fun and enjoyable to read.

(Thank you so much! I’m very happy that you like my posts. (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* You may definitely have another story of their rivalry! I had a blast writing it. This can be considered a sequel to Cake, but it can be read as a standalone as well.)

Nerium Oleander (Theo and Nine)

Stalkers are poison ivy. Their victims are innocent trees, who breathe life and fortune into the one who watches them like a hawk. Twining around their limbs like rope and heavy iron and keeping them pinned for all their worth—it’s a display of parasitic infatuation. Love, like any other emotion felt in full, is awfully draining. Day and night, allowing that person to consume your thoughts. Thinking and wondering if they appreciate you just as much as you value them. Wishing that they would notice everything you’ve done for them on the sidelines. Loathing anyone who threatens that nonexistent relationship.

As fate would have it, there are unlucky instances in which love is one-sided.

Theo simply can’t bear the thought of that, so he becomes oleander—a flower blooming in beautiful death. One hint of its aroma can send you to an early grave. Every inch of the inviting flower is bathed in poison, and yet it’s still so gorgeous. Why is it that the ugliest personalities have the prettiest shells? It’s frustrating to know that he has competition. In a setting with nineteen other Reapers, Theo’s got a lot on his plate. Like ivy and oleander, it’s the exterior that fools. A sharp, monstrous idea can be wonderful as long as it’s hidden within layers of honeyed promises. Like a cake that’s stacked with plenty of delicious flavors.

He doesn’t want to waste his time on endeavors that won’t bear any fruit, but befriending every Reaper will have its benefits. He’s already made a list of those who pose the highest threat to his precious manager. Nine is at the very top, his name circled in black pen. As much as he dislikes the polite and oh-so-gracious Reaper, he has to pretend as if the two of them are friendly coworkers. As if he doesn’t wish for Nine to transfer to another Department or to cease existing. But immortality is funny like that. You’re either stuck with the best people in the world or the fiends of your worst nightmares. Theo wonders if this is his punishment. Spending an eternity with Nine is far more hellish than Quincy and his status as a devil.

Which is why he holds so much hatred for those who hurt his manager, specifically the ones who simply don’t know when to quit.

The blue-eyed oleander witnesses it in the early hours of the morning during a particularly unfavorable mission. A vengeful spirit had the gall to hurt his manager, and they had even more of a spine to talk to them as if they were a worthless weed. In his garden of noxious plants, Theo sees the disgusting hemlock attempting to snuff out the beauty that is his beloved rose. His expression switches in an instant, a light flickering behind those expansive eyes. There are so many emotions he feels in that moment, but fear is dominant as it grabs his heart and squeezes. The spirit could kill them. It’s about to kill them, and he’s flipping through his spell book with rapturous intent.

And then Nine is at their side, shielding them from the spirit’s attack. Before him, the specter vents in anger, spewing meaningless insults. Theo feels as though he’s just been kicked in the stomach. Why is it so hard to get to you? he thinks, gripping the leather book. His chest aches as he sees the manager cling to Nine. Why can’t I be the one who saves you for once? Why can’t you just rely on me? Nine is better equipped to deal with the situation as he listens, attempting to reason with the vengeful spirit. Its crocodile tears don’t faze Theo in the slightest. He should be the one crying because he was too late. One spell and his manager would’ve been rescued from the claws of such a beastly spirit. And yet Nine was faster with his reaction time.

Theo makes a mental note of the way Nine purifies the vengeful spirit once it’s calmed down. He’s always gentle when he talks to them, using his relaxing aura to coax them into tranquility. Theo would’ve preferred to crush it beneath his unmerciful heel, but the problem has been solved. There’s no use fretting over it now. Though it will definitely keep him awake tonight.

“Manager!” He jogs over to them, dropping down to inspect their wounds. “Take this to stop the bleeding. I’ll help you.” Unfastening his cape, he passes it to the manager, who holds it against the bloody laceration while he searches for a proper healing spell.

“Thank you, Theo,” (Name) says, wincing at the stinging sensation. “That spirit really put up a fight. Thanks for coming to my aid, Nine.”

“No need to thank me, Manager. I’m relieved you’ll be okay. Mr. Theo will have you healed in no time.”

Theo grits his teeth before facing Nine. He wants this unworthy hemlock out of his special garden. “Could you gather the others? Let them know that we’re finished over here.”

“Very well. Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

“No.” It comes out way too stern, and Theo’s quick to correct himself. “No thank you. We’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t spare Nine another glance as he departs, focusing on the manager’s pained expression with sympathy. They’re in his arms now, grasping at him for salvation. The situation couldn’t be anymore perfect.

“That was crazy, wasn’t it?” they ask, making light of the previous events. “My heart is still racing!”

“I...was so worried, Manager.”

They let out a wheezing chuckle. “Thank goodness Nine was there. If it weren’t for him, I could’ve gotten killed. It’s scary to think about.”

“Yeah. Terrifying,” he echoes while casting the healing spell on them. Surely there’s a curse that brings misfortune. Theo wants to do everything he can to master every negative incantation there is. Just for future reference. There are so many possibilities when it comes to his rivals. He’ll have a field day debating which is the most effective. “You’ve got to be more careful. If you ever find yourself in trouble, just come to me. I’ll always be here to help you.”

They smile, sitting up on their own accord and feeling for any wounds that might’ve escaped the cleansing powers of Theo’s magic. Every cut is sealed and every bruise is gone, leaving the manager with a feeling of rejuvenation. At once, they recognize the plush fabric of Theo’s cape and gasp, noticing just how much blood has stained the white cloth.

“I’m sorry for making such a mess. I’ll wash this as soon as we get back.”

Theo eyes the color with disdain. How utterly cliché. It’s almost sickening. Red on white is too bold—too deep of an implication. Red is a color that means many things, two of that being passion and love. A third is the color of blood. And white is meant to symbolize purity. Theo knows he’ll have to work hard so that the manager’s purity doesn’t bleed out onto the sterile white of this corrupt world. There’s no way he’ll ever let that happen. When he stares at his cape, drenched in splotchy crimson, he sees more than just a soiled piece of fabric. He sees the darkest imprint of (Name). But blood is still messy, even if it is his beloved’s.  

Theo wonders which cleaning agent is best for erasing blood. His thoughts spiral deeper and deeper into a rabbit hole of wickedness. Mortality is fragile, and cake and blood are no different. Both are victims of inescapable chance. On the other hand, immortality is a curse that binds him to the one he’d rather be far away from. Speak of the hemlock, who has completed the command with diligence. Nine approaches with the others in tow, all of whom crowd the manager like insects. Theo wishes to spend a moment longer with them. Just a few more minutes. There’s so much I want to tell you. He’s bound to this silver-lined rivalry, a prisoner of obsession. And Nine has no idea.

He supposes that’s how poison works. It doesn’t take long until it spreads within its victim, who is unaware as it shuts down vital organs and flatlines their functions. If Theo has to cut the strings that tie him to Nine and anyone else who dares get in the way of him and the manager, he’ll do whatever it takes. Like poison, it’s small and deadly. Poison might not kill an immortal Soul Reaper, but that has nothing to do with their mentality. Cake might be the same when it comes to ingredients and presentation, but it’s the baker who’s most important. A cracked baker is easy to exploit. He’s even easier to tear apart when he’s alone and basking in his own corrosive thoughts.

The oleander festers at the manager’s side, a quiet flower waiting for an opportunity to infect everyone with debilitating poison.

------

Nine has begun to notice a pattern. It’s tiny at first—like a minor inconsistency that isn’t worth the trouble. But then it becomes a prominent itch that looms in the back of his mind like a shadow. Since that mission, Theo’s been hanging around the manager as if he expects another near-death experience to happen, which shouldn’t be much of a worry. Although (Name)’s mortality is concerning, Nine knows the Reapers in the 14th Department would never let any fatal harm befall their precious manager. So why is there a strange feeling that overwhelms him whenever he spots Theo trailing after them, holding files or a bento he made specifically for them? Anyone with half of a brain would assume he’s playing favorites, attempting to get on the manager’s good side so that the punishment for skipping out on work is lighter. Though Theo doesn’t seem like the type to slack off, which is why Nine is sinking in a state of perplexion.

What is he trying to achieve? Realistically, what is there to gain other than (Name)’s approval? They like each and every one of the Reapers, so it’s not like anyone’s on their bad side. He has an eternity to figure it out, though Nine can’t exactly be bothered. If it isn’t hurting anyone, why should he fret over Theo’s behavior? It’s not as though he’s acting out of line. Rather, he’s been quite pleasant. He even offered to assist Nine in moving a few boxes. Nine doesn’t want to hold any suspicions about his colleague, nor does he want paranoia gnawing on his ankles like a puppy.

Without realizing it, he’s been aimlessly walking through the campus as he pieces together fragmented thoughts. His eyes land on the manager, who is alone as they stride towards him. For once, Theo isn’t at their beck and call. Nine thinks of Day and his unwavering loyalty. Perhaps Theo is just as enthused about (Name) as Day is with him. Nine shrugs those comparisons away, opting to focus on his manager.

“Hi, Nine! What’re you doing out here?”

“Taking a small stroll,” he answers. “The weather is perfect for this, and it’s always beneficial to get some exercise.”

“I agree. To be honest, I wanted to clear my head for a bit. I’ve got so much work that it’s beginning to stress me out.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Manager. Would you like any help?”

“I don’t want to bother you.” They wave their hand through the air as if the distress isn’t clear enough. It’s obvious they’ve been pulling all-nighters just to get through paperwork and other tasks. “Would you mind if we walked together?”

Nine considers their offer for a moment. While he would prefer a few more moments to himself, he can’t deny someone as caring as (Name). It’s almost a crime to turn them down, and he has no idea where all of this fondness is suddenly coming from. Regardless, there’s a sneaking sensation that touches his sixth sense. Since when did the flowers have eyes? The wind rustles through the greenery, creating an eerie sound that settles in the courtyard. He’s compelled to retrace his steps and turn down the corridor, but your patient expression chases that idea away.

“I don’t mind.” He falls into step with you, calmly observing the deliberate clicking of your shoes. “Take care not to overwork yourself. The 14th Department depends on your leadership.”

At least a few Reapers are more than dependent, he thinks.

“I’ll be fine as long as I can finish everything on time. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Make sure you’re getting enough rest and eating your meals—“

“I know,” they say, drawing out the syllables. “I appreciate your concern, Nine. It means a lot.”

He nods, a simple gesture that confirms his gratitude. His manager is always thanking and praising the others. Briefly, he wonders if they’ve ever taken time to care for their own well-being rather than the well-beings of the Soul Reapers.

“When all of this is over, I’d love to spend more time with you,” (Name) goes on, a bounce in their step. Nine doesn’t miss the excitement that flashes through their features at the prospect of getting to bond with him. He’d rather be alone, but Nine has found it to be a challenge whenever they’re involved. “Do you think you could teach me to play an instrument? I’ve been meaning to pick something up, but I never seem to have time.”

Well, Nine happens to be skilled with his hands. And hands are required to play most—if not all—instruments. Perhaps you’d like to learn the violin, or maybe you’re interested in the drums. He’ll have to learn as he goes with those, but it’s worth it if it means (Name) will be happy. How odd. Where did all of this compassion come from? Nine knows what instrument they’ll say, as the two of them have sat in the storage room and played it on plenty of occasions. The atmosphere doesn’t change, but the flowers certainly do. As if wanting to blot out a horrid memory, the eyes close and a mouth creases into a tight line. Nothing short of disappointment.

“I was thinking I could be good at the piano if I tried hard enough. What do you think? We can play together, and we can even form a band.”

A band consisting of two people is hardly a band. Handcuffs can only restrict one person. A pair of unseeing eyes are useless, and Nine knows his words must be chosen carefully lest his tongue sit on a rusted tray.

He puts on a thin smile. “Learning an instrument can be just as stressful as work. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize your health.”

“I’ll be fine, but you do make a good point. It might be overwhelming if I try to balance that and missions. One of these days I’ll try to learn.”

Just not now.

And he couldn’t be any more relieved.

------

Nine finds himself in the common room later that evening, reflecting over the events of the day when he encounters the blooming oleander. He’s preoccupied with the book in his hands, which is a collection of stories written by the famous Edgar Allan Poe. He never intended to pick up something so macabre. It happened to be the first thing he grabbed while perusing the shelves. Perhaps he should’ve looked for a poetry book instead. Before he can get up and complete that task, Theo enters his visage, the corners of his lips upturned. It fails to reach his eyes.

“Good evening, Nine. I didn’t expect to find you here. This is a wonderful surprise nonetheless.” He says a greeting that’s reminiscent of Nine’s, which has been tailored ingeniously. Recycled words are only worthwhile if they’re put to positive use, and Theo bleeds venom. He has no reason to speak to Nine. In fact, he’d rather avoid him at all costs, but that won’t work if he intends to poison his fragile mind with every bit of sly kindness he can muster. Theo has learned to be resourceful. A talented baker knows how to improvise, after all. “Oh, I recognize that cover. It’s an anthology of Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories. Which one are you reading?”

Nine glances at the page, picking out notable phrases. He’s at the part where the old man is smothered by his own bedsheets. “‘The Tell-Tale Heart.’”

“That’s grim, isn’t it? Well, all of his stories are, but that one in particular is really morbid.” Theo sits beside him on the sofa, keeping a gap between him and the weed that is Nine. “Wouldn’t it be scary if you woke up to someone trying to kill you? I know I’d be alarmed. But we’ve already experienced death, so maybe it’s not frightening anymore.”

He tries to understand the motive behind Theo’s incessant chatter. The two of them have never really clicked. Small talk isn’t something they can fall into so easily. Nine wants to ask Theo many things, but it’s wrong to suspect someone without any evidence. So he merely nods as he listens to Theo, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave. It’s not as if Nine doesn’t want to talk; he’s just not accustomed to this facet of the Day Reaper. Lo and behold, the question slips out before he can stop himself.

“What would you do?”

“Excuse me?”

“If you were one of the investigators, what would be your reaction to the man?”

“Oh,” Theo states, pursing his lips as if the inquiry requires deep thought. “We know that the narrator is unreliable. He only wants to kill the old man because of his eyes. He gets paranoid when he hears the man’s heartbeat coming from the floorboards, even after he dismembered his body. I’m sure anyone, investigator or not, would think he’s insane.”

“Do you think that?”

Theo bristles at the question, a sour taste coating his tongue. Why is he suddenly being interrogated by Nine? This isn’t an interview, and it certainly isn’t a questionnaire for a criminal. He laughs to cover up the crack in his mask. “Of course I do. No one of sound mind would murder someone defenseless all because of the way their eyes looked. Just saying it out loud like this is madness.”

Nine nods again. Insanity cannot exist without sanity. A heart cannot function without a beat. A parasite cannot live without a host. He’s not sure where this conversation is going. This is far from a cheery book club meeting. Nine searches every inch of his expression, noting the occasional twitch of his mouth and the constriction of his pupils. Yet he can’t detect an ounce of a practiced lie. Could it be that his instincts are misplaced? Is this what Theo has wanted all along: A moment to talk to Nine as friends rather than coworkers? Perhaps he has been incorrect in his judgement.

The book shuts; Nine doesn’t want to read anymore. There’s an unfinished composition waiting for him in his dorm room. Standing up from the couch, he lowers his head in the form of a farewell. He sets the novel on the coffee table so that Theo can indulge in the fictional world of Poe.

“I’m afraid something has come up, so I’ll be leaving now. Please enjoy the remainder of your evening, Mr. Theo.”

“I will.” Theo beams. “Sleep well.”

Nine doesn’t waste a second turning his back on Theo, exiting the common room with graceful movements. As soon as he’s out of sight, the happy grin melts away and is replaced with that of a dark scowl. He’s not a mindless fool. It was obvious that Nine was uncomfortable. He’s just too polite to say anything, and that’s a weakness Theo’s willing to dissect.

So you were reading Poe, hm? he muses to himself, picking up the book and turning it over in his hands. I took you for a poetry guy. How chilling, Nine. Manager wouldn’t like these grotesque tales.

Who is he to determine what they like and dislike? Theo’s watched (Name) for quite some time now, committing their quirky habits to memory. It’s almost comical how they never seem to notice. Nine does, but he’s always been keen, and yet he can never understand the meaning behind his constant staring. That’ll happen when you spend your days alone, keeping yourself entertained with the voice inside your head. Theo wonders if Nine gets lonely with that depressing lifestyle. The two of them are like night and day. Theo’s bright and blinding like the sun. Nine is quiet and calm like the moon. But there isn’t any oxygen on the moon, and the sun can steal a person’s eyesight without feeling any remorse. Two Reapers of complete opposites, rising and setting all the same. A weed and a flower masquerading in a game of cat and mouse.

Oleander grows to towering heights. A stalker’s presence looms as tall as the very flower Theo embodies. He doesn’t care if he’s a leech or a misleading flower. Anything’s better than hemlock and the imposter cake Nine’s baking. Theo’s the baker and the pianist, not Nine. It will never be Nine. He’ll make sure of that. At his very core, Nine is a jawbreaker of many emotions and memories. Theo will fracture every layer until nothing’s left. Until the ground is a mess of colors and stories that unfold before the entire 14th Department. He’ll dig into Nine’s mind with a knife and fork to pull apart stringy recollections of his past life. It’s guaranteed to be a dessert far tastier than a slice of cake.

Poison ivy is easy to identify. As the saying goes, ‘leaves of three, let it be.’ Theo isn’t as obvious as a sickening rash. That’s the difference between ivy and oleander. One kills and the other spreads with red irritation. While he could sit and wallow in bitter annoyance, he’d rather get to memorizing every hateful hex in his spell book. Maybe he can trick Ell into making him a felt doll of Nine. Oh, the thrill of voodoo. Theo’s never performed such dark magic before, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. He’d like to see Nine lose his mind for a change, because eternity knows Theo’s lost his.

The manager deserves only the prettiest of flowers, and oleander has such a gripping, virulent embrace.

[curechocolattymilk]

I am in a sorta rambling Skyrim mood again so if you want lists of my mods i have/want to keep for Skyrim Extended Cut’s release/want to get for a fresh save under S:EC uhh here you go??

MOD LIST IN GENERAL/AS A WHOLE (might be a long one)

Immersive Citizens - AI Overhaul

USSEP

Alternate Start

Cutting Room Floor

The Paarthurnax Dilemma

Khajiit Speak (disabled atm, only on for a Khajiit character I plan on remaking)

Wet & Cold SE

Static Mesh Improvement Mod (SMIM)

BarenziahQuestMarkers SSE

Immersive Patrols SE

Apocalypse

Ordinator

Horns Are Forever SE

Wildcat

Inigo

DigitigradeKhajiit_ArgonianRaptor

Falskaar (disabled & prob gonna be uninstalled. Wasn’t satisfied w the mod so i went back to a save before installing it that wasn’t too far back)

Run For Your Lives

Enhanced Lights & FX

True Storms SE (+Compatibility patch for W&C)

Civil War Aftermath

Hearthfire Multiple Adoptions & Custom Home Support SE

Derkeethus Dual

New Beginnings- AS Extension

No More Stupid Dog

D13 Faster Get Up SSE

Amazing Follower Tweaks SE

DWC Player Werewolf Replacer

Diverse Werewolves Collection

Dominions More Argonians

Immersive Good Boy

Skyrim Sewers

Convenient Horses

Fast Travel Ambushes & Consequences

Interesting NPCS/3DNPC (& with it, Cyb’s Overhaul) SE  Patches/Hotfixes

BAT- Bigger Argonian Tails SE

BS: Bruma SE (and patches)

Vigilant SE + Voiced English Addon SE

Cinematic Dragon Soul Absorption (disabled)

Shout - Immersive & Dynamic Overhaul

SkyUI SE + Flashing Savegames Fix

Destructible Display Cases

Dragon Stalking Fix

TK Dodge SE

Immersive Movement

Hun Lovaas & the mod authors other music replacer mods

Hoth

More Tavern Idles

Ultimate Combat SE

Library of Paarthurnax SSE

Dawnguard as vampire (didn’t want to lose part of my sould for the DG quest lol, turned right back into a werewolf)

Real Bosses (Light File)

Immersive World Encounters SE

Better Jumping SE

Kaidan 2

Race Menu

Miraak DB Follower + Dialogue Plus

Monster race crash fix (for the Play as a Dragon mod)

Lucien Flavius

Racial Body Morphs SE - Diverse body types & height

CWN - Civil War Neutrality SSE

Alt Conversation Camera

Guard Dialogue Overhaul SE

Deadly Dragons

Werewolf Feral Run

Bigger Tails for Werewolves

Predators - Werewolf & Vampire role playing tool (Lite version currently disable)

3DNPC Talkative Followers

Masque of Argonian Vile SSE

Talkative Dragons + Enigma Series

My Little Hatchling SSE + Adoptable Argonian Hatchling

Play As a Dragon

Growl - Werebeasts of Skyrim (I definitely recommend this for werewolf playthroughs! It doesn’t have Moonlight Tales’ features but its still balanced/fun & barely buggy in my experience)

Death is Highly Overrated redone 2020

SKSE64

MODS IM FOR SURE KEEPING/MAYBE KEEPING

To keep the bulletpoint list hopefully short: Patch/QoL mods that fix vanilla issues (i.e. USSEP, D13, SMIM, the like), follower mods (save for Miraak since S:EC seems to have something planned for him), mods done to tweak the Werewolf experience, combat & boss difficulty mods, Mods that overhaul NPCs dialogue/AI (guards, citizens in general), weather mods, music mods, & mods that make Argonians & Khajiit look a bit more fun are for sure staying! Any civil war mods I have might be trimmed off, debating on how S:EC approaches reworking the secondary story quest. That being said:

BarenziahQM - For the sole fact it makes that quest soo much better

Paarthunax Dilemma - a solid maybe? S:EC is also gonna do something bout this part of the Blades quest if I read their reddit post correctly, so I might just leave it disabled & see what happens first

Hearthfire Multiple Adoptions - yes pls let me make Tei a papa to every Skyrim also I need it to make Kaidan’s home available for the kiddos

Derkeethus - makes him a more decent follower but eeeh idk i rarely take him out often so it might be snipped itsa maybe

Destructible Display Cases- sometimes i’m too lazy to lockpick

No more Stupid Dog/Immersive Good Boy- Meeko is a good boy I should be able to tell him & also my kids + housecarls shouldn’t call him stupid >:(

More Argonians- I just like these funky reptiles (used to have More Khajiits too but it always would CTD at a certain inn w it installed. F)

Alternate Start- Makes things more spicy

CH- Sorta QoL for the skyrim horses, for sure staying

FTA&C- Again, makes things more spicy, but in the event of some group jumping you while traveling

Vigilant- Maybe?? It’s fun as hell but not really in character for Jeer-Tei. Perhaps re-enabled later as an end game thing alongside BS: Atmora whenever that comes out?

Shout- makes cooldowns more bearable so itsa keep

DSF- also a QoL mod

Immersive Movement + More Tavern Idles + Better Jumping + Immersive Encounters

AFT- big traveling groups are always fun/it makes it easier to horde keep all of Skyrim’s dogs

Race Menu + Racial BM SE- falls under “makes Argonians more fun” like some other argonian focused mods I guess? RBM plays around w everyones height and RM just lets you go buck wild (in a sfw way! unless...yknow you got nsf/w mods i guess) doesn’t hurt to specify tho lol

Alternate Convo Camera- Really fun!! Despite it pointing out how short my LDB is

Deadly Dragons- Makes fighting the Dovah much more fun w all the (honestly not as canon) diversity in looks & abilities! Can recommend, not too harsh on older devices either from what I know

Death is Highly Overrated

Play as a Dragon + Monster Race Fix- another hard maybe because well...you turn into a dragon which isn’t too immersive I guess?? Probably another “end game” mod for Tei

MODS IM EYEING/WANT TO GET (this post is so long so far I’m sorry)

Survival Mods!! (iNeed is one I’m looking at & maaaybe Frostfall?? idk i’ll have to see about that one i heard its not too fun for the Argonian gang) P much looking for something that’ll make exploring the wilds of Skyrim less of a bore

Camping + Hunting based mods! I’ve been eyeing Campfire & Hunterborn specifically, but open to any other suggestions. Same reasoning as survival mods, makes it more fun to travel! Plus, I’m going for an in character experience, it would fit Tei!

Khash & Auri follower mods. I’ve been eyeing these two for a bit, but from my experience w adding Kaidan & Lucien late game, I miss a lot of fun stuff D: So I’m planning on nabbing them for a fresh playthrough under S:EC (or at least, Khash! I uh...don’t know how to download mods manually/always mess it up & Auri doesn’t have the option to let Vortex do all the work unfortunately, but we’ll see!)

Maybe some nice armor mods?? Again nothing too heavy to handle but just to add some flavor(tm)

Saw a mod that made Animal AI a bit more realistic, might nab that

long shot but a mod that lets everyone refer to your LDB via they/them pronouns would be cool too but idk feel like it’d be a nightmare to attempt modder wise. Honestly i’d love the idea of having a mod or two that’ll let me confirm that Tei is trans themselves in game (3DNPC has a quest where you can say your character is, but that’s about it to my knowledge)! Buuut I’m unsure to search for any cause: 1) I don’t want to deal w transphobes ruining my searches & my day on Nexus & 2) Any curious google/bing searches keep bringing up Lovers lab & mmmm no thank you.

and uh...so far that’s the base of it? idk im still looking around & I might have to add/drop some things depending on like...how much my current computer can handle, Not grabbing any fancy graphics mods, that’s for sure lol

[rocknrollsalad-moved]

“Halloween costume party meeting a blind date but oh it's my high school squeeze who broke my heart and is only back in town to shut down the candy factory”

Thanks to a lovely conversation with @moongoddess2k4 we are now blessed with this amazing, amazing prompt, if you will, for a Halloween Hallmark story if they did them like the Christmas ones. 

Read on to see how I ran with that idea and created a quick little something for the season. It was super fun to write and I wish I could have done a whole thing with it but there’s too much on my plate right now. 

Word Count: 3400 Triggers: some mentions of drinking/being drunk, loss of jobs, and implied future money struggles

Halloween wasn’t going to be the same this year. Decorations still adorn most doors, yards, and windows. Costumes seemed to disappear from shelves along with bags of candy. The traditions carried on as neighbors helped neighbors, a silent thing to keep a town that was built around Halloween in the spirit.

Hanging over the head of every resident, a joint burden, was the knowledge that this was the last Halloween for them. Stark Sweets and Treats would be closing its doors on November first. In those storm clouds not chased away by the sun was the reality that many of the people living here would be out of a job. Generations of candy makers, sorters, and wrappers now left on their own, without a severance package, one last bonus, or even a thank you card.

There was no future in candy anymore. Processed sugars were falling out of fashion and while no child wanted a box of raisins or an apple, parents wanted to hand out sustainably grown, sugar-free alternatives. Buzzwords, Bruce knew as much as people online spouted recycled rhetoric about saving the planet with their shift to these different treats. He’d argue with each post. Typing his nights away about the jobs they were taking, about the fallacy of that sustainable or organic sticker. GMOs weren’t what people were saying they were.

But no one listened.

What did a small-town high school science teacher know about genetically modified anythings? Never mind the multiple doctorates he held. Never mind the qualifications he had to speak on the subject. People couldn’t be reasoned with on the internet. Bruce was shouting into the void and doing nothing more than boiling his own blood.

It was mad worse by everyone pointing out he didn’t have a horse in this race. Not directly. There would still be children to teach. Year after year of the same projects and battling against boring lesson plans. He wasn’t losing anything. Instead, he’d be left to watch. Left to stand in front of his classroom trying to teach kids who carried the same weight as the adults, without the ability to bear such a thing. That’s who he fought for. These children didn’t need to know this level of hardship while trying to navigate their way to adulthood.

Most of their parents, their baby sitters, and classmates were putting on a brave face, though. Halloween kept this town afloat and while it was their last, they weren’t going to roll over and let it pass. Every annual event went just like they had for decades. Some people had done so well at pretending they weren’t waiting for the hammer to drop that they were actually having fun. And for it a moment that normalcy and false happiness rubbed off on the cranky science teacher who was never one for holidays of any sort. Even in a town built around Halloween.

As an outsider, Bruce wasn’t born with the Halloween spirit. It was gifted to him, though, year after year. Townsfolk who took pity on his pathetic attempts at decorating. Neighbors who baked treats and desserts left on his doorstep. Coworkers who brainstormed costume ideas and dragged him to parties. Each year that passed it got easier and easier for everyone to twist Bruce’s arm until they didn’t have to.

For the past few years, he’d been leaving cookies for his neighbors. A little charred on the bottom, decorated simply, but not a single house complained. The change must have emboldened some of his coworkers though as they recruited him for a night of costumed speed dating. It was the last time the town was doing something like this. They laid the guilt on thick. 

Bruce was among four other staffers who weren’t married, even one of the teachers who was dating someone went to witness it all. Many emails were exchanged for days leading up to the event. Who would wear what, despite Bruce’s numerous protests that knowing that would ruin the event. How they’d get there and which bar they were meeting at to discuss all the details. A never-ending stream of planning by people who should have been teaching their classes but everyone coasted around the holidays. 

The night would be simple enough. Bruce would go dressed in a ruined bed sheet, make sure that no one was interested in him, skip the gossipy drinks, and then two nights later at the big Halloween bash everyone would get to see their matches without obstruction.

In reality, this was a smart idea. Everyone was given a fair chance. Not to be judged on the superficial, with the exception of those few distasteful costumes that tried to sneak in, but on their personality. Answers to questions, conversational skills, it was what dates should be founded on. Not that Bruce thought he’d find a date here, no matter how ideal it was. Tagging along, instead, because his social circle was going. Because participating and being a part of the events was better than hearing about them the next day.

So he sat through a grueling two hours of three-minute dates. Listening to people both mock him for not trying and appreciating his classic callback sheet-ghost costume. Having insufferable conversations with people who didn’t understand how to listen or have the spotlight off of them. The worst was the number of Scream villains that were there, leaving a few to accessorize just to stand out. Which should have made Bruce’s costumes one of the better ones, at least he was unique. 

There was a particularly sweet Jason Voorhees that Bruce could have stood to have another three minutes with and that was far more than he’d expected to happen. He gave her favorable marks but, again, didn’t expect them to be returned.

In the last fifteen minutes, though, when Bruce was eyeing the door and thinking there was no way the last five people were going to be better than anyone before them, a werewolf sat down at the table. Promptly explaining that he wasn’t any werewolf but the Teen Wolf, hence the basketball shorts. Teen wolves were apparently very crucial to the basketball team. It was a reference Bruce didn’t get and the man seemed used to hearing that, if not still a little dejected. Running through the basic questions got them to Bruce’s job, to his doctorates, his expertise, and somehow to an argument about the merits of various alternative energy forms. A solid two minutes was spent citing facts and studies, managing to get heated enough that the host had wandered over to stand by their table.

What the host didn’t know was it was the most exciting conversation Bruce had had all night. An unnecessary argument that neither needed but both wanted. They were both right and though he couldn’t explain how, he knew they both understood the pointlessness of their argument. Both sides were right but the conversation was well informed, the Teen Wolf didn’t back down, and if Bruce thought he wanted to talk to Jason for three more minutes, he could have fought with this werewolf for three hours.

The few dates that followed were a blur, Bruce wasn’t sure he even spoke to the one. More than once he caught the werewolf looking back at his table. Whether the spirit of Halloween was watching over the town or it was fate, Bruce left the event with an unexpected feeling of success and far too many thoughts in his head. The one thing he didn’t count on had happened. He found a match.

He’d gone home, as he’d planned, but his coworkers brought the gossip to him the next morning. Waiting in his classroom with coffee. Everyone gushed (quietly as there was more than one hangover in the room) about the people they spoke with and Bruce made sure to wait until just before the first bell to say he found a werewolf who caught his interest.

Never before had his computer chimed with so many alerts. He had to mute it in order to teach but he was distracted and the kids weren’t any better. They dissolved various Halloween candy staples, carved pumpkins because someone donated their overflow and no other teacher wanted to deal with the mess, and Bruce kept the day easy. Everyone’s mind was on the party quickly approaching. And for the first time since moving here, Bruce found himself wishing it would come just a little faster. Not just so it’d be done and life could go back to normal until Christmas break.

For those few days, it seemed like no one talked about the factory closing. It wasn’t who was out of a job anymore but who was driving the tractor for the hayrides. Collectively a town decided to ignore their impending doom and had Bruce not been so wrapped up in it himself it would have been an interesting study.

Though underneath the excitement were murmurings that a Stark was in town. No one knew what for. Some hoped for the best, that’d they had seen things clearly and were going to announce that the factory would remain open. Others didn’t even try to mask their threats. The rest used logic, the town hall meeting on the first day of November was likely going to be led by Tony Stark as he thanked the community for their years of loyal service, offered nothing, and made himself feel good before going back to one of his many mansions to never think about them again. Comments that passed as quickly as they came, replaced by where to find a recipe or if the grocery store had taken eggs off the shelf yet.

Eventually all the gossiping and planning came to it’s natural conclusion. Halloween arrived and without sight or word from Stark. Bruce thought he must have some sense if he’s staying out of the way. Yet another thing to add to their list of Halloween blessings. Had Stark not been doing what he was, Bruce would have given him a bit of credit for allowing the festivities to carry on without him.

For most of the day’s events, Bruce stayed at home. He graded papers, watched a few shows, and kept things on an even keel. Not because he didn’t want to go out, he had no reason to since he didn’t have any children. He stayed home for his sanity. Crowds were never his thing and because he’d decided last night to attend the big dance in hopes of a speed date match, Bruce needed all the energy he could store. Though it did afford him far too much time to think about what it would feel like to learn no one wanted the reveal.

Staying home until he couldn’t handle the busy work anymore, Bruce made his way to the center of town. Talking to kids he currently taught, kids he’d taught in the past who were carrying children of their own, and running into a couple of people from work all helped to wrap the event in a warm feeling of welcome. The brisk air mixed with the food and blew around leaves, creating something nothing short of picturesque. As he took it all in, Bruce’s heart broke with the knowledge that the town would never feel like this again.

He bought popcorn balls from some grade school kids, drank what felt like a gallon of apple cider, and stocked up on candies for the rest of the fall. Bruce found a greater sense of peace and calm out among the crowd than he did at home but slowly families started to make their way home. Children were left with babysitters, teenagers went off to their parties deep in the woods that they thought no one knew about, and left the adults to their barn dance.

The nerves Bruce had been trying to avoid found their way to him as he wrote his name on a sticker, drew a little ghost and pressed it over the pocket of his flannel shirt. When the matches were posted right at center stage, Bruce held back. Maybe if everyone else paired up he wouldn’t even need to see. Except he needed to know. Before he could force his legs to carry him up to his fate someone stood in front of him.

“You? You were under that sheet?” the man asked

“I was. You were, uh? I don’t see your name tag.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think it went with my outfit.”

“Who says stuff like that?”

“I don’t know, me I guess.”

“I feel like I know you,” Bruce said, squinting in hopes it would help him figure it out.

The man stood there, watching Bruce with a single arched eyebrow, holding his breath in waiting. It took a minute, far too long if you asked either of them, but Bruce’s eyes went wide.

“Tony? Tony Carbonell? No! It can’t be. What are you doing here?”

“Business,” Tony said. Not exactly lying.

“God, I haven’t seen you since high school.”

“Science High. Home of the best or something like that.”

“Only if you applied yourself,” Bruce laughed at his own joke and it didn’t feel like it was his voice. He’d not laughed like that since...high school.

Repressed feelings came flooding back. The memory of how badly he wanted to talk to Tony when they were fifteen. They were from two different worlds but in constant competition for the top of their class. Bruce would have let Tony win if it meant they got to talk though. He hadn’t pinned for anyone as much or as hard since. Now he was standing face to face, talking to him like they were long-lost friends.

If that realization wasn’t enough, Tony decided to pile on when he said “If I’d have known it was a classmate under that sheet, I’m not sure I would have marked you down as my match.”

Bruce almost dropped his drink. “What?”

“Yeah, you were the only interesting conversation the entire night. I was just bummed we didn’t have another minute. We could have got ourselves kicked out.”

“Wh-” before Bruce could finish repeating himself he sucked in a hefty breath. “The werewolf?”

“Teen Wolf. I told you, man. C’mon, I thought you were smart enough to hold a thought for a day.”

“It’s been two and a half.”

“That’s still not that long.”

Scanning the room, Bruce desperately tried to find a familiar face. Anyone to help out with this situation. He was in over his head and had forgotten why this was a good idea. He wanted to bolt for the door. Not even the door, if he could break through the nearest wall and just run home it’d be preferred.

None of that happened. He was left to stand there with his first crush and talk about flirting with each other. In the course of the conversation, Bruce had fully regressed to his teenage self. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know where to put his arms. Why didn’t he have something stronger than cider to drink? Of which he needed another gallon because his throat had never been this dry.

“Who was your pick?” Tony asked.

“Huh?”

“Who did you write down on the form? Who’d you wanna meet?”

“Um, you. The Teen Wolf.”

“Really?”

Bruce nodded to the stage, nearly clear now as everyone had found out whether or not a match had been made, silently telling Tony to go check if he didn’t believe him. Which Tony did. Walking away without a word. As soon as his back was turned, Bruce doubled over, hands on his knees, and breathing like he’d finished a marathon. Now was his chance to run. Yet, again, his feet didn’t want to move. Glued to the spot, waiting for Tony to come back and confirm what Bruce knew to be true. After all these years they’d finally matched.

Before he could coordinate his mind and body, make a swift but likely clumsy exit, Bruce stood up to find himself staring at one of his coworkers. She thought she’d put down a guy she had great chemistry with but they didn’t match and she was distraught. Not that she knew which of the men in the room were the one she was looking for so they were all suspect. Each of them awful in a randomly assigned way.

She’d made the assumption that Bruce hadn’t made a love connection either given he was standing alone and Bruce could have used this as an out. Escort her to the bar, drowning her sorrows, and lay low. Yet those words didn’t come out. Instead, he explained the situation. That he was waiting on confirmation from the tall, dark, and handsome man walking towards them. They had both written down each other’s disguise. Though he did leave out the part that they’d gone to high school together.

Tony came in just in time, nipping the protests and cries of how unfair it was that bordered on insulting. A charming grin that Bruce did not remember him having in school. In fact, Tony had little in common with his high school version. Whereas Bruce wanted desperately to grow another foot, Tony had. He looked like he worked out. Not in a lab, like Bruce, but a gym like people were supposed to. Everything was immaculate, his hair, clothes, smile, all of it. A far cry from just another one of the nerds. If Bruce didn’t know better, Tony almost looked like the kind of person to shove nerds in lockers.

But that couldn’t be true. Tony extended a hand towards Bruce. The slow music, a room full of people swaying back and forth as they excitedly talked about the speed dating and its outcome, Bruce knew what that meant. He’d watched enough movies. Trying to hide wiping his hand on his shirt before putting it in Tony’s, he accepted the dance. Gliding through this dream. So many other places boasted the magic of Christmas but in this moment, it didn’t hold a evergreen scented candle to Halloween.

The last time Bruce had danced with anyone, he’d been a child playing pretend with family. And yet it came easy, his hand in Tony’s, their arms around each other, and just enough distance to talk as they moved around. Like everyone around them, they talked endlessly. The conversation came easy, as unusual as that was for Bruce.

Somewhere between memories brought up by the songs the DJ played, what they’d done since high school, and watching as the dance floor emptied, the sun had gone down. Replacing that warm autumn light with string after string of lights above their head. The perfect glow as the smell of popcorn and funnel cakes had burnt off and bonfires had taken over.

“So what brings you here?” Bruce finally asked. The question had been sitting behind everything else they’d discussed. “It’s pretty far from where we met and I know my path here but you...you don’t live here, I’d have seen you before.”

“I don’t, I live in New York. Would you buy that I came for the spirit of Halloween?”

“Plausible. It is why most visitors come but you strike me as more of an Amityville Horror Halloween than caramel apples and corn mazes.”

“You’re not wrong,” Tony laughed. “Have you been there?”

“No, and you’re changing the subject.”

“And you’re too smart to fall for it. What if I told you no one has called me Carbonell in so long I almost forgot it was me?”

Bruce stopped the lazy circle they were shuffling in. “What do you mean?”

“It’s my mom’s maiden name. I went by it in school because my dad’s last name is, uh, recognizable and I didn’t want to be recognized. I mean, I still don’t want to be recognized as his but I’ve got his company, I’m trying to make it better. Make the name better.”

Facts were connecting for Bruce and he didn’t like where they were going. The data made sense but he needed to hear it. “What’s your last name then.”

Around them, the world seemed to stop and slowly fade away. Without the music, Bruce had come to a complete stop, staring at Tony and daring him to give the answer they both knew he would. The answer that would ruin Halloween.

“Stark.”

[itsmedianuh]

Week #11 Blog Post due 11/04/20:

What influence does the mainstream media play in how black victims of police brutality are depicted?

“Days following the deaths of Garner and Brown, news reports of the incidents characterized Brown as a thug, gang member, and lawbreaker. Garner was characterized as a repeat offender with news reports discussing his criminal history. News reports also made reference to the height and body size of both Brown and Garner, using fear-mongering labels such as ‘giant’ and ‘huge’ to make Brown and Garner seem superhuman, dangerous, and therefore needing to be tamed.” (Lee, 2017). Mainstream media takes an innocent black individual and draws them out as the enemy, the one to blame, dangerous and “needing to be tamed”, finding the smallest of details from their lives and amplifying it through a negative lens to justify the use of force and police brutality. Cops are put in place to deescalate situations. Even if an individual is found guilty, cops do not play the role of executioner, jury or judge. Mainstream media forgets that when it comes to black lives. They find any reason or image to justify the cops’ abuse of power towards the black community and paint the individual as a ‘thug’, threat, danger, and criminal. Mainstream media enables cops and the law to further feed into this idea that it’s okay to kill black people if cops feel threatened. Mainstream media enables our society to be okay with this behavior from cops who are meant to protect us— not create fear in communities and kill innocent lives through the use of force and illegal tactics. Mainstream media adds gasoline to the fire that already exists in the tension between cops and black communities.

What is ‘Black Twitter’ and ‘blacktags’ as described in the reading, “Black Twitter: A Response to Bias in Mainstream Media”?

The term ‘Black Twitter’ refers to the black community present on Twitter. Blacktags refers to: “Building on this concept, this article is interested in the textual poaching that occurs in social media, specifically black Twitter, for purposes of challenging and resisting dominant degrading narratives placed on black and brown bodies through mainstream news coverage...She argues that black Twitter’s power comes from its participatory democratic nature—the idea that users, through the creation of ironic, yet cutting-edge hashtags, create a space to address social issues of racial bias and discrimination. Indeed, this forum allows for textual poaching as resistance, where the user produces content that challenges dominant (oppressive) cultural ideologies and norms, including racial bias” (Lee, 2017). This is an act of demanding justice where justice is lacking or not present. This is an effective response through the use of hashtags to inform and expose the injustices that the black community is constantly facing socially, economically, politically, educationally, culturally, and overall any possible aspect. Through blacktags, Black Twitter draws out the oppression and racism that still exists against them and their entire community. This is a smart and strategic way in utilizing social media platforms to create conversation where progress and fixing is very much needed. Through the use of twitter, information and voices are amplified and spread at a significant speed, making action follow faster than it normally would.

How can one be an active ally to people of color, particularly the black community?

“Ross shared his own story of ‘criming while white’ to mark the racialized double-standard of our criminal justice system, and encouraged other white folks to share their stories...this hashtag, which was named one of the most trending hashtags for 2014, demonstrated an unequal justice system and a racial double standard…[An example provided being:] When I was 20, I stole a pack of cigs, cop prayed with me and made me promise I wouldn’t do it again. #CrimingWhileWhite..” (Lee, 2017). People get uncomfortable when it's time to talk about racism and white privilege, but the time to talk about it is now, even when we don’t know how to get started. Getting the conversation going is the first step to creating a voice, community, and action in fighting for true justice for all. One can not say they are not racist and stay silent about the issues that black communities are currently facing. It is especially our responsibility to dismantle the structure and systems we currently have in place that strive off the oppression of the black community. The incarceration of the black community is a huge example of modern day slavery, the acts of inhumanity and violence towards them is an example of racism, hate, white supremacy and oppression that is still very much alive in our country and all over the world. To be an ally, we must use our privilege to speak and amplify what it is they are demanding, equality and humanization, equal opportunities, equity, and overall respect of their entire existence and identity, to acknowledge their suffering and to most importantly, listen. It is not our place to speak for them, but rather to share their stories, hear them out, and fight against injustices happening every single day.

What are some positive benefits that can be obtained through internet activism?

“Public awareness is achieved by accessing information that is relevant to the cause. Naturally there is often difficulty involved. Since the traditional information channels may well be controlled by those whose interest is counter to that of the activists, the Internet may serve as an alternative news and information source. The news and information are provided by individuals and independent organizations, largely focusing on events and issues not reported, underreported, or misreported in the mainstream mass media. The forms of obtaining information include visiting relevant Web sites or participating in different types of email distribution lists.” (Veghs, 2003). Through internet activism, as I stated earlier, information travels at a significant speed, making it faster and easier for information to travel across the world and form communities that share the same goal and values. This creates a sense of unity for some communities where it may be harder to find that overall safe space offline. The internet allows for many opportunities to arise with the use of forming and planning events such as protests, creating and participating in signing petitions, creating groups, sharing stories and overall posts with a message and purpose. Internet activism, if done right and being aware of falling into slacktivism, it can create widespread and rapid change if enough people are able to amplify the message, and with the internet, it is much faster and easier to bring this level of awareness to issues and problems that our country is currently facing— whether it be a hashtag, a headline, a post, or group messages. All of these are a few examples of the benefits that internet activism could provide for some communities in getting stuff done at a faster and widespread rate.

Fuchs, C. (2004). Social media and communication power. In social media: A critical introduction (pp. 69-94). London: Sage Publications Ltd. doi:10.4135/9781446270066.n4

Lee, L. (2017). Black Twitter: A Response to Bias in Mainstream Media. Social Sciences, 6(1), 26. doi:103390/socsci6010026

Vegh, S. (2003). Classifying Forms of Online Activism: The Case of Cyberprotests against the World Bank.

[fallout-lou-begas]

What inspired you to make a comic for Agnes? Wouldn't it have been easier just to write her story out? Not that I'm complaining at all, I love the comic and your art! I'm just curious how you decided on a comic

Oh!! Thank you anon, now THIS is an exciting question!!! This got pretty long so I’ll put it under the cut but I love going off about the craft and the art of comic-making and how it relates to storytelling so I’m reallky glad you asked:

I actually come from an essay and academic-writing background and earned my master’s degree for my thesis back in early June. After that, I got extremely invested in my art because I just...didn’t want to write anymore. I was working on and writing my thesis for over a year. I was simply extremely tired of the written word! What began as drawing for fun became something more dedicated and centralizing in my spare time (but still fun!) and then soon enough I wanted to channel all of this new passion into a project instead of idle doodles. I spent almost my entire childhood making comics of my own, and so making IKROAH a comic was a lot like returning to my creative roots for the first time in a genuine decade.

I also wanted to make IKROAH a comic because from the very beginning I had very little interest in simply recapping every event of FNV as it happens in-game; I was committed to this montage-like approach where every issue is its own vignette from the get-go. This is far easier, and feels far more natural, in comic form where visual information can be very dense and emotional as opposed to what would basically be microfiction if rendered in prose instead. The script for each issue is basically all just dialogue and no issue has ever been more than three-quarters or so of a page long yet. This idea of the density of visual information also ties into the ways in which I really try to “show, not tell” in IKROAH, eliding narration and often the explicit reference of notable character details in favor of evocative expressions, meaningful dialogue, and careful composition. Ask yourself, how much do you already feel like you know about Agnes just from reading IKROAH? How was that information conveyed, not only through the art and dialogue but through deeper details like character design, what characters carry with them, how they react to things, their reticence to say something, what they don’t say, and so on?

I also wanted to mention that comic books simply have medium-specific strengths that I’m extremely interested in, and that prose lacks. For example, you cannot have a moment of silence in prose. You cannot. You can say “it was silent,” but by narrating the silence you have broken it. Comics can have such beautiful pauses, and they can be tense or pregnant or pensive, and it gives you so much control over the way the story flows on the page. Comics can also overlap different stories or different scenes in a way that feels very organic and immediate, such as in IKROAH #3′s cutaways to Victor’s Shack, Agnes’ flashback to her childhood attack in IKROAH #7, and in the upcoming IKROAH #11 (stay tuned!) which has two completely different narratives going on simultaneously. Page and panel composition gives you so much power for structuring your story, and I do mean that very literally and in a way that feels very material. I could honestly talk about it for hours.

This isn’t to say that I think that comics are inherently better than writing, or that I’ll never write prose. I already wrote “Scar Tissue” as a companion to IKROAH #7, a short one-shot fic that goes into far more intimate detail about why exactly Agnes and Cass hit it off the way they do and the chain of events that led to that fateful encounter between Agnes and a Mr. Handy in the bomb shelter. The greatest strength of prose is its ability to let you make asides, prolong scenes, and generally have an infinite canvas with infinite dimensions for as many dialogues, ideas, scenes, and details as you want. With my creative writing background also being as rooted in horror as it is, a big difference I’m aware of is that prose gives me so much room for diving as deep into the sensory details of a scene as I can, something much harder to do in visual art.

And finally, would it have been easier and faster to just write a fanfic instead of drawing a fancomic? Hahahahahahaha yeah absofuckinglutely lmao, writing comes a lot quicker and more naturally to me than art, actually, and I’m the kind of person who can just pound out drafts as quick as I can think of them. Not to brag, but “Scar Tissue” took two days to write and publish from start to finish.

Ultimately, IKROAH exists as a comic because I just wanted it to be a comic, and I was interested in telling its story in a way that could only be done through the medium of a comic.

[recentanimenews]

ESSAY: Berserk's Journey of Acceptance Over 30 Years of Fandom

  My descent into anime fandom began in the '90s, and just as watching Neon Genesis Evangelion caused my first revelation that cartoons could be art, reading Berserk gave me the same realization about comics. The news of Kentaro Miura’s death, who passed on May 6, has been emotionally complicated for me, as it's the first time a celebrity's death has hit truly close to home. In addition to being the lynchpin for several important personal revelations, Berserk is one of the longest-lasting works I’ve followed and that I must suddenly bid farewell to after existing alongside it for two-thirds of my life.

  Berserk is a monolith not only for anime and manga, but also fantasy literature, video games, you name it. It might be one of the single most influential works of the ‘80s — on a level similar to Blade Runner — to a degree where it’s difficult to imagine what the world might look like without it, and the generations of creators the series inspired.

  Although not the first, Guts is the prototypical large sword anime boy: Final Fantasy VII's Cloud Strife, Siegfried/Nightmare from Soulcalibur, and Black Clover's Asta are all links in the same chain, with other series like Dark Souls and Claymore taking clear inspiration from Berserk. But even deeper than that, the three-character dynamic between Guts, Griffith, and Casca, the monster designs, the grotesque violence, Miura’s image of hell — all of them can be spotted in countless pieces of media across the globe.

  Despite this, it just doesn’t seem like people talk about it very much. For over 20 years, Berserk has stood among the critical pantheon for both anime and manga, but it doesn’t spur conversations in the same way as Neon Genesis Evangelion, Akira, or Dragon Ball Z still do today. Its graphic depictions certainly represent a barrier to entry much higher than even the aforementioned company. 

    Seeing the internet exude sympathy and fond reminiscing about Berserk was immensely validating and has been my single most therapeutic experience online. Moreso, it reminded me that the fans have always been there. And even looking into it, Berserk is the single best-selling property in the 35-year history of Dark Horse. My feeling is that Berserk just has something about it that reaches deep into you and gets stuck there.

  I recall introducing one of my housemates to Berserk a few years ago — a person with all the intelligence and personal drive to both work on cancer research at Stanford while pursuing his own MD and maintaining a level of physical fitness that was frankly unreasonable for the hours that he kept. He was NOT in any way analytical about the media he consumed, but watching him sitting on the floor turning all his considerable willpower and intellect toward delivering an off-the-cuff treatise on how Berserk had so deeply touched him was a sight in itself to behold. His thoughts on the series' portrayal of sex as fundamentally violent leading up to Guts and Casca’s first moment of intimacy in the Golden Age movies was one of the most beautiful sentiments I’d ever heard in reaction to a piece of fiction.

  I don’t think I’d ever heard him provide anything but a surface-level take on a piece of media before or since. He was a pretty forthright guy, but the way he just cut into himself and let his feelings pour out onto the floor left me awestruck. The process of reading Berserk can strike emotional chords within you that are tough to untangle. I’ve been writing analysis and experiential pieces related to anime and manga for almost ten years — and interacting with Berserk’s world for almost 30 years — and writing may just be yet another attempt for me to pull my own twisted-up feelings about it apart. 

  Berserk is one of the most deeply personal works I’ve ever read, both for myself and in my perception of Miura's works. The series' transformation in the past 30 years artistically and thematically is so singular it's difficult to find another work that comes close. The author of Hajime no Ippo, who was among the first to see Berserk as Miura presented him with some early drafts working as his assistant, claimed that the design for Guts and Puck had come from a mess of ideas Miura had been working on since his early school days.

  写真は三浦建太郎君が寄稿してくれた鷹村です。 今かなり感傷的になっています。 思い出話をさせて下さい。 僕が初めての週刊連載でスタッフが一人もいなくて困っていたら手伝いにきてくれました。 彼が18で僕が19です。 某大学の芸術学部の学生で講義明けにスケッチブックを片手に来てくれました。 pic.twitter.com/hT1JCWBTKu

— 森川ジョージ (@WANPOWANWAN) May 20, 2021

  Miura claimed two of his big influences were Go Nagai’s Violence Jack and Tetsuo Hara and Buronson’s Fist of the North Star. Miura wears these influences on his sleeve, discovering the early concepts that had percolated in his mind just felt right. The beginning of Berserk, despite its amazing visual power, feels like it sprang from a very juvenile concept: Guts is a hypermasculine lone traveler breaking his body against nightmarish creatures in his single-minded pursuit of revenge, rigidly independent and distrustful of others due to his dark past.

  Uncompromising, rugged, independent, a really big sword ... Guts is a romantic ideal of masculinity on a quest to personally serve justice against the one who wronged him. Almost nefarious in the manner in which his character checked these boxes, especially when it came to his grim stoicism, unblinkingly facing his struggle against literal cosmic forces. Never doubting himself, never trusting others, never weeping for what he had lost.

    Miura said he sketched out most of the backstory when the manga began publication, so I have to assume the larger strokes of the Golden Arc were pretty well figured out from the outset, but I’m less sure if he had fully realized where he wanted to take the story to where we are now. After the introductory mini-arcs of demon-slaying, Berserk encounters Griffith and the story draws us back to a massive flashback arc. We see the same Guts living as a lone mercenary who Griffith persuades to join the Band of the Hawk to help realize his ambitions of rising above the circumstances of his birth to join the nobility.

  We discover the horrific abuses of Guts’ adoptive father and eventually learn that Guts, Griffith, and Casca are all victims of sexual violence. The story develops into a sprawling semi-historical epic featuring politics and war, but the real narrative is in the growing companionship between Guts and the members of the band. Directionless and traumatized by his childhood, Guts slowly finds a purpose helping Griffith realize his dream and the courage to allow others to grow close to him. 

  Miura mentioned that many Band of the Hawk members were based on his early friend groups. Although he was always sparse with details about his personal life, he has spoken about how many of them referred to themselves as aspiring manga authors and how he felt an intense sense of competition, admitting that among them he may have been the only one seriously working toward that goal, desperately keeping ahead in his perceived race against them. It’s intriguing thinking about how much of this angst may have made it to the pages, as it's almost impossible not to imagine Miura put quite a bit of himself in Guts. 

  Perhaps this is why it feels so real and makes The Eclipse — the quintessential anime betrayal at the hands of Griffith — all the more heartbreaking. The raw violence and macabre imagery certainly helped. While Miura owed Hellraiser’s Cenobites much in the designs of the God Hand, his macabre portrayal of the Band of the Hawk’s eradication within the literal bowels of hell, the massive hand, the black sun, the Skull Knight, and even Miura’s page compositions have been endlessly referenced, copied, and outright plagiarized since.

    The events were tragic in any context and I have heard many deeply personal experiences others drew from The Eclipse sympathizing with Guts, Casca, or even Griffith’s spiral driven by his perceived rejection by Guts. Mine were most closely aligned with the tragedy of Guts having overcome such painful circumstances to not only reject his own self enforced solitude, but to fearlessly express his affection for his loved ones. 

  The Golden Age was a methodical destruction of Guts’ self-destructive methods of preservation ruined in a single selfish act by his most trusted friend, leaving him once again alone and afraid of growing close to those around him. It ripped the romance of Guts’ mission and eventually took the story down a course I never expected. Berserk wasn’t a story of revenge but one of recovery.

  Guess that’s enough beating around the bush, as I should talk about how this shift affected me personally. When I was young, when I began reading Berserk I found Guts’ unflagging stoicism to be really cool, not just aesthetically but in how I understood guys were supposed to be. I was slow to make friends during school and my rapidly gentrifying neighborhood had my friends' parents moving away faster than I could find new ones. At some point I think I became too afraid of putting myself out there anymore, risking rejection when even acceptance was so fleeting. It began to feel easier just to resign myself to solitude and pretend my circumstances were beyond my own power to correct.

  Unfortunately, I became the stereotypical kid who ate alone during lunch break. Under the invisible expectations demanding I not display weakness, my loneliness was compounded by shame for feeling loneliness. My only recourse was to reveal none of those feelings and pretend the whole thing didn't bother me at all. Needless to say my attempts to cope probably fooled no one and only made things even worse, but I really didn’t know of any better way to handle my situation. I felt bad, I felt even worse about feeling bad and had been provided with zero tools to cope, much less even admit that I had a problem at all.

  The arcs following the Golden Age completely changed my perspective. Guts had tragically, yet understandably, cut himself off from others to save himself from experiencing that trauma again and, in effect, denied himself any opportunity to allow himself to be happy again. As he began to meet other characters that attached themselves to him, between Rickert and Erica spending months waiting worried for his return, and even the slimmest hope to rescuing Casca began to seed itself into the story, I could only see Guts as a fool pursuing a grim and hopeless task rather than appreciating everything that he had managed to hold onto. 

  The same attributes that made Guts so compelling in the opening chapters were revealed as his true enemy. Griffith had committed an unforgivable act but Guts’ journey for revenge was one of self-inflicted pain and fear. The romanticism was gone.

  Farnese’s inclusion in the Conviction arc was a revelation. Among the many brilliant aspects of her character, I identified with her simply for how she acted as a stand-in for myself as the reader: Plagued by self-doubt and fear, desperate to maintain her own stoic and uncompromising image, and resentful of her place in the world. She sees Guts’ fearlessness in the face of cosmic horror and believes she might be able to learn his confidence.

    But in following Guts, Farnese instead finds a teacher in Casca. In taking care of her, Farnese develops a connection and is able to experience genuine sympathy that develops into a sense of responsibility. Caring for Casca allows Farnese to develop the courage she was lacking not out of reckless self-abandon but compassion.

  I can’t exactly credit Berserk with turning my life around, but I feel that it genuinely helped crystallize within me a sense of growing doubts about my maladjusted high school days. My growing awareness of Guts' undeniable role in his own suffering forced me to admit my own role in mine and created a determination to take action to fix it rather than pretending enough stoicism might actually result in some sort of solution.

  I visited the Berserk subreddit from time to time and always enjoyed the group's penchant for referring to all the members of the board as “fellow strugglers,” owing both to Skull Knight’s label for Guts and their own tongue-in-cheek humor at waiting through extended hiatuses. Only in retrospect did it feel truly fitting to me. Trying to avoid the pitfalls of Guts’ path is a constant struggle. Today I’m blessed with many good friends but still feel primal pangs of fear holding me back nearly every time I meet someone, the idea of telling others how much they mean to me or even sharing my thoughts and feelings about something I care about deeply as if each action will expose me to attack.

  It’s taken time to pull myself away from the behaviors that were so deeply ingrained and it’s a journey where I’m not sure the work will ever be truly done, but witnessing Guts’ own slow progress has been a constant source of reassurance. My sense of admiration for Miura’s epic tale of a man allowing himself to let go after suffering such devastating circumstances brought my own humble problems and their way out into focus.

    Over the years I, and many others, have been forced to come to terms with the fact that Berserk would likely never finish. The pattern of long, unexplained hiatuses and the solemn recognition that any of them could be the last is a familiar one. The double-edged sword of manga largely being works created by a single individual is that there is rarely anyone in a position to pick up the torch when the creator calls it quits. Takehiko Inoue’s Vagabond, Ai Yazawa’s Nana, and likely Yoshihiro Togashi’s Hunter X Hunter all frozen in indefinite hiatus, the publishers respectfully holding the door open should the creators ever decide to return, leaving it in a liminal space with no sense of conclusion for the fans except what we can make for ourselves.

  The reason for Miura’s hiatuses was unclear. Fans liked to joke that he would take long breaks to play The Idolmaster, but Miura was also infamous for taking “breaks” spent minutely illustrating panels to his exacting artistic standard, creating a tumultuous release schedule during the wars featuring thousands of tiny soldiers all dressed in period-appropriate armor. If his health was becoming an issue, it’s uncommon that news would be shared with fans for most authors, much less one as private as Miura.

  Even without delays, the story Miura was building just seemed to be getting too big. The scale continued to grow, his narrative ambition swelling even faster after 20 years of publication, the depth and breadth of his universe constantly expanding. The fan-dubbed “Millennium Falcon Arc” was massive, changing the landscape of Berserk from a low fantasy plagued by roaming demons to a high fantasy where godlike beings of sanity-defying size battled for control of the world. How could Guts even meet Griffith again? What might Casca want to do when her sanity returned? What are the origins of the Skull Knight? And would he do battle with the God Hand? There was too much left to happen and Miura’s art only grew more and more elaborate. It would take decades to resolve all this.

  But it didn’t need to. I imagine we’ll never get a precise picture of the final years of Miura’s life leading up to his tragic passing. In the final chapters he released, it felt as if he had directed the story to some conclusion. The unfinished Fantasia arc finds Guts and his newfound band finding a way to finally restore Casca’s sanity and — although there is still unmistakably a boundary separating them — both seem resolute in finding a way to mend their shared wounds together.

  One of the final chapters features Guts drinking around the campfire with the two other men of his group, Serpico and Roderick, as he entrusts the recovery of Casca to Schierke and Farnese. It's a scene that, in the original Band of the Hawk, would have found Guts brooding as his fellows engage in bluster. The tone of this conversation, however, is completely different. The three commiserate over how much has changed and the strength each has found in the companionship of the others. After everything that has happened, Guts declares that he is grateful. 

  The suicidal dedication to his quest for vengeance and dispassionate pragmatism that defined Guts in the earliest chapters is gone. Although they first appeared to be a source of strength as the Black Swordsman, he has learned that they rose from the fear of losing his friends again, from letting others close enough to harm him, and from having no other purpose without others. Whether or not Guts and Griffith were to ever meet again, Guts has rediscovered the strength to no longer carry his burdens alone. 

  All that has happened is all there will ever be. We too must be grateful.

      Peter Fobian is an Associate Manager of Social Video at Crunchyroll, writer for Anime Academy and Anime in America, and an editor at Anime Feminist. You can follow him on Twitter @PeterFobian.

By: Peter Fobian

[runefactorynonsense]

Do you have any tips for someone playing RF1 for the first time? Obv there's references like fogu and freyashawk's walkthrough but I was wondering from the standpoint of someone whose played it several times, what are the most helpful hints you can suggest, mostly in re: to the storyline (I'm not as concerned with rushing marriage at this point).

Hello, anon! <3

First of all, I’m glad you’ve seen the two resources you named! They are definitely some of my favorite refreshers and guides; I encourage anyone else playing the game for the first time to look them up :)

Storyline and gameplay wise... I’ve jotted down anything I can think of, and apologize if there’s anything you already know, but hopefully something here is new and helpful to you or someone else!

Your friendship level doesn’t decrease over time.

I mentioned this in a previous ask, but friendship levels don’t decrease in this game if you don’t talk to someone, or if you don’t give someone a gift. They only decrease if you give disliked gifts. So you don’t have to stress about making absolutely sure to talk to anyone and everyone every single day unless you want to. So there’s a lot of time that you can use for your own goals, instead of socialization!

Item hoard + Make your own weapons.

Probably my #1 tip in any Rune Factory game honestly. If you plan to forge your own weapons - and I encourage you to - it can make the final 3 caves a breeze. There are 8 caves, and by the time I make a weapon with materials from 6 (and sometimes 7), I usually don’t need to make anything else afterward.

Take time every so often, go to a certain cave, target a certain monster or set of rocks, and just collect as much as possible from them. (This also helps level grind your actual level or mining/fighting stats, so, win-win.)

This can easily overload your storage, small or large, so I might plan ahead with what you want. For instance, I abuse the line of Wind Magic based weapons, so I need a lot of wind crystals, aero elements, and bird feathers, which means I can sell a lot of the other elements’ items.

If you craft, keep a stock of silver. I may be an outlier, but I always find I run out of silver way too fucking fast. Gold, too. But not as badly as silver gets.

Buy crafting books.

These can be grabbed from Russell in the library, and they rotate, the same books for every individual weekday. Grabbing them all as soon as possible is so useful when trying to raise crafting stats. Some can get as expensive as 25k - 28k, but they’re a worthwhile one time purchase. These can teach you how to raise your tools beyond what Leo can do, which will get you through chores and raise your levels faster- on top of the weapons I already mentioned.

The magic books at the back shelf are also useful, get them, play with them, see which ones you like! (Medication and Cure are lifesavers.)

Have a WATER or NON-MAGIC based weapon ready for later plot events.

I don’t know how much you care about spoilers, especially if you’ve already looked up those other resources- but. When you get to Danaan Cave, be ready to fight with a weapon with no magic ability, or something that is water based. Trust me. It will save you a lot of headaches. (Don’t be like younger me and try to brute force your way with a wind weapon.)

No magic is also a good strategy to have for the final cave, Greed, as well- but anything of significant power, if you level grind, with you having good accessories, can be viable.

Level grind.

Pretend this is Pokemon and get all your starters to at least level 12 before taking on the first gym. Run through any cave to the boss room, all the machines removed so you can enter the boss room at any time afterward- then go back. I like to go through the cave again, and again, until I can get to the boss room without breaking much of a sweat.

If you’re not pressed for time, grow two or three spots of quick growing crops somewhere in the cave that’s easily accessible, especially if you’re using lower quality sleeping bags. (If you’re going to Melody’s bath house to refresh before bosses, however, this can be ignored~)

Level grinding will also put you at a strength where you can more easily figure out if later troubles are because your defense isn’t high enough, or if there’s a magic weakness you’re not exploiting.

And, well, as mentioned, it nets you lots of items. Monsters can drop weapons or crop seeds or even nutritional things/other chemicals sometimes, and it’s nice to grab what you can get!

Upgrade your house.

2,000 lumber and 200,000 gold is a lot, but honest to god it is so worth it. This allows you to make food that actually helps your HP and RP, allows you to make NICE medicines for pennies, allows you to craft weapons and accessories more powerful than anyone should have any right to be. 

And you finally get the blessed, larger storage units, that Ivan had no reason not to give you sooner.

You can easily get half this amount by participating in the summer’s Treasure Hunt Festival (summer 26), so I encourage doing it either year 1 or year 2 if need be~ (A mix of teleport/return, the speed of a Silver Wolf, and angling yourself while running can net you a fast time.) 

Take advantage of the broken item pricing coding to make gold. 

In the first RF game, an item’s price is multiplied by its level, not raised by a fraction based on its level. This can be particularly seen in mining, especially since rocks respawn every time you leave a cave, not once every morning.

Say you go to Toros Cave and mine yourself some rather common, 700 g base price Sapphires. A level 2 sapphire is worth 1,400. Level 3, 2,100. And so on.  Upgrade your hammer, go to Toros, mine rocks in the first few rooms, and that one room where you loop around to the right and find yourself above the machine that spawns the slimes- a good day mining can net you a good haul of higher level sapphire and silver, perfect to stuff your pockets and ruin the local economy with.

I recommend doing that any time you need money. It’s easier, and much faster, than crops. However, using dungeons year round to raise crops to level 10 is also a super viable strategy if you want to use the farming mechanics!

Don’t feel like you have to rush!

Although the 5th cave - Misty Bloom - is landlocked, inaccessible except for in winter, it’s not the end of the world if you miss the chance to beat that cave in your first year! It will slow you down, sure, since you then have to loop the year all the way back around- but hey. You can get your farming level up, which means you won’t waste as much energy when tilling squares to get later cave permits. You can use the time to mine in the first four caves and raise that skill, which will also give you a lot of useful ore to craft with, give to Leo, or sell. You can work on upgrading your house. Or catching monsters to strengthen for either their products or to be cave companions. Or getting to know everyone in town so you can witness their side events. Or maybe you’ll decide to get married in the meantime, iiiiif you don’t have your eye on Lynette.

Or, if you get really tired, you can sleep through days and get to winter asap, it’s your playthrough, do what you feel you need to do! <3 Have fun, figure out what works for you, and so on~

If anyone else has any tips for anon, I’d love to hear them myself, as well! Best of luck, and enjoy the storyline!