#ironic that we can separate the art from the artist better for him than for say Al Capp or JKR because he's usually too smart to suck

[lilacnothlit]

The Hunt by Flaks314. Rachel loses her family to the Yeerks and it escalates from there. These three fanworks after book 23 have the writing style dead-on (the author said someplace that Animorphs were the only books he read in English), while still having unfathomably gripping tension. Erek lets Rachel experience her own death, and Cassie reassures her parents "It's just ketamine!"

Sacred Host and The Parallel by Qoheleth. The author thinks I'm going to hell for at least seven reasons, but annoyingly, the stories are really really good. In the former, a yeerk host tells her cagemate about her lord and savior Jesus Christ and gives multiple aliens really well-written religious grapples in alien terms. In the latter, a parallel universe Animorphs, "The Morph Force" end up in the Canon timeline and our main character is tempted to leave the war and stay as a civilian in her counterpart's place. It's some of the most intelligent fiction I've ever read, period, and I'm not sure if I mean that as an insult. Everyone should give it a shot. The worldbuilding alone. Yeerks apparently have martial arts in slug form.

It's gone from the internet but Wayback Machine should still have Cinnamonbunzuh.blogspot.com and Ifi's magical fic, "six days the Animorphs were idiots," which starts as "the clouds on the book covers are Marco's pot smoke" and ends with them solving the whole war in a week. Esplin and Edriss have a lousy date and Esplin becomes a depressed cat hoarder. The tone is a fantastic Cerebus rollercoaster. Always save your favorite fanfics! They can disappear anytime. Wayback doesn't have the sequels where we explore the backstories of Visser 5 and her host, and it's a loss. Rachel is forced to go to chee therapy. Jake is forced to negotiate with the Andalites while drunk.

And ceruleanshane's Animorphs Redux, one of the most compelling ones I've ever read. Sadly, it ends like two chapters into its own finale, but you can process the rest. Time resets back to book 20, with only certain people remembering the original - and Melissa Chapman finds the cube.

It's worth it for her alone. Her anxious, nerd-filled narrative voice, her crazy dynamic with absolutely everyone. But there's too many amazing parts. Wait till the Veleek shows up. Or when Jake's andalite morph is so sexy and female, Ax and Marco are paralyzed by "I haven't seen a girl in two years." Or the Helmacrons. Or Melissa's battle morph. You have no idea how much tragedy and comedy gold I'm avoiding spoilers for. Ax's reaction to learning Tobias' paternity remains probably the best version of that scene I've ever read.

And, for a crack palate cleanser, Morphcatcher - in which the members of a Kpop girl group are college students who find Elfangor in the woods, and his nearby sister the snarky battle lesbian. It's tricky sometimes - I don't know this band from Eve, much less who's older and younger, so sometimes the dongsang and eonni get confusing - but the authorial voice fizzles like champagne, and it tickles my brain just right. Andalite Oxygen is different from earth oxygen because it's blue.

What animorphs fics would you recommend by yourself or others, for people who haven't read any of them yet?

Anything by Poetry/@featherquillpen! I've read a bunch of their crossovers and enjoyed every one. They're masterful at capturing the goofy-yet-horrifying tone of Animorphs, and with unexpected crossovers. Though I haven't gotten around to reading Daemorphing, I've head good things and can recommend by proxy. That's my single biggest author rec. Fic recs:

Elfangor's Folly by Kim Hoppy is an excellent longfic series retelling. The premise is exactly what the name suggests — Elfangor survives the first book and stays on Earth. My favorite part of this one is the author's ability to capture the subtly-unreliable narration of Animorphs with Elfangor's voice.

Take Me Out by neinlives is a delightful piece about the Animorphs grown up and going to college, half crack half sweetness.

The Wheel by L. Emmist is the reason my date once asked me "Why do you have a picture of a yeerk in a condom on your window?" and that's all you need to know about it.

Animorphs: Facebook News Feed Edition by Ember Nickel is exactly what the title suggests; never have I laughed so hard about Tom's death.

Speaking of which, The Tocsin by tptigger is a brilliant speculative story about Tom becoming reluctant host to a member of the Yeerk Peace Movement, and thus an even more reluctant Auxiliary Animorph.

I know I'm forgetting a bunch — I'm terrible at remembering to bookmark — so other people please weigh in with recs!

[everything-laito]

LAITO APPRECIATION WEEK (May 15th-May 21st) 2022 OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT!!!

Hi guys!! Another year, another week dedicated to Laito!!

If you don’t know me, I’m Corn! I’m typically known for my Laito analyses in the fandom, but last year I hosted a Laito appreciation week! So I’m gonna make this a yearly thing :)

Yes, I know Laito’s birthday is in March, but I’m a full time college student with a part time job so its really hard for me to be consistent during the semester. But I’m free from this semester as of last week, and ironically it’s around the second year anniversary of this blog (May 16th)! I’ll be hitting the 1000 follower milestone (holy shit wtf) this summer so what better way to give back to this community more and celebrate than to host another appreciation week?? 

This year, I am co-hosting with my lovely friend @novampirebrainrot (Deia) who is an absolutely amazing artist, and we became friends last year through the previous Laito appreciation week! So I thought it was fitting :) Send her some love as well, she’s just such a cool person!

ANYWAYS! Laito Appreciation Week will start on Sunday, May 15th, and will end on Saturday, May 22nd. Please feel free to reblog and spread the message! I hope this will be as fun as last year’s! 

To prepare everyone for the themes, I am releasing them right now! Posts can be drawings, creative prose, quotes, your own words, moodboards, etc! Go ham! Have fun! Be creative! (or shitposty! I always love a good meme!)

THEMES AND RULES UNDER THE CUT

Themes (kind of) and rules subject to change but I will let you know if they do :)

--------------------------------------THEMES--------------------------------------

Day 1: Sunday, May 15th (same as last year just as a warmup!):

Five things you like about Laito (and why?) If you want to do anything creative about it, feel free to do so! If you participated in this last year, what are some five other things you like about him? Or if you want to share what you wrote/made last year that’s completely fine too!

Day 2: Monday, May 16th

Which Laito moment made you feel O////O the most? (like embarrassed or shocked or surprised the most)? And why (if you want to say)? We know there’s at least one Laito moment like that for everyone

Day 3: Tuesday, May 17th

Which Laito moment made you feel angry at him the most (CD, game, anime, etc) and why?

Day 4: Wednesday, May 18th (same as last year! We both love Laito art)

Reblog or link your favorite art of Laito (don’t repost fan art unless if you have permission!)! Or if you would like to share your own art, please share! This can be official art or fan art. If you reblog make sure to tag us directly because it doesn’t show up in the tag if you reblog it :) (however you should still reblog/link it to show support for the artist!!)

Art can also include moodboards/playlists/etc if you so wish! (or all of the above)! Anything that’s a creative representation of Laito aside from fanfiction because that’s a different day :)

Day 5: Thursday, May 19th

Reblog and or link your favorite Laito fanfiction (don’t repost unless if you have permission!)! Or if you would like to share your own fan fiction as well, please share! OR if you want to do anything creative inspired by that fanfiction please feel free to do so and share (like art inspired by it or a moodboard etc)! 

Same with Day 4, if you are reblogging a post for the submission, please tag us directly so we can find it! Since reblogs don’t come up in the tag :)

Day 6: Friday, May 20th

Back on the emotional train again! What’s your favorite emotional scene of Laito? And why? 

Day 7: Saturday, May 21st

To end everything off, what’s some headcanons you have of Laito?? Crack headcanons, serious ones, etc are all allowed! Hope you had fun with all of this!!!

----------------------------------------RULES--------------------------------------

Tag your posts with #Laito Appreciation Week 2022 ! (If you want to include the day, make it a separate tag, but at least use #Laito Appreciation Week 2021 so we can find you!) Or you can tag me or @novampirebrainrot directly!!! We both want to see your posts!!!

If your post is NSFW, please tag accordingly!

Late posts are definitely ok! Feel free to get a head start on anything though, just make sure to post it during the week!

Questions? Feel free to ask me or @novampirebrainrot :)

Rules (and themes in case if it happens) are subject to be added to until May 14th, just in case something comes up that we need to address, I just wanted to give you guys a heads up!

I had so much fun with this event last year, so I can’t wait to host it again!!! We can’t wait to see all of your posts and participate in this event ourselves! (I might even stream on those days too we’ll see B) I’ll let you guys know on this blog )

Have fun, go ham! I’m so so excited for this!!!

[sigynappreciation]

Sigyn Meta: Who is Sigyn?

A Norse Goddess who is known for being the wife of the Trickster, Loki, and holding the bowl to protect him from the snake’s venom. 

But besides that, Who is Sigyn? What does she mean to others? 

Journey with me as we explore who she is -- not only in the mythologies, but in other forms like the Marvel Comics, Worship and through fans.

#JusticeforSigyn

Sigyn’s Origins (Mythology):

Sadly, not many stories that have Sigyn in them have survived till today. She is only attested in the following works: Poetic Edda & Prose Edda. 

In the poem, Lokasenna, the most famous of poem’s with the couple, it talks of how Loki has been bound by the gods with the guts of his son, Nari, and how his son, Vari, has been turned into a wolf. The Goddess Skadi fastens a venomous snake over Loki’s face, from which venom drips. Sigyn, stated as Loki’s wife, stays by his side and holds a basin under and catches the venom so it won’t drip onto her husband, but when the basin grows full, she pulls it away to empty it, during which time venom drops onto Loki, causing him to wither so violently that earthquakes occur that shake the entire earth.

In the poem, Gylfaginning, Sigyn is introduced in Chapter 31 as being married to Loki and that they have a son by the name of “Narfi or Nari”. She is then mentioned again in Chapter 50 where events are described differently than in Lokasenna; Vali, described as a son of Loki only, is changed into a wolf by the gods and rips apart his brother, “Narfi or Nari.” The guts of Nari are then used to tie Loki to three stones, after which the guts turn to iron, and Skadi places a snake above Loki. Sigyn of course catches the venom in a bowl. This process is repeated until he breaks free, setting Ragnarok into motion.

In the poem, Skáldskaparmál, Sigyn is introduced as a goddess, an Æsir, where the gods are holding a feast for their visitors and in kennings for Loki: “husband of Sigyn” and “cargo [Loki] of incantation-fetter’s [Sigyn’s] arms.” 

Sigyn’s name means “Victorious-Girlfriend” in Old Norse. 

Sigyn may appear on the Gosforth Cross and has been the subject of an amount of theory and cultural references.

She appears in the 9th century skaldic poem Haustlöng from pagan times, written by the skald Þjóðólfr of Hvinir. Due to this early connection with Loki, Sigyn has been theorized as being a goddess dating back to an older form of Germanic paganism.

Sigyn in Worship/Honor: 

I’ll be speaking on this through my personal experience of working with Sigyn while also sharing some tid bits of basic info from others on this subject. I’m someone who works with Sigyn primarily, but sometimes gets help from Loki. 

A Lokean is someone who honors Loki as their primary deity ( or at least one of their primary deities.) Most are polytheists that respect a variety of worldviews and a wide variety of gods. FOR MORE ON THIS SUBJECT, VISIT THIS BLOG: https://lokeanwelcomingcommittee.tumblr.com

For those who work with Loki, you will also find yourself working with Sigyn. And sometimes you don’t even need to work with Loki first in order to work with Sigyn (like me!)

Sigyn is usually a calming and motherly presence. Loki is protective over her, but they usually work in unison together to help. 

SMALL DEVOTIONAL ACTS TO SIGYN: 

Holding the Bowl: It is a reflective act of Sigyn holding the bowl to protect Loki from the snake’s venom. This is usually the major one. 

Helping to support mothers (especially single mothers)

Support single parents

Supporting Women’s Rights

Keep fighting through the hardships 

Wear earthy tones

Commitment in everything you do.

Help others, but remember that self-care is important too

More devotional acts

KENNINGS/HEITI FOR SIGYN:

Wife of Loki

Incantation-Fetter

Lady of Staying Power

Lady of Unyielding Gentleness

Lady of the Unconquerable Heart

Mother of Narvi and Vali

North Star

Victory Woman

Lady of Loyalty

Loki’s Treasure

Devoted Mother

Lady of Endurance

Goddess of Constancy

Goddess of the Heart

Goddess of Neglected Children

Goddess of Comfort

Healer to All

Mother to All

Beloved of Monsters

SIGYN’S VIRTUES:

Strength

Loyalty

Grace

Humility

Gentleness

Charity

Constancy

Love

Endurance

Patience

Simplicity

Mindfulness

Compassion

I’ll cover more on this subject soon in a separate post, but this is the basic. 

Sigyn in the Marvel Comics:

Sadly, Sigyn is not portrayed the best in the Marvel Comics of Thor, resulting in her being missing from the comics since 1996 and practically killed off (only being referenced to in flashbacks.) 

Loki comes across her and desires to have her. However, she is already engaged to an Asgardian named Theoric, who Loki has killed and ends up taking on the disguise of in order to take Sigyn for his own. On their wedding day once the vows are said and done, Sigyn accepts her duty as his wife, granting her the title Goddess of Fidelity by Odin. 

She doesn’t have much of an agency or personality besides being Loki’s faithful wife in this. 

Fans wish for her to make a comeback in the Comics and MCU with better characterization. Hence, much Fanfiction, Cosplay, Roleplay and Fanart has been made of others own interpretation’s of Sigyn and #JusticeforSigyn is shared around in hopes of this. 

LIST OF SIGYN COMIC APPEARANCES:

Thor Vol 1 #275 (First appearance, 1978)

Thor Vol 1 #276

Thor Vol 1 #277

Thor Vol 1 #278

Thor Vol 1 #301

Thor Vol 1 #302

Thor Vol 1 #303

Thor Vol 1 #307

Thor Annual Vol 1 (9)

Thor Vol 1 #313

Thor Vol 1 #321

Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe Vol 1 (1)

Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe Vol 2 (1)

Gamer’s Handbook of the Marvel Universe Vol 1 (1)

Thor Annual Vol 1 (14)

Thor Annual Vol 1 (19)

Thor Vol 1 #479

Thor Vol 1 #483

Thor Vol 1 #484 (1995)

Thor: The Legend Vol 1 (1) (1996, last appearance)

Avengers: Loki Unleashed #1 (2019, first & only modern day appearance since 90s. FLASHBACK ONLY)

LIST OF SIGYN MENTIONS IN COMICS:

Thor Annual Vol 1 #10 (1982)

Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe Vol 1 #11 (1983)

Thor: Asgard’s Avenger Vol 1 #1 (2011)

Mighty Thor Vol 1 #12.1 (2012)

Loki Vol 3 #1 (2019 - referenced)

Sigyn and her impact with Fans:

Sigyn is still not that well known among others, but there is a small community of us fans who honor her through all forms she is displayed and her relationship with Loki. This is the reason this blog and @dailylogyn​ were created: to help unite fans and spread the word of Sigyn and her relationship with Loki through appreciation and education.

Fans also show their appreciation for Sigyn through Art forms like Fanfiction, Cosplay, Fanart & More! The cool thing is that she can be interpreted however you wish, but her love for Loki and her compassion is always her strong points. 

There is a tag #JusticeforSigyn in order to help give her the proper attention she deserves. MORE HERE. 

FANARTISTS:

I’m not going to post any of their art here in order to make others visit their blogs and give them the appropriate credit they deserve. 

Let’s support content creators! <3

@nanigram​/Nanihoo: This artist makes wonderful fanart of her own interpretation of Sigyn and her relationship with Loki (plus their children.) You can usually find most of it on Deviantart. 

@sigynart​: This artist makes lovely art of Tom Hiddelston’s Loki, but has recently come out with their own interpretation of Sigyn and has even started to draw Loki & Sigyn together. 

@dank-art​: This artist makes a lot of interesting twists to Sigyn and Loki either if it’s a modern look, an alternate universe or a certain aesthetic of the couple. They have a lot of amazing concept designs concerning Sigyn and Loki! 

COSPLAYERS:

@bubbleteycosplay​: She is known as the German Sigyn! This cosplayer has done a wide varieties of different versions/outfits of Sigyn. Besides here, you can usually find her on Instagram, Deviantart and other websites. She also helps inform others on Sigyn and her relationship with Loki.

In fact, HERE IS A LIST she has created pertaining to other Sigyn Cosplayers. I’ll list the others below though with links to their pages:

Vontrug (Instagram)

lady_laufeyson (Instagram)

Mizerious (Instagram)

Maryintothewoods (Instagram)

danni_darling (Instagram) 

I myself am planning to join these wonderful cosplayers too as I work to create my own Sigyn cosplay as well. :) They are all such an inspiration! 

CONCLUSION:

I could go on and on about the subject of Sigyn. She’s an amazing, caring and loving goddess who teaches us many helpful traits we need throughout life. Despite still not being that well known, she is greatly loved by this community -- and none other than Loki. 

Hopefully someday she will make a comeback in the Marvel world and get the proper characterization and love she deserves. Till then, us fans will continue to share the love, joy and appreciation we have for Sigyn and her relationship with Loki, welcoming anyone as Sigyn does with open arms and loving hearts. 

SOURCES:

Holding the Bowl: https://lokeanwelcomingcommittee.tumblr.com/post/102422224083/a-bowling-tutorial

Lokean Welcoming Community: https://lokeanwelcomingcommittee.tumblr.com

Small Devotional Acts to Sigyn: https://bramblevitch.wordpress.com/2020/06/23/small-devotional-acts-to-sigyn/

Sigyn on Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sigyn

Lokean Welcoming Community’s topics on Sigyn: https://lokeanwelcomingcommittee.tumblr.com/tagged/sigyn

Sigyn on Marvel Database: https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Sigyn_(Earth-616)

Sigyn’s Shrine: Who is Sigyn?: http://www.northernpaganism.org/shrines/sigyn/sigyn/who-is-sigyn.html

Sigyn - Norse Mythology for Smart People: https://norse-mythology.org/sigyn/

[tvitr]

uwu I don’t make the ruwules

(Okay fine, reasons/opinions below the cut but be warned! I won’t be holding back on game or book spoilers. Or rambling. This got longer than I anticipated lol)

BETTER IN THE BOOK

Eis “Fireman Sam” Glover: I don’t know what the game was trying to do with this one. I guess he gets overwhelmed by the fire and loses his composure or gets scared or... something?  Also why did he not bring a hose. Or a mask.  This is why so many reviewers thought Wonderworld was a metaphor for purgatory and all the inhabitants are dead I swear. Who cares, the book handled it a lot better. I wouldn’t say it’s perfect, but there’s definitely a good idea here with some interesting themes. The gist is that he feels ashamed following his captain’s orders to retreat during a serious blaze, which his colleagues disobeyed, and his colleagues are later hailed as heroes by the press.  Is Balan the Book trying to take on toxic masculinity...? How brave. Tl;dr, the book conveyed the story a Hell of lot better than the game. Honestly I’m surprised this is the only one.

BETTER IN THE GAME

Haoyu “Airplane Boi” Chang: So the book tried waaaay too hard to draw a parallel between Haoyu and Fiona (aka, Dolphin Girl) to the point that they both share a similar backstory, in that they had a hobby which led to a near-fatal accident and now they’re too traumatised to resume said hobby. And that’s not a bad thing per se but... “near fatal accident” was already Fiona’s backstory. We didn’t need a duplicate. And this is more personal preference, but I kinda liked Haoyu’s story in the game anyway. His failure at building a functioning aeroplane out of crap he found in his garage is endearingly funny in the game, and the resolution of him taking time out to sit down and study before building anything is a nice spin on the whole “if at first you don’t succeed” theme the chapter wanted. 

Sana “Bird Lady” Hudson: So the book decided they didn’t want to make Cal an angry sore loser so guess what? They made Sana an angry misanthrope. Wonderful. Okay maybe that’s harsh, but she definitely came off as very bitter and unsympathetic in the book. Like there’s a scene at the end where she harasses a firefighter and tries to steal a fire engine because they’re working on a building fire and not supervising her park. That’s not a character you wanna root for. That’s a Karen. The game had a better plot thread and resolution to her story rather than a boring cookie-cutter “humans vs. nature grrrr humans are so evil” story, like the game story here had a bit more depth to it and approached the topic more maturely than the book did. Which is ironic considering how hilariously edgy the book gets sometimes, but I guess throwing a few smashed eggs and frozen bird skeletons into your story doesn’t mean anything if you’re still going to paint such a black-and-white narrative.

Iben “Frozen Elsa” Bia: This story didn’t need dialogue. Like... we don’t need her to justify why she’s upset her parents are dead because we’d already assume that. They’re her parents! Of course we’d assume she’d be upset! They died! Simultaneously! That’s horrible! WE DON’T NEED HER TO EXPLAIN THIS! Also her dialogue in the book was... pretty terrible, not gonna lie. Like if you’re gonna insist on dialogue at least make it gOOD. I’m actually planning on just reviewing her book scene so I can fully articulate just how bad it is anyway, so stay tuned for that mess lol.

FINE IN BOTH

I mean there’s not really too much to say here but anyways:

Jose/”The Farmer” having a family in the book gives him a bit more depth, even if we never hear from them again after his backstory dump.

Fiona/”Dolphin Girl” almost drowns in a slightly different way, with a dolphin straight up pulling her mask off rather than knocking it out of her mouth, and the book also goes more into detail about her love for diving and dolphins. Also the book ships her and Haoyu like. So hard. Like they never shut up about how similar they are or what they other’s doing or if the other’s okay or not. By the end of it I was expecting them to just start making out in front of everyone, they’re that obsessed with each other. And it would be funny if they didn’t use this to wreck Haoyu’s backstory like I mentioned earlier.

Yuri/”Bug Kid”/”Is that a Pokémon reference?” is now being kinda bullied for liking bugs, which yeah gives her more depth and reason to be upset but I also kinda related to her just being that One Kid with interests that nobody else had. But it’s not as bad as some of the other changes, so I can let it slide.

Atillio/Clown and Bruce/Old Man are the same, nothing to say here.

Lucy/”The Artist” is a total drama queen but then again so are Art People so I can let it slide. I did like them changing her problem from “artist’s block” (seriously?) to her feeling too under pressure to create masterpieces, unless that’s what the game was aiming for? Oh who cares.

JUST A BIG MESS

Cass “Dead Cat Girl” Milligan: This is a weird one because the story is the same between the game and book (though the book mentions she witnessed a more severe car accident rather than a speeding car which she assumes kills the cat, and the cat isn’t even her cat, it’s a stray) but the story itself is... flawed. According to the book, they wanted to convey the idea that running away from the accident was irresponsible, and she just needed to look back and she’d see her cat is okay, but the game kind of makes it look more like Balan turned back time to save her cat, and the book mentions a serious car crash which I don’t think anyone would willingly return to. I feel there’s a better way to convey this idea of being responsible for your pets, like say her cat escapes from the house and gets lost, and her resolution is going out and properly looking for it. That’s a more effective (and natural) way to relay that message, especially as they weren’t going to commit to the idea of grieving a lost pet.

I’M CONFLICTED

Cal “Chess Daddy” Suresh: God this was a tough call. On one hand Cal’s game backstory is one of the ones most YouTube players single out as the weakest backstory in the game. He’s just “that guy who lost one game of chess”. Being right before Iben’s level certainly doesn’t help. I could honestly write a separate post about how bad the story placements are in this game but that’s too long for here.  On the other hand, I still... kinda like it? Like I like this idea of him being a sore loser with a bad temper who needs to learn some humility, sure it’s not as serious as “I almost drowned” or “my parents are dead” but one of the few good things about the game is that it balanced “serious” stories with “benign” ones, if that makes sense. HOWEVER His book scene is... probably one of the best written in the whole book. Which isn’t saying much, but it felt like it hit the intended degree of darkness that the rest of the book was trying to hit. One of my main issues with the book is how much it edged up everyone’s backstory, which doesn’t sound bad but when you have 12 characters with edgy backstories to sit through, it starts to feel like a 14 year old's first attempt at writing an angsty fanfiction very quickly. And yes, Cal’s story is dark and angsty but it felt like the perfect balance of dark and angsty. Or as perfect as the book can get. Like even Balan’s annoying rhyming dialogue sounded good for the tone of the scene. Man maybe I should just do a review of both his backstories in a bigger post.  Obviously I could be biased because I’m a sucker for chess aesthetics and dark skinned men with long permed hair so I’m just putting more thought into him but still.

[hellyeahheroes]

Robin(2021) #1 Review

Opening this comic with an assessment of a character that I have no choice but to agree with is a cheap way to score points with me.

Anyways, we caught heat for being unfair to this story since it was announced because all of us wanted it to be a Cass story since forever. And it became yet another thing Damian absorbs. I mostly ignored it because I’ve always been open about my disdain for the character and his fandom for nearly a decade. I never liked Damian because put these characteristics on a non-white passing character, they’d be dead inside of year. Then again I hate almost all of Grant Morrison monstrosities.

Regardless, new story who dis is in full effect here. We open this bad boy up with Damian gone missing and the Batfamily searching for him. Nightwing tried asking Damian’s old Teen Titans team and they obviously don’t know and probably hope Damian is dead. Tim checked Arkham Ruins(???) and Damian wasn’t there. I honestly don’t think Tim was trying to find Damian. Steph and Cass checked Damian’s farm and Steph concluded Damian has been there at least because while Damian may be a little shit, he loves his dog and pet bat dragon. Barbara checked facial recognition pings and his transactions and dude is an IRS nightmare.

Damian is missing. Bruce is worried that maybe making a violent murderous preteen Robin raised in a cabal of killers to be chief murderer was a bad idea and is worried. Barbara ensures him that they will find his son and we cut to Damian fighting Snake guy in some musty ass fight put somewhere. Because of course it’s a musty ass fight pit because while the story is well drawn, it never claimed to be not cliche.

Damian hands the scrub his ass and it turns out Damian is trying to earn a marker to participate in some tournament. I liked this panel.

Not because of the artist flex of changing the art style, but it establishes Damian with a relatable hobby, reading manga. And not just a Shounen as you expect him to read but a slice of life manga which kind of puts his life in perspective. Also the lesson in the manga is reflective of what happens in the comic. Damian’s mastery is reflective of how he sees Hana. Hana decides to go beyond what her masters taught her. She decides to innovate and make her art her own. And that’s indicative of another flaw of Damian: Damian leans of the prestige of his teachers. He is the student that replicates the style 1:1. He wants to inherit Batman’s mantle, but doesn’t want to shed his teachings that he is proud of. And it comes down to this idea that Damian refuses to innovate and adapt because he is hiding behind his masters.

This panel saved the story so good job.

And after a talk with dead Alfred, it’s revealed that Damian is on this journey as a way to mirror Bruce’s journey into becoming Batman. It’s his way to iron his resolve without a catalyst to find a need to. It highlights his naïveté. He thinks that he can just simply copy the steps and get the same results.

Regardless what happens next simultaneously undermines the story or the impact of it.

Okay, when you think of Martial artists in DC, you immediately think Batman, Shiva, Deathstroke, Black Canary, Bronze Tiger, Richard Dragon, and Shiva. Why I said Shiva twice? Because Shiva is the pinnacle.

So to reveal that three premier martial artists in the universe are not only not participating but they were paid off to not participate, cheated out, or were subbed in as an entry replacement, it undermines the promotion. It’s like going to a Beyonce Concert only to find out that between the words in small print Beyonce and Concert was ‘s Sister’s and now you are watching Grammy award winning Solange. Sure, it’s an unique experience but it ain’t Beyonce.

And also, there is no amount in the world that would keep Shiva away from this tournament if it’s as prestigious as it’s led to be. Let’s be real. If anything, it’s far more likely that she saw the roster of scrubs and decided to make some scratch.

There are two characters that I recognize: Connor Hawke and Rose Wilson. I am not familiar with Connor so I am not sure if he is out of place. Rose is fine but y’know, scrub. I’m sorry Rose Wilson got her ass handed to her by Cass in the previous universe. There is no universe where I take her seriously in a fighting tournament to crown greatest fighter because the ass stomp was so thorough that Cass was beating Slade’s ego by proxy.

Back to the comic, Damian interrupts the host and basically is the fighting tournament trope of overly confident disrespectful guy with too many accolades which he will proudly tell you about them. What I like about this is the nice nod to the previous manga panel. Damian is not a great fighter. There I said it. Damian’s ability hinges on the idea that he was trained by the greatest killers and Batman but the issue is that name prestige doesn’t make great fighters. Too many times, comic books overly rely on this idea of fighting being a what you know and not being a game of not getting hit and getting hits in. It does not matter if Damian is trained by the League and Batman and it’s questionable as to how much Batman taught him in the first place. Hence why we see Damian with a sword or staff to compliment his lack of range. Damian can’t read muscle twitches like a Cass or Shiva so he has a normal reactive response and comics never highlighted his ability. The most impressive thing I’ve seen Damian do is catch a Batarang which is something I’ve seen Tim do. Damian overly relies on the idea that his teachers taught him to be the best when they simply taught him to survive in a fight.

“But why does Cass get away with it?,” you ask. Cass has this broken hax that is reading muscle twitch and immediately knowing the instant of what you are going to do before you do it or decide to do. Cass doesn’t need range because to her, you are screaming your intentions. She doesn’t need to block an attack when she can just parry. She doesn’t need to step back when she can just step forward while slipping all attacks. She is an autistic savant at fighting with an absolute defense. Damian is just another badass teen in a world of badass adults.

And the humbling of Damian begins...again.

Pros:

-Damian’s new costume. I like that he is branching out and starting to own his own colors. It’s nice.

-Using a character flaw to make it a theme. I like Chekhov’s gun via teachable moment. In tournament arcs, what separates the good ones and the bad ones is the idea that the hero simply must overcome their opponents and not their own self. This is why Yuyu Hakusho is awesome.

- Great art and nice continuity. It’s nice that Damian’s past wasn’t ignored for once and they didn’t just throw his Teen Titans characterization down the tubes. Say what you want, but it was arguably Damian’s longest run in spite of his fans hating it. And contrary to what they believe, it was very much in character for him. My fear going into this that Damian would not face any fallout and lo and behold he ran away.

- it’s a good start for a Damian story. Say what you want, but it’s unique in that the little shit gets his comeuppance immediately. And not that just by losing, but by dying. Damian has killed before and readily justifies it because he never realizes the weight of taking someone’s life. He’s been killed before but those were painted in a way that he is valiant. Here, this is death caused by his own arrogance. He mocks a fighter for talking shit and gets murked while talking shit. He spouts names of his own teachers and expects people to care or be weary as if Rose Wilson and Connor aren’t there. It’s a tournament sponsored by the League of Assassins, Damian. They have been taught by the league too.

Cons:

-Look I get promotion. No promoter is going to undermine their product but the fact that this tournament reeks like ABA is killing my interest to give a shit. It’s a convenient caveat to say that, “Well, a character won this so they can have the title but the title doesn’t mean anything.” I know of regardless of whom wins this, they aren’t the best. Go ham or don’t at all.

-not enough emphasis of the importance of this arc. Why even have this tournament? What’s the prize? What’s even the point?

-While the art is nice, the action is framed poorly. I like physical action like this to be nearly choreographed in a way I can see and piece movement in my head. The two fight scenes we get are somewhat disjointed in that it’s just poses. For example, Flatline’s first kick makes no sense at all and I don’t get her follow up. Trying to picture the movement hurts my head and in an action concept like this, it’s best to frame action scenes as more than doing poses. Here is a good example:

This only emphasizes the action and gets the reader to acknowledge that this a tournament of great fighters or at least a great fighting story.

All in all, do I think this story is off to a good start? Yes. Is it going to change my opinion on Damian? Hell no. My reaction to Damian getting his ass handed to him was this.

The issue is that it never sticks. Damian can learn and be a better person but the development never sticks. It becomes a cyclical series of events because whoever writes him next will just keep writing him as this shitty entitled murder rich kid who never learns anything and gets validated somehow. It’s been over a decade and I’m tired of the same excuses of his shitty behavior. I am tired of writers validating it or excusing it.

Damian losing isn’t an outcome I care for because it’s wasted on him. Honestly I am more interested in Connor and Rose being there. I have no faith that it will stick nor does it undo the shitty idea of the character. I have never wanted to see Damian fight. It’s never been fun to read about nor has the impetus of his character emphasized the ability or style. Placing Damian in an Enter the Dragon style tournament lacks the pizzazz of Cass doing the same thing. For example, let’s try Marvel.

Let’s say someone pitches an idea of a tournament arc styled after Game of Death. Immediately you think Martial Artists non-powered. Danny Rand, Daredevil, Elektra, Shang-Chi, Pei and Colleen Wing. Okay, instead of giving those characters the honor, you give the story to Black Cat. Honestly, I’d read it because Felicia could sell me a documentary on grass and I’d buy it but the point stands, why does Damian have this Bruce Lee inspired Martial Arts story versus the actual Chinese or East Asian Martial Arts focused member of the Batfamily, Cassandra Cain?

But this has nothing to do with what could have been. It’s a fun beginning of a possibly fun arc. In that regard, it delivers but what’s the point?

Like I said, fun story.

@ubernegro

[ghosthan]

hello!! i saw that you made a lot of stuff for 1872 and i was wondering if 1872 tony is similar to regular comics tony?? i know mcu and comics tony are different and i want to get into 616, but if 1872 comics are more easy to read i might try those first! 😅

Hello, hello! 

Thank you for asking, and sorry it took me so long to get back to you! I wanted to think about it and put together a thoughtful response because I am desperately trying to convert MCU fans to 1872. Or comics fans who just haven’t gotten into 1872.

This post will contain some 1872 spoilers, but not the Big Spoiler that you probably already know about anyways. 

Anyways, let’s get into it. Yeehaw.

What is 1872? It’s Steve/Tony in the wild west.

1872 comics are very easy to read, very short, and you need absolutely no prior knowledge to get into them; I highly recommend these as a start point for MCU fans who are curious about dipping their toes into some of the other Steve/Tony universes. And 1872 is, indeed, a Steve/Tony universe. It’s really gay, (and dramatic.) Uh. So gay, in fact, that one of the comic artists who drew pages even occasionally shares Steve/Tony shipping memes. So.

Marvel 1872 is a four issue series released as a part of the Secret Wars event; you really do not need to know anything about this to enjoy 1872, because it is a self-contained alternate universe in a “pocket dimension”, meaning it’s totally separate from the 616 cannon but technically exists in the expanse of the multiverse!

Here’s the summary:

In the Battleworld zone of 1872, Sheriff Steve Rogers faces corruption and fear in the boom town of Timely. Can Anthony Stark pull Rogers' fat from the fire? Probably not, since the only thing he seems capable of pulling is a cork from a bottle. Things in Timely are bad, and getting worse — and when a stranger arrives in town, Timely will be changed forever.

Now, to compare “regular comics Tony”, or 616 Tony, with 1872 Tony.

The main difference? 616 Tony wears this sexy little under suit (or nothing) under his armor, like this:

And 1872 Tony wears dirty, stinky one-piece pajamas under his armor (not sexy):

He’s so gross, he’s a mess. I love him. You’ll love him, too. 

No, okay. Being serious.

 616!Tony’s backstory is a lot more complicated just due to how long the character has existed, and the decades of cannon (much of it self-contradictory at points.) Like MCU Tony, 616 Tony used to manufacture weapons, experiences something life-changing, and becomes who he is as a result of this as a catalyst. 616 Tony’s backstory has been rebooted a few times, and I’m definitely not the definitive source on Iron Man lore compared to people who have read all of his comics, but I’ll try to touch on the basics.

Originally, 616 Tony Stark is shaped by his experience in the Vietnam War. This is later rebooted and changed to war in the middle East (we see this in the MCU when Tony is held captive in Afghanistan.) In both circumstances, he is taken captive after being in the air for war technology, and then he creates the suit to save his own life (losing a beloved mentor in the process, the guilt of which stays with him after.)

Tales of Suspense #39

In 1872, Tony’s formative event is the Civil War in some ways, but in other ways, this is only half of it, because this is not the event which causes him to build armor or set him onto his “become a better person” trajectory, like in the other comics. Mainly, the Civil War functions to cause Tony to stop weapons manufacturing and throw his life away down a bottle.

We get a flashback of Tony in the year 1862 with his female companion, picnicking and about to watch a battle, (rich people from the North did this in real life. If you’re interested, read more here!) We don’t get much of his past, but we discover that he is a rifle manufacturer and that he has created something called the ‘Stark Repeating Rifle’, and it seems that he has done so with the hope of encouraging a cease-fire, more than a slaughter.

Well. We don’t always get what we ask for.

Tony vows to actually never touch a weapon ever again, and this personal oath means so much to him that he gets creative at times during 1872 when he’s being chased by baddies:

Witnessing the extreme bloodshed of the Civil War, and feeling responsible for a huge amount of deaths, Tony turns to drinking, (and presumably moves to the west to escape the Pain of his Past, but this is not shown explicitly on panel; I have assumed, though, that Tony’s weapons manufacturing company was in the East, probably Boston or New York, since he comes from family money and because the American West was still “young” at this point in time so it would be unlikely that an established business would be supplying a war from lawless territory with little infrastructure.)

In 616, it’s worth noting that Tony builds the armor to save himself from danger in a war scenario; this is not the case in 1872, things unfold a bit differently. The Civil War certainly sets in motion the chain of events that eventually lead to the creation of Tony’s armor, but he’s not in physical danger or physically traumatized by the war in this verse as he is in other verses, and 616 Tony seems to have a stronger sense of duty than 1872 Tony, but this might be a complication of the depression/apathy related to the alcoholism.

What I mean by this is that both iterations of Tony struggle with alcoholism, but differently. Mainly, while 616 Tony has several alcohol themed arcs, and hits rock bottom with his alcoholism to cope with his trauma, he is sober more than he is drunk in the comics. His drinking almost kills him, and he almost loses everything because of the drink. It’s a source of enormous shame for him.

In fact, during this time in 616, I think Tony at his lowest reminds me a lot of 1872 Tony; 616 Tony is not an apathetic person and he holds himself accountable for an obscene amount of responsibility, but during what is referred to in fandom as The Second Drinking Arc, Tony basically gives up. This is the most “like” 1872 Tony, at least at the start of his arc. Rhodey takes over the mantle of Iron Man, and 616 Tony spirals, not caring whether he lives or dies, not hero-ing certainly.

We see both versions of Tony express similar sentiments, a certain cavalier attitude about their lives (and outright suicidality at other points) with nothing left but the drink.

Iron Man Vol. 1 #182

Compare with:

And you can certainly see a resemblance between this set of panels from IM v.1 #176 and in 1872:

Iron Man Vol. 1 #176 and Marvel 1872 #1

It’s a little different in 1872, where his drinking really is purely a result of his existing despair, and it doesn’t cause enormous problems for him, (minor problems, sure. He spends a lot of time drunkenly singing to Sheriff Rogers, or bothering him from the inside of a jail cell.) But this Tony lives at rock bottom, whereas 616 Tony only stays at rock bottom long enough to get his life back together (as many times as it takes.)

This Tony really doesn’t show any outward shame about his drinking; presumably, the people he knows in Timely have only ever known Tony as a drunk, and none of the people from his old life are here to see him like this. 

This is a Tony who has essentially given up on himself and has moved out West to hide from his shame and his past; this is not a Tony who is scared of letting down his friends by drinking, or scared of shirking his “duty”, because this Tony has moved away from all of his friends and has given himself no duties. He’s a bit more apathetic, but I would argue that this is not because he inherently is a less moral version of Tony, but because in this verse, he was drinking for a very long time and circumstances unfolded differently so it took him a longer time to find that sense of purpose and responsibility (beyond just shutting down manufacturing guns,) which is awakened in him by Steve Rogers. 

616 Tony’s sobriety is a major part of his character, and a conscious choice that he makes, even during some lowest points:

Civil War: The Confession

He takes some amount of pride in his sobriety, and when he does fall off the wagon at times (or magic makes everyone think he did,) it absolutely tears him up because 616 Tony cares very, very much about his sobriety and does not like who he is when he’s drinking. We do not know if 1872 Tony’s father had been a drunk or not, but we know 616 Tony’s father was, and that the drink lead to him treating Tony abusively.

Iron Man Vol. 1 #285 

Avengers Disassembled #1 (This was when ~magic~ made Tony drunk and it wrecked him breaking sobriety without ever having actually drank. Oof.)

616 Tony’s long struggle with alcoholism is a major part of his character and he has had relapses over the years and throughout the reboots, but in general, he does not drink.

1872 Tony starts drinking in 1862 and doesn’t stop until the last pages of the story, so in terms of the cannon we have for him, he is a current drunk, rather than a former drunk. This isn’t to say he doesn’t stop; but since it’s in the last page or so, it sets the reader up to imagine his sober future, rather than exploring his sobriety as 616 does. (Calling all fanfic writers!)

Anyways, both Tony’s are excellent. Both are damaged and traumatized, both are Iron Man in their own ways, both (eventually) find sobriety, both have some cute, quippy dialogue (though 616 Tony tends to be more reserved/polite for sure, in general). 

The last thing I’ll point out, is that both Tonys’ narratives are intertwined with and influenced by their respective Steve Rogers. I’m not saying soulmates but I’m saying soulmates.

Anyways. Sorry this post got super long, and I apologize if any of it is confusing or redundant, I am not functioning at my highest capacity currently. Please read 1872. Let it rock your world. Create & consume the fanworks, I would love to see a boom of 1872 content (more than the fics and art I keep making!) And my ask-box is always open!

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH.6

You wake up sometime around one. Not too late in the day given your morning. With a decent amount of sleep under your belt you roll over and start striping your bed of its sheets. Then you make your way across your room, picking up stray clothes as you go to your hamper and dump your collection of dirty linens and clothes into it. You carry the hamper to the bathroom where you load half into the washer. There's no real point in separating the clothes from colored items and pastels or whites. You're only twenty-four and don't have your life totally figured out yet. You can be a little lazy with laundry.

Once your first load of laundry is being washed you go to do your weekly tidy of your home. The one good thing that came from the paranoia of your car's break in was you rearranged all the furniture of the home, thus cleaning as you went. So that means it's more of a quick wipe down of counters and sweeping today. Maybe you'd organize your art supplies while doing your laundry. It's an activity that wouldn't distract you too much and make you forget you had laundry in the wash.

You finish washing the dishes from this morning you begin wiping the counters and tabletop when you notice your fidget cube is still on the table where Toby left it earlier.

'Don't want to lose this. Back to the bookshelf where you belong.' When you get to the living room's bookshelf you notice one of your book's is missing. Ironically it's The Book Thief.

'Tobias probably picked it up and put it down somewhere.' you'd keep your eyes peeled for the book while you cleaned.

After wiping down bookshelves, tables, counters, even the mantel over the fire place you still hadn't found your missing book. You probably picked it right up and placed it right back down without even realizing. You'll just keep an eye out until you find it. You don't even reread books, you really just kept a copy to lend out to people when they ask what your favorite books are. It isn't a real big deal if you can't find it, plus there's bound to be a copy floating somewhere in a thrift shop or yard sale.

The washer chimes right as you grab the broom to sweep. Pausing this task to go retrieve your laundry and do the rest. You empty the dirty clothes left in the basket onto the floor and place the clean wet ones inside the basket. After starting the final load you carry the basket out back. As nice as this home is its still small and doesn't have a dryer, which early summer is fine but come fall and winter might be more cumbersome. Seeing as you have to hang the laundry out to dry outside. Maybe when it gets cold you'll just do smaller loads and hang them up in the bathroom or over the fire place. But that's a thought for future you. Right now current you is struggling yet again to get a fitted sheet to sit on the line. Fitted sheets are probably Satan himself in disguise.

When you finish stringing all the laundry up you take a moment to just enjoy the quiet and the peace that comes with the outside. It's nice out here, maybe after you finish the last few chores today you can come out and just draw, it'd be a good way to also keep an eye on this weather in case it turns. While it hasn't happened yet you're very aware of the risks you take by ignoring the existence of meteorologists. And by that you mean just not bothering to look up the weather for the day.

Heading back inside you restart your task of sweeping. Like you thought you've finished before the washer has even completed it's first cycle. The house isn't too big so it's easy to clean it from top to bottom within a day normally, but today you had even less to do thanks to this week's rearranging. So you move on to organizing your art supplies and separating all materials by medium.

Of course arranging materials is never easy, after all you end up staring at all your horded empty sketch books and note how your thumbnail notebooks are just covered in doodles and random scribbles but no real art or ideas. Maybe it's time to start kicking yourself into gear. You ran into a major period of burnout before moving and now with this fresh start you might be able to focus on progressing with art, even if you don't pursue it as a career. You've always loved the ability to draw and create images that make others happy. But right in this moment you just want to make yourself happy. Maybe you could start small just a few still lifes and see how you feel after that.

Hearing the chime of the washer you hurry to finish putting away the supplies in their newly assigned places. Just as before you transfer the wet and clean clothes into the awaiting basket and take them out to be hung to dry. You don't have another fitted sheet this go round so it goes by much faster than it previously had. Now with all of your washing for today hung you head back inside to grab a fresh sketchbook.

Having never been one for scenery, more of a portrait artist, you start off with small things. A few stills of a flower under the window, the old tire swing on the tree, and even the blue jay that dove for dinner right in front of you. Of course all of these were warm ups done in a few minutes, though you really wish you had more time on the blue jay one. You really need practice with things that aren't people.

The warm ups of course don't look very good, but you can still see what you'd been going for. The hatching and smudging you'd done, to increase depth and give the quick drawing more life, did help a little but it was clear this was an area where you weren't skilled. But that didn't deter you, after all you  needed more practice and wouldn't be getting better without it.

Deciding to draw the scene before you, a small open meadow surrounded by trees, in other words your backyard with your drying laundry. You start off slow and make sure to actually look and take in the yard in front of you, doing your best to not just make up the trees and their shapes as you go. Soon you are lost in the meditative muscle memory of drawing. The scratching of pencil scrapping across paper further lulling you into a trance like state as you etch out the scenery.

A harsh breeze blows through and the loud flapping of sheet hitting sheet knocks you loose from your trance. Checking to make sure none of your laundry was flying off, it hadn't the laundry was still secured to the line. Smiling you glance down to actually see what you've sketched out so far. It isn't too bad, though you aren't sure how long you've been working on it, the trees all have a distinct shape rather than your typical cartoon one size fits all attempts. Scanning the page your eyes catch onto something off, out in the tree line it looks like you'd drawn a figure hiding behind a tree.

Hearing the beating of your heart that's currently hammering against your chest you look around. Did your mind do that as a joke or had someone genuinely been watching you draw? Your mouth is dry as your eyes scan the tree line for any sign of what could've been mistaken for a person, but you saw nothing. No one was there. Had anyone ever really been there? Why would you draw that? Why wouldn't you remember doing it? You don't feel safe out here anymore. There are eyes watching you you can feel it. They may not physically be there but the phantom eyes that surround you and cause your skin to crawl make sure you know of their presence. You take that as a sign to head inside for the evening, one that doesn't need to be repeated.

You lock the door immediately behind you and check your phone. It's seven, and you have an email notification. Thanking whatever power for the distraction you slide down your back door and open the notification. It's from Hollis!

YN r u  coming to SND? It's that teen beach zombie movie u love. Y;know the awful D list one Blk and wht with the 50yos playing teenagers

Lemme know I'll save your seat.

Sent 6:47 P.M.

They're so sweet to remember you loved this awful D list zombie movie. Horrible subplots and main plot and all. But you're a little spooked right now and watching even that joke of a horror movie is probably too much for you. You doubt you'd feel better by the time ten rolls around to watch it. Not to mention your battery's still drained from Toby this morning. And knowing for a fact you'd probably stay late to talk till morning with Hollis, Jake, and Kirby you decide it's best to skip this week. Just not having the energy to handle Saturday Night Dead.

Nah, sorry man. Battery's dead from being social earlier. Thanks tho, I do appreciate you! ….....,.... lemme know what next week's movie is!

Sent 7:10 P.M.

It'd probably be a good time to make something for dinner, there's a box of mac n cheese in the pantry. Simple but always beloved. As you wait for Hollis to respond you start on boiling water. But you didn't have to wait too long since they'd answered near instantly.

Chill, don worry we'll catch ya next week

…..oooop

ot not...Kirb's said it's the start of watching the entire warren file collection

starting from the beginning

...well the first movie released, Insidious. LOL we probs won't ever see you again.

Sent 7:12 P.M.

How dare Kirby betray you like this. First off those movies are awful, and like not cheesy awful just awful awful. Not to mention he knows how you feel about the Warrens and their cases. You have a power point presentation ready for that dick the next time you see him. ...well not literally but you'd make one to prove a point!

Where's Kirby now? I just wanna talk, I just wanna talk is all.

Sent 7:18 P.M.

Already ran off toy vermont probably

will we get blessed with a ted talk nxt week?

Sent 7:20 P.M.

I can't tell if you're joking or not. If you aren't then yea I can make a power point and we'll play that instead of the movies. Every week until this town understands the severity of this.

Sent 7:21 P.M.

Ya just jkin.

Your passionate hate is funny tho, so could be good to do something mid warren marathon.

Sent 7:23 P.M.

Guess the dissertation on how horrendous the “exorcisms” were will have to wait. They'd just been joking. This is probably a good ending of the conversation anyway, it's hard to tell sometimes but you feel you'll just run in circles with the current topic or worse fall into a rant that they won't read all the way through because they'll have left with the rest of the stunt gang to get dinner before heading over to the Cryptonomica for Saturday Night Dead. Hollis is typically a real good sport about this kinda thing but you'd rather not bog down their night with your hate boner for the Warrens.

'I'll let them know later that I'll still come to Saturday Night Dead next week.' you think as you dump the pasta into the water that finally came to a boil. It's quiet as you cook your macaroni dinner. You'd normally not notice the lack of sound or life in your home before, but maybe having Connor and Toby over put things into perspective. Guests aren't really a thing you've ever had, you always feel rude if your social battery runs out before someone's stay is over. But maybe you're lonely, and it's put you on edge.

Though this week would've put anyone on edge, you have still been alone in this house for two months. That can't be healthy for your mental well being, humans are social creatures by nature after all. Maybe you could get a pet, something that'd make it's fair share of noise and give the home a bit more life than your normally hollow shell wondering the halls. Are you even sure you want a pet? Do you have time for one? You have the standard nine to five, but what about when you're off on a nightly trip because of your sleeplessness? What if you forgot about them? Hell your brain's been so foggy these last few months, it wouldn't be surprising.

Like a sign from the divine themselves, the pot of water boils over. Steam is rising as the sizzling is heard. Your head snaps twice to the right as you scramble to lower the heat and raise the pot off the eye. Putting it down on an unused eye you give it a quick stir and thankfully no pasta got burned to the bottom of the pan....this time. The pasta seems a little crunchy but a texture you'll eat so you kill the hot eye and start on the cheese portion of your mac n cheese.

As you eat you continue your original debate about getting a pet. Ultimately deciding that you just aren't ready for that kind of responsibility right now. Sure you'd had tons of pets in your parents' home but that was with a financial safety net and back when your mental health wasn't all over the place. Not to mention the pets were family pets and responsibility was split three ways.

There isn't much room in your home for you to have a roommate, and that presents a whole nother set of challenges. You could try to make friends through online forums again! It's hard to talk to people in general but you always get scared off before replying to a comment or post. Or overshare to the point people infantize you. Even better trying therapy out could help with your loneliness. Hah ok good one, even if you had money for it consistently you don't think you could trust someone knowing all your secrets but not knowing any of theirs. And while that in and of it self is an example of why you need it, you're rational enough to realize you aren't ready for that either.

After finishing your meal you put away the left overs and clean the dishes. You'll be happier tomorrow knowing they aren't your problem to deal with. You start to make your way to your bedroom but freeze just before the hall.

'You shouldn't stay here...you need to leave.'

A glance at the time tells you it's eight thirty-nine, if you left right now you could make it to Saturday Night Dead with time to spare. You don't need to fill the loneliness with new friends, just spend time with the ones you already have. Duh. Turning you grab your keys off the bookshelf and take one of the masks hanging from a hook by the door.

Checking your door was locked and locking your car once you were in, you're ready to drive. Knowing you're still overstimulated you forgo the music on this drive, hoping it will calm you down enough to enjoy the movie and some down time with friends. And that would help put a pin in your self isolating habits. It'd really be nice if you brought movie snacks over to surprise the gang. You're pretty sure the mini mart carries everything you need. Jake likes swedish fish, Hollis is addicted to those extreme sour airhead ropes, and Kirby's a weirdo with his love of red vines and surge. Hahaha that man will die before he's thirty-eight.

Still having the extra time you deiced to stop by the mini mart and grab the candy. What's the worse that can happen you have another panic attack in front of strangers. Plus you hadn't seen Magnolia the last few times and you'd hate for her to think you'd been ignoring her. Pulling into the empty mini mart parking lot you take a breath to steel your resolve before leaving your car.

Tim looks at the door when he hears the chime and stiffens when he sees you. Fuck you did have a panic attack in front of this guy last night, plus you really haven't formally met. But didn't Toby say his roommate was named Tim? And he and Brian were both here talking with Tim last night before you came in. That can't be coincidence.

“uh...hi?” you say awkwardly standing in the doorway, door closed behind you.

“um, hi?” perfect he's just as awkward in this situation as you are. You can work with this.

Moving through the first two isles you keep your eyes peeled for Magnolia, even though you can make this an in and out trip for candy, you do miss the little bodega cat.

“Wh- hey are you, are you even ok to be here?” Tim calls as he rounds the counter and makes his way to you.

“Huh? Oh...oh yea. I'm chill now.” you hear the bell before you see her. The little ting tin ting of her bell that comes with the grace only fluffy cats have.

“You literally collapsed on the floor last night after blacking out while driving.” his tone is very stern. He and Nate would probably get on like a house on fire. The grumpy old men who secretly care a lot duo.

“I don't remember collapsing...but I know I didn't drive.” well you don't know that but you do firmly believe that.

The man is just turning into the isle when you spot the floof sauntering just behind him. Magnolia didn't spare either of you a glance as she made her way to the counter. Probably going to her bed, an old shipping box for apples, you'd just meet her over there then. With no warning to the man you squeeze past him and and follow the cat. Agitated footsteps following after you in your quest to pet the cat.

Magnolia perks up upon seeing you, the flicking of her tail letting you know she's anticipating her pets. The huffing Tim hovering behind you isn't as pleased with your actions as the cat is. The man is radiating negativity, annoyance maybe or is it concern that breeds frustrated anger? The second he starts to clear his throat, as if to remind you of his hovering, you roll your eyes.

Looking back at him over your shoulder you see him in all his grumpy man glory.  His brow was furrowed so hard his thick eyebrows nearly covered his eyes. But with the way his lips emoted the man before you looked more like a pouting muppet. It would be funny if it weren't for the foreboding feeling of the moments before being reprimanded by a teacher.

When you straighten up you take note that your eyes meet perfectly. He's the same height as you that's surprising, you thought he'd be taller than 5'7. His eyes widen slightly at seeing your full height, it must've thrown him off since the first time he saw you, you'd actively been trying, and had succeeded at looking smaller.

“What are you doing here?” well he doesn't get thrown off for long.

Running a hand through Magnolia's fur a few more times as you respond, “Petting Magnolia.” you really are a little shit sometimes.

“No...no, why are you out? Toby had to take you home last night, you shouldn't just be waltzing around town after that.” maybe it was frustrated concern.

“Oh I'm fine now.”

Magnolia at this point has jumped up on the counter and is headbutting you for more attention. Chuckling you turn your attention back to her. Meanwhile Tim behind you is at a loss for words.

“Fine?? You don't just...bounce back from a panic attack.”there's personal experience behind those words.

“I just rationalize things fast.” Hearing the trill of the clock on the wall reminds you that you need to grab those snacks and head over to the Cryptonomica for movie night.

Going to the candy isle you grab one of each of the gang's favorites, you snag a bag of white cheddar popcorn on the way to the counter and place your items there. Tim doesn't get a word out before you rush off to the cooler near the back that is in all honesty pretty sketch. Like who even makes  Fruitopia anymore? That stuff got discontinued in the early 2000s. The cooler even has Hi-C Ecto Coolers...you might actually check if they're in date and grab a few.

Rummaging around the cooler you finally spot the weird tech green and black splattered can proudly stating SURGE. It has no date...questionable at best. But hey it's only Kirby drinking it, and it's been well established that man will die well before middle age.   Grabbing a can to check the Ecto Coolers, luck is on your side! These cans are from the re-release that happened as a promotion for the Ghostbusters revival a few years back, they'll be good for another two years! For now you'll just take one so you won't have to worry about lugging cans around for the movie.

Once your new items are placed on the counter the expression on Tim's face cannot even be described. The questions of the surge are probably the ones easiest to read...or they're just the most predictable.

“Kirby likes red vines and surge, sickening right?” Maybe a little joke will break the ice.

“...Like that little round pink...thing?”  What?

The laughter is coming out before you can stop it, the image of said pink Kirby consuming red vines and surge only to accessorize as your friend comes to mind. It's adorable and cursed at the same time. Adorably cursed. You'll have to draw that and print a few copies to hang around the Cryptonomica.

“No,” you're choking on giggles at this point, “Kirby, the owner of the Cryptonomica.��� catching your breath and regaining your composure, “It's that tourist trap just across from the RV park.”

“Oh.” normally such a short cold reply would make you shut down the conversation. But This is Toby's roommate, and if you want to be friends with Toby, you'll probably run into him a lot more. Plus if he's a new night shift cashier it wouldn't hurt to be on good terms with him for when you're out on adventures.

“Yea, hey Toby mentioned you three just came to town, so you might not have known but the Cryptonomica does a weekly movie night on Saturdays. Saturday Night Dead. Normally it's awful old horror movies but next week they're starting a Warren Case files “arch”.” Tim doesn't take the conversation bait at the pause.

“It's a great way to meet other locals, you guys should check it out if you get the chance. It starts at ten and runs till one or so on most weeks.” Olive branch has been extended.

Tim relaxes for the first time since you got here tonight. The sheepish look on his face and twitchy pupils give the impression he's thinking it over. He sighs and nods before saying, “Yea, that sounds...nice.”

Olive branch skeptically taken! You'll count this one as a win in your book. With the mood lightened Tim breaks the ice a bit further.

“Surge and red vines can not be good for you.”

“Right! If living off mountain dew and pizza rolls doesn't kill him, this for sure will.” you both have a small laugh at that. It's nice to finally have cleared up the mix up from the beginning of the week. Which reminds you.

“Oh...um...I'm YN by the way. It's nice to meet you...sorry for the two,” your neck tics to the side, “previous nights.” you finish.

“Tim...and it,uh happens sometimes...'s fine.” Score awkward acknowledgment of previous meetings and you can now erase those from your nightly anxieties.

Tim finishes ringing and bagging your items and you pay. Giving another pet to the curled up kitty on the counter you nod farewell to Tim.

A trill rings out from the clock on the wall. It's ten.

Two heads snap to look at the wall. You take a second glance at your phone while Tim checks his watch. Both say the clock on the wall is correct. But it just turned nine not even ten minutes ago. Right? You can brush off yourself loosing track of time but when you involve another person that just doesn't make sense. Tim looks just as concerned as you. Only Magnolia lays unaffected by the lost fifty minutes.

“I should go.” Tim nods numbly to you as you exit the store.

You won't be able to make it to the movie, well you could but you'd disturb someone if you walked in mid movie. Choosing to go home instead you drive, once again without music. Entering your home you hang your mask back on the hook. Putting away the drinks and snacks for next weekend, you make your way to your bedroom. Once again freezing just before the hallway. Turning to your living room you can see a book in the middle of your coffee table. You definitely don't remember the book being there, and doubt you'd miss it out in the open. But as you got closer you could confirm, even in the dark, that it was The Book Thief.

[shardminds]

silver for monsters (1/?)

pairing: emma swan/killian jones rated: e for extra (in later chapters) wc: almost 5k ish

No matter the truth, he carries the weight of her corpse like a shadow. 

also available on ao3! ♠

it's my cssns submission!

firstly, a thank you to the wonderful mods for organising and facilitating the event! where would we be without you? and also the cssns discord — you lovely humans are just fantastic.

secondly, i owe my wonderful partner-in-crime, beta and artist (this fic has art, people! coming soon!) my life. she deserves more than i could ever give her. love you, salem! give killy a cuddle from me!

now, a note about the fic. this is a witcher au, using inspiration from the witcher games, books and TV show. i have pulled inspiration from all 3. just a fair warning, considering the nature of the witcher universe, there will be gratuitous violence in some scenes. i will be adding characters and tags as they appear in the work to abstain from spoilers but i will let you know in advance that there is no major character death.

happy reading!

“Fuck!”

The cockatrice rears up, flapping its enormous wings and lunging straight for him, talons poised for attack. At full height, it’s almost three times his size—an intimidating sight, but not an unfamiliar one. Killian dodges at the last second, rolling beneath the dirt-encrusted claws and narrowly avoiding the beak that follows to impale him. If he hadn’t thrown out his palm to cast Quen in time, he’d have been thrown across the sewer, probably landing in one of the many questionable pools littering the place. The beast rights itself, elongating its sinuous throat to prepare for its next attack but Killian is faster, springing to action in its short reprieve. His blade strikes true, the sharpened silver slicing from neck to navel through leathery flesh. A choked shriek pierces the cavernous echo around them but it does nothing to hinder his attack. Killian twists his weapon deeper, severing the thick sinew in its throat with a precision only gained from decades of practice.

The draconid oil he’d prepared had done well to weaken the monster, each touch of his sword against tough hide was met with a harrowing screech, each one emanating from its maw with a sickening gurgle as Killian’s coated sword seared its innards. Good. At least the ergot seeds used in its creation hadn’t gone to waste. The common weeds don’t grow this far east of Misthaven.

One final twist is all it takes, tearing out the creature’s windpipe in all its bloody glory, falling to the filth below, darkening the murk beneath its claws. It shudders, struggling for breath, but continues to advance. The guttural gurgle of its demise falling hollow in the dank expanse. Power simmers in Killian’s fingertips as he throws out his palm to cast Aard, shunting the beast backwards and knocking it off balance.

With a heavy thud, the cockatrice falls—

Right into a puddle of shit.

“Oh, that’s bloody lovely.” He grits out, wiping the sludge from where it splattered on his trousers. He’d been planning to start the ride back west, to the familiar place he was reluctant to call anything but that. He’d been planning to take rest between contracts, among the hamlets of Velen, stopping only to deliver the head of the beast and collect his bounty before taking to the path at full speed.

Now he’d have to fork out for an inn.

And a stable.

And a drink.

Bloody lovely, indeed.

Slipping the dagger from his boot to take his trophy—evidence of a job well done—Killian kneels next to the beast’s shredded neck and begins to cut. It takes a couple of minutes, the toughened hide of the beast proving more difficult than expected, but Killian manages to decapitate the thing without too much protest. Despite being smothered in excrement, both human and ornithosaur in origin, Killian wraps up the head in a linen sheet he’d acquired from the last inn he’d visited, slinging the thing over his shoulder to attach to Smee’s saddlebag for the ride into town. It’s hefty, already seeping dark ichor through the fabric, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. Nothing he hasn’t handled a thousand times before.

Shit-stained or not, there’s little people love more than dead monsters.

In his periphery, there’s a shimmer of something long and thin and sharp beneath the ooze of the dead heap.

Feathers. Golden Feathers.

They’d sell for a fair price at any market but, with a wry smile, someone else comes to Killian’s mind. He plucks the protruding tail feathers with a delicate hand and slides them in his scabbard for later. Robin will be pleased.

Smee lingers by the sewer’s decaying entrance, chomping on the greenery of a shallow blackberry thicket without care. Seeing him brings ease to Killian’s bones. The walk to Camelot would be a lot more arduous without him. The dimming sunlight brings out the russet in his hide and he snorts as if to acknowledge the presence of his master. Smee has seen him through so much, his steed for over a decade now, and even as a colt he had stayed true to his commands. He rears his head, giving a soft huff in greeting as Killian reaches out to rub his muscular neck.

“Hello to you too, lad.” He soothes, securing the trophy with thick leather straps to Smee’s saddlebags. It thuds against his hind leg as he shifts to accommodate for the extra weight but Killian talks him through it. “You can rest tonight. We deserve it.”

Smee, ever the conversationalist, responds with a snort. Something Killian would translate as about damn time.

The hunt for the cockatrice had taken longer than he'd anticipated, the cursed beast leading them astray for days before finally returning to roost in the sewers of all places. The sorcerer in these parts—Merlin, he’d said his name was—had informed him it would. They’d sent hunters, knights, even mages to deal with their pest, but none had returned; either fleeing from the beast or succumbing to it.

With the head of the monster firmly attached, Killian steps up into the stirrup and mounts his steed, heels tapping against his belly to spur him forward, back towards the city. With a reluctant snort and a slow start, Smee carries both the Witcher and his cargo to their destination.

It’s long past nightfall by the time they reach the oaken gates and marble paved roads leading to Camelot. It’s a damn sight better than the gravel paths back in Misthaven. The approach to the city is announced with sconces attached to grand flags bearing the sigil of the king, inlaid with gold detailing. A gaudy display of wealth if ever there was one.

Up ahead, before the city entrance, Killian can just about make out the silhouette of a man in robes of purple and gold. Power radiates off him and it trembles in the wolf head pendant resting atop Killian’s chest, even from over 100 yards away. Smee trots closer, almost lazy in his approach. He doesn’t halt until they’re stood before the man who greets them warmly, with a kind face and a gentle smile. Merlin, the sorcerer.

Killian doesn’t trust it.

“I see you’ve dealt with the beast, my friend.” Merlin starts.

“I see you don’t intend to let me in.”

The sorcerer nods at the assumption, as if reluctant to do so and holds out the pouch of coin. Killian lets it thud into his palm. It weighs about right so he doesn’t bother to question it before tucking the payment into Smee’s saddlebag. It’s more than any common contract would afford him.

“The King has requested—”

“The King can go fuck himself.” With a flick of his knife, Killian cuts free his cargo, letting the head of the beast slip to the floor. It cracks on impact, spilling the crimson gore inside, smelling only of death and decay. Iron and rot. Merlin doesn’t recoil, instead choosing to step around and inspect the shattered mass. Mages like him, in positions of power beside volatile Kings, tend to be more accustomed to such displays.

If the stories of King Arthur’s conquests are true, it’s no surprise.

“With your reputation, Witcher,” He starts, prodding the bloodied heap with his foot. It lols to the side, mottled beak clacking against the path. “Do you really think Arthur would take such a risk?”

Killian could not give less of a shit about the opinion of Kings. Especially not ones of lands that dictated their monarchy based on whoever could yank a sword from the sodden shit coated earth. If that were the universal basis for royalty, he’d be King three times over. Merlin waves his hand over the mess of brains and bone, vanishing the mound into nothing and leaving only pristine stone behind. Smee stiffens, sensing the otherness of the man so close to his rear.

With unnatural grace, Merlin steps back to his place between them and the gate, unwavering in his resolution.

“Rumours of the Golden Bride have spread further than you think.”

Of course. Ravens travel faster than horses these days. What happened back in Kovir—

People tend to trust Kings over Mutants, no matter the truth. Killian grunts, the only sign of the tension in his bones in the way he grips the worn leather reins, knuckles taught and surely white beneath his gloves.

“Next time,” He grunts, not flinching at the mention of his past. “Pay upfront. Spare me the journey back.”

Merlin opens his mouth to respond but it’s too late. With probably more force than necessary, Killian kicks Smee into action, turning him to ride away from the white brick barrier that separates him from a good night's sleep before the sorcerer can protest. His work here is done. His contract ended. If they won’t let him into the city, he has no reason to stay. Bath and a bed be damned.

There’s nothing for him here.

They ride onwards.

Killian slows his steed to a gentle trot as soon as they cross the border into Temeria, a silent apology in the calm stroke of his palm behind Smee’s ears.

Moonlight bathes the vast fields of wheat in an ethereal glow. Nekkers peer through the tall sheaves to watch him pass, following him as far as they dare. His medallion thrums with their proximity, the pendant rattling against his mail. If it were any other day, he’d have torn through the harvest, taking down the bastards with broad swoops of his blade. Not today, though. The cockatrice had drained more from him than he initially thought. There’d been no time to brew potions to remedy his weariness, and his supply of dwarven spirit was alarmingly low. The next apothecary along the path would take a beating from his coin purse, that much is certain.

Midnight comes and goes before the path widens into the well trodden roads of more populated areas and more hours pass before they even stumble across an inn shrouded in forest. It’s decrepit and musky, but an inn all the same. It’ll have to do. Killian can tell by the bray of his travelling companion that he won’t last until the next one. There’s water and hay in the mossy overhang out front, its ancient wood almost rotted through but still secure enough to attach Smee’s reins to the post. An old silver mare secured closest to the inn takes one sniff at Killian and sneezes.

“That bad?”

Smee nudges him in response. That bad.

The inside of the inn is as ancient and forgotten as the exterior; thick stone walls, cobwebbed beams, a bar made of mottled oak with ring stains of old ale covering its surface. Upon Killian’s entry, the landlord nods, his pallid skin as thin as paper. The sickness he holds will kill him, it lingers in the shadows beneath his eyes and the pale flesh of his gums as he smiles, with too much joviality.

“Room for the night, is it?”

He will not see the summer.

Killian drops fifteen crowns on the bar, watching the old man’s eyes widen at their shine. “Along with a bath and a bottle of your strongest.”

“Right away, my friend!” He shuffles along, reaching for a slender greying glass bottle that he places on the bar top, before disappearing altogether. The other bar patrons stay quiet, lulled to the edge of listless sleep by the fire crackling in the hearth and the ale in their bellies—gwent games unfinished, tankards half full. Not wanting to follow their lead in sleeping on the hard benches, Killian waits at the bar. He takes a swig, letting the liquid coat his throat in its familiar fire. There are better ways to cope. There are better ways to fend off the dark that threatens to swallow him whole but nothing works quite as well as the burn alcohol leaves behind. Well, usually that’s the case.

Minutes pass and his thoughts, however reluctantly, stray back to Merlin’s earlier words.

The Golden Bride.

Killian had killed her. Killed her, raped her, tortured her, ate her liver, stole the unborn child from her stomach as a payment to the eternally damned gods of old, used her blood for his mutations—the stories change depending on where you are. Nilfgaardians prefer the gory stuff whereas, up in Kovir, they favour the lighter tales. She was their Queen, after all.

The one he couldn’t save.

Each burning gulp helps less and less.

When the dying barkeep waves him over, brandishing a rusted key and an armful of tattered blankets, the burn has gone and only Killian’s thoughts remain.

No matter the truth, he carries the weight of her corpse like a shadow.

The room is barely bigger than a broom closet and the old man has the courtesy to look ashamed of his meagre offerings. It doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, a bed is a bed. Along the way, Killian has learnt not to make attachments to the materialistic.

In the centre of the narrow room, manoeuvred between the end of the dusty four-poster bed and the fireplace, stands a solid wooden bath. The water, lukewarm to the touch and stagnant, comes to life with a flick of his palm and a whisper of “Igni”. Killian doesn’t even bother to be neat, letting his weapons, armour, potions, and coin fall to what little floor space there is available before letting himself sink naked into the warmth. The agitated boil helps to shift the stubborn muck customary of weeks on the path.

How long had it been since his last? A few days, maybe? A week? He’d taken a brief dip in the river just outside Camelot before embarking on his quest— had it really been that long? No wonder the mare had turned her nose up. No wonder Merlin had regarded him with such polite distance.

He’d been wandering around smelling like a Necrophage’s anal gland and no one had bothered to tell him. Not that anyone could tell him. That’s the thing with always being on the path—the only things to talk to are your horse or your hunt.

Monsters aren’t always the best conversationalists.

The waters lap away the aches set deep in his bones, settling each worn muscle with its tender embrace. It’s a luxury he can nary afford, but it’s worth it when he can. When he exits, smelling of old soap and lavender, there is only black silt left behind. A dark mirror on the liquid’s surface. He won’t be able to use it again. He takes his underclothes to the small basin by the bedside to soak instead, too tired to even consider spending any more time away from the clutches of sleep.

For the first time in a long time, he’s asleep before his head hits the pillow. The exhaustion of the weeks passed weighing his bones like lead, as if they’d sink straight through the mattress and into the nether below. He wishes they would.

“Killian.”

He jerks awake—no, not awake. Further into the embrace of a dream. Oppressive darkness and silence surround him, his keenest senses rendered useless in their wake. Beneath him, a plush leather armchair. It’s painfully familiar. Precious, somewhat. Worn and comfortable and moulded to him as if he’d spent a century sat only here. This dreamscape. This void.

Oneiromancy. Perfect.

“Killian.”

A woman’s voice— her voice.

“Emma.”

“And I thought you’d forgotten about me.” She smiles, suddenly appearing in his lap, hips straddling his thighs as if it hadn’t been almost five years since they’d last parted. Five long, arduous years.

“Impossible, love. You’re not so easy to forget.” Killian can feel the steady beat of her heart as his hands take her waist. Soft, so soft.

And centuries old.

“You never thought to stop by on your travels then?”

“The path is—”

“Don’t lecture me. I know,” Pouting, she brings her arms around Killian’s neck. The thin swath of lace she’s wearing does nothing to hide her figure but its intricacies marr the details he wants very much to focus on; the blush of her breasts, the swell of her arse, what lies between those slender legs. Each time he tries to take her in, see past the veil of fabric, it shifts, obscuring his gaze once more. Fucking magic. “But I have missed you terribly.”

“Emma Swan, legendary sorceress and advisor to the throne of Misthaven, missing but a lowly Witcher?” The pale expanse of her neck calls for his kiss, so close and yet so far. “People will talk.”

With a violet flash, Emma winks. “Noise complaints, hopefully.”

His eyes slip shut, trying to maintain what little composure he has left. As disconcerting as dream magic is, he doesn’t want the spell to end. The feel of her so close is maddening. Waking to an empty bed will be torture.

Words he can’t possibly say nor mean jump to his throat, aching to be whispered against her mouth, passed to her tongue by his own as they had longed to so many times in the past. They burn.

“Come see me.”

“Emma—”

“I need you. I can’t tell you why—not here—but I need you.” There’s a silent plea hidden in her words, behind the typical bravado she always favours. He almost doesn’t catch it. She adjusts herself slightly, sitting back on his knees and letting her hands reverently trace the scars across his shoulders and chest. Ones she’s seen before and ones she hasn’t, long healed but still raw to her touch. It’s been too long. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and it takes every modicum of restraint he has not to kiss her there and then. “Come to King David’s court in Misthaven. There’s a tourney one week from now.”

“I’m sensing I don’t have a choice.”

“Of course you have a choice. It’s in your best interests to make the right one.”

Killian sighs, letting his palms slide from her middle to her thighs, taking in the phantom warmth he’s missed so greatly. Emma Swan is an enigma. She’s centuries of power wrapped in mystery and untold sorrows and it lingers beneath her skin. She’s the first kiss of morning sun, the dark chill of winter, the wild lilacs that grow along the dirt roads of Misthaven. She’s true love’s first kiss and the denial of destiny. She’s nothing and everything, the beginning and the end.

And, occasionally, his.

“One week?” He muses, hyper focused on the way her nails feel against his skin, as if she were there, as if it were real. Her eyes, green as woodland moss, captivate him in the way they always used to, but they’re not the same. A mere mimicry. Beneath his fingers, the dream begins to fall away.

There’s no depth, just a glimmer of magic below the surface.

Everything’s hollow and when he finally presses his lips to her fading visage, all he tastes is ash, dirt and the absence of all things.

“One week.”

It echoes around the cramped room, a whisper in the darkness not yet reached by morning’s soft first touches. A reminder.

Killian almost missed it. Misthaven. It’s rolling hills and wildflower meadows, deep green forests free of ill fated fiends. Well, mostly free—wraiths and rotfiends are everywhere these days, especially after the war. If they weren’t, he’d be out of a job.

In the five days on the path, across the forgotten poppy-filled battlefields and open plains of Temeria, Killian didn’t encounter much trouble. The first two days were monotonous, non-stop riding through the day and night, brief pauses for food, water and rest.

The day after that saw a kikimora rear its ugly maw as Smee cantered past its roadside hovel, swiping out with its blade-like limbs in an attempt to take out the horse’s legs — it took three swipes of his blade to take it down, the starving queen letting out a defeated whine as glinting silver pierced through her armour and into her brain. Killian left a bomb in his wake, making sure none of her spawn would see the light of day.

Day four drove him closer to the ruins of Vizima, it’s grand stone walls now bleak and crumbled. Killian had been around when it fell, only a few years beneath his belt on the path as the Nilfgaardians withdrew their tyranny. They razed the city, with fire and blood, so that the North would remember what the clutches of Emperor Emhyr var Emreis. The self-proclaimed white flame dancing on the graves of his enemies sputtered and faded just like everyone else on this mortal coil. The flames had kept him warm one night, decades ago, as the fallen city smouldered.

Misthaven greets the horizon on day five. It’s unperturbed woodland gracing his path with an archway formed of two entwined enchanted oaks, their magic forms the base of the wards that surround the city and the sheer power of it is a familiar thrum of energy that has his medallion singing as Smee trots over the border. In the thick bramble bushes beside the sheltered road, fairies shield themselves from view, their sugar plum scent hangs on the air as heavy as horse shit. There’s something he hasn’t missed. After half a mile or so, the rattle of his medallion becomes barely noticeable, a gentle simmer rather than a raucous boil.

Instead of taking the northern road at Lake Nostos towards the bustling city and the castle of King David, they turn to the east, along a too familiar, although far less trodden, path.

Smee huffs at his choices, resisting the tug of his reins.

Killian rolls his eyes. “Don’t you start.”

The Rabbit Hole is, in Killian’s eyes, better than most. Being just outside the city, tucked up against the eastern entrance’s vine smothered portcullis, not many people stumble through its doors by accident. However, with its vast stone hearth, sturdy oak beams and a half decent cellar, the place could weather the harshest Skellige storm with nary but a draught. Ale, food, music and good company. It’s… nice, for lack of a better word.

And, despite the nature of his work, it’s somewhere Killian keeps coming back to. Regardless of the years between his visits.

Smee, ever the dramatic, saunters over to the water-filled trough cemented to the tavern's stable, eagerly eyeing up the hay-filled feedbag beside it. At least, he’ll get a chance to rest as Killian gets his own fill. Haphazardly, he knots Smee’s reins to the hitching post, leaving just enough slack for him to be able to reach his amenities and socialise with the unsaddled gelding tied up on the other side of the post.

Killian pulls his coin purse from his steed’s saddlebags, knowing full well he’ll spend it one way or another. The door swings open before he can even tap the shit off his boots.

“You took your time, Captain.” Will Scarlet, with his signature troublesome smirk, is upon him in an instant, arms thrown around Killian’s shoulders, squeezing tightly as his skinny arms allow. He’d never been one for heavy lifting, more interested in wielding a lyre than a sword, and it shows in the way he greets his old friend as if it hasn’t been almost five years since Killian left him in Toussaint in the bed of a baroness whose husband had not been best pleased to find him there. The stench of Mahakaman mead on the bard’s breath permeates the air. The half-decade has barely touched him.

It hasn’t touched Killian either but, then again, mutations will do that to a man.

“Is that what they’re calling me now?”

Will peels himself away, stumbling back into the oak door frame that knocks the air right out of him with an oof. His brow furrows ever so slightly and someone from the other side of the dimly lit pub chortles at his discomfort. Will throws an obscene gesture his way before coming to Killian’s side instead.

“Just roll with it mate, you wouldn’t like the alternative.”

Killian shrugs. Murderer, Mutant, Devil— “I have been called worse.”

The bard nods in agreement, letting Killian step over the threshold and into the dark innards of the inn. They both have. Back when they travelled together, there was nary a day that insults weren’t hurled their way. Killian never had the chance to apologise back then, and it doesn’t seem right to bring it up now.

Will looks… happy.

“Anyway,” He starts, falling back on his chipper tone and catching Killian off guard as he hops over the bar top with ease, grabbing a tankard on his way. “To what do I owe the pleasure?

“I’m not too sure of that myself.”

Will places the tankard before him, full of a sweet smelling dark ale. “No contract?”

Killian knocks back the mug in one, letting the slightly soured brew flavour his tongue. It’s better than the pig swill he’s settled for along the Path. Then again, Will always was one with good taste; always the finest inns, the grandest company, lining his pockets with the gold of diplomats and dukes alike. Despite all that, The Rabbit Hole suits him, dust and dirt be damned. He hum’s, considering how to answer, before settling for the simplest one. “No.”

“No valiant quest?”

Killian shrugs.

“Ah,” Eyeing him knowingly while taking a sip from his own cup with a smug smile, Will hums. They’ve known each other long enough now for him to be able to read between the lines. “A summons then.”

“Can’t I just stop by and visit an old friend?”

“Theoretically, yes. But that’s not in your nature is it, mate.” There’s a pause. Someone laughs from the other side of the room, lit only by a handful of candles to fend off the dark even in the daylight. Will doesn’t even blink, drumming out a rhythm on the countertop, wearing an ever present smile. “Especially knowing that there’s a certain sorceress within the city walls.”

Killian had no idea what he was here for, not really. One dream and he’d come running like a well trained dog, a pet. He can’t even feel shame about it. Emma could’ve asked him to pick daisies in the grand gardens of King David and he’d have come running, a prisoner to his emotions. His mutations should have rid him of them decades ago and yet—

He lets himself be seen, letting his posture slip to a slouch. The ride was harder on him than he’d anticipated and his limbs call for sleep, the ache of it weighing him down. Will is, above all else, his oldest friend. If he can trust anyone, it's him.

“What’s going on, Killian?”

Lilac and gooseberries, touched with cinnamon and the undeniable scar of power. It singes the air with its grace and sets Killian’s medallion ablaze with activity before he can even register the draught behind him hadn’t come from the door. Will looks up, eyes rapidly widening in a mix of familiarity and surprise, but Killian doesn’t have to. He knows. She must have sensed him when he passed the kingdom's wards, followed the sing of his own power to find him, greet him.

Killian turns and lets a smirk tug at his lips as silence hangs like a criminal, the whole inn rendered mute by her entrance. In awe. In fear.

Emma.

Time hasn’t dared touch her. It hasn’t in aeons. In the years Killian has known her, she has always looked this radiant. Hair curled loosely over her shoulders and a dress of lace laid over silk, bright and beautiful and absolutely incredible. An aura of light surrounds her, bringing illumination to the dim room. From her very core, she is beautiful.

Killian has missed her.

She smiles, knowingly.

"I haven't told him yet."

[historic-old-guard-lover]

The emperor has to be god-king Andy. Also like since nicky and Joe obv have to have the lovers why not have andy and quyhn kissing as the empress.

Another related ask (potentially by the same person):

Also since the fool is a journey's beginning I'd almost want to pick Nile for it. As well there are four characters who commonly have swords (or an axe but close enough) and cards have four corners. So one sword each corner, nicky, joe, andy, and quyhn.

So. Someone has good ideas. Here’s the post that prompted these asks. This made me pull out my tarot deck and go through the cards. Below the cut is a break down of the entire tarot deck. There will be an explanation of the (standard) interpretation of the cards, good then less good, and then my associated headcannon (or more than one if I couldn’t decide). The source is my experience with tarot. I’m trying to minimize repeats, but historic and modern Old Guard members are counted separately. Enjoy.

The Major Arcana (aka the cards most people have heard about)

0. The Fool - the seeker. Naivety. Courage. Living in the moment. Journey’s beginning. All paths available. Folly. Apathy.

Nile. Anon convinced me. Though Booker has got the folly, apathy, and madness down, Nile is ultimately the beginning. She’s naïve but headstrong, and quite frankly a perfect match.

I. The Magician - the trickster. Power, skill, talent. Mastery, self-control, willpower. Subtlety. Divine connection and inspiration. Self-reliant.

Modern Nicky. Definitely Nicky. Just. He’s a formerly very religious man who just says these things. Also sniper.

II. The High Priestess - the moon goddess. Intuition, wisdom, foresight, divination, prophecy. Enlightenment, understanding, intelligence, education. Pride, emotional instability, unforgiving.

Historic Quynh. Her name means “night-blooming flower”, which is very moon goddess vibes to me. Also, I’d say over 500 years in a box turns understanding and enlightenment into emotional instability and unforgiveness.

III. The Empress - the queen. Feminine power, matriarch, mother. Fertility, pleasure, beauty. Success, evolution, movement. Marriage, wealth. Overattachment, domestic upheaval, delay.

Quynh. The counterpart to Andy’s emperor card.

Nile. Let’s be honest, she’s going to take over from Andy some day.

IV. The Emperor - the king. Masculine power, patriarch, father. Authority, leadership, proficiency. Wealth, stability, effectiveness. Perseverance, logic, endurance, experience. Lack of ability, weak character, immature, rebellious.

Modern Andy. She is the leader who’s short-comings effect her entire team. And who doesn’t love a little gender bending? (and her film look is already soft butch)

V. The Hierophant - the religious leader. Tradition, convention, ritual symbolism. Ceremony, religion, morality, philosophy. Mercy, goodness, forgiveness, humility, vulnerability, Impotence, Religious tyranny.

Historic Nicky. I mean, former priest (enough said).

Historic Andy. “I was once worshipped as a god” (enough said).

VI. The Lovers - the lovers. Love, attraction. Compatibility, harmony, choice.  Triumph over trials, vacillation. Entanglement, enmeshment. Infidelity, moral lapse, vice, separation, quarrels, inadequacy, failing tests.

Andromaquynh. *peeks out from behind barricade* I know that most people would just put Kaysanova as this card, but look at all the negatives it is associated with. Sounds a lot more like our immortal wives can really cover the gamut. They have the range....I am a sucker for Kaysanova, though. Even though the beginning of their relationship is rocky, I’d like to think it’s been fairly constant over the years. But let’s reverse the uhaul lesbians and fickle gay men tropes! Sorry, Book of Nile fans. That ship just isn’t established enough for this, I’d say. Maybe one day?

VII. The Chariot - the journey. Ordeal, obstacles, competition. High stakes, ambition, discipline. Conquest, victory, greatness. Right action prevails, overwhelming odds, sudden defeat.

Merrick and/or Dr. Kozak. I mean, this is literally their characters in a nutshell. Merrick is the journey/ordeal for the old guard. He is driven by his ambition, thinks he’s won over impossible odds, and then has a sudden defeat.

VIII. Justice - the balance. Equilibrium, equality, symmetry, harmony. Integrity, honor, fairness, neutrality, moderation. Vindication, self-righteousness, bigotry, prejudice, favoritism.

Nile. This is the woman with a sword card. She brings a balance to the team, she clearly moderates conflict, and I’d love to see BLM art of her in this style. Just sayin.

IX. The Hermit - the seeker-sage. Wisdom, inspiration, contemplation, discretion, understanding. Safety, protection, spiritual quest. Seeking truth and justice. Self-denial, timidity, fear.

Historic Joe. The idealized warrior poet? Definitely just a form of the hermit. Helps explain why a Magrebhi trader/artist fought at the Siege of Jerusalem: spiritual quest. I also like the idea of Joe having a secret reserved side.

X. The Wheel of Fortune - cycles of life. Destiney, evolution and progress, advancement. Manifestation, unexpected events. Success, sudden luck. Ups and downs.

Modern Quynh. There is nothing that better encapsulates her storyline than the wheel of fortune. One day you’re roaming the world with your immortal wife. The next, you’re drowning for over 500 years. The next you’re in Booker’s shitty Paris apartment.

XI. Strength - fortitude. Resilience, courage, resolve, confidence. Integrity, moral victory, endurance. Energy, action, vitality. Power, force, violence. Abuse of power, disgrace, impotence.

Lykon. Do I love this character beyong measure and reason? Maybe so. We have so little to go on about him, however, that the only things we do know bely his strengths. Also, he becomes ultimately the weakest when he dies and encapsulates both “extremes” of the card.

XII. The Hanged Man - the tested. Delay, sacrifice, abandonment, rejection. Betrayal. Reversals, restrained or bound, limbo, trials. Falseness.

Booker. If the fact that his first death was by hanging didn’t convince you? Read that description again. His character arc is literally working through being the hanged man.

XIII. Death - the loss or parting. Alteration, transformation, transition. Boredom, depression, stagnation, failure or disaster. Bereavement, recovery, immobility.

Lykon. He literally represents the fear of death to the remaining immortals. It is HE that they invoke when they discuss it. Also, I’m still mourning my favorite underdeveloped character.

XIV. Temperance - the moderation. Self-control, economy, patience, coordination. Consolidation, harmony, friendship, recuperation. Unfulfilled desires, discord, stubbornness, hostility, clashing of interests. Time, seasons, and climate.

A Safehouse. I don’t think any of the people really capture the tempered essence of this card, the constancy throughout all seasons of life. An actual physical building that rises and falls with (regular) humanity, though, seems to do the trick.

XV. The Devil - the arcane. Magic, strange occurrences, prophecy, fate. Catastrophe, downfall, negative attitude, Temptations, sins, obsessions. Enslavement, bondage, misplaced loyalty, violence, fatality.

Honestly? I’m so torn. I feel like a major commentary of the movie is that our demons are the way people react more so than the people themselves. Maybe the armored van?

XVI. The Tower - the House of God. Disruption, expulsion from an earthly paradise, divine wrath. Punishment (of pride), loss, destructive rivalry, plans ruined. Need to start again, bankruptcy.

The Iron Coffin. While this doesn’t capture the religious undertones quite right, the coffin is the Tower for Andromaquynh, It is (divine? or very human?) wrath brought on by pride since the two probably thought that they would be fine. It is loss and painful new beginnings.

XVII. The Star - the bright promise. Hope, faith, light of the spirit. Recovery, symbols of immortality. Gifts, good prospects, new dawn, frustrated expectations.

Nile. The new immortal, enough said.

Historic Andy/Lykon. In a way, the first immortal would also be a great choice of representation.

XVIII, The Moon - the hidden forces. Twilight, illusion, deception, trickery. Dishonesty, danger, uncertainty, terror. Developments, particularly somewhat concealed. Errors, powerful feelings.

Copley. I know, I know. “He’s the moon when I’m lost in darkness” and all that jazz. But look at this card’s interpretation and notice it’s pretty negative. Copley’s entire role is to pull the strings behind the scenes. He makes headway on problems in secrets, he lies and deceives everyone in the film at some point.

XIX. The Sun - the work’s rewards. Daylight, co-creation, union “of male and female”. Peace, joy, pleasure, love, contentment. Accomplishment, achievement, success. 

Joe. Not only is he the sun, he also fits this card perfectly. He is creation and happiness. Enough said.

XX Judgement - the rebirth. Judgement, sentence. Rejuvenation, renewal, resurrection, call to the new from the old, rehabilitation. Creation, promotion.

Historic Booker. I feel like his backstory with his family helped highlight the theme of rebirth for the Old Guard. They must be willing to give up what they have left behind to move forward. Also, there’s the more literal play as well since Booker was a conscripted criminal.

XXI The World - the long journey. Perfection, completion, conclusion. Power through intelligence and wisdom. The universe and the material world.

A group photo, of course! Beyond that? Who knows.

Historic Andy? She’s seen so much of it. Like just her eyes portray the history of the world.

The Minor Arcana (aka the rest of the cards)

Since most people are only familiar with the major arcana,  I’ll just briefly explain it. The minor arcana are actually the majority of a tarot deck. There are four suits associated with the four elements. Each suit has ten number cards and four court/face cards (traditionally modelled either based on one person or different interpretations of similar costuming). Each number or face has its own meaning, each suit has its own meaning, and their combination mostly explains what the card should be interpreted as. Quite frankly, the minor arcana are vastly underrated in popular understandings of tarot.

Suit of Wands - fire. Spontaneity, action, passion, adrenaline, life force, stroke of genius.

Guns? It’d be a bit of a niche take, but I associate guns with fires.

Staffs? More traditional in shape.

Suit of Coins - earth. Solid growth, material interests, possessions, profit, business, labor, slow and considerate.

Historic currency. Enough said.

Suit of Cups - water. Heartfelt involvements, imagination, spirituality, love, friendship, family.

Fountains around the world. Enough said.

Suit of Swords - air. Worry, trouble, boundaries, objectivity, the power of truth.

Obviously, their weapons of choice. I would go into more detail about who best represents each number, but I don’t want to bore you.

Court of Kings - mature men. Leaders, authority, status-quo, taking responsibility.

Again, most tarot is very gendered. But members in tuxes?

Court of Queens - mature women. Reflective and active, concerned with security/foundations, supportive, focused.

Members in dresses/gowns/anything that glitters?

Court of Knights/Cavaliers - young men. Dynamic, adventurous, intensive, revolutionary.

Tactical gear. Or historical armor. But it’s easier to do tactical gear right than accidentally draw a 15th century helmet on a 14th century suit of armor.

Court of Knaves/Pages - younger women, teenagers, and children. Students, apprentices, trainees, messengers, new opportunities.

Casual clothes.

[vampire03]

Diabolik lovers x Danganronpa AU (part 1)

Hi guys! I watched Danganronpa for the first time two weeks ago and I really liked it! I hope I got the conception right, because I think Diabolik lovers x Danganronpa will be a cool combination. Hope you enjoy it! TW for these shole series. They are reaaaaaly bloody!

"Hope's peak Academy" - a place where the best of the best study. Only ultimate students are accepted here - such who are better than anyone in something, whether it is dancing, maths, games, sports or something else, they were ultimate.

And then there was Y/N - an ordinary girl who always thought she had no special talent and just blended with the crowd. But one day she got a letter from "Hope's Peak academy" which said that she has been randomly choosen and accepted in the academy as the "Ultimate lucky student". Seriously, she couldn't believe her luck.

And this is how it started.

Y/N was standing in front of the academy, admiring how beautiful the building looked. She entered inside, waiting for her new classmates from class 79-B to gather up in the main hall for the first day at school.

While waiting, she was getting more and more anxious - she was going to be in a class with amazing people who were talented in sports, arts, studies etc. And she had no talent at all. Would she be able to fit?

Suddenly, she got dizzy and everything became dark.

When Y/N woke up, she was lying on a desk in a classroom. A classroom... with baricaded windows? With iron plates? What on Earth?!

Y/N looked around and saw a note, that was adressed to her, saying that she has to be in the school gymnasium at 8 o'clock. When she looked at the clock on the wall, it was exactly 8 o'clock.

"Uuuuu, I gotta hurry!" Rushed Y/N and as if by intinct she knew hwere to go and reached the gymnasium, where she saw 15 people waiting for her.

"I-I'm sorry I'm late! I somehow fainted and just woke up a minute ago!"

"Do not worry, you are just on time!" said a short girl with long brown hair and brown eyes.

"Hello, I am Luna Sakamaki! The Ultimate artist here!"

"H-hi!" cheerfully answered Y/N.

"Fufufu, another Bitch-chan! Things get better and better!" playfully said a tall boy with red hair and stunning green eyes. He was wearing a fedora and had a mole on his chin.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, nfu! I am Laito Sakamaki! The Ultimate male model! You have probably seen me on tons of magazins, haven't you?"

"S-sure..." Y/N nodded. He had somehow a different aura in real life...

"Why are we still here? Teddy and I are already bored!" Said a short boy with purple hair and eyes, in a really irritated tone.

"Hello, what's your na-

"WHO ALLOWED YOU TO SPEAK TO ME AND TEDDY?!?" The boy snapped. He looked kinda... psychic... He had that... weird look... combined with those bags under his eyes... Y/N decided it would be better if she didn't interact with him that much...

"Please forgive for the foolishness of my brother. His name is Kanato Sakamaki and he is the Ultimate doll-maker. As for me, I am Reiji Sakamaki, the Ultimate scientist." Calmly said a tall young man with black hair and red eyes. He was wearing glasses and looked very, very formal.

"Oi, oi, oi, OI! Oresama should introduce himself first!" A boy with red hair and green eyes approached. His clothes were a little messy.

"I am Ayato Sakamaki. But it's Oresama or Yours Truly for you!"

"Shut up already! I want to go home already!" An albino boy shouted angrily as he punched the wall, leaving a hole in it.

"Subaru-kun... You don't have to break t-the wall!" Squealed a blonde girl with pink eyes.

"And you two are...?"

"Oh, I am Yui Komori, the Ultimate assistant, and this is Subaru Sakamaki, the Ultimate fighter" answered the girl.

"I suppose we will have to introduce ourselves as as well, we are the Mukami brothers - I, Ruki, the Ultimate butler, Kou the Ultimate idol, Yuma, the Ultimate gardener and Azusa, the Ultimate doctor." A boy with dark grey hair and blue eyes said as he gestured towards his brothers - one blond boy (Kou) , one very tall boy (Yuma) and one very thin and unhealthy looking boy (Azusa).

"Hi!" They said together.

"You worthless vampires, you should have let us introduse ourselves first!" Said in a deep voice a young man with golden eyes and long white hair. He looked like a royal. "I am Carla Tsukinami, the Ultimate leader, you better remember that, woman."

"Yeah! And I am his brother, Shin Tsukinami!" Shouted a boy with golden eyes and peach hair. "And also, I am the Ultimate animal-trainer!"

"Yo, little princess! You should know that I am the Great Kino-Sama! Stop talking to these guys!" Demanded a boy with black hair and red eyes. He was holding a videogame in his hand. Yep. The Ultimate gamer.

"Ha... Bothersome..." Lazily said a tall blonde guy, who was lying on the floor in the corner.

"And this eyesore is Shu Sakamaki - the Ultimate violinist" said Reiji with annoyance.

"So you guys, uhhmm-

Y/N started, but was interrupted by a weird echoing voice:

"Pufufufu! Welcome, dear students, I am Monokuma, the Principal of this school! Congratulations for being accepted here! You already got to know each other, now it is time for the rules!" Said a tiny robotic bear - half white and half black. He had one normal and one red eye. And he. Was. Talking.

"I said quit this crap already! Who is pulling off this prank! First we lose conciousness, then we are locked here, and now a bear is talking and saying that he is the Principal!" Raged Subaru.

"I am not just a bear! I am a masterpiece! Now. Listen to the rules, children... Because you are going to follow them for the rest of your lives here, pufufu!" Mockingly said the bear.

"For the rest of our lives here?" asked Luna.

"That's right! This school is your new home forever! None of you will be getting out in this awful hopeless world again and you will live in harmony, following the rules!" Explained the bear.

"Is this why there are iron plates on all if the windows?" asked Yui.

"That's right! No peeking outside!" Laughed Monokuma.

"Oi, I said stop with this bullshit and let's get ove with this!" Shouted Subaru, as he ran towards Monokuma and punched him.

"OWWW, VIOLATIONS OF THE SCHOOL RULES, AGRESSION TOWARDS THE PRINCIPAL, YOU WILL BE THE FIRST PUNISHED!" Cried the bear. His red eye started glowing in a creepy way.

"Subaru, trow the bear far away, quickly!" Suddenly said Reiji.

In a rush Subaru trew the bear and it exploded in the air.

"Dude, these guys ain't joking!" Hissed Yuma.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Subaru shouted.

"Pfuffufufu!" Monokuma's voice was head again, as he appeared out of nowhere again, without a single scratch.

"You see? This was an example of what happens to those who break the rules here, fufufu! Now let me introduce you to the rules, so you can follow them without a problem from now on!"

"So you are saying that you will keep us locked here forever and we will have to live according to your rules, otherwise you will kill us?" Asked Ruki.

"Bullseye!"

"It can't be, this thing is actually real, at the same time it is not... What is it then...? auietly asked himelf Kou, as he held his hand on his eyes.

"That iss up to you to find out! Now finally, the rules. As you already know, you are going to live here forever. In peace and harmony, with endless food and water supplies. You willhave your own separate rooms with bathrooms inside! Girls' bathrooms have a bonus - they have locks! Each one of you has a special E-Handbook, which shows you your student profile and allows you access to different areas! These will be your student ID cards so do not lose them and do not try to destroy them! Also, the time between 10pm and 7am is called "Night hours". During that time it is forbidden to sleep somewhere else, but your room! I will make sure to inform you when Night hours begin and end!" Happily explained Monokuma.

"So you are saying that we are just going to get up, eat, walk around this place all day and then go to bed again? For the rest of our lives? There is gotta be a way outta here!" Said Ayato.

"Puhuhu... There actually is! In order to keep the harmony, students who dissrupt it, have to leave the school, right? We call it "graduation". And is there a better way to ruin the harmony than killing someone? Of course not! If one of you kills someone else withhout the others finding out who the murderer is, the murderer successfully graduates and is free to go and the others are punished for their wrong assumptions!" Monokuma said.

"P-punished? How?" Asked Y/N

"How, you ask? By being executed, of course!" The bear answered.

"EXECUTED?!" Everyone asked in horror.

"Puhuhu, yes. However, if the murderer is exposed by the other students, they get to live and the murderer is the only one to be executed, failing to graduate. Interesting, right?" Mocked Monokuma.

"No, this has to be a joke!" Y/N said, shivering.

"But it isn't! Now you are free to go and look around your new home! Remember that soon the Night hours will begin. Have fuuun!" Happily said Monokuma and suddenly dissapeared the way he appeared.

"Man..." Yuma said, scratching the back of his neck. "This is sick! And my phone is missing."

"Ours too..." replied everyone in unison.

"And not only that... Seems we are being watched 24/7..." said Kou, pointing at a camera in the corner. And another one near the door. And another one in the hallway...

"Well, since we have nothing to say to each other, let's all go around and look for a way out of the school". demanded Carla.

"Good" agreed Reiji. "Let's meet here again after an hour."

Everyone went their own way around the school.

Y/N reached the cafeteria where she saw that there really are tons of food and drinks, enough for everyone. She also found the Infirmary where there were a few nice beds, some medications and blood supplies. Then she found herself in a hallway with a lot of doors. The had locks and labels with different names. Yes, these were the students' rooms! So Y/N's room had to be somewhere here as well! In the end of the hallway, she indeed found a room with her name written on the door and a picture of her on ut as well. She found ther E-Handbook in her pocket and a pair of keys as well.

"One for the room and one for the bathroom, I assume." mumbled Y/N to herself as she indeed unlocked the room with one of the keys.

It was a nice spacious room. Of course, the windows had iron plates on them. A camera in the corner as well. There was a nice bed, a table and a chair, a wardrobe and the bathroom as well. Y/N remembered that she had to meet with the others soon, so she headed back to the gymnasium.

Everyone was gathering there again, looking dissapointed.

"We found no way out if here..." proclaimed Reiji. Ayato, Kanato, Laito and Subaru nodded, agreeing with their brother.

"Same for us. We circled around the whole area and found no other way out, but a starcase to a secound floor I persume. However, there was a barrier, so we could not reach it" Ruki said. Yuma, Kou and Azusa beside him.

"We also did not discover something to help us out." said Carla in a dissapointed voice. Shin nodded, mumbling to himself.

"Pain in the ass..." huffed Subaru.

Yui, Luna, and Y/N did not say a word. The only ones who were missing here were Shu and Kino. Where were they?

"Attention, students! It is 10pm! Night hours begin!" Monokuma's voice could be heard from everywhere.

"So soon?" Yui asked.

"Well, I guess we will have to go in our own rooms for now, see you guys tomorrow! Maybe the next day we will have a fresh start and will be more successful in finding a way out! Goodnight!" wave Luna at everyone as she left. The others left as well.

Y/N got back to her room. As she was about to get in bed, she found a note on the table which said:

"There are little gifts for you all under your beds! Sewing kits for the girls and tool kits for the boys! Use them creatively!

- Monokuma"

Y/N ripped the note to pieces and trew it in the trash bin. She checked under the the bed and indeed found a sewing kit there. There were diferent needles and scissors inside. And a little piece of paper with a plan of a human body, with all of it's weak spots marked on it. Y/N felt sick.

"I better go to bed... It will be troublesome if I am all sleepy yomorrow morning...I hope we will find a way out of here.." saind Y/N to herslef and she got under the blanket and turned her back to the camera. There was no way someone could sleep normaly while there is a camera at their face, right?

Phew! This is one of the longest things I have written! I hope you guys liked it and there are no mistakes. I wonder, when the bloody scenes come, should I try making pictures of them with the Diaboys, the way it is in Danganronpa? It will be cool, but it will take some time! You decide!

♡♡♡

[iwillhaveamoonbase]

Replay ch. 3

Chapter is rated M

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

Rayla got up at seven, eyes heavy from the lack of sleep last night.  “Noooo.  UGH.” She turned to angrily glare at her alarm that had interrupted her rain noises.  Aberdeen wasn’t the rainiest place in the world, but the sound of a rain storm always helped put her to sleep.  Her mum and da always joked she was named ‘Rayla’ because she was born right when the moon shone through a stormy night.  

Rayla went through her emails quickly, making a note in her phone to call both sets of her parents this weekend.  She missed the days in Scotland when Runaan would speak French with her and talk cheese or helping Ethari in his jewelry business.  Runaan ran the books while Ethari ran the artistic side, his work with metal and jewel placement both tasteful and modern while taking classic elements from Celtic art.  

Her parents had yet to retire from being bodyguards, but they regaled her with stories of Africa and Asia and Australia, how kind people were, the different foods and cultures. Sometimes, she wished she could have grown up going with them.  Other times, she knew they had made the right choice leaving her with Runaan and Ethari. They wouldn’t have had much time for her anyways.

Sighing, she rolled out of bed.  She had a breakfast date with Corvus before she had to be at the office.  God.  She hated those pricks sometimes; a lot of old money lived in that office.  She had thought she was leaving classism behind when she did her study abroad in the States for her law degree.  Apparently, America just hid their classism really well instead of openly displaying it like they did back in the UK.  

She lived well, was paid well, did better than anyone had expected her to do, probably.  She had been more focused on athletics as a kid, leading Runaan to force her into ballet (‘you already know some French. It’s perfect!’), Ethari insisting on Irish step dance (‘Lain’s mother was Irish.  It’s a world wide sensation, Rayla!’), and her own parents signing her up for kickboxing when she was in high school during their vacation from work. Her teachers had been frustrated that she was smart but didn’t ‘apply herself’ whatever that meant.  She got good grades, did better in college, got into law school in another country, and passed the bar.  She could apply herself just fine.  She just liked to be active.

Rayla sighed as she stepped into the hot water of her shower.  She had made a good choice buying this shower head.  Slowly, she felt the burn that had started last night begin to build back up again.  Green eyes entered her mind again, as well as a voice that she would love to hear calling her name out while she rode him.  ‘Calm down, Rayla.’  She couldn’t meet Corvus horny.  Rayla sighed, putting her forehead against the shower wall before starting to massage her breast.  She tried to imagine it was Callum’s hand stroking her, dipping down to touch between her thighs where she ached.

Would his hands be soft or rough?  There hadn’t been any obvious calluses when she had shaken his hand at the cheese shop. She moaned, dipping her fingers into her wet heat.  Her thighs rubbed together as she tried to chase that elusive release.  She didn’t have time for this.  The more she tried to speed up, the more it just wasn’t happening. Growling in frustration, she tried to play with her clit, breathing deeply as she finally found a rhythm that was working.  Rayla bit her bottom lip and sighed as she came, inwardly crowing with satisfaction. There was no worse start to a day than being unable to cum after a wet dream or being too horny to function.  

She washed and dried off, stretching her muscles before dressing.  The green pantsuit and black top showed off her toned figure without drawing too much attention to any one place.  Her heels made her even taller and, hopefully, a little intimidating to jerky clients or coworkers.  She grabbed her purse and went out the door.  When she finally made it to her car, she leaned her head on the steering wheel. Had she really started her day off by masturbating to a guy she met YESERDAY?  

She shook her head, driving off until she made it to the little café she and Corvus frequented. Corvus also worked in the same building, but for a different law office, specifically divorce.  Rayla had no idea how he did it, but someone had to.  She saw Corvus at their usual table, smiling at something on his phone.  “Your boyfriend sent you a naughty text?”

Corvus smirked back up at her.  “Nope. Just something about one of my latest clients.  Well, their soon-to-be-ex.”

“Good news or bad news?”

“Well, considering it’s a custody case, it’s good for my client.”

“Abuse?” Rayla frowned.

“I would not be smirking if that was the case.  No.  Apparently, the ex has been mismanaging the children’s money.  Lying about putting it in a back account for them and spending it on gambling debts.”

“You don’t call that abuse?” Rayla smiled up at the waiter who came over, ordering an earl grey, a coffee to go, and an omelet.

“Thank you,” Corvus nodded to the waiter.  “I do, personally, but everyone views that differently.  The children were never struck, no record of emotional, mental, or oral abuse.  It seemed like it was going to go 50-50 custody, which tends to be the ideal situation, but my client was concerned about the gambling problem.”

“So best case scenario, gambler’s anonymous and supervised visits eventually leading to 50-50 custody?”

“Best case scenario. Probably won’t happen, but we can all hope.”

Rayla shook her head. “I don’t know how you do it.  I didn’t do criminal law or divorce law because I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing evidence of child abuse all day.”

“It’s a lot.  We try to spread those cases around as much as we can, because it gets to be too much when it’s all you see.  When police reports come into play, it’s even worse.” Rayla nodded.  “While you work for old money.  Tell me, how’s Kasef doing?”

“Hitting on me, again. Got upset when I told him off for glaring at a guy in a cheese shop for asking me a question.”

“He comes down to our office on his breaks and hits on half the women there.”

“Believe me, I know.  His father gets really upset about it.”

“How is Mr. Ahling?”

“Still insisting we call him ‘Mr. Ahling’ and not the proper ‘Mr. Patel.’  His health is starting to go downhill, so we’re hoping his daughter graduates soon and can start to learn how to take over the office.”

Corvus shook his head, smiling at the waiter with her when they brought their food.  “Thank you.  I’m telling you, join our office.  You could be really good at gathering information.”

“Thank you, but, no thanks. I grew up believing in true love with both sets of my parents.  I’d like to continue believing in it.”

“You still believe in love. I love my boyfriend so much we’re moving in together.”

“Well, congratulations to you both.  You moving in to his apartment or is he moving into your’s?”

“Mine’s bigger and closer to both our jobs.”

They talked work for a few more minutes, keeping an eye on the time.  Rayla sighed as she looked at Corvus.  “I’ve got a favor to ask.”

“My hairdresser would love to do your hair.  Those layers are cute, but maybe you need a new look.”

“Ha ha.  My hair’s fine, thanks.  You remember me mentioning a guy in the cheese shop?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, he asked to draw me. He said it’s cool that I brought a friend and I would like to bring you.  I don’t really have any other friends in the city.”  She finished her tea, opening the lid of her coffee to put some cream in.

“He seem legit?”

“I saw his art.  He also runs a YouTube channel with his friends and little brother?”

“What’s his name?”

“Callum Evans.”

“Katolis Squad!”  Corvus smiled, clapping his hands together.

“You know them?”

“Of course.  They do a lot of food stuff.  I found this café because of one of their videos.  Also, my boyfriend’s a baker, remember?  Ezran and Claudia do a series on baking and sweets and he likes to watch them.  Callum Evans is also kind of known in the art scene in town and I’ve met his aunt a few times.  Lovely lady, so’s her wife.”

“Huh.  Apparently, I’m out of it.”

“You just arrived in Katolis last year.  I grew up here.  You remember my boyfriend’s beignets you liked so much?”

“Those were delicious.”

“Ezran’s recipe.  His grandmother’s friend was from Louisiana and she taught him how to make them like it’s done in the French-Quarter.”

“Huh.  So, you’ll come with me?”

“Sure.  Callum Evans seems harmless, but since he already approved it, might as well take advantage.”

“Agreed.  I can take care of myself, but, you never know.”

“Where’s it going to be?”

“At his house.  He said he has an art studio there.  At least, that’s what he implied.  I’m waiting for a text from him to iron out the details.”

“Maybe he’ll ask to draw you nude?”  Rayla flushed red at that, looking down at her almost finished breakfast.  “Oh?  Something you want to share with the class?  A reason you were distracted during kickboxing last night, perhaps?”

Rayla glared up at him, taking a few harsh bites of her omelet.  She swallowed, keeping eye contact with him.  “He’s cute, I’m single, that’s it.”

“He’s single.”  Rayla paused.  “He broke-up with his last girlfriend months ago.  She made a big Instagram post about it, saying they wanted to focus on their careers.  Which was weird because no one even knew they were in a relationship.”

“So, he’s probably used to people trying to use him for fame.”

“Most likely.  He keeps to himself.”

“I saw that when I went digging online.  His step-father’s the governor and his mother was in the military for a few years, rising through the ranks very quickly.”

“Yeah.  They try to keep their channel separate from all that, though.  People are always asking them questions about it and they’ll either ignore it or say they aren’t a mouthpiece for Harrow Williams.”

“Fair.  I’ll text you the details.  I’ve got my coffee, gotta go.”  Rayla put a $20 on the table and waved good-bye to Corvus, leaving to head to the office.  Well, this just got even more interesting, didn’t it?

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

Callum rubbed his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling.  All night, he had dreamed of Rayla.  Her white hair down and around bare shoulders, purple eyes starting deep into his. ‘Come on, Callum.  Make me feel good.’  He tossed and turned in his bed, suddenly thankful for the fact he lived alone.  His cock was at attention and it was not going to be going down any time soon.  Rolling out of bed, he took his sleep clothes off as he made his was to his shower.  He winced at the cold water, but sighing in relief as his erection went down. He had no time to rub one out.  He was already running late for his meeting with Ezran, Soren, and Claudia.  They had to go over whether or not to actually hire a crew now that their channel had six million subscribers.  

It would be a smart move. Claudia’s home-made beauty series was getting a lot of attention, as were her and Ez’s baking series.  Soren and Ezran’s sub channel and Twitch channel was getting a lot of attention in the video game community for their let’s plays and commentary.  Even Callum’s art sub channel was getting more and more attention.  He was just worried about going bigger because, if they did, what if drama followed?  It had been a PR nightmare when his ex-girlfriend had posted on Instagram about going their separate ways for their careers.  Callum had asked her to keep it between them because he wanted to keep his personal life and his YouTube life separate.  She had apparently felt that, after they broke-up, what he wanted didn’t matter.

As he quickly ate breakfast, he couldn’t get the idea of Rayla from his dreams or of her in a forest out of his head.  Those eyes haunted his every though.  ‘She’s a freaking fae.  That must be it.’  Callum rubbed his eyes again, sighing.  He sent a quick text to Rayla asking if she would be alright with her modeling for him in the woods outside of town.  She would probably say ‘no’, but Callum needed to get this image out of his head and out of his system.  He had just met her and she was distracting him already.  Still, Callum wasn’t so sure he could ever get someone like her out of his system.  Even if they had sex a week straight, he would probably still crave her.  ‘Stop getting ahead of yourself, Callum.  She’s probably in a relationship, you just want to draw her, and you have other things to focus on right now.’  

All day, as the group discussed the benefits to do YouTube full-time, barring Ezran because he was still in college, a Scottish accent and a pair of soft eyes stayed in the back of his mind.  Beckoning him to find her and take her under a waterfall in the forest.  Would she scratch and like it rough or did she like to go soft and slow, like a wave?  

Ezran snapped his fingers in his face.  “Callum, focus.”

“Right.  So, I think taking a step forward is a good idea….” He didn’t have time to be thinking about faeries in suits from Scotland.  

[darakshafatimasstuff]

Hazrat Horr (as) the most lucky martyr of Karbala 💔A story that does not let us despair of God's mercy 💯💯

Horr was the name of one of the high-ranking commanders of the army of Omar-e-Sad who faced the grandson of the Prophet of Islam.

Hussain-ebn-Ali, with orders from Yazeed-ebn-Muawiah to either get Hussain's allegiance for his corrupt Khalifat, or kill Hussain and all his friends. It was Horr and his army who first faced Imam Hussein, and then kept them under siege, preventing them from getting water.

On the day of Ashoura, Horr made a huge decision.

Right before the battle started, he left his position and the army he was commanding, and joined Imam Hussein, and was the first to be killed in the way of Allah, by the army he used to be a commander of just a few hours earlier. The name Horr means free, freeborn, noble, freeman.

The fate, sometimes, plays a game. The factory of creation, constantly producing uncountable things, stones, trees, rivers, animals, insects,human beings, sometimes shows a scene of humor, creates an innovation or an exception: it writes a poem, paints a work of art, does something unique...

In one word, it can be said that these items have a character. From among the houses, Kabeh, from all the walls, the China Wall, from the planets orbiting the sun, earth, and....from all the martyrs: Horr.

The artistic hands of destination have composed this scene with utmost precision, and as if to emphasize the importance of the story, have selected all the characters of the play from the absolutes, to make the story most effective.

The story is about a choice, the most important manifestation of the meaning of human being. But what kind of choice? We are all faced with several choices in our everyday life: career, friend, wife, house,major..

But in this story, the choice is much more difficult: the good and the evil. And even so, not from a philosophical, scientific, or theological perspective.

Instead, the choice here is between the truthful and the deceiving religion, between the just and unjust politics, with life being the price to pay.

To further emphasize the sensitivity of the situation, the author has not put the hero of this story in the middle, equally between the right and the evil. Instead, the hero is the head of the army of the evil. On the other hand, the director of this play has to find symbols for his story to make them most effective.

Should he have Promete on one side and some demons on the other side? But this makes the story too mythical...Spartacos and Crasios? no...this makes the story nationalistic and gives it a class dependent nature.

How about Ebrahim and Namrood? Moses and Feroh? Jesus and Judas? no... again, for most of the people these are metaphysical and heavenly characters different from common ordinary people.

Having them as heros reduces the effect of the story, and causes people to admire them, but never think about following their examples in their everyday life. However, the main purpose of this story is to teach, to show the ability of the man to change, to show how it is possible for a common and even sinful man to reject all his social, family, and class ties and show a god-like change.

The history of Islam is full of contradicting features. The two lines starting from Habil and Ghabil, existing throughout the history side by side though in different faces, have also continued in Islam. Now, both these streams are dressed in Islam, but in opposite directions. Ironically, our hero is faced to choose between the most extreme end sin each of these parties:

Yazid, and Hossein.

Indeed, had this story been created by an author, he should have been recognized for his genuine and art...

What is the name of this hero? For a historic figure, what is important is the role he plays, and not his name, since his name is something chosen for him by his family, according to his parent's taste..On the other hand, if the story is created by an ingenious writer,he would choose a name which is relevant to the role of his hero.

In this story however, our hero has been named by his mother, Horr,as if she has been able to foresee the sensitive role his son is going to play. And thus, when the Imam of freedom attends his bloody body, just before his death, tells him: O Horr! God bless you! You are free both in this world and in the world to come, just like what your mother called you!

Although Horr has played a unique role in the history, the essence of his role is not just confined to himself. The meaning of his action, in fact, includes all human-beings, and indeed defines humanity.

It is what distinguishes the human-beings from other creatures, underlining the responsibility of man with respect to God, people, and himself. And Horr has not played this with words and concepts, but with love and blood. If one grasps the depth of this saying from Imam Sadegh(AS) that All days are Ashoura, and all places are Karbala, and all months are Moharam one readily feels the extension: and all human-beings are Horr!

Our history, starting from Habil and Ghabil, is the manifestation of the eternal conflict between the two poles of God and Satan, though in each period of time these two poles have disguised differently. Therefore, in each period of time, every human-being finds himself just in the same position as Horr did: alone, in the middle, hesitating, between the same two armies.

On the one side, the commander of the army of evil shouts on his soldiers: O Army of God! attack! and on the other side, an Imam, with a voice echoing throughout the history asks -and not commands- Is there anybody who wishes to assist me? and you, the man, should choose.

It is by this choice that you become human. Before this choice you are nothing, you are just an existence without essence, you are standing in the middle.

Thus, the man who has found existence through birth, finds essence through choice. It is by this choice,that the creation of man completes, and this is exactly when the man feels this heavy burden on his shoulders and finds himself alone,as God and the nature have left him on his own on this dangerous decision.

Now we can evaluate our hero, we can feel what a long journey he has gone through in what a short time, to change him from a Yazidian Horr, to a Husseinian Horr. If he stays with the army of Yazid, his world is guaranteed, and if he joins the small army of Hussain, his death is eminent.

It is the morning of the day of Ashoura, and although the battle has not yet started in the fields, Horr realizes that the opportunity would not last. Time goes by fast, and the moments count. The storm has already started within him.

From the beginning, Horr was hoping that the events would not lead to war, but now war seems to be unavoidable. Human-beings have limited capability in tolerating shame and scorn, except for those who are genius in this respect and can tolerate disgrace unlimitedly.

Horr never had thought that being an employee of the government of Yazid would mean collaborating in Yazid's criminal acts. For him his job was just a source of income without having anything to do with politics or his religion.

Horr now realizes that adding his position with his religion is impossible. Thus, hopelessly and as a last resort he talks with the commander of the Army (Omar-ebn-Sa'd) who like himself is reluctant to get in a war and has accepted the mission to become the governor of the province of Ray and Gorgan. What would then be better than coming up with some sort of a solution without getting involved in the blood of the grandson of the Prophet and his family.

Horr and Omar-ebn-Sa'd both have come all the way from the palace of Yazid to Karbala together and they share the same status and social class. Horr asks Omar:

Can't you find a peaceful solution for this situation?

You know that if it had been up to me I would have done as what you propose, but your master Obeid-Allah-Ziyad did notaccept a peaceful resolution!

So are you going to fight with this man (Hussein)?

Yes, by God, I will fight a battle the least consequence of which will be separated heads and broken arms!

Now, it is evident that no longer can he play games with his religion. Now, the two separate their paths.

For Horr, Yazid's army of tens of thousand is now nothing more than a bunch of faces, without meaning. A crowd of men without selves, a group of people without hearts, those who shout but don't know why, fight but don't know for whom.

Now the Jesus of love and conscience cures a blind and resurrects a dead, creating a martyr from a murderer. In a journey it is not enough to ask for the destination, but one should also ask from the origin.

Thus, the length of Horr's journey becomes evident when one realizes from where he started, and to where he ended, all in half-a day's time. In his emigration from Satan to Allah , Horr did not study philosophy or theology, nor did he attend any lectures or schools.

He just changed his direction, and it is in fact this direction which gives meaning to everything: art, science, literature, religion, prayers, hajj, Mohammad, Ali...

Having started his journey, and riding his horse, he slowly leaves his Army toward Hussain. Muhajer-ebn-Ous, who sees him agitated and worried asks:

What's wrong with you Horr? I am puzzled by your case, by God if I were asked about the bravest man in our army I wouldn't hesitate to mention your name, and now you are so disturbed and worried?

I find myself between the Hell and the Heaven, and I have to select between them, and by God I will not choose but Heaven, even if I were cut to pieces or burnt to ashes!

The creation of Horr was completed and the fire of doubt has led him to the verity of certitude. He slowly approaches the camp of Hussain, and as he gets closer he hangs his boots from his neck, and keeps his armor down (as a sign of remorse)

I am the one who closed your path O Hussein. He didn't accept Hussein's invitation to rest for a while..

Is there a repentance for me? He can't wait any longer, he returns to the front and attacks the army of Omar with the most severe and bitter words, letting his ex-army and ex-commander know that he is no longer a slave, he is free, he is Horr.

Omar-ebn-Sa'd, his ex-commander, responds by throwing an arrow and yelling

Be witness and let Amir-ol-momenin know that I was the one to throw the first arrow at the army of Hussain!

And this was how the battle of Karbala started.........

انا للہ وانا الیہ علیہ رَاجعُون 💔

Reference:

Maqtal vol. 02 page 301

[richincolor]

Last week someone asked if I knew of any good lists of memoirs and coming-of-age novels. We do have a list of memoirs, but that was created four years ago and several more have been published since then that we’d recommend. I couldn’t recall or find a list like she was describing for coming-of-age books either, so the librarian in me felt the need to make one. Here’s an updated collection of memoirs along with a few coming-of-age novels. If you know of others written by BIPOC authors that you would recommend, please share the titles.

Memoirs

All Boys Aren’t Blue: A Memoir-Manifesto by George M. Johnson Farrar, Straus and Giroux (Byr)

In a series of personal essays, prominent journalist and LGBTQIA+ activist George M. Johnson explores his childhood, adolescence, and college years in New Jersey and Virginia. From the memories of getting his teeth kicked out by bullies at age five, to flea marketing with his loving grandmother, to his first sexual relationships, this young-adult memoir weaves together the trials and triumphs faced by Black queer boys.

Both a primer for teens eager to be allies as well as a reassuring testimony for young queer men of color, All Boys Aren’t Blue covers topics such as gender identity, toxic masculinity, brotherhood, family, structural marginalization, consent, and Black joy. Johnson’s emotionally frank style of writing will appeal directly to young adults.

Almost American Girl: An Illustrated Memoir by Robin Ha Balzer & Bray/Harperteen

For as long as she can remember, it’s been Robin and her mom against the world. Growing up as the only child of a single mother in Seoul, Korea, wasn’t always easy, but it has bonded them fiercely together.

So when a vacation to visit friends in Huntsville, Alabama, unexpectedly becomes a permanent relocation–following her mother’s announcement that she’s getting married–Robin is devastated.

Overnight, her life changes. She is dropped into a new school where she doesn’t understand the language and struggles to keep up. She is completely cut off from her friends in Seoul and has no access to her beloved comics. At home, she doesn’t fit in with her new stepfamily, and worst of all, she is furious with the one person she is closest to–her mother.

Then one day Robin’s mother enrolls her in a local comic drawing class, which opens the window to a future Robin could never have imagined.

Banned Book Club by Kim Hyun Sook, Ryan Estrada, Hyung-Ju Ko (Illustrator) Iron Circus Comics [Crystal’s Review] [Q&A with Authors – in a Comic]

When Kim Hyun Sook started college in 1983 she was ready for her world to open up. After acing her exams and sort-of convincing her traditional mother that it was a good idea for a woman to go to college, she looked forward to soaking up the ideas of Western Literature far from the drudgery she was promised at her family’s restaurant. But literature class would prove to be just the start of a massive turning point, still focused on reading but with life-or-death stakes she never could have imagined.

This was during South Korea’s Fifth Republic, a military regime that entrenched its power through censorship, torture, and the murder of protestors. In this charged political climate, with Molotov cocktails flying and fellow students disappearing for hours and returning with bruises, Hyun Sook sought refuge in the comfort of books. When the handsome young editor of the school newspaper invited her to his reading group, she expected to pop into the cafeteria to talk about Moby Dick, Hamlet, and The Scarlet Letter. Instead she found herself hiding in a basement as the youngest member of an underground banned book club. And as Hyun Sook soon discovered, in a totalitarian regime, the delights of discovering great works of illicit literature are quickly overshadowed by fear and violence as the walls close in.

It’s Trevor Noah: Born a Crime Stories from a South African Childhood by Trevor Noah Delacorte Press

Trevor Noah, the funny guy who hosts The Daily Show on Comedy Central, shares his remarkable story of growing up in South Africa with a black South African mother and a white European father at a time when it was against the law for a mixed-race child to exist. But he did exist–and from the beginning, the often-misbehaved Trevor used his keen smarts and humor to navigate a harsh life under a racist government. This fascinating memoir blends drama, comedy, and tragedy to depict the day-to-day trials that turned a boy into a young man. In a country where racism barred blacks from social, educational, and economic opportunity, Trevor surmounted staggering obstacles and created a promising future for himself, thanks to his mom’s unwavering love and indomitable will.

Infinite Hope: A Black Artist’s Journey from WWII to Peace by Ashley Bryan Atheneum Books

In May of 1942, at the age of eighteen, Ashley Bryan was drafted to fight in World War II. For the next three years, he would face the horrors of war as a black soldier in a segregated army.

He endured the terrible lies white officers told about the black soldiers to isolate them from anyone who showed kindness–including each other. He received worse treatment than even Nazi POWs. He was assigned the grimmest, most horrific tasks, like burying fallen soldiers…but was told to remove the black soldiers first because the media didn’t want them in their newsreels. And he waited and wanted so desperately to go home, watching every white soldier get safe passage back to the United States before black soldiers were even a thought.

For the next forty years, Ashley would keep his time in the war a secret. But now, he tells his story. The story of the kind people who supported him. The story of the bright moments that guided him through the dark. And the story of his passion for art that would save him time and time again.

Ordinary Hazards: A Memoir by Nikki Grimes Wordsong

In her own voice, acclaimed author and poet Nikki Grimes explores the truth of a harrowing childhood in a compelling and moving memoir in verse. Growing up with a mother suffering from paranoid schizophrenia and a mostly absent father, Nikki Grimes found herself terrorized by babysitters, shunted from foster family to foster family, and preyed upon by those she trusted. At the age of six, she poured her pain onto a piece of paper late one night – and discovered the magic and impact of writing. For many years, Nikki’s notebooks were her most enduing companions. In this accessible and inspiring memoir that will resonate with young readers and adults alike, Nikki shows how the power of those words helped her conquer the hazards – ordinary and extraordinary – of her life.

They Called Us Enemy by George Takei, Justin Eisinger, Steven Scott, Harmony Becker (Illustrator)Top Shelf Productions

They Called Us Enemy is Takei’s firsthand account of those years behind barbed wire, the joys and terrors of growing up under legalized racism, his mother’s hard choices, his father’s faith in democracy, and the way those experiences planted the seeds for his astonishing future. What does it mean to be American? Who gets to decide? When the world is against you, what can one person do? To answer these questions, George Takei joins co-writers Justin Eisinger & Steven Scott and artist Harmony Becker for the journey of a lifetime.

Coming-of-Age

Clap When You Land by Ellizabeth Acevedo Quill Tree Books [Crystal’s Review]

Camino Rios lives for the summers when her father visits her in the Dominican Republic. But this time, on the day when his plane is supposed to land, Camino arrives at the airport to see crowds of crying people…

In New York City, Yahaira Rios is called to the principal’s office, where her mother is waiting to tell her that her father, her hero, has died in a plane crash.

Separated by distance–and Papi’s secrets–the two girls are forced to face a new reality in which their father is dead and their lives are forever altered.

And then, when it seems like they’ve lost everything of their father, they learn of each other.

Darius the Great is Not Okay by Adib Khorram Penguin Books [Interview with Adib Khorram]

Darius Kellner speaks better Klingon than Farsi, and he knows more about Hobbit social cues than Persian ones. He’s a Fractional Persian–half, his mom’s side–and his first-ever trip to Iran is about to change his life.

Darius has never really fit in at home, and he’s sure things are going to be the same in Iran. His clinical depression doesn’t exactly help matters, and trying to explain his medication to his grandparents only makes things harder. Then Darius meets Sohrab, the boy next door, and everything changes. Soon, they’re spending their days together, playing soccer, eating faludeh, and talking for hours on a secret rooftop overlooking the city’s skyline. Sohrab calls him Darioush–the original Persian version of his name–and Darius has never felt more like himself than he does now that he’s Darioush to Sohrab.

Forward Me Back to You by Mitali Perkins Farrar, Straus and Giroux (Byr)

Katina King is the reigning teen jujitsu champion of Northern California, but she’s having trouble fighting off the secrets in her past.

Robin Thornton was adopted from an orphanage in India and is reluctant to take on his future. If he can’t find his roots, how can he possibly plan ahead?

Robin and Kat meet in the most unlikely of places–a summer service trip to Kolkata to work with survivors of human trafficking. As bonds build between the travelmates, Robin and Kat discover that justice and healing are tangled, like the pain of their pasts and the hope for their futures. You can’t rewind life; sometimes you just have to push play.

In turns heart wrenching, beautiful, and buoyant, Mitali Perkins’s Forward Me Back to You focuses its lens on the ripple effects of violence–across borders and generations–and how small acts of heroism can break the cycle.

Hearts Unbroken by Cynthia Leitich Smith Candlewick Press

When Louise Wolfe’s first real boyfriend mocks and disrespects Native people in front of her, she breaks things off and dumps him over e-mail. It’s her senior year, anyway, and she’d rather spend her time with her family and friends and working on the school newspaper. The editors pair her up with Joey Kairouz, the ambitious new photojournalist, and in no time the paper’s staff find themselves with a major story to cover: the school musical director’s inclusive approach to casting The Wizard of Oz has been provoking backlash in their mostly white, middle-class Kansas town. From the newly formed Parents Against Revisionist Theater to anonymous threats, long-held prejudices are being laid bare and hostilities are spreading against teachers, parents, and students — especially the cast members at the center of the controversy, including Lou’s little brother, who’s playing the Tin Man. As tensions mount at school, so does a romance between Lou and Joey — but as she’s learned, “dating while Native” can be difficult. In trying to protect her own heart, will Lou break Joey’s?

Loveboat, Taipei by Abigail Hing Wen Harperteen [Jessica’s Review]

And just like that, Ever Wong’s summer takes an unexpected turn. Gone is Chien Tan, the strict educational program in Taiwan that Ever was expecting. In its place, she finds Loveboat: a summer-long free-for-all where hookups abound, adults turn a blind eye, snake-blood sake flows abundantly, and the nightlife runs nonstop.

But not every student is quite what they seem:

Ever is working toward becoming a doctor but nurses a secret passion for dance.

Rick Woo is the Yale-bound child prodigy bane of Ever’s existence whose perfection hides a secret.

Boy-crazy, fashion-obsessed Sophie Ha turns out to have more to her than meets the eye.

And under sexy Xavier Yeh’s shell is buried a shameful truth he’ll never admit.

When these students’ lives collide, it’s guaranteed to be a summer Ever will never forget.

Parachutes by Kelly Yang Katherine Tegen Books

They’re called parachutes: teenagers dropped off to live in private homes and study in the United States while their wealthy parents remain in Asia. Claire Wang never thought she’d be one of them, until her parents pluck her from her privileged life in Shanghai and enroll her at a high school in California.

Suddenly she finds herself living in a stranger’s house, with no one to tell her what to do for the first time in her life. She soon embraces her newfound freedom, especially when the hottest and most eligible parachute, Jay, asks her out.

Dani De La Cruz, Claire’s new host sister, couldn’t be less thrilled that her mom rented out a room to Claire. An academic and debate team star, Dani is determined to earn her way into Yale, even if it means competing with privileged kids who are buying their way to the top. But Dani’s game plan veers unexpectedly off course when her debate coach starts working with her privately.

As they steer their own distinct paths, Dani and Claire keep crashing into one another, setting a course that will change their lives forever.

Yes No Maybe So by Aisha Saeed & Becky Albertalli Balzer & Bray/Harperteen [Group Discussion]

YES

Jamie Goldberg is cool with volunteering for his local state senate candidate–as long as he’s behind the scenes. When it comes to speaking to strangers (or, let’s face it, speaking at all to almost anyone) Jamie’s a choke artist. There’s no way he’d ever knock on doors to ask people for their votes…until he meets Maya.

NO

Maya Rehman’s having the worst Ramadan ever. Her best friend is too busy to hang out, her summer trip is canceled, and now her parents are separating. Why her mother thinks the solution to her problems is political canvassing–with some awkward dude she hardly knows–is beyond her.

MAYBE SO

Going door to door isn’t exactly glamorous, but maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world. After all, the polls are getting closer–and so are Maya and Jamie. Mastering local activism is one thing. Navigating the cross-cultural crush of the century is another thing entirely.

[coconutknightshade]

Merlin Versus IKEA

Rating: Gen Word Count: 3,300 Summary: 

In which Merlin is 50 Shades of Over he and Arthur's trip to IKEA.

----

Merlin gasps dramatically. Arthur looks down- The label on the sheets read GÄSPA.

AO3 or Below

"Hey- Hey, Arthur!"

The man in question comes to a stop, eyes falling shut as he fights to keep his patience. They've been working through IKEA for only a few hours, and Arthur is on a mission. It's near closing time, and they've not seen another soul for nearly a half-hour. And as dull and tedious as this trip has become, it's clear that Merlin is struggling even more so than Arthur.

"Merlin, I swear to God. If this is another-" Merlin collides into Arthur's back, forcing the man to stumble a step forward. He whirls on his boyfriend, glaring at the shit-eating grin on his face and completely ignoring the phone Merlin has trained on him. In his other hand, he's carrying a set of sheets. This has been going on for almost an hour now.

Merlin gasps dramatically. Arthur looks down- The label on the sheets read GÄSPA.

Arthur's jaw clenches as he tries to keep a straight face. As Merlin continues to laugh at his own joke, Arthur cracks, laughing traitorously and pushing Merlin away from him with a huffed, "You're not funny, Merlin."

He's a good seven feet away when Merlin finally stops laughing long enough to catch up.

"I don't think you have the necessary koala-fications to make that judgment call."

"I need to find a shop attendant. Somebody's lost their child in the store."

"Oh hoh, look who's got jokes now."

They go on like this for a while-

"Arthur, I don't think we've got any of these. Or you don't, anyway." It's a kitchen pan labeled TOLERANT .

"Arthur, I'm so skilled at this." Merlin flips around a set of notepads, the label reads SÄRSKILD. Arthur is not impressed.

Merlin's holding a notebook, the label reads KÄNNETECKEN. Arthur's already shaking his head when Merlin snorts, "Arthur, I just canna take it anymore."

Until finally, Merlin grows bored of the antic. Having been distracted by a mahogany table, it takes him a moment to notice that the other man has become unusually silent. It's with some trepidation that he slowly turns around, eyes scanning for his wayward boyfriend.

"Merlin, what the fuck are you-? Do not!" Arthur hisses quietly, glancing around hastily in fear of a shop attendant walking upon the pair. Merlin, the menace, is bent over, hands braced on a large display bed for balance as he toes off his shoes and clambers up, muttering to himself about looks being deceiving.

At Arthur's, it wasn't an outburst, outburst, Merlin grins, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he stretches out.

"Ya know," he says, completely ignoring the blond in favor of wiggling further up the bed, arms moving in a way reminiscent of making snow angels. "I really didn't expect this to feel as nice as it does."

"We're not here for a bed. Get up," Arthur says again, voice dropping an octave, but sounding more pleading than dangerous. Once again, his eyes dart around for any sign of employees. A derisive and somewhat amused snort pulls his attention back to Merlin.

"We absolutely are buying a new mattress. Mine is busted and yours- Well, let's not forget that I've seen first-hand the lads you used to parade through our apartment. We'd do the world some good lighting that mattress on fire. "

"Oi! Ironic, you knocking my taste in men when you're the one I'm parading through my apartment now." Arthur's taken a step forward, standing in the thoroughfare separating the bedroom section from the third kitchen section they've seen in the last three hours. He's got his arms crossed over his chest and is smirking at his long term friend turned boyfriend.

"Obviously, your tastes have matured." Merlin rolls onto his side, using a hand to prop up his head and running the other over the comforter, shooting Arthur a playful come hither look. Arthur, however, isn't having it.

"Merlin, I'm serious. If we get caught-'

"We aren't going to get caught! Have you seen the size of this place? They've not enough staff to patrol. I mean Christ, Arthur, how long has it been since we've seen another person? How long has it been since we've seen sunlight?"

He collapses onto his back dramatically, giving up now on trying to lure Arthur over to the bed. "We're mole people now."

"Considering you spend almost ten hours a day holed up in our bedroom, I'd say you were already halfway there."

Merlin gasps theatrically. "I'm an artist, Arthur. Those comic books aren't going to art themselves!"

Whatever retort Arthur has dies on his lips as Merlin's expression morphs into one of genuine consideration. He's braced his feet on the bed, sitting up and crossing his legs before bouncing in place. Arthur scans their surroundings once more before taking the final few steps towards his boyfriend. Merlin isn't usually this childish, but Arthur can't really blame him. If he's honest with himself, Arthur's confident the only reason he's not cracked himself is due to years of tedious work his father had pushed on him as a child.

"Arthur!"

The blond jumps, startled at Merlin's saying his name in a voice that indicates it's not the first time he's said it in attempts to get the man's attention. Regardless, Arthur shoots his boyfriend a withering look, eyebrows drew together in his signature "What the fuck, Merlin" expression. An expression that never accomplishes anything shy of Merlin grinning mischievously and Arthur's scowl deepening.

"Seriously, Arthur. This bed was made for my arse. And by that, I mean you," Merlin tries again, humming as he leans back against the thousands of pillows placed meticulously against the headboard. He's let his eyes fall shut in content, wiggling just a little bit further down the bed into a position more comfortable. Arthur rolls his eyes and steps closer to where Merlin is sprawled so that he can flick the man's ear. When Arthur inhales deep, ready to tell Merlin precisely what he thinks of the man's behavior, he instead yelps as arms drag him abruptly onto the bed.

“Merlin!” he gasps. “Merlin, no! Stop, I’m serious!”

Merlin does not stop, and Arthur only half-heartedly struggles to free himself from the other man's grip. He continues to squirm, however, trying to get his ass off the side of the bed so that he’ll maybe have enough leverage to slip free. But Merlin, laughing open and unashamed - damn him - has a solid grasp on Arthur and isn’t letting go anytime soon. They struggle for a bit longer, and Arthur, now laughing himself as he tries to wrestle free from his boyfriend, finally submits, letting his arms fall to the side. Merlin crosses his arms over his chest and grins down at Arthur, who is practically in his lap now, triumphantly.

“You’re a child, and, quite frankly, Merlin, I don’t know why I have anything to do with you.” He’s pouting now, eyes shut, and nose upturned in a very holier than thou expression.

Merlin laughs, placing a hand reverently to the side of Arthur’s face and brushing his thumb softly against the man’s cheekbone. “Because you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

At this, Arthur opens one eye and then the other. They sit like that for a moment- Merlin’s soft expression melting Arthur’s dramatic, cool exterior.

“You sound fairly sure of yourself. Is that your final answer?” Merlin doesn’t take the bait, instead choosing the lean in, pressing a kiss to the blond’s forehead. Arthur’s eyes fall shut once more, and a lazy smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. Merlin leans forward another few inches and properly kisses Arthur, whose soft lips are warm and pliant beneath his. The angle is awkward, but who is Merlin to complain? He’s confident that between Arthur landing a new job across the country, and the two of them finally admitting feelings for the other, Arthur hasn’t rested longer than a few hours at a time. It’s sweet, this. Even if it is in the middle of a goddamn IKEA and he himself is ready to pull a fire alarm if it means hightailing it out of there.

This time when he pulls away, Arthur chases after, seeking one more kiss that Merlin indulges him in before rolling away and out from under the blond.

Arthur shoots him a questioning look because, really, there’s no telling what Merlin is going to get into next. The man is unpredictable at best, and yeah, maybe - just maybe - Merlin is right; Arthur wouldn’t have him any other way.

He pushes himself up onto one elbow, twisting his torso to better watch Merlin as he bounces up and down on the bed with an all too endearing expression of pure concentration. At the sight, Arthur struggles to hide a helpless grin, knowing well if Merlin spots it, it’ll only encourage him further.

The effort is futile, as Merlin grins openly when he meets Arthur’s gaze. “Can you feel that?”

“Feel what?” Arthur asks suspiciously because no, he can’t feel anything. Apparently, this is the right answer, because Merlin’s face only brightens further.

“Sold! It’s settled. We’re taking this bad boy home.” He hops off the bed and circles around to where Arthur’s legs hang over the bed, and where Merlin’s shoes still lay abandoned.

“Yeah? How do you figure?”

Merlin rolls his eyes indulgently as if Arthur were missing the obvious. It’s not until he raises an expectant brow that Merlin caves, sighing dramatically as if Arthur is putting him out by having him explain. “You didn’t feel anything. That means whenever I get up in the night to take a leak-”

“To snack, you mean.”

“- you won’t be disturbed. And I won’t wake you in the mornings when I get up early for a run.”

Arthur snorts. “It’s not you crawling out of bed that wakes me, Merlin. It’s your complete inability to do so quietly and without knocking over everything on the dresser and bathroom counter.”

Merlin’s right, though. The mattress lacks the dip and shifts their current one is unfortunately infamous for. This would, of course - Merlin’s late-night snacking or no - make for a much more peaceful and healthier night’s sleep. Arthur tilts his head, considering. Idly, he can hear Merlin in the background offended and protesting the charges laid against him. Too busy to further roast, Arthur tries to work the price slapped onto the headboard into their tight budget.

It’s Merlin’s deep sigh after a moment of silence that pulls Arthur from his thoughts. With two elbows, Arthur props himself up from where he’s been lying, and better eyes Merlin, who is standing between Arthur’s legs with arms crossed over his chest petulantly.

“I mean, I guess if you aren’t satisfied, we can continue to shop. But who knows how long it’ll take. We could be here for days. Maybe even months.” Merlin once again sighs, turns his head to stare dramatically into the distance- very ‘when will Johnny return home from the war?’ style. Arthur rolls his eyes at the theatrics, but the corners of his mouth twitch threateningly into what might’ve grown into an amused grin.

“I thought you’d already said sold.” Arthur finally pushes himself into an upright position and pokes Merlin’s abdomen. The man’s face immediately lights up, sending a wave of warmth through Arthur’s chest at the sight.

“Does this mean we’re free? ‘Cuz I saw this place up the road… Go-Karts, Arthur. Go-Karts. I’m dying to kick your arse!” Arthur huffs in exasperation. And that would explain the daunting and near-immediate boredom on Merlin’s part upon stepping into the shop. With a smirk, he wraps his hands into Merlin’s scarf and tugs him close, Arthur’s thighs locking him in place.

“You’re gonna-? My, aren’t we optimistic today, Mr. Emrys. I sure hope you can deliver.” At this, Merlin raises a challenging brow before his expression twists into something more devious.

“Oh, I’ll more than deliver,” he teases, tilting his head down to capture Arthur’s lips with purpose. The promise of more sends chills down Arthur’s spine and pools low in his abdomen.

Arthur’s hands untangle from the scarf and drop to Merlin’s hips, fingers digging in as he pulls the man snug up against him. His own hips roll lightly when Merlin’s hands find their way into Arthur’s hair and give a sharp tug so to better control the angle. A quiet whine escapes him when they finally part, breathless, and wanting more than their environment will allow.

“I’ll make you a bet,” Merlin says, voice strangled as he pulls once again at Arthur’s hair until the man is less focused on his own breathing and more on the way Merlin’s mouth moves as he speaks. “And when I win, you, Arthur Pendragon, are going to-”

“Excuse you!”

The two men startle, Merlin jerking away at the same time Arthur tries to stand, both nearly tripping over the other in the process. They wear matching expressions of pure mortification as the sharp blue eyes of the man standing before them, mouth downturned and eyebrows furrowed in disapproval, pierce through them.

“Do you, or do you not, see that overbearing sign with large, bold letters stating that the beds are not to be laid or sat upon?”

Merlin opens his mouth to speak, but Arthur elbows him in the side before he can say anything too snarky.

“I am-” he voice cracks, still very affected from moments ago. He clears his throat before finishing, with as much dignity as he can muster, “- so sorry about that.”

Now, standing beside the bed, he absently fiddles with the silver ring on his thumb, ignoring the way his cheeks flush still with embarrassment. He can’t be sure exactly what the man - Mordred, his nameplate reads - would have heard had he happened upon them a mere few seconds later. Knowing Merlin’s filthy mouth, it likely would have been scarring for everyone involved. As it stands, Mordred’s expression does not waver at the uncomfortable apology. Arthur’s eyes cut to Merlin when the man turns towards him fully hands on hips with an appearance reminiscent of a parent about to scold a child.

“Arthur!” he says with an exaggerated and exasperated sigh. “What was I just saying? You can’t wander around testing other people’s beds.” Merlin places a hand over his heart apologetically, turning back towards Mordred, who is watching them still with narrowed, suspicious eyes. “Let me assure you, this will not happen again.”

Merlin plasters on the most trusting smile he can manage. All Arthur can do is stare at his smug boyfriend, jaw nearly dropped, in pure disbelief. Mordred rolls his eyes, spinning on his heels and walking off with a threatening "it better fucking not”  huffed under his breath.

As soon as the man is out of sight, Merlin’s fake smile morphs into something more light-hearted and teasing. He turns to Arthur, who immediately grabs a pillow off the bed and smacks Merlin square in the face, nearly knocking him off balance before hitting him once more, this time over the head. The surprised look on Merlin’s face is priceless, pulling effortless laughter from the blond. He tosses the pillow back onto the bed and crosses his arms triumphantly while Merlin processes having taken a pillow to the face in the middle of IKEA.

Arthur’s smug grin, however, falters when Merlin’s eyes sparkle with something that always ends in trouble. He gets so far as "Merlin, whatever it is you’re thinking"  before Merlin’s arms are wrapped tightly around his waist. They both hit the bed with a thud, bed lurching several inches to the left. The deafening screech of metal against tile and a damning crack - the two of them a sudden, scary four inches closer to the ground at an angle awkward enough they begin sliding towards the floor - has Arthur’s grip on Merlin’s shoulders tighten.

When they hear a loud curse and the sound of shoes swiftly heading their way, they both roll, tumbling to the floor in a heap of flailing limbs. Arthur pushes against Merlin’s gut as he scrambles upright before making a mad dash to escape the scene of the crime, very every man for himself  schoolyard rules as they desperately try to ensure they aren’t the one to get caught. Merlin isn’t too far behind, but without his shoes, his socks slip against the tile, and he hits the ground a second time before finally gaining enough traction to take off towards the kitchen section.

Arthur has lost track of Merlin, and while he thinks he should pause to maybe listen for him, Arthur knows it will be futile, as all he can hear is his heart pounding in his ears. It’s because of this that he doesn’t hear Merlin whisper-shouting his name until he turns a corner, full speed, and slams into the man.

It’s a miracle that their collision doesn’t send them both to the ground, but Merlin somehow managed to steady both of them… Not that it really mattered. Merlin hasn't actually slowed down upon their collision. In fact, in the process of trying to steady Arthur, Merlin's hand had gotten wrapped in the blond’s leather jacket, throwing him even further off balance. And Merlin, damn him, had burst out laughing before slapping a hand to his mouth in order to muffle the noise before taking off again.

Rude.

Mordred now forgotten, Arthur takes off after Merlin, whose eyes widen at the realization, and who throws a breathless,“It was an accident”  over his shoulder while managing to pick up his pace.

It’s when they hit the tile in the bathroom section that Arthur knows he’s got the edge. Stumbling still though in a fit of laughter when up ahead, Merlin’s socks once again slip, and he nearly tumbles to the ground. The floor inevitably wins out- This Arthur knows when up ahead he sees Merlin turn a sharp corner of display counters and, not three feet down the aisle, trip, upper torso disappearing from Arthur’s sight and never reappearing.

When Arthur finally catches up to him, Merlin is laid out on his back, arms outstretched, staring up at the ceiling in defeat, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Arthur comes to a stop beside him and bends over, hands on his knees as he too tries to catch his breath. They’re both red-faced, breathless and laughing.

After a moment, Arthur reaches out a hand and pulls Merlin to his feet. They’re both grinning, Merlin bent sideways with an elbow resting on one of the counters, when Arthur punches his shoulder, which, honestly, only makes Merlin laugh harder.

“Oi! What was that for?”

“You almost threw me to the ground back there!” He says it like they were in the trenches.

“I was not about to get caught!” Merlin exclaims indignantly. “You heard me! I assured him that it wouldn’t happen again. And I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”

“Merlin, you're an absolute prat.” At this Merlin grins, turning around and drawing Arthur closer by the very jacket he’d nearly dragged him to the floor with. Arthur scowls but lets himself be pulled into Merlin’s embrace. When Merlin kisses the corner of his lips, still laughing softly to himself, Arthur tries and fails to smother a grin of his own.

“Of course, I am. But I’m your prat.” Merlin flashes Arthur a proud, cocky smirk and slides his hands from Arthur’s hips to his lower back, pulling him even closer. Arthur looks at Merlin’s stupid attractive face and his stupid warm eyes, and fuck, he absolutely loves this man.

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day.” Arthur buries his fist in the front of Merlin’s scarf and leans in, kissing him with fervor until the man melts against him with a small, pleased sound. Eventually, Arthur pulls back with a mischievous expression and starts navigating his way towards the nearest checkout, dragging Merlin with him.

“Now let’s go order that bloody mattress so I can beat your arse at Go-Karts. And afterward, I’ll tell you, as the loser, exactly what you can do for me tonight. In excruciating detail.”

Merlin thinks maybe losing wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

[veryvincible]

The Shitstorm That Is TS:IM and IM2020: The Tony Critique

Part 1 / 4!

Because this sucks, and we need to acknowledge that this sucks.

2 3 4

First of all, a nod to the stunning art that these issues feature. I’m sorry, artists, that you had to work with plotlines so damning. Now that that’s over with, let’s start from the first issue of Tony Stark: Iron Man.

The first thing you’ll probably notice is the result of 616 canon being negatively affected by the characterization of the MCU. Now, the MCU is an entirely different universe. Tony Stark acts differently here because, well... MCU Tony Stark is a different person than 616 Tony Stark. Ultimates Tony Stark is also a different person than 616 Tony Stark. Iron Man Noir is also-- You get the point. These Tonys act differently because they have different natures branching off of the same core. They have different experiences. They have different environments and resources.

So, to understand why it’s totally mega-fucked for 616 Tony’s personality to undergo such a dramatic change, you have to understand what 616 Tony originally was and how he acted.

I have a lot to say about 616 Tony, but we don’t have time for that, so here’s a breakdown from @sineala​ that does an excellent job of giving you the rundown. In essence, 616 Tony is mellow. He’s calmer. He’s charismatic, but in an adult scholarly way. He’s what you’d picture if someone said “respectable businessman” out loud. The closest to 616 Tony the MCU has ever gotten is mid-CW, where Tony’s somber with undertones of guilt and exhaustion. This is him.

616 Tony also has a lot of respect for people. There’s always the odd comic that characterizes him as bigoted in some way, shape, or form, but he consistently puts minorities in positions of power, and for literal decades has appreciated and funded certain charities and organizations that aim to do the same thing. Tony treats people with respect even after they’ve severely wronged him.

So, when the first issue makes our low-key, melancholy Tony Stark who treats people with a professional baseline of respect say wacky shit like this:

We get kind of frustrated.

Not to mention the fact that Tony’s past has also been adjusted to fit the desires of the writers, who seem to have forgotten that Tony was canonically a quiet and sensitive kid (hence why Howard wanted him to “man up” so hard).

"Quiet and sensitive.”

Anyway, here’s further evidence that this run is MCU-ifying Tony Stark in order to make him more friendly to the MCU-to-Comic demographics:

Sitting down onstage to talk to the press is such a Tony thing to do, right?

Well, sure, if you watched Iron Man 1 (and even then, that was one speech! Just one!) If you read any comic featuring Tony at his 616-est, however, you’d figure out pretty quickly that this man likes a podium. His tone is professional, as opposed to conversational. He doesn’t center his whole personality around the fact that he’s an authority figure, but he also doesn’t go out of his way to make himself seem like he’s not. He’s in a position of power. He knows it.

For reference, here’s what “knowing it” looks like. Obviously, this is a more formal occasion than a regular ol’ press conference would be, but... you get the point. This is pretty much his vibe.

And then there’s this bullshit, which is obviously a nod to the MCU in the most shocking and upsetting of ways. Note the trademark pose, the “We are Iron Man,” most likely pointing to both the “I am Iron Man” bit that the MCU had (which 616 Tony didn’t do the second the superhero was popularized, because he was spending all of his time living his life identity-porn style), and maybe the “We are Groot” bit from GOTG.

The thing is, this “We are Iron Man!” mentality fits... no Tony. MCU Tony sees Iron Man as a part of himself. 616 Tony often refers to Iron Man as a separate entity (not concept, but entity) from himself, better and more desirable than him, when he’s having his shittiest days.

And then there’s shit like this, which is objectively shitty. But because Tony’s funky new playboy attitude is comedic and all, he’s going to ignore the fact that Rhodey’s having a post-traumatic episode just piloting the suit (which he’s doing because Tony asked him to, when he could have asked... I don’t know, anyone else?) in favor of being a dick to him.

“You’re all over the place,” says the character who’s canonically diagnosed with MDD and experiences severe PTSD of his own to the other character who has severe PTSD and is being hardcore triggered by something he’s previously referred to as a metal coffin or casket or something.

That’s not even beginning to mention the fact that he’s calling Sunset Bain, a canonically manipulative and shitty ex (who, fun fact, was 5 years older than “undergrad Tony Stark” at MIT, and convinced Tony to keep her a secret from Howard and Maria) “the pretty-but-evil lady.”

So... she’s abusive, but at least she’s hot! And Tony still feels this way about her despite the fact that she, uh... stole some of his ideas, split up with him soon after, and then founded her entire company off of these ideas.

Very cool, Marvel. Thanks for that.

And hey, remember Tony’s fucking awesome quote from Avengers Vol 4?

“I can create a world without war. I can make a world without alcohol or drugs. Without hate or jealousy. But then it wouldn't be the world we live in. Nothing would be learned, nothing would be gained. We wouldn't advance as species.”

Well, here’s a fun fact. He doesn’t give a shit about any of that anymore, because fuck depth, right? Now he wants to ctrl+alt+delete the shit that makes him sad. And obviously, obviously alcoholism is something that’s understandably hated. Of course he’d want to get rid of it ASAP. But this is a guy who practically lives in guilt, a guy who thinks he deserves all the shit he gets and only ever crawls out of it for the sake of his loved ones.

That’s not this Tony. 

And then there’s this. Honestly, I have no words for this. If it were some joke intended for an audience around him, then sure, it could work. It’s not like Tony never makes these kinds of jokes.

But this is just him. Him and a recording of himself in a room. Him, saying “I love the sound of my own voice” to himself despite the fact that we have decades of 616 canon proving the opposite.

There are many, many other issues with these issues (pun intended, but please read it with a cynical, if not completely hostile, tone) and how Tony acts within them, but I’m going to go more in-depth with those in some separate posts.

Because this is Hell. For my sins, I’ve become a torturer. For yours, you have to be subjected to even more of TS:IM than anyone should be exposed to.

[buckybarnesbingo]

BBB Week 26 Roundup

You wanna hear something disturbing?  There are TWELVE WEEKS LEFT in this round of the BBB!  AMAZING AND FRIGHTENING.

And you get the very first whisper of this news... next weekend (October 17th) we will be having another Discord party!  More info to come about that...

Title: On the watch Collaborator: Menatiera Link: AO3 Square Filled: Y1 - BAMF Bucky Ship: background Stuckony Rating: Teen Major Tags: Winter on a mission, Bucky and Winter are separate personalities, happy ending Summary: The Winter Soldier takes his missions seriously. This Mark shouldn't cause any troubles. And then he does. Word Count: 3427

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Title: The One Death Left Behind Collaborator: rebelmeg Link: AO3 Square Filled: B3 – “Dyin’ ain’t so bad.” Ship: None Rating: Teen Major Tags: assassination, death, introspection, angst Summary: Bucky Barnes has had just about every kind of experience with death that there could possibly be. Except one. Word Count: 850

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Title: Making Waves Collaborator: hddnone Link: AO3 Square Filled: K3 - Arranged Marriage Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: Creature fic, octoBucky & merTony, allusions to sex & public sex Summary: Tony and Bucky come up with an unconventional plan to escape Tony's arranged marriage. Word Count: 1106

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Title: Reveal on skin Collaborator: Menatiera Link: Tumblr Square Filled: B3 - Team dynamics Ship: Stuckony Rating: Gen Major Tags: cursed!Tony, moodboard Summary: Moodboard and summary. Villain of the Week casts a curse on Tony to “reveal his true nature on his skin”. Instead of horrors, though, Tony’s hands start to resemble the night sky with thousands of stars. Word Count: 363

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Title: Art: Fireworks Collaborator: dreaminglypeach Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Y5 - star watching Ship: Stucky Rating: Ten Major Tags: pre-war, pre-serum Steve, fireworks, fluff, art Summary: Steve and Bucky and fireworks

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Title: Sight Collaborator: Menatiera Link: Tumblr Square Filled: C2 - [picture of Steve and Bucky standing next to each other] Ship: Stuckony Rating: Gen Major Tags: moodboard, retired!steve, blind!steve, happy!steve Summary: Steve goes blind and retires - much to his boyfriends Tony’s and Bucky’s bafflement. Word Count: 222

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Title: air and space Collaborator: plutosrose Link: AO3 Square Filled: C1 - Mistaken Identity Ship: Stucky Rating: Teen Major Tags: Identity Issues, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Memory, Smithsonian, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Whumptober 2020, alt. 9 memory loss Summary: “He was smaller,” he breathed to himself, forgetting for a brief moment that one of the cardinal rules of any mission was to make sure that he didn’t make any noise.-A man visits the Smithsonian. Word Count: 2027

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Title: Is It Better to Have Loved and Lost? Collaborator: Purple_ducky00 Link: AO3 Square Filled: B4 - Rescue Mission Ship: WinterIron Rating: Mature Major Tags: Graphic Violence, Torture, Gore(?), Kidnapping, Not Really Character Death (assumed), Angst, Hopeful Ending Summary: Tony was kidnapped, and Bucky goes to rescue him. It doesn't all go according to plan this time. Word Count: 846

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Title: The Curious Witch and the Cursed Wolf - Chapter 1: A Man and A Wolf Collaborator: riotwritesthings Link: AO3 Square Filled: C2 - AU: medieval/fantasy Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: fantasy AU, witch!Tony, wolf!Bucky, fairytale vibes, Non-graphic injury Summary: Once upon a time there was a man, and a wolf. They both went into the forest looking for different things, and instead they found each other. Word Count: 1288

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Title: Breaking Free Collaborator: shadow-ravin Link: AO3 Square Filled: Y1 - AU: Supervillain Ship: None Rating: Teen Major Tags: Alternate Universe - Supervillain, podfic included, Podfic Length: 0-10 Minutes Summary: Bucky breaks free of Hydra before the movies. Hydra tells the world he is the villain. Word Count: 419

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Title: To Love Every Peace Of You Collaborator: Fighting_for_Creativity Link: AO3 Square Filled: K1 - Kink: BODY WORSHIP Ship: WinterIron Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Angst and Fluff, Body Worship (Kink), Clowns, Idiots In Love, mentioned PTSD Summary: James Bucky Barnes and Tony Stark have been together for several months. But somehow they haven't gotten intimate in bed yet. Some miscommunication could be the reason for it. Oh, and Tony's birthday is around the corner, meaning James needs to come up with a present. Thankfully, the villain of the week gives him the perfect idea. Word Count: 4080

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Title: To Be Warm Collaborator: darter-blue Link: AO3 Square Filled: K1 - Huddling for Warmth Ship: Stucky Rating: Mature Major Tags: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Fluff, Huddling for Warmth, Sharing a bed, Getting Together Summary: It's cold. Like, ridiculously cold. And Bucky is awake - partly because his brain just won't shut off tonight, and partly because the comforter, the blanket, the other blanket and the three pairs of socks he's wearing are just not enough to keep the cold out. Bucky hates the cold. Back living with Steve and finding his way to recovery, Bucky just wants to be warm... and it just so happens that the warmest place in the apartment is in Steve's bed - right up next to Steve, the human furnace... But does Bucky have it in him to crawl in next to Steve and borrow some of that warmth? Will Steve let him? Will it turn out that Steve has wanted Bucky there all along? For my Bucky Barnes Bingo Square: K1/ Huddling for warmth Word Count: 1015

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Title: in the woods somewhere Collaborator: nightwideopen Link: AO3 Square Filled: B5 - Bucky/Natasha/Clint Ship: Bucky/Natasha/Clint Rating: Mature Major Tags: several mentions of death & suicidal ideation/attempts, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Character Death, Magical Realism, Dark Fairy Tale Elements Summary: The only thing Clint cares about is the aching sadness in his bones that won't go away, and that one way or another, the witch can help him.And if that means feeding him to a feral snarling beast, then so be it. Word Count: 2271

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Title: Emotional Complications - Chapter 1 Collaborator: TiBun Link: AO3 Square Filled: - Major Injuries Ship: Steve/Bucky/Clint Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Major Character Death, violence, ABO, explicit sexual content Summary: Clint was hurting. He'd lost the love of his life, and suddenly life wasn't something he wanted to participate in as he kept himself locked away from the outside world. Steve hated seeing Clint like that and reached out, hoping to be enough to help the archer experience some of the good in life once more. Neither of them ever expected to see Bucky again. Word Count: 8709

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Title: Modify, Babe. Collaborator: fightingforcreativity Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K3 - Kink: BODY MODEFICATION Ship: WinterIron Rating: Mature Major Tags: DARK, not cap friendly, not avengers friendly, Rhodey is a good bro, Pepper is a good bro, Bucky POV,  Body Modification (Kink) Summary: Word Count:

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Title: After a Long Day Collaborator: saganarojanaolt Link: Tumblr Square Filled: U1 - Lingerie Kink Ship: None Rating: Mature Major Tags: art, nsfw Summary: Bucky art

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Title: Stop Me if You've Heard This One Before Collaborator: Faustess Link: AO3 Square Filled: K1 - Vulnerability Ship: pre-Bucky/Tony/Steve Rating: Teen Major Tags: Anxiety, Angst (with a happy ending) Summary: An artist, a super-soldier, and a billionaire walk into a bar - you haven't heard this one yet, have you? Tony Stark, recently divorced dad, head of Stark Industries' R&D department, and Iron Man, has been lonely. Rhodey's the best co-parent anyone could ask for, but he's moving on... and Tony's lonely. Bucky Barnes was pulled out of the ice almost five years ago. Even now, he's still not comfortable with the celebrity that goes along with being Captain America. And it's isolating being both younger than your teammates and at least 3 generations older. Bucky's lonelier than he'd ever thought possible. Steve Rogers made a name for himself as a graphic designer and illustrator - good with both digital apps and hand-drawn sketches. But romantically, there may as well be tumbleweeds and dust in his bedroom - it's that close to a ghost town. It's hard to be taken seriously, though when you're 5'4" and 100 lbs soaking wet... and that's a lonely life. So a better way to phrase this would be: three lonely hearts walk into a bar to see what they can find. Word Count: 4007