#not everything must follow a 'trope' to a T

[gutsyjieun]

tbh i am not a fan of this weird narrative about osha that's being tossed around. saying she has no agency is such bullshit and saying that we fell for that by liking her dynamic with qimir is even more annoying.

osha's whole thing is agency. that is literally, in my opinion, the root of her character. in the coven, it is because of osha's own agency and need for independence that she hesitates saying 'yes i accept this life' to her own family. she's craving freedom she thinks the jedi can give her. her own curiosity and utter need to be her own person, to not be tied to her twin sister are so well portrayed in this desperate grasp onto what she thinks will offer her independence and some kind of understanding of her true self. and then she leaves the jedi order, because it's just another set of rules and ways she must abide to fit into it. just another prison for her because she can't be her own person; her true self. she literally left the one thing that caused the entire conflict with her family in the first place. if that's not agency, i don't know what is. when qimir asks her why she's not a jedi, osha doesn't blame the jedi for anything, she says "because i failed." once again, she's focusing on her own choices and actions, indicating she's very self-aware of her independency and how it may have harmed her. she failed because of her own emotions, also something she's aware of. these emotions she couldn't keep at bay because of her agency; they're a part of her and a part she could not ignore or suppress like the jedi needed her to. it can even be interpreted as the show almost portraying osha as selfish because of how much agency they've given her. i honestly want this to be the case, i need messy, flawed osha

not just that, but osha is constantly practising her agency in many ways; she's leading her life the way she herself has chosen. what she thinks of these choices is a different thing entirely and can be interpreted by however you see it but ultimately her own choices led her to where she is.

which is the same thing that happens with qimir. he literally gives her an option to leave and go after master sol and her sister or just do whatever she wants. she doesn't have to stay there. i know a lot of people think he was manipulating her because he would've trapped her if she had left anyway, but i think that's a wrong way to look at what's really going on here, especially considering osha's characterisation. osha makes the choice here again, implying she has a lot of agency, again, and it makes a lot of sense why she stayed. this is just another way for her to seek out the freedom to be herself. osha is curious about the dark side, whether she denies that or not, and she wants to learn about it in hopes of gaining a sense of who she truly is. it doesn't tie her down to anything and it doesn't take away her agency. seduction from qimir's side may be a part of it but that doesn't negate the fact osha makes her own choice to allow him to teach her. she literally puts on the mask herself, it's not like he forced her to do that. she does that because she is desperate to find her true self once again.

she has so much agency in all her actions i think it's rather frustrating to see people reduce her character to 'she's falling for qimir's seduction because she's such a weak, passive character' like do you hear yourselves... in my opinion the show has made a great point of showing that osha, even if repressed and hesitant/presented as passive, will act out on her choices. and i think that's exactly what she's doing right now. she could've killed qimir, but she chose not to. after he opened up to her, her own empathy and curiosity led her to make that choice. even if she knows he's on the dark side, she still chooses to hear him out. she puts on the mask because she wants to. a part of her can see it could potentially give her what she always wanted: to be herself.

you could say qimir might seduce her to want codependency as this is something he seems to seek, but to imply osha has no agency is to disregard everything that has led her to this point in the story lol.

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part sixteen

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.3k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: i am so excited for you guys to see everything I've got coming up for this series- ah!! also, should i post the masterlist for requiem soon?? i can't post the first part just yet, but i'm excited ab it so let me know if you guys want to see that to be able to get the vibes and stuff!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

"Hello there, Miss." Coryo grins at you, extending his arm to you to hold as you step out of your house and close the door behind you.

You pretend not to see, reaching down to retie your shoe which was already laced up perfectly. "Hi." You reply quietly, and his smile fades. You already seem in weaker spirits than you were this afternoon.

"Did you enjoy your nap?" He asks as you stand up straight again, making your way down the front path of your house to the street and he follows like a stray dog.

You turn when you reach the road, looking at him only briefly. "I did. Thank you." You mumble, unable to make extended eye contact without your heart beating out of your chest. It was hard to tell if you were awake or asleep when he was around.

"That's good." He nods, joining your side. He's there to walk you to The Hob, but he honestly was relying more on you to guide the way.

You don't say anything, walking with your arms crossed carefully, protectively across your midsection.

Coryo is worried, but he does know that you don't want to walk alone at night, so he tries to convince himself it's just that. Not him.

"You, uhm, you look nice." He tells you, taking notice of your change of clothes. It was refreshing to see you in something other than that short dress with the sewn-in shorts, though with the longer skirts you had worn today, it covered much more of your skin. Part of him missed the short dress that was now most definitely unwearable. It was your favourite, he remembered.

"Thank you." You say back, the hair on your arms pricking up from the chill that was starting to settle in. It wasn't a cold night, you didn't think, but colder than Twelve often saw in mid-August. Maybe it was just you. "You do, as well."

He laughs, and you look at him for the first time tonight. His blue eyes shine with the reflection of the sunset, and you're no longer cursing yourself for trusting him to walk you this afternoon. He wouldn't hurt you, and you knew that. Stupid dreams. Stupid nightmares. He saved you- he's the only reason you're alive today, you're certain.

"We're trying to blend in, Sejanus thought we were scaring people." He explains, laughter subsiding.

You smile at him. "I was going to say, that style doesn't feel like your own." You giggle. "But I like it."

"Why, thank you." He grins, tugging on the front of his white t-shirt as if he was adjusting a suit jacket.

Your dreams were just dreams. If he had that evil in him, could you live with it? That was what you had to figure out. Right now, though, with you, that darkness was nowhere to be seen. You were awake. You must be.

"How has Twelve been treating you so far?" You ask, suddenly self-conscious of his impression of your home as your feet crunch over the gravel path beneath you.

"Okay." Coryo shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "It was hard to find someone to talk to us long enough to get a lead on where to find you."

"People tend to keep to themselves." You explain. "Also looking for me is an odd request."

"Why?"

Now it was your turn to shrug. "No one really wants to talk to me now, either." The stares you got were seemingly endless. People would stare, point, whisper, and it didn't particularly bother you, but you hated that maybe people were afraid. You feared that everyone thought the games turned you into something fragile, and they were scared of upsetting you with the wrong words or the alternative; you were a weapon ready to explode at any moment.

"That's because people are careless and cruel." Coryo replies, no hesitation behind his tone. "And they have no way of understanding... you."

"They're good people, honestly, I just-"

"I know that." He assures you, sensing your panic. "But it's not your place to prove to them who you are. Changed or not."

"Do you think I have changed?" You ask, genuinely curious despite the softness of your voice.

Coryo is quiet for a moment. "I would say no," He looks at you as you walk alongside him. "but you have, I think. There's more to you, now."

You chew on your lip, watching your steps as you pass under the streetlights.

He watches your reaction, nervous when you don't respond. "I don't mean that in a bad way." He clarifies. "To me, you're still you." He wants to tell you you're less naive, more experienced, that it will keep you safe, but he feels as though that wouldn't be the right thing to say. "But it's impossible to walk out of that arena the same person. We have that in common."

The flickering street lamps illuminate the blush on your cheeks for just a moment. "Thank you, Coryo. That means a great deal." 

"Of course." He hums, walking close enough now to just brush your arm with his own.

Your heart leaps in your chest, from fear or excitement you aren't sure- but you're grateful to be able to finally hear the music coming from The Hob as you approach the rundown building.

There's nowhere else you would want to be any less than The Hob during one of Lucy Gray's shows. You loved her, The Covey, the beautiful and fun music they made together, but since you'd been home, it had been impossible to enjoy yourself there.

You didn't even try until tonight.

Your fears came true. Almost as soon as you and Coriolanus walked in, scattered eyes were on you. You could feel it like pricks in your skin. It didn't help that you were with a stranger. People were dancing, drinking, laughing, but you couldn't help but feel like the laughs were directed at you. Certainly, some staring was.

Coryo looks down at you, seeing your hands still gripped onto your own arms, holding yourself together. He wasn't great with crowds, and seemingly neither were you. His urge was to retreat to the nearest wall, and so was yours. "Let's see if we can track down Sejanus." He offers, holding his arm out behind you while he looks around.

He doesn't want to touch you for fear of making things weird, but god, would it just be so easy to slip his arm around your waist and guide you more effectively. 

"There." He almost doesn't hear you over the music and the shouting surrounding you both, but he follows your finger as you point over to the bar, leaning down closer in case you speak again.

Sure enough, Sejanus is there chatting with some local guy. Coryo sighs. "I leave him for twenty minutes..." He chuckles, shaking his head. "I'll get him, are you okay to wait here?" He asks and you nod, giving him that smile of yours that he hasn't seen all night.

"Good. I'll be right back." He promises, stepping away and through the crowd to go get your friend.

You watch him go, but your attention is drawn when someone pushes past you rather abruptly which makes you jump. The girl looks at you like you're crazy, as you expected she would, so pulling yourself together again, you find an empty table by the side wall and go to sit down. This was too much for you already; you knew that before you even walked in the door, but you were just here to see your friends. Coryo would come back, Sejanus would be with him, and Lucy Gray would sing her songs while you laughed and talked like normal people do. As soon as they returned, it would be okay.

You keep your head down until you hear them bickering over the normal sounds of the bar.

"We're not here to make friends, Sejanus, we're here to-"

"No, no, I get that, but what's the harm?"

You smile at them, taking a shaky breath. "Welcome back."

"Y/N!" Sejanus grins, looking at Coryo briefly before taking the seat across from you. "Glad you could make it."

"Me too." You nod, avoiding looking at Coryo as he takes the spot standing next to you, considering there wasn't another seat.

"Here," He says, voice low in your ear as he holds a glass out to you. "Got you a drink."

"Oh, thank you." You mumble, blushing as you take it from his hand. You can't think of anything worse than being intoxicated and vulnerable in this environment, but the gesture was nice. You wouldn't deny him that.

He rests his arm on the back of your chair, leaning on it and you rest your arms on the table so you can place the glass down as you look at Sejanus. "Tell me more, what have you been up to?" You ask, desperate for some conversation to distract yourself.

"Well, we graduated." Sejanus answers, nodding toward the boy standing beside you.

"Oh, gosh, congratulations!" You smile, looking between the two of them. Coryo is stone-faced.

"I sent you an invitation." He says into the rim of his glass, looking down at you.

"Oh?" You ask, and Sejanus nods in confirmation.

"We were hoping you'd be able to make it. We were going to come get you." He explains, and Coryo lets the glass scrape against his teeth. It was his invitation that he sent, and he was the one who offered to come get you. Sejanus had nothing to do with it besides encouraging him to actually send the letter.

"I didn't- I didn't get it." You tell them honestly, brow furrowed. "I don't know if I could have... gone back, you know, but I would have at least sent a gift, or something. I am so sorry."

Coryo raises an eyebrow. "You didn't get it?" He asks, almost relieved by the idea.

"No, nothing."

"Oh. Well, nothing could be done then, I suppose." He shrugs it off. Maybe if you truly hadn't received the invite, you haven't received any of the letters he sent. Someone along the route to the address he used decided you weren't worth looking for, and that wasn't your fault. Lucy Gray had told him as much, but he trusted it more falling from your lips.

"Truly, though, I am so sorry I couldn't be there." You say, looking between the two of them with a newfound urgency. You didn't want them to resent you, especially if they thought they had been ignored. "I didn't know, honest."

"Don't worry about it." Sejanus assures you. "We didn't want to be there either."

"But I did, I would have loved to but it's just hard to get out of Twelve and I wouldn't have anywhere to stay and like I said I'm just not ready to go back but I really would have loved to be able to be there for you."

"Y/N, hey..." Coryo chuckles, leaning down again to be face-to-face with you. "We get it. We're not upset with you, I promise."

Promise. The two of you were always making promises to each other, apparently. It made you feel better and he knew that.

"O-okay..." You nod slowly, deciding now is as good a time as any to try your drink. You turn your face from him, having been just inches apart to take a sip. Beer was far from your favourite, but you were never much of a drinker anyway. You place the glass back down and smooth out your skirt over your lap, regaining your normal grin. "Well, Fortune is merry, and in this mood will give us anything."

"Very good point." Coriolanus agrees quickly, tapping his hand on the back of your chair. The smile that crosses your face when you look up at him, thinking he understood and cared to respond makes him want to collapse in on himself and sink into the floor. You deserved so much more than being elated when someone understood you, and he could give you everything if you would just trust him.

"Y/L/N, how dare you show your face here!" A voice calls you by your last name and you snap your head in their direction.

Coryo furrows his brow, watching warily as a boy about his age walks up to your table. He's ready to step in, maybe this is why you hadn't been coming- because people, boys had been harassing you. He should have seen that coming. You were beautiful, every time he looked at you it was hard to look away again- obviously, this kind of attention would be a common occurrence. He lifts his shoulders and puts down his drink, but he looks at you and you're smiling.

"Hi." You giggle, actually giggle- and it makes Coryo almost just as angry as if this random guy had just threatened you.

He leans his elbows against the table. "Been a long time since I seen you. How you been?" He asks, sipping his beer as he makes dead eye contact with you.

"Only a couple of days, River." You grin.

"Oh yeah, that's right..." He hums. "Been real interested in that book you let me borrow, you know."

"Have you?" You smile, leaning in with excitement, ready to discuss it.

Who was this guy? A friend? Something more? The way you were looking at him, the fact that you let him borrow one of your books made envy swirl in Coryo's stomach. He hated it. He clears his throat to remind you they were there before you got sucked into talking about whatever book you gave the boy.

"Oh." You look up at him. "River, this is-"

"Yeah, who are these clowns? Botherin' you?" He interrupts you, and Coryo is more peeved about that than the fact that he was just referred to as a clown.

"Not in the slightest." You hum. "These are my friends, Sejanus and Coryo. They came all the way from the Capitol just to visit me, isn't that sweet?"

"Ah..." The boy hums, standing back up and holding a hand out for Sejanus to shake before turning to Coryo as he keeps his grip on the back of your chair. "Nice to meet you both, then."

"It's Coriolanus." He corrects you as he shakes the boy's hand, squeezing it probably more than what is polite.

"Oh wow." River's eyes widen and he chuckles, looking down at you again. "You're not really the friendly type I guess. Y/N here can make friends with just about anyone, I suppose."

"River..." You frown, shaking your head at him. Coryo clenches his jaw.

"I'm sorry! Sorry, I'm not great with new people either. That's my bad." He laughs it off, patting Coryo's shoulder as he drops his hand. "Anyway, Y/N, I didn't expect to see you out and about. Holdin' up okay?"

"I'm well. Thank you." You nod, taking another sip of your drink. River was a good friend, maybe even a great one. He works with your father in the mines, he started as soon as he turned eighteen a few months before you. You've become closer since then.

"Glad to hear it." He nods at you, looking around the crowded room. He bottoms his drink, shaking it in your face. "Time for a refill so I'm gonna leave ya be, but shout if you need anything, alright sweetheart?"

"Thank you!" You call after him as he turns to walk off, winking at you.

"Sweetheart." Coryo mumbles into his glass with a slight shake of his head as he watches the boy walk away. You didn't hear him, and he wasn't sure he wanted you to.

"Who's that?" Sejanus asks. "He seems nice."

"We went to school together, now he works with my father," You explain. "but I've known him most of my life. He's very kind, just a little... outspoken. He'll always tell you what he's thinking." You chuckle, and Coryo bites his tongue.

You catch his expression of disapproval. "He didn't mean any harm, just trying to be welcoming. He was nervous, I could tell." Returning your gaze to Lucy Gray up on the stage, you smile and give her a quick wave. She smiles back, nodding at you.

"You never mentioned him." Coryo comments.

"Well, I..." You stop yourself, staring down at your lap. "I had a lot on my mind..."

"Do you know anyone else? Give us the tour." Sejanus suggests quickly, pointing around the room.

You smile, forcing yourself to ignore your worries about how Coryo is feeling. "Almost everyone, yes." You giggle, covering your mouth with your hand as you speak.

"Is that why you didn't want to come?" Coryo asks you and you look up at him again, smile faltering.

"I- It's not that I didn't want to." You answer, fidgeting now with the fabric in your lap. "I just... I don't know. It's hard to... I don't know. Everything feels so difficult these days..." You laugh nervously.

There's that word he was so afraid of. Hard. In reference to something as simple as going out and spending time with your peers- people you had clearly considered friends before the games. It seemed like another lifetime to you, he could see it in the way you so intensely watched yourself pick at your own fingernails. He wished while laying in his bed at night that you were happy here, that your life was normal, even if he couldn't be a part of it; but that was unrealistic and part of him knew that.

"It's okay." Coryo reminds you quickly. "You don't have to explain yourself to us." He smiles, trying to be reassuring. "If you want to leave we can go. Just say the word, Y/N/N."

You shake your head, looking back up at him with that same glowing smile that subtly begs him not to worry about you- but he has to. "It's completely okay." You assure him with a quick wave of your hand. "Okay, so..." You drum your fingers on the tabletop, looking around and attaching names to faces.

"That's Sienna, I went to school with her sister." You point over to a girl in a group of a few others. "And she's with Fern and Hazel, Hazel's the one with the light hair." The boy's eyes follow where you're pointing as you look over at another group. "Oh, and over with River, the taller boy next to him is Rowan." You explain. "His little brother is friends with mine. Then over there, by the stage is Billy Taupe- that's Lucy Gray's boyfriend. Kind of, they're on and off these days."

Coryo nods, trying to commit these names to memory. He didn't plan on speaking to any of them, but if you wanted to, which he doubted, he would try. 

"And that's-" Your voice cuts out so quick it's as if someone had slapped a hand over your mouth when another boy walked up to join the two standing by the bar. Quickly Coryo is looking down at you again as the blood drains steadily from your face. You cough, shaking your head. "Uh, I don't really know anyone else's names." You lie.

"You okay?" Sejanus asks you and you nod, quickly grabbing your glass and taking a few large gulps, the foul taste of beer forcing its way down your throat. 

"Yeah, just, I haven't seen these people in a while."

Coryo watches, jaw clenched tight as River converses with the blonde boy who just walked up to him and your other friend whose name he's already forgotten. River takes a swig from his drink, laughs as he puts the glass down on the bar, and then points over to the three of you. He was telling whoever the hell that was that you were there- and clearly you weren't keen on him.

"Let's go, yeah?" Coryo suggests quickly, abandoning his drink on the table to step in front of you. He extends his hand to help you up which you gratefully take. He could feel your hand trembling in his. 

He squeezes your hand gently, still shielding you from the group of boys. You didn't need to say a word. "Sejanus, I'm going to take Y/N home, are you okay here?"

"For sure." He nods, looking worried now at the very sudden shift in your energy and Coryo's clear protectiveness. "Do you want me to come?"

"No, no. It's okay." You smile, comforted by Coryo's presence behind you. "You stay and have fun."

"Alright, well, I'll see you soon?" He smiles and you nod, but Coryo is already guiding you away.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @scorpiolystoned , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Hello, I'm back to drop more questions regarding the BSD x SAGAU work. 1. How is the relationship between the elemental monsters (like slimes or hypotasises), the cursed Khaenri'ah (hilichurls, the Abyss Order), Celestia, the Traveller, and the Fake Creator and Reader? 2. How much knowledge does the BSD cast have of Teyvat and Reader's identity? 3. How did the Reader disappear for the first time? 4. Is Teyvat self-aware? Is these too much questions? I hope I didn't cross any boundaries. Keep up the work! I'm really looking forward to your new works! Take care <3

Hello!

Don't worry, I am fine with answering all questions you have. And all these questions were fine.

Thanks for your support ☺️

1. 1. With elemental monsters: They can feel Echoes of Creator's powers coming from Reader. They don't attack Reader, listen to them. Reader have no reason to worry about fighting with them. Moreover, they would help Reader, if someone tried to attack them. But, if Fake Creator decided to go after Reader themselves, Elemental Monsters won't do anything to help. They won't help Reader or Fake Creator. For Elemental Monsters, both Reader and Fake Creator look like True/Real Creator.

1.2. Situation with hilichurls are similar to situation with Elemental Monsters. But, they can choose sides and can be manipulated. So, there are hilichurls, that would chase after Reader.

1.2.1. Abyss Order believe in Fake Creator. They are searching for Reader, helping humans hunting Reader. Abyss Order manipulate hilichurls into choosing Fake Creator's side.

1.3. Celestia is on Reader's side. They were True Creator's (First one) familiars, they knew, how exactly Creator's reincarnations will look like. They see Fake Creator as an abomination. A crime against First Creator.

That's the reason why Fake Creator destroy Celestia. So they won't tell the truth about Fake Creator.

Celestia is weak, but Celestia gods and Sustainer will give away everything they had to protect Reader.

1.4. Traveler are really confused. Both Reader and Fake Creator have similar auras. Traveler can't tell the difference between them. On one hand, there are poor Reader, who are love in fear of being captured. On second hand, there are Fake Creator, who helped their sibling. Who reunited Aether and Lumine. And Abyss Sibling want Reader's blood. So, Traveler are hunting Reader down.

1.5. Fake Creator hate Reader. Fake are sure, that Reader came into Teyvat to overthrow them. Fake Creator want to kill Reader and absorb their powers. Fake Creator will do anything to get all Reader's powers, even, if it means to do unspeakable things to Reader and their body.

2. For BSD Cast, Teyvat was a fictional world. When they still were in their own world, they were looking through other apps Reader have on their phone, they didn't feel anything strange coming from Genshin Impact. Moreover, they played in Genshin Impact (helping Reader with exploration, chests and oculus) while Reader were doing something else.

BSD Cast weren't interested in Genshin Impact too much. Until Reader disappeared, reappeared, and Capitano followed them.

After that, BSD Cast start looking for an info about Teyvat.

Katai, Naomi, Kirako, teens and kids (Karma, Kenji, Kuyoka, Kyuusaku, Aya, Elise, Sakura, Yuu, Katsumi, Shinji and Kousuke) are searching through Wiki, YouTube, Reddit, Tumblr, TV Tropes, looking for Genshin lore.

Others are traveling to Teyvat through the portal and spying on Teyvat people, learning about Creator.

So, they became knowledgeable about Teyvat and Creator.

They still not sure about Reader's identity. BSD Cast think, that Reader can be either Creator's reincarnation, or Reader simply look the same as Creator. There is no way for them to prove it or disprove. Reader's powers only work in Teyvat, and BSD Cast won't let Reader return there.

Reader's identity doesn't matter to BSD Cast. They love/like and cherish Reader. Reader were hurt. Someone must pay for that.

3. It was an incident. Fake Creator tried to search for more things, that were left from previous reincarnations, so they used a "spell" to transport everything, that have First Creator's powers in Teyvat. And Reader are considered part of "everything, that have Creator's powers".

4. Teyvat is Self-Aware to some extent. It can "feel", what kind of powers, both Reader and Fake Creator. It even can tell, who are real and who are fake. But, its powers are limited.

First Creator add a rule into Teyvat's 'soul', while creating it.

'Humans over all. You can never hurt them on purpose'

Teyvat also can't hurt any reincarnation of First Creator.

So, Teyvat's actions are careful and limited. It can't hurt people, who are after Reader. But, Teyvat can hide Reader, made others stop chasing you because of a bad weather. It can show Reader secret save paths.

Teyvat also can play small 'pranks' on Fake Creator, making them trip, or flooding their Cathedrals and Palace, freeze their gardens.

______

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters

[galaxiasgreen]

About Me

Hello everyone! My name is Green (she/her), I'm a Hufflepuff with a gremlin streak, and my hobbies include reading, writing, and collecting more books than I can read.

I primarily write humour, angst, fluff, and a bit of spice. At the moment all my work is Canon Character/ Reader OCs, who never have a name (only a nickname, no Y/N). I'm slowly working on porting everything over to tumblr, but you can check out the links to AO3 and Wattpad in the meantime.

As a quick note, I never copy game dialogue. Besides some iconic lines, all writing is original and entirely my own.

Tags & Info

My AO3 account and my Wattpad account have the most up-to-date archives of my work.

My writing (for all my fics and oneshots)

My oneshots (for all my oneshots not listed here)

My stuff (for all my fics, oneshots, game photos and posts)

Gibby | Prim | Missy | the bar girl (for specific characters)

ACVASverse (for all writing and posts relating to the stories set within the A Cruelty Vivid and Sweet universe)

Multi-Chapter Fics

🍭☀️A Cruelty Vivid and Sweet

In which, against the wishes of his staunchly pure-blood supremacist family, Ominis Gaunt befriends you, a naive Muggle-born Hufflepuff, and his life inexplicably changes. Or, what happens when a pure-blood from an anti-Muggle family falls in love with a Muggle-born?

[Ominis/Reader (Gibby), T-Rated, 127k, complete] A retelling-turned-original-story from Ominis’ POV that expands his role in the main questlines and beyond. Parallels his life story with relevant flashbacks.

Tropes: angst/ romance/ drama, slow burn, black cat x golden retriever, opposites attract, forbidden love, pure-blood culture, canon rewrite, book!canon compliant.

Trigger warnings: coarse language, familial abuse, comas, trauma, blood/injury, grief/death, torture, magical prejudice/ racism.

[Tumblr masterlist] [Tumblr link, AO3 link, Wattpad link]

🍺🖤This Hell We Create

The freckled stranger has been visiting your pub for three months now, drinking to forget the worst times. You might be the person he needs to remember the best.

[Sebastian/Reader (the bar girl), E-rated, 19k, ongoing] A short series following a Muggle barmaid and the freckled stranger who visits her pub every night. Trigger warnings vary per chapter. Completely unrelated to the ACVASverse.

Tropes: angst/ drama/ romance, eventual smut, wizard x Muggle, different worlds, dark secret, Magic from a Muggle POV, oblivious to magic.

Trigger warnings: alcoholism, coarse language, non-explicit sexual assault, dementia/ Alzheimer's disease, blood/ injury, gendered language, explicit smut.

[Tumblr masterlist] [Tumblr link, AO3 link, Wattpad link]

🐦‍🔥🍰Stay With Me

Garreth Weasley is good at Potions… and not much else. You, a bookish, lonesome Ravenclaw with a weighted family secret, are good at everything… except Potions. Assigned together for a mutual tutorship, Garreth is sure he won’t meet anyone more boring. But the potions lab isn’t the only place where sparks will fly.

[Garreth/Reader (Prim), T-rated, 111k, ongoing] A mystery-romcom following sixth-year Garreth Weasley when he is foisted a frosty and lonesome tutor hiding secrets of her own. Can be read entirely independently from ACVAS but does reference some of the events.

Tropes: romance/ humour/ drama, slow burn, fluff, tutoring together, grumpy x sunshine, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, pining, love triangle, dark secret, sworn off love, Everyone Can See It.

Trigger warnings: coarse language, blood/injury.

[Tumblr link, AO3 link, Wattpad link]

🥀🔮Shelter of Our Night

After being released from Azkaban for the murder of his uncle four years ago, Sebastian Sallow finally sees his chance to start anew. But when ancient magic starts to corrupt you, the Hero of Hogwarts and his long-time crush, Sebastian and you must face the vengeful spirit of Isidora Morganach, discovering the hard way that the shadows of one’s past never really leave you. Most of the time, in fact… they bite back.

[Sebastian/Reader (Missy), M-Rated, 48k, ongoing] A sequel to the game storyline where Sebastian went to Azkaban and the MC absorbed the Repository – with a piece of Isidora Morganach's soul. Directly follows the events of ACVAS but can be read separately.

Tropes: angst/ drama/ romance, slow burn, mutual pining, lovers in denial, Couples Who Kill Together..., second chance, childhood friends-to-lovers, redemption, dark secret.

Trigger warnings: coarse language, familial abuse, trauma, grief/death, murder, blood/injury, non-explicit smut.

[AO3 link, Wattpad link]

🦡✨Troublesome and Unladylike

In which, your life changes twice in quick succession: the first, when you discover you have magic, and the second, when you meet an enigmatic blind Slytherin.

[Ominis/Reader (Gibby), T-rated, 45k, complete] ACVAS from the Reader's perspective, with all original content and much lighter tone. Recommended after ACVAS, however you can read it separately.

Tropes: romance/ humour/ drama, slow burn, black cat x golden retriever, opposites attract, forbidden love, hijinks and shenanigans, Muggle culture, Magic from a Muggle POV, canon rewrite.

Trigger warnings: coarse language, familial abuse, comas, trauma, torture, magical prejudice/ racism.

[Tumblr link, AO3 link, Wattpad link]

Commissioned Art

👗❤️‍🔥 Garreth & Prim in Potions/ at the Valentine's Ball for Stay with Me [Lyworth]

💥⚡ Sebastian, Missy and Isidora Fight for Shelter of Our Night [yoshitsuno]

🖤🍺 Sebastian at the bar from this hell we create [FlamboyantJelly]

Thanks for checking out my work. You can support me by reblogging and/ or commenting, which are hugely appreciated 💚

[Last Update November 2024] Banner and divider credits: [-1-] [-2-] [-3-]

[hp-femslash]

Hello! Perhaps do you know of any Fleurmione fics with the veela mates trope that explores the veela and culture? Set during the school year if possible, before the war. I just really like fics that explore Fleur's inhuman side and everything that may come with it.

Hi!

Unfortunately neither of us are fleurmione experts but, we were able to enlist the help of the lovely members of the fleurmione server to put together this list for you!

Dusk of Summer, M rating, 86k

Dusk of Summer takes place during Hermione's fourth year at Hogwarts, the same year that Fleur Delacour visits the school in hope to compete in the Triwizard Tournament, and the same year they begin their love affair. This is an alternate universe, so possibilities are limitless. I must apologize for the terrible summary, but there's quite a bit more information inside.

Fleur De Mon Coeur, M rating, 141k

Goblet of Fire but in a different year. Fleur Delacour comes to Hogwarts to take part in the Triwizard Tournament not realising that her life is going to change drastically, by the simple presence of Hogwarts' All-Time Smartest Witch, Hermione Granger, who she finds to be her lifelong mate.

Entwined, T rating, 84k+

This is a promising story on fanfiction.net from 2010!

What We Are, T rating, 94k, WIP

The Triwizard Tournament brings new faces, new feelings, and new horrors to the grounds of Hogwarts. Hermione and Fleur are thrown into a muddled mess of agitation and attraction.

The Mortal Coil, M rating, 98k

Hermione couldn’t believe she had been so stupid. What a foolish and perfectly prideful thing to do. The brightest witch of her generation, gifted and sensible Hermione Granger, gave into peer pressure. She wasn’t going to. Not originally. Not until that bloody smirk. Now magically entangled in the Triwizard Tournament, Hermione must ensure her survival in the Wizarding World’s most dangerous game. But as her dreams become haunted by an omnipotent, mysterious force, the young witch must come to terms with her own mortality and learn to appreciate both life and love.

On Teenagers & Love, M rating, 160k, WIP

On the surface, things are not always what they seem. It takes a few study dates for Hermione to warm up to the girl she thought was the ice queen from Beauxbatons.

Veela Rituals - The Choice, T rating, 9k, Series

Hermione’s fourth year at Hogwarts was not going well so far, and it was only November. First, without the time turner, she had to choose between ancient runes and arithmancy. Then the Goblet of Fire had designated Harry as a fourth champion in the Triwizard Tournament. And now she had the distinct feeling that the French champion Fleur Delacour and her two cousins, Fabien and Aurélia, were following her everywhere. Was she becoming paranoid or was there more to their strange behaviour?

[romione-trope-fest]

One Bed

Fic Title: One Bed

Author Name: smjl/voldemorts-tap-shoes

Selected Trope: only one bed

Brief Summary: The horrors that the three of them—two of them more so than the other, though that’s neither here nor there at the moment—have faced so far on the horcrux hunt have been beyond Hermione’s wildest nightmares. The sight currently facing her is the worst yet.

One. Single. Bed.

Word Count: 2725

Rating: T

Any Trigger Warnings: none

***

The horrors that the three of them—two of them more so than the other, though that’s neither here nor there at the moment—have faced so far on the horcrux hunt have been beyond Hermione’s wildest nightmares. The sight currently facing her is the worst yet.

One. Single. Bed.

She’s only been in the loo for a few minutes. Just long enough to brush her teeth and change into pajamas. When she went in, there were three beds: a set of stacked bunks and a single, the same as they’ve had for months. Ron was outside, already on watch, and Harry was preparing to go out and relieve him. Already she was dreading the awkwardness of being alone in the tent with Ron. Not that he’s done hardly anything but look at her since he’s been back—damn him and that look, the look that says ‘I just poured my heart out to you in front of Harry and you haven’t even heard the half of it yet’—but one could cut the tension between them with a slicing charm.

And now this? Where are they supposed to sleep? Because that’s the only thing to do, really, since she’s certainly not ready to talk to him yet, and though she might be ready to do other things with him—in theory, anyway—her heart has put a firm Impedimenta on those thoughts too.

She finally notices Harry leaning against the kitchen island sipping on a mug of tea, his eyebrows raised in amusement over the rim of the cup. “What the hell is this?” Hermione demands, gesturing wildly at the space where their perfectly acceptable sleeping area used to be.

Harry continues to drink his tea with an infuriating degree of slowness, and Hermione thinks that she might just serve him up to Voldemort if he doesn’t explain himself soon. “This,” Harry says, setting the mug down with a dull thud, “is me getting the two of you to talk to each other.”

“You have no right to—”

“To what?” Harry interjects. “Make sure my best friends don’t kill each other? You haven’t left me much choice.”

Hermione stalks across the room, her hair crackling with fury. Harry circles the island, dodging her attempts to get her hands on him and wring his neck. “Harry James Potter, this is not funny!” she exclaims, finally surrendering to the fact that he’s faster than her. “You put it back right now!”

The tent flap rustles behind her, followed by Ron’s confused voice. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Hermione snaps without looking at him.

“Er…what happened to the bunks?”

“Nothing,” she says again, gritting her teeth as she fumbles for her wand.

Hexing Harry with it is tempting, but the more pressing matter is fixing the bed situation. Hermione brushes past Ron and points her wand at the offending furniture. “Finite.” Nothing happens. She takes a breath and tries again. “Finite incantatem.” Still nothing. She tries Geminio, Engorgio, everything she can think of, but the single tiny bunk remains resolutely unchanged, mocking her with its narrowness. She lets out a groan and turns back to Harry, ignoring Ron’s continued presence. “What did you do to this thing?”

Harry offers only a smirk in answer, clapping Ron on the shoulder as he passes him. “See you two in the morning.”

Hermione clenches her wand so tightly she’s surprised it doesn’t snap in her hand. Ron, against what must be his better judgment, gently pries her fingers from around the wood and sets it on the counter beside her. Under normal circumstances—even what was normal before he left and turned her entire world inside out—she would have given him an earful for taking her wand from her, no matter how good his intentions might have been. At the moment, though, she’s too distracted by the fiendfyre his touch has sent racing up her arm, threatening to consume her.

“It’s not a big deal,” Ron says, already moving away from her, blissfully unaware of the effect he has on her as she remains frozen. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

He has his boots kicked off and his jumper tugged over his head to fling across the arm of the sofa before Hermione manages to recover. “I suppose you think you’re very clever, getting Harry to do your dirty work for you,” she snarls at him. Anything to distract herself from the glimpse of his pale skin that she got a moment ago when his t-shirt stuck to his sweater as he pulled it off, revealing a smattering of freckles and a trail of ginger hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his joggers. She needs to think of anything but that.

Ron merely quirks an eyebrow at her before flopping onto the lumpy cushions of the sofa, his legs dangling off the end almost from the knee down. Before, he would have gone toe-to-toe with her, told her she was barking mad, and they’d have had a row that set her heart racing in more ways than one. Now, he doesn’t rise to the bait; it feels wrong. “I didn’t have anything to do with it, Hermione.”

His pale lashes brush his cheeks as he closes his eyes, signaling the conversation closed even as he shifts and squirms on the sofa, trying to get comfortable. Hermione allows herself a final huff of annoyance as she crosses to the single bed and extinguishes the lights in the tent.

Whatever spell Harry put on the bed, he neglected to do anything similar to the bedding, leaving Hermione no choice but to sleep under Ron’s blanket, her head on Ron’s pillow. Despite her anger, she can’t help but drink in his scent, that familiar woodsy, spicy aroma with just a hint of something sweet, as if he’s always got a Chocolate Frog in his pocket.

The bed is more comfortable than it was before, too—some sort of cushioning charm, maybe, that Hermione wishes she’d thought of herself when they first landed in the woods—and she feels a pang of guilt at the sound of Ron still fidgeting on the sofa.

You didn’t do this. It’s not your job to fix it.

She’s thinking about the bed, of course, but the same could be said of her relationship with Ron. They had formally declared exactly nothing about their feelings for each other before he left, but it was there. She knew it was. It was infused in every innocent brush of their fingers as they studied maps and books together, in the way he said her name, in the way he looked at her. Different than the look he gives her now, but equally weighted with emotion and things unsaid.

But then he left. Gone, in an instant, without a second thought or backwards glance at her. In her more clear headed moments throughout those interminable weeks, she thought it mustn’t have been about her. He’d rowed with Harry that night; he was tired, hungry, worried about his family. Not that that was an excuse—they all were feeling all of those things—but she tried to tell herself that his feelings for her were a separate issue.

Are they? She doesn’t know. He nearly said as much the night he came back—damn if his story about the deluminator wasn’t the most romantic thing she’d ever heard—but she’s been too hurt to hear more. And besides, they’re still on the mission that spawned their hesitation in the first place. If there were no Voldemort, she thinks they’d have been properly sorted last summer, enjoying their seventh year at Hogwarts, maybe as Head Boy and Girl. Their own living quarters with plenty of privacy for—no, don’t go there.

Instead they’re here: Hermione wide awake staring at the canvas ceiling of the tent; Ron tossing and turning on the sofa across the room. She wonders if the lumpy cushions are the only reason he can’t sleep, or if perhaps his brain is torturing him with this same line of thought—or worse. He’s hinted at something more with the locket, some particular brand of malice that the cursed necklace saved just for him.

But she hasn’t been ready to hear more about that either. It’s a waiting game, like always. Waiting for her heart to give her permission to let him back in, or for Ron’s newfound patience with her to give out and for him to force his way back in. She thinks she’d be okay with either, honestly; on a fundamental level, she appreciates the space he’s given her since he’s been back, but it also feels like a hollow shell of their relationship. It doesn’t feel like them.

“Ron?” she calls tentatively. She doesn’t want to rouse him if he’s actually fallen asleep, though she’s fairly certain from the sound of his breathing that he hasn’t, and his answer comes without missing a beat.

“Yeah?” She hears the hope in his tone, and it twists her stomach into knots. Only once or twice has she addressed him directly since his return, and she knows they’re both wondering if maybe the ice is beginning to thaw.

“Whatever Harry did to the bed…it’s more comfortable now.”

A soft snort comes from Ron’s direction. “That’s nice for you.”

“Do you want to share?”

There’s a moment of loaded silence before Ron asks, “Share what?”

She could only possibly mean one thing given the context, but she doesn’t blame him for asking because it’s such a wildly ludicrous suggestion that she also can’t possibly mean that. “The bed.”

The tent is so quiet that she’s sure Ron can hear her heart pounding, hear the way her breath hitches when his blankets rustle and his feet touch the floor. His steps are slow and methodical as he approaches the bed, full of hesitation. He stops at the edge of the mattress, and suddenly his wand is in her face, though there’s humor in his voice when he asks, “Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione Granger?”

Hermione swats at his wand and rolls her eyes. “Very funny,” she retorts, injecting her voice with as much sarcasm as she can muster. Her heart is leaping in her chest, screaming at her—This! This is what we’ve been missing!—but she’s determined to let sensibility win. She hasn’t forgiven him, and she frames the suggestion to share the bed as a matter of logistics. “You’re no good to anyone if you don’t get some sleep, and this bed is still plenty big for the two of us.”

Plenty big is a gross exaggeration, but it’s big enough. Hermione slides all the way to the inside edge of the mattress and turns on her side, away from Ron. It takes several long minutes for Ron to follow, sliding under the covers beside her inch by inch, as if he thinks at any moment she’s going to roll back over and hex him. That’s probably a fair assumption, considering their history, but it’s not something he has to worry about tonight.

Once settled, Ron lays stiff as a board at the other edge of the mattress. She’s slept on the bunk beneath him for long enough now to know that he is a deep but restless sleeper, always unconsciously moving or rolling over or kicking the blankets off or pulling them back up through a ceaseless chorus of snores. Tonight, there is none of that. He is still not sleeping.

Neither is she, of course. The palpable tension building in the small space between them is almost unbearable. This was a stupid idea she had. So naturally, she blames Ron.

“Will you relax?” she hisses over her shoulder at him, as if his sleeping in the bed beside her is a perfectly normal occurrence that shouldn’t have either of them so wound up.

“If you want me to be comfortable, then you need to relax,” Ron fires back. “This was your idea.”

“Well, if you’re not comfortable, then you might as well just go back and sleep on the couch.” Hermione flops over onto her back and gives Ron a hard shove in the arm to move him in that direction. He’s so close to the edge of the bed that he almost tumbles off it, but he catches himself and rebounds back toward her, his eyes flashing with irritation.

“Hermione, what the fu—”

The swear dies on his lips as he realizes the position they’re now in, one of his hands on either side of her face as his body hovers above hers. Her palm lands feebly against his chest, a ghost of the initial impulse to push him away, and she feels his heart thundering against his ribs. Neither of them moves, too terrified that the next decision they make is going to be the wrong one, and a different but familiar tension settles over them.

Ron seems to be even more frozen than she is; the only movement is his eyes flickering across her face, searching for an answer, and Hermione knows that she has to be the one to decide where this goes next. She could still push him away, and he would go without a fight.

She doesn’t want to push him away.

Her fingers curl into a fist, pulling the fabric of his t-shirt into her grasp. “I’m still mad at you,” she says breathlessly. She would hate how desperate her voice sounds if she had any brain cells left functioning to care about such things. As it is, they’ve all abandoned their posts to focus on the way Ron’s eyes seem to darken with every passing moment and the attempt to catalog the exact shade of pink of his tongue as it darts out to wet his lips.

Ron gives a tiny nod in answer. “I know.”

“And this is not why I asked you to share the bed.”

His laughter vibrates against her hand. “I know that, too.”

“But I missed you,” she admits in a whisper. Ron’s expression softens, and the way he breathes out her name, his husky voice caressing every syllable, pushes her over the edge.

Hermione tugs firmly at his shirt to pull him down to her, and any lingering hesitation between them vanishes as their lips crash together. It’s impossible to doubt Ron’s feelings for her when his mouth is on hers, hungry and insistent after so much time spent holding back. She notes with some amusement as his tongue seeks hers that he tastes a bit like chocolate too, which should be impossible since there hasn’t been any in the tent for weeks but doesn’t totally surprise her.

She meets every move he makes and matches it with equal fervor, letting her hand drift up past the stubble on his cheek to tangle in his hair, pulling him even closer. Ron groans softly as he drops his weight to his elbows, engulfing her. Now that they’ve started, Hermione never wants to stop kissing him, but her lungs are beginning to protest, and she forces her lips away from his with a deep gasp for air.

The rapid rise and fall of Ron’s chest tells her he has the same need, but he doesn’t pull away from her completely, alternating his breaths with soft kisses to her cheek and then her neck. “I’m sorry, Hermione,” he murmurs, pressing the words into her skin. “I’m so, so sorry.”

His apology puts a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes. She knows he’s sorry for leaving—she does, she knows—but it doesn’t make the pain go away. Still, she takes a deep breath and tugs his face back to hers to look him in the eye when she replies, “I know you are.” It’s the best she can do right now. She’ll forgive him eventually—she’s probably further along that path than she wants to admit, already—but it’s going to take time.

Ron seems to understand, his nose brushing against hers as he nods and leans in for one more gentle kiss before rolling off to his side. “Reckon we should put the beds back?”

Even if Hermione knew how to, she’d rather not. At least, not for tonight. She shakes her head and snuggles up against Ron’s side. He settles the blanket over them both, letting his arm curl around her shoulders as she whispers, “In the morning.”

[norefs]

Gen (non-romantic) fics recs: DC, Dysfunctional Batfamily

Fandom: DC, batfam. Theme: Dysfunctional Batfam This trope is kinda close to the Bad Bruce one but it's not quite the same; a Bad Bruce often is a manipulative bastard in control of everything, or just uncaring, while to qualify for this trope Bruce (or another family member) has to genuinely try and still be objectively terrible - and not just comically bad at communicating either; it usually references the several canon instances where Bruce knowingly inflicted severe physical injury to Jason, or beat his kids (or the various assassination attempts between siblings); usually also involves complex siblings dynamics. And they fucked up, and they still love each other so much but they don't really know how not to hurt each other and they're trying so very very hard and they're learning.

(… maybe don't read all of them in a row though, I don't think that could be good for anyone)

to the red planet Mars, by r_astra (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27613958) 6/6 Chapters, 36,912 words Not Rated, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Main Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, the rest of the batfam

Official summary: Tim doesn’t notice the Batmobile roaring into the cave until the tires squeal as it skids to a halt. He starts, splashing long-cooled coffee across his lap as he lurches upright. Bruce is practically throwing himself out of the driver’s seat. He stalks around to the back of the car and Tim stares, confused. The trunk? He calls out. “Mask?” Bruce grunts a negative. Tim circles the car in time to see Bruce haul something—someone out. They’re big, but not quite as tall as Bruce, clad in black Kevlar and brown leather, wrists cuffed. Tim stops in his tracks when he recognizes the man. It’s Jason Todd.

Why I love it: This is about Bruce and Jason's relationship. This is someone going hey. Look at those canon events. If you stop and think about it, that's fucked up. And I love fics that look close like that at canon. And the characters in there are Not Okay - it's a story about abuse - but it's never hopeless. Because they're trying so hard to make it right and they've fucked up a whole lot, but they (the whole family) love each other and they're trying.

Excerpt: “We’re going to the cave.” Hood jerks his head up. “Hell, no.” Bruce starts walking towards the Batmobile. “No,” Hood repeats. “No way. I’m not allowed in Gotham, remember?” “Hn.” Bruce keeps walking, the pressure in his head building and then easing as Hood must start following. Hood doesn’t respond, but Bruce can hear him swearing under his breath in one long, continuous stream. When they reach the Batmobile, Bruce pulls out a pair of cuffs. “Seriously?” Hood sighs. He holds his wrists out anyway. Bruce slaps the cuffs on and checks to make sure they adjusted themselves correctly, then grabs Hood by the elbow and starts dragging him towards the back of the vehicle. Hood must be processing slowly, because he doesn’t start fighting until they get within a yard of the trunk. Bruce wins.

--

An Aquarium of Nameless Things, by husborth (https://archiveofourown.org/works/18308171) 4/4 chapters, 14.120 words (has a very good second work in the series at 45k more, with a wider batfam sample; the second work is technically unfinished but stops at a satisfying place) T, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson

Official summary: After a difficult case, Jason learns a few things about Bruce, and deals with them about as well as Jason deals with anything.

Why I love it: I like this interpretation of Jason and the Pit, with Jason trying really hard to keep a lid on it but also being emotionally 15 (I know nothing about emotional development I just once read the phrase "emotions too big for his body" and liked it), and swinging between actually dangerous/hurtful and siblingly petty. And them all being in over their heads and Bruce not healed yet (never healing) from Jason's death and a Dick, over-protective of Bruce, who never really knew Jason before, and the crushing weight of responsibility. They just feel so strongly.

Excerpts: “You’re an annoying prick who didn’t even eat all of my ravioli, which you stole,” Jason said into the phone. “[…] Also my carpet smells like mildew, so if you want to come shampoo my carpet in apology for your whole everything, that’d be great.” - “No,” Dick admitted. “But it’s my turn. Bruce almost died of an oxycontin overdose in front of me. Did you know that?” Jason’s face turned red and hot and got tight—liar, liar, liar, pants on fire, the fire licking at his legs in just the millennium he lay there dying, sucking air through bloody lungs. A lie. A sham. He’d been tricked, Bruce had tricked him, Bruce had made him think he cared but this was a lie, these were all lies. He would die, he would pass in a storm before him, and Jason would be left to root through the garbage, he’d be—the dogs were barking loud and they tore his heels bloody. “No,” Jason choked out. “I didn’t.”

--

never be the first to believe, by ohnomydear (https://archiveofourown.org/works/17967926) 15/15 chapters, 98.132 words T, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Ric Grayson

Official Summary: If Bruce 'made up' with Jason at the diner following the events at Sanctuary, the Red Hood shouldn't be reluctant to ask Bruce for permission to be in Gotham for a necessary surgery. Instead, Jason kidnaps Tim and asks him to make sure Bruce doesn't know he's in Gotham. Yeah, nothing about this sounds like they've forgiven each other.

Why I love it: That one is ostensibly about Jason and Bruce, and the aftermath of the big fight where Bruce beats Jason all to hell. But it's also (more so, imo) about each of the siblings' relationships with Jason, and with Bruce. Yay for Robins banding together against Bruce. People talking past each other, contradicting POVs, and what forgiveness means/looks like. Also this one has an amnesiac Ric, which creates fun character dynamics.

Excerpt: “How did you get me this far?” And whose car was this? “The truth, or would you like a face-saving lie that we can both pretend to believe?” Tim groaned and reached for the coffee. “Which board room did I fall asleep in?” “Your office. For once. But intern Jared noticed and called the car company, which showed up in record time.” Jason gestured with one hand at the car around them. “And then they ‘took you home.’” “Why not just wake me up?” Tim hissed. “And don’t even get me started on how I don’t have an intern Jared and I’m really suspicious that he and the car company driver look astonishingly similar.” “Guilty. And as Bruce has always said, if Tim falls asleep on patrol, it’s because he made poor decisions about how much sleep he needed.” Tim gaped at him. “He—he doesn’t say that.” “No, he doesn’t.” Jason grinned. “But let’s say that I say it. Now, to business. Sorry I didn’t get the copies of the agenda printed first, but I was busy finding a wheelchair to get you out of the building.” Tim dropped his head into his left hand, groaning. “You realize I do have to go back there, right? And explain what that all was?” “That doesn’t sound like intern Jared’s or Driver Ulysses’ problem. Both of them are more concerned with finding their respective missing twin brothers – and solving the terrible murder of their mother, which took place ten sad, sad years ago.” Great. He’d made up backstories for covers with a four second half-life. Tim took a sip of the coffee and found it passable. “The agenda?” “You know I’m not allowed in Gotham.” Jason’s voice had gone flat, as if the humor had just dropped out of it.

--

How Far Love Goes, by BeatriceEagle (@flybynightwing) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/31871722) 11/11 chapters, 99.549 words T, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Main Characters: the whole batfam

Official summary: Plenty of family reunions end in fighting. Not that many end in explosions. A mass Arkham breakout brings all of Bruce's children home, and with them, all the drama, secrets, and anger they've been keeping for years. Amidst rising tensions and a mysterious new threat in Gotham, the family has to work together to round up the rogues—and confront their feelings about each other.

Why I love it: A main plot peppered by tasty flashbacks (that inform our understanding of the present) of batfam interactions through twelve years, ranging from cute to heartrending. Complex relationships web that actually includes the girls too (Babs and Steph and Cass!).

Excerpts: “How about Nightwing?” said a voice from above, and then Nightwing somersaulted from the branches of a nearby tree, landing lightly on the ground beside Cass. Batman pivoted half a degree to face him. “Oracle called you too?” “Of course she did, B, there was an Arkham breakout.” “It’s handled.” Nightwing crossed his arms. “Handled like it was last time?” Batman mirrored Nightwing’s stance. “It’s handled.” “Excuse me, but I don’t feel like standing by and watching you get your back broken ag—” “Go back to Blüdhaven. They need you there.” Batman spun around and stalked away. Nightwing stared after him, his body leaning in the direction Batman had gone, like he was about to run after him. Then he slumped backward. “Unbelievable. Just unbelievable.” He turned to Cass. As always, his body language screamed awkwardness when he spoke to her. Even facing her, he angled his shoulders away, like he didn’t want to be in this conversation. “Is he letting you help him?” Cass shrugged one shoulder, deciding that was better than trying to put the mess of hers, Barbara’s, and Batman’s stand-off into words - [flashback from Dick's Robin days] Then, for the first time since they'd begun their stakeout, movement beside him. Dick looked over. Batman's hand stretched out towards him. In his gauntleted palm, a single yellow M&M. Dick looked up. Batman's face was unchanged. But the M&M was obviously for Dick, right? He picked it up gingerly, as if it were explosive. (And given that it had come from within Batman's cape, who was to say it wasn't?) Eyes still on Batman, Dick put the candy in his mouth. Just chocolate. No explosions. Batman's hand withdrew back into his cape. A moment later it emerged with another M&M. Green this time. Dick took it and grinned.

[stardustizuku]

Part 1: The Love Square. Why it worked, and why it failed.

People who aren’t as interested in Magical Girls as I am, specifically Magical Girl Animes with Romance, may not understand why the Love Square was such a big deal. Why it was the core; the life of the series.

Okay, so how many times have you seen a love triangle unfold? Quite many, I must guess. Some really good, and some, uhm, not so much.

In Magical Girl Animes they’re common – and the most popular ones have one very particular dynamic. Let’s run down it, shall we?

Our main character falls in love with another man, someone unreachable, unattainable. It’s someone she genuinely looks up to, and is most likely popular already.

I call this character “The Prince”

In Princess Tutu, it’s Mytho. In Shugo Chara it’s Tadase. In Tokyo Mew Mew it’s Aoyama. Sailor Moon has Motoki Furuhata in Season 1, and Mamoru in Stars.

He is the type of guy you want to fall in love with. Nice, kind, good-natured, a good leader, pretty and everything.

There’s one issue, though. The person who our Main Character’s crush likes is not her, but her alter ego. Mytho is in love with Tutu, not Ahiru, Tadase is in love with Amulet Heart not Amu. The one she becomes thanks to super natural magic.

Then, there’s the opposite. I like to call them the “Rebel” character.

You know who I’m talking about. The Ikuto, the Kishu, the Fakir or even Seiya of the story. They serve to be a contrast to the “Prince”. They’re often times, the only one who gets to see through the MC’s disguise and comes to understand her. “Rebel” characters are rarely in love with alter ego, but instead feel attraction to the MC or the “real one”

These are all fan favourites characters that fall under the “Bad Boy” trope. And for good reason.

Bad boy characters are popular with little girls, teen girls, women or even AFAB people in general since they call out something in our society. There’s very real pressure put forth by either parents or society to adhere to certain gender roles, and what they mean.

In other words, you’re “supposed” to be a good girl.

You have to get good grades, you have to smile all the time, you have to be polite, and you have to play nice. A bad boy character in fiction allows the viewer (in this case and for simplicity) girls to push back or be rebellious in a very safe way.

You don’t have to be good, you’re just following the steps of a bad guy with a heart of gold. He will help you break out of your shell, and be more confident. You get to feel like you’re trying to be the good girl society tells you to be, while finally exploring these darker aspects of your personality.

In YA and more mature books, this can involve anything from trying alcohol, having sex, or allowing oneself to be angry (exploring the “bad” or “not good” emotions AFAB people are always told they shouldn’t have).

But in audiences more aimed towards children, like those in Magical Girl animes, shoujos or tween cartoons, they exist in a more subdued way – although still tapping into this idea of rebellion against the status quo.

That’s why these characters are fan favourites.  

So, to summarize. You have the MC in love with a “Prince” who in turn is in love with the Perfect Girl version of the MC. And a “Rebel” who is in love with the Real Version of the MC, flaws and all.

This particular dynamic is used as a thesis of sorts in any good story. Only by understanding both the real and idolized version of the MC can a man can “win” the love of our protagonist. And only by our MC knowing who she is, what her alter ego means, or how she relates to these dichotomies, can she understand herself.

And really, depending on how each show tackles its themes, it can have different answers. Tokyo Mew Mew offers the idea that the Prince is the correct option, while Princess Tutu says it’s not. Then there’s those with open endings such a Shugo Chara. Again, they use the dynamic, the thesis of their characters, to come to a conclusion that neatly ties to the theme.

Princess Tutu, for example, ties the ideal version of Mytho with the tragedy of a fairytale. Ahiru has to let go to be able to reach a conclusion. In Tokyo Mew Mew Ichigo sees her flaws (the cats ears) as something someone as perfect as Aoyama could never love – yet he shows he isn’t perfect and that he loves her with or without the perceived flaws she has.

That said,

It’s exactly why I loved Miraculous Ladybug when it first aired. It managed to boil down this interesting dynamic into the Love Square. The perfect and the real, the idolized and the true.

Ladybug represents the perfect version of Marinette. Adrien represents the perfect version, while the real one is Chat Noir. Chat was both the “Bad Boy” and the “Prince” all in one. Both Marinette and Adrien were in love with the “Perfect” or Idolized version of each other.

This was something never before seen. It would make for amazing content, right? Explore why we prefer an idolized version of someone, realize that true love means caring even when you’re not perfect. What our perceived “flaws” meant to others, and if they were truly flaws – or if our environment was the one teaching us they were. The possibilities and themes were limitless. We could have had something great-

No.

Sorry, we. We didn’t get that.

What we got were padded episodes, new love interest that refused to deal with this complexity, and a stagnant rship that refuses to explore any of the flaws of their characters - why they’re not perfect, or even a reason why they stay in love

This is why the Love Square fails. This, is the core of why and how it works. People can expand upon this in million different ways, but you inevitably come back to this.

The real and the idolized. The want vs the duty. The expectations and the responsibilities.

Instead of having an episode where Marinette realizes that Adrien isn’t perfect, that he isn’t a model 24/7 or that he has flaws, secrets and fear just like anyone else, we got Kagami.

Instead of Chat realizing that Ladybug isn’t perfect, that she isn’t always composed, that it’s just a persona put forth to feel more in control of a situation, we got Luka.

Both characters that I love, but they bring very little to the themes the Love Square was introducing, to begin with!

More focus should have been put in how these two bounce off each other.

How much better would the story had been if we got to see Marinette and Chat have a conversation? The two very flawed, very real, very confusing version fo these characters, just trying to understand each other.

And by the way, this is exactly why MariChat is the most popular dynamic.

Marinette acts like a girl. Scared, confused, and lonely. She isn’t a hero, she isn’t her perfect version. She is just Marinette. While she can put the mask on, at the end of the day, it’s still just a mask. And Chat? Well, we get to see him. Not the model, not the paper cut out, but a silly kid who wants to break free from a life of imprisonment by the parent who’s supposed to love him.

We get to see something real.

But, unfortunately we do not get that.

Their relationship stays static. The reason for this is a bit obvious.

The writers, to my opinion have come to this bizarre conclusion:

Developing this dynamic would mean changing dynamics, ending the status quo morphing the story into something new. And they assume a “new” means an “end”.

They’re thinking that the endgame is Adrien and Marinette realizing their identities, so they don’t wanna develop it for fear of bringing an ending “too close”.

Say you have 7 seasons prepared, you can't have them find out their identities in season 5 because their reveal should be in season 7. It should be the last couple of episodes even. After that, they'll date and it's over. So better drag this on for seasons on end.

This just proves to me: flawed writing skills and lack of direction.

WHICH wouldn’t surprise me seeing how Chloe ended up.

It is plain bad writing. Changing stuff doesn’t necessarily mean an endgame is near. It just means things are changing.

I’ll be mean to this series and compare it to the Magnus Opus of Magical Girls: Sailor Moon

Sailor Moon got together with Tuxedo mask in the first season, yet the writers were able to up the steaks of their relationship through its 5-season run: Through memory loss, a long distance romance, anxieties of hurting one another, or simply…developing their relationship. People change. And so does how they interact with other people.

These created amazing episodes that highlighted how much Usagi and Mamoru loved and cared for each other. It wasn’t just chance, it wasn’t just fate. This took work, it took time, and it took trust. This wasn’t something so easily lost. That’s why SailorMoonStars hits the hardest.

In the very last season, Usagi is in a long distance rship with Mamoru. And it breaks her. We see that she misses him, dealing with the turmoil of him not answering her messages. She’s devastated, seeking comfort in other people, but unable to forget him. Not even as Seiya begs her to take him instead of Mamoru, can she bring herself to give him up– because they’ve been together for a long, long time. And we’ve seen that.

We see her reminiscent. We see her break down and cry because he hasn’t called her. We see her thinking of him when she’s with Seiya. We see her be in love with him and we see how much it affected her that he’s ignoring her.

And by the last few episodes, we get a payoff. We find out Mamoru is dead, and that he died confident that Usagi would be strong enough to protect the Earth in his stead. That he believed in her, and he thought of her until the moment he died - uttering her name as the last thing he could do.

That’s why when Sailor Moon defeats Sailor Galaxia, the woman who killed the man she loved, through purification and not violence – it all feels right.

It’s a very simple but powerful story, packaged in 45 episodes. With enough room to breathe, digest it, but not drawn out enough for it to be annoying.

All this, when the relationship was already established. We could have had something like this in Miraculous Ladybug, if the writers WERENT drawing out the reveal and get together until the very last second!

ChatBlanc could have been an AMAZING multi-episode mini-arc.

No time-travel thing. They find their identities, they date for a few episodes, something goes horribly wrong, and Marinette has to find a way to fix the mistakes she's made. Much like Sailor Moon R.

Maybe by the end of it, she fixes it but sacrifices most of her memories. The only thing she recalls is that she knew Chat's identity, Paris almost got destroyed, and that leads to her putting distance between them.

Or maybe one day she wakes up with the memories of Chat Blanc and spends and entire season trying to know what happened, and when she does, she's horrified.

Idk, million amazing things could have been done with this episode to further develop these two's relationship. Complex, interesting, beautiful things.

But no. Because, apparently, thinking of love post-reveal is too much. Instead, we watch them run and run in circles. Chat Blanc was a single episode, and half of it was time travel shenanigans.

And all of this, just because the writers don’t actually know what they want to do with the love square. So they add new rivals, new teams, new accessories, side plots - all to avoid touching the actual core of what made the series great.

It strongly reminds me of Star vs. in that scenario the creators also weren’t sure where to take the show.

It wasn’t until season 2 where they started the subplot of Star realizing Mewni colonized Monsters that it started having a sense of self. And it showed in the romantic subplot, which was all over the place. They didn’t know what they wanted, so the romance in that show was a mess. Lack of direction and intention, aside from the knowledge that Star and Marco were the end game

I personally don’t hate Star vs. I don’t like how it handled romance but I will give it much leeway because the actual plot of Intergenerational conflict and coming to terms with the harm your ancestors have done to others - is quite compelling and not something I see tackled often.

But Miraculous does not get that. Its episodic plot is simple and refuses to get into the murky waters of its own premise.

The only thing it had going was The Love Square. Because I assure you, very few people give a crap about the Miraculous being stolen.

So, their lack of willingness was the first thing to ruin the Love Square. Fine.

But it’s not the nail on the coffin. The real reason why this suffered, was something that happened waaaay before all this.

Because one thing that the show refused to explore up until late into season 3 and start of season 4 was the specific parts of the “Ladybug” character. What I mean is, what “ideal self” she is as “Ladybug”. And how her existence affects Marinette. This is the fundamental flaw that issss...

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[sanjoongie]

Gonna catch you

🏹Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x reader (f) 🏹Au: hush inspired au 🏹Trope: established relationship 🏹Word Count: 1,049 🏹Rated: +18, MDNI 🏹Warnings: prey/predator, roleplaying, mentions of blood, knife play, foreplay, penetrative sex without a barrier, dom!hongjoong, sub!reader, degradation, denied orgasm, cum shot 🏹Summary: when you and your boyfriend decide it's time to play masked killer chasing his victim, and his prize when he catches you is.... 🏹Dedication: @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland the unholy trinity beta team and the spooky bitches whomst I write this shit for 😆

It feels like every branch, every root, all the vegetation is attempting to slow you down. They pull at your hair, scratch at your exposed skin and trip you up at every moment. Adrenaline pumps through your veins but its origin is the fear that’s racing through your heart. You are fleeing for your life--but will you keep it?

A haunting laugh follows your ragged trail and you let out a choked sob. If you could hear his laughter, he must be closing in on you. You let out a frustrated noise but continue to push on. You refuse to let him win; refuse to give him the satisfaction. 

Something whizzes by your face and you feel a sharp pain on your cheek. Fuck. The masked killer was shooting his crossbow at you now. The arrow must have been what cut you. Your fear pushes you forward still, even when your energy should be all but drained by now. 

“I’m going to catch you,” The masked killer taunts you now. “It’s only a matter of time.”

His timing is impeccable, a loose rock aiding in tripping you up and you land hard on the ground. Bits of dirt and rock dig into the palm of your hand stung but you scramble to get your feet back under you and to begin running again.

“Aha!” sounded from behind you and you knew you were fucked. You are pushed further into the ground, fully horizontal. You can hear more than feel as the killer’s knife drags down your clothes, only exposing more of your skin to the cool night air.

“Having fun yet?” Hongjoong whispers into the shell of your ear hotly.

Goosebumps litter your skin and your breath quickens. “I thought I was going to win this year,” You can’t help but pout.

Hongjoong laughs again, still a sound that gives you chills and shudders. “I don’t think so. I enjoy this part a little too much.”

Your soft t-shirt is ripped in two, right down your back. Your leggings ripped down the seam of the crotch for easy access. Hongjoong chuckles once again, this one a sadistic one that makes you gush even more than you already are. He blows some air towards your wet pussy and you whine. 

“Besides, you like this part just as much as I do,” Hongjoong teases you.

You press your lips together stubbornly, refusing to rise to his bait. It only manages to rile Hongjoong up, however. “You won’t be silent for long,” He says in a sing-song voice laced with displeasure.

Hongjoong sheaths his knife and takes the butt of it and runs it along your wet folds. It takes everything in you to not make a noise but your hips betray you, moving backwards against the stimulation. 

“You like that, kitten?” Hongjoong coos mockingly from behind you, “Like that my knife that tore open your clothes is about to get you off?”

The wetted stag antler covered in many layers of resin rubs against your puffy clit and you let out a small, helpless moan as he circles your nub. You can see your own breath come out in cloudy puffs as he plays with your body. Your back arches as you seek for more but too soon, Hongjoong is pulling his knife away from your body, not before sneakily licking the hilt before stashing it at the small of his back.

“Time for my prize,” He growls possessively. 

You hear the quiet jingle of his belt buckle and the whoosh of his zipper and then the soft nudge of his cockhead against your pussy lips. “Gonna take what’s mine,” He growls again and then fights his way inside of you. He takes his time, using shallow thrusts to push open your walls. You’re wetter than need be, but that doesn’t stop your pussy walls clenching down on him every inch into you.

“Ho-hongjoong,” You mewl, twisting your arm back in an attempt to grab him and push him inside of you, more than eager for him to fuck you now, at this point. 

Hongjoong has none of it, however. He’s not ready to break the scene. So he grabs your wrist, wrenches back your opposite arm by wrist as well, and finally sits fully inside of you. He uses the leverage of your arm and his hips and begins a grueling pace inside of you. 

Now, you have zero resistance and your mouth lets out a low moan that echoes into the forest. The way Hongjoong is grunting behind you, the quiet ache in your wrists as he abuses your pussy, it all simply turns you in; the entire reason you agreed to this in the first place. Hongjoong had a chase fantasy and you liked the illusion of a safe place to pretend to be taken advantage of. The thrill flat did it for you both. 

You feel shame and embarrassment heat up your neck and cheeks, however, realizing that you’re about to come horribly quickly. Hongjoong is just hitting that spot inside of you every time he thrusts, and it’s pushing you closer and closer to the edge, you close your eyes, bracing for the moment--!

And then Hongjoong promptly pulls out, jerks himself off onto your bareback and you’re left with an aching cunt just shy of an orgasm.

“You--!” You’d curse at him if only you had more energy.

Hongjoong laughs behind you. You hear a shing behind you and you realize he’s taken out the blade again. You can feel him play the sharp edge along your spine and you freeze. 

“I think you enjoyed that a little too much, kitten,” Hongjoong said in a husky voice, “Wanna try for round two with some knife play?”

You swallow and find there is no moisture in your mouth. When you take too long to answer him, Hongjoong slaps your ass loudly. “Well?!” He demands impatiently.

“...Yes?” You squeak.

“Better get running then,” Hongjoong says in that mockingly sweet, sing-song voice again.

You groan, pushing yourself up in an attempt to get on your feet. Hongjoong was going to be able to catch you even quicker than the first time, but, the excitement of him using the blade on you in a different way spurs you on.

[mediaevalmusereads]

What Moves the Dead. By T. Kingfisher. Nightfire, 2022.

Rating: 4/5 stars

Genre: horror, novella

Series: Sworn Soldier #1

Summary: When Alex Easton, a retired soldier, receives word that their childhood friend Madeline Usher is dying, they race to the ancestral home of the Ushers in the remote countryside of Ruravia.

What they find there is a nightmare of fungal growths and possessed wildlife, surrounding a dark, pulsing lake. Madeline sleepwalks and speaks in strange voices at night, and her brother Roderick is consumed with a mysterious malady of the nerves.

Aided by a redoubtable British mycologist and a baffled American doctor, Alex must unravel the secret of the House of Usher before it consumes them all.

***Full review below.***

CONTENT WARNINGS: dead animals, disturbing imagery

OVERVIEW: This is my third Kingfisher book. After being disappointed by Paladin's Grace and lukewarm on A Wizard's Guide to Defensive Baking, I figured I'd see if something more spooky would be more to my taste. Fortunately, it was; the humor I disliked elsewhere in Kingfisher's works was toned down in this novella, and the creepiness factor made What Moves the Dead a delightful Halloween read. There are some things I think I can criticize, however, which is why this book gets 4 stars from me.

WRITING: Kingfisher does a wonderful job in this novella of making the atmosphere feel oppressive, unsettling, and downright eerie. I loved the way she described the house and the surrounding area, and I loved the descriptions of the smell of mushrooms and the odd movement of animals.

I also appreciated that the humor was a bit more restrained. In the past, Kingfisher's humor has been not for me; there are still some moments of lightheartedness and sarcasm in this novella, but I personally found them more tolerable.

PLOT: The plot of this book follows Alex Easton, a career soldier who makes their way to the house of their childhood friends, the Ushers. Madeline Usher has fallen gravely ill, and her brother Roderick seems to be little better. But when Easton discovers some odd ecological behavior around the estate, they begin to suspect not all is right in the Usher household.

I respected that this story was a retelling of Edgar Allan Poe's Fall of the House of Usher, and after reading Kingfisher's author notes, I was impressed by the creativity and nuance that she picked up on.

I also enjoyed the overwhelming sense of dread and the way Kingfisher made the ecology of the world unsettling. I've read a few books where the (spoiler) has been the culprit of a few spooky events, but the horrifying way things were described and the overwhelming sense of terror was top notch, in my opinion.

I do have some criticisms, though, which prevented me from giving this novella a full 5 stars. In my opinion, I think there were some moments where Kingfisher could have held back. There are some scenes when things are explained to the reader a little too bluntly, and while I can understand not wanting to leave anyone confused, I think holding some things back would have heightened the terror much more.

CHARACTERS: Easton, our protagonist and POV character, is generally amiable and has warm intententions towards the Ushers. I enjoyed the world and society that Easton came from; they come from a culture where there are many more pronouns than in English, so Easton is a kind of trans/nonbinary/queer figure. I do wish Easton held back a little more humor, though, as some of it jarred me and took me out of the horror, but on the whole, Easton was fine as a protagonist.

The Ushers were delightfully unsettling. I loved the way Kingfisher plays with the Gothic tropes of the source material and makes everything all the more disturbing. I also liked how there seemed to be genuine affection between the Ushers and their friends, and their attitudes towards their ancestral home were helpful in making the narrative spookier.

Denton, the American doctor, was also useful in that he lent some outside perspective. The constant jabs at his Americanness were amusing at first, but I personally got tired of them as the story continued. Still, it was helpful to have someone there with whom Easton could converse.

Miss Potter, the mycologist, was an utter delight. I loved the expertise and enthusiasm she lent to the story, and her unflappable attitude was a nice contrast to Easton's and Denton's near-panic.

TL;DR: What Moves The Dead is a delightfully unsettling retelling of The Fall of the House of Usher. Though I wish more humor had been restrained and I think Kingfisher could have held some things back to heighten the horror, overall, this was a good read for Halloween and a novella that is sure to delight Gothic fans.

[roonyxx]

The Raven: Part 10

Summary: A new threat to the world brings the boys back in action. She is big and bad, very bad. But is everything as it seems or is there more to her story?

Pairing: Dean x reader

Trope: enemies to lovers

Word count: 3955

Chapter warnings: language, angst, smut (18+ only!)

A/N:  The end is here, thank you all for following along this journey. I loved writing this chapter :)

The Raven Masterlist

My Masterlist

Buy me a coffee

-Three months later –

My life now mainly exists out of research and sleep. It has been three months since I last saw Y/n and I can feel the effect of it.

The loneliness, the emptiness, the hurt… it is horrible.

Sam and Cas have been helping me, we checked every book on time lines, time alternation, time avoidance, so many more things I can’t even remember.

“Dean… what if there isn’t another way. I mean, she would have found it if there was one.” Sam says.

“There has to be something.” I sigh and lean back in the chair, sipping my whiskey. I won’t accept a life without her.

I looked for her, I even went to her little house in the woods but it is abandoned now, I don’t know where she is. She could be anywhere in the world.

Cas went to see if Heaven could find her but no. He also informed them that she won’t raise an army of the dead as long as they keep the current time line, they reluctantly agreed.

So that leaves my plan B, a plan I initially didn’t want to use but now have too.

I get up and start looking through the books.

“You still organize them in alphabetical order?” I ask my brother.

“Of course, why?”

My finger traces over the spines of the books, focusing on the titles; Vahanas, Valkyrie, Vampires, Vetala,...

Ah Visata.

We only have one small book on it, a handwritten journal of an old man of letters, and it contains about thirty pages. Sam and I must have read it a hundred times by now, but something stood up to me.

Leaving through the book I stop when I find what I need.

“We read it a millions times Dean, it won’t help us. It has things we already know or rituals that are useless.” Sam speaks up when he sees me going through it again.

“Not completely useless.” I answer when I find the ritual I need. I turn the book upside down and slide it towards Sam who is sitting opposite of me.

“A bonding ritual?” he looks up at me, “How can this help us?”

“What if we can tie her powers to something, to keep me from dying?”

“To what? And she won’t even agree to be bonded.”

“You’re not gonna like what I will say.” I start and see his worried face.

“To what…”

“To me.”

I could have guessed she was hiding in New Orleans, the city of Witches. We were able to track her with a spell in the journal.

Everything is ready for my plan B, everything except for convincing her.

It already took two weeks to convince Sam and another week to gather everything for the ritual itself.

All we need now is her.

“You’re nervous.” Sam notices.

“Of course I am. I’m about to see my wife who is more powerful than god and asked me to stay away.”

“She won’t hurt you.” Sam says.

“I know, I’m more worried about her not agreeing.”

Sam sighs, “I am still not 100% on board with this, Dean. It’s crazy.”

“Isn’t crazy what we do?” I say with a small smile and knock on the bayou house.

Please be here…

She opens the door. She’s wearing long leggings and a t-shirt with, thanks to Sam, a bullet hole in it. She looks normal for the rest, sunglasses on, hair loose. She did loose some weight and looks a little pale.

Seems like I’m not the only one that has been suffering from our separation.

“Hi baby.” I say with a small smile.

She slowly shakes her head.

“Dean… you’re making it more difficult than it has to be. You really want me to take your memories?”

“I found a way.” I say and watch her frown.

“There isn’t another way, I looked everywhere.”

“There is.” I hand over the journal with the page marker set to the bonding ritual.

She hesitantly takes and opens it, reading what is inside. She starts shaking her head and closes the book. Sticking out her arm, she’s handing it back to me.

“No.” is all she says.

“What- You didn’t even hear what I have to say!” I argue.

“I’m not getting bonded to something. If I am losing you the last thing I want is losing my power.” She starts to close the door but I stop it by slamming my foot in between.

I know she could snap my foot right off with this door but she just sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Not something.” I push open the door and look her in the eyes, “Someone.”

She frowns, “Someone?” she shakes her head more.

“I don’t want to share my powers. Most people wouldn’t even survive it, the person has to have only good intentions, because these powers can not fall into the wrong hands. I would tie my life to theirs so if I die they die or vice versa. I don’t trust anyone enough for that. And they can’t be human, they have to be a witch or-“

“Or a vessel, of an archangel, that would be sufficient.” I cut her off.

She’s staring at me and I see it click in her mind.

“What.” She snaps, “What are you saying.”

“You know exactly what I am saying, baby.” I say with a grin.

Her head turns towards Sam who has been quiet all this time.

“You agree to this?” she asks him.

Sam takes a deep breath, “I do.”

His answer surprises me, only minutes ago he was telling me that he wasn’t fully on board.

“He’s not happy, I can see it eating away at him. And if this is really what he wants, what will make him happy, who am I to say no?” Sam reasons. “He’s also extremely stubborn.”

I can’t help the chuckle from escaping my throat.

She looks at me, “You could die during this ritual.”

“The chances are small, we did our research.”

She pushes up her sunglasses and grips my face, her hands transforming onto long black claws. They press into my cheeks but they don’t cut. Her eyes dance over my face, looking, searching for a reason to send me away, to deny me.

“I miss you, Y/n.” I whisper to her. “I want my tomorrow back.”

I see her mask crack and break, her eyes welling up with water.

“You’re such a selfless, reckless dick.” She says but I can see a hint of a smile and I just know that she’s starting to consider it.

“I’m your selfless, reckless dick.” I smile and glance down at her lips, I want to kiss her so badly but I can’t.

Not yet.

She lets my face go and opens the door fully so Sam and I can go inside.

“You prepared the ritual? You have everything?” she asks us when we step inside.

“Everything but a witch.” I say.

“You have one.” She answers.

“You’re actually doing it?” Sam says in wonder and I’m glad he asks because I also need to know for sure.

She holds up her hands, “Let me look more into it, see if you two did everything alright and then… if Dean still wants too… yes.”

The next five hours we go over every single detail of the ritual. Where does it have to preformed, at what time, the position of the moon, the stars and the sun. the weather also counts. She makes sure we got all the right ingredients and the right order to put them together.

And then, the bonding. This is the only part Sam and I didn’t understand, we hope Y/n does.

“The book doesn’t go into detail about the bonding part. It just says ‘the next and last step of the bonding ritual is to preform the joining.’ What is it?”

A blush crawls over her face, “Ah” she says.

“Ah? Ah what?” Sam looks at her.

“The joining is an old term for a ritual with a primal base, as in … sex.” She sheepishly looks up at me.

“Oh. So we need to have sex during the ritual to make it work?”

She nods.

“So Sam helping us out is maybe a bad idea.” I say next

“Yes also because we will uhm…” her blush grows redder “We will produce pheromones and he might get attracted to it and will want to join.” She rushes out quickly.

I turn my head to Sam, who is looking a little green now.

“You get the fuck away from us.” I tell him.

“Oh yes, don’t worry.”

A little giggle escapes her lips, “One Winchester is already overwhelming, but two-“

“Do not finish whatever you’re saying.” I cut her off and wrap a hand around her neck, “You’re mine.”

“I-“ her eyes drop to my lips and she licks her own before biting down on it.

Fuck… it’s taking everything in me to not replace her teeth with mine…

Sam clears his throat, “Guys… keep it for tonight.”

We both snap out of it and I let go of her neck.

“How will I not die when we get… intimate?” it’s something that’s been floating in my head since she said we need to have sex to complete it.

“The ritual will keep you safe, if it works. There is still a small chance that my powers won’t accept you.”

“I know the risks, baby. I’m ready to take them.”

She just gives a little nod.

“So sunset is when you guys start?” Sam asks, “I will put everything ready. You two get ready. I’ll be gone by the time you two start.” He looks at me.

“Please be careful… I don’t want to loose you.” Sam says.

“You won’t loose me.” It tell him.

We hug tightly and then he leaves to set everything up.

I turn to Y/n.

“It’s my turn to go?” The ritual has to be in the middle of the woods.

Y/n found a space near here and explained the way to me and Sam. It’s a soft meadow surrounded by trees and has a little pond. We need to be as close to nature and the primal instincts as possible. So for this to work, I need to find her in the woods, ‘capture’ her and bring her to the meadow to claim her as mine.

Doing it all naked.

“Yes, you remember what you have to do?” she asks me.

“I do.”

The sun has set and all I can hear are the birds whistling their last song for today. I am searching my way through the thick forest and sure as hell hope that I find Y/n soon.

It’s not cold, but definitely not warm enough to be running around naked.

Let’s hope I don’t run into anyone but my baby.

It’s been an hour since I left her. I asked where she would leave to find her more easily but that’s not how the ritual works. I have to do it all by myself.

So I keep my breathing controlled and my steps light to hear my surroundings.

She did say she could use some tricks to help me.

And I smile when I smell her trick.

Jasmine.

Quietly I follow her scent, growing more eager with every step I take until I see her.

My breath catches in my throat at the sight of her. She hasn’t spotted me yet.

She is like me, stark naked. Her hair is loose in the wind and her skin almost glows in the early moon light.

Gorgeous isn’t enough to describe her.

Slowly I make my way to her, step by step, I come closer.

My whole body is preparing to catch her. My hands itching to touch her skin, my lips tingling for a taste of her, and my dick… well, let’s say he’s more than ready.

I am so close I can hear her breathing. I use the shadows to slip and hide in them, but I step on a particularly dry stick and it snaps under my foot.

Her head turns into my direction and I can see just a hint of a smile before she sprints away from me.

With a deep chuckle I leave my hiding spot and run after her.

Her breaths are fast and high pitched, but every time she look over her shoulder at me, I see that smile. It makes me run faster.

The road is becoming familiar and I know she is running towards the meadow, I know I have to catch her before she reaches it or it won’t work.

I can see the green grass poking through the trees, I run faster. She’s testing me. I know she is.

The trees grow thinner and the reflection of the moon upon the pond is lighting up the whole meadow, it is beautiful.

Right before her left foot touches the soft grass, I wrap my arms around her waist and lift her up in the air, I run with her into the meadow and everything becomes warm and silent aside from our ragged breathing. This place is definitely magical.

Flipping her in my arms I let her slide down my body until we are face to face.

“You almost ruined it.” I pant at her.

“I knew you would catch me in time.” She smiles as she wraps her legs around my waist and I nearly go to my knees when I feel her core snuggled against my pelvis, her arousal forming a wet patch on my skin.

“You like being chased, baby?” I grin and lick my lips as I make my way to the middle of the meadow.

“I like being chased by you, especially naked.” She lower her face to my neck and starts placing hot, wet, open mouth kisses on my neck.

My cock twitches against her ass and she smiles, lifting herself up enough to trap my cock between my tummy and her pussy. She then torturously starts to rub along the length of me.

“O-oh fuck.” I hold her tighter against me and lay us down on the grass. I look down at her.

She’s looking at me, her pupils blown wide, her hair all spread out around her head like a halo. She brings a finger to her lips and sucks it into her mouth before dragging it down her body until she reaches the apex of her thighs.

I’m on my knees between her legs, looking at how she teases her own clit.

My cock starts to throb and leak, I wrap my hand around it and start pumping it tightly and very slow.

“Do you feel it, Dean?” she mewls while arching her back as she sinks two fingers inside her.

And I do, the smell of her all around me, the parts of her skin that are touching mine are burning, the pressing warmth of the meadow. The desperate sounds she is making.

We are in heat.

“Yes baby.” I moan and watch her pleasure herself. I could stay here forever.

“Dean.” She moans my name while her other hand starts squeezing her boob, her nipples taut with hormones.

I bend over her and take one of them in my mouth, sucking hard on it. Her hand lets go of her other boob and sinks into my hair, tugging on it hard enough to make me moan.

“Dean” she moans again, “T-touch me.” She pants.

I push away her hand and replace it with mine, sinking two fingers deep into her heat, stretching her out. She arches her back into me and I let her nipple pop from my mouth to watch her face.

Slowly I start pumping my fingers, loving to see her squirm.

“M-my clit, please Dean.” She begs me.

I put my thumb on her clit and add a fair amount of pressure on it. My fingers are slipping in so easily and the sound of her slickness is filling the meadow.

“S-so wet,” I bend to lick the side of her neck, “All for me?” I ask her with a husky voice.

Her hand wraps around my forearm that is pleasuring her and she nods enthusiastically.

“D-don’t stop.” She starts rolling her hips and I let her ride my hand to take what she needs. When her squirming becomes more urgent I fasten the pace of my fingers plunging inside her.

“Y-yesyesyes.” She praises me, and I can’t decide what I want to see more when she comes.

Her face contorted in bliss,

Or her pussy gushing her arousal over my hand?

It won’t be the last orgasm I give her tonight, so for now I will choose her pussy.

“More.” She breathes out and I smile.

If she wants more, she will get more.

Pushing my fingers as deep as I can I start to roughly vibrate my hands, simultaneously rubbing that sweet spot inside while harshly rubbing her clit.

Her entire body arches while her thighs begin to shake around my hand. Her mouth is shaped in an ‘O’ but no sound is leaving her lips.

She throws her head back, taking a deep breath, she moans loudly and starts to gush over my hand when she comes, her inner walls clamping over my fingers.

“DEAN” the grip she has on my arm bites and I can feel her nails digging into my skin.

I’m panting with her when she rides out her high. I slow my hand and let her breathe when her body turns limp. Retracting my fingers, I look at how they’re covered in her slickness.

I suck my middle finger inside my mouth and suck her juices right off, a low grumble rolling in my chest at her taste.

I can feel her eyes on me and smile around my finger. I pull it out of my mouth, then I bring my pointer finger to her lips and make her suck it clean. Her eyes rolling back at tasting herself.

I take my hand back and grip her neck, leaning down over her to look in her eyes.

“You know what you taste like?” I ask her.

She shakes her head no and I can’t help but smile at how sinful she looks.

“You taste like mine.” I moan before capturing her lips in an all devouring kiss.

She moans into my mouth and her hands slide into my hair to tug me closer. Every inch of my front is pressed against hers, and I start to rub against her core.

She’s so slick between her thighs, I would almost think we’re in the pond.

“Put me inside, now.” I growl against her lips.

Her hands slips between our bodies and grabs hold of my cock. She grips me so tightly and starts to pump my length, her fingers teasing my tip.

I let out a strangled moan and fist my hand in her hair, tugging her head back to look at her.

“Inside, now.” My voice is so deep, my chest vibrates against hers.

With wicked smile she does as she is told, putting my tip at her entrance and I finally push home.

I groan when her walls hug me tightly, even with the preparation and her being soaked, I can feel the stretch of her around me.

“S-so tight.” I moan.

“Y-you’re just so big.” She chuckles ending in a moan when I push deeper.

I bottom out and she arches her back to accustom to the stretch of me.

I sit up on my knees and put my hands on her hips.

“Look at you.” I say when I take all of her in “All flushed and wet, so ready for me.” I drag my hand down her body.

“All mine.”

I look in her eyes.

“Say it.” I accentuate my words with a sharp thrust that makes her gasp.

“A-All yours Dean.”

I start thrusting into her, deep and slow. Enjoying the drag of her tight walls along my shaft. I look down and watch how well she takes me. How she squirms when I slowly pull out and see my cock covered in her arousal. There is a white ring of her juices on the base of my cock and I grin when I spread her legs wider, pushing them slightly towards her chest.

“You can take me deeper, baby.”

Changing my angle I push in and go deeper, until that ring disappears into the soft hairs curling at the base of my cock and grind into her clit. Her strangled moans are like music to my ears.

“Such a good girl.” I groan when I see how well she takes me. I move my eyes up and watch her face.

She’s sweating, panting and her eyes are black with need, but her smile is what nearly makes me cum right here and now.

I lean over her, and kiss her deep. Thrusting faster, grinding every time I go in.

The kiss is all teeth and tongue, too sloppy to be considered a kiss, we’re both panting and moaning into each other’s mouth.

“I’m close, baby.” I warn her while speeding up my pace.

She wraps her legs around my waist and starts chanting the words for the ritual.

Her own climax is building inside her body, I can feel her body grow taut and her walls hugging my cock.

“Keep going.” She rushes out between the foreign words and I do as she says.

She starts to glow a bright yellow, almost golden light. Her purple dark smoke tumbles out of woods as if it had been waiting there all this time, waiting for a call of it’s master.

The smoke envelops us but I keep going, I am not afraid. The smoke starts to slide over my legs and it feels like a cool blanket thrown over a burn.

“Now” she whispers just before falling of her edge and gushing all over my cock as she comes around me.

“I, Dean Winchester, claim you Y/n, until we are nothing but dust among the stars.” I rush out the words to finalize the ritual and come so deep inside her, filling her up with hot ropes of cum, so much that I can feel it dripping out of her and down my balls.

I moan her name, and it feels like I am roaring as her golden light seeps into my skin and burns through every single nerve and cell of my body.

Her legs and arms wrap tightly around me and keeps a hold of me while the light keeps seeping in.

Her smoke is a wild storm around us, warning of anything close to not come near.

Slowly I come down and the light between us dims and her smoke sinks softly into the ground.

Panting I look at her, she’s still glowing softly, I cup her face and smile.

“It worked.” I pant.

“It did.” Her smile is radiant, “Look.” She lifts my hand and I can see the same kind of glow covering- no coming from my skin.

“Woah” I say in amazement and look at myself and her.

“That’s awesome.” I breathe out.

“I will learn you how to deal with your powers. It won’t be complicated.” Her hand brushes my chest and little gold sparks follow her wake.

“With great power comes great responsibility.” I say with a dorky smile.

She chuckles and grabs my face to kiss me deeply and with all her love.

“I love you, Dean.” She whispers against my lips.

“I love you too, Y/n.” I say back with a smile.

Forever Tags 2023: @jay-and-dean @flamencodiva @snowlovespie @awkward-and-indecisive @hobby27

Dean tags 2023: @akshi8278 @pink-sparkly-witch @verytoadpapersoul @eevvvaa

The Raven: @deans-spinster-witch

(uninteractive tags - meaning: no reblog or comment - have been deleted from my list)

[aparticularbandit]

Of A Fatal Captivity: Day Five

Summary: When do they decide that she can’t leave? That they’re going to keep her there no matter what she wants? That’s the day her captivity begins. Is that today?

Some of you will think that this beginning is a gimmick. Up to you! Think what you want! (It’s not a gimmick more than anything else in writing is a gimmick, which is to say, of course, it’s a gimmick, because that’s all writing is, really, isn’t it? A bunch of gimmicks? Some of them more successful than others? Isn’t that why we have tropes? The trappings of a Tragedy to tell us whether that’s really what the story is or not? (Do you know the story you’re in?))

Enough games.

You’re here for something better than that.

Or: Junko Enoshima’s factory reset may or may not be going as planned, and Ryoko Otonashi has plenty of things to say about that. Or will, once she realizes what’s going on.

Chapter Rating: T. Fic Rating: M for Danganronpa reasons.

AO3

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Book One

Day Five (of a Cloying Despair).

She has nothing.

Which is especially infuriating, since Junko left that note in her notebook about putting all the pieces in place for her, because that means if she remembers everything, then she should be able to figure this out; which further means if she can’t figure it out, then she must not have remembered everything yet, which is even more infuriating because she can’t even begin to know what it is she hasn’t remembered.

(How much of that would she remember if Junko hadn’t fucked with her brain?  How much of what is missing is so because she’d already forgotten it in the first place?  What if she has remembered everything she can remember, and Junko was wrong to believe she would figure all of this out?  What if Junko made a mistake?)

Junko needed her for something.

Kyoko hasn’t been able to figure out exactly what that something is, because in everything up to this point, she wasn’t a necessity, she was an accessory.  Kept around for some nebulous thing that Junko never specified because she could be so obtuse.  Like it was better to manipulate people into the places she needed them to be in, instead of being upfront and honest about what she needed them to do.

Show off.

Or maybe Junko just suspected – correctly, in most cases – that if she was actually honest about what she needed people to do, they wouldn’t do it.  Whether that’s because it involved murder or because they simply didn’t want to do what Junko wanted – considering who was asking them – doesn’t matter.  What matters is getting the pieces in place for whatever it is she’s planned out.

If Kyoko’s honest with herself, she doesn’t feel particularly inclined to just follow along with whatever it is Junko wants either.

Considering.

This is just a moment where those desires happen to align.

Junko wants Kyoko to find her.

Fortunately for her, Kyoko wants to find her, too.

She’s still divided on why and what she’ll do when she gets there, but that desire to find her is there nevertheless.

That’s the end of it, really.  Junko needs her for something, and Junko expects Kyoko to find her, and the two desires are likely intertwined, likely linked, but beyond that, Kyoko has nothing.

All the places are in place for you – bullshit, Junko.  There are no pieces!  Just a fucking end goal with no way to get there!  If you want a detective who specializes in kidnappings and finding people who have been lost, then who you really want is—

Dead.

Kyoko stares at the blank page of her notebook with nothing but those two bullet points written within.  Glares at them, as though that will make them spawn like rabbits or dust bunnies or…or some other metaphor that doesn’t involve the sexual habits of some soft, fuzzy rodent.

(It doesn’t do any good, and now all she can think of is how Yui would be able to do this so much better than she did, how Yui found her almost immediately when she was kidnapped, how Yui is the detective Junko needs right now, not her.  Yui would never have given in to the thought that Junko was definitely dead.

But Yui isn’t here.

She’s here.

A detective trying to stop a murder before it can take place.

Lico would be better, too, but who knows where he is.  Probably dead, too.  Which makes her the only one left.)

Junko, if you want me to find you so desperately, then where are the clues?

Nowhere.

A lot of commentary on how she’s going to die, which is great and all, but not exactly helpful.

(And Kyoko isn’t going to think about that again, isn’t going to think about what Chisa said – severe brain damage and acute memory loss and probably permanent memory loss as a result of the severe brain damage – because the important thing to remember is that if Junko said Kyoko would see her again, eventually, then she will see her again; if Junko told Kyoko to find her after Ultimate Despair took her, then that means there is still a Junko somewhere left to be found, not just some pale imitation of her completely bereft of everything that made Junko Junko.)

Future Foundation probably has a map with suspected locations of the ringleaders of Ultimate Despair.  Maybe, if she finds that, the locations will seem….

Maybe one of them will trigger something.  A memory, maybe, or some sort of clue.  She’ll at least maybe have something more concrete than a nebulous find me with nothing attached to it.

(There are only so many locations Kyoko could look for Junko with an abandoned school building.  They are not in a school building anymore.  When she could be hidden anywhere in the entire world, there are significantly more places to look.)

((Junko is probably close.  Closer than she realizes.  That’s almost more infuriating.))

….

It seems like it would be too easy to tell Future Foundation to look for the giant Monokuma.  (It seems like it would be too easy to believe that they already had – or that they’d already tried to follow it.)  That means either that there are multiple giant Monokumas (terrifying and frustrating in equal measure) or that Future Foundation, despite Chisa saying that they were keeping an eye on Hope’s Peak during (and after) the Killing Game, let the Monokuma that literally broke into the old building go without any sort of—

Kyoko sighs.  Kneads her forehead with the tips of her fingers.  Either she and the others have been taken in by a group with serious inadequacies or Junko’s Ultimate Despair are far more effective at what they do than she might have initially thought.  That said, this is Junko’s group.  Given everything she’s seen Junko do, why would she think she wasn’t capable of this, too?  Why wouldn’t she think that Junko found the most capable people to maintain her war in her absence?

“If Mukie and me are truly Ultimate Despair, then who’s driving the car outside?”

Mikan Tsumiki, apparently.  Mikan Tsumiki and Nekomaru and Kazuichi.  Survivors of the class above her.  Chisa’s class.  Who were apparently supposed to be dead.  Drawn under Junko’s wing because she….

Because she cared about them.

Which really marks Chisa as suspicious, too.

That’s beside the point.

No.

That’s exactly the point.

How better to avoid Future Foundation’s attacks than to have someone on the inside?  Someone high up enough to take in the survivors of the Killing Game when they were finally able to get to them?  Who would want to know when any of them were close enough to figuring things out to—

Is that what that conversation was?

Does Chisa know that Junko intended for Kyoko to find her?

That’s too risky.  She can’t – she won’t – make that assumption.

However.

However.

Stop.

Kyoko can feel it, can feel the faulty assumptions and flaws in her logic as she races from one thought to the next, everything hooking together in a way that would most benefit her.  Junko didn’t leave her any clues as to where she might be, so she’s searching for them under every rock and in every cranny.  But that doesn’t mean that every potential clue is a clue.

She’s a better detective than this.  She’s acting like a child.  Less than a child.  Her first successful case with the DSC was during her first year of middle school, but—

My specialty is murder cases, Junko.  Not kidnapping.  You want Yui for that.

But she can’t have Yui.  Because Yui is—

Kyoko clenches her hand into a fist.  She has nothing.  And now she’s just going in circles.

Junko expects too much from her.

(No, she doesn’t.)

Junko would tell her to take a break.

Junko would tell her to get out of her head.

Junko would tell her to go spend time touching grass.

There’s no grass anymore, Junko.  That’s your fault, isn’t it?

And she can hear the response, clear as day, as though Junko were in the room with her, although there’s no way she could be:  “Sometimes you gotta break a few eggshells to make a crème brulee.”

Kyoko scowls.  “Crème brulee?” she mutters under her breath.  “That’s the first thing you think of?  Not an omelette or scrambled eggs or something simpler?”  She glances up, and it’s like—

Junko lounges on the bed, one leg crossed over the other just at the ankle, in the cutaway pajama shirt, half black and half white, and the red polka dot black boxers that just match the bra of her war outfit.  Her head tilts to the side, pink hair half in waves down her back, the sides pulled up in a fancy braid.  (She looks like Galadriel. She is no Galadriel.)  “Why would you want me to make things easy for you, Kyokyo?  You’re a detective.  That’s, like, the epitome of likes hard things.”  She snorts.

“Don’t say it.”

“I wasn’t going to!”  Junko sticks her tongue out.  Then she examines her bright red nails, averting her eyes as she says, “Besides.  Crème brulee means I get to use a blowtorch, so obviously that’s the best answer.”  She pulls out a nail file and points it in Kyoko’s direction.  “Duh.”

This time, when the knock at the door comes, Kyoko doesn’t want to turn towards it because that means turning away from the Junko she so clearly sees atop her bed.  If she looks, Junko will be gone.

Junko is already gone.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Junko asks as the knocking continues.  She slowly files one nail to a sharp point, sighs, and then looks up again, meeting Kyoko’ eyes.  “Might be something important.”

“Important to me?”  Kyoko holds her gaze.  “Or important to you?”

Junko just rolls her eyes.  “I’m not even here, Kyokyo!  And you can’t avoid him forever.  He obviously wants to talk with you, so just—”  She makes shooing motions with both hands.  “Go talk to Hope Boy.  Then you can come back and play pretend with me again.  I guess.  Although the real me is so much better than whatever this is.”  Her eyes light up, and she grins.  “Wait!  Kyokyo!  You’re fantasizing about me, aren’t you?  That’s what this is!  Oh, I could have fun with—”

Kyoko turns away from her and goes to the door.

Makoto stands on the other side, his hand lifted as though to knock on the door again, eyes widening when it actually opens.  “Oh,” he says.  “I didn’t think you’d answer.”

“Then why did you knock?”

“Because he had hope, Kyokyo.  Obviously.”

“Hush.”

“Huh?”  Makoto’s awkward expression – one hand raised in front of his chin, the same way it had often been during trials, giving him something else to focus on instead of the unhappy expressions of their classmates – turns into a startled, confused one.  “I didn’t say anything.”  He glances over his shoulder, but there’s no one else in the hallway. “Who were you talking to?”

“Puhuhuhuhu.~”  Junko’s laughter echoes behind her, and Kyoko can almost feel her chin resting on her shoulder.

No.

Not almost.

Junko can’t be a ghost when she isn’t dead.

“Why are you here, Makoto?”  Kyoko meets his eyes.  His ahoge is gone; she’d noticed that before but hadn’t filed it away.  Something must have happened between his death (not real) and when she found him in that locked room.  Maybe that Nagito did something with it.  Or maybe whatever mechanism Junko used to get him into that room had chopped it off.  Either way, she’d say he looks better without it.  Normal.

Makoto’s gaze drops instinctively.  “You’ve been stuck in here for days.  You’re eating, right?”

She is.  She’s been actively avoiding everyone and going to the kitchen when she believes everyone else to be asleep – or elsewhere – after that run-in with Chisa.  She’d realized then that she liked the taste of the other woman’s despair, which is particularly worrisome, but she isn’t going to tell him that.

Instead, Kyoko lies.

“No, Makoto.  I haven’t been eating.”

It’s sarcasm, but Makoto believes her.  His eyes grow wide, and his gaze jumps up, and he reaches out without thinking.  “You have to eat something!”  He grabs her white-gloved hand and tugs her out of her room.  “You have to eat something right now, or you’re going to starve.”

His desperation is cute.

His naïveté less so.

Still.

Kyoko lets Makoto drag her down the hallway to the kitchen.  It’s less dragging if she walks with him, but even when she shakes her hand out of his, he grabs the edge of her blazer.  Before the past two weeks, she might have thought it was cute.  Even after, if she hadn’t regained her memories, if she’d been allowed to continue along the track her mind dallied with during the Game, she might have thought the same.

But Makoto died.

Strictly speaking, Makoto did not die, but she’d believed him to be dead.  She’d believed him to be dead, and she’d remembered what happened with Junko before the Game, and it didn’t matter that she didn’t know what it felt like to be interested or not because she did know that whatever it was she felt about Makoto, it was nothing in comparison to what she felt about Junko.  Worse, she’d remembered all of that while forcing herself to move on from a Makoto who had left things for her to do with no clues for her to know how to do them—

Junko, at least, isn’t dead.

“There’s a lot of food in here,” Makoto says as they reach the kitchen, as he finally drops his hold on her sleeve.  “Anything you want, they probably have it.”  He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.  “It’s probably not infinite like it was at Hope’s Peak, but….”  His voice trails off, and his brows furrow.  “Where did all of that food come from, anyway?”

Junko never told her.  Of course, Kyoko never asked either.  Where their infinite supply of food came from hadn’t been as high on her list of priorities as….  Well, as everything else.

Makoto gives a little shake of his head.  “Doesn’t matter.  We’re not there anymore; we’re here now, and you need to eat.  Something, at least.”  He scavenges in the nearest cupboard and pulls out a bag full of processed powdered donuts.  “These probably aren’t as good as fresh ones, but those will take a bit to cook, and honestly, I’ve got no clue how to cook donuts—”

“I do.”

Kyoko remembers far too many bowls with far too many combinations, remembers making far too many donuts that the others refused to eat.  Makoto can’t know about that.  It was such a small thing.  He might have heard, maybe, that they decided they couldn’t trust her, but certainly he wouldn’t have heard anything that specific.  Those sorts of things get lost in the telling.

But Kyoko remembers.

“My favorite donut.  Do you remember what it is?”

Makoto looks up at her.  “Oh,” he says.  “Do you want to make them?”

“No.”

Kyoko doesn’t have the heart to mention that she doesn’t like donuts.  Not to Makoto.  That would have been enough of a motive for Hina to kill her, but she’s….

It’s impossible not to think about Hina while they’re talking about donuts.

“Makoto,” Kyoko starts, as he steps away from her, over to another drawer.

“See?” Makoto continues, ignoring her, as he opens the drawer.  “There’s chips and fruit and all sorts of—”

“Makoto.”

He stops.

Kyoko’s eyes narrow.  “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

It’s just like before – when Makoto had seen something involving Sakura, when he’d known she was the traitor in their midst and instead chose to say nothing.  He wears that same expression now, staring not at her but at the open drawer, at the bags of brand name chips inside it.

(Junko would have taken the thin cheese curls and eaten them with chopsticks; Junko would have licked cheese dust seductively from her fingertips just to rile the others up; Junko used chopsticks because Kyoko got frustrated with the fingertip licking, even though, “That’s the best way to eat them, Kyokyo!  You’re hopeless.”

But she’s not thinking about Junko right now.)

“I’m not supposed to tell you,” Makoto starts to say, “but—”

“If you’re not supposed to tell me, then don’t.”  Kyoko cuts him off and walks to the other side of the kitchen, far from him, where a woven fruits basket rests.  She pulls an apple out and examines it.

“But you need to—”

Kyoko turns on the faucet, rinses the apple, and covers up whatever Makoto is trying to say.  There’s no sticker on the apple, but her thumb brushes across it where the sticker would be.  Water slides from her new gloves.  Interesting.  When she turns the faucet off, she gives Makoto a pointed look, as if to say, How persistent are you?

(Foolish girl.

Makoto ca be every bit as stubborn and persistent as you are.

That’s why you liked him so much.)

“Junko told me everything!” Makoto exclaims as soon as Kyoko turns to face him.  “It was…it was in a video in that room I was locked in, on that laptop Nagito took.”  His gaze drops, averts so that he can’t meet hers, or perhaps so that he can’t see her expression.  “I must have watched it a thousand times, but I can’t remember most of it.  Not the way you would have, if you’d seen it.”  His face grows ashen.  “Okay, she didn’t tell me everything, but she told me a lot, and she told me I couldn’t tell you, but—”  He looks up,then.  “She said she was going to die.”

“I am going to die, Kyoko.  That is the way this story ends.”

The mirai door opens halfway through.

She’s not dead yet.

Kyoko stares at Makoto.  Holds the apple uneaten in her hand.  Doesn’t say, I know that already, because there’s something in this.  Something in what Makoto said – that he isn’t supposed to tell her.  Why would Junko tell him not to tell her something that she already knows?  Had Junko changed her mind about telling her that?  Or—

“Junko said if I told you, it would change things.  That if I….”  Makoto’s forehead scrunches up, as though drawing the exact words from his memory, “if I opened my stupid whore mouth and spilled the beans, it would only make things worse.”  He shakes his head.  “But that can’t make things worse, can it?”

“What else did she tell you?”

That’s the most important thing.

If Junko left a message for Makoto, then that means she has a plan specifically for him.  She’s told him something within the message that will set him on a path to do precisely what she wants him to do.  Just like she’d given Toko the notebooks, knowing that they would reach Byakuya – not that Kyoko has any idea what is even on those notebooks, but there must have been something there to jog Byakuya’s memory about the modification machine, to make that connection the same way that finding Ryoko Otonashi’s Memory Notebook had done it for her.

Junko knew that Byakuya would take her, knew that he would try to change her memories, knew that Ultimate Despair would come for her and take her.  She knew because she set those events in motion.

The dominoes are still falling, but Kyoko can’t see the final picture yet.

(It’s a murder told backwards.  If she catches the clues early enough, maybe she can prevent it.

If Junko wants to die, truly wants to die, then she will have factored that in as well.  Any attempt to prevent it might only assure it happens.  But….

She won’t stand around and do nothing.  She has never been able to do that.)

Makoto opens his mouth to say something and then stops entirely, his gaze lifting past Kyoko to rest on someone else behind her.  He offers a small, but awkward, smile.  “Ms. Yukizome.”

“Oh, don’t stop talking because of me!”  Chisa’s heels clack on the tiled floor, and she waves one hand dismissively.  “I’m just here for the food!”  She glances over, glances up, and her eyes widen as she catches sight of Kyoko.  Then she smiles pleasantly.  “It’s good to see you out of your room, Kyoko!”

Kyoko takes the apple and walks past her, past Makoto.  She hadn’t wanted to talk to Makoto anyway, and of course, Chisa would show up at the exact moment she might have gotten more information on—

Why does she even want to find Junko, anyway?  Does she want to save her?

(Why would anyone, other than Makoto, want to save Junko Enoshima?)

As Kyoko walks down the hallway back to her room, Makoto cries out, “Wait!”  When she turns back to him, he’s standing just down the hallway from her, one hand outstretched, and when she doesn’t say anything, his face grows as firm as he knows how to make it.  “What happened?” he asks, brow furrowing.  “When I was stuck in that room, what happened?  The others won’t tell me anything.”

Kyoko opens her mouth to say something, catches Chisa just behind him, and stops.  Her lips press together in a thin line.  “I’m sure you would like to hear that, too, wouldn’t you, Ms. Yukizome?”

“Chisa,” she corrects.  “We’re all friends here.”

“No,” Kyoko scoffs.  “We’re not.”  She turns away, clenches her gloved hand on the apple she still holds, and sighs.  “Tomorrow,” she says, finally.  “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”  She glances back over her shoulder and meets Chisa’s eyes.  “But only if you tell me more about Future Foundation.  What the war has been like.  Possible locations of Despair’s leaders.”

Chisa raises an eyebrow.  “Why would you want to know those?  Do you want to find—”

“No.”  Kyoko cuts her off before she can even finish the sentence.  “I want to bring them down.”

(She lies with her whole heart, or so she thinks, and hopes that Chisa believes her the same way Makoto does, his face falling and growing ashen with her words.)

[gaijin-fujin-resonance]

How Buck-Tick Found Me: A Fan Origin Story

I though I had written this all out before, but probably on a more ephemeral format.

Buck-Tick discovered me by accident in early 2022. I don't even known how many near-misses I must have had. The only time I had ever previously heard them was Aphex Twin's remix of In The Glitter on 26 Mixes For Cash in 2003. (Why, oh why didn't B-T release Shapeless in the UK in 1994, when I was into many of the artists on it!?!?) But despite having many friends who were into the noisier end of J-Rock (and tried force-feeding me bORIS or Boredoms), not once did anyone suggest B-T. I'm still mad about that!

On 25th February 2022, I was idly reading an interview with a K-Pop producer on The Guardian, who mentioned his teenage obsession with Visual Kei. The picture (of Versailles) on that linked article intrigued me. So I went straight to Spotify and looked up "Old School Visual Kei". The fourth song in grabbed my attention to the point where I looked up the artist - the combination of trip-hop beats; ethereal, shoegazey guitars; and deep, breathy, slightly gothic vocals immediately sucked me in. Yes, like most western fans, my introduction to B-T was ドレス.

I listened to a couple more Visual Kei songs, but none of them did for me what that one Buck-Tick track did. I went back and hit play on their Spotify profile, and ended up listening to them for the rest of the night, until way past my bedtime. I listened to nothing else for the rest of the week, absolutely captivated by everything I heard. It was like someone had taken every single genre of music I had ever cared about from the age of 15 - positive punk, new wave, goth, techno, industrial, cyberpunk, shoegaze, electro, spacerock, drone - and just simmered them in a crockpot with distinctive Japanese flavouring.

This seems crazy to admit now, but I listened to B-T for over a year without ever even knowing what they looked like. I was vaguely aware that they were still going (the latest release at that point was Go-Go B-T Train - I love trains with all my middle-aged British heart so that was a winner for me.) But the singles from Izora started popping up on my Release Radar. Every time one came on, I would find myself sitting upright, paying attention and going to check who it was by. Oh, wow, that old Japanese band has got a new album out? Cool!

I started following the tags on Tumblr. I liked the look of the singer; he reminded me of a cross between Blixa Bargeld and Brett Anderson. In May 2023, shortly after the release of Izora, a gifset wandered across my feed. No source, no tag of what video or song or even album it was. Just the most AESTHETIC images I had ever seen.

The singer was beautiful, but it wasn't the singer that captured me, it was the visual world that this video hinted at.

I spent the next two months chasing down every B-T video on YouTube, trying to find the source of this snippet. Annoyingly, it wasn't in the official videos on their channel. I went on a Deep Dive, until I found it was Love Me, in a fan-assembled playlist of all their early videos. Honestly, whoever compiled this thing: you CHANGED MY LIFE. I wish I could pinpoint the moment that I switched from "wow, I really like this band" to "OH MY GOD THE NEW HYPERFIXATION THAT WILL CONSUME ME FOR THE NEXT FEW YEARS" - maybe it was somewhere between Love Letter and Heroine on this playlist?

I honestly thought I was going to fall in love with the handsome singer, like everyone else on earth. I started devouring Cayce's blog and BT Zone, looking for clues. I read the Japanese Wikipedia entry through Google Translate back when the EngliIh language version was little more than a stub. (Honestly, there was more information about the band on TV Tropes when i started researching.) But the more I read, the more I watched, the more I listened, the more I found myself drawn to the little blond guitarist. Interviews and fact sheets revealed we had a huge number of random, coincidental commonalities. But when he whipped out a theremin during SSL (inbetween commanding said singer to lick his boots) I was lost. You don't choose your Honmei, your Honmei chooses you. He chose hard. I can remember my oldest friend, around her birthday in August, laughing at me, saying "this Imai person has eaten your brain, huh?"

So I guess I had about a year and a half of liking the music, and about 3 or 4 months of being in the fandom before Atsushi collapsed onstage, and everything changed.

...

So although I'm no longer a New Fan, I feel like I have more in common with that experience. I wish I had decades of Deep History with the band - listening to their albums in order, I can hear all of the places in their long history where their taste and aesthetic aligned perfectly with whatever music I was listening to at the time. I do have that Deep History with many of their influences, enough that I feel I have secondhand familiarity with what they were doing.

I certainly understand why fans with a 30+ year history with the band might feel unsettled about the future and trepidation about B-T Mk II. (Except... among the people I follow, it doesn't seem like it's the long-haul fans who have already weathered so many changes, who are having the most trouble with it? The 30+ year fans seem to be the most loyal to the whole group as a concept, with or without Atsushi's corporeal presence.) But that's not where I am.

I had a 35 year history thrown at me to absorb in a few months. I've had 20 months of B-T with Atsushi, and 13 months of B-T without. Change is inevitable. So I feel like I am completely open to a second chapter of my fandom which is different from the first?

Note: Your Mileage May Vary. The way I do fandom is not the only way of doing fandom. All approaches to fandom are valid. You do you, and allow me to do me.

[divinekangaroo]

Was thinking a bit deeper on @deadendtracks query https://www.tumblr.com/divinekangaroo/740003125539307520/i-clipped-this-from-your-post-because-its-easier?source=share

Snipped for sex talk, and also to spare any disinterested parties my naiveity on complex matters such as: subaltern/Orientalism/exoticism/Othering/ethnic talk etc

In hindsight I think I answered that query as a ‘possible authorial intent’ - speculatively, to subvert the usual gangster trope by displaying macho-ish behaviours (sex! whores!) but flipping motivation and outcome.

But there's also something else that's been churning away at the back of my head, the term subaltern. "the most powerless people living within the socio-economic confines of imperialism" -- and this imperialist overlay that often assigns the devious, deviant, dark, scheming/conniving/machavellian/feminine characteristics to the subaltern man, too, because it is exotic.

I haven't properly structured an argument around this; I feel a lot of T's approach to sex has that almost woman-coded thing to it, as signifiers of an even-further-disadvantaged man. It nags at me and feels that this also ties into this subaltern, semi-'Orientalist' / exotic layer he has as 'lower than the lowest class' / 'actually so low class he's outside of class' Romani character -> less of a stereotype, more of a conscious consideration of "if you have nothing, you will use everything you can, and sometimes that includes your own body, and guess what here's the bind: that kinda puts you even *lower* in the hierarchy, because women are lower than men and only women use their bodies that way!"

Gut instinct, barely unpacked: there's an imperialist/cultural/ethnic trauma that feels like it can't be detached from Tommy's sexuality/approach to sex any more than the hints of childhood trauma or abuse can be, either. Especially when you consider childhood as his closest time still connected to the living Romani culture, as opposed to by the time we see him on screen when his interactions with his culture are static and based on childhood/broken memories. I was initially put off by the Romani layer because it felt like a stereotype - gangs followed ethnic lines so let's just apply an ethnicity that's ~exotic~ - but the later series re-frame the earlier approach into something that shows it was almost never intended to be a representation of the culture but rather, more like Tommy's particular (distorted, damaged) view.

----

But then also answering the personal side of the question RE: Tommy's character. What does it mean for a person/individual to be so transactional and detached from sex yet participatory towards it?

This gets a little more headcanon-y:

T started having sex or being sexualised (seeing/experiencing sex) really young in a less than affectionate way - more like, here is a thing that must be done for some other action to happen (or be diverted).

Because of this, I can’t ever see him permitting himself to perform that ‘hungry to totally surrender his control and desires to someone else’ role so frequently given to him in fanon. What happened with Tatiana was an exception, not a rule. It’s nice to read for various reasons, but I'm unlikely to personally lean into this take. Not to say he's dominating or must be fully in control during sex, either, just that I think he'd avoid leaning into surrender because it'd be like losing total control of a transaction and becoming far too vulnerable.

Despite that I do feel he has an urge for connection/intimacy, I think he struggles with actually connecting deeply with people, reading sexual cues/flirtation or the like. In some ways, he connects too deeply and therefore holds back? I did have thoughts along the asexual line. He likes certain people, and he mostly enjoys the physical act of sex, and these two things can overlap to ‘I would like sex with this certain person’, but there’s a big gap between the two. Deep connection is unrelated to sex. Can't read flirt cues to the point he leapfrogs straight to the 'do you want to fuck?' almost as an abstraction because he can never decode the in-between steps?

Notwithstanding any deep connection, sex is still considered/framed as duty and obligation. His approach with Lizzie in S6 as case in point; he is conscious of his role and considers it a thing that must be performed to satisfy that role. Even S5, it feels like a 'seal the deal' sex exchange; he knows she likes it, she just told him so and that it's important to her, so all right, he's going to let loose.

This difficulty with 'is this connection? not sure?' is one reason why I think he is mostly about family (he can take connection for granted and has had a really really long time to build it). He also has a surprisingly large *respectful* but superficial network (he knows the right behaviours but rarely gets personal), very few close friends (honestly is this just Alfie? Maybe, once, Freddie and Barney? even Johnny Dogs and Uncle Charlie are subordinate). Which lends itself very effectively to leadership, to be honest, but also loneliness: again it feels like he's performing connection.

I really struggle with picturing him feeling much physical attraction without consciously focusing on it. He seems to spark for people (or maybe situations/dynamics - classy women?) not their physical, and when I’m in headcanon mode, it’s familiarity that builds his fondness for certain aspects of a person's physicality, rather than their physicality attracting him initially. So either he wants sex (release) and it's not really relevant who with, or he wants the person and sex is acceptable/better with that person. And there's a conscious switch in his head like, "ok now paying attention to physical attraction because must have sex" or "switch it off not important right now"

[fatalfangirl]

Almost Six Books Sunday

Hi, i’m around, just perpetually exhausted and still dealing with everything I previously shared. Which means I have not had the mental capacity to write! At all! Not even a little! But I have been reading because *escapism*

So I’m here to share five books I have recently enjoyed. They’re all m/m, most are a mind-the-trigger-warnings situation, and they have all kept me sane during times of e x t r e m e stress.

A Strange and Stubborn Endurance by Foz Meadows.

Byzantine politics, lush sexual energy, and a queer love story that is by turns sweet and sultry, Foz Meadows' A Strange and Stubborn Endurance is an exploration of gender, identity, and self-worth. It is a book that will live in your heart long after you turn the last page.

And boy if that ain’t the truth. I LOVED Vel and Cae so much and world felt full and rich (even if the main political mystery element was kind of unnecessarily convoluted). Definitely mind the TW, but I enjoyed this book greatly and thought Vel’s growth in particular was well done.

To say I look forward to the second book is an understatement.

A Taste of Gold and Iron by Alexandra Rowland

To prove his loyalty to the queen, his sister, Kadou takes responsibility for the investigation of a break-in at one of their guilds, with the help of his newly appointed bodyguard, the coldly handsome Evemer, who seems to tolerate him at best. In Arasht, where princes can touch-taste precious metals with their fingers and myth runs side by side with history, counterfeiting is heresy, and the conspiracy they discover could cripple the kingdom’s financial standing and bring about its ruin.

This book is delish. Yum yum yummy slow burn. Very character driven where (once again) the political mystery plot sort of takes a back seat to the more interesting relation developing. Kadou and Evemer have that sort of interdependency that I am weak for. WEAK I tell you.

Also the author wrote a fic for her own book and I love that for all of us.

Lord of Silver Ashes (Rowan Blood Book 2) by Kellen Graves

After two weeks in the attic of Danann House, Saffron anticipates the moment he can finally be reunited with Prince Cylvan--but that day is unexpectedly marred by a visit from Headmistress Elluin, who doesn't believe Saffron was the one to perform magic in Beantighe Village in the attempt to save Berry. Saffron will be expected to prove it; if he can't, every other human he loves will be arrested and executed for arid practice and conspiracy.

This book series is the type of thing that I could binge read forever. Is it ultra original? No. Are there TW galore? Definitely. Does our plucky mc have plot armor? The thickest. He should be dead like 10 times over, but is instead in a constant state of what must be agonizing pain from gruesome injuries he somehow just grits his teeth through.

And I love every fucking moment of this series. Saffron is BABY and his dumb high elf lover is ALSO BABY. I cannot wait for book 3.

Prince and Pawn (Perilous Courts Book 3) by Tavia Lark

Prince and Pawn is a high fantasy gay romance with hurt/comfort, forbidden pining, inappropriate use of vines, and more magic tigers. The Perilous Courts series is best read in order, but each book follows a different prince and his Happily Ever After.

I have read 4.5 of the planned 6 books in this series and I keep thinking “surely there’s no possible way I’ll enjoy this couple as much as the last.” And then I DO. EVERY. TIME. But Audric and Corin get special mention because their particular trope is one I’m extra weak to.

This series is really about the characters with the barest thread of a plot, but oh how yummy those characters are. I freaking churned through a book a day and then ended up on the author’s Patreon because I couldn’t get enough. BOOK 5 SOON!!!!!

Wolfsong (Green Creek Book 1) by TJ Klune

Wolfsong is the beginning of the Green Creek Series, the beloved fantasy romance sensation by New York Times bestselling author TJ Klune, about love, loyalty, betrayal, and family.

I will murder for this pack!!! Ox and Joe are just so very!!!!!!!! WEEPS!

Now does it take some wrapping your head around the whole “they were 10 and 16 and destined to be together”? Yes, yes it does, but I think this series does a good job of showing that love is not necessarily sexual—as good a job as it does showing family is not necessarily blood.

(I’m almost done with book 2, and Mark might be the ultimate babe.)

If you managed to make it this far, thanks for that. I’ll come up for air again soon.

[sushiisiu]

mario movie is quirky and all but it doesn't change the fact that it's just another formulaic 70 tropes in a trenchcoat type movie with a bunch of big names attached (and also a huge franchise!) that can easily generate box office success that's just going to inspire more suits to try and replicate it with other franchises what the hell is a live action minecraft movie 2025?????? sorry mario movie is goofy and good its 48% but its not soulless even if the plot kind of is i swear to god i was counting how many generic ass shots and moments it had it really follows the hero's journey structure to a T it's SO safe and its enormous nostalgia bait it's hard to be mad at it but it just has me concerned over everything being made based on a gimmick these days like the This movie the That novel. Backrooms movie? The whole horror of it was the mystique and ambiguity of just Ohhh you can no clip out of reality into this spooky liminal office and it's utterly incomprehensible and you are just helpless to a reality that you were never meant to experience. There is no mystique if there's gotta be plot and characters about it! why would it be scary any more if its like Ooh government quantum spacetime portal experiment GONE WRONG !!!! it's like how minecraft storymode fucking sucks cus its not meant to have a story and characters and you could not pay me to give a shit because the main character is literally the setting and background itself ! i am sick and tired of stuff being made based on a gimmick it never works out well!!! it's like those tiktok novels that are based on like a fanfic tag It doesnt work without preestablished characters IDGAF !!!!!! tired of going to the cinema only to be sensory overloaded and at the same time consume a nothing burger for 1hr30mins and come out feeling hollow like That's it that was like a bunch of tropes strung together ! sorry i kinda forgot where this was going im just tired of hearing news about how THIS FAMOUS INTERNET THING NOW GETS A MOVIE! and its like did we not learn from the mistakes of our forefathers.... unless you're going in with a super inspired vision and an actual story to tell its not going to end well!!! (and it never does cus its always some bozo trying to cash in on the hype instead of someone who genuinely cares and understands the source material) Idunno it's also kind of like the marvelization of movies too where everything is super Safe and Must Have a bunch of corny jokes that makes it really hard to actually care about the stakes and characters. Marvelization and MCUifcation happening a lot lately actually the damage mcu has done to cinema oh my god. Anyways i forgot where this was going but mario movie is a 4/10 What kind of movie has I'm holding out for a hero, Take on me and Mr Blue Sky all in the same soundtrack????