#it was this great balance of this shouldn’t have happened and this death truly matters and

[aro-laurance-zvahl]

you wanna know the worst part about Martin i was talking about? I knew he was going to die in the end. I knew the whole time. It had been spoiled for me. But I didn't know how or why or where exactly the end of the quest was. And even still. Even still... man. I had to sit back and just... man

I guess unexpected was the wrong way for me to word it, because even when you expect them they can still leave you in a mess

What I meant more was that their death couldn’t be tied so deeply into the narrative that the story itself nearly depended on it, like Prim from Hunger Games. But it can’t have been for shock value either, because then it’s unsatisfying and not tied well enough into the plot.

Their death has to feel wrong because they as a character still had life in them, had a life to live and wasn’t doomed for destruction by the narrative but at the same time it can’t feel like their story was cut short. It’s such a tricky balance but when it’s struck just right, it can be one of the most powerful (fictional) deaths you’ve ever experienced

In the tags I’m gonna go into one or two that I think really nailed this. They’ll be from this DND actual play show Dimension 20’s Crown of Candy. I don’t know if you’ve seen it or if it’s on your watch list (obligatory subscribe to Dropout here!! Great streaming service 10/10) but from your posts I definitely think you’d like it! The first ep is free on YouTube

[tiny-maus-boots]

Darkest of Nights pt 10

A/N: Did not go as I intended. like at all. but this is what came out of my lunch break mania.

Aubrey

She was trapped. Well and truly. Aubrey snarled when a shaft of sunlight burned across her face and prevented her from creeping around the trunk of the tree she was using for cover. As the sun rose higher in the sky it shrunk her shady sanctuary by degrees. Soon there would be no cover at all where she stood. The vampire edged around the other side of the tree as far as she could before bits of bark blew apart a finger's width from her shoulder.

Whatever they were, they hurt. And while she would survive them, the damage they dealt would take time and blood to heal. She had several of the cursed things buried in her back and at least one in her leg that kept her from bending at the knee all the way.

There was nowhere for her to go without the canopy cover and solid trunk of her tree. She had promised Harun she would see his line safe at any cost and she had failed him for centuries. More than that she had promised Chloe she would live and fight for Beca. The one person that had done what she could not. The only person that had fought to keep her alive no matter how she wished for true death. The one person she could not bear to fail. The blonde tipped her head back to look at the towering structure then wrapped her arms around the trunk, her clawed hands piercing deeply into the wood with a creaking crunch. 

"I am sorry friend, but I would uproot Yggdragsil and the 9 worlds to keep this promise." 

The roar of rage echoed around them and she used all her strength to rip the tree, roots and all, from the ground. Great clumps of moist earth shook free and dropped to the ground with each slowly staggered step forward. It wasn’t the weight that dragged steps as much as the awkward balance. It wouldn’t matter for long, she had no intention of running through the forest carrying a tree. She simply needed to be rid of the single remaining Blood Guard standing in the path between her and Chloe and Beca. 

Aubrey chanced a quick look around the trunk to sight her target and then she heaved with all the strength in her body. The tree groaned under its own weight and sailed in a low arc toward the lush canopy hiding the other vampire. There was no time for her to ensure she hit them, she had to move as quickly as she could to the next nearest patch of shade and try to make her way back to where she knew Chloe was waiting. 

The sun broke through the trees in patches making her route a half blur of speed, half stumbled zigzag through the woods. She fell heavily against a tree, smoke rising from her horned face in thin wisps. Aubrey was glad for the thick leather tactical suit that covered her body but her head was still exposed. She shouldn’t have taken her helmet off, she realized that now, far too late of course. A league at least separated her from her goal, normally a span she could traverse with ease. Aubrey gazed out over the flat expanse bathed in the bright warm glow of sunlight. There was nothing to protect her. Just direct sunlight.

She held no illusions about what would happen next. There was no foe so great as the sun. Dread welled up like a tide of sick and the darkest parts of her railed against what she was about to do next. Sweat beaded on her upper lip and Aubrey raised her ax high enough to give her the barest of shade.

The vampire lunged forward with jerky, uneven steps. Before half a dozen steps flames engulfed her head. The pain was immense, the sun drained her of her strength the longer she was subjected to it the harder it was to drag herself along. She was blind, following only the vision of Chloe’s laughter filled blue eyes seared into her memory.

If she concentrated enough she could almost hear Beca's voice vibrating with power. It settled in her chest, coiling around her heart, tugging her forward to its source. She followed that thread step by agonizing step until something collided with her body, spinning her around and sending her crashing to the ground. 

Aubrey grappled weakly with her attacker until they rolled into the blessedly cold water of a body of water. It was shallow and she thrashed as the burn seemed to burrow to the center of her body, destroying her from the inside. She gasped in great lungfuls of water trying to drown out the searing pain of a final death.

She felt hands struggle with the zipper to her jacket, roughly yanking it open enough for a single hand to reach the bare skin of her chest. Her body convulsed once under the shock of a pulse of powerful magic then went still as the soothing chill of the grave eased over and through her. 

Be still. 

Beca. She could hear her there, in her own head, feel her as if the necromancer were there joined to her own spirit. There was only silence now and the calming weight of hands holding her down in safety. Aubrey groaned softly and dragged her sodden, leather covered arm out of the water to rest gratefully over the pair hands holding her anchored to this life while the tiny insidious ember was finally doused.

It had been a near thing. A very near thing. Aubrey had never been so close to being nothing but a pile of dust and broken promises. And her very last thoughts had not been of Harun and their reunion at last. It was shocking to realize in that moment that she would do for Beca and Chloe what she could not do for Harun. Whatever it took to be with them, she would do. Even if it meant walking into the sun.

[utilitycaster]

Sure! Why is Taz Ethersea validating why a pre-calamity campaign would be a bad idea?

Okay first off I do want to thank you all! I think I probably would have eventually made a post, because opinions are stored in the Tumblr blog but I don't think I would have thought through it beyond the simplest answer of "actual play D&D is uniquely unsuited for a narrative with a foregone conclusion" but I think it goes beyond that and getting these questions led me to think about it much more.

Also: this post will be full of spoilers for prior TAZ and Critical Role campaigns.

That simple answer is still the right one. I'll admit I have many biases - I don't like stories where the ending is total failure, vs. something bittersweet and mixed; I am very picky about my cataclysm/apocalypse narratives; and I like to avoid spoilers and be surprised by endings. But in particular, one of the greatest elements of D&D actual play is that the long shot is possible. You can roll that 5% chance of becoming conscious instead of dying, or 15% chance of divine intervention, or what have you in a desperate situation. You still might fail, but there's a chance.

Which is one of the other great elements of D&D actual play is that the long shot failure is also possible; the 5% chance of dying sooner than expected or fumbling what should be an easy hit (or an enemy succeeding when they shouldn't).

A big part of why I'm struggling with TAZ Ethersea right now isn't actually the forgone conclusion. A big part is the mechanics, which just don't come off as terribly suited for an audio-only medium (even with the shared map, we don't get the images drawn in sync with the podcast which is what you'd need to really follow along properly). But it doesn't help that I know that when the Storm comes, they at least in some capacity make it. A lot of what appeals to me in the Quiet Year is the map-making and description of a small community and the idea of worldbuilding as the end-goal rather than a starting point, but a significant part of the premise is that the community has a year, but does not realize it. They know they have to prepare for winter, but they don't know that winter will be marked by the Frost Giants. And I don't begrudge the McElroys for using this for worldbuilding, for a number of in-game and out-of-game reasons, but the fact that they do know they have a year and that we as listeners know that obviously some kind of undersea society is able to be built after that year due to the premise of the main portion of the campaign has taken out most of the tension.*

We know how the Age of Arcanum ends. We don't know details, but we know what happens. We also know the Calamity is generations long (Halas being both a few generations after Aeor's destruction and also pre-divergence), and ends in the Divergence, and afterwards the world slowly rebuilds.

Any campaign therefore has a couple of options. Either it would have to be long before the Calamity to allow for some degree of freedom of choice in what the players are doing (which is generally not the vibe I'm getting from people interested in a pre-Calamity campaign), and also...I don't really get what that accomplishes that a new relatively unexplored location wouldn't. The other would be that it's either a campaign that never gets to any kind of significant catastrophe aversion goal (which...while I do not believe actual play casts are in any way obligated to cater to the fandom other than general sensitivity towards other people, stopping some kind of large-scale terrible event and/or big bad is a pretty central concept of the genre even when other elements of it are played with), or one that we know fails in that goal (or at least...only succeeds in saving about a third of all people) before it starts.

It's true that usually, we as viewers go into a D&D story expecting some measure of success (I could write a whole separate essay on why TPKs aren't great viewing for a long-running campaign) but CR in particular has made it clear that there is still a capacity for some amount of failure, or mixed success; there is still perma-death, or victory at great cost, or initial failure that has consequences that cannot be avoided even by later success. Something all actual play DM/GMs (and in many cases, regular old home game DM/GMs) have to do is walk that nearly invisible line where truly, success and failure are both options but total all-consuming failure is extremely difficult to achieve while still not making things seem too easy or unearned. A pre-calamity story puts that already monumental balancing act on Extremely Hard Mode because a large amount of failure as well as a small amount of success is inherently built in.

It also makes it much harder for stories like the one we had in C2 about Aeor, or for that matter, C1 about Vecna, to resonate in the same way, since both used the mystery of the pre-Calamity/Calamity eras to tell those stories. I love dramatic irony but there's a limit; there should be some mystery for the audience and players, not just the characters. If a creator puts a huge mysterious cataclysm in the past, there's a reason for that! Ethersea could have just been "it's an underwater society because it's fantasy" and that would have been perfectly fine, but it's not! That's a creative choice! The mystery of the Calamity is almost certainly by design!

In the end the thing that gets me about TAZ Ethersea is that I usually love the worldbuilding/character concept episodes of D&D shows that have them, and the Q&A/talkback episodes...but I'm learning that I want people to talk about those finished products in a big-picture way. I may be guessing here but I think people want pre-Calamity lore, but they would not actually enjoy a full, 100+ episode campaign of pre-Calamity happenings that is both hamstrung by forgone conclusions and may hamstring other stories that are to take place in the future. I think some comics, or a novel, or a small scope EXU mini-series, or like...a really long tweet thread from Matt about some pre-Calamity lore would actual satisfy that curiosity more effectively while also allowing them to preserve the important mysteries. Or, building from previous campaigns, having C3 exist a few decades after C2, where the consequences of the many archaeological expeditions and the return of the Aeormatons are becoming widespread, would similarly give us the ancient lore while still providing the open, unpredictable world actual play is uniquely suited for.

*just to make it clear: I'm complaining about the Ethersea setup epidosdes because I love complaining about things but if I actually found it wholly unenjoyable I would stop listening and skip ahead, completionism be damned. There are plenty of bright spots, mostly when they stop following the rules of the game and introduce specific character beats, and I am excited by the consequences, it's just...almost 5 hours long and still going.

[mc-critical]

I was curious since you were just talking about Suleyman sisters. Which one is your favourite and what would you change in their storylines? (Me: I would Sah being in love with Ibrahim and her and Hürrem being enemies, because I truly someone from the imperial family liked Hürrem)

I honestly love all of them. Even though they all share a similar purpose in the narrative on the outset (that is, being antagonists to Hürrem), they have distinct motivations and personalities that always succeed to make them so interesting to analyze.

Despite of that, I have to say that my favourite is Hatice. She's the one who felt most fleshed out, with the widest arrays of personality and relationships and I sympathize with her in nearly every level. While I know that S03 Hatice could turn people off and I could understand why in theory (good flanderization is still flanderization after all and her "Heel Face Turn" could feel underwhelming after Hü's huge E63 victory and it lowkey makes for kind of a soft reset of the show's status-quo, but not only I haven't seen this actually being used in arguments against her, but this is solely a writing problem that didn't even originate from her and wasn't totally fixed until the end.), I felt this was the most logical step in her arc and her development made complete sense, no matter how flanderizing it was and how tragic it ended up being. [poor Hatice :(] I have analyzed her character and why I love her so much as well in more detail here.

The one thing I would change is, again, her spending more time with Osman and Huricihan. The need of having kids was set up as a very important part of her character from the beggining and Osman and Huricihan's birth could've felt as a new wave of hope after the devastating child losses. It felt like they were the start of an entirely new chapter of her life where she could enjoy the company of her kids the way she so wanted to, but the birth of Huricihan and Osman ended up being only the finale of Hatice's worries over her children, a satisfying end to these arcs of hers where she could finally find happiness at last and with this it was over. It wasn't built on at all and this whole angle of Hatice's character was seemingly dropped just like that. While I get that her storyline was very densely packed and they may not have had time, they could've given us a few scenes at the very least, especially in S03B where they would play part in empowering even more Hatice's tragic arc, being a reminder of Ibrahim. Not to mention that Huricihan would've been a much better character if that set-up existed.

I adore Şah Sultan, as well and I actually enjoy her dynamic with Hatice even more than her dynamic with Hürrem, because it tells us much more about who she is. It was so enjoyable to watch these two sisters confront each other on not so few instances, while still loving each other. I love how Şah's ambition contrasts so well with her genuine care for the people she loves (like Hatice and Esmahan) and how her pragmatism could actually get in the way of that care, while we could still see that the two coexist in her regardless. It makes her motivation so interesting to figure out in a way we haven't seen before or after with any other character. Her love for Ibrahim.. while yes, I get that it may seem a little weird, putting so much stuff in their past into another context that could draw the line between "this makes sense" and "how exactly did that happen?", it explains why Şah may have this deep seated resentment to Hatice, it is a nicely used plot-device to drive conflict between them (the conflict set-up in their past that is outside of their clash of ideals and philosophies in the present and near future) and her and Lütfi later. It makes her more interesting, too, because it shows her ability to let go of her feelings when she sees is necessary. Her approach is also very interesting and unique (at least at first) and while I find most of her scenes with Hürrem generic, she was a formidable and effective antagonist. I also find interesting that in rewatch, you do see that out of her and Hatice, it's Şah who is more elitist, interestingly enough. (because while Hatice mostly pulls rank out of ignorance or when she's challanged outright, Şah pulls rank not only in confrontation, but in casual conversations with people around her, as well - E87 is a perfect example of this. She also views the dynasty as something even more valuable that shouldn't ever be touched - her not wanting to fight Mihrimah in the end, even though I'm sure she could've outsmarted her if she truly wanted to, she wanted the most out of anyone in S03B for the dynasty members to have each other's backs and support each other no matter what and she was as ready as Hatice to stand behind what the dynasty represents, but not on a more personal level like Hatice, rather on standing behind its laws and traditions, like Ayşe Hafsa.)

What I would change with her, is that intrigue of hers that succeeded to have Hürrem be exiled for the third time. There's nothing wrong with the intrigue neither writing-wise, nor with Şah's character in it, and I kinda appreciate Hürrem's overspending there as a parallel to Mahidevran's overspending in S02, showing that they're not so different after all in a bunch of cases. But otherwise, the whole thing felt like pointless filler that only repeats some aspect of previous storylines. Yet another harem riot, though not as large in scale, and that almost contrived exile, which served nothing in the end (except for showing how Hürrem has gained a decent network of political allies, but that was shown before the exile, too). I would probably make it a far more complex, but still to the point intrigue, the outcome of which sure wouldn't be another exile for an episode. This also wouldn't have been the ending culmination of Şah's careful plans against Hürrem, either. (Ayaz Pasha's death afterwards was relatively quickly planned in comparison! Like.. c'mon..)

Fatma is my least favourite sister of the sisters, but she certainly has her moments. I love her debut and I love how fun loving she is, I sorta wish we saw even more of that. I actually don't recall a moment where Fatma ever pulled rank on someone in the way Hatice in E26 did and Şah so casually does and if there truly isn't any moment like that, then I love her even more for it. What is even more interesting is how her motivation is a promise made to Mustafa (even though this whole motivation is kinda strange writing-wise, since she's an entirely new character and the devotion to Mustafa could look like something the writers only came up with in the heat of the moment for S04A's bad use of flashbacks and to make yet another antagonist for Hürrem... Fatma could've been next to Mustafa when he was a child in Manisa and she liked him as a child, who knows? That coupled with Mahidevran probably reminding him of Fatma's existence, as well.) and how far she's going to go to fulfill it, even after his death. It all showed a side of hers that is willing to put the dynasty members in intrigue (the way she put Selim and Bayezid against one another and even when she played that game on Mihrimah), an interesting contrast with the other sisters, who would do anything but, at least not so consciously. (I'm referring to Şah's very first scheme against Hürrem, in E85-6) I love how she scolded Mihrimah in E121 and I love how they showed her sorrow for Mustafa's death. (that little scene where she said: "I failed.." was so touching, honestly... It shows how devoted she was to it all) Her relationship with Kara Ahmet is also pretty great.

What I would change with her, is her part in the menopause plot. The episode itself is such a weird and tonal mess, but Fatma there was at her worst and I don't agree with her making fun of Hürrem like this. I get the purpose of the episode and scene, but it still sits wrong with me and since that was our first episode with Fatma, it rendered her a little petty for me when I was first watching. I wouldn't have had Fatma tell it out loud for everyone to hear, I would've probably made her show Hürrem she knew in a confrontation similar to Hürrem and Mahidevran's (hey, a part of their formula could work for once!) between both of them during the entertainment. I would have also given her a little more balanced screentime. In some episodes it was very fine, but in others, it felt like she was more shoved into the background.

About Hürrem having at least one dynasty member to like Hürrem - I agree, it would be a breath of fresh air, to say the least, there should've been this kind of variety. If there is one I would make a friend of Hürrem's (at the most part), that would be Beyhan.

I would have given her more screentime, especially in S01-2, she could be there to advice and support her sisters even more and for them to calm down from the games and intrigues. She wouldn't play such a big role in the story, aside from an arc or two that would be different from working against Hürrem. Her and Hürrem would be usually on good terms, since her emotional maturity would let her understand at least a bit of her side of the story and wouldn't be so quick to accuse her. (as she wasn't when she learned of how Hatice learned about Nigar and Ibrahim) Beyhan can't be fully on board with her, of course, because moments where Hürrem tramples on Hatice's happiness directly or indirectly could put them at odds, but I feel Beyhan's personality and shtick would be the best suited for a friendship with Hürrem of sorts. Since she still wouldn't be part of the throne war, Hürrem would have no reasons to act against her personally, either. (now, S03B could be a problem, but then we could... have her return to her castle permanetly?) It would've been epic if Şah had only her dynamic with Hatice in the story, but I don't think that alone would be enough for the writers, because they sure were searching for someone to replace Ibrahim as a more prominent antagonist until S04's switch of focus and enrichment of storylines. 

[praphit]

A message from Reverend Candyman

Before I even entered the theater, I was mad. I was mad due to certain people on social media stating that this film is "too woke", "super-woke", "BLM propaganda", etc, etc.

I'm not saying that they're right or wrong, at this point, but how did those people not know what they were getting into? Did they not watch any "Candyman" films before this? Do they not know of Jordan Peele's previous film productions? Have they never seen any of Key & Peele? It's mostly race stuff!

Some of them were probably only hate-watching. There a re a handful of pundits I like to hate-watch. Sometimes, getting heated by their takes fuels my work days. But, I know what I’m doing to myself... *smh* but these people.

I didn't stay mad for long though, because Nia DaCosta, the director of "Candyman", is on point! This whole movie, strictly from a cinematic view, is very cool. How bout that?? "The Rambling Praphit says Candyman is VERY COOL." :) She'll be working on the next Capt Marvel movie. 

Most people did not like that movie (I'm excluded from that crowd). Marvel is so scared of the public's dislike of that movie, that they're not even calling it "Capt Marvel 2". It's just called "The Marvels"; leaving the first movie's "captain" as far away from the title as they could. I bring this up, cuz after watching "Candyman", I have high hopes for "The Marvels".

In the trailer we see some shadow puppet type action going on to tell Candyman's story.

So, if you haven't seen the 1992 film, you can get mostly caught up. A creative way to knock out exposition.

They still didn't get into why Candyman rocks a pimpish coat. Or why he's called "Candyman". I mean... they address the name, kinda... (Razor blades in candy - also seen in the trailer) but there's a bit of a hole in the timeline of that story. Plus, how would Candyman (a vengeful spirit) even have the time or patience required to put razor blades in hard candy? If he were an actual pimp named "Candyman", it would make more sense... but anyway...

The main character (Anthony, played by Yahya Adbul Mateen II) 

needed more of Candyman's story , so he went into the depths to find more horror, and he found it. Now, there's a white woman, who's the main character in the 1992 version, who does the same thing, and... let's just say things end poorly for her, and Anthony is foolishly following in her footsteps.

He's a broke visual artist, but thankfully he's got himself a suga mama (played by Teyonah Parris) , 

a not-so-broke art gallery director named Brianna. Lesson number one, you broke artists - gym membership. 

Follow the path of Yahya. He’s the only hard candy mama needs! Keep that suga mama money coming to fuel your art.

I appreciate this couple though - a lot of times (in movies) we see black couples where the woman is struggling to feed the kids with like 3 or 4 jobs, while the man juggles cheating on her, being involved with drugs, and dreaming of one day being the greatest rapper there ever was. We've been there and done that with black movie couples enough.

But, Candyman can't allow this couple to be too happy, so the killing begins!

Say his name 5 times! He dares you! After the fifth time, he appears to brutally kill you. What kind of game is that? I could see if it was a 50/50 chance - win some money or die, but straight up 100% death? Who would play such a game?? 

"Let's go to the top of a snowy, slippery mountain. Let's slide down it with crazy speed and immovable objects in our way." Who’s game?

(white people)

"Let's take a detour through the woods, at night, right pass the area where those teenagers were murdered, LAST NIGHT... I don't think they ever caught the perp. Oh, well... let's go!" Who’s going?

(white people)

So, who will play the candyman name game? - white people, of course :)

I heard someone say that Candyman is only killing white people. That’s not true #1, but #2 - they’re the ones mostly playing this game.

No, this isn't just some movie about a black, pimpish, man with a hook, killing white people. We've got story as well.

Three parts to this story, actually:

The look -

Which I mentioned is great! The gruesome horror elements and the killings are well done. In fact, the kill scenes are so good that I wanted to see more of it. A lot of the kills effectiveness come from NOT showing you the gore. There's plenty gore as well, but the balance of times when you have to imagine what's happening as people scream is also dope.

The horror part to the film is kinda slowed down though by the social commentary. part to the film: The 1992 film has this as well, but it's more subtle, and flows with the story better. This... well, I can see why some hyper-sensitive conservatives might cry "wokeism!" I disagree with their sentiment, but I get it. If this movie had come out before 2020, perhaps the feeling would be different. There's a scene that's directly addressing gentrification. It's a group of four people (three black people and a white dude) talking. The movie shows how the seemingly enlightened and likable white dude was involved in the convo, but still didn't really get it. Perhaps that's how they see a lot of their audience with this, cuz there's no subtlety going on here at all. It's more of an "F U" at times. It's effective hate-watching though.

Lastly there's the psychological part to the movie. Something has clearly gone wrong inside of Anthony, and no one seems to be taking it all that seriously.

Something is also wrong outside of Anthony as well.... as seen in the trailer, he gets stung by a bee. One of those Candyman Bees! (Not a thing, but it should be) It's... maybe... infected (they never really explain), and gets worse and worse. Why doesn't anyone demand that he go to the doctor?! Not even his suga mama says anything! You know damn well, that no matter how sexy one may be, if you've got some sort of creepy Candyman infection, that's gonna mess up that sexy-suga-money flow, y'all feel me?? And if there is some sort of ghostly infection, shouldn't we be more scared of the bees than even Candyman? He only appears when you say his name! The bees on the other hand...

I guess it's kinda real though - I could certainly see people these days getting "the candyman infection" I speak of, and saying proudly "It's not real! And I will NOT be treated!" while waving a flag, with their clearly infected hand.

These three parts collide, sloppily. It's funny, cuz the film, as I said, is heavy-handed with hot topics, but the story (particular in the third act) will confuse you. I mean, I get it, cuz I saw the original film, but had I not... ??? There's a scene when Candyman is summoned and he proceeds to kill a bunch of cops. THEY didn't even summon him! They said “Defund the Police” not kill’em!  Idk if Candyman had been listening to nothing but Louis Farrakhan and Marvel’s Kilmonger nonstop during 2020, and it's all spilling over or what?? Some people are overachievers. Then he says "Spread my message" What message is that?!

Imagine if you say my name 5 times, and I appear in your kitchen, drink all of your beer, walking into your living room, and pee in the corner... then I say to you, before disappearing "Spread my Message".

You'd be like "What the hell?"

Despite this movies' flaws, I still enjoyed it. The social commentary really is important to the times we're living in, and should still be discussed, and not just discussed, by acted on. Plus, I truly am impressed by director Nia DaCosta. I do recommend that you see it, but you should probably watch the 1992 one first. Or who knows what message you'll leave with :)

Grade: generous B-

I doubt that there'll be a sequel, but if there is one, i really do hope that we can finally get to the bottom of this name thing. With Candyman, I'm still thinking drug dealer. It's not that scary of a name. Maybe CandyHOOK! Hooks wielded by maniacs are always scary.

No? Yeah, it does make me think his hook is made out of candy.

With the bees involved, perhaps "Bee Guy", or "Bee King", but... they're not really his thing. Plus, that's lame, and kinda sounds like he's buddies with Ant-Man. That could hurt his street cred. The 1992 film gets into a honey type of scenario as to the etymology. But, then, it should be "Honey Man", right? - that sounds kinda like a gigolo though. But, perhaps this is a good thing! That gives me an idea that could add some surprise to this whole name game thang! Call his name 5 times and either receive drugs, murder, a confusing sermon, or sweet, sweet lovin. Now, that's a game!

[pfreadsandwrites]

congratulations on 100+ followers!!🥺❤️✨ bless you and your quality content ahhhh and thats a really good list of prompts there i actually had trouble picking one... but, since im truly a sucker for angst at heart, can i please have a number 15 with Kakashi?👀 please hurt me lmao thank you, and congrats once again!❤️

100 follower celebration

Yes, i used this mangacap. 

Anyway, ahh @enchantedpendant, I’m so sorry I’ve kept you waiting so long for this! I know you expressed excitement over me writing something angsty way back when I first began the celebration event and ugh I’m just sorry it’s taken so long. And thank you for your support as well. You’ve been so amazing and encouraging right from the start and I’m so grateful :) I really hope you like this... if ‘like’ is the correct word.

Oh - also, to the anon that also requested this exact prompt (great minds think alike, huh?) I’m planning on writing a different version for you! But yours is the penultimate or last one so I’m hoping this’ll tide you over in the meantime! 

This is my first piece after being unable to write for a while - forgive me if it’s rusty. I worked hard on this but I also struggled to all hell with it. It’s a circular-ish/montage-y piece. And I could have made it short, focusing on the scene itself, but I wanted this to have an emotional impact, ya know? I hope it worked! Please let me know what you think. Or if there are any mistakes.

warnings: character death, angst, miscarriage, sad feels all around, female reader, mild violence and sex mentions but nothing explicit, 2.9k

taglist: @madaras-housewife @datblobbyfish @praisingkuroosbedhead @allthingskakashi @enchantedpendant @ibukiirisha @cinam00n @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @tachibrii @drunkenfists

15. “Don’t die on me - please.”

Why did it always feel too soon, each time he let you go?

You remember it, the first time it happened. 

How could you not? Little, insignificant, as it might have been to some - to him, if he could convince himself - to you, it was momentous. Lasting only a second, where his calloused fingers had brushed against yours, softer than his, yes, but no less enduring. The normally aloof eye, the only one he seemed to show without hesitation, was intent, the obsidian endless in its depth. 

But - out of courtesy to him, or some kind of self-preservation - you’d paid it no mind. Or kept up that pretence, anyway. You found your footing as quickly as you’d lost it, stumbling away from his support no matter how reluctant you were to do so. The gratitude you’d muttered was enough and it seemed like you’d made the right choice; when that quietly shrewd eye of his turned away from you and his strong hands let you go in the same movement. He never let you bask in your own clumsiness, but that somehow made you feel worse. His nonchalance was excruciating. As if he hadn’t just saved you and made it look effortless. As if his touch alone hadn’t frozen you in place. 

As if it never happened at all. 

(It never should have happened at all.)

But still, you remember it. The moon’s luminosity the perfect backdrop, illuminating that wild silver hair as he turned away from you. 

(It was all so disgustingly poetic.)

It took longer than it should have for you to turn away in kind. But you did. Eventually. You made the awkward trek back to camp before him, the internal rambling of your self-berating your only company. It grew louder each time you looked back, stealing little glances against your own will.

It was so loud that you didn’t notice much else.

Not even Kakashi stealing glances back at you, for instance. 

***

Why did your breath hitch,  even when the air had never been more tranquil?

You remember. 

How he always did that, you still don’t know. Perfect timing, though you never appreciated just how perfect until he was gone again. 

(You should have learnt to count your blessings.)

Without a trace, and so quickly, unceremoniously, that the entire encounter might well have been a mirage. It still might have been.

(Maybe it’d been better that way.)

 You’d had enough. You didn’t think it through much further, and your desperation triumphed over your cautiousness as you sought out the bar exit. The mission, against all odds, was a success. And, against all better judgement, you were dragged along to the accompanying celebration. The atmosphere should have been infectious, you should have smiled more, you should have enjoyed yourself. 

Then again, you couldn’t find much to celebrate. Mistakes - your mistakes - had piled up. Your team completed the mission despite you, not because of you. The liability, not the heroine. 

(In hindsight, would it really have been so terrible if things ended for you there?)

You’d exhaled dramatically as you made your escape, a feeble attempt to expel all the guilt and shame you’d retained, or tried to retain, up until now. 

You still remember the lilt of his voice, smooth and somehow jovial, but never losing that gravelly undertone, as you walked around the corner. How could you ever forget it? No matter how lax he sounded, or tried to sound, the severity lurking underneath always cut you deep.

Are you alright, he’d asked, already knowing the answer. With that signature one-eyed smile, he pretended to believe your response. And you pretended, in turn, that his smile didn’t have had the effect on you it did. 

You didn’t exchange that many words as he walked you home, but somehow, it was enough. Though he was always careful with what he revealed, it was enough. He understood - much more than he let on, you suspected - but it was enough.

You didn’t hate yourself quite as much anymore, and - well, it wasn’t too much of a stretch - it didn’t seem like he hated you either. Something in the way his hand squeezed your shoulder, lingering for a moment, just before he saw you off. Was he reluctant to let go? 

Maybe. 

You slept better that night. 

You’d find out later, that, miraculously, Kakashi did too. 

***

Why did you feel so secure, sharing in all that suffering?

You remember.

(Why had you been so stupid?)

You’d almost dropped your flowers, when you saw him standing there, facing the memorial stone. It shouldn’t have been shocking; you’d heard gossip, in passing, about how much time he spent here. You’d also heard, in passing, how late he tended to be. Putting two and two together, you never held the latter against him. 

You understood, after all. You'd understood all the more as your eyes bore into his back. Something in the way he curled and uncurled his fists, the way he sighed, the way his straightened back gradually hunched. 

As far back as you could recall, your attitude to graveyards was… ambivalent. You’d avoid them whenever you could, not out of any tendency to be spooked or anything like that. You just couldn’t bring yourself to leave. It was peaceful, to be immersed somewhere so solemn, with such dense air - but the gravity of it also chained your feet there like an anchor. You knew each time you were there, regardless of your own volition, wouldn’t be the last. So if anyone were to empathise with this particular way he chose to punish himself, it was you.

(And now you would take it on twofold in his stead. What a joke.) 

“You don’t often come here,” he’d said quietly, matter-of-factly. Devoid of judgement, though he didn’t bother to face you. 

“No. I probably don’t spend as much time here as I should…,” your voice trailed off, and found new confidence, when you watched him stare at that stone. Hopelessly. You didn’t know all the details. But you didn’t need to. All you knew that it was simultaneously frustrating and pitiful. “And you probably spend too much.”

This time, he glanced back over his shoulder. You couldn’t exactly see through his mask, but he seemed… amused? “How do you figure that?”

“Call it a hunch.”

He chuckled, satisfied, and stepped back to give you room. “Then, I guess we balance each other out.”

“What a pair we are.” 

“Right. Well, I better-“

You still don’t know why you decided to grab his wrist that day, when he turned to leave. You still don’t know why you couldn’t bring yourself to let go, either. 

You still don’t know why Kakashi decided to stay. 

***

Why did you flit so rapidly from anger to elation, and why was it always because of him?

You remember.

In hindsight, it had been your fault. 

(What the fuck else was new?)

Retreat. Get out of here. It had been a simple order. But it had felt impossible, when the enemy appeared from behind, jutsu blaring, its raw power visible, that disgusting snarl on its wielders’ face - aiming for him.

You didn't think. You couldn’t think. You leapt in front of the attack within seconds, and your plan ended there. 

The same couldn’t be said for your captain. With his signature finesse, with a rare scowl - you couldn't tell who it was aimed at - you were moved away, and the enemy deflected, in the same movement. 

The battle had come to an end shortly after, through no fault of your own. It took all you had, but you bit your tongue as he scolded you, in front of your comrades, quietly healing your wound. 

You had acted for his sake. 

(How futile.)

Apparently, that meant nothing to him, not even worthy of acknowledgement. It wasn’t like you had expected gratitude - but for a man known for his stoicism to blow up, and because of you - it made you livid in turn. 

The journey back had been silent, seemingly just so you could bask in your own shame. 

So, when you were back in the sanctuary of your home, nursing your injury, your failure, and your pride - you hadn’t expected to hear a knock.

Nor had you expected him. Headband missing, brow furrowed and glaring at you in that way you couldn’t understand, much less accept. You’d made a mistake - of disobeying orders, of recklessness, of caring - but why the hell did he care in turn? 

“What?” You had hissed, unable to contain the outrage of his interruption of your little haven. Not that it made it any easier to look at him. “You’re here to admonish me again?”

“What the hell was that?” He growled in turn. “You disobeyed my orders and almost got yourself killed.”

“I-,” your voice shook, tears pricked your eyes - he was right, even if it pained you to admit it, but it wasn’t fair. The space between you had shrunk. He was so close now that you saw the rise and fall of his broad chest beneath his vest - apparently just as outraged as you. You had never seen him like this before. “Why are you so mad at me? I was just trying to - I thought-”

“Am I supposed to factor in every one of your impulses? Why did you do that?”

You remember how you heard his heartbeat, pounding - pounding just as loud as yours was. And it depleted your inhibitions. “Because - because you were in danger, you asshole!”

You remember how he had gently grabbed your injured wrist, just as you were about to shove him. You’d anticipated his reflexes, but you couldn’t have anticipated his expression, when you finally met his gaze. You remember how swiftly he’d pulled down his mask, but you couldn’t have anticipated just how breathtaking he’d be, either. Nor how it could feel when he kissed you - finally.

When Kakashi moved to pull away, of course, of course, you moved to pull him right back. 

 ***

Why did you always let him leave?

You remember.

(If you knew how it would end, you never would have let him. Better still, maybe you never should have let him enter in the first place.)

Safe.

You’d never felt so safe. 

When he’d appear and reappear at your apartment - the window, never the door, despite your half-hearted protests - waving with that stupid, adorable, one-eyed smile. He knew you’d saunter over, sliding it open with a matching grin, every time without fail. 

(You always did. That much, you did.)

When he’d laugh, when you told him about your mishaps. You’d laugh at his in kind - though it didn’t suit you, and you replaced it with your usual sympathetic ear. When you’d accompany him to the memorial stone, and pull him way just at the right time. When he’d pull you away, too. 

(What a fool.)

When he’d unmask himself around you, and you pretended not to notice, like it didn’t floor you. When you watched him struggle to decide whether he was relieved or offended. When he kissed you, in that indescribable way that wavered between tentative and determined, soft and powerful, usually choosing the perfect time to flit to the latter, making your knees buckle in the process.

(What a fool.)

When he’d undress you, and no matter how desperate he’d seem, how he always paused to take you in. When he’d move in you, filling your heart and body so much that you thought you might burst. When he’d hold you just that little bit closer, tighter, longer every time.

(What a fool.)

Even when he’d leave, sometimes after you’d fallen asleep, sometimes before - sometimes in the morning - when he’d leave for a day, a week, a month - you felt safe.

Because you knew, in the deep recesses of your heart, that each time you saw him wouldn’t be the last.

(What a fucking fool.)

You remember the first time he said it. Quietly, earnestly, unceremoniously. 

“I love you,” Kakashi had murmured into your ear one night, when he was so, so sure you were sleeping. 

***

Why did you ever dare think you had any cause for optimism?

You remember.

The two lines, glaring upwards and through you, from that unremarkable little piece of plastic. They’d ran parallel - you thought it apt, just like your trepidation and your excitement. The lines would never meet, though. 

(How apt.) 

You’d been happy. That was what had shocked you most, save only for the very fact of you being in this situation in the first place. But behind the fear, there it was. A little glow, a nucleus of hope and future nascent deep in your centre, spread through your heart and speckled to your fingertips, your face, your smile - that paired flawlessly with the little bundle of meaning, the combination of you and him budding in your belly. 

(Buds drop off before blooming all the time.)

You thought it’d be easy. 

(How stupid.)

You thought you could share it all with him right away. 

(You wished.)

But there was a part of you that faltered, when he’d show up at your window in that deceptively lax way. The words stuck in your throat, whenever he asked you if you were alright. The ease of his question didn’t match the weight of the truth. It almost felt… cruel. 

Maybe his fears would eclipse yours, and all that euphoria you’d harboured would dissolve. Maybe he’d be angry, though you suspected that even if he were, it’d be short lived. Maybe you’d end up keeping him from his duty. 

(Maybe you were just a coward.)

Regardless, your hands would float to your stomach whenever they weren’t occupied. Regardless, your mind would conjure up a future, remiss of your own will, an idyllic scene of a child, a marriage, something so sickly sentimental that you wanted to scold yourself. Regardless, it gave you hope.

It was enough, you’d decided. You'd get over it, face him and your fears, because what was waiting on the other side was so good that you’d forget that you had any in the first place. You’d do it. 

You’d tell Kakashi the next time you saw him. 

***

Why did it always feel too soon, each time he let you go?

You remember it, the last time it happens.

How could you not? The moon’s luminosity the perfect backdrop, incandescent, illuminating that wild silver hair, that crimson eye, that tired eye. His blood gleams under its splendour, under the green light that emanates fruitlessly from your delicate, shaking fingers. Softer than his, but no less enduring. 

It’s all so disgustingly poetic.

He refuses to scream, or shout - just whisper your name, in that restrained, ever-abiding tone. It’s never made you want to scream out more in his turn. You would have done anything to absorb it all in its stead. 

“What are you doing here?” he demands, as if he has the energy to. As if you can answer. As if you don’t see the wounds, the bloodshot-eyes, that compliance of his own mortality. His hand - the one that you were stupid enough to trust in, to think was strong - clenches around yours, calloused, then weakens, loosening its grip. He follows it with another impossible, familiar order. “Get out of here.”

“Shut up. Don’t die on me - please,” you beg, coughing up your words in between the sobs that spill forth, onto his face. The ache, the deep, sharp cramp in your hips, the agonising spark that spreads throughout your lower body, and you repeat your futile mantra two-fold.  

(It hurts. It hurts so much.)

“Y/N, I- I’m sorry,” he begins, moving to use his dwindling force to brush away your healing fingers, “it’s too late for that. Just get somewhere safe. Please.” 

“Shut up,” you repeat. You gasp hoarsely, reinforcing your grip. The pain deepens, in the pit of your throat, your heart, and in your womb, amalgamating together inextricably in some hellish concoction just for you and you alone. “Shut up.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. His eyes lid, and suddenly that scar never seems so cutting. It’s all so obvious. He just looks so tired, so… resigned. As if he’s been waiting for this. “I love you.”

“I love you too. So you can’t-”

“It’s over. You know it as well as I do.” 

Somewhere, somewhere deep down, you always knew. You knew, but never wanted to admit it. He’d made his peace with dying, long before you ever met, and you can’t hold him back any longer. It almost feels… cruel. 

(Not as cruel as him.)

His hand drops, dropping with a graceless thud against your damp thigh. “Y-you’re covered in blood. That’s all mine…?”

“Yes,” you lie, voice as thick as the mixture of blood and tears that stain both you and him. “Don’t worry about me.”

He stops - and you almost think he’s going to call you out, like he’s done so many times before. 

(You wish he would.)

You’ve never been able to dupe him. But instead, his eyes crinkle at the corners.

(You love him. You love him so much.)

He smiles that hidden smile, one last time. 

His fingers that fight with yours give up, one last time.

He whispers your name, one last time. 

Why did it always feel too soon, each time Kakashi let you go?

[doux-amer]

Okay, so I no longer have the energy to discuss Marvel stuff at length, but I enjoyed Black Widow, to my surprise. I went in with low expectations, but it ended up being solid. Was it a groundbreaking movie? No. But I’d rank it as one of the best MCU films and it felt like a nice change of pace from your standard MCU fare. The film avoided prioritizing action over character arcs and didn't interrupt the story with unnecessary and often distracting humor.  It's become increasingly obvious over recent years just how much the MCU has started to suffer from what made it unique and innovative in the first place—an interconnected cinematic universe. Everything feels like it's a stepping stone to some big event (hah, in that way, it's emulating the comics well), with characters's stories hastily and sloppily pushed aside for The Main Team Event TM. 

And that's why Black Widow worked. It didn't have world-ending stakes. It wasn't about one Big Bad (the big bad in this story, much like in CA:TWS, is the system which is why the "main boss" didn't have to be impressive and intimidating on his own). The story felt quiet and contemplative in between the action scenes. It was very intimate and the story benefited tremendously from that. What happened in this movie was something that would mean very little to anyone other than the people directly involved and would go unnoticed. 

This isn't something that the whole world will know about and praise her for, and no one treats it as such, both in terms of the characters and the people behind the film. With the exception of a few lines and moments, this film isn't cringeworthy, in-your-face, and ultimately shallow GIRL POWER GIRLBOSS OMG FEMINISM which Captain Marvel and Wonder Woman (and that one stupid as hell scene in IW) both leaned into and imo, were either hindered by or even suffered from. This story is very much one about the patriarchy, misogyny, agency, etc., but it tries to see what the personal ramifications are and how sickening and even banal it all is. It’s about how the world works and treats women, no matter who they are. It’s about how Dreykov, for all his power, is a dime a dozen. The world made it possible for men like Dreykov to exist and do harm. The world goes on without him there, and in the wake of his death and the destruction of the Red Room, his victims still have to deal with all the pain and figure out what they want to do, how they want to do it, and who they want to be afterwards.

Obviously, we also got to see more of Natasha and who she is, what makes her tick, and how her past formed the person she is now. And yes, I dislike Scarjo so I was ready to not care about the movie, but god, I love Natasha and miss her so badly. I ended up unexpectedly crying when the film started and didn't stop until the opening credits ended, not even because something was sad but because that was Natasha! When kid Natasha whipped out her gun and shielded Yelena, I recognized both that skill and heart instantly and it hit me hard. You got that repeatedly throughout the film, and it knits together all the little pieces of Natasha we got throughout the decade. It gives her consistency and strengthens what we already know drives her: her desire to atone and protect and her yearning for a family.

The supporting cast was good too. You could tell they had fun and you could tell they had the acting chops. I get very leery of actors who go over the top in the MCU because almost all the time, it ends up backfiring and undermining their character, but David Harbour had a lot of fun with Alexei and it never bothered me. And I think that's because, behind all of the bombast, there was real emotion behind it that he took seriously and the others did as well. Rachel Weisz...I mean, I don't think I need to say anything more. You expect her to be good and of course she was. And Florence? Yes, this might not be 616 Yelena in many, many ways and I can see how that's upsetting to people (this applies to the Taskmaster as well), but if you see MCU Yelena as her own person, man. Florence overshadows Scarjo which, well, isn't surprising considering her brilliance, but I will say, though, that part of it is because Yelena is a much more energetic character whereas Natasha is more introverted and even a little awkward and shy at times. 

I loved the relationships and they all felt real to me. When they said they were a family? I believed them. When you saw them grapple with what they'd done in the past and what they did to each other and to other people? That felt real too. 

And the action scenes! Wow, did I miss actually good fight choreography after three horrible shows full of goofy af fight scenes that had bad choreography and were terribly shot (the less we talk about Loki, the better, though TFATWS, which probably should have had the slickest shots had by far the worst cinematography). The fights were engaging and you really sensed the urgency and danger in every fight. I felt like Natasha was in danger, that she would get hurt. The hits HURT and you could tell how painful that walloping was (with the exception of the ridiculous scene where Dreykov punched her repeatedly in the face and there was no sign of impact). Everyone felt very human and very easy to break. 

The flow was great and maybe it was slow for some people, but I liked that. I liked that the story took its time to unfold. I liked that you didn't sense any impatience or panic. Everything happened in its own time, but it never dragged for me. There was a great balance between emotional, quiet moments and bursts of action, and neither felt like they undermined the other, a frequent issue I have with MCU works (yet again, one of the best examples and most recent ones is Loki; I hated the fight sequences because they felt so unnecessary and they truly disrupted the flow of things).

Were there things that I wish we got more of or thought could have been tightened up better? Yeah. I wish we got to see more of the Widows, for one thing. I also think it would have been interesting for Natasha to mull over the brainwashing she had versus what Yelena went through; what Yelena went through was much worse and similar to what Bucky went through, but Yelena has the excuse of being a victim with little to no free will whereas Natasha? She was psychologically messed with, but she wasn't being mind controlled. It would've been interesting to see that explored more in depth. I wish we got to see more of the Taskmaster. Etc. etc.

More than anything, though, what left me sad and disappointed after my initial joy and feeling of enjoyment dissipated, was the fact that this came too late. This is a movie that should have come right after CW, and we should have gotten a Black Widow movie right after the Avengers and before TWS or at least after TWS. This is, by far, the most unanimous take and it makes me wonder how everyone at Marvel feels about that, that this is, more than anything, the opinion that's being echoed consistently amongst reviewers and moviegoers alike. And it will never ever ever ever ever fail to piss me off that Markus, McFeely, and the Russos didn't know the Black Widow movie was going to even happen and they ended up offing her. That's a massive decision and I don't know, MAYBE you should have had some more communication! Maybe if that happened, Natasha wouldn't have been fridged (she shouldn't have been in the first place, and one of the things I deeply appreciated about this movie was that it pushed back on the wrongs that male directors and writers have done to her (e.g., Whedon's awful approach to her forced sterilization in AoU, the Russos and M&M saying Clint couldn't die because he had a family as if someone who isn't a parent is less important and less deserving to live and as if Natasha's relationships didn't matter)). Maybe we would have gotten more solo movies with her. We can still get more BW movies, sure, but Natasha herself deserved more. 

And that's why, despite thinking this is one of the best movies of the MCU even if the story itself isn't particularly sensational and not being blown away by it (again, I didn't think it was impressive, but I thought it was very solid), despite being pleasantly surprised by the fact that I enjoyed a MCU movie which is rare for me and walking away with barely anything to be disappointed about let alone upset about, despite thinking that this is the story Natasha deserved and being relieved and happy that this is what she got and this is how she's going to go out, I was still left sad for what could have been and what she deserved. 

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 41

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter

The air was crisp and buzzing with tension as you walked through the forest that was a part of the endless gardens surrounding the palace. No matter how far you ventured, the palace still rose behind your back, melted into the very core of the mountain piercing the clouds. 

The river shimmered somewhere to your right as you followed Loki through the thicket.

"You okay?" he asked again, casting you a glance over his shoulder. 

You just nodded, a little breathless after circling around the fallen trees and muddy holes. 

The reason behind Loki's concern was getting nearer with each step. Magic was sizzling in the air, filled with energy not unlike one of a storm front's lightning about to strike. You'd passed a few bird-like creatures on your way there, but they didn't dare come close to the Rift. Double sets of wigs took them away and into safer spots. A three-eyed doe disappeared among gnarled trees, shedding starlight as it skittled off. Even the plants, usually a feral mass of color, seemed all to have withered the closer you got to the Rift. The only things left were dried, greyish branches and rotten greens of mud slipping upwards over them. 

Loki stopped at the edge of a clearing and took your hand. Your breath came out in clouds against the icy cold that shouldn't have been possible on the Edge.

In the center of the clearing hovered a rip. It was a long, sharp wound that filled you with a sense of wrongness. The mud in the direct closeness to it rose as if sucked by phantom winds and entered the dark, narrow space where it sizzled and disappeared. There was nothing natural in the way it made your skin crawl, even despite the safe distance between you. 

You couldn't blame anyone in the palace for wanting to stop it from spreading. Even if it meant complicating your life. 

Loki must've sensed your tension. He ran a hand over your back in a soothing manner, as he often did to calm you down. 

"We're far enough from it to be safe from its influence," he said. 

"Are you sure it'll be enough to hide your magic?" 

"I think so. Opening a portal requires a lot of energy from Bifrost, but the Rift should help us hide the evidence." 

"If it opens at all," you reminded him.

"Indeed," Loki sighed, getting ready for the inevitable. 

Having been almost murdered by a huge spider put both of you in an uneasy situation. No matter how you looked at it, it became obvious that your little investigation was definitely going against someone's plans. 

It would be dangerous to try and point a finger at anyone without evidence. Everyone you'd met so far had a motive. Your only wonder was the ambassador's role in this tangled mess - was he working with someone, or trying to correct the balance on his own? The notes found in his study were quite clear about his interest in the value of life on the Edge. The bloodiest conflicts in its history led to centuries of peace and freedom from Rifts forming, but was such bloodshed even possible anymore, let alone worth it? Was the ambassador's death just a door to achieving it through a new war against Asgard? Or was it simply a suicide? 

Loki and you spent a large part of the morning looking over the few facts in your possession, feeling like you were piecing a puzzle together without ever seeing the original picture. They had to connect somehow, and make sense through the details, but no matter how you looked at them, you still missed something vital. 

Those were frustrating hours that only resulted in making your heads hurt from coming up with increasingly bizarre theories. It was a good thing then, that you never left the bed and could relax for a while. There were marks on your bodies left from the night, and it took you both a while to retrace them. It took you longer to add some new ones, in ways that still made your toes curl thinking about it. Unfortunately, as pleasant as it was, it couldn't last forever. 

Which was what led you to decide to change the course of action a little bit, and play by a different set of rules. Neither Loki nor you were allowed to leave the Edge, but who would be there to blame you for it if no one ever found out? There were interesting places in the universe to pay a little visit to. 

One of those places was Asgard, where Loki claimed to have hidden a handy little device he had frequently used to trace even the thinnest whispers of magic back to its original caster. It was a long shot, considering how long ago he set foot in his chambers, but unless they'd been completely trashed, his secret stash should still hold. 

There were a few ways of sneaking into Asgard without notice, but Loki had to admit none of them led from the Edge. 

That left you with only one choice. A choice that made Loki's skin crawl. 

"Stay here," he braced through his discomfort and offered you a tight-lipped smile. "I'll see what I can do."

You watched him walk a few steps away. Loki held his chin high and shoulders square as he faced the dome of the neverending night overhead. 

"Listen, Heimdall, I know it's been a while, but don't you dare pretend you haven't been lurking-..." 

You leaned on a nearby boulder, carved with some intricate, needle-thin patterns. There was no reason you could come up with carving some huge boulder and then leaving it in the middle of a forest, but it was a good place to let your legs rest for a moment anyway. 

Loki left his bottomless bag with you as he continued his one-sided conversation, working himself up the more words poured out of him. He wasn't the most detailed about his relation with the being operating Biforst and guarding Asgard's borders, but from the way Loki talked about him, it was clear they weren't friends. What Loki had to ask of him now was a risky favor he had little hope would succeed. 

He tried it anyway, humiliating as it might make him feel. 

You watched him. His conversation turned into a rather heated argument, as one sided as it was. 

You looked up at the clusters of stars and galaxies passing the immeasurable expanse of the universe. Rarely had you felt so small and irrelevant. 

"You know," you said quietly, "Loki's really trying. He's doing his best, despite how shitty it is here. It's unfair how everybody expects so much out of him, but don’t consider how overwhelmed he is with all that's expected of him. No wonder he tries to hide it. It's hard to live knowing you'll never be what people want you to become, and how they are willing to force and shape you into what they'd rather have. But he's trying. He really is, and even now, he just needs this thing from Asgard to let us have some evidence and finish this investigation before we get killed for trying. Loki's amazing and capable, but even he needs some help sometimes, and I think now is one of those times. I try to help him as much as I can, but it's not me he needs right now. Just… be kinder on him, okay? If you're truly listening, I mean."

You sighed, biting your lip. The wind picked up some rogue leaves and dust, and took them away from the unnatural blemish looming to your right. The Rift was suspended mid-air, as if air itself had been torn and whatever lurked underneath the surface of reality, waited for the moment when it got wide enough to pass through. 

The weather on the Edge was mild usually, but you couldn't help a shudder from running down your back. 

Loki cursed in a language you didn't know. 

"At least we tried," he shrugged. 

There was a tight smile on his face, but it couldn't hide his disappointment completely. He would think of another way out, though, he just needed some time. 

Just as you were taking his bag and began to walk toward him, light enveloped both of you, and a familiar, gut-wrenching feeling threatened to bring the contents of your stomach to daylight. 

There was surprise in Loki's eyes, and a thread of hope as he reached out to you and gathered you in his arms. Clinging to him would be much more pleasant if the atoms weren't ripped out of your bodies, but before you blinked, the Bifrost plucked you out. Where you'd been standing, only faintest scorch marks remained. The Rift buzzed, but there was nothing for it to feed on. 

Pressing your face into Loki's chest didn't look dignified, but it helped you get through the blinding rush of universe passing you by. Your heart hammered against your chest, but Loki's arms held steady around you until all finally stopped. 

Peeling yourself from him took a considerable amount of effort, but once you did, both your fear and nausea dissipated. As it had happened with the Edge, the first thing that hit you was the smell you could only describe as otherworldly. It wasn't strong, but it filled you with the certainty that you were the stranger in this place of blinding gold. 

Loki and you arrived in a circular room at the end of a bridge casting rainbow reflexes under the setting sun. It was a beautiful thing, but you could only spare it a single look before a figure stepped down from the dais in the center. 

The man clad in armor of gold didn't budge at your gawking. Loki might be tall, but even in his own armor, he didn't look so menacing. 

"Hello, Heimdall," Loki nodded calmly, even though his arm was still on your back. "Long time no see, or at least on my side." 

"Coming here was an unwise choice," the warrior's voice boomed in the small space. He sheathed the impossibly long sword with ease. 

Loki put an unnerving smirk on his face. "And yet you got me through." 

You could've sworn Heimdall's eyes rested on you for the briefest moment. 

"So I did," was all he said, though. 

That was not an answer Loki had expected. He was tense, as if readying himself to argue or fight, but there was nothing about Heimdall that would suggest the need for that. The great Gatekeeper just stood, and waited. 

"We won't stay long," you promised carefully, breaking the silence. 

Loki loved you for it. 

"I have to retrieve something for the mission so thoughtfully commissioned to me. " He kept his chin high, not yielding a step. 

Staying composed and calm was an uneasy task in front of Asgard's most vigilant guardian. Loki had changed since he was a mere child, but something from those days stayed with him in the way he had to crane his neck to look into Heimdall's face. The Asgardian didn't change at all, or so it seemed. He was still an unbreakable mountain, with golden eyes capable of seeing all and knowing all. 

"I won't linger any longer than necessary," Loki added into the silence. "I know I'm not welcome." 

Heimdall took in the young Prince, who had grown strong, despite how cruel life had been to him. Then he turned his all-seeing eyes to you, noting the defiance in your pose, and the tension on your face, as if you were ready to throw fists with him, had the bargaining not worked. And based on the firm grip Loki now had over your shoulder, the Prince was aware of that. 

There was a hint of a smile on Heimdall's face, but it was obscured by the golden helmet and the shadows lurking beneath it. 

"Then go, and be quick about it." 

You cheered and quickly moved to the bridge, but Loki lingered, just a while longer. 

"Why?" he asked, the frown not fully gone from his brows. 

The Gatekeeper moved back to the dais, rising in the center. 

"I serve Asgard, and Asgard I protect," he said. "If war is imminent, I shall spill my share of blood, but if there's a chance to stop it from ever happening, I shall take that chance." 

The Guardian stood tall on the dais, as he did for as long as Loki's memory went, overlooking the portal and all the worlds it opened to. Loki bowed curtly, even though Heimdall's back was to him. The golden armor flared in the rays of the setting sun, but never before had it looked so heavy. 

You waited for him at the bridge, and despite the towers of gold and glass piercing the clouds ahead, they were secondary in your eyes, following Loki's steps instead. 

There was something unwinding in him, as if only then it truly occurred to him where he came back to. He knew that bridge, and the palace shining brightly in the sun heading to rest beyond the shore, and the salty waves that would swallow it in a few hours. Until the very moment his feet hit the bridge, Loki wasn't even aware of the ache deep in his bones that had finally eased. 

He kissed your brow and cast a glamor over both of you. Heimdall might've been forgiving, but the guards stationed at the gates far up ahead likely weren't. 

"Let's go, love," he said, leading you by the hand. 

"Are you sure we won't be noticed? There's nowhere for us to hide on the bridge." 

The waves crashed underneath it, and seagulls screamed overhead as you walked. The glamour made both of you look almost translucent, or at least it did in your eyes. You had no idea if it would work against others, in a world where magic was a common thing. 

Loki pointed ahead, where the guards were stationed at the far end of the bridge. "They have sensors sensitive enough to mark any ounce of magic on travelers."

"Makes sense. What do we do?"

"We shed the glamour." 

You blinked. The seagulls overhead shared your confusion. "Wouldn't that make us visible, though?" 

Mischievous light filled his eyes. "Not if we slip on a secret little passage beneath the bridge beforehand, and only there recall all the magic around us. We wouldn't want to alert anyone, would we?" 

"Oh dear, sounds like someone was a naughty little kid," you laughed. 

"And look at what's become of me. It's a wonder I hadn’t been banished centuries ago." 

"They are idiots for doing that now." 

The sheer conviction in your voice made Loki imagine Odin hearing that from you. You wouldn't balk or juggle around, that he was sure of. And would pay to see that, even if it earned him a few more centuries of banishment. 

The guards were closer now. Loki looked around for the tiny mark on the carved railing he made long ago. 

"Do you trust me?" he whispered in your ear, approaching the railing. The shore was close enough to see the waves crashing down on the blackened rocks, but still not close enough to jump to it. 

You looked down at the foaming chaos of the sea crashing against the pillars and stone. "I mean, I wouldn't trust you with a car, but I literally traveled worlds with you, so I guess I do?" 

"That's fair," he said and jumped over the railing. 

Despite yourself, you rushed to it, half expecting to see his bloodied corpse sprawled over the jagged rocks. The wicked grin on his face told you enough. 

"You're an ass," you growled, quietly enough not to alert the guards posted nearby. 

"You love my ass, don't lie to yourself," Loki reached out to you, urging you down. 

Crawling over the railing wet from the sea mist was not the way you imagined this day to go, but the steady form of Loki waiting below made you a little less nervous as you let go of the cold metal and fell into his arms. 

"Welcome back," the smug bastard dared to smirk at you as he navigated the barely noticeable path over the rocks. 

You noticed the glamour disperse as you neared what would be the gates overhead. The width of the bridge hid you from the guards' eyes though. Loki skittered over the rocks, somehow finding just the right place to step on. 

Despite his grip on you, you couldn't help but wince every time the cold waves crashed beneath you, the mist spraying high. The path was winding and barely noticeable. Every leap between the rocks made you tighten your arms around Loki's shoulders. 

"I know you like to joke around," you managed to say with the heart in your throat, "but please don't fake-fall or something." 

"As you wish." 

The shore neared soon. Sand never felt so much like a blessing than when Loki finally put you down on the steady ground. The cliffs to your left hid you from the guards' outpost, but Loki didn't want to linger there any longer than necessary. The patrols rarely visited the narrow stretch of a beach, but it was not impossible. 

Loki knew every stone and thorny bush on this side of Asgard. He led you up the cliffs hanging high, through a path concealed so much it looked as only the wild prey might've ever used it. You stopped only for a moment, to look over to the sea and the evening reflexes in deep shades of orange and red playing over its surface. 

Loki waited for you a few feet ahead, with an expression you’d rarely seen on him. 

"We'll get in through the stables," he said when you almost reached the top. 

The glamour was back on you as you sprinted through the lush, green fields surrounding the plain in front of long barracks. People were rushing in and out, and no one noticed two additional sets of steps in the loose hay and sand as you snuck inside. 

Most of the boxes were closed already, horses and hunting dogs readied for the night. In one or two you passed by, you could've sworn you'd seen winged creatures, but there was no way of getting close enough to them with so many people around. 

Loki led you out of the stables through a courtyard, to a narrow pathway and up the steps carved in stone to a more pronounced building. The doors were open, but no guards stood the watch there. Coming closer, the smells betrayed the reason. Kitchens, even in another world, always seemed to be a place steaming with sweat, spilled food, and not enough hands to control every pot around. 

Bent low, you followed Loki below the long tables, yielding under the weight of all the dishes prepared. Feet stumped around in a rush, plates landed heavily on the counters, and the absolutely divine smells made your stomach grumble. Loki must've felt the same because his hand reached out for a few freshly baked pastries at the same time as yours, pocketing them with a knowing wink. 

You slipped out into a dim corridor, for the interior use of the kitchens and took the doors to a pantry full of meats and sacks of something stored by the walls. 

In the far corner, Loki moved old, rotting boards to the side and revealed a small, dusty corridor hidden behind them. 

"After you.” He bowed. 

You looked at the webs and thought of their owners. "I'd prefer to stay in the back, if you don't mind." 

He only laughed and broke the thick webs before crawling inside. 

It wasn't long, and soon opened to a winding staircase full of dust and only a few slits instead of windows somewhere ahead allowing the faintest shreds of light inside. 

"A long time ago, part of the kitchens was located upstairs," Loki explained when he sat down on one of the steps. "This was a shortcut used mostly by the kitchen boys who had to run around all day, but it hasn't been used for centuries. I used to hide here with whatever I managed to sneak out of the kitchens." 

"And it looks like you haven't changed much since then," you observed, as you both pulled the pastries from your pockets. Even in the narrow space with little to no fresh air, they still smelled absolutely delicious. 

There were crunching noises as you both devoured them in record time. You hadn’t even noticed how hungry you were until you took that first damned bite. Minutes later, only a few crumbs were left, scattered on the narrow steps below. 

You caught Loki looking at a few stains of old ink that surely none of the kitchen boys had left. 

"So many hours I had spent here, feeling like an outcast among my own family," he said, tracing them with fingers. "And here I am again, as mere outlaw, no closer to them than I ever was. Do you think I'm even capable of changing?" 

There was no sorrow in his voice, not really. Loki had enough time to dwell over the same question over and over again that it no longer bore its initial weight. He was no closer to finding the answer, but at least it no longer hurt. 

Loki didn't budge as you slipped into his lap. He only turned to look at you when your hands cupped his face. 

"You are here, because you made a conscious decision to do everything in your might to prevent that pointless bloodshed and war from happening. You could have ran - look how easy it would be to just sneak out and hide in some remote location far from responsibility. Still, you chose to stay and do your best, and even if that doesn't answer your question directly, I think it's something worth keeping in mind."

Loki didn't answer. The dust in the air turned into gold as it hit the narrow rays of the setting sun. His eyes were closed as he pulled you into a slow, contemplative kiss. 

He had countless memories of the hours spent on that staircase. There were books he had all but devoured, and pages he had reread until he'd had them memorized. There were tiny spells he practiced where nothing would burn or get destroyed by untrained fingers. There were cookies and cakes and sometimes even some wine hidden from all eyes. 

And there was you, in this place of cold stone and times long since gone. Tasting you, Loki was reminded that no matter what the past had brought, the future was still a mystery worthy of waiting for. 

"Thank you," he muttered breathlessly into your lips. 

[princess-geek]

Love Lesson

This fic is dedicated to my guardian angel @storyofmychoices. Besides she's a wonderful a writer, she's an incredible human being whose kind and light are endless. I never could thank her enough for what she has been doing for me.

Dear Dani, I know you usually don't read Hunt's fics written by other authors, but I hope you accept this one.

I hope you enjoyed it 😊💕

Choices Book: Red Carpet Diaries (a couple of years after Book 3)

Characters: Thomas Hunt, Miss Taylor (@storyofmychoices ), mentions to Jessica Massena (my RDC MC) and Matt Rodriguez.

Words: 1748

Warnings: none

Notes: English is not my first language. Please, excuse me any typos /or grammatical errors.   

Special thanks to @alj4890 for be by beta reader.

Jessica Massena exclusive pregnancy photos -  The most handsome Hollywood parents to be talk about the challenges of parenthood.

Thomas sighed and poured some more of the expensive scotch in the glass. He has no idea why he was wasting his time reading garbage press. He'll be the baby's godfather. He knew every detail about the issue. All the sacrifices she did to conceive...how the first months of nausea got her down. But now, she was radiant...healthy...happy...with Matt. 

She had woken up his senses and melted his heart unlike any other woman in years. He never actually had confessed his feelings because it was clear like crystal whom her heart belonged to.  For a while, it drove him crazy. Nowadays, he had made peace with his feelings and he came back to his old self. He also recognized that it was nothing more than a crush, a fever of an almost middle-aged man caused by her infectious joy.  Jessica Massena was a closed chapter in his life.

He abandoned the magazine and refocused on his research. A tragic death of a beloved teacher in a shooting at a high school inspired him to approach the question of USA public schools’ problems. He had read tons of news and academic papers about it, but they were too theoretical. He needed to breath that air, step on those dirty floors, hear the sounds. So, he decided to visit some public schools in area.

Since he was invited to speak at a university conference in New York, Thomas decided to visit some schools there too.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Kids and teens. Many. Too many. It was a banal New York school. Perfect.

As he wandered through the corridors, he saw a girl crying, hidden in the corner of lockers. Thomas wanted to do something, but he didn't know what to do or even what to say to calm the girl down. He never had a good way with children.

While Thomas was still distressed in his dilemma, a brunette stopped her hurried march, stepped back, placed a giant coffee cup on the floor and knelt beside the girl.

She gently wiped the girl's tears away. Thomas couldn't hear clearly what they were talking about, but he noticed that the girl calmed down as the woman spoke to her and stroked her hair.

“After class, I promise I'll go with you to talk to the principal. They can't do that and get away with it!”  the brunette promised hugging the girl tightly.

It was the last thing Thomas heard before the bell rings.

With confusion in the crowded corridors, Thomas lost sight of the girl and the brunette. 

The school board recommended him to visit Miss Taylor's class, classroom no.51. It took a while, but he finally found the classroom. Before knocking on the door, Thomas suddenly felt nervous, with a knot in his stomach.

‘In the name of art, Thomas, in the name of art …' he murmured before knocking.

The door opened. Many pairs of expectant eyes looked back at him with curiosity. When the door opened a little more, it revealed the brunette he had seen with the girl.

His eyes fixed on her sweet chestnut for a moment, and, no matter how cliché and cheesy this may be, his heart literally skipped a beat. Thomas felt an inexplicable warmth come to his face. Fortunately, the beard would camouflage his rosy cheeks. Whatever happened in those seconds, it didn't seem to affect the brunette who looked away.

“Is this Miss Taylor’s class?”

“Yes.”

“I have permission from school board to attend your class. I’m…”

“I know who you’re... please come in,” she smiled shyly, “I apologize for not having a seat for you ... the room is at its maximum capacity ... but if you want you can sit at my desk…”

“No way, Miss Taylor! Don’t worry about me. I am going to the back of the room. You won't even notice my presence. Thank you for having me.”

 She just nodded.

“Class, let me introduce you Mr. Hunt. He is a famous director…”

“We watched one of his movies a few weeks ago, didn't we, Miss Taylor?”

“Yes, we did…”

“Mr. Hunt, Miss Taylor is a huge a fan of you…she said she watched all your movies…”

Miss Taylor's cheeks changed to increasingly reddish tones.

“Kids let me finish, please…”

“Is it true that Jessica Massena blow you off?”

“Samantha don’t be nosy! I’m so sorry, Mr. Hunt…they’re well behaves kids. I'm sure this is the excitement speaking for them,”

“I'm not making anything up ... it's in all the magazines!” Samantha protested.

“Miss Taylor is single, and she already has a soft spot for you…You could ask her out!” another girl added.

“Children, you’re crossing the line ... one more inappropriate observation and you are grounded!”

“That’s okay, miss Taylor…they’re just kids.” Thomas said.

“Thank you for understanding, Mr. Hunt...As I was saying, Mr. Hunt will be here at school for some days and attend some classes for research proposals.”

“This is for a new movie?”

“Can we be part of it?”

The students were even more excited.

It took some time for them to calm down, but little by little, Miss Taylor, in a sweet and serene voice, managed to calm them down and refocus their attention on her.

After correcting homework, Miss Taylor started her Math lesson. The way she explained it was truly remarkable…inspiring. She put in those numbers the same passion he had seen in the greatest actresses.

She was very affectionate with the students. One of them was having troubles in understanding an exercise. Miss Taylor explained it once, twice, three times ... always calmly and patiently.

“Very good! I knew you could do this.” Miss Taylor encouraged the student.

Jessica Massena was a consuming fire, but the brunette teacher was warming his soul, a kind of heat that settles on the skin, on the bones and makes us feel good and at peace.

From time to time, when she thought he wasn’t looking, Miss Taylor threw him a discreet shy look. When their eyes locked, she blushed, adjusted her hair nervously and looked away.

Thomas found himself completely mesmerized. In fact, he felt like he was in one of those cheesy movies where the main character is completely lost gazing at the girl, there is a pop romantic ballad playing in the background and the sun shines brighter.

 He didn't notice time passing, delighted to hear and observe her. The bell woke him from the trance.

“Sorry again for the kids... and for and the indiscreet remarks.”

“No need to apologize. It's part of the children's charm ... at least that's what people say.”

“I hope you found our class useful for your research.”

“Yes...thank you for having me...”

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds. Whenever one looked, the other looked away.

“The pleasure was ours. If there is anything that kids or I can do for help...”

He barely heard her, captivated by her natural features. Her lips were two beautiful pink lines. Thomas had never thought of his life being enchanted by a nose, but Miss Taylor's nose was the cutest nose he had ever seen. The director was so distracted that he didn’t notice he was leaning against a desk, which, at some point, gave in to his weight, causing him to lose his balance.

She tried to grab his arm to hold him, but the force of gravity had no mercy and the director ended up falling on the floor dragging Miss Taylor with him who landed on top of him.

Just a couple of inches were separating their lips. “Kiss her!” a voiced shouted in a corner of his head, “Are you crazy, Thomas?” another inner voice replied, “You’ve only known her for a couple of hours ... What would she think of you?”

I must have hit my head very hard... his rational self thought.

“Oh Lord, I’m so sorry, Miss Taylor...Are you okay?”

“Yes...and you? I’m so sorry. I was trying help and my clumsiness got things worse like the usual…”

“No, it was all my fault, Miss Taylor.”

Her perfume. It was not like the expensive signature perfume the women who he usually crossed paths. Her hair smelled like honey and her perfume was soft with hints of flowers.

“Maybe we should get up?”

“Yes, of course, sorry.” Thomas babbled.

She got up first and held out her hand to help him. Thomas declined delicately. A gentleman must help the lady and not the other way around.

However, when he got up, he fell out of balance again, falling once more.

Miss Taylor smiled to avoid laughter.

“You can laugh. This is absolutely ridiculous,” Thomas said, allowing a smile to appear on his lips.

He rose from the ground with as much dignity as possible, shaking the dust and smoothing his blazer. Moved by the instinct of help, Miss Taylor helped him to clean up. At some moment, their fingers touched and grazed each other’s for some seconds. She blushed and took her hand from his arm.

“May I offer you to a coffee? I mean, offer a coffee to you…as an I’m sorry coffee,”

“You don’t have to do it, Mr. Hunt…”

“Just Thomas, please…and I insist…It’d be a pleasure for me.”

“I…I'd love it…”

“Great! Do you recommend any place special?”

“Wait , I can’t…I’m sorry, I promised to help a student after classes…she really needs me today…I’m sorry…”

“She…your students are lucky to have you.”

Miss Taylor blushed. “I’m not that special…I just love what I do…I think you can understand me on that point…You used to be a professor too...and, you know how it is...When we love our job, we don’t just do it...we breathe it.”

Yes, he could understand that. And he was understanding that this he was feeling was something he shouldn’t ignore.

“I’ll come back tomorrow to Mr. Somerset’s classroom. Maybe, after classes tomorrow?”

She smiled.

“Until tomorrow.”

Thomas gently grabbed her hand, taking it to his lips and planting a gentle kiss on it, “I’m counting the minutes. Have a lovely evening, Miss Taylor.”

He made his way out of the classroom, but not resisting to steal some glances of her along the way, which cost him a blow to the shin, courtesy of desk’s iron leg. When he threw a last glance at the doorway, she said:

“Danielle. My name is Danielle.”

[vrednic]

COLLATERAL DAMAGE (PT. 2)

Teen Wolf x Vampire Diaries AU

Prompt: Teen Wolf, but with a twist. Scott McCall has a twin sister… and she falls in love with Derek Hale.

Summary: After Scott refuses to join his pack, Peter Hale turns Serena McCall into a werewolf. Will her transformation be for better… or for worse?

Word Count: 3,285

Author’s Note: This series will skim the events of seasons 1-3. I have a lot of content planned, so there will be some skipping around at certain points, but it will all work in unison, I promise! I hope you all enjoy part 2! Please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading :)

*PART ONE IS HERE. *

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Werewolves.

The topic of lycanthropy was one I hadn’t visited since freshman year english. I thought back to the unit of Greek mythology, and how we had been assigned research projects on famous Greek myths. My english teacher gave us the liberty to choose our own myths, and I had naively chosen Lycaon of Arcadia. Lycaon, the king of Arcadia, attempted to trick Zeus into eating human flesh, testing to see if he was truly all-knowing. Angered by Lycaon’s blasphemous actions, Zeus punished Lycaon by turning him into a wolf.

Oh, the irony of it all.

For the past three weeks, I have been given gradual insight into the world of the supernatural. The full moon was fast-approaching, and I needed to learn everything I could as quickly as possible. I wasn’t yet sure how I felt about my transformation. I was amazed at how quickly I began noticing changes. Overnight, it seemed, my senses had been dialed up to a thousand. I was stronger, faster, and more confident. I could smell, hear, and sense things other people couldn’t. One of the most fascinating things about my newfound abilities was that my body’s healing process was nearly instantaneous. The only downside of it was that I had yet to experience the brutality of the full moon. I was afraid that I would see things differently after, that I’d realize that I’d never be able to control it. Would my supernatural powers really be worth being enslaved to an insatiable bloodlust every month? Would it be worth putting my friends and loved ones at risk, especially when one slip-up could mean death for any and all of them?

I had been training tirelessly with Scott every day since I was bitten. Before school, after school, and during free periods. He had effectively taught me how to make my claws appear and disappear at will, how to partially shift into my werewolf form, how to follow scents, how to decipher chemo-signals, and how to trigger the healing process of an injury using pain. I was impressed with my progress, but I knew that I had only been exposed to bits and pieces of the extensive supernatural spectrum that I was now a part of. I had always been good at the technical side of things, so I knew that learning the basics of lycanthropy wasn’t going to be an issue. I considered myself to be on the smart side-- I had no problem displaying resourcefulness or creativity or administering critical thinking in complex situations. One thing I wasn’t very good at, however, was regulating my emotions.

When our parents got divorced, Scott and I handled things very differently. He was always a mama’s boy, and I was a daddy’s girl. Our father was an alcoholic and a cheater; something I knew all too well, but was also something I wanted to remain oblivious to. I’m assuming this realization is what made it easier for Scott to hate him, to be okay with moving on without him. It was harder for me to cope with his absence because our dad had always been my rock -- my hero --  and I couldn’t picture him ever hurting anyone. Especially me.

The night my mom kicked my dad out of the house for good, he had come home drunk. He instigated an argument with her over something, as usual. But with them it was never just an argument; it always ended up with them screaming at each other. Scott and I shared a room back then, and it was located right by the staircase, which was where they happened to be arguing that night. Not surprisingly, their heated voices turned into shouts, and we were both awoken. We peered through a crack in the door as our parents fought. My dad could barely keep his balance; his cheeks were flushed, his eyes crazy, violent words spewing from his mouth fueled by intoxication. I remembered vividly how he had lost his composure and grabbed my mother by the neck, slamming her against the wall. I let out an audible gasp and stood frozen in horror. Scott flung the door open and rushed into the hall, immediately wedging himself between our mother and father. My dad grabbed Scott’s arm, attempting to pull him out of the way, but yanked my brother with too much force. He was flung against the railing of the staircase, and he tumbled down the stairs. He was unconscious at the bottom of the stairs for maybe 30 seconds, and when he came to, he didn’t remember a thing. My mother ushered us back into our room and put us into bed. I fell asleep crying that night, but I didn’t know exactly for whom I was crying. Had it been for my brother? Had it been for my mother? For the loss of my dad? Or was it for me?

I hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye to him. I woke up the following morning, expecting him to be there, bags in tow, waiting to talk to us one last time. But he was already gone. I knew he didn’t deserve it, but I couldn’t help but miss him. When the plea for divorce was initiated, there was never a discussion about shared custody or visitations. Once the divorce was finalized, I knew that he was never coming back. It was because of his betrayal and abandonment that I grew up with issues when it came to trusting people. I was filled with this deep, aching feeling of isolation, and it made me angry. Very. As I grew older, I got better at suppressing it, but I knew that somewhere deep down, it was still there. With the full moon prodding and poking at my resolve and self control, I knew it was only a matter of time before those feelings resurfaced.

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The day of my first full moon, I felt the effects as soon as I got out of bed in the morning. I felt my heartbeat rising with every breath that I took. When I got to school, my senses immediately began to feel overstimulated. Everything was brighter, louder, and more jarring. The sound of the bell ringing made me feel like someone was hammering nails into my skull. The people I passed in the hallway blurred together, all of their emotions and scents hitting me like a door to  the face. At lunch, the sound of people’s voices and laughter made me want to tear their heads off. I looked around the cafeteria, feeling myself grow angrier and angrier, for seemingly no reason at all. Rationally, I knew that these people had done nothing wrong. Emotionally, they were the piece of gum stuck under my shoe. My gaze locked on Jackson Whittemore, and I fantasized about how good it would feel to tear his tongue right out of his head. He had always been an asshole to my brother, so why shouldn’t I kill him? It would be extremely satisfying to watch the smug look on his face disappear as I stood over him, my hands drenched in his blood, as I began to tear him limb from limb…

“Uh, Serena? Are you okay?”

Scott’s voice brought me back to reality. I was suddenly overcome with anxiety as I realized the vile intrusive thoughts that I was just experiencing. What was the matter with me? This wasn’t me. I wasn’t a killer. Only, maybe that wasn’t exactly true anymore.

I nodded, fabricating a smile. “Yeah, no, everything’s great. I was just thinking about my research paper for… biology. It’s due tomorrow and I have no clue where to start.”

“That’s fair,” he said. “But remember that it’s perfectly okay for you to be feeling on edge today. It’s your first full moon and I promise nobody will blame you for not feeling or acting like yourself.”

I felt the tension in my shoulders ease ever-so-slightly. I nodded once more, reassuring him that I was in fact okay. I felt better knowing that out of all of the things that had changed, our sibling bond hadn’t. He’d be there with me to make me feel safe and to teach me control. Before long, I would be able to be just like him. I trusted him, and I knew he had faith in me. That meant only one thing: I had to have faith in me too.

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Later in the evening, as the sun was setting, I began feeling the effects of the full moon amplifying. My heartbeat was nearly erratic and Scott was nowhere to be found. I was in the bathroom, standing over the sink and looking at myself in the mirror. There was a flicker of golden yellow in my eyes, and I nearly sobbed out of pure anxiety alone. I balled my hands into fists, trying to focus on anything other than the impending sense of dread that I was experiencing. I felt a warm, slippery substance course down my wrist. Blood.

I opened my fist up, revealing four deep punctures on both of my palms, where my claws had dug into. The temporary flicker of pain was small, but enough to bring me out of the frenzy. I took this opportunity to set out to find Scott.

I didn’t remember the way to the Hale house all too well, but what I did remember was its scent. The smell of charred wood and smoke would be very hard to miss. I maneuvered my way through the darkness, making sure every step I took was careful and calculated. Scott had mentioned that Beacon Hills Preserve was littered with traps set by hunters. It was also a full moon, so I knew there would not be any shortage of hunters roaming around town tonight, hoping to catch and kill their next supernatural victim.

As if on cue, I heard voices from a distance. By the sound of it, there were maybe four or five of them, all men. I swallowed, trying to think of an escape plan. I couldn’t run. It was fall, and the weight of my body against the leaves on the ground would give my location away immediately. I could have hidden, but I knew that they probably had some sort of a thermographic camera. If they happened to get me in one of the shots, I would have considered myself dead.

I tried to weigh any and all other options, but I had none. The best chance at escape that I had right now was simply to run. They sounded far away enough so that even if they did hear me, my superhuman speed would give me an advantage. I decided that now was as good a time as any, and began moving. I tried to keep to the shadows, not daring to make any unnecessary sounds. I noticed too late that I had no idea where I was going. I looked around me, but I couldn’t pinpoint any familiar landmarks. I could have sworn that I was heading back in the direction I came, but judging by my surroundings, that wasn’t the case. I stopped for a moment, attempting to gather my thoughts.

“Come on, Serena,” I whispered to myself. “Think.”  

I was jolted away from my thoughts when I saw a red light from my peripheral vision. I was frozen, completely unsure what to do. More red lights emerged from the darkness, pointing straight at me. Lasers. It was then that instinct spoke to me, telling me to run. And that’s exactly what I did.

I turned on my heel and bolted away from where the hunters had been. I didn’t take the time to care about the tracks or the noise I left in my wake. I had the advantage of speed, but they had the advantage of knowledge and experience. These were professional killers. I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew what move I’d make next even before I did. Through the commotion, I almost forgot why I had been in the woods in the first place. The fury of the full moon hit me, unforgiving. It was as if she allowed me only a few moments of peace before the storm. I looked up at the sky and the moon glimmered at its peak. Almost instantaneously I was overcome with an animalistic urge to go back and rip the head off of every single hunter that was on my trail.

My claws and fangs appeared as if by magic, and my eyes were aglow. I felt angry-- so angry. But it was that anger that gave me power. I felt strong… unstoppable. Against all rational thought, I turned back around, using my infrared eyes to see through the darkness. A few rows of trees ahead was where I spotted them. Two of them were kneeled down, examining the tracks that I had left behind, judging the direction I must have taken. The other three were behind them, standing guard. They looked around, weapons drawn, ready to fire at any given moment.

I growled. It was a sound that conveyed equal parts rage and purpose. I was hiding behind a tree, looking for the perfect moment to attack. Just as I was about to launch myself in their direction, a pair of hands snagged me from behind with tremendous force. Before I could growl or scream, the person used one hand to cover my mouth and tucked me against his chest, making sure our bodies were still shielded by the tree. I tipped my head back to see who it was, and was met with the fiery gaze of Derek Hale.

He broke eye contact first and peered over my head, trying to come up with an escape tactic. His stone cold composure made it clear that it wasn’t his first time evading death by the hands of werewolf hunters. I, on the other hand, was terrified. I felt an equal amount of shame and embarrassment once I realized how foolish I had been. It was a night of the full moon and I wasn’t in control, for one. I also felt extremely stupid for walking into woods that were infested with hunters; ones that wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between my eyes. Another shame-inducing component was the fact that Derek just had to be the one to find me. I had gotten a brief description of him from Scott, so I knew that he was hardcore. He also hated liabilities, and at the moment, that’s exactly what I was.

“Now’s not the time to wallow in shame,” he whispered to me, his voice gruff. “If you hadn’t noticed, they’ve got us completely surrounded. It’s a miracle they haven’t seen us yet.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. “Don’t bother denying it. The smell of embarrassment is rolling off of you like a stench.”

Your commentary isn’t exactly helping, I wanted to say to him. But I knew better than to push his buttons, especially when we were on the brink of being discovered. I kept my back against the tree, waiting for further instructions. After a few minutes, Derek finally spoke again.

He lowered his mouth next to my ear, his warm breath sending a tingling sensation onto my neck and down my back. “On my signal, you run. I’ll stay behind and cause a distraction so you can get away.” He pointed behind him to another row of trees. “Run that way. Get out of the woods as fast as you can.”

Before I could get a word out, he was gone. He roared loudly, capturing the attention of the hunters that resided a few yards away. As they ran to him, he turned back to look at me, flashing his icy blue eyes. That was my cue. I took off running in the direction he had said. I heard the commotion of the fight almost the entire way. Growls and roars from Derek’s end were met with the sound of guns firing. I found myself secretly hoping that he would be okay, although in the back of my mind I knew he would be. He was Derek Hale, after all.

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I made it out of the preserve after only a handful of minutes of running. At the end of the treeline, right where the road started, a vehicle’s headlights cut through the darkness. The closer I got, the more details I could make out. It was a blue 1980 Jeep CJ5. Standing beside it were two silhouettes, both male. I let out a sigh of relief.

I jogged the rest of the way and launched myself into Scott’s arms. He squeezed me tightly and ushered me into the Jeep. Stiles drove onto the road, taking the route that led back to my house. Scott turned to look at me from the passenger’s seat.

“Why the hell were you in the woods?” He asked. His tone was firm but still held a touch of delicacy. We both knew it was more for my sake than his. “Didn’t I tell you about the hunters? The preserve is not a safe place for a werewolf on a night of a full moon. Argent and his hunters have memorized every square inch of those woods. You’re lucky Derek found you when he did. If he hadn’t, I’m sure Gerard would’ve turned you into a human kebab by now.”

I felt my throat tighten in frustration. “The imagery really isn’t necessary. I know what I did was stupid, and I’m sorry, but I didn’t know what else to do. I felt like I was losing control and you weren’t there, Scott!” My voice caught on his name, and I had to take a few moments to collect myself. “You weren’t there and, quite frankly, I have no one else to turn to on this. I don’t have a best friend like yours. I don’t have one that’ll pick up my call in the middle of the night and be willing to be a part of the world of the supernatural. I don’t have a best friend who’ll chain me up on a full moon and help me find restraint. I was all alone in my home, which I could have easily torn apart if I had lost control of myself tonight. I was counting on you to help me, and you weren’t there.”

The air was thick with tension. I could sense the sadness emanating from both Scott and Stiles. I felt guilty for taking all of my frustration out on my brother, but everything I said was true, and I wasn’t going to apologize for how I felt. Scott was a natural leader, and I admired that about him. Being a leader meant taking on responsibilities, and I understood that he wouldn’t be around all the time. Over the weeks following my transformation, I got a chance to see just how much people needed him.  Peter wanted him in his pack. Derek wanted him as an ally. Stiles wanted him as a best friend. Hell, even the lacrosse team needed him as team captain. But tonight was the one night that I needed him. I needed my brother, and he wasn’t there.

“I’m so sorry, Serena. I can do better, I promise. If you’ll just let me--” he began.  

“No,” I said, cutting him off. “I don’t want to talk. Just take me home.”

With that, I turned to face the window, looking at the blur of lights, cars, houses, and dark, desolate streets passing me by. Scott sighed, but he didn’t protest.

We rode in silence the entire way back.

TAGS

@broco8

[ragingbookdragon]

Under Enemy Fire PT. 2

A Shay Cormac x Reader Story

Word Count: 1,670 Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Death

Author’s Note: Hi...I have no excuse for not updating this :D. Enjoy! -Thorne

“Did you know she could fight, Master Haytham?” His eyes flit from the pages of the book to the man sitting across from him.

He inhaled, snapping the book shut with a crack that seemed to echo inside the carriage. “Surprisingly, Shay…no.” He paused, gaze shifting to the window. “But a great deal of things are now becoming clear about her that had been hidden before.”

“Like?”

“She’s been trained. From birth…much like I was when I was a child.”

Shay regarded him a moment. “Did your father teach you?”

Haytham nodded. “He did, as did other teachers when he died. I suspect Lady (Y/N) has had masters of all kinds train her.”

“Why keep it hidden?” Shay wondered aloud, arms crossing over his chest. “If she’s the only living child of one of ours, that means at some point she’ll have to take over for him. Why not go ahead and establish herself in the Order?” He looked to the templar across from him. “I think we can both agree that she’s strong enough to hold a high position in the order…higher than me.”

Haytham went silent a moment, then hinted, “Perhaps she’s been waiting for a more opportune moment to reveal herself.”

“And when would that be? When she’s found a suitable partner?” He frowned. “If that happens and she marries, she’ll lose the inheritance. She—” Shay shut his mouth, a look of amazement crossing his face as he remarked, “That must be the reason she’s refusing all the suitors. So that she can keep her inheritance.”

Haytham merely tipped his head to the side. “We’ll never know until we ask.” The hunter turned his eyes to the manor in the distance, settling back in his seat as they arrived.

The doors opened and as they climbed out, they were met by a stoic man. He turned, letting them pass before addressing, “Masters Kenway and Cormac, welcome to the (L/N) manor. I am Jameson, the family butler.” They nodded. “I regret to inform you that Lady (Y/N) has yet to return from her morning activities.”

Shay cocked an eyebrow, quipping, “And what are those? Balancing books on her head and needlework?”

The butler simply looked to the manor doors. “Swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat, in fact.”

The templar went silent as Haytham let out a rare snort before asking, “Shouldn’t she be practicing in the manor?”

Jameson hummed as they climbed the steps, and he opened the doors, letting them inside. “She was earlier, but then she went off into the woods for a bit of hunting.”

“What’s there to hunt?” Shay had taken to picking at the trays of food on the dining table, much to Haytham’s dismay.

“Other than the normal wild animals such as bobcats and deer, nothing special. She simply leaves and returns hours later with a few pelts.” The butler handed Shay a handkerchief, watching as the Irishman thanked him. “A few years ago, there were poachers on the lands. After multiple requests for them to leave, she gave them a final warning to leave the land or she would take matters into her own hands.”

Haytham arched an eyebrow. “I assume they didn’t take her seriously?”

Jameson nodded. “She came home that night covered in blood. We did not ask…and she did not say.” He cleared his throat, motioning to the table. “She requested you to stay in here if she had not returned in time. But I suspect she should be back soon.” The two nodded and he bowed his head. “Then I shall take my leave.”

He disappeared down a hallway, and Haytham reached over, whacking Shay’s arm. “Quit eating!” He hissed, glaring as Shay dodged another swing to shove one of the hors d'oeuvres into his mouth.

“Oi, it’s here for us! We might as well eat it!” The Grandmaster grunted, turning his eyes to the forest behind the manor; he could feel Shay lean close, gazing out the window as well. For a moment, neither spoke, then the hunter muttered, “Please don’t tell me we’re going to do what you’re thinking about.”

Haytham stood straight, making his way to the back door. “We are.” He opened the door. “Come along Shay, we’ve a huntress to collect.”

Shay groaned, but conceded, keeping in step as they made their way across the field. “This is going to take forever.”

“It certainly will if you keep blathering about it.”

“Well begging your pardon, sir, I didn’t expect to be tracking down a master huntress.”

Haytham tossed a look over his shoulder. “That’s your possible betrothed you’re speaking of.”

The hunter felt is cheeks warm and he grunted, stepping over a fallen tree branch. “It’s a little early to call us that. We just met a week ago.”

“And yet, you seem captivated by her already.”

“Speaking of betrothals, if her father is the one having her meet with members of the order…have you and her…you know…”

Haytham let out a sigh, reaching up to run a hand down his face. “Oh, for God’s sakes. That’s where you’re taking this conversation?”

Shay shot him a grin as he passed in front of him. “I was simply wondering if the two of you were set up for a possible marriage. What are you talking about, Master Haytham?”

The other templar shot him a pointed look. “It’s honestly surprising that you haven’t been shot yet.”

“Oi, I’ve got the scar on my shoulder blade to counter that.” He waved a hand. “Really though, were the two of you introduced at some point?”

Haytham hummed. “We were. That’s how she and I met a few years ago. I’m surprised I didn’t see through her façade back then.” A silence stretched between them and he glanced over, ribbing, “Don’t think about it too hard, Shay. Your brain might explode.”

Shay snorted and shook his head. “You seem to enjoy her presence…you definitely respect her. The two of you are from well-known and respectable families…why didn’t the two of you marry then?”

They stopped in the middle of a clearing, and Haytham said, “I do respect her. I can count on one hand how many women I genuinely enjoy being in the presence of and she is one of them. I asked her if she would want to marry, but she politely declined.”

“Any reason why?”

“I didn’t ask.”

Neither spoke and Shay looked into the forest, sighing, “We’re never going to find her. This forest spans hundreds of acres.” He met Haytham’s eyes. “She could be anywhere.”

Before he could respond, a voice sounded from above. “Giving up so soon?” The two templars reacted like startled deer, spinning on their heels to gape at the woman crouching atop the hunting platform. “I figured you would at least try and find me.”

Shay cocked an eyebrow. “How long have you been following us, Lady (Y/N)?”

She turned her head, nodding to the way they came. “I saw you come up the pathway…then I heard you enter the forest.” (Y/N) looked back at them before descending the platform, landing a few feet away; she stood, slinging the musket across her back as she made her way past them. “With all due respect, Master Shay, you are rather loud.” Haytham let out a chuckle as the hunter began to silently gripe. “I apologize for not being back before now. I made the mistake of leaving my pocket watch.” (Y/N) paused, looking at them. “I do hope you can excuse me for my tardiness.” They waved her concern off and she nodded, turning back towards the manor. “Not that I do not mind the visit, but I am curious as to why you are here. This does not feel like a friendly house call.”

At that, Haytham finally spoke up. “We came to speak to you about your position within the order.”

Though her steps faltered a bit, she was quick to hide it. “Even though I am not a templar?”

“You’re good at lying, Lady (Y/N), but you’re not flawless at it.”

(Y/N) spun on her heel holding a challenged spark in her eye. “I have seemingly fooled you and the rest of the order for a few years now.”

Haytham stood apart from her, steely gaze matching hers as he countered, “And now it is crystal clear that you were the one who helped to conquer the bases in Boston from the assassins a few years ago.”

She pursed her lips, then tipped her head in agreement. “That is a fair point, Master Haytham.” (Y/N) waved a hand. “So, what is my position within the Order? I cannot imagine many will be accepting of me taking up a spot.”

“Why do you say that?” Shay inquired.

She glanced at him. “Have you met half the men who are Templars? They are sexist pigs who would rather order a woman around than listen to one.” (Y/N) sent a withering glare to Haytham. “If you even think of putting me under any of the men from Boston, especially Hickey or Lee, I will put them six feet under.”

He narrowed his eyes with a rather amused fashion. “You truly hate Thomas and Charles, don’t you. Lady (Y/N)?”

“I despise them.” She corrected. “Hickey is crude and salacious, and Lee cannot seem to pull his head from where he has shoved it up his ass since becoming a Templar.” She let out a huff, then took a deep breath to calm herself. “They might be efficient at their jobs, but they sully the Order with their actions and behavior.”

“I think you’ll do fine where I’m going to position you.” Haytham said.

“And where will that be? Here in New York? My standing already dictates I oversee much of the business within the city, even Templar business.”

He smiled at her, though his eyes were holding a humored look. “Oh, have no fear, Lady (Y/N). I’m actually putting you on the Morrigan.”

She and Shay both had the same reaction. “WHAT?!”

[cywscross]

From @lightveils on Twitter (free to use wherever!). I’ve been meaning to do this for a while. I definitely have enough fics to fill it lol~

-0-

A Fic You Love Without Knowing The Source Material:

I was born for this by esama (Assassin’s Creed | Altair x Desmond | M)

Juno did her best to lead him to her preferred fate, but the end is coming and Desmond has doubts.

A Fic With A Premise That Shouldn’t Work But Does:

Proposing To Strangers by moonstalker24 (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | G)

At the end of a strained relationship, crime novelist Stiles chooses to hide from the world inside a bar with far too many motorcycles outside it for comfort. Here he'll meet the man of his dreams, eat food and propose marriage, all within the first five minutes.

Peter doesn't know who this kid is, but he's cute and looks like he could use a break. So he feeds him. He's not expecting a marriage proposal, but with what comes after, he doesn't really mind.

A Fic You’ve Reread Several Times:

Hooverville by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | E)

Town to town, train to train, tent to tent.

By 1932, the dust had begun to blow and the jobs were gone.

Anonymity was a byproduct of looking for work, which made it both necessary and convenient.

Stiles had enough secrets of his own to know to look the other way when he saw something that shouldn’t be possible.

The ghost of a tail giving enough balance to disembark a moving train.

Near silent Latin whispered on the edge of a tent encampment.

A flash of burning eyes.

He had more than enough to worry about without adding the oddities of others, and besides- having unusually sharp teeth certainly didn’t make a man worse than the ones running from the wife and kids they couldn’t feed.

So Stiles kept his observations to himself. He kept his everything to himself.

Until he met a man. One with eyes so blue they seemed to glow- and then they did.

Stiles tried to look away, but for the first time he was stopped.

“Don’t be like that sweetheart. Aren’t you curious?”

A Fic You Still Remember Many Years Later:

All True-Hearted Souls by mardia (Temeraire | Laurence x Granby | G)

“For God's sake, if someone doesn't talk Laurence out of these constant heroics, I wouldn't bet a farthing on his chances; no, and not ours either.” Four times that John Granby helped save William Laurence's life. Laurence/Granby. Spoilers up to Empire of Ivory.

A Comfort Fic:

Nothing Improper by Bunnywest (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | G)

“How long since someone touched you, sweet boy?” Peter asks, his voice barely a breath in Stiles’ ear. “Days? Weeks? Months?” Stiles nods imperceptibly at that last one.

“After…after everything, after Allison,” is all Stiles manages to get out.

A Cathartic Fic:

Swing by ShippersList (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | T)

Stiles wants to fly.

A Fic You’d Print And Put On Your Bookshelf:

Nose to the Wind by Batsutousai (HP | Tom x Harry | M)

While Harry had been content with his second chance, that didn't keep him from thinking what he could have done different, how many people could have survived if he hadn't been set on the very specific path he'd walked. Third time is the charm, though, right?

A Fic You Associate With A Song (x2):

Strange Duet by BelleAmante, thiliart (thilia) (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | M)

The past three years have been a series of shocking, or not so shocking, successes for 2018 Tony award winner and two time Grammy nominee, Stiles Stilinski. You don’t typically find classically trained opera singers singing alternative folk rock to crowds at Coachella. Nor do you find indie singer/songwriters winning best actor awards at the Tony’s for their Broadway debuts. Stilinski has made it his lifetime habit to defy and exceed all expectations.

-or-

A Steter fic loosely based on Phantom of the Opera

~

Full Circle by Nike Femme (FMA | Roy x Ed | T)

Edward Elric returns with amnesia. He has lived the past four years as Auric, a Gatekeeper. But there are some battles that only he can fight. Will his friends be able to awaken Ed, and what happens to Auric if they do?

A Fic That Inspires You:

Off the Line by esama (FFVII | Cloud x Vincent | T)

In which Cloud gets a Virtual Reality Dream Console – ShinRa's latest in virtual reality technology. Aaand everything pretty much goes downhill from there.

A Fic That Brought You On Board A New Ship:

Me and Mine by linndechir (Fast and the Furious | Deckard x Owen | E)

The last time they'd spoken, Deckard had told Owen that he was tired of cleaning up his messes. But the first thing he did after breaking out of prison was to take Owen to the other end of the world so they could lick their wounds and start planning their revenge.

A Fic You Wish Could Be A Movie:

Moving In (To Every Single Aspect of Danny’s Life, Including the Boring Bits like Dry-Cleaning) by westgirl (Hawaii Five-0 | Steve x Danny | T)

It felt wrong for Steve to sound unsure of his place in Danny’s life. His place in Danny’s life was at Danny’s side, driving him slowly insane. Steve should feel secure about that.

A Fic That Led To You Making Friends With The Author:

Begin and End by Rikkamaru (Log Horizon x HP | G)

This is how it begins: a boy rejected by his family, a boy reunited with his brother by his sister-in-law's intervention. A boy who found a family in an online game. But how will it end?

FREE SPACE:

Reverti Ad Praeteritum by Batsutousai (Fullmetal Alchemist | Roy x Edward | M)

Unwillingly forced to serve as a human trial for a crazy alchemist experimenting with time travel, Edward Elric finds himself standing across from Truth in the moment it takes his leg from him. Armed with the knowledge of what's to come and burdened with guilt for the choices he'd made as an adult, Ed sets out to fix every mistake he ever made and save every life they ever lost, no matter what it takes.

A Fic You’ve Gushed About IRL:

Designation: Miracle by umisabaku (Kuroko no Basket | M)

It's been three years since seven human experiments, called "Miracles," escaped Teiko Industries, alerting the world to the presence of super-powered children. Now they're finally integrating into society-- going to normal high schools, playing basketball, falling in love-- and trying to find out if it's possible to truly escape their past.

A Fic You Associate With A Place (have to self-rec for this one):

Safe Harbour by cywscross (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles x Chris | T)

Peter didn't think he'd find a home here. He certainly didn't think he'd find a home with two other men.

Chris and Stiles prove him wrong.

A Fic That Made You Gasp Out Loud (kind of? it was suspenseful):

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | E)

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

A Fic You Found At The Right Time:

slow increments by Areiton (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles)

Peter is enigmatic, egotistical, sometimes barely sane. He's sharp and cutting and takes more time to care for the pack than anyone.And sometimes, John catches him watching Stiles.

A Fic That You Would Read Fic Of:

if you try to break me, you will bleed by Dialux (Game of Thrones | Jon x Sansa | T)

It had been a slash across her chest from a White Walker’s sword that finally ended her life. Sansa’d landed in a puddle of her own blood, and she’d died quickly, quietly.

And then she’d awoken with a gasp, trembling, in a bed that had burned under Theon’s betrayal.

A Fic That Made You Laugh Out Loud:

The Path towards Unwilling Godhood by Sky_King (Bleach | Kisuke x Ichigo | G)

Ichigo has never had the most normal life, and this latest chapter of it is no different.

"I'm not a god!"

A Fic With A Line (Or Two) That You’ve Memorized By Heart:

Atlas by distractedKat (Star Trek | Spock x Jim | T)

Between what was and what will be stands James Tiberius Kirk, in all his fractured patchwork glory. Because saving the Federation was only the beginning.

A Fic That Gave You Butterflies:

The Rest of Our Lives by mia6363 (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | T)

“I don’t know, as a kid I watched a lot of movies, you know? And at first I figured like… I’d be on some great adventure that would take me away from it all, you know? Like Indiana Jones comes around and is all, ‘Hey Stiles, buddy, come with me we’ve got to go save the world.’ Then… you and… everything happened… then I just… I figured I’d die before I was eighteen.”

A Fic That Embodies Something You Value In Life:

The Boy Sleuth by Shey (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | T)

Stiles is eight when he discovers a box of his mom’s old Nancy Drew Mysteries in the back of the guest bedroom closet.

A Favourite AU:

Love What is Behind You by KouriArashi (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | M)

Basically what it says on the label. Hunger Games type fusion. Stiles doing way better than anyone anticipates. Peter finds him intriguing. Ruthless, devious assholes working together to ruin bad guys, as the Steter ship is meant to be.

A Fic You Stayed Up Too Late To Finish Reading:

Of Dwobbits, Dragons and Dwarves by ISeeFire (The Hobbit | Fem!Bilbo x Fili | T)

Bilba has been a slave her entire life. All she knows of the outside world is what she sees from time to time outside the gates of Moria and the stories her mother used to tell her. Stories of a place called the Shire where her mother once lived and a placed called Erebor where, as far as she knows, her father still lives. Stories of dragons a thousand times larger, and more intelligent, than the beasts the orcs rode and of a strange concept called freedom where one was allowed to live as they wished with no one to tell them what they could, or could not do.

The stories meant little to Bilba. The only future she had was to live, and die, as a slave as countless number had before her.

And then the orcs dragged an injured female firedrake through the gates, her rider screaming obscenities behind her as he fought to reach her side...and everything changed.

A Fic That Made You Feel Seen (another self-rec lol):

i am addicted to death (so remind me what it’s like to live) by cywscross (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | T)

Stiles is sixteen years old. He has already died seventy-eight times.

[calliecat93]

ST: TNG S4 Watchthrough Episodes 6-9

Legacy: We have ended up on the home planet of Tasha Yar… and wow it’s not a nice place. We also find out that she has a sister, welp. So… it was alright. Ishara is very similar to Tasha in demeanor, but also very different. I tilt my head at the crew being so willing to trust and accept Ishara into their midst when they know nothing about this woman. I could see the ‘she’s using them’ plot a mile away. But to be fair, the episode addresses it. They wanted to see Tasha. They wanted to see the brave, loyal, strong-willed Security Chief that they lost so callously in her sister… and in the end, that took over. While I can see why Ishara acted as she did, she didn’t know these people and hasn’t seen Tasha in years so she’s under no obligation to care about them, it really has to hurt that she used them and almost committed mass murder and make them take the lame. Her world is a hellhole so her actions make sense, but that doens’t change the betrayal. Especially for Data. Riker sums it up well, with trust comes betrayal… but without trust, there is no friendship. That’s just the cruel truth. Anyways, it was a fine episode. I like that we have a pot-mortem for Tasha even if late… but it just makes me wish that tasha herself didn’t get killed sos he could have had her own plot and feeligns focused on. It still pisse sme off and is just a reminder of so much wasted potential. But ah well, for what they had to work with, they did it welll. 3/5.

Reunion: K’Ehleyr is back… and with a child. Worf’s child, to be exact. Huh. have been waiting very patiently for a follow-up to Sins of the Father and this was an excellent one! Back in K’Ehleyr’s first episode, she was unwilling to take the Oath and Worf wanted to so much and follow the Klingon traditions. Here? K’Ehleyr is ready and doens’t care that he was discommendated… but now Worf can’t. he’s been dishonored and even if it means nothing to K’Ehleyr, it means a great deal to him. He can’t let her or his son bear that shame. It’s so hard to watch him here. How anguished he feels, the way the other Klingons treat him despite it being their damn fault that he accepted it, to begin with, just knowing that he did nothing wrong… but for the greater good, he has to bear it. He doesn’t even want Alexander to be known as his son not because he’s unwilling to accept parental responsibility but to spare him of the dishonor. Just… freakin’ ouch. I was so happy to see K’Ehleyr back and her character is just so freakin’ good and her wanting to allow Alexander to find his life path? Excellent parenting. So… needless to say, her being killed off pisses me off. They at least allowed her character to shine, but… it feels like they only did it to make Worf suffer more. It was well-executed, I was about ready to tear up and Worf being driven to kill Duras for all the suffering that he put him through and now killing the woman he loved (which btw the romantic chemistry was MUCH better here than last time)? I can’t blame him at all. I get why he got reprimanded since Duras was a political figure and this can cause a whole host of problems and clearly Picard was sympathetic… but I just felt so bad for Worf. At least he admitted that he was Aexander’s father and hopefully the poor kid will have a good life with Worf’s parents, bu… yeah. K’Ehleyr’s death stops me form giving this a perfect score, very least I wish we had gotten to see her fight instead of goign to commerical and them walking in on her bloody corpse… but at least they got the tone down. I just hope that one day, Worf and his brother can truly expose the conspiracy because Worf deserves a Hell of a lot better. 4.5/5.

Future Imperfect: Let’s perform a thought experiment, shall we? Imagine going on assignment on your birthday, business as usual… then some kind of mishap happens. You wake up… and discover that you have lost sixteen years' worth of your memory. You can’t remember significant life changes, special moments for yourself and your loved ones, or even your spouse and child. Then just as you begin getting used to things and accepting this new life… you find out that it was all a lie and you were in an illusion all along. You were captured and tricked… and then you find out that was also a lie and it was all due to a lonely alien child left on a barren planet/within a highly advanced Holodeck system that can give him anything that he wants, everyone he knew had died and he did all of this just to have a friend. Congratulations folks, you have now experienced what Riker went through this episode! Yeah, this episode was crazy. I feel bad for the poor kid, while he shouldn’t have done what he did we’re talking about a lonely child essentially forced to live in a Holodeck and just wanted to interact with someone real. Also, I loved how Riker got clued in on how the future word was fake, excellent call-back to Season One! Not much else to say, but good episode! It was wild, that’s for sure~ 3.5/5.

Final Mission: Well folks, this is the curtain call for Wesley Crusher. I know that he pops back up once or twice, but this will be his final episode as a main character as he finally enters the Academy. We’ll get to my final thoughts on Wesley here in a bit, but l focus on the episode itself first. And… it was fine. We have Picard, Wesley, and some third guy crash land on a desert planet, the Enterprise unaware of if they’re alive or not. Thus the three struggle to survive which not only is the third guy essentially a paranoid asshole… but a cave-in seriosuly injures Picard. Thus Wesley is more or less on his own and has to keep Picard alive. Thankfully we avoid killing him off, and thus they make sure to give Wesley a proper send-off. They let him showcase his strengths with his intellegence, fast thinking, and compared to in the beginning he’s much more mature and capable of handling an Away Mission. This convinced me that yes, Wesley is ready for the Academy and that he will be a great Starfleet Officer someday. Meanwhile the Enterprise are dealing with their own issues because of course they are. Nothing can ever just go easy for these people. can it? It’s fine. The Enterprise plot didn’t have me invested aside form worrying about Dr. Crusher. The poor woman just burris herself in her work to deal with her worry about Wesley and evades Troi when she tries to assure her Otherwise the plot is there sot hat it can be a solo Picard and Wesley adventure without hem interfering. Which while I havn’t been the biggest fan of their dynamic, it’s clear how much Welsey admires Picard such as recounting their Samaritan Snare adventure, and Picard admititng that he brought him along because he was going to miss the kid. It’s a nice moment between the characters and allows Wesley to truly open up… though I wish it focused more on him and his mother since that’s been seriously lacking, but ah well. It was still a good send-off episode for Wesley and that’s how you want to treat your characters, whether they stay ont he show or not. 3/5.

As for Wesley himself… it’s been a bumpy road. Do I agree with the consensus that Wesley is an annoying child character that even his actor agrees with (albeit I think jokingly but still)? No. Wesley isn't a bad character. He’s a smart young kid, tries his best, makes mistakes but tries to do his best, and he grew. He’s a perfectly likable kid and this episode especially shows the best of him. Do I agree that the character's role and execution were annoying and contributed to his reputation? Yes. That is ultimately what it boils down to decent character, poor execution. In S1 Wesley was elevated far more than he needed to be. He was given privileges that no other character his age would have been granted no matter the competency level that borders on blatant favoritism. Whenever he made a serious error, he got praise for fixing it, never scolded for his actions with The Naked Now being the worst example. He still had good episodes like Coming of Age, but alas. I think having a kid character who aspires to be in Starfleet, has a parent who is a prominent crew member, and being able to use his skills to help was a perfectly fine idea… but there were just issues with how they did it. S2 and 3 were. While I disliked him at the end of The Dauphin and he still got showed some blatant favoritism, it was better balanced. I didn't feel he earned to be an Ensign until this episode… y’know, the one that shipped him off to The Academy. Crusher being written out in S2 and then brought back in S3 also really killed any and all potential that their dynamic could have truly brought which also hurt. It really feels like by S3 they just didn’t know what to do with the character anymore, limiting him to mainly Helmsman duty. He wasn't being elevated anymore… but he wasn't adding anything anymore either. Maybe promoting him was to help give him something… but Wil Wheaton decided to go, and that ended that. I can’t say I’m sad to see Wesley go because his potential just got squandered to the point that keeping him just felt pointless, and having him go to the Academy feels like the best natural end-point for him, so might as well be now. Nevertheless, Wesley was still part of the crew and for all that I criticized, he certainly didn’t deserve the hate that he got. If people like or even relate to the character, that’s great! He just didn’t work for me unfortunateley. Wil Wheaton obviously moved on to bigger, better things and is well-liked in the fandom, so that’s good cause he certainly did the best that he could. He just wasn’t given a lot of good material. Hopefully Welsey’s later guest appearances will give him somethingg ood and heck maybe they’ll convince Wheaton to come back in Picard one day, but for now… farewell Wesley. Can’t say I’ll miss you, but it wasn’t the worst ride either.

[restingdomface]

Okay I can’t believe I’m going there, but, Lan Wangji’s magical healing cock and also mpreg AU:

Okay. So. Instead of Jin Zixuan being a dick to his crush, he genuinly never had a crush on her at all, and in fact, it never came to light until the Sunshit Campaign started, but JZX had a crush on Jiang Cheng all along. Jiang Cheng, who, reluctantly, returns his affections. Wei Wuxian is disgusted. His brother has terrible taste in men wtf.

So. Things went differently this time. What’s the change here? Meng Yao never left Nie Mingjue’s side. Of course, he did the spying thing, but he never betrayed him (this could be a part of my idea where NMJ and MY plan to actually have him be a spy and send him off after a planned execution of a soldier that NMJ decided needed a death sentence more than banishment, or, an AU where MY presented the idea to Wen Rouhan that his coming to WRH’s side was the betrayel itself). Now how does this change things? Because I honestly and truly think that if MY didn’t go to Jin Guangshan’s side afterwards, JGS wouldn’t have had the sway to execute anyone else in the Wen Family, or do anything horrible like that.

TBH he tries to wipe out the rest of the Wens, but it goes so badly and this time MY isn’t on his side (lol you know JGS would have tried tho, imagine how humiliating it would have been to be publicly denied by your own bastard son at the banquet after wow) and so JGS ends up removed from power entirely and JZX gets made sect leader instead.

This means, that since JZX is about to marry JC, they’re going to have to move to LanlingJin instead of both of them arguing over if they’d move to Lotus Pier or not. Cause they would argue over that. This means that Jiang Cheng is going to be the next Young Master Jin and Jiang Yanli is now officially the Jiang Sect Leader. Nice.

So. We’re rid of JGS and everyone’s happy and MY probably isn’t gonna kill anyone cause now he can marry NMJ in peace and not have to deal with anyone else, where does LWJ’s magic healing dick come in? Hold on I’m getting to it. Impatient.

So. The Wens. Of course, before JGS was removed from power, Wei Wuxian was actually running around saving Wen survivors and gathering them in the Burial Mounds, so he actually has to be coaxed into leaving by his siblings and LWJ and even JZX and NMJ (who thinks this is rather like that one time he had to coax Nie Huaisang out from under his bed when he became convinced NMJ’s cat was a demon because it wouldn’t stop attacking his songbird and he couldn’t come out cause she was in the room and she would steal his soul but she’s just sitting on the windowsill and meowing at them and NMJ is just silently planning to feed her more and keep her away from the atrium and tbh plz NHS you’re 16 years old you’re too old for this plz stop crying) and it’s great. It’s just great.

Anyways. WWX is paranoid af. Like so fucking paranoid. Cause they have been attacked. He’s got 12 year old girls talking about what the adult men in the Jin sect did to them. He’s got a traumatized toddler on his hip that screams when he sees Jin robes. He’s got children with branded scarring on their faces and wounds you can’t even imagine to come from anything but torture. He’s paranoid. He’s trying to keep the kiddos safe. They’re healers, and he’s given them the tools to heal, but they’re scared, and he’s paranoid without his Golden Core, and he’s scared, and he’s not putting down the toddler plz stop asking, he’s keeping this one, shut up.

So. What can he do but make a few demands? The Lan sect may have strict rules, but they would never attack innocent civilians, and they have rules about killing even animals in Gusu. He asks them to send all the Lan guards they can to escort them to GusuLan. He doesn’t think they’d hurt them in YunmengJiang either, but he can’t risk it. He was there when Lotus Pier burned. Cloud Recesses didn’t lose nearly as many people, and he’s still too traumatized to spend much time in LP rn.

So they go to Cloud Recesses. This actually, also gives the other sects a lot of time to get some glimpses at everyone that came from the Burial Mounds.

Not a single one of them was a cultivator.

This is a little different than canon. WWX can’t handle the loss of his golden core in this one. Not to say that he shouldn’t have done it, but that the resentful energy is dragging him down to the point where all he can feel is paranoia and fear. He’s almost completely unresponsive at this point. He follows after LWJ when told to, and he holds little A-Yuan in his arms, but he doesn’t pay much attention to anyone.

Wen Qing tells them of the loss of his core, but not how it happened. Lan Qiren doesn’t much like WWX still, but he accepts that a cornered animal will bite, and WWX lost his main weapon right before a major war. Of course he would do all he could to keep himself safe.

Jiang Yanli offers for the Wen Survivors to be integrated into YunmengJiang, since they lost so many people. It could help a lot. They accept, since she’s offering them protection and help.

Of course, Wen Qing and Jiang Yanli used to Spend A Lot Of Time Together in Cloud Recesses, so love is blooming there between the two sect leaders, and by the end of a year, they’re getting married themselves.

WWX doesn’t go back to LP with them. He couldn’t do it. A-Yuan and Granny and Wen Ning stay with him in Cloud Recesses. Granny talks with Wen Qing regularly, and A-Yuan is attached to Lan Wangji enough that Lan Xichen starts mentioning that he could attend classes there when he’s old enough. LXC is a WangXian shipper and is trying to get his brother to adopt the child. Y’all know he would. WWX spends his time arguing (loudly, but in a room with magical wards for sound so they don’t get in trouble) with a Lan mind healer that talks through his bullshit with him, sleeping the day away in one of the rooms of the Jingshi (because LWJ made him move in right away and WWX couldn’t even argue cause A-Yuan loves him too and he can ask LWJ to play Their Song whenever he wants to hear it) and following after A-Yuan as he enchants (and terrifies) all the rabbits in the field. Also getting yelled at (softly) by LQR for breaking rules. LQR and LWJ have been making it their personal mission to find a way to either purify the resentful energy so WWX can go back to his normal cheerful self that doesn’t jump or hide when startled, or to regain a Golden core so the yin and yang energies can balance each other and keep him stable.

Of course, JYL sends him a message that she’s getting married, and WWX pulls himself out of the fog enough that he can ask them to go to the wedding (he’s being polite, he’s going no matter what they say lol,) and LWJ accompanies him to the wedding. His siblings are so happy to see him there.

Anyways. Things get rocky when WWX hears them talking about kids.

Jiang Yanli will carry Jin Zixuan’s children, and they’ll keep the Jin name. They’ll know that all four of them are their parents, but it’s a way to pass on the name.

Wen Qing will carry Jiang Cheng’s children, and they’ll carry the Jiang name. This also helps to keep track of what kids are heir to what sect.

Of course, Wei Wuxian, the master of ‘I know The Most Obscure Bullshit Ever’, asks why they don’t just have their spouses children. There are spells and potions for that.

Well. No one else in the room knew that but him apparently. Well, they’re still going to go with their idea for the first few kids, and then they’ll decide if other means of pregnancy options are viable.

Anyways. Guess who else didn’t know it was possible for men to get pregnant? You guessed it. Lan Wangji. Who was also in the room at the time.

So. Wedding is lovely. They all have an amazing time. WWX is able to pull himself out of bed every day. He was even able to work on some cultivation items that LQR begrudgingly admits are amazing items and very useful to cultivation.

They go back to Cloud Recesses, and Lan Wangji combs through his and his uncle’s notes till he finds a viable solution to a return of a Golden core that they had originally scrapped because WWX wasn’t a girl.

To return a Golden core to a body by means of very careful pregnancy. Of course, such a thing would be considered stealing under normal circumstances, and most mothers would rather die than harm their child in the womb in a way that could kill them. But this was a method made to keep both parent and child from harm. A way to build the slightest lump of core in the parent, enough to stick and allow a base to build off of later.

Of course, without consulting Uncle (because the man would be horrified at the idea, and LWJ would rather be rejected by the man himself thanks very much) he takes the proposal to the man in question.

WWXA has to think about this one for a long time. He thinks about it while helping Wen Ning with zombie stuff so he can maintain a stable body. He thinks about it while writing letters to his siblings. He thinks a LOT about it while tucking their two year old into bed and reading him a story with the funny voices. He thinks about it when he spends a night in the cold springs with LWJ one night, close enough to touch the man, because without a Golden core, the water is too cold for him to survive in on his own.

He asks why LWJ would besmirch his honor like that. Having a child out of wedlock, his uncle would throw a fit. His name would be in tatters.

LWJ blinks, once, and twice. He quietly tells him the offer could involve marriage if WWX thinks it’s of import.

So. They get married. So they can have a child. Another child. Just. Yeah. Let’s get married so we can mate like rabbits.

They’re in love. Of course they are. But they’re also shy idiots. LWJ is a sex fiend like usual, and WWX quickly gets addicted to it, but they’re both too shy to say anything sappy yet. Well. No. Scratch that. LWJ is fully willing to admit his love to the world. But he’s a very quiet person. So he mostly just tells WWX how much he would do anything for him, and even eats his horrible poison cooking. Not even A-Yuan will touch that shit.

A-Yuan is so excited to be a big brother. His favorite place to lay is curled around WWX’s big belly and giving it kisses while A-Die scratches his hair and reads him stories.

A-Yuan finally gets his baby and Wei Wuxian gets the stability that a Golden core provides so he can continue using resentful energy to dodge the many many scrolls Shifu Qiren will throw at him over the years to come. LQR swears that if that man hadn’t given his nephew happiness and also many great nephews-

Anyways. The Lotus Flowers are all gay and all happy send tweet.

[dustedmagazine]

Ian Mathers’ 2020: We’re stuck inside our own machines

I’ve had a song I loved in high school and haven’t thought much about since stuck in my head. The song “Apparitions” by the Matthew Good Band is a fine example of the alt rock of the late 90s; if you grew up then but somewhere down in the states (or elsewhere) instead of my southern Ontario you may well have your regional equivalents, and like this one they may not resonate terribly strongly outside of their time and place. It popped back into my head after a long time recently and of course 2020 has changed it a little. A song that as a teen I felt keenly as about loneliness (albeit also about how technology can feed into that) of course now plays on my nerves as another small piece of art about the way that most of us (those scared and/or responsible anyway) have only that relatively narrow, technologically mediated connection to the people we love. All of us, artists and listeners alike, are trying to fit our feelings and art and selves down these little connections, with some success.

On a personal level, 2020 wound up being stressful in ways we couldn’t have predicted even after the pandemic hit. In circumstances that could have seen governments on this continent support those unable to work (and those who shouldn’t have to), support those workers who are truly essential, support workers and renters and even landlords and small businesses, instead we got a near-total abeyance of those governments using the resources we provide them with to save any of us. On a personal level my wife and I were lucky enough to be able to work from home (not that it didn’t come with its own forms of stress, and now that I’m off until January I have several work/stress-related illnesses to recover from) but still saw friends and loved ones lose good, used-to-be-sustainable livings overnight, saw family businesses succumb to a near-total absence of effective government support after months of trying to keep above water, etc.

It is probably no surprise that this is not a situation conducive to listening to music, let alone writing about it; I have deliberately and happily kept busy on behind the scenes stuff at Dusted that I could still manage but looking, at the end of the year, at the amount I managed to actually create is demoralizing if not at all shocking. I’m not sure I think next year will be ‘better’ in many important ways, although at our job there is a growing feeling among coworkers that next year has to have some work/life balance because 2020 was, maybe more than anything else, unsustainable.

That’s not to say I didn’t spend a lot of time and emotion on music this year, and if nothing else constant sleep deprivation, stress, and panic meant I was probably open to being deeply moved by all sorts of art even more than normally (it’s gotten to the point where I can’t even read a sad or moving twitter thread out loud to my wife without getting teary, which is kind of… nice?). Funnily enough the band that did the most to keep me sane didn’t really put out anything in 2020. Personal favorite, Low, instead started, in early April, getting on Instagram with something they called on whim “It’s Friday I’m in Low.” With one brief break they have now done by my count at least 35 shows (catalogued here, by the way), every Friday at about 4 my time.

Admittedly it’s easier for Low to pull this off than some bands, since the 2/3 of the trio that sing are a married couple (they’ve had a couple of socially-distanced backyard shows with bassist Steve Garrington, but he’s mostly been isolating elsewhere). These shows have seen the band’s Alan Sparhawk take a mid-set break to do follow-up phone interviews with the acts featured in the COVID-curtailed touring bands series Vansplainingthat they started on YouTube, or just to give a tour round their vegetable garden and talk tips. It’s seen Alan and Mimi Parker draw on their impressive, 25+ year body of work (averaging 4-5 songs a set, I don’t think they’ve repeated themselves yet) and talk a bit between songs about pandemics, politics, song choices, and whether Alan should grab his bike helmet this time.

They’re not the only musicians out there speaking love and sanity (and playing music) into the strange digital interzone filled with hate and disinformation where we’ve all been forced to gather while locked down, but they were and the most consistent and steady signal being emitted each week. No matter how tired I was from work or what new symptoms I’d developed or what horrific thing I read into the news, even if I had to take an emergency nap while it was actually airing, every Friday the show was there. Once things do return to something more like normal, it’s one of the few things I’ll unambiguously miss about this weird-ass year.

So if that makes an argument for Low as my band of the year (admittedly again… it’s not like Double Negative has aged poorly, either), that does a disservice to those 2020 records I did connect with; even if there are still literally dozens I have to go through, many of which I expect to love, my top picks this year (if as unrankable by me as always) hit me as hard as any top pick in recent years did. So here I present a quick and informal top 5, which the rest of my top 20 following in alphabetical order. Here’s hoping for more time and space in 2021 for music, and even more than that, for more support for those who need it from those who could have been providing it all this time. (The Matthew Good Band, incidentally, always did best with their ballads. “Strange Days” is another I’ve had in my head these days; the image of moving “backwards, into a wall of fire” has stuck with me since the 90s and it’s never felt more grimly appropriate.)

Greet Death — New Hell

New Hell by Greet Death

This one is, in some sense, cheating; it came out November 2019. But that just means it’s the latest winner of my personal Torres Prize for Ian Being Late to the Party (so named because becoming slightly obsessed with Torres’ Sprinter just after I sent in my 2015 list was the first time I noticed that one of my favorite records of each year tends to get picked up by me just after I call it quits on the year, no matter how long I try to wait). This very doom and gloom slowcore/metal/(whatever, just know it’s heavy) trio at first felt very much like my beloved Cloakroom (whose Time Well has also won a Torres Prize) but sure enough nuances revealed themselves. Back in February it felt almost a little too negative, but then the rest of 2020 happened. And the extended burns of “You’re Gonna Hate What You’ve Done” and the title track remain searing.

Holy Fuck — Deleter

Probably the record I’ve been trying to write about the longest in 2020, and the one I’m most disappointed in myself that I just couldn’t get the requisite paragraphs together. It’s a wonderful effort from the consistently great Toronto resolutely human-created (and —mediated) dance music quartet, one that both feels like a summation of everything they do well, and with the addition of some outside voices (including strong turns from the singers of both Hot Chip and Liars) a step forward at the same time.

Spanish Love Songs — Brave Faces Everyone

Brave Faces Everyone by Spanish Love Songs

As the year got worse, this roar of defiance only got more crucial for me to hear every so often; I was a big enough fan of it, even after writing it up for Dusted, that when they solicited fan footage for a subsequent music video you may just be able to get a glimpse of me in it. (I’m the one in a “No Tories” t-shirt.) My punk rock-loving twin brother was the one who introduced me to Spanish Love Songs and we were supposed to spend an evening in June screaming along to them live in a packed, sweaty room. I need that in my life again.

Julianna Barwick — Healing Is a Miracle

Healing Is A Miracle by Julianna Barwick

It’s a sign of what 2020 has been like here that even just this album title leaves bruises, and while I privately worried Barwick would have a hard time following up 2016’s sublime Will (probably my favorite record that year), it seems that continuing to take whatever downtime she needs to keep focusing and refining her particular muse has once again yielded amazing results. Anyone who thinks they know what a Barwick track sounds like should really check out, say, “Flowers”, but much of this record absolutely sounds like Barwick, just even better than before. She also boasted my wife and I's favorite streaming concert of 2020, an absolutely gorgeous rendition of this album with Mary Lattimore showing up.

Phoebe Bridgers — Punisher

Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers

I joked on Twitter recently that I have far too nice a dad (and far too good a relationship with him) to be as obsessed as I am with Phoebe Bridgers’ “Kyoto”, but here we are. Like most of her generation, Bridgers’ social media presence ranges from shit-posting to inscrutable, but even though things are often just as hard to figure out in her beautiful songs (as they often are in life), there’s an emotional clarity to them that can just grab you deep down. Couple that with seriously impressive songcraft and the progress from her already astounding debut Stranger in the Alps and more than anyone else in 2020 I’m excited to see just where the hell Phoebe Bridgers is going to go, because it feels like she’s talented and hardworking enough to go just about anywhere and drag a lot of our hearts with her.

Other Favorites

Aidan Baker & Gareth Davis — Invisible Cities II

Anastasia Minster — Father

Deftones — Ohms

Hum — Inlet

Kelly Lee Owens — Inner Song

Mesarthim — The Degenerate Era

Perfume Genius — Set My Heart On Fire Immediately

Protomartyr — Ultimate Success Today

Rachel Kiel — Dream Logic

The Ridiculous Trio — The Ridiculous Trio Plays the Stooges

Sam Amidon — Sam Amidon

Shabason, Krgovich & Harris — Philadelphia

Stars Like Fleas — DWARS Session: Live on Radio VPRO

Well Yells — We Mirror the Dead

Yves Tumour — Heaven to a Tortured Mind

Five Reissues/Compilations/etc.

Aix Em Klemm — Aix Em Klemm

Bardo Pond — Adrop/Circuit VIII

Charles Curtis — Performances & Recordings 1998-2018

Coil — Musick to Play in the Dark

Hot Chip — LateNightTales

Ian Mathers

[everlarkficexchange]

Operation: BREAD (Bring Revenge on Everdeen to Avenge Dad)

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 23: Rumor: MrEverdeen crossed fence dividing Town and Seam, kidnapped Mrs Everdeen making her his common law wife. Years later, Mellark sons plan to avenge their father by raiding Seam and kidnapping one of Everdeen’s daughters for one of them to take as a wife! Does Katniss “volunteer,” does she escape, how do the 3 brothers decide what to do with her since they didn’t plan it all out well? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Rated: T for now, for language.

Author’s Note: So, I resigned myself that this prompt won’t be completed by the new dateline of May 10th, because believe it not, quarantining with the husband and children at home makes for a very busy day… everyday. I haven’t been able to write anything for days at a time, and everytime I come back, I reread what I’ve written so far, and find faults that need fixing and what I hoped to be a short story is turning into a long one shot because I’m incapable of keep things simple… and now I’m ranting about everything instead of thanking everyone— from the EFE administrators, to @567inpanem for the prompt, and y’all dear readers— and wishing all moms a happy Mother’s Day, even if you celebrate it on a different date in your country… and I a belated happy birthday to Katniss Everdeen and Also a happy Mother’s Day to her, because she deserves it… anywho…

Here’s is the very first part of this story, that can’t make up its mind on what it wants to be (it’s leaning into romcom territory right now), I’ll post all my submissions soonish (hopefully finished), and I apologize for any formatting defects since I’m posting from my cell phone, otherwise I’ll forget to post it at all.

Sorry this is messy! I love y’all! Stay healthy.

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“Quiet, you morons!” Bannock… whispers?

Is that the right descriptor for the harsh, low sounds that comes from his mouth? I’m not quite sure, but I look at him sheepishly, since I was the one to trip on air this time around and nearly knock down a clothesline, poles and all.

“S-sorry…” I stutter drunkenly.

Rye shrugs, uncaring. Asshole!

Bannock glares at us with his bloodshot, angry blue eyes before turning around and creeping forward.

It’s a chilly night out, with no stars and just a sliver of moon casting minimal light over us, ideal to maraud and raid… if we lived any place else, that is.

If we were to find ourselves face to face with the flashlight of a Peacekeeper patrolling the streets, things could go anywhere from awkward to deadly, and I really hope we don’t have to find out how it’ll truly go. We’re wasted, outside our house after curfew, and facing our mother’s wrath would probably be as terrible as any punishment the peacekeepers would inflict on us.

The later option has me swallowing thickly.

I’m no coward by any stretch of the word… but I do enjoy being alive, so… yeah.

“Don’t mess around, no more!” Bannock chides.

As soon as Bann turns around, Rye mouths his words back, mockingly, and I wonder— not for the first time— how can my brothers be so immature? Bannock just turned 25, while Rye has the mind of a 13 year old trapped in the muscular body of a 24 year old man; leaving sweet, little me, the 21 year old baby sibling, to bring the rear.

Rye burps, mostly quietly, earning another warning glare from Bann. All things considered, I’m a little impressed at how stealthily we’ve been moving so far, being as enebriated as we are and all. But who knows? Maybe we really aren’t as slick as my alcohol soaked brain thinks we are, and I’m just too skunked to know any better.

“D’you think we’ll be back before father wakes to take care of the ovens?” Rye slurs a little, squinting his eyes at a cat trotting across the alley in front of him. A second later he’s frowning down at the cat, shushing it obnoxiously, as if it’s soft paws are the ones making the stopping sounds coming from his own boots.

Bannock shrugs, “Who cares!”

I’m about to raise my hand and respond that I do, I care, but Rye starts laughing like an idiot, already distracted by something else. We turn to catch him picking up a stick and throwing it at the poor, unsuspecting cat. As soon as the stick hits it’s side, the animal loses its balance, making it fall into a trash can, with a terrified cry.

It’s awful. And loud.

“Knock it off!” Bannock growls as quietly as he can. “You’re gonna wake up the whole town, asshole!”

The cat meows indignantly, climbing out of the trash. He jumps to the other side and it’s gone in the next moment.

I sigh, rubbing one hand over my face. “Guys, I think we should go back. I don’t think Father will approve of this.”

“Shut up, Peeta!”

“Yeah! Shut it, runt!”

I grunt in aggravation under my breath. “I’m serious. We shouldn’t be out here… at all!” I insist.

“Why did you come then?” Bann hisses.

“You dragged me out with you, jackass!” I counter, pointedly. Plus, I’m the least drunk out of the three of us, and I figured I should keep an eye on them two, make sure they don’t get hurt in this idiotic quest… but I don’t say that out aloud. “I still don’t understand why, are we stumbling across town in the middle of the night, risking getting caught outside after curfew.”

“You know why, Peeta! We’ve gone over it to death,” snaps Bann, twisting his whole body to face me and almost walking into a potted plant sitting by somebody’s back door. “Father doesn’t know how to take care of himself, let alone how to defend his honor!”

“Our hands have been forced, runt. We need to pick up the slack, that’s why!”

I roll my eyes at my brothers.

It’s true though. For the last 26 years, our father has been both the butt of every joke said in the streets of district 12, and the victim of a tragic cautionary tale, people somehow feel the sadistic inclination to bring up to us, Mellark boys, as if we needed the reminder.

“Geez… save it for Everdeen, Bann. Let the runt keep his head instead of chewing it off him!”

Bannock frowns. It’s not everyday Rye comes to my defense, which means he really must be hammered.

Cool! I love brotherly affection… even if given under the influence.

“Whatever.” Bannock mutters under his breath. “We’re here anyway.” He signals to the fence dividing our district into two unequal sections: the merchant quarter, where we live, and the Seam (our destination), the largest— yet poorest— side of 12.

It’s unclear why the government erected the fence running right through the district in the first place, but the effect of having a literal barrier separating everyone in our small district, couldn’t be any clearer: we have a huge social divide amongst our people, very distinct and hard to overcome. Both sides distrusting the other, despite there never being a tangible reason why.

Personally, I think the most logical explanation for the creation of the internal fence, was just sheer desire to create hostility and antagonism between the citizens of 12… maybe it’s easier for the Capitol’s long arm to control a podunk place like here, when there’s an unbridgeable social chasm between our own denizens; how can we band together to demand better treatment and fair representation from the mighty Capitol, when we’re fighting with each other?

Of course, I keep my opinion to myself, because speaking of such things is just a sure way to find oneself in prison, facing charges of public agitation and whatnot.

Bann cuts through my musings, “Alright… let’s find a spot to cross over.” He says determined and still very intoxicated.

The worst kept secret in District 12, is how some sections of the fence are too close to the houses in the merchant side. If one really wants to cross into the other side over the fence, one only needs to look for a low wall adjacent to the top links of the fence to climb on, and after that, it’s all a matter of gravity pulling you down. Its been done before too…

Everyone speculates that’s what happened the day our father fell into disgrace: A man from the Seam found a weak spot to exploit… and the rest is history. Never mind the fact that jumping the fence is a common enough hooligan deed; how else can teenage couples reach the Slag Heap at the edge of the old coal mines to engage in their secret affairs?

It only takes us a few minutes to find a brick wall circling the backyard of a random house, just two feet shy of the fence.

We climb it with all the grace of a pig crawling up a greased pole, but after much huffing and puffing, we manage— with great effort— to drag ourselves over the barrier. We’re sweating and swearing, but who could blame us for that? We Mellark boys are just too broad and heavy with muscle, add to the mix the fact that we’ve drank our body weight in white liquor right before Bann had the brilliant idea of dragging us out here, and you have an uncoordinated— mostly clumsy— sad excuse, trio of vandals.

Rye goes first, then I go; finally, Bannock splatters down like a bullfrog, falling on his ass. He’s disgruntled and I suspect in dire need of a nap.

“Come on!” He commands, dusting his behind sloppily.

We’ve been walking aimlessly through unfamiliar dirt roads and dark unpaved alleys. The place is littered with produce crates set upside down in neat circles every other road… I vaguely wonder if that’s what passes as a socializing hot spot here in the Seam, like the square with its concrete benches is for us in town?

Sometimes I forget how things can be so shitty on this side of the District. It makes my stomach twist unpleasantly with guilt, realizing I take certain privileges for granted.

About five minutes into our stupid intrusion into Seam territory, Rye speaks up.

“Dude… do you know where they live?”

Bannock’s head snaps up, clearly annoyed. “How hard can it be to find the Seam’s apothecary?”

Very, actually.

First of all, The Seam consists of row after row of seemingly identical shacks, in varying states of shabbiness, arranged in a huge matrix of sorts. Each row is made of three to five houses with a slim road in between the next set of homes.

For what I gather in my limited liquor-addled brain, each horizontal row has a designated letter, and the vertical street goes by number. Other than that, there are no other distinguishing signs, telling us where we are or how to find the ‘Seam apothecary’ as Bann inarticulately dubbed it.

Rye groans in annoyance, seeming ready to overrule Bannock and call the whole thing off, himself; but my drunk ass is too stupid to keep my big mouth shut.

“They live close to the electric fence. Right before the meadow. They probably have a fence-in yard, too.”

I wince, regretting my words right away. I shouldn’t have said anything, but like an idiot, I couldn’t help spilling out the small bursts of information I’ve gathered over the years on the Everdeens.

I’m ashamed to admit it, but the Everdeens are a bit of an obsession to me… for all of us Mellarks, really. Given our entangled past with them, it shouldn’t be so much of a revelation, but this thing between our families has been a nuisance ever since I can remember and while my brothers and mother use it as a focal point of hatred and animosity. For me, is a curiosity driven thirst for knowledge on everything Everdeen. Anything that could shed light on our sordid past, I would gobble up, trying to answer why something that has virtually nothing to do with me and my brothers, still haunt us everywhere we go.

Rye frowns. “Fence-in yard?” He looks around the houses we are passing, realizing none of those have fences.

“Goat.” Bannock grunts, nodding thoughtfully. “Good catch, runt.”

“Huh?” Rye is scratching his head, confused.

“The blonde girl,” Bann says with mild irritation.

People from the Seam have a very specific look to them: dark— usually straight— hair, gray eyes, olive skin… ‘blonde’, blue eyed and pale, is more of a descriptor for people from the merchant class, like us… like Mrs. Everdeen.

The poor woman must stick out like a sore thumb in here; probably the same goes to her merchant-looking daughter, Primrose.

“What about the blonde?”

“She makes goat cheese.” Bann huffs as explanation, but since Rye still looks like the concept is too hard to fathom, Bannock grunts, expanding. “She trades the cheese in town. Mainly with Father. Which means, Everdeen has to keep at least one goat for the girl to have access to milk.”

“M’kay… goat, fences, meadow.” Rye lists clumsily on his fingers, following after Bann. “Got it!”

We quickened our steps in the direction of the electric fence. I’m still kicking myself for saying anything when we reach the last row of houses before the meadow.

I really hope I’m wrong about them having a goat, although I find it hard to believe Primrose steals milk from other people for her cheeses. She looks so sweet and innocent.

Alas, I’m too clever for my own good sometimes.

The very first house in the row at the edge of the meadow, has a pen connected to the house on the strip of backyard allotted to them. A tiny but sturdy shed stands against the back wall of the house, and if my eyes don’t deceive me, I can barely make out the snout of a goat, peeking out of the narrow opening of the shed.

“This is it!” Rye crows excitedly, rubbing his hands together and licking his chops like a hungry, humanoid wolf.

“Yeah. Finally!” Grunts Bann, “keep your voice down, doofus.” his reaction, both frenzied and anxious.

“Let’s do this!” Rye’s smile is deranged.

“Great!” I hiccup with fake enthusiasm. “What are we doing?” I deadpan, staring at my siblings with all the aggravation I can muster.

My brothers speak excitedly at the same time:

“Taking one of the girls back home with us!”/“Beating the shit out of Everdeen!”

My brothers look at each other, perplexed, and go, “”What?!” At the same time.

“Fuck!” I groan to the skies, noting its near dawn. “You better be joking! We came all the way out here, and you idiots didn’t plan what you were going to do once we arrived?”

“No… I mean, yes! No. it’s simple,” Slurs Rye trying to stare me in the eye and failing miserably, “We’re dragging Everdeen out here. Then, we’ll beat the snot out of the bastard, and have you doodle the whole thing out for Father… you’ll finally use that art talent of yours for something we’ll all enjoy… not just you,”

“No, no, no, no!” Snaps Bannock. “We’re taking one of Everdeen’s daughters, bring her back home with us, and avenge father.”

“What? Why?” Rye whines much too loud and even I shush him. “I thought we were just gonna jump the bastard and rearrange his face a little,” Rye sounds disappointed.

Bannock answers right away, sounding like our mother when she’s chiding us for some thing or another. “Dude… the guy stole Dad’s girl! You know what they say about repaying a slight with the same coin and all that shit. It stands to reason, the course of action here is to take one of the girls home with us, sleep with her, and get her pregnant or something, then she can’t come back to her daddy.”

I throw my hands up in the air, “That’s it! I’m out!” My brain practically short circuits with the outrageous shit my brothers are spewing out of their mouths.

Sure, beating the lights out of an unsuspecting man in front of his house in the middle of the night is already crazy, but Bann’s idea to take a girl away from her home, it’s beyond preposterous!

Instead of lashing out, I turn around and stalk away as fast as my legs can carry me. I’m still tipsy, so I stumble a little, but I’m determined to leave.

“Hey! Where are ya going?!”

I get grabbed by the bíceps and pulled back to ‘hide’ behind a scraggly bush overlooking the house we assume is Everdeen’s. My brothers push me down by the shoulders roughly, until I’m sitting on my ass.

“The hell is wrong with you two?” I snarl, trying to punch and kick either one of them.

“Shut up, runt! They’re gonna hear you!”

“Good! Then someone will call the Peacekeepers over.”

“Wha— No! Why would you want that?” Rye whines.

“I didn’t sign up for any of this crazy shit!” I spit enraged.

“Dude, you can’t bail on operation BREAD,” Rye scrunches up his face.

“Operation Bread? What in the hell, is operation Bread?” I wrench my arms free from them at last, glowering up at both.

“Bring Revenge on Everdeen to Avenge Dad!” Rye says proudly, a lopsided smile brightens his face, and all I want to do is punch his nose.

“You’re insane!” I sputter.

“No… I’m cle-ver!” Rye grins, tapping a finger to his temple.

“Come on, Peeta. You know this needs to be done!” Bann cuts in.

“No! It doesn’t!” I argue. I still feel woozy from alcohol though, so it’s costing me too much effort trying to get up. “This is just insane, Bannock! What you’re proposing is just… heinous!” I hiss.

Bannock’s face hardens, “Nobody will see it like that.” He assures, “An eye for an eye, baby brother.”

“So what? We’re gonna kidnap and rape an innocent girl in revenge, and you think that’ll fix anything? Will it bring peace? It’ll help you get Madelynn’s parents to back off and let her marry you?” I’m so pissed off, I’m pretty sure spittle is flying out of my mouth. “It won’t do anyone any good! Not us, nor father, and especially not Katniss or Primrose!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Bannock flies at me, and all I have to do is lift my arms to shield my head.

Rye is an equal opportunity asshole most of the time, but in this moment, he’s the one stopping Bannock from breaking my face in two, and I’m very grateful for my middle brother manhandling our eldest for me.

“Rape is a strong word, runt.” Rye gasps with the effort of keeping Bannock from kicking my ass. But if the wrinkling of his nose is any indication, I think maybe my words are chipping away some of his complicitness in this mess. “Maybe, what Bann meant, was, one of us will… you know… spend time with the girl, and then… make her his common law wife or something?” Rye looks at Bann expectantly.

Bannock nods. Rye lets go of him.

We all stay silent, breathing heavily for a moment.

“Same coin. Simple as that.”

If the stories are to be believed, Sorrel Everdeen crossed the fence dividing the merchant quarter and the seam, kidnapped my father’s betrothed— Lily— and made her his common law wife, despite being common knowledge, that the woman in question was engaged to our father since they were very young.

It’s an old rumor, really, with no real way to fact-check the events that led to this moment in time, but there’s always been some nasty whispering churning around town; tales varying in height and perjury, sometimes scandalous, others depraved, always with add-ons and full of conjectures flavored by the speaker in turn, but never the whole truth.

The worst thing is that the stories die down for a while when something juicer comes up, but then resurface, like a persistent oily stain on cement… It’s been 26 years since the real events leading to the Everdeens controversial marriage took place, yet the old gossip mill in District 12 has waxed over and rewritten the sordid story through the lense of judgemental people over and over again, until even our mother has started to repeat the outlandish tales, as if she wasn’t an active participant of the story herself.

Still… “I just can’t!” I say both exasperated and grossed out. “We should just go home—“

I get cut off when the door of the Everdeen house opens spilling faint candlelight into the almost blackened-out street.

My brothers rush to huddle around me, crowding on top of me like a pair of boulders… or worse: a pair of sweaty, heavy, alcohol doused men. Disgusting!

The door of the shack closes softly and to our shock, a very angry looking Katniss Everdeen stomps in the direction of the sad excuse for a bush we’re hiding in.

“Hmm… guys… I think she sees us.” I mumble calmly, yet terrified. Katniss Everdeen, eldest daughter of Sorrel and Lily, is coming our way with fire in her eyes.

TBC on AO3…