#i love how deeply strange short stories can be

[sassypotatoe1]

Oh I know this one! I'm a huge horror fan and not in the usual way I don't care for slashers or final girl survival horrors, I like the more actually spooky and less gruesome stuff, and a part of loving horror is understanding the genre.

No one in my family enjoys horror, fair enough it's not for everyone, and a lot can be said to criticize horror and various horror sub genres. Rape and vore and gore is used too often as shock factors or tactlessly handled. Platforming fucked up world views accidentally or otherwise through horror and using the fact that it's horror as an excuse? Meh not a fan but somewhat more understandable.

The thing about horror as an overarching genre is that it's not intended to scare, I mean it is but that's not the central goal. It's meant to explore the things we are most uncomfortable with. It can do that through scaring, but also through tragedy, through mystery, through thrills and chills (more lighthearted spooks), through morbid comedy, and through heavy fictionalization of very real things.

The thing is, though, horror is only effective specifically with the people whose horror it's addressing, and even then only if it addresses it correctly according to the expectations and experiences of that sub group. (I hit post before I finished oops)

A horror that is effective for me is one that rather focuses on the beauty, reverence and tragedy of the beyond, than cheap scares and shock factors. A ghost story where the ghost may or may not be real. It could be a supernatural entity doing spooky shit, or it could be a manifestation of the deepest most painful experiences of human existence. A ghost can be a malevolent entity, or a figment representing malevolent experiences that are difficult to understand and wrap your head around.

Haunting of hill house explores sudden and traumatic loss, bly explores a loss you know is coming for a long time before it arrives, the turn of the screw (another adaptation of the short story bly is based on) focuses more on how terrifying mental illness can be for those who suffer from it. Lavender (2016) explores imo csa tactfully, depicting it as a family of ghosts luring a lone survivor of a tragedy back home to take revenge on the actual killer, while also exploring how survivors of childhood trauma and especially csa can feel shame and responsibility for the things that happened to them. It even addressed suppression of traumatic memory semi effectively.

You can tell my bias for the sub genre of trauma and tragedy explored through a lense of the supernatural. This sub genre of horror isn't good to everyone. They rarely have gore, they have limited or highly artful jump scares, they favor subtlety over shock value and they make use of the set and the score to tell the story rather than any scary events overtly portrayed. They still have those, but it takes second stage to the story. People who love more traditional horror, jump scares, ghosts that are visible and vocal and violent, straightforward stories where everything is explicitly explained, that's more appealing to a lot of people.

Slashers rose to fame because of the rise in serial killers, found footage worked because we were shifting from analog to digital media and digitizing old analog media unearthed a lot of random shit and sometimes strange and unsettling shit, and people wanted to explore that concept more deeply.

In the 60s horror was a pretty new genre to my knowledge. The closest we got was snuff films (which are mostly lost to time thank god) and Gothic horror, monster films with practical effects, it was a whole new concept and they were testing the waters with godawful tech and even worse makeup, but they stood the test of time because they were the first steps to a whoooole new type of media, where people could explore the most extreme and terrible things we experience in a way that is safe, it feels safe. People like horror because you can walk away from feeling the things you're too scared to feel usually, and go right back to regular life like nothing happened, because technically nothing did.

Now I'm no film historian, the above information is pieced together from random shit I've heard and read and watched over the years, but I think I got the gist of it. Horror sucks from generation to generation, person to person even, because whatever is happening in society at the time, or to the individual in their life, will affect what themes and tropes hit hard for them.

Hill house works for me because I've experienced sudden and traumatic loss and it manages to capture how the grief actually feels over the years. Bly manor works for me because I'm queer, but also because my grandmother had Parkinsons, my grandfather had dementia, my other grandfather had esophageal cancer, and knowing what's coming didn't make a difference in any way to how intensely I've grieved them.

Lavender works for me because I was traumatized by csa and early exposure to sexual materials, and I have had to fictionalize my trauma to be able to cope with it my whole life, and my memory isn't reliable, and if I'm ever driven to it by highly extreme circumstances I would probably benefit from getting retribution for all the shit everyone in my life has put me through.

Slashers aren't good to me because it's cheap shock value, and I feel like a lot of my generation feels the same. Though they seem to be making a bit of a resurgence, and I'm curious to see what the reasons are. Older generations don't like the more subtle mindfucky horror I like, because they don't want to have to think about it. They want cheap thrills and chills and excessive gore that you have to suspend your disbelief for.

I haven't been able to figure out what about slashers are good to older generations, but I would like to know more. This is getting too long and I think I've said what I wanted anyway so yeah, the world sucks in different ways now than it did 20/30/50 years ago, and fictional media will reflect that.

"Why does Gen Z suck shit at horror?" every generation sucks shit at horror. In the 2000's they were sucking shit at found footage, in the 80's they were sucking shit at slasher flicks, in the 60's -- Jesus, in the 60's they sucked so much shit someone went and made a whole TV show where a bunch of guys watched horror movies from the 60's and made fun of how much shit they suck.

[man-down-in-hatchet-town]

THERE'S A CASTLE ON THE HILL, AS THE STORY GOES...

As promised, some initial thoughts on the things I loved about seeing this show. Spoiler free, since most of us haven't gotten to see it yet, and under the cut since I do wax a bit poetic...

Cinderella’s Castle is, in a strange way, an exercise in irony. The show is a retelling of an ancient story that is beloved and recited throughout so many cultures, and yet somehow feels completely fresh. The modern take on glam-punk lighting, a score infused with styles from 80s synth to anime, a high fantasy set with the costumes to match, the spirit of Jim Henson lingering through both the puppets and some larger and intangible vibe, a script combining that Starkid humor and Hatchetfield darkness with a whole different style of speaking… all of these beautifully executed elements melted together into something that I’ve never before seen. To take a tale as old as time and make it unique is no easy feat, but Starkid did so with magic and charm to spare.

Like any good Starkid show, Cinderella’s Castle is relentlessly dynamic: fun and tragic and exciting and just-plain-silly, with many twists and turns and character moments will make you gasp or cheer just as often as you laugh. It simply rollicks. The story clicks right along, especially in act 2, but the characters are so distinct and fun that I found myself almost wishing the Langs had sacrificed their plotting and pace just to spend more time hanging with every single member of this ensemble of personalities.

And that’s also a tribute to the actors themselves. Jeff is David Bowie reborn as the impish and fabulous narrator. Jon and Joey bring Hop A Lot and Crumb to life with so much charm and presence that they practically had the audience eating out of their hands from the very first second. Like, seriously, you will not believe how invested you will immediately become in these talking animals. Kim’s Fairy Queen is as radiant and terrible as promised; her portrayal of immortal inhuman power compels and commands and stands fully distinct from the Lords in Black. Lauren and Mariah are delightfully disgusting as the vile but deeply lovable troll step-sisters; you can feel the fun they’re having practically radiating off of them. Curt’s Tadius is dryly funny and put-upon, but also provides a vitally grounding and centering presence in the larger-than-life world of the Lands That Are. His big scene with Bryce is probably my favorite part of the whole show. James Tolbert is nothing short of an absolute STAR as the Prince, stealing scene after scene after scene with ease and charm and more jokes about genitalia than I think any of us expected. Angela once again displays a completely different facet of her never-ending range, exuding such elegance and control even in trollish filth that I do fear that the kids on the internet are going to start calling her “mother” with greatly increasing frequency. "Facade" was an absolute highlight of the night. And of course Bryce anchors, propels, and heightens every scene she’s in with such apparent ease you forget she’s been rehearsing for weeks and isn’t simply Ella herself. Ella is this world’s bruised, brave, and angry heart, and you will absolutely root for her every step of the way as she wrestles with who she is and learns what it means to claim her own power.

This was Starkid’s biggest budgeted show to date, and you could tell. This group of Michigan Wolverines and friends have accomplished incredible things since the Very Potter days of a single door and some cardboard columns, and I’m so proud of how far they’ve come. And yet Cinderella’s Castle, the fifteenth musical in the fifteenth year, still retains some of that core Starkid magic that I’ve always believed boils down to love. You can so often see that love emanating from the performers on a Starkid stage: love for the show, for their friends, for their craft, for the audience’s energy pushing them through. And the sense of love and support and community radiating from the audience is just as palpable. The man sitting behind me last night was at his first ever Starkid show, and afterwards he remarked in awe how that was the best audience he’d ever been in. And all that love isn’t unearned—it is built and it is nourished by a proud history of creativity, of song and of dance and of laughter and tears. And Cinderella’s Castle, I think, is going to prove an installment worthy of both Starkid’s past and future.

Starkid family, Bogs Hollow grants thee Starlight.

[caitified]

you meet caitlin in an airport lounge and don’t know she’s a famous athlete but she’s super into you

airport lounge

caitlin clark x reader

warnings:none, short sorry! part 2?

the soft hum of conversation fills the airport’s premium lounge as you sip your coffee, relaxing into the plush chair while waiting for your delayed flight. you glance around, eyes landing on a striking figure sitting a few seats away—a tall, athletic-looking woman with intense eyes and an easy confidence. she’s focused on something on her phone, unaware of your gaze, but there’s something magnetic about her that you can’t ignore.

a few moments pass, and then she glances up, catching you looking. a smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks, but instead of looking away, you offer a small smile. she doesn’t hesitate; getting up from her seat, she walks over, her presence somehow filling the space around her.

“mind if i join you?” she asks, her voice smooth and friendly.

“not at all,” you reply, a little too eagerly, which earns a quiet chuckle from her. she sits down, setting her phone aside, and you take a closer look at her—there’s a certain charisma to her, an effortless charm that has you intrigued.

“i’m caitlin,” she says, extending a hand.

you introduce yourself, shaking her hand, feeling a small spark at the contact. the two of you start talking, and soon, you’re laughing and sharing stories as if you’ve known each other for years. she’s funny, warm, and has a way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room, even with all the noise around you.

“so, are you traveling for work or just for fun?” she asks, leaning back, her gaze fixed on you.

“just for fun,” you admit, smiling. “taking a little break from everything.”

she nods, her expression thoughtful. “i get that. sometimes you just need to step away, clear your head.”

“what about you?” you ask. “are you going somewhere exciting?”

her eyes flicker, a hint of amusement in them. “kind of. it’s for work, technically, but it’s something i’m passionate about. basketball.”

“oh, you play?” you ask, genuinely interested.

“yeah,” she says, a small smile playing on her lips. “you could say that.”

you ask her a bit more, surprised at how passionate she sounds. she talks about her love for the game, the feeling of being on the court, and the dedication it takes—though she’s oddly modest about her skill. to you, she just seems like someone deeply committed to what she does.

after a while, an announcement comes over the speakers about a delay, and caitlin groans. “guess we’re stuck here for a bit longer.”

“could be worse,” you say with a grin, “at least the company’s good.”

she laughs, glancing at you with a warmth in her eyes that sends a thrill through you. “yeah, definitely could be worse.”

time slips away as you talk, your conversations ranging from travel and hobbies to random little quirks you both share. you catch her glancing at you every so often, and each look makes your heart beat just a little faster. there’s a pull between you, something you can’t quite explain, and you find yourself hoping the delay stretches on forever.

eventually, caitlin glances at her phone, then back at you, a playful glint in her eye. “if i asked for your number, would i get it? i mean, just in case we run into each other again…”

you smile, handing her your phone. “i think that can be arranged.”

she takes it, typing in her number before handing it back, her fingers brushing yours. “just don’t forget about me when we’re halfway across the country,” she teases.

“i don’t think that’s possible,” you reply, the words slipping out before you can stop them. her smile widens, and for a second, you wonder if she feels it too—this strange, instant connection.

the final boarding call for her flight breaks the moment, and she stands, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “i guess that’s me,” she says, though she lingers, as if reluctant to leave.

“safe travels,” you say softly, feeling a pang as she heads toward the gate.

“you too.” she glances back, giving you one last smile, and then she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd. it’s only later, when you check your phone, that you see a text from an unknown number: hey, it’s caitlin. let’s not leave this at the airport.

[ayyy-pee]

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Masterlist

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Female Reader

Story Summary: Following his mothers passing, Nanami inherits his family's rundown bakery. With the bakery on its last leg, Nanami reluctantly takes on the task of trying to save what his family has worked to keep for decades, but he can't do it alone.

Genre: Bakery/Coffee Shop AU

Warnings: Workaholic meanie Nanami, employee x boss relationship, but also enemies to lovers, death, grief/mourning, profanity, jealousy, fluff, angst, Nanami owns a bakery, parental loss, Nanami is bad at feelings, I don’t know if I’ll do smut for this one but sexual tension, mutual pining, Nanami is sort of an asshole here

Art by: Ilameys + (Unknown artist (right pic). I'd love to credit the artist so if you know who it is, please let me know!)

Chapter 2 - Wienerbrød

Chapter Summary: You try to bake something new!

You kick your shoes off as you enter your apartment. With your phone wedged between your ear and your shoulder, you groan in irritation as you storm into your living room.

“I’m telling you, Shoko. This guy is such a fucking asshole. Shut me down the second I asked him a simple question,” you’re ranting as you flop down onto your couch. “He’s got to be the most pessimistic person I’ve ever met. He did nothing but pick apart the entire bakery and tell me how shitty it was, tried to establish some strange dominance thing in the kitchen after offering me the job… the kitchen,” you stress dramatically, wavering your arms as if Shoko can see you. “My domain! Can you believe him? He doesn’t give a shit about the actual bakery. He’s a total businessman type. Stiff, boring as hell and a dick. I don’t know why I said yes to the position. I’m going to hate my life.”

You exhale sharply once you’ve finished your tirade. On the other end of the line, you hear your friend inhale deeply. You didn’t have to ask to know she was sucking on a cigarette, likely almost finished with it and prepping her second, maybe third. After a short beat of silence, you hear her exhale. “Hmm, is he hot at least?”

“Extremely,” you admit through gritted teeth, rubbing away the tension quickly forming between your brows. “That’s the worst part.”

You hate to think it, you loathe to admit it, but Nanami was so very fucking attractive, like stupid hot and it pissed you off! Those thick arms practically bulging through his dress shirt, those veins that exposed themselves and ran enticingly along his forearms when he rolled his sleeves up. His chiseled features, those sharp cheekbones, even his frown was attractive. And god, you didn’t even want to think about his waist. 

Anyone with eyes could see Nanami Kento was an insanely beautiful man, modelesque even. But it only served to piss you off more. His constant gloomy attitude was so off-putting, it almost took away from his beauty, like a rain cloud threatening to cover a blue sky.

“Anyway,” you sigh, putting a stop to your own thoughts as you stare up at the ceiling.  “That’s beside the point, Shoko. He’s an asshole, but it’s obvious he needs help to get his bakery up and running. I think it’s family owned. He told me that he grew up in the bakery. Seemed miserable about it, though.”

“Interesting,” Shoko manages, though she sounds rather disinterested. “Well if he had to pick anyone, he definitely hired the best person for the job. You’re annoyingly positive.”

“Okay, rude.”

“I just mean you’ll balance his negativity well. Just try not to let him walk all over you. You’ve worked with plenty of dickheads before. What’s one more?”

You hum, your mind already accepting your fate. “I guess you’re right.”

“You know I am. The guy clearly needs help and you love this kind of thing - taking something old, miserable and rundown and making it loveable again.”

You hum again, listening as Shoko blows out another breath of smoke. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll do the same for the bakery, too.”

“Right. Wait– what?”

“I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” She says, voice light with humor. The line goes dead and you roll your eyes at your friends comments as you let the day's events wash over you. Nanami said he wanted to sample some of your desserts on Monday and see some new recipes. You can do that.

The moment you’d stepped into the bakery’s kitchen, your mind raced with possibilities. You felt at home there. The kitchen felt like it had been loved, like it was properly used and cared for, albeit old and a little rundown. That was okay. It gave the kitchen personality and you loved that. You wanted to continue giving the kitchen the love it deserved.

Nanami told you he’d grown up in that kitchen, but he truly seemed to hate even being in the building. You tried to picture a chubby little blonde boy with his arms crossed and a scowl etched across his face standing in the kitchen covered in flour and icing. Adorable, but definitely not the man you’d met today. You wondered how it came to be that he now owned this bakery when he seemed to despise it.

And you wondered if there was a way to get him to learn to love it again.

You shake your head, pushing the thought away. It wasn’t your job to turn his frown upside down, so to speak. It was your job to make sure the bakery was successful as it’s Head Baker and that’s what you intended to do.

- - - - - -

The weekend came and went just as quickly and now you find yourself standing in the kitchen of the bakery with Nanami as the sun barely begins to rise over the city. You pile your notebooks onto the large metal table in the center of the room. Nanami reaches over, taking the notebook sitting atop the stack.

“Are these your recipes?” He asks, flipping through the pages.

“Yep. These are some pastries I created on a whim. I was thinking we could go through and select what you like, maybe tweak some so that they fit more of the vibe you’re going for with the bakery. Or are there any pastries you’d like to keep from the previous owner?” 

Nanami’s dark eyes shoot up from the notebook to look at you. You hold his gaze, trying to find anything behind those eyes aside from the clear hatred he holds for this bakery, but you don’t. It’s frustrating.

“No,” is all he says.

“Okay…well, we can start from scratch then. Let me know what you see that you may like.”

Nanami replies with something between a grunt and a hum. “I’ll review a few of these and will follow up. If you want to get comfortable and organize the kitchen to your liking, go ahead. Please try and have a sample pastry ready within the next few hours.”

He turns to go into his office without so much as a look back.

You sigh, trying to get used to this silence you were sure you’d be working in everyday whether Mr. Nanami was there or not. You couldn’t wait to establish a menu so you could bring staff on. At least then you wouldn’t feel so alone.

You wander through the kitchen with a notepad, looking through all of the smallwares and jotting down what you see in case you need to place an order. There seems to be many of the supplies you need here already and in good condition - spatulas, mixing bowls, flour sifters, icing tips. The bakeware also seems to be well supplied with an array of bread pans, muffin tins and cake pans. This place was fully stocked as far as you could tell. 

You shuffle over to where three mixer appliances sit on a counter against the wall, setting your notepad down to inspect them. They’re a little older, but they turn on and mix just fine. You’d bet they mixed better than some of the newer models. You decide you’ll keep them.

As you lean one of the mixers over to check its condition, you find a small booklet lying underneath the stand. You pick it up, gently setting the mixer back down before you open it to inspect it. It’s a tiny black leatherbound journal with very faded gold lettering in a language you definitely don’t know.

And you? Well, you’re nosey as hell, so you carefully peel back the cover, taking in the elegant writing etched onto the first page.

To my baby boy

There’s some strange writing scrawled beneath this in what looks like English letters. You can’t really tell, but it seems to be some message in whatever language this is. You turn a couple of pages and let your eyes roam over what’s written within. The rest of the pages you can read fairly easily as they’re in English. You can see immediately that these are recipes. The booklet is full of pastry dishes, both sweet and savory. They appear to be foreign pastries and you feel your heart race with excitement as you imagine making them because while you were adventurous with your baking, you’re positive you haven’t tried to make any of these. 

And Nanami did want to sample your baking, so why not give him something he’s not going to see in your portfolio?

Eagerly, you begin moving through the rest of the kitchen equipment, taking out what you need to begin.

- - - - - -

The kitchen is full with the smell of fresh dough baking. The quiet hum of the ovens working calms you as you sift through the recipe in the booklet you’d found earlier. You decided to make one of your original creations while also trying your hand at this new mystery pastry in case Mr. Nanami liked both…or one…or none. Shit, you didn’t want to imagine him not liking either.

You stare down at the ingredients already in the mixing machines.

“Alright. So, water, 2 large eggs, a teaspoon of salt, unsalted butter, active dry yeast…” You read through the remaining list of ingredients until you reach the end. “And now…flour?” You squint down at the notebook, the words scribbled messily on the paper, time having faded the ink. You can’t really make out the measurements written out. It looks like 2 ½ cups. You’ll try it and hey, if it doesn’t work, you’ll simply adjust the recipe to find the right mix. Easy.

Just as you’re sorting through the measuring cups, Nanami emerges from his office with your journals, mouth set in its usual hard line as he makes his way to you. He sets the books down, and you swear you see him inhale the sweet scent of the pastries currently baking in the oven before softly exhaling. You open your mouth to say something before quickly shutting it because he’s back to business in about .02 seconds. You really can’t read this guy, so you don’t try to. You redirect your focus back on to your task.

“These look good,” he tells you, his finger tapping on the book stacked on top. “I placed a post-it note on the recipes I think may work for the soft opening, but I’d like for you to make a sample of them beforehand. Maybe just a few a day.”

You nod, acknowledging his request but far too focused on scooping your guesstimate of flour. Nanami eyes you carefully, brown eyes staring as you carefully run your finger over the top of the flour. The excess falls carelessly onto the table and just before you pour it in, Nanami speaks, his voice halting your movements.

“What are you making now?”

“Hmm?” You ask, glancing over at him. “Oh, something called…” you peer down at the booklet, “Wee-ner-brod?” You’re one hundred percent positive you butchered that pronunciation, but how do you even pronounce ‘wienerbrød’? 

Clearly Nanami knows because he surprisingly lets out an amused chuckle before he asks, “Wienerbrød?” With what you assume is perfect pronunciation. And you’re not sure why, but the sound of his deep baritone laugh makes your stomach twist in a strangely pleasant way.

“Yes! That!” You point to Nanami with your free finger. “I’m making…” you stumble your way through the pronunciation again and get another small laugh from Mr. Nanami which makes your own lips curl up in a smile.

“I didn’t know you knew how to make Danish pastries.”

“I don’t, but you don’t learn without trying.”

“True. What step are you on now?” Nanami asks curiously, coming up to stand next to you. This close to him, you can truly see just how large he is. Not to mention, he smells incredible. You ignore the way the mix of the aroma of baked goods and his cologne almost makes your eyes want to roll back. You’d never smelled something so tantalizing before.

Nanami calls your name and you clear your throat, trying to re-focus.

“Oh, um…well I’ve added mostly everything and now I need to incorporate the flour - about 2 ½ cups.”

“Your calculation is off.” He affirms gently, eyeing the measuring cup in your hand.

You snort, “Are you suddenly an expert in Danish baking or something?”

“I can throw a few things together.” He says and you peek over to see him rolling the sleeves of his very nice (and probably very expensive) shirt up to his elbows. Your eyes roam over, drinking in the sight of those thick veins that you couldn’t get out of your head over the weekend protruding from his forearms, the way his muscles flex with the slightest movement and you wonder for a moment what it would be like to grab onto those arms while he –

“As I was saying,” Nanami’s quiet voice interrupts your reverie. “2 ½ cups is close, but you actually need 2 ¾ cups for this recipe.” He reaches in front of you to grab a ¾ measuring cup and again, you’re assaulted with the scent of his cologne. Your mind erupts with thoughts of nothing appropriate for an employee to be thinking about their boss, but you can’t help it!

You blame it on that damn smile of his and that laugh. It’s thrown you off of your game.

Nanami takes the measuring cup you’re holding and replaces it with another. “You also need to use your hands to mix this.”

You might faint.

“Is that…” you lick your lips, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Is that completely necessary?”

Nanami slowly adds small amounts of flour into the mixer bowl while kneading with his other hand. “It’s time consuming, of course, but it allows for more control over the dough. You can feel the dough's texture…if it’s too dry or if it’s too wet. From there you can determine if more water or more flour is needed.” You watch as his brows furrow in concentration, a little surprised by his knowledge around dough. Though it shouldn’t be surprising given that he grew up in this very same bakery. Of course he’d know.

And once again, your stomach does somersaults.

Damnit, he was definitely going to need to stay out of the kitchen if you were going to stay employed here.

As Nanami continues working through the recipe, you chat idly about general things. He tells you a bit about his time as a businessman, but doesn’t elaborate on what exactly led him to own a bakery. And you tell him a bit about yourself, trying to keep the conversation light as this was the most you’d both interacted since your interview and you’re surprised by how well it’s going. You don’t want to ruin it by poking and prodding.

As the conversation goes on, you watch him very carefully as he works the dough, ignoring the way your heart races watching him do the very thing you do almost daily.

“The end result should be somewhat sticky,” he states.

And oh god, something was getting sticky alright…and it lay between your legs. Your eyes are glued to the bulging muscles of Nanami’s forearms working the flour into a thick doughy substance between his large, thick fingers. Your gaze moves up his stupidly sexy arms, to his biceps straining against his shirt and you imagine him flexing so hard, it rips to shreds, falling in tatters to the floor. The cartoonish image almost makes you want to laugh. And you would have if your eyes hadn’t continued their journey, higher to his tight shoulders moving in circles as he presses his palms into the dough. Higher to the tension in his jaw, the muscles rippling as he grits his teeth with focus. The kitchen suddenly feels unbearably hot and you’re not sure if it’s the ovens running causing the temperature to rise or the view in front of you.

Nanami had never mentioned he knew how to bake. But why would he? It was your job to know. You also never thought to ask after the sour note your interview ended on despite you still being offered the position. You could not stand him upon first meeting and now here you were practically drooling into this batter over how incredibly sexy he was when he was baking.

Nanami slowly pours flour in again as he kneads the dough with expert precision. The way he grips it in his hands, the way his fingers deftly sprinkle flour into the mix. You wonder what else those big hands can do.

The oven timer dings and you snap out of your lewd thoughts, pretty sure sweat is forming on your forehead from your fantasies. You spin around quickly to slide on oven mitts before you pull the pans from the oven. You’d chosen to make miniature fruit tarts with a vanilla pastry cream. A simple recipe, but absolutely to die for. Setting the tray down, you return to Nanami’s side just as he finishes kneading the dough.

And you try to hide the frown pulling at the corner of your lips when you realize you’d lost your perfect view.

He moves to the sink to wash the remaining dough from his hands, returning with plastic wrap to cover the mixing bowl. “I hope you weren’t planning on completing that today,” He says before turning to head toward the walk-in refrigerator. When he emerges, you shoot him a questioning look.

“I was going to let the dough rise for a few hours while I worked on some other things.”

He hums in acknowledgment, but shakes his head. “For this dough, you need to do a long rise for the best result. Overnight is best.”

“Okay, you’re the expert Danish pastry baker apparently,” you tease, earning you another small chuckle from him and you feel your face heat up at the sound.

What is with you today?

“How did you come up with the idea to make Wienerbrød anyway?” He questions suddenly. “Just seems a bit random given what recipes you’d given me to review.”

“Oh!” You rush back over to the mixers excitedly and grab the booklet, holding it up for Nanami to see, a wide grin on your face. “I found this under one of the mixers. It has some strange language I can’t read in the front of it…I’m assuming it’s Danish? But some delicious sounding recipes from what I could understand when I skimmed through. I decided this would be a good idea to take myself out of my comfort zone to try something new.”

Nanami takes a step forward, squinting hard at the little journal in your hands. Suddenly, his eyes widen slightly and he snatches the book from your hold. He opens it to the first page, where the foreign message is scrawled down before he snaps the book shut, his lips pursing in displeasure.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in clear irritation. “Next time you find something that is very clearly a personal belonging, please bring it to me before you take it upon yourself to poke through something that isn’t yours,” he snaps, his voice clipped.

The shift in tone takes you aback.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Mr. Nanami. It just seemed to belong to someone who knew their way around baking so I–”

“I didn’t ask for the reasoning behind your nosiness,” he cuts you off and you feel your own irritation begin to slowly rise. “Is this a habit of yours? Digging through people’s belongings and taking things that aren’t yours?”

You scoff, folding your arms across your chest defensively. “If you’d let me finish, I’m trying to apologize –”

“I don’t want an apology. I want you to show up here, bake and leave. Not spend your time digging through someone else’s belongings.”

You inhale sharply, trying to gather your thoughts. This conversation has taken an unpleasant turn and the last thing you want to do is have a blow up with your boss. You feel like you’ve actually made progress with him today and this feels like a setback waiting to happen.

“Again, Mr. Nanami, that wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to try something new. I had no idea this book…” you wave your hand in his direction. “...would be such a sore spot for you.”

At this, Nanami seems to bristle. “My sore spot,” he stresses the words, “is nosey employees who don’t just do the job I asked them to do. I asked you to make a sample pastry –”

“And I did,” you cut him off, gesturing to your tarts cooling on the table. “And I had enough time to try my hand at something new, which is why I wanted to try something new and present it to you.”

You sigh when Nanami meets your response with silence.

“What’s the issue here? You had no problem with helping me make this until you saw that book,” you say, pointing at the small black journal he holds. Your gazes lock in an intense staredown and even as Nanami annoys you, you can’t help but find his frustratingly pretty brown eyes completely mesmerizing. 

Ugh, stop.

“The issue,” Nanami stresses, “is you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Excuse me? It’s just a recipe book. Why are you so upset about it? Is it yours or something?”

“Again, poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Mr. Nanami, with all due…respect,” you grit out the last word because he was really starting to piss you off, “if we’re going to be working together as closely as we are, there needs to be some trust here. It’s just a recipe book. I apologize for overstepping, but you can tell me why referencing this book to make Weenerbrod is such a big deal.”

You could swear you see the ghost of a smile on his lips just before he rolls his eyes, correcting your pronunciation of the pastry again, just as he turns his back to you. “You are my employee, I am your employer and that’s it. My helping you to bake a simple bread does not make us friends. Please complete the sample pastries I requested of you and we can reconvene once they’re finished. End of discussion.”

Nanami heads to his office without another word, slamming the door behind him.

You can only watch him disappear from your sight, seething. Left standing in the kitchen alone after yet another faceoff with your new boss, you’re suddenly reminded of your earlier conversation with Shoko.

Just try not to let him walk all over you. You’ve worked with plenty of dickheads before. What’s one more?

You resist going after Nanami and giving him a piece of your mind, instead following his instructions to finish your samples. You won’t push him. Clearly that little book meant something to him and he had no intention of sharing. And he was right. It wasn’t your business to know…

…But you can’t help feeling upset that the light mood of earlier is now gone.

You sigh, ignoring the pit in your stomach as your anger begins to subside. Instead, you move to the walk in refrigerator, gathering the ingredients to make the vanilla cream for your tarts.

Your mind is still racing with the conversation that just took place even as you mix your ingredients and pack the cream into the icing decorating bags. You realize for the first time since meeting Nanami that he wasn’t only this stoic tyrant that enjoys barking orders. He was someone with interests, someone with depth, someone who clearly enjoyed the art of baking the same way you do. You saw the look in his eyes as he guided you through making this pastry. And while you’ve barely known Nanami, you’re familiar with the look on someone’s face when they’ve participated in their passion. He looked…happy. Clearly, there’s more to Nanami than you know.

More to him than what he was willing to show you. For now. 

You’re annoyingly positive.

Shoko’s words make you roll your eyes as they echo in her head. Because you know she’s right.

[jasmines-library]

I’m in love with the angst. Can you do a sister Winchester story where she’s at dinner with John and the boys and she starts choking

Knock it off

Note: Sorry this took me so long to get to! I wasn't 100% sure what direction to take this in so it's a little short i'm sorry, but I hope it's okay.

warnings: Choking. J*hn Winchester (yes he is a warning)

Word count: 1k

⛤ SPN MASTERLIST ⛤

It was an unusual occurrence for the four of you to be in one room at the same time, let alone sat crowded around a dinner table eating something other than diner food or one of those ready made meals that were convenient, but tasted like cardboard and had an aftertaste that stuck around for far too long, But nevertheless, there you were. You were crammed in between your brothers, your knees rubbed up against theirs and your elbows occasionally bumped into each other as you took forkfuls of food. 

There was an unmeasurable grin plastered across your face, reaching from one ear to the next. And there was one on your dad’s too. He was treasuring the moment, you were sure. The way his body relaxed into the wooden chair told you that much. With time left over after a hunt that went unusually well, he had decided to cook something so, a quick pit-stop and a few hours later, he had managed to produce a steaming tray of burgers from the motel’s half functioning grill, and whilst it was far from gourmet, and wasn't going to make up for his countless mistakes and poor parenting, or win him any ‘father of the year awards’, it was a gentle step in the right direction.

The sound of the tv playing listlessly in the background was drowned out almost completely by the chatter as you shared stories and memories, laughing at the few treasured moments that the four of you had shared. 

You were about halfway through the meal when it happened; suddenly your body was completely deprived of air. You began to work up a coughing fit, spluttering and cutting out the chatter completely as everyone turned to look at you. 

Dean deepened the creases between his eyes. “You okay there sweetheart?”

You nodded, trying to dismiss him with a thumbs up, but whatever was cutting off your airway wouldn't budge. Gasping for breath, you pushed your chair away from the table clutching at your chest. Your brothers were up in a flash frantically patting you on the back. It felt like hours before the offending piece budged and you took in air selfishly. 

A few rouge tears trailed down your face as Sam led you over to the edge of the bed, setting you down gently. He rubbed his hands soothingly up and down your arms as you hyperventilated, now taking in too much air with the thought of running out again persistent in your mind. 

“Deep breaths, Kiddo. Deep breaths.” He crouched down in front of you, taking your small hands in his and pressing a gentle kiss to them. 

You followed his breathing, inhaling deeply, then holding it, savouring it and then exhaling back out again, until finally your body remembered somewhat how it was supposed to function and your breathing steadied. 

Your dad came over hesitantly with a glass of cool water clutched gently in his hands. It was strange that even with all of his years hunting monsters, he still didn’t know how to act around his children when they were in distress. Fear gripped him tightly like a glove, taking over all of his control over his body. So, it took him a few moments to process what was happening before he actually made a move towards you. 

“You alright?” He queried as you took gentle sips of water, under the watchful eyes of your older brother, Dean. 

You nodded. “Yeah…”

Dean ran his hands over his face and let out a sigh. “Jesus, sweetheart. You scared the crap out of us.”

“Sorry…” You shrugged, pushing your shoulders up to your ears.

Sammy shook his head, tossing his hair around his face. “It was an accident.”

“Just remember to chew your food next time.” Dean quipped. He was always one to make a joke out of a serious situation to lighten the mood. He couldn’t stand the tension, it made him nauseous. 

‘

You rolled your eyes and slapped him playfully on the chest. “Not cool.”

He turned his head. “You know I am.”

“Dude.” Sam said, giving his older brother a look. “Shut up.”

“What?! I am!”

He sighed. “If you say so.”

You just chuckled at their antics, glad that your incident didn’t ruin the tender moment between your family. You would always treasure little moments like these, with your brothers being your brothers, even if it meant spending time hauled up in a motel listening to the pair of them bicker. It was a reminder that sometimes, the three of you could be normal if only just for a precious moment.

⛤ MAIN MASTERLIST ⛤

[loremaster]

happy birthday to the guy i've been drawing nonstop for the past several months - here's proof!!! he's a lot of fun to draw!

vivia is also a very important character to me for very personal reasons... (cw: family death)

it didn't take long for me to realize he was gonna be my favorite character in the game - seeing him lounging in places he shouldn't be cracked me up, and so did his morbid catchphrase... i totally related to his autistic tendencies, and his eagerness to dwell on depressing philosophical thoughts. i especially love and relate to his love for literature and literary analysis, especially because my eighth grade english teacher was my dad, who introduced me to so many of what are now my favorite books, and showed me how to look closer into what makes them so good. his story structure classes were unforgettable.

my dad passed away in 2020 and i've been going through fluctuating stages of grief since. it ebbs and flows but never really leaves. a lot of my art and stories from the past 3+ years have been ways to process and try to heal from that trauma (especially my pokemon sword nuzlocke comic, which i'm hoping to finish this summer)

so seeing the strange way vivia deals with death - in general, and the death of a loved one - fascinated me and destroyed me. i've spent many nights curled up in bed sobbing myself to sleep thinking about the heartbreak he goes through in the story, the regrets, the destructive cycle of grief, the depths of the emotions he feels in such a unique way (he's so desensitized he never cries once in the whole game!) and the ways he is able to start to grow and heal from it afterwards.

exploring the queer romantic angle of vivia's character arc is also so so so important to me, not only because i'm a queer person who's wanted to tell queer stories since i was a teen, but because my dad was also a queer person, who didn't get to come out as bisexual until the tail end of his too-short life. i know he connected to a lot of the same Boys In Love stories that I did, and i wish we'd had the opportunity to explore that common ground further. but since i can't, all i can do is the next best thing - making art about it and inspired by it. i think my dad would really like vivia and the stories i've been trying to tell about him. (harold and maude was one of his favorite movies - and if you're a vivia fan and you've never seen it GO WATCH IT RIGHT NOW. suicidal teen forms an unlikely friendship with a cheerful old lady. you will cry your eyes out. you will want to LIVE)

so, i guess... thanks kodaka for making this specific character that spoke so deeply to me at this specific time in my life and letting me use him as a vehicle to process my own grief in the gayest ways possible. and happy birthday veeva <3

[amore-reads16]

Liam Mairi x fem reader

Overview- Liam and Y/N have been spending a lot of time together over the past few months and feelings between the pair have developed deeply however there is a betrayal under the surface that is uncovered leaving only heart break behind.

Note- okay so this is and idea that came to me and is meant to be like the turning point of an enemies to lovers story where the protagonist has been betrayed and finds out so mainly the feelings of hurt and betrayal. So yeah have fun with that one if you can! Also listening to I love you I’m sorry by Gracie Abrams might set the tone…

Liam had been missing from dinner which was strange as he always made time to sit next to you even if it was to talk about trivial things. Even though you had only begun properly getting to know each other five months ago there had not been one day where you had not seen to him, spoken to him, laughed with him and for the last few months exchanged and sneaked kisses in the hallway away from prying eyes. So for Liam to be missing from your side tonight was beyond weird. In fact he always was by your side you suddenly thought. Strange how one person can go from not knowing another to being completely and utterly consumed by them. It was a feeling you had tried not to become dependant on but the strange feeling in your stomach told you that you had failed miserably at that task.

After finishing dinner and having seen everyone else, including your friends and brother leave, you knew something wasn’t right. Something was out of place. It wasn’t just Liam missing from dinner you had observed. His friends had also been absent including Xeden Riorson, which yes was nothing new, but tonight was different- they were all gone. Finally picking yourself up from the bench you had been sitting at hopefully and wistfully waiting for the blond haired, bright eyed boy to stroll by in the cocky, childish way he usually did, you quietly exit to dining room.

Wrapped up in your thoughts you suddenly realise that your body has taken you to the outskirts of the building to a small garden that Liam often took you to- a place he called his ‘secret little spot, away from nosey people’. However it must not be that secret you think as you catch a glimpse of five hooded figures, some in incredibly tall and one shorter signalling a mix of men and women within the group. Using the stealth you have fostered from years of sneaking around your family home as a child, you creep around the corner within earshot of the group hiding in the dark shadows the crevice provided, curiosity taking over your mind. The voices are muffled of course, but there is one distinctive boyish voice that stands out. A voice that often soothed you and whispered sweet nothings in your ear now sounded serious, concerned and ultimately regretful.

“She’s different to what you think Xaden” so Xaden is one of the hooded figures, you think, makes sense.

“Liam, I couldn’t care less if she is an angel sent from the heavens herself- she’s dangerous. To us. To everything we’ve been working for.” Xaden replies. Who is she?

“So what? We just kill her? She’s innocent Xaden” Liam responds angrily. That tone is a tone you have only heard a couple of times. Never directed at you of course unless you do something stupid that puts you in harms way. Istead that tone is used towards people that disrespect you, sexualise you, try to hurt you.

Xaden tuts and lets out a short breath “don’t tell me Mairi that you’ve actually fallen for this girl.” Suddenly the identity of this girl is becoming clearer unless Liam has been cheating on you, which would be extremely out of character, this mystery girl the cloaked figures have gathered to discuss is indeed you.

Liam pauses for a long moment before answering and you swear you can hear your heart beat in your chest so loudly it will give your identity away. “No. Of course not” he eventually replies.

Heart ache consumes your body. Although you have never told Liam you love him and he has never uttered those three words to you, you have felt it. You have felt how much you love him and in return how much he loves you. And that had been enough for you. But now hearing him deny the affection you was sure he felt, your heart felt like it had been crushed under your own dragon’s foot.

“Her signet is just as dangerous as Aetos’. She is a valuable weapon for them, one they will never let go. Liam you know who her parents are. Her dad cut half of us down during the rebellion and her mother was the greatest healer of all time and it seems she is set to follow in her foot steps. Are you sure her signet is healing?” Xaden asks

“Yes. I have seen it. It is impressive but not at its full potential yet. She told me that she has been advised that is will manifest even deeper and only grow stronger. With the right training she will be able to heal a body that is on the brink of death” Liam says in a quieter voice then he used before- he almost sounds defeated you think as you refuse the sudden urge to scoop him into your arms and comfort him. Comfort the man who has just betrayed you and your secret. The man who has just signed your death sentence.

“She can’t ever expand her powers. It is too dangerous to have her running around healing everyone we try and take down. We will never win when the number of us decreases and theirs stay the same” another voice speaks and you immediately recognise it as Imogen’s. She has always hated you. You have always been able to sense it, see it in her eyes. Not that you blame her. Your dad killed a significant number of their people before he was killed himself, and your mother did nothing to help. She could have healed them all but yet she didn’t and kept on healing the men and women on the other ‘right side’ of the rebellion as your father used to quote to you.

“Liam you need to gather more information from her before we take her down. We need to know more about Aetos. They are still training together?” Garrick asks. So this is where they all were you think, instead of eating pie they were plotting your downfall. Liam was plotting your downfall. Betrayal curses down your spine. The heart break that had initially struck you has now been transformed into anger. Pure loathing anger. You gave your heart to that boy, you have everything up for that boy, and he used you. For information, for knowledge, for the secret you were swore to protect but gave away so easily to a pretty smile and twinkling eyes. Pathetic. You have been pathetic. But no longer you think.

“Yes they train every-“ he begins but you have had enough. Even if it gets you killed you cannot bear to sit here in the shadows, like a coward, another moment longer. Standing up Xaden immediately notices the movement.

“Shit. Shut up” he commands

“No need” you reply “I’ve heard everything” you emerge from the shadows that just before kept you hidden in your heart break. The anger you feel in this moment is a feeling you think you will never forget. To have loved someone and then been stabbed in the back by the same hands that held you at night. To have trusted in someone so profoundly only for your trust to have been built on lies and deceit. To have sacrificed your families beliefs, honour and status only to have them proven right and you painted as the naive love struck girl. It was sickening. It was transforming. Love turned into a bitter gall of hatred.

Storming up to the group, dagger in your hand, the faces of the cloaked figures run towards you but you can only focus on Liam’s surprised, hurt eyes. His mouth is agape and he somehow despite his betrayal looks guilt stricken. “Y/N please, I can explain” he pleads with his hands but you are not giving in.

“Keep your nerves quick one!” Rhella, your dragon encourages, as you focus on your movements ducking out of the way as Bodhi tries to restrain you followed by Imogen who you elbow swiftly in the windpipe chocking her causing her to fall to the floor gasping for breath. But that doesn’t matter as you have swiftly reached Liam and without hesitation you raise your dagger to his throat. Your breath is heavy. Your eyes are wild with anger. Your breath is ragged.

“Please let me explain Y/N” Liam says again

“NO!” You yell back and press the dagger harder drawing the slightest bit of blood. Perhaps you might have drawn more if it hadn’t been for Xaden’s shadows flinging the dagger from your fingers and Garrick restraining you whilst the others watch in shock.

Squirming in Garrick’s arms you try and wriggle free but it is no use, he has both your arms locked, and you suddenly begin debating if these will be your last moments on earth.

“Jesus Christ you came out of no where” Bodhi mutters helping a still winded Imogen up who has already set a deadly glare on you. Not that you care. She is the least of your concerns at the moment.

“Fuck” Xaden mutters as he places a hand on his head and begins to pace as if thinking very deeply.

“Let me go you fucker” you yell at Garrick.

“Shut your mouth” Xaden storms over to you grabbing your chin in his strong hand causing your mouth to shut immediately as he commanded.

“Xaden” Liam interrupts in a harsh tone almost as if he is warning him.

“Liam I think it’s best you leave” Xaden says in a low deadly voice making you shudder.

“No” Liam bluntly says causing Xaden to turn around still holding your chin strongly. “I mean- no I’m not leaving you to kill her in the middle of the bloody school. Do you know what kind of message that will send? They will know it was one of us or at least blame us for ease. We are done if you kill her now and you know it.” He says convincingly but the way Liam just coldly bargained for your survival without any compassion for you or your life causes a tear to roll down your face. He want a you alive to save their own treacherous necks. Not because he loves you and can’t bear to be in the world without you. Fucker.

“Well what do I do with her now then Liam ? She knows too much” Xaden says

Liam sighs and groans “just- just all of you go and leave her with me I can talk to her, make sure she keeps this a secret.”

Imogen lets out a shrill strangled laugh “and HOW are you going to do that Mairi? She won’t trust a word you fucking say now”

You let out a grunt in agreement to that statement causing all eyes to fall back on you. Usually Liam’s eyes are the only ones you meet however the darkness in Xaden’s are hard to look away from in this moment. He wants you dead, that much is clear, and you aren’t sure he is going to let you leave this garden without claiming your life.

“I’m going to talk to her Imogen. We clearly can’t kill her now” we is the word that stabs you ��so we will have to keep her alive and on our side” Liam angrily explains finally walking forward to where you stand putting his body only a few inches from yours where Xaden still stands manhandling you. “Let her go” he tells Xaden. Xaden looks reluctant but lets go. The relief to have his strong hands off you is unmatched, and you are sure your jaw will be deeply bruised from the strength of his grip.

“Leave everyone” Xaden commands and although the rest seem reluctant to go they do. Clearly Xaden is their leader. Now only Liam, Xaden and Garrick, who is still restraining you, remains.

“Listen and listen closely” Xaden whispers “you will not utter a word of this to anyone. You will not let anyone know we are aware of your signet and you will not tell anyone what you saw or heard tonight” he explains blandly as if it was that simple.

“And if I do not comply” you practically spit at him.

“I will personally kill your brother. Jude is it? He seems sweet, naive much like you, but kind and caring. I will crush him with my shadows and rip his soul out of him” Xaden says- no hint of any emotion on his face making his words more haunting. “Do you understand me?”

Water swells in your eyes as you quickly spare a glance at Liam who looks mortified. How dare he? This is your life, your brother’s life that is at risk not his.

“Yes” you whisper.

“Yes what?” Xaden demands.

“Yes Riorson I understand and I will not utter a word to this to anyone” you reply.

“Brilliant-“

“On one condition” you add.

Xaden laughs but it is not humoured. It is bitter and hateful. “You aren’t exactly in the position to be making demands Y/LN” he grabs your chin again causing Liam to finally interfere somehow pushing his hand away.

“Enough Xaden” he says in a tone so demanding and sure it frightens you. “What is it you ask Y/N” Liam asks you.

You look into his eyes hoping to see some glimmer of what you used to see- love, admiration, respect. But there is only desperation. Desperation for you to not anger Xaden further.

“You must promise that you will not harm my brother nor me. You will let us both live despite whatever vendetta you unjustifiably have against me as an individual. I am not my family. I am my own person with the right to prove all of you fuckers wrong. Let me live and leave my brother be” you ask Xaden avoiding Liam’s penetrating gaze at all costs. To look into his eyes now would be to cry and look weak in front of the shadow lord in front of you- being weak will get you killed. So you keep your gaze strong, focused and unfaltering.

“Deal” Xaden agrees “but if you break this deal your brother will die and you will watch. Once you have processed your grief I will kill you also” he says plainly before signalling to Garrick to let you go which he does immediately.

“You have ten minutes then you both need to leave before we all get caught” Xaden says to Liam as him and Garrick turn around walking back inside not sparing you another glance, like you have now become worthless to them.

It is now just you and Liam. You and the backstabber. The silence is deafening and makes you want to cry. Liam sighs and attempts to reach for you but you step back wrapping your arms around your body as if to shelter yourself from anymore hurt he could inflict.

“Y/N” he says softly.

“Please Liam spare me your lies” you say, your voice raw and full of emotion.

“You don’t understand. I had to. Xaden needed the information and at first you didn’t mean anything to me but as time went on I started to like you and then I started to catch feelin-“

“Stop” you cut him off meeting his desperate gaze “don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare stand there and tell me that you felt anything for me whilst betraying me and lining me up like a pig to slaughter”

“I don’t want you dead!” He shouts “I never did! I- I- I love you for gods sake! I love you and don’t want you dead” he yells loudly.

You still. He has never said that to you. “It is amazing the lengths you will go to keep my mouth shut” you reply coldly “if you ever loved me you would have never have done this to me. Love shouldn’t include betrayal and you have betrayed me in the worst way possible.”

“You think I wanted this? Wanted to lie to you? To seduce you? To make you trust me? To fall hopelessly in love with you? I didn’t! But it happened and it’s real! I would have NEVER of let them kill you. You must know this” Liam sobs, he actually fucking sobs.

“I know nothing.” You say numbly “Infact that is a lie I do know this, I know that I now regret every moment spent with you, every word I spoke to you, every kiss I gave you, every night I let you have my body. I know that I hate you Liam and will never forgive you for this. I know that if you so much as look in my direction again I will not hesitate to kill you, consequences be damned. I know that I loved you and now I detest your existence” you deliver the lines with such confidence that you almost believe them yourself. Tears that you once shed have already dried on your face and your body feels heavy ready to collapse at any moment but you know you must stay strong.

“You don’t mean that” lean chocks out. Trying to come closer to you but you just step further away

“Get out of there quick one before you take back every word you have just said” Rhella warns and you heed.

“But I do” a hateful smile falls on your face “you fuck yourself Mairi” you say as you turn around ignoring Liam calling your name over and over. The last sound you hear his him sobbing and a thud that sounds a lot like a body collapsing to the floor as you speed walk to your room.

Making sure no one is lurking in the halls ready to rip you to shreds means it takes longer to get to your room but eventually you get there collapsing on the floor immediately as you shut the door. Your room still smells of him making it harder to breathe. Funny, you think, not only 24 hours ago the man you loved led in the bed in front of you and now that bed is empty alongside your heart. Only one thought manages to keep you going as you prepare for bed.

‘I will kill Liam Mairi if it is the last thing I fucking do’

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Word count: 1900+

Warnings: none

Part XI | Part XIII

You were sitting in your room, breathing deeply. Even after Rhys left, whatever he did with the scent of magic it stayed like that. You were overjoyed with the feeling of not wanting to puke. Your headache and pain of limbs eased, too.

The garden outside the window plunged into darkness, it was past the dinner time. But you didn't move a bit. You were sitting like this since he left, thinking about the offer he made you. Memories, your past, faces of your parents, your childhood. Did you want it back? Would it fill that empty space in your heart and soul that you felt all those years you lived alone in the forest? Thousands of questions without answer swirled in your mind.

A soft knock sounded on your door. You ignored it, wanting to be alone. Rhysand said he would give you time to think things over, so it most likely wasn't him, but it could be his mate. Or even worse, your cousin Mor. You weren't in mood to listen to her ramblings.

The door opened and closed and few tendrils of the shadows wrapped around your hands, playing with your fingers. The room filled up with refreshing scent of cedar and mist. You waited for the wave of nausea to hit you, but nothing happened. Closing eyes you breathed in deeply and for a moment you were back in the forest. Tension from your shoulders disappeared.

Porcelain rattled against the wood. Tray with plates full of food appeared on a small table next to the armchair.

"Figured you must be hungry," a deep voice said lowly. Your head followed the sound. Azriel was standing behind the armchair, giving you a soft smile. His eyes of colour of warm honey shone even in the dark room. "Can I?" He gestured to the other armchair.

You nodded. Your heart again did strange things in your chest. You saw this male just several times during your stay here, but it was always the same. Surge of energy ran through your body, pinching your skin, your heart was jumping, racing and stumbling. Yet a sense of peace filled you. As odd as it was, he made you feel at home.

This was the third time you were alone with him, because usually you saw him only at a meal time. To be honest you would like to spend with him much more time than those short moments. You felt good in his presence and he never bothered you with rambling or stories of the past. He was rather a silent type. In a certain way he reminded you of Tamlin who also wasn't too talkative and enjoyed silent and peaceful moments. Your heart clenched painfully at that memory.

When Azriel introduced himself he said he was a spy of your brother, so you imagined he was quite busy. He often disappeared for several days. Azriel was also the first one to call you by your name. That was another reason you liked him.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

You searched for the answer, considering what you actually felt. "I think I'm confused. Uncertain.."

"About what?"

You rolled your eyes. "Don't pretend you haven't heard about it. I pretty sure that Rhysand informed all of you about the things we spoke today."

His lips pressed together for a second. "You are right. He did, but I'd rather hear it from you personally. And just so you know, he made sure the whole house and garden are stripped of magic, so you can leave this room, if you want." His voice was gentle. He always spoke like that with you.

Your eyes widened. "Why would he do something like that?"

"There's nothing he wouldn't do for you. You are his baby sister and he loves you dearly." His posture and gaze was communicating similar emotions. You didn't know how, but you knew, Azriel would do just as much for you if not more.

A lump rose in your throat and tears filled your eyes. Suddenly you felt really bad for everything you told to Rhysand earlier and that you basically accused him of drugging you with who-knows-what medicines.

Azriel reached out, caressing you cheek. "Y/N, hey. You okay?" he cooed softly.

Without thinking you leaned into his touch. "I was quite harsh with him earlier.. well, the whole time.."

He chuckled. "No need to feel bad for that. He will survive. His ego is too big to be hurt by that. Also he is used to get a cold shoulder from you."

His laugh was so contagious you smiled, too. For some reason you felt special to witness it. You didn't know where the feeling came from, too. It seemed that your heart remembered more that your head.

He pushed the tray closer to you. "Try to eat something before the food gets cold. You will feel better with full tummy."

Tummy. What a ridiculous word coming from lips of a male like him. It was too sensual. It made your insides throbbing with.. could it be lust? It was hard to name it as you had never experienced anything like that except of that last evening with Tamlin.

Pushing those feelings and thoughts to the back, you eyed the plates. There was a lot of vegetables, some meat and fruits. All your favourite ones. You had to admit that he was really good at his job. He noticed even the smallest details. You blushed when your stomach growled loudly. Your eyes darted to him half expecting to find him laughing his head off, but Azriel pretended he didn't hear anything, merely smiling at you encouragingly.

You picked up a strawberry and took a bite. As the sweetness filled your mouth you closed eyes and sighed softly.

"You haven't changed," Azriel muttered amused.

You raised a brow in surprise, looking at him.

"You always loved the strawberries so much that one could feel its taste just by watching you eat them," he explained. He looked so.. gentle.

Your heart made a somersault in the chest picking up on speed, breath caught in your throat. There was another certain feeling you couldn't name, but it was close to what you felt when Tamlin smiled at you, teased you or when he played the fiddle for you. It kind of hurt, yet it was sweet. Just like the strawberry you ate.

Swallowing hard you took a fork and tried to concentrate on the food. It was quite a hard task.

Azriel silently watched you eating. Strangely you didn't mind it at all. When you finished, you pulled the knees to your chest and looked out the window. The garden was so dark you hardly recognised the shapes of trees and bushes, Sidra flowing behind the garden reflected the lights of the city on the opposite bank. And above that all, the stars twinkled, shining brighter than you'd ever seen them.

"Have you thought about Rhys' offer?" Azriel asked suddenly, his eyes never leaving your face.

"M-hm," you grunted. "That's why I'm so confused. I don't know if I want it."

"Why? What's stopping you?"

You silently watched the night sky for a moment, gathering your thoughts. "It's like.. I don't know.. I'm afraid who I would be after finding out who I was before. That I could lose myself."

"I don't think you would. If there's something you have in common with Rhys, it's strength. I've noticed it back then and I see it in you even now. There aren't many who could live through what you did."

Your cheeks burned. "But what if I change?" you mumbled barely audible.

"Believe it or not, you haven't changed that much," he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. "With memories or without them, it's up to you who you will be, but no matter how you change it will still be you." And we will love you nonetheless. He didn't say that, but he didn't have to. It was in each word he spoke.

This male was strange. In a good way of course. It only took him a few minutes to make you feel better, lighter, to make a part of your worries disappear. You felt good with him. You only knew him for a short time, yet you could open up and talk to him about anything.

"I'm scared to remember. I don't know it for sure, but .. I think there are some memories that should remain forgotten.."

Azriel nodded. "If you want, Rhysand could try to revive just a small amount of memories at a time. You can stop any time, he won't push you to continue."

"Really? Do you think he would..?" You were surprised. When Rhysand told you he could bring the memories back, you imagined it would be all at once. You didn't know he could do it in small amounts.

Azriel raised a brow. "Of course he would. As I said he'd do anything for you."

That gave you something new to think about. By the time Azriel bid you a goodnight and left taking the tray with him, you had made up your mind. Afraid you could change your decision until the morning, you decided to look for Rhysand and tell him right away.

You went down the stairs and to the sitting room, but all lights were already turned off. In your hurry you didn't notice what time it was. With little hope you headed to his office. You stopped in front of the doors and listened. It was quiet inside. Thinking he had already gone to sleep, you turned around. You made only three steps into a hall when the office doors opened.

"Y/N?" Rhysand sounded tired. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

You turned to him, suddenly uncertain what to tell him. All courage you had just few moments ago, had left you. "I-.."

"Come in," he opened the doors wider.

You stepped in and looked around. You hadn't been in this room yet. Air was filled with smell of old parchment. Walls were covered with shelves full of books. There were several armchairs and sofas, so all members of his family could attend a meeting here. The room was dominated by large desk with two big windows behind it. There between the windows a painting of Feyre was hanged.

You smiled. "You love her a lot."

Rhysand stood next to you, looking at the same painting. "I do. She is my mate, my everything. I waited for her for 500 years. Some day I will tell you how we met. You'll like it," he smirked.

He gestured to the one of the armchairs in front of the desk and you sat down. He leaned against the desk, watching you with a smile, waiting.

You fidgeted nervously and cleared your throat. You couldn't stand the kind look of his violet-blue eyes, so you gazed down on your intertwined fingers.

"I-.. I talked with Azriel and.. I would like to accept your offer."

Rhysand's smile widened. "I'm happy to hear that." He watched you closely, tilting his head to the side. "But?"

You breathed out shakily. "Azriel told me you could return my memories in small amounts. I-.. I'm still not sure if I want to remember everything that happened to me.. I-"

His big hands landed on yours, squeezing them gently. "It's okay. We can stop whenever you want. I promise."

You shot up, tears stinging your eyes. Before you knew what you were doing, you hugged him. Rhysand stiffened for a heartbeat, but then his arms wrapped around you.

"Thank you," you whispered into his shoulder. He answered by running his hand up and down your back, rubbing it lovingly.

"If you want we can start tomorrow. What do you think?"

"I'd like that."

That night you slept peacefully, without nightmares.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal

[aspoonofsugar]

Lucifer: Dreams of Redemption

Lucifer is my favourite Hazbin Hotel character, so here comes a meta about him, his arc and the themes he is tied with.

OVERTURE

"The Story of Hell" tells us plenty about Lucifer by introducing his character and preparing his story. In particular, it sets up two key themes in his arc:

Redemption

Dreams

ADAM AND EVE (REDEMPTION)

Lucifer is tied to redemption, as his and Lilith's story is basically a revisitation of Adam and Eve's.

As a matter of fact the original Eden's myth goes more or less like this.

There is a man:

Then a woman appears:

And the two fall in love:

Charlie: Drawn in by her fierce independence, Lucifer found her and the two rebellious dreamers fell deeply in love.

They are happy together, but are forbidden to get involved with a strange fruit. They disobey, evil is born and the couple is punished and fall:

Adam and Eve are banished from Eden. Lucifer and Lilith are forced into Hell. It is the same story, but the rebellious couple offers the fruit instead of eating it themselves. The basic meaning doesn't change, though. The two lovers make a mistake, which spirals into a disaster. Adam and Eve are asked to pursue goodness, so that they can be forgiven. What should Lucifer and Lilith do to gain redemption? When it comes to the Devil, his path forward lies in dreams.

LIGHT AND FIRE (DREAMS)

Lucifer is a dreamer:

Charlie: He was a dreamer with fantastical ideas for all of creation.

Who grows into a cynic:

Charlie: Ashamed, Lucifer lost his will to dream.

Interestingly, this change of heart is conveyed through Lucifer's light turning into fire. He gives up on dreams and goes from angel (light) to demon (fire). This thematically frames Lucifer's moral fall as a consequence of his loss of hope. So, it makes sense that his "redemption" will be about rediscovering dreams. Still, what kinds of dreams should he focus on?

Charlie: As punishment for their reckless act, Heaven cast Lucifer and his love into the dark pit he had created, never allowing him to see the good that came from humanity, only the cruel and the wicked.

In Hell, Lucifer stops seeing the good in people. His current challenge is then to find goodness in others again. Specifically, he must better understand:

Charlie (microchosm)

The sinners (macrochosm)

ALL OF THE OTHER REINDEER

Both Charlie and the sinners share similarities with Lucifer. In particular:

Like her father, Charlie is an outcast in her own kingdom. In his younger days, Lucifer is a seraphim, who believes in free will against a world built on order and rules. In the present day, Charlie is a royal demon, who believes in redemption, despite a world full of chaos and violence.

Like their king, the sinners made mistakes, which landed them in Hell. The sinners are violent and selfish, so they are given a world of destructive chaos. Lucifer gives humans free will, so he is presented with the negative consequences of his gift.

Lucifer is like Charlie and the sinners, but he acts towards them like the Elders of Heaven:

Charlie: However, he was seen as a troublemaker by the elders of Heaven. For they felt his way of thinking was dangerous to the order of their world.

Lucifer: Alright, I mean, look, I love that you want to see the best in people, but these sinners, you know, they're just the worst. I, I don't know how much you can realistically expect from them.

This behavior has to do with Lucifer's own sin and banishment. He can't believe in himself anymore, so he doesn't believe in Charlie. He doesn't forgive himself, so he doesn't forgive the sinners. In short, he is projecting his unsolved feelings on both his daughter and his subjects. What the King of Hell is missing, though, is this:

Rosie: Hey, who down here isn't (flawed)?

His Kingdom isn't a place for perfect people, but for flawed ones. Still, it is precisely because everyone there is a loser that they have the potential to understand each other:

Angel Dust: You're a loser, baby Husk: A loser, but just maybe if we Both: Eat shit together, things will end up differently

This is true for the Big Boss of Hell himself, as it is highlighted by two motifs:

The Ugly Duckling in relation to his bond with Charlie

The circus when it comes to his relationship with Hell as a whole

Both are tied to loneliness and creativity. Still, they explore these ideas from different angles.

THE UGLY DUCKLING= FATHER AND DAUGHTER

The Ugly Duckling is about a small duck, who is refused by his peers because different and ugly. Once he matures, though, he is revealed to be a beautiful swan, who flies away victorious. This fairy tale is alluded to in Lucifer and Charlie's flashback, as he conjures a light show for her. As a matter of fact the protagonist of Lucifer's short stage play is a small duck, who becomes a shining seraphim-swan.

How does this symbolism tie to the themes of loneliness and creativity?

Loneliness- Lucifer is seen as weird by the other angels, who do not understand his way of thinking. He dreams of proving himself, so that they will accept him. At the same time, his own situation is a tragic inversion of Andersen's fairy tale. The Ugly Duckling is a duck, who takes flight as a swan. Lucifer instead is a seraphim, who falls as a demon. The Ugly Duckling finds a new family of swans, whereas Lucifer loses his family of angels.

Creativity- Lucifer tells Charlie his past in the form of a fairy-tale and gives it a happy ending. This short interaction shows how Lucifer is using fiction and creativity to handle his trauma. He channels his sadness into creation. Still, as the years go by, Lucifer's creative drive grows weaker:

In the present day, he is stuck building rubber ducks he himself dislikes (aka ugly ducklings). Not only that, but Lucifer's disdain for his creations hints to some self-hate issues:

Lucifer: That's it… Almost there… Now presenting… the magic-tastical back flipping rubber duck! Haha! That spits fire! Hoo hoo hoo! Hold the applause please, okay. Oh, thank you, thank you. Oh god, who am I kidding? This sucks!

The magic-tastical back flipping rubber duck that spits fire sucks. Still, Lucifer himself is a fire-spiting ducky:

In other words, Lucifer feels he himself sucks. He is an ugly duckling that can never become a swan. He is stuck as a duck. Why is that so? It's because Lucifer finds himself in a vicious cycle, where his loneliness and his loss of creativity are intertwined.

As he loses hope, Lucifer becomes less and less able to dream and create. This provokes more self-loathing, which leads to Lucifer cutting off his loved ones:

Charlie: No, we just have never been close. After he and mom split, he never really wanted to see me. He calls, sometimes, but only if he's bored or like needs me to do something.

How can he escape this situation? His only way out is to stop hyper-focusing on himself and to earnestly look at others. Starting with Charlie:

When I was young, I didn't really know you at all. I always felt so small. But I heard your stories and I was enthralled. The tales about your lofty dreams. I listened breathlessly. Imagining it could be me. So in the end, it's the view I had of you, that showed me dreams can be worth fighting for.

When Charlie is a child, Lucifer tells her a story about himself, his pain and his hopes. Charlie makes this story hers. She sees herself as the ugly duckling, who will one day fly free and shine at the centre of the universe. Charlie takes Lucifer's painful past and plans her own happy future. She imagines her story as a wonderful conclusion to his. Lucifer desperately needs to see this story play out. He needs it to heal and dream again. And yet, to have it, he must first accept that he himself isn't Charlie and that Charlie isn't him:

Charlie: Dad, I don't need you to protect me from this. Lucifer: I just don't want you to be crushed by them like… like I was.

He projects his failures on his daughter and opposes Charlie's dream out of fear. In this way, he forces Charlie to live a life she herself hasn't chosen. He keeps seeing himself as the main character, but Charlie is the protagonist of her own existence. She is free to write her own narrative, which might end up differently from Lucifer's. He may be the Ugly Duckling, but she will become the Beautiful Swan.

CIRCUS FREAKS = KING AND PEOPLE

The Circus is a key motif for the Hellaverse as a whole. As a matter of fact Hell is divided in seven Rings ruled by the Seven Deadly Sins that embody different circus acts. So, basically, Hell itself is a giant circus, which is why this form of enterteinment is very popular among demons. Still, it all starts with Lucifer, who used to be the Ringmaster of the sins' original circus troupe. In other words, Lucifer himself modelled Hell after the circus.

Why is that so? And how does this imagery fit with the ideas of loneliness and creativity?

Loneliness- Lucifer is the Showrunner of the greatest Freak Show of the universe. This is one of the meanings the circus metaphor stands for:

Adam: Okay, seriously! How many of you freaks do I have to fight?!

Adam: No… you (Lucifer) don't get to end this! I'm fucking Adam! I'm the fucking man, and you're just some fucking clown or something!

Hell is full of people, who failed in some way. All the sinners and demons are strange, chaotic and imperfect. They are outcasts the world belittles and refuses. They find themselves in Hell. Lonely together.

Creativity- Three-ring circus is a circus with three acts going on at the same time. On a metaphorical level, it indicates a chaotic situation. Well, Hell is a seven-ring circus. It is chaos taken up to eleven, but it is also the greatest show in all of creation. Lucifer is at the centre of it, which makes him the Greatest Showman. This is highlighted also by the King of Hell's preferred business. After all, among his known activities there are:

Its previous shows with the Seven Deadly Sins' Troupe

A theme park called LuLu World

An App similar to Ticketmaster, which is called Lucimaster

Hotels, like the decadent one Charlie uses for her project

These are all businesses linked one way or another to the enterteinment industry. Isn't it strange that the King of Hell has no control over a more strategic part of the economy, like industry, banks or health? Not at all because the enterteinment industry is the most important deal in Hell (thematically). And yet, there is another sin, who is pretty active in this business:

Mammon, the King of Greed, owns his Theme Park, organizes his own shows and even has a clown pageant to find testimonials for his brand. This probably happens as a consequence of Lucifer's depression, which lets him vulnerable to Mammon's attempts to steal Lucifer's ideas:

Octavia: Is it true this park is just a really shameless spin-off of Lucifer's far more popular Lu Lu World?

This detail is interesting because it shows Lucifer is slowly losing control of his own Kingdom. In fact, even his own area of domain is being threathened. This is not surprising, though, because Lucifer himself isn't really trying to be a good ruler. Or a ruler at all, to be honest. As a matter of fact he is shown pretty passive, when it comes to Hell and its people. Not only that, but he openly despises sinners:

Lucifer: Our "people" Charlie, are awful! They got gifted free will and look what they did with it! Everything's terrible!

Still, this is just Lucifer projecting his frustrations and self-loathing on his people. He unconsciously sees their failures, as his own failure. However, he refuses to rationalize it and consciously insists that his family should stand above the rest:

Lucifer: Mhm, you see? What'd I tell you? Charlie, sinners are violent psychopaths, hell bent on causing as much pain and destruction as they can. There's really no point in trying.

By doing this, Lucifer can't be the King of Hell because he is too disconnected from others. This makes him unable to empathize with his people and to create new dreams for them to enjoy. At the same time, this condemns him to isolation with really no-one he can relate to. He is stuck in his own head both when it comes to creativity and to emotional development. In order to move on, he should come down from his pedestal and realize that he can find companionship in his people. He too is in Hell. He too is a sinner. He too is a circus freak.

DAD-HONCHO LUCIFER

Lucifer's first step towards redemption and hope is to leave his studyroom (his own head) and to connect with the people around him. Specifically, he must be:

A better father (microchosm)

A better king (macrochosm)

In season 1, he moves in this direction and his journey is highlighted by 3 key moments:

-In episode 1, Lucifer doesn't appear, but he still kicks off the plot by setting up Charlie and Adam's meeting. By doing so, he fails both as a father and as a king. As a father, he doesn't offer any emotional support to Charlie after Extermination Day. As a king, he refuses to meet a Heaven Ambassador. Basically, he pushes all his political responsibilities on Charlie without giving her any assistance.

-In episode 5, Lucifer makes some progress by accepting to get Charlie a meeting with Heaven. Once again, he has Charlie face Heaven in his stead. However, this time he does so out of trust for her and her project. He starts supporting Charlie and seeing hope for his people. Still, he doesn't get directly involved:

Lucifer: Ok, I can get you the meeting but once you're in Heaven, I won't be able to go with you. Will you be ok?

-In episode 8, Lucifer does what he should have done since the beginning. He confronts Adam, defeats him and ends the exterminations. By doing this, he protects Charlie as a father and saves his people as a king. Not only that, but Lucifer also offers Charlie the emotional support he initially negates her:

Lucifer: Come on little lady, why the frown? In the last 10,000 years You're the first one to change this town You can do this, now I know it! For your story has just begun You can't quit now. Hell, you owe it! There's still damage to be undone You've changed my mind, you've touched their hearts Found the good in souls gone bad The stage is wrecked, the crowd is gone But by God, Charlie! The show, it must go on!

And he helps her and the group rebuild the Hotel. In this way, he starts openly supporting Charlie's ideals of redemption:

Everyone: Twice the bedrooms, we can fill it Lucifer: With more sinners than you can dream!

By the end, he is shown closer to both his daughter and her found family of sinners:

And he finds his creative drive again:

Lucifer: A remedial creation fom me! It's as easy as can be!

Interestingly, after the battle Lucifer loses his coat, which gives him a rather formal and dignified image. He appears more casual, just as he joins the group and works together with them.

Dreams through redemption and redemption through dreams. This is the basic idea of Lucifer's arc, which is centered around Charlie (microchosm) and the Hazbin Hotel (macrochosm). What do these two things represent for the King of Hell?

CHARLIE, THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT

Charlie is Lucifer's dream:

You didn't know that when I tried this all before My dreams were too hard to defend And in the end, I won't lose it all again Now you're the only thing worth fighting for More than anything, more than anything I'll shelter and adore you more than anything

After losing everything, he gives up on his ambitions regarding the macrochosm and focuses on the microchosm. He can't save humanity, but he can protect his daughter. He can't be a king, but he can be a father. And yet, this isn't the case because Charlie herself wants to get involved with the macrochosm. She doesn't want to be sheltered forever. So, to be a good father, Lucifer must step into the world again:

Lucifer: I'll support your dream, whatever lies in store

In this way, Charlie comes to embody Lucifer's ideals in two ways.

She is Lucifer's daughter, so she is the hope every child is to their parent. She is a small personal dream, when compared to his past ambitions of grandeur.

She is the embodyment of Lucifer (and Lilith)'s old dream:

Lucifer: I've been dyin' to find out who you are Looks like the apple doesn't fall far

Charlie is the apple that doesn't fall far. This means that she is her parents' daughter and shares their ideals. It also means that she herself is the fruit her parents gifted humanity with. After all, she is the fruit of a forbidden love. Not only that, but Overture sets up a very clear foiling:

The Fruit of Knowledge corrupts humanity, but Charlie will save it. Not the apple, but Charlie is the true magic of free will. A person born from a love story, which shouldn't have happened. A child free from her parents' sins. A woman whose name "Charlie" means "free man". Truly a beautiful synthesis of Lucifer and Lilith. A powerful embodyment of their deepest dreams. Still, how is Charlie going to free humanity? Simple, she will do so while pursuing her own dream.

THE HAZBIN HOTEL, A SECOND CHANCE

The Hazbin Hotel is Charlie's dream:

Charlie: I have a dream, I'm here to tell About a wonderful, fantastic new hotel Yes, it's one of a kind, right here in Hell Catering to a specific clientele

It is an impossible and lofty dream, which aims to change the laws of the universe (macrochosm). At the same time, it is a dream rooted in Charlie's personal desire to belong somewhere (microchosm). It is her interpretation of Lucifer and Lilith's legacy:

Charlie: But Lilith's hope remained. And her dream passed down to their precious daughter, the Princess of Hell.

In a sense, it is the evolution of Lucifer's old dream, as it is rooted in the belief human souls can choose goodness. Even after death:

Charlie: Don't you care, Sera? That just because someone is dead, it doesn't Mean they can't resolve to change their ways Turn the page, escape infernal blaze

This is precisely why Charlie uses an old hotel that belongs to Lucifer for her project. It is an unconscious attempt to bring both her parents and their dream back. This duality is well conveyed by the hotel's name:

Hazbin Hotel = a place where you can leave your past self behind and be reborn. A temporary house, where to find hospitality and redemption

Hazbin Hotel = something that used to be a hotel, as it is a crumbling building. It is symbolic of Lucifer himself. A person and a dream in ruins. An empty shell of his past self

So, the Hazbin Hotel is a place where to be reborn. This is true for both the sinners and Lucifer. It is a new dream rooted in another one as old as Earth. It is humanity and Lucifer's second chance.

FROM SHAME TO PRIDE

Lucifer starts the series full of shame. He is ashamed of himself. He is ashamed of his subjects. He is so ashamed Charlie is convinced he is ashamed of her too. Still, the Princess of Hell is determined to make her family proud:

Charlie: Don't worry, Mom. I'll make you proud.

This means that Charlie will become Lucifer's pride. This is set up also by the juxtaposition of Lucifer's two songs in episode 5.

Hell's Greatest Dad is an exhibition of selfish pride: Lucifer shows off his power to impress Charlie. He doesn't consider Charlie's wishes, but is focused on his own insecurities. This is made clear by how he keeps self-duplicating throughout the song. Lucifer's imaginary world is full of his many selves:

More Than Anything is a showcase of selfless pride: Lucifer opens up to Charlie and listens to her. Thanks to this, he creates a pocket dimension made for Charlie. This imaginary world is the Ugly Duckling with Charlie as its protagonist. Lucifer has her play with water, like the little duckling, and fly at the centre of the scene, like the swan:

Lucifer stops putting himself in the spotlight and gives it to Charlie. He goes from a selfish pride broken by shame to a selfless pride empowered by love. He leaves behind a negative manifestation of his sin to embrace a positive declination of it. This is coherent with the other sins seen so far:

Asmodeus, King of Lust, believes that lust is an art to be enjoyed by both partners and is against coercion and sexual violence. Thanks to his bond with Fizzarolli, his healthy lust blossoms into romantic love.

Beelzebub, Queen of Gluttony, enjoys sharing alcohol and food with her community, so that they can indulge into gluttony together. She gains pleasure from her subjects' fun and feels bad when they are down. Basically, she is an empath, who is very sensitive to others' emotions.

Interestingly, Mammon, King of Greed, is the only sin so far with no positive declination. This isn't because greed can't ever be portrayed positively (look at Greed in FMA), but rather because Mammon exhibits no form of selfless love. As a matter of fact love is the force that mitigates and redeems sins:

Romantic love (Asmodeus)

Community love (Beelzebub)

Familial love (Lucifer)

So, our King of Hell is going to overcome his internalized shame thanks to the pride he feels for Charlie. He is gonna deal with his depression through love. This brings us to two conclusions/predictions when it comes to Lucifer and Charlie's bond:

Charlie is going to inherit the Pride Ring. Why shouldn't she? She is the one fighting for the sinners' sake and she is the embodyment of Lucifer's pride. She would be perfect as Queen of Pride.

Lucifer is gonna realize his masterpiece is Charlie herself. She is his greatest accomplishment and creation, who will lead everyone to a freer and better life.

Lucifer means light bringer because he brought to life Charlie as the brightest light and dream:

She is both his dream and his redemption.

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part VI

Find Part I here :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge, huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who literally deserves all the credit and whose post inspired me to start writing this. I could not stop thinking about this head canon, and it was so kind of you to let me try and make a story from it :)

And a huge thank you to everyone reading!

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole

Part VII >>

Elain held tightly to Lucien’s arm, her fingers linked with his, her other hand clutching at his wrist. An anchor, his heartbeat a comfort as they were led down the winding halls of the ancient Forest House. 

Lucien looked entirely unbothered, hardly troubled now that he was no longer in the presence of his family. Elain asked herself how, considering she very much felt as though she had woken from a nightmare. Her thoughts were foggy, her knees shaking in relief with every one of her steps. Elain wanted to sob. 

Lucien’s thumb traced the curve of her knuckle and Elain breathed in deeply to calm her nerves. 

It was almost humiliating, being paraded past the Autumn guards stationed at every corner as she clung to Lucien. She had to remind herself that it was expected of mated couples to behave so attached, that she was not amongst human nobles that would judge her for any open affection that was displayed. 

Elain briefly wondered what Cora had done in her absence, and whether the other woman had been made aware of the change in their plans. Elain’s thoughts turned quickly, though, to what her sisters would say. Elain was sure that Nesta, more than Feyre, would be furious. 

Elain assumed she would have the Inner Circle’s complete support, but she could only guess at their displeasure with how the night had unfolded. 

Elain had told a High Lord that she was marrying his son, and she was only just beginning to realise the weight of such a promise. Elain felt her stomach flip, panic starting to creep along her spine. 

Just when Elain’s anxiety started to take root, Lucien’s hand gripped hers more tightly. Elain felt as he tried to reassure her through the bond, and her annoyance was enough to redirect her thoughts. 

The Forest House was strange and unlike any place she had ever been to. The rough stone walls were a warm grey, closer to the colour of sheep’s wool than to the cool toned rock she had become used to in Night. 

Elain was surprised to see all the wooden furniture considering all the torches, flames dancing and sparks falling but never setting anything alight. She walked by a couple elegant fireplaces set into the walls, but she saw no chimneys, no soot or ashes. 

Like the roots of an ancient tree, hallways connected and split off into different directions, an unnavigable maze. Elain wondered how anyone was able to find their way around. 

One of the guards shoved Lucien towards a flight of stone steps, urging him to turn. Elain frowned when she felt him tense, thinking perhaps he had been offended by the gesture. It was only as a voice rang out beside them that Elain guessed Lucien had scented someone’s presence. 

“Your services are no longer needed,” the words were rough, a demand. “I can take the prince and his lady to their shared suite from here.” 

Much to Elain’s surprise, the guards obeyed. In the time it took for them to leave, Elain had turned her attention to the new arrival.  

The man was handsome, Elain could admit. His short hair a more copper shade of red, his eyes a bright hazel. He was pale, like most of the people she had seen in Autumn, and he looked battle-worn. A slashing scar cut across his throat, just visible above the fabric of his jacket. 

Even if Elain had not just been in a room with Beron Vanserra, she would have still been able to see the resemblance between the High Lord and the man who so obviously was another one of his sons. She took a step beck, knocking into Lucien’s side. 

The man raised a brow, but other than a passing glance, he paid her no mind. His focus was on Lucien, the torches on the wall flared. Elain wondered if that always happened, if flames simply responded to those in Autumn, a reflection of their emotions.

“Where’s Eris?” He snapped, like he had no patience for either her or Lucien. 

Her mate’s shoulders were stiff. “Is the loyal dog looking for its master?” Lucien’s drawl was taunting, as though he was expecting a reaction from his brother. His words were obviously meant to offend.

Elain could feel Lucien’s shock flooding the bond between them when his brother merely shook his head. 

“You always did cause so much trouble, Lucien,” he frowned, looking very much like Eris. With a sigh, he angled his chin to the flight of stairs in front of them. “Follow me.” 

Not like they had a choice, Elain thought. She could feel as Lucien turned to look at her, to check in, but she stared at his brother as he led them to a pair of thick oak doors. His attempt to comfort her was appreciated, but Elain truly thought she could not look at him without her anxiety once more taking hold. With a wave of his brother’s beringed hand, the doors opened to reveal a cosy space. 

The fireplace was already lit, comfortable carpets covered the stone floor, and by the arched window on the room’s other side was a large bed, fit for two. Elain blushed, forgetting for a moment that Lucien and her were to be married, of course their shared suite would have only one bed. 

Elain watched as Lucien’s brother waved his hand once again, this time lighting the candles littered on some of the wooden tables and nightstands. “I hope the rooms have been set to your liking. Should you need anything, let one of the guards know.”

Elain spoke for the first time since having left the throne room, “My lady’s maid was with me, I was wondering…” She trailed off, unsure of what to say next. 

“I’ll let Eris know,” the Autumn prince offered. “I’m sure he’s thought of everything.” There was no bitterness to his words, only an acknowledgement of his eldest brother’s very thorough planning.

Elain dipped her head in thanks, but he had already begun to leave. Elain looked to Lucien as he watched his brother warily, and he hardly seemed surprised when the other man paused at the room’s threshold. 

“Congratulations to the both of you on your engagement,” he said flippantly, over his shoulder. Elain could hear a flicker of doubt in his tone, perhaps a suggestion that he was not entirely convinced by their act. She wondered if Eris had mentioned it to him, if they were close enough to have shared such information. 

Elain noticed the irritation that flashed in Lucien’s eye, how the other one whirred. “Thank you, Callum.” 

It was clear to Elain that there was bad blood between the brothers, and while she was curious, Elain also knew that it would probably be very rude to ask Lucien about it. She watched as Callum left, glad that she no longer needed to play the role she had given herself.  

The doors slammed shut behind the Autumn prince, and Elain promptly let go of Lucien’s hand. She already missed the feeling, but to reach for him would be like an admission of how she so often longed for his touch when he was near. She put distance between them, almost tripping on the edge of the carpet in her rush. 

“Gods,” she mumbled, running her fingers through her curls. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Lucien’s scent, apples and summer mornings, lingered in the air. 

What have I done? 

Elain decided that she was a fool for coming to Autumn. She had no idea what she had gotten herself into, had been so desperate to save Lucien’s life that she had doomed them both. 

When Elain opened her eyes, she saw Lucien flexing his fingers, like the memory of her hand in his was enough to unsettle him. He had dark bruises along his jaw, clenched in what she thought was concern. There were blood stains, brown and aged, along the collar of his white shirt. A smear of dirt was on his temple and Elain could tell he had been treated poorly until she had come. 

Lucien was still the loveliest man Elain had ever seen, and she hated herself for believing it.  

“How in the hell did Feyre convince you to come for me?” Lucien asked, voice tired, like his own thoughts were weighing him down. 

Elain furrowed her brow, frowning at him. “Feyre?” She echoed, incredulous. 

At her question Lucien seemed to anger, only for a moment, before he spoke once more. “Rhysand, then, made you do this?” 

“No one made me do anything,” Elain hissed, keeping her voice down, remembering how careful Eris was with his words even when they had been alone. “I came for you because I chose to.” She was frustrated, angry that everyone assumed she could not make decisions for herself. It was with great effort that she kept her hands at her sides, that she did not begin pointing at Lucien with an accusing finger. 

“Why would you do such a thing?” Confusion and disbelief lingering in his words. 

“Because I felt like it,” she snapped, feeling very much like a child. Elain did not share with him that after so much death, so much change in the last few years, she did not think she could bear more. “And you should be thanking me, not questioning my motives.” 

Elain watched as he bent ever so slightly at the waist, the smallest of bows. He did not take his eyes off her as he said, “You have my thanks, Elain.” 

At the sound of her name falling from Lucien’s lips, Elain took a step towards him, the movement almost involuntary. “You shouldn’t call me that,” the impropriety of it all had Elain blushing, she attempted to tell herself that was why she could feel her heartbeat quicken. “You don’t have the right—”

“I think I do,” Lucien said with a shrug, “considering we’re about to be married.” 

It looked like he wanted to say more, but Elain interrupted. “It means nothing,” she was shocked at how snarled the last word was. “Nothing has changed between us,” her words held a finality to them.

Lucien ran a hand through his hair, “Not for one moment did I believe otherwise.” He sounded exhausted, Elain noticed. 

Briefly, Elain felt guilty for being upset with him.

Lucien shook his head, and as he spoke he did not look at her. “You shouldn’t have come to Autumn.” Elain could not say it with certainty, but she could have sworn fear leaked slowly down their shared bond. 

“Next time I’ll let you be killed,” Elain waved her hand dismissively. “What’s done is done, I can hardly tell your father I’ve changed my mind.” 

“I think we’re well past that,” Lucien confirmed. The silence between them was awkward, and Elain wished they had separate rooms, despite knowing it was for the best that they were together.

She could feel Lucien’s gaze on her, but Elain was looking at the comfortable armchair by the fireplace. She cleared her throat, “You take the bed.” 

Lucien did not argue with her, a testament to how utterly drained he must have been, Elain concluded. 

“Thank you, Elain,” he said softly, sincerely.

Elain was left with the impression that Lucien was thanking her for more than just the bed.

[goingbuggy]

thank you, you’re the best. I will keep it short.

I wrote this to someone because I disagree with shuggy being great story in canon. But I thought longer and it turned out into more thoughts. First I do enjoy shuggy. I like them more as brothers and I like crocbug more. But I do like shuggy art sometimes.

Most of the story of shuggy is buggy being constantly angry at shanks. Every scene is just him being bitter, while shanks is chill. He’s angry because he’s not like shanks and blames himself for it. But shanks can’t help with that. It’s not abusive but you know how some DC fan are saying how joker is not harley LI but her origin story? I think it’s shuggy. Shanks is buggy begging. The have this bond but it’s over and not useful. What is left is buggy obsession which has to end. It’s without shanks reaction.

And both of those characters have more interesting and impactful relationships with other characters around them. Mostly shanks. He has people around him that are not jealous of him and are EQUAL. And buggy been replaced I think on purpose. Benn Beckman is there to be this close support that buggy could never be. Mihawk is rival, like buggy was in younger years but he’s meaningful to challenge shanks with respect and push him forward. Both of them make shanks better and fill those roles buggy couldn’t.

Buggy is just starting his bonds. He now has cross guild. And we know they’re gonna be for buggy in the future.

What do you think? I read OP many times and I think it does make sense and that is how the story will go. But you can call me out if you disagree. I respect you.

Woah, this is a long one! I just want to say, firstly, that you are entitled to your interpretations of Shanks and Buggy's relationship. However, I think you are going about this in a strange way. A bond is not measured by its usefulness, and claiming that Buggy has been "replaced" shows that you are viewing their dynamic from a distanced, almost utilitarian perspective; this isn't wrong, per se, but you are talking about characters who are meant to be people. And most people are irrational, emotional creatures who don't view their friendships as something profitable or disadvantageous. Buggy cannot be replaced by anyone, because Buggy is not a role to be filled in Shanks' life. Buggy was always just Buggy to Shanks. They were not friends because they only saw each other as useful. I think their interactions during the Wano flashback show that pretty clearly.

To address your point about Shanks and Buggy not being equals, though, I think this is a topic Oda has intentionally laid out, as it directly relates to Buggy's narrative. Buggy is someone who yearns to be seen as an equal -- just look at his reaction in Marineford when Whitebeard addresses him. (The blush is so cute, lmao.)

Buggy's insecurities are also the reason I believe he chose not to follow Shanks; my post here elaborates, but to sum it up neatly, Buggy immediately assumed he'd be working "under" Shanks, when Shanks only asked for Buggy to stay by his side. I truly think Shanks has always viewed Buggy as his equal -- it's just a matter of Buggy realizing that.

At this point in the story, they are more balanced than ever: both emperors with massive influence, albeit in different ways. As Buggy says himself, they are "on equal footing again." So, when you say their relationship has been unequal in parts, I don't disagree -- but that's not a flaw. That's intentional. It's an explicit aspect of the way their dynamic is written. It's a major source of their miscommunication.

Cross Guild is also currently a relationship in Buggy's life, but we don't exactly know where it's going. I would absolutely love it if Mihawk and Crocodile began to believe in Buggy and support him -- mostly because it would be hilarious -- but as of now, it is nowhere near a genuine bond. It is strictly business, and ironically, deeply unequal in terms of power dynamics. Buggy has only flipped the script on them recently, starting in chapter 1082, so we have to wait and see how that progresses.

At the end of the day, it's your opinion -- you can view Buggy's relationship with Shanks as uninteresting, and that's totally fine! But the lens with which you view their dynamic could use some adjusting. Your complaints stem from personal tastes, not fundamental problems with Shanks and Buggy's narrative.

[tsukimefuku]

The morning after is still last night

After last night, you and Higuruma share a brief pillow talk.

Tags: Jujutsu Kaisen, mentions of sex, Higuruma x f!reader, this is fluff.

WC: 800

This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU", a sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a Nanami x f!reader x Higuruma fanfic I'll eventually write (eventually). This is the sequence to "The man who played with fire", link here. To see the ever-growing list of one-shots, please visit my masterlist :)

Disclaimer: they’re NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

Higuruma was awakened by the faint stream of light that bled through the curtains and projected onto his face delicately. He was coming to his senses slowly, and realized he was still naked under the bedsheets. Looking by his side, he saw you laying down with your back facing him. He smiled discreetly, realizing you had spent the night — Higuruma was unsure if you’d do so, given you were prone to avoidance, overall.

Examining your back solely with his eyes, he noticed a prominent scar right in the middle, over your spine. It was oval-shaped, and it extended in a straight line to the right side of your back, stopping abruptly. It seemed to have been done by a blade of some sort. Before he realized, his fingers were caressing over it, pulling you gently awake.

“Hey,” you cooed, rolling on your side to face him, “good morning.”

“Good morning.” Higuruma answered, gazing at you before putting his hand over your cheek. “It seems you slept here.”

You smiled at him, putting your hand over his. “I didn’t feel like going back home in the middle of the night.” You also wanted to spend some more time with Higuruma, but spared that detail. You were starting to feel somewhat guilty, like you had used him the night prior. No need to dig this deeper, you thought.

“I’m glad you stayed. I wish I had something to offer for breakfast, but I’m not the great domestic type of person. There isn’t anything in my fridge other than yesterday’s beer.” He answered, blatantly not embarrassed at all.

You chuckled lightly. “There might be an old lemon half. You never know, Higuruma.”

His expression became slightly saddened. “I know the sun is already out, but last night isn’t over until we’re out of bed.”

You dragged your body towards his, stopping a few inches apart, and looked him in the eyes. His gaze was lovely, and you were both nearly whispering, as if to keep the fragile little bubble of this moment intact. “Okay, Hiromi.”

Higuruma instantly smiled, and closed the gap between the two of you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “That’s more like it.”

You put your thumb on his chin and guided his face to look at you, sighing deeply. “I can’t stay. And I don’t think we should do this again.” You felt like you’d be only using him, even if you had a thing for Higuruma. You just failed to realize just how deep that “thing” was becoming.

He sighed back, because he realized you were doing that again. Fleeing to avoid touching on sensitive subjects. “I know you can’t stay, but I’d like to discuss that second part before you left.”

“What do you want to discuss?”

“I want to know why we shouldn’t have sex again.” He was a pretty straightforward and honest kind of guy, even if it meant saying the uncomfortable unsaid most of the time.

“Well, I feel like I’d be using you for self satisfaction, and I think you’re a friend I wouldn’t want to drive away by treating you like man candy.” You replied, earnestly.

“Then don’t.” He answered. “Treat me like man candy, I mean. Except if I ask for it.”

You chuckled and covered your face at his antics. “Hiromi, oh my God.”

“I mean it! We’re adults, and the lifespan of a jujutsu sorcerer isn’t that long from what I could tell, anyway. It doesn’t mean this will taint our friendship, as you pointed out, and we can always talk about it if things get strange in a bad way.” He negotiated with you. This was so much different from being lectured that you couldn’t help but feel glad to be sharing this moment with Higuruma.

You stayed quiet, studying his features as he awaited for a response, and your gaze wound up resting on his lips for a while, something he noticed. He approached you carefully, brushing his lips to yours, and it instantly made your heart race. You could hear each pump in the back of your ears, as you pressed your lips against his quickly, pulling apart before you both could get entangled together again for round two, after you explicitly told him you shouldn’t.

“Can I think about it?” You asked.

“Of course. But please, do think about it, and don’t just take time to stall on an answer.” Higuruma replied, ash colored eyes piercing through you.

“Oh, stalling to not give you an answer about something uncomfortable or compromising? That definitely doesn’t sound like me.” You answered, mockingly. You were aware of your intimacy issues.

He smiled and pressed his forehead against yours. “ I’m a lawyer, I’m quite familiar with buying time to avoid consequences.”

“Consequences, huh?” You asked, rolling to the opposite side of the bed. “Come on, Hiromi. Time to start the day.”

Defeated, he rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling, as your feet touched the cold morning floor.

[notbecauseofvictories]

I think I saw you shared a list of books you’d read a couple years ago and was it you who read something like 350+ books in a single year? If so that’s absolutely remarkable and I’d love to see a list of top ten (or twenty or whatever number) of books you’ve read this year that you recommend

Don't be ridiculous, I only read 303 books in 2021! That's much more reasonable than 350. And I've read fewer and fewer each year since---this year I don't think I'm going to crack 50, though I still have a couple days.

Still, always happy to talk about what I enjoyed. Books are listed in vaguely chronological order, though I make no promises.

Patricia Wants to Cuddle, Samantha Allen

I've mentioned this book before, but essentially I put in the library request solely for the improbability of the premise---The Bachelor heads to the PNW and encounters Bigfoot? Fortunately, it delivered on that promise magnificently. A breezy and delightfully gruesome little novel with a bodycount.

Are You My Mother?, Alison Bechdel

I didn't viscerally connect with this one as much as "Fun Home" but I think it might be because it's…closer to the bone for me. When Bechdel writes about the longing for a mother that can't be answered, pulling back, pleasing, an anger that becomes unspeakable, re-routed to anxiety…it's uh. well it's churned up the silt, let's put it that way.

Greener Pastures, Michael Wehunt

I love short stories, but finding those authors who hit the right notes unerringly, in such a brief space, can be tricky sometimes. Wehunt is the rare exception, strange and unique as a writer, dream-like in his descriptions and images. "October Film Haunt: Under the House" was my favorite, though I can't say for sure whether it's because I recognized the framing device or it was just fun to read…

Running with Scissors, A Wolf at the Table, Lust & Wonder, Augusten Burroughs

I read these out of order (Lust & Wonder first, then the other two) but even so, I was wildly impressed. Lust & Wonder was a revelation; I stumbled on it in the library and walked out with it the same day. No wonder people tell you to read his books, he's got such a clear-eyed meanness, an interesting sort of canniness to his depiction of himself, the people in his life…it really does demonstrate that there is no such thing as a boring life, just a boring narrator. But if Lust & Wonder is Burroughs at the height of his power, Running with Scissors and Wolf at the Table are the necessary steps up to it. More unfinished, more raw---a litany of horrors, not even leavened by that same canny, mean humor that flashes through L&W. It's just horrifically sad to watch every person around this kid fail him, leave, or both; terrifying and unexpectedly funny and yet tender as a sucking wound.

The Princess Bride, William Goldman

I picked this up entirely by chance and ended up being deeply charmed. I don't know what I was expecting---well, no, that's not true, I was expecting the film. But what I got instead was something almost real, pleasantly rough around the edges as Goldman's caustic narration winds its way from Florin to the machinations of S. Morgenstern's lawyers, to his struggles with raising his son. (One of the funniest scenes was when he goes to meet S. Morgenstern's lawyer, and the ravishingly beautiful attorney becomes a horrible old hag the more she talks about how he won't be granted a license.) I was afraid the book would be twee, but at the center of it is a pure (if slightly embarrassing, but truth generally is outside of Florin) love of stories, and wanting stories told.

In the Woods, The Likeness, Broken Harbor, Tana French

As I've said before, I started reading this series because I was traveling to Ireland and thought it seemed appropriate. I didn't go too deep into French's oeuvre, mostly because I couldn't shake wanting the books to be urban fantasy rather than gripping psychological portraits with a decidedly noir sensibility. Still, the books themselves are taut and fascinating, the portraits they paint of the Dublin Murder Squad (all of whom are staggering, wounded in their own ways) and the blighted, post-Celtic Tiger Ireland, are deeply compelling. Also, I do still think The Likeness is a perfect answer to The Secret History.

Lesser Known Monsters of the 21st Century, Kim Fu

There's something truly powerful in a short story that doesn't answer any questions or provide you with any sort of guidance---just walks in and rearranges your photographs so they're slightly off-kilter, leaves you with that destabilization. It's almost spiritual, that sense. In particular, there's a story in the collection about the world's sense of taste disappearing; a woman begins crafting art installations to try and recreate the experience of eating a pear, what your favorite family meal tasted like. Short stories are like that.

Perilous Times, Thomas D. Lee

I was surprised by this one. I know that's how I've described half the books above, but truly, this surprised me---not so much the rising action or plot (there's a sleeping king, knights around a table, a dragon) but I loved the setting so much. The depiction of a slightly-futuristic UK as drowning land sold off for parts; figures like immortal spymaster Marlowe coexisting with reborn Lancelot and Kay; the fay hovering around the edges; and then just….all the factions, the Welsh royalists and men's rights group propped up by military contractors; environmental activists, the references to the hodgepodge that existed in the 4th century AD too. More than anything, the novel conveyed how Britain's always been a place of change, the movement of people and permeable barriers, and that more than anything worked for me. (Also, it's a small thing but I loved how the Camelot crew translated modern concepts and objects into their language and knowledge of the world. It was always shown as hesitation rather than total shock, and I found it both moving and persuasive.)

A Cup of Salt Tears, Isabel Yap

I read this in a series of speculative novellas, which impressed on me yet again how hard it must be to write novellas. (Last year, one of my least favorite books was a novella; I still think about it with joyful hate.) However, Yap takes care to focus on single, brief narrative, concerns herself solely with the very small yet very significant issue of a woman, her husband, who and how she loves, wrapped up together with a kappa. Excellent, haunting.

Books of 2020 | Books of 2021 | Books of 2022

[chaifootsteps]

Thinking about the “look at me and think you’re the only one I want” exchange again. It felt like a command. And the strange “don’t touch the pretty thing” musical lyric in the background. How bizarre? Are both of them (the writer and the story boarder) pretending they are stolas and blitz is an imaginary ex boyfriend? I wouldn’t be surprised.

This was made by Vivzie and R2, this is how the two of them see “love.” and breakups.

Blitz asked what stolas sees in him. Why he’d want to be with him or care about him, how anybody could. Stolas i think, doesn’t have a kind bone in his body. He argues with him at his most vulnerable point, by mocking everyone in the party as ‘stupid’ and tsundere. Saying that wanting blitz dead means they ‘cared’. Then of course he goes into his diatribe of his own desires, which could be met by anyone. Stolas sings “i want you” then says “I don’t want you here.” But how mentally torturous for Blitzø, constant mixed messages and torment. Exactly what he just asked stolas not to do. He can’t stop tormenting him; making “concerned” sarcastic comments on his past failures, acting as if he’s unapologetic, saying he won’t go to the party but…maybe he might~, you don’t like relationships? Well what are you doing here then?~ Everything blitz said about the owl was 100% factual. All Viv and R2 could come up with to disprove it was “then stolas cried and blitz felt bad so that makes blitzs words wrong”

Stolas then and now is incapable of giving blitz so much as one compliment. Fanfics make them up. He just said “be…who you are, your business!” Incredibly empty compared to what loving things Asmodeus said of Fizz. And the former is supposed to be the grand love story. Oh but insults? Stolas could go on for hours about what he doesn’t like about blitz: he doesn’t always come when I call, I hate how short his texts are. I hate his horse obsession. I don’t like when he questions me, I hate when he doesn’t notice things, I hate the way he talks, I hate having to explain things to him, I hate how he crushes peoples feelings, I hate that he is a remorseless mother fucker who refuses to desire me. I like how he performs in bed and on stage though. It pleases me. And I like that he pissed off my bitch wife.”

Summarising

Stolas: i want you

Blitz: why?

Stolas: —let me finish. I want you to desire me. Cause I care deeply for you.

Blitzø: But how could anyone care for me? Why want me?

Stolas: yknow what i want? i want a man to stay with me and hold me. I dont want you if you don’t do that. Go away.

Blitzø: i can try?

Stolas: look at me. And think “you’re the only one i want”

Blitzø: (follows his orders)

Stolas: someone else wants me?! Can I go?

Blitzø: fine…

For stolitz shippers the takeaway is, Blitzø wants to be the figure stolas is dreaming about, because he doesn’t want stolas to be sad, and he doesn’t want stolas to verbally abuse and replace him so he’ll do whatever the bird wants.

This is a trauma bond. Not love. If I was someone excited for a love story, I’d be immensely disappointed.

Love stories are fun and trauma bond stories are fun, but trauma bond stories presented as healthy, romantic, desirable relationships are the worst. I used to be so excited to see the love story between these two, and instead we just have Stolas getting exactly what he wants -- a kicked, beaten dog on a golden chain.

[flxrartsstuff]

Hotel Room

TojixfemReader, 18+

Authors note: The continuation of my Bonnie&Clyde story with Toji. After you have accepted your mission, you two went straight to your destination. But before your mission can really start, Toji thinks that you two can inaugurate your hotel room. After all, it has always brought you luck before.

—> Part 1

As I had received the address of the hotel, we took his car and drove straight to it. He got his bag with the weapons prepared as well. It was a strange feeling since years, to grab them out again and being ready for a mission like that. Earlier days, it was totally normal for us. So this showed how much had changed for us. And it seemed that we missed this life somehow. After driving a short distance, we arrived at our destination. Toji parked the car and took his weapons out of the back before grabbing my hand and leading me inside.

»We should at least check in and get a room as well.«

»Sounds good to me. Let's see what they have available.« I said as we entered the hotel and checked in really quickly. After we paid for our stay, we headed up to our floor and made our way to the room. It was late evening when we arrived, so the halls and elevator were empty this time. Once inside our room, Toji closed the door behind us and locked it securely. It was customary for him, for he locked the door out of pure and sure habit.

»Okay...our target‘s room is on the fifteenth floor. He checked in alone. So it should be easily done without witnesses.«

»That sounds perfect.« He was listening to what I had just explained, but something told me that his mind was already far ahead. Toji grabbed my wrist and pulled me close, pressing himself against me. Of course, I knew exactly that he wanted to take full advantage of the situation here in the hotel room.

»What?« I grinned and looked up to him. Pure lust was written in his eyes, which he must have held back the whole ride. A fire flickered in them, which wanted to devour me. He smirked and kissed me deeply, pushing himself further into me until he felt my body respond to him. His hands roamed over my curves, squeezing here and teasing there.

»Remember what we did before every mission?« Tojis voice was husky and seductive, making me melt under his touch.

»How could I forget that, baby… « I had never held back with my words with him either. It appealed to me far too much, to play these games with him. These made our relationship so special. We had something, no one ever would have.

»I want you now.« Without hesitating, he pushed me down onto the bed and climbed on top of me, pinning me beneath him. He kissed me again, this time more forcefully, using his tongue to explore every inch of my mouth. The passion between us was undeniable, each of us desperate for release.

»I think we should follow our procedure, for old time sakes...«

A dark chuckle left his mouth as he bit my neck, leaving a small mark. His hands roamed over my body, tracing patterns on my skin with his fingers. Kisses trailed down my neck, licking at the spot where he bit me. I moaned in pleasure because he knew my weak spots, knew what I loved. A smirk covered his lips as he grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head. He looked down at me, lust in his eyes. I allowed it of course, even if I had turned the tables quite happily before. No, this time he should be able to let off steam as well.

So I grinned seductively at him, goosebumps already covering my skin.  »I love and hate it when you take control like that, baby.«

His smirk turned mischievous and he leaned down closer to my face, whispering in my ear. »Why would you say that?« He gave my cheek a light slap before kissing me once more. Also this gesture, I let go but only because it just turned me on even more. We liked to play our little games, irritated the other to the extreme. There could be no one else for me. With Toji I let everything just run free.

»Let's make sure everyone knows who controls who.« He growled lowly, pressed himself harder against me, that I could feel clearly, what exactly he meant with his words. Taking hold of both sides of my jaw gently and tilting my head up towards his own, I had to look right into his eyes now. That mischievous twinkle in his eyes, which completely turned me on as usual, made me push our mission more and more into the background.

»Tell me what you want baby.« He murmured hotly, stared deeply into my eyes.

»You know what I want... to complete our mission.« I teased him playfully.

His grin never left his lips and remained darkly, as he let go of my jaw to grab my wrist and tug me closer to him, pressing his lips against mine in a passionate kiss, nibbling on my bottom lip. »I'm not gonna lie...I want to tear this room apart with you tonight.«

His hands continued to undress me, teasing me with their soft touch. I bit my lip, grabbed the edge of his shirt and pulled it over his chest. The man let out a low moan as I pulled his shirt off, revealing his bare chest. His abs flexed under my touch as I ran my fingers along his skin. His fingers brushed against my cheek before moving down further to unbutton my jeans. »You know what they say...a rough day deserves a good fuck.« He chuckled as he took off my jeans and underwear, then his own. He smirked down at me as he unhooked my bra, making me feel exposed and vulnerable.

He kissed each breast tenderly, sucked on my nipples as if he saw them for the first time, before moving down my body, making sure to kiss every inch of skin he could reach.

»I hope you enjoyed your little game. If I begin with you now, you will beg me to stop.« Toji smirked devilishly against my thigh, nipping at my skin lightly. I let out a long moan as he rubbed his bulge along my slit.

»So warm and tight...and so ready for me.«

Slowly pushing inside me, he savored every moment of pleasure. He looked deep into my eyes with desire while he began to fuck me. With every second his thrusts became faster, his hands holding onto my waist tightly. I saw sweat dripping off his forehead as he pounded away at my cunt relentlessly.

»Oh fuck ...just like that.« I let out without hesitation and giving in more and more.

The sound of our flesh slapping together filled the room as he continued pounding away, feeling an intense wave of euphoria washed over him when he heared my cries of ecstasy. His pace quickened even further, his breathing became ragged as he neared climax.

»Keep screaming for me, darling...scream louder than ever before...show me who owns you...«

He grabbed my hair roughly, pulling me up towards him as he slammed his hips forward one last time, burying himself deep within me in one final thrust. With those words still echoing through the air, Toji pulled out slowly, watching intently as thick ropes of white cream shoot forth from between my legs.

»That was incredible, baby...now let me clean you up...come here...«

I was still overwhelmed by my climax and mumbled a few words to myself. My gaze slid down between my thighs, looked at the white thick cream of our cum. It turned me on and made me smile so hard. Just because he was the only one, who can do this to me. Without breaking the eye-contact with me, he let some fingers slid over my clit, made me sigh again.

»Still so wet for me…« I heard him saying. He leaned down, till I could feel his breath right at my pussy. My whole body shivered and trembled. He knew exactly how much this made me crazy right now. He licked over my most sensitive spot, once with his whole tongue, while his thumb pressed fierce circles on my clit. His tongue penetrated me while my body reared up to meet his movements. I couldn't say anything else, except that he should keep going. I loved this idiot far too much. The words that left my mouth were a sweet mess and barely intelligible. But he knew exactly what I wanted and needed. He met my gaze as I looked down at him. Dark and full of lust, his gray gems looked back at me.

»Please…don’t you fucking stop…« I moaned again and again, grabbed his head and buried my hands in his hair. He smiled back at me and didn’t stop. Oh no, he took it even further. Toji managed to drive me to climax several times with his tongue. One orgasm after another rolled over me. I was sweating, my face was flushed and I couldn't see anything else around me but him. My pussy was burning with lust, hot and more than just wet. He had teased me to the extreme until now it was me who actually wanted him to give me final release.

»Toji, please.« Moans and screams mingled as he ran his tongue over my clit again and sucked on me like he hadn't done it in years. He only half sat up and started to stroke his dick a bit, getting hard again.

»What do you say, baby?«

He wanted to tease me, drive me crazy and acted confused, as if he hadn't understood me. Meanwhile, he continued to rub his cock slow and steady, keeping his eyes on me. Finally he positioned himself between my legs and rubbed his length against my sore pussy. I reacted immediately by arching my back and throwing my head back. He liked the way I lolled under him and savored every moment of it.

»Let's give a little more effort for our mission, shall we darling?« He emphasized the last word devilishly, finally able to let everything go. I realized surprised, as he grabbed my body and flipped me over so I was laying on my stomach. With my face pressed firmly into the pillows, I felt his body on top of me, his hard length pressed against my bottom, rubbing against me. I moaned and closed my eyes in pleasure. I wanted nothing more in the world than for him to continue. No matter how exhausted I was.

»Yes, baby.« I whimpered and moaned as he pushed himself into me slowly and I felt everything he had been holding back he was now letting out. The bets, the lost money and the mission we had accepted to get the money back. It really was like before. And I loved it. I licked my lips, accepting his every thrust with pleasure. We both came several times, which should bring us definitely some luck and ended up, sitting in bed and smoking a cigarette together. Well, I was the one who lightened up one for us, to smoke together on it. We just enjoyed each others company and remained quiet but satisfied for a few moments. These relaxing moments after our wilde encounters were something special for me. Especially with a man like him on my side.

*to be continued

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Can I have depressed marcus? he's in his bad thoughts and reader goes to him and tells him she's tehre

Warnings: dark thoughts, depression

my taglists are here+you can requests hereat any time

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The ones who suffer in silence are the ones that hurt the most. They hide their pain so perfectly and seem fine most of the time, forcing smiles and pretending, that no one realizes they are hurting until it’s too late.

Marcus Baker was deeply broken inside. On the outside he looked the same, smiling and pretending. Inside, it’s a different story.

Old demons came back to haunt him out of the blue, intrusive thoughts filling his mind with doubts, self loathing and self-destruction. He tried to make everything go away by heavy drinking and smoking, but it was only working for a short time. Once the numbing effects dissipated, it got hard to breathe again. He skipped class to lay in bed all day, incapable of finding the energy to get out of bed.

He never had a sparkle like his sister Maxine, but you could sense that something was wrong. He was not his usual self. His head was down when you weren’t looking, his eyes were dull and his smiles forced, he favored hoodies and stopped wearing his woody aftershave. He even showed up to school drunk two days ago.

The morning bell was about to ring and you couldn’t seem to find Marcus. According to your last texts, he said he would be coming and help you study for the History quiz before first period, but he was not there.

You were on your third round of the building when you saw Max. You grabbed her arm and stopped her. ‘’Have you seen Marcus?’’

‘’Yes. At breakfast this morning. He stole the last strip of bacon from my plate. We rarely get bacon during weekdays so I was really mad,’’ she said with a strange look in her eyes. ‘’But he won’t be coming to school today. He had a doctor appointment. A…a checkup for his concussion!’’

His accident was months ago. It didn’t make sense.

‘’Oh. Okay. Thanks for telling me.’’ You forced a smile and left for History class.

During the whole day, you couldn’t focus on anything else than Marcus. Typical teenager in love behavior one might say, but you weren’t thinking about how much you loved him or the quirky things he did. You were thinking about how off he had been these past weeks. And that doctor appointment felt strange on Max’s tongue. As if she was not completely telling you the truth.

Max was working on the school’s musical so you stayed behind after working extra-curricular and offered her a ride. She talked about everything Wellington during the whole time. It was headache inducing.

When you got to the Bakers’, she thanked you for the ride and got worried when you turned off the car.

‘’It’s time for dinner, I don’t think my parents will appreciate you showing up.’’

Mr. and Mrs. Baker loved you and often invited you for dinner so this was a made up lie. A terrible one, at that.

‘’I have homeworks to give him and notes for him to copy. It won’t take long.’’

‘’You can give them to me,’’ she offered quickly. ‘’I’ll give it to him—’’

‘’No.’’ You undid your seatbelt and got out of the car despite Max’s protests.

As expected, Ellen was pleased to see you and even offered to stay for dinner — she made spaghetti. The only person who was being strange was Max, which confirmed she was hiding something from you. Before she could follow you upstairs, Ellen called her to set the table.

Marcus was laying on his bed, staring absentmindedly at his ceiling. He had heard your footfalls in the hallway, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn his head to look at you. Not because he was lazy or had a kink in his neck. Because seeing you would remind him of how terrible of a boyfriend he’s been lately.

You walked up to his bed and laid down beside him. He didn’t say anything or acknowledge you. It was sad to see. Was this what Max was trying to hide from you? You reached a hand to card through his hair, about couldn’t help but think about that one time Max asked if you loved him even with greasy hair.

‘’Whatever you are feeling right now, you are not alone. When things get tough, know that I’m here. You can talk to me or not talk to me — whatever you decide —, but I’m here.’’

Hearing those three simple words meant a lot to Marcus.

It was quiet for a moment. You expected Ellen or Max to call for dinner since it was almost ready when you got here, but neither did.

You had shifted positions and was now hugging him from the back. It had confused Marcus at first, the positions usually reversed, but after settling into your embrace, he felt a sense comfort and protection wrapping around him, which was really nice.

‘’I’m having a really hard time,’’ he admitted quietly.

You hugged him tighter against your chest. ‘’If I could, I'd take that bomb in your head and disarm it. I would shut all those dark thoughts and replace them with…pink sheeps playing hopscotch.’’

He huffed a short laugh, imagining the sheeps. It’s probably the only laugh you’ll get out of him today.

‘’I love you, Marcus. I love you even at your darkest.’’

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