#ok this is so old I was going through my drafts and discovered it

[mysecretisme]

When your frenemy saves you from drowning only for you to get caught by the intergalactic cops you were running from...

(A scene from my very first au, how quaint-)

[lulubelle814]

Regards, Loki - Chapter 6

Master List

By the time she got home on Friday, she was bone tired.  Barely making it home, she made it to the couch.  She knew there was nothing in the fridge but didn’t have it in her to go get some groceries.  Rather than find a can of soup, she fell asleep on that lumpy sofa.

Waking up in the middle of the night, she had a raging headache.  Between the shitty sofa and the lack of food consumption, it wasn’t surprising.  Prying herself off said couch, she found a can of chili in the kitchen and heated it up while searching for some paracetamol.  When she finally found it, she took an extra pill and drank what felt like a half gallon of water.  Once the chili was ready, she went back to the couch to watch whatever was on TV.  It wasn’t a great night, but she was happy to have a roof over her head.  Snatching her phone out of her purse, she looked to see if she had any messages.  The screen was a little glitchy, but there wasn’t really much she could do about it.  At least it was still working.

After flipping through the channels for a bit, she settled on an old movie.  Once the chili was gone, she put the bowl on the coffee table, pulled a small blanket over herself, and curled up into a comfortable position.  It didn’t take long before she fell asleep.

Waking up at 5 am, she found herself very uncomfortable.  Not only had she fallen asleep in her clothes, she discovered that her phone was more damaged than she realized from being doused in coffee.

On top of it, her phone spit out a number of messages that she should have seen but had just come through.  She had 8 new texts and 2 missed calls.  Unlocking her phone, she saw the 2 missed calls were from Cora.  5 of the texts were from her, asking if she wanted to go out before turning to worried texts, asking if she was ok; however, the other 3 messages were from ‘Loki’.  Most of these texts and calls occurred while she was eating dinner and watching tv, and it infuriated her.

Loki: This dreadful day is finally over.  I hope you have something fun planned for this weekend?

2 hours later

Loki: Are you alright, darling?  You’re usually very responsive.

45 minutes later

Loki: I hope everything is alright.  Please let me know when you get this?

She held a pillow up to her face and screamed into it.  Her crappy phone was well overdue for replacement, but she couldn’t afford an upgrade.  Now with it being coffee damaged as well, she felt like someone was punishing her.  Rather than wait until a ‘reasonable’ hour to text him back (especially as the text might not actually go through), she drafted and sent an email as it would be easier to , assuming he was likely sleeping and would see it when he woke up.  Getting on her laptop and opening her email, she found there was a message from him there as well.

Dear Sigyn,

I have not received any responses to my last few texts, and it has me worried.  I hope you are not hurt or incapacitated.  My fear is that something happened to you, but my logic tries to tell me that maybe you fell asleep early.

If you could let me know once you get this, I would be most relieved to know you are alright as  I have grown fond of our correspondence in the short time we have been ‘talking.’

Regards,

Loki

Her heart fluttered with the knowledge that someone (other than Cora) wanted to ensure she was ok.  Before doing anything else, she responded.

Dear Loki,

I cannot apologize enough for my lack of response.  My boss knocked my drink onto my phone which apparently caused more damage than I thought.  I’ll take it to the shop this weekend to see if they can take a look at it.

I was so exhausted when I got home last night that I fell asleep on my couch.  In fact, I’m still wearing my work clothes from yesterday.  I meant to go shopping after work, but I didn’t have the energy to do so.  I promise I will do so before returning to work Monday morning.

I’m so sorry you had an awful day.  That’s the great thing about weekends though, right?  You have time to rest and relax before starting another work week.

I’m so sorry, again, for my delayed response and hope you can forgive me.

Regards,

Sigyn

Sending off the email, she put a kettle full of water on the stove before going to her room to shed her clothes.  Grabbing a towel, she turned on the shower to the hottest setting she could stand and stepped in.  The water felt incredible on her neck and back, loosening up some of the tight muscles.  Afterwards, she got out, dried off, and put on an oversized shirt and some leggings.  Looking at the clock, it wasn’t even 6 am, and the shops wouldn’t open for a few more hours.

Hearing the whistle of the teapot, she ran back to the kitchen, taking it off the stove.  Grabbing her favorite berry hibiscus tea, she made herself a cup to steep while she grabbed her laptop to map out some places to shop.mmWhen she opened it, there was already a response from him.  Why was he awake so early?  Dammit.  Is he one of those health nut, early morning run kind of guys?

Dear Sigyn,

I must confess I am relieved to hear from you.  I understand the frustrations that come with having an old phone especially when it becomes damaged.  Perhaps you can get a new one?

In fact, I insist on it.  It does you no good to have an unreliable means of communication.  Visit the shop below today and tell them ‘Loki’ sent you.

I know you may call this ‘charity’, but I will be very cross if you turn down my offer.  If anything, you’ll have a better way to communicate with your friends as well as a reliable morning alarm without fear that it did not charge overnight.

He listed a tech store that, thankfully, wasn’t too far.  Googling the address, she found there were also a few shops around that area that she would have to check out.  Why not get everything done in one fail swoop?

Going back to her room, she took a look at her work clothes from yesterday, finding even more holes than it had the day before.  By this point, it couldn’t be salvaged, and she cursed herself for falling asleep in her work clothes.

By the time 9 am finally rolled around, she was on a train to the shops she looked at online earlier.  It was only a 10 minute train ride to get there.  Not wanting to disappoint ‘Loki’, she headed to the tech shop first.  Upon entering, there was a distinct “ding” alerting the workers to her arrival.

“Good morning, miss!  How can I help you find this lovely morning?”  Looking around, she noticed this was one of the nicer electronic stores, not the phones she saw at Tesco.

Turning to the gentleman, she felt awkward.  “I, um, I’m supposed to say that Loki sent me?  I know it sounds ludicrous.”

“Not to worry ma’am.  I have your order ready.  I just need your name for confirmation.”  He was being very professional for what she thought was a very strange situation.  Of course, though, he was paid to be nice.  Since ‘Loki’ was the one to set this up, she gave her screen name, ‘Sigyn.’  Once satisfied, he brought out 2 packages from under the counter, one large and the other small which confused her.

Thankfully, there was a note attached to explain everything.

Dear Sigyn,

I took it upon myself to not only replace your phone but also obtain a new laptop.  If you are having trouble with your phone, I have a feeling your laptop may be in similar shape.  I hope you like what I selected.  If not, please exchange them for what you would like.  The shop has strict instructions to send me the bill should there be any additional cost.

Regards,

Loki

How?  What?  Huh?  No one’s ever done something this kind for her.

Opening the smaller box, she found the newest, top of the line phone, one that she could only dream of.  She just couldn’t believe it!  

“Are you sure this is the right phone?  I didn’t think this had been released yet.”

The clerk looked at the phone and then the notes he received.  “Yes, ma’am.  That’s the correct phone.  It will be released to the public next month, but a few select customers are gaining early access, and ‘Mr. Loki’ asked that you receive the one offered to him.”

He offered to help set up her phone as well as transfer any contacts, files, text messages, etc that she wished to keep.  She didn’t have much.  So it only took a few minutes.  She couldn’t understand why someone would be this generous to someone who wouldn’t offer anything more than conversation.

Once finished, he selected a nice canvas bag to put the computer in as well as the box for her new phone.  “The computer is an easy set up, but if you need help, please come back with your new and old laptops, and I can help with that as well.  Also, should you wish to, you can recycle your old phone for free.”

She nodded and thanked them as she took the bag and walked out of the store.  Thankfully there was a coffee shop across the street where she could order a muffin and drink while trying to calm herself down.  It took about an hour, but she couldn’t get this idea out of her head that he was doing this in order to get something.  Rather than head home to think, she found a bookshop to relax in for a while.

Once settled in a large, comfy chair in the back, she reached out to him.

Loki: The shop let me know you picked up the phone and laptop.  Are they to your liking?

Sigyn: Are you sure about this?  It’s just too much, but they wouldn’t let me leave without them.  

It didn’t take long to receive a response.  

Loki: I am glad to know you received them and that they followed my instructions.

Sigyn: I feel funny accepting these.  My anxiety keeps telling me you want something or will use this against me at some point.

Loki: Your honesty is refreshing.  I assure you, there is no hidden agenda.  I simply wish to take care of my friend.

Sigyn: Thank you so much!

Loki: You are very welcome.  I hope you have a productive shopping day.

[light-macadamia]

writeblr tag - end of the year

✰ what was your writing goal of 2022 and how did you do?

So I set out to write 50 000 words and exceeded it with 56 676 (so many sixes!), to pen three slavic horror stories, of which I wrote two (but the second one is a lot longer), and draft all of on the cusp of venus, of which I did none (but I did add a few thousands words).

✰ most helpful tips discovered, or re-discovered?

The draft does not need to be perfect, it needs to be done. Truly lived this old classic this year.

✰ who was the character that grew most, or was most fun to write?

I love the Folklorist, the butch gentlewoman who collects mythical stories :3 

✰ what music helped pull you through or got you inspired?

I think my true revelation was slowed anything this year. Oh you like this song? Here is a version of it that sounds like it’s coming out of a crypt.

✰ where did you write most often?

In my room, never once did i have the cute coffeeshop experience. I also got the typewriter keyboard as a present this winter.So that means I am even less likely to have the cute coffeeshop experience.

✰ what was your longest and shortest piece?

The longest is The Stowaways (22 215), and the shortest is a little ode I wrote about rice porridge (192).

✰ which wip took up most time, or required most energy?

I wonder if the reason I cannot answer this question is because I genuinely just quit when it comes to roadblocks. Huh. 

✰ how did you keep track of writing this year (if you do)?

I’ve got a notion setup, but my new nanowrimo tracker takes the cake for the pastels alone.

✰ what was your most eureka moment (if you can share it)?

I know I wrote this question but how do you even explain it without going 5 plot layers deep. Ok so in Stowaways, I was thinking very hard about how can synthetic blood to feed vampires work until realising… it doesn’t have to work. 

Fun tidbit, synthetic blood does, in fact, exist in real life. 

✰ did you find new writing friends, or completed challenges?

I am quite proud of completing nanowrimo!! And any friend is a writing friend if you infodump them hard enough (wink wink).

✰ any words that you noticed yourself over-use?

YES the amount of brow furrowing is ridiculous, especially since i never even consider brows in real life.

✰ did any of your favourite tropes get featured in your writing?

The someone comes back, but they come back wrong, truly, a staple that cannot be understated or avoided.

✰ share your favourite lines or an excerpt

I don’t know if it’s favourite exactly, but I am thinking about this one a lot lately because it is on that weird overlap of cool and cringe.

“The threat of violence extends to the both of you,” they exclaimed loudly. “Lest you forget, a swordsperson without a sword is still a badass.”

✰ what are you aiming for in the year ahead?

The holy grail - learning how to edit.

If any scribbler wants to do the tag, it’s yours for the taking!

Happy holidays !!!

[ellabxrnes]

the first kiss

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary: Your first kiss with Bruce Wayne. Prompt based off of Taylor Swift's song Fearless.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 962

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a hot minute. I thought I'd proofread and post it.

Growing up, you never put much stock into relationships. You were OK on your own or with your close friends. That being said, you never dated anyone throughout high school and college. Sure, you were interested in people, but you always pushed those thoughts back and focused on your goals. It didn't hit you until you graduated college and got a good and well-paying job at Wayne Enterprises. It was an "Oh, shit" moment. It's like you blinked, and you realized that it would be nice to have someone around, someone you could depend on, love, etc... But you'd never had any relationship experience, so you continued to push back and ignore it all. Nobody wants a 22-year-old who hasn't even had their first kiss, right? So you continued to focus on your career. 

You worked in the heart of Gotham City as an Executive Assistant to Bruce Wayne. When most of your friends asked about your job, you tended to disregard their "oohs" and "ahs" about your boss. Of course, you had feelings for him; who didn't? Mr. Wayne was the stereotypical CEO. He also had a very active sex life. Or so your friends say. You try to suppress those butterflies and cut off your lingering stares because, after all, you still have work to do for him. Running a company isn't easy, and you are here to help him, not become distracted by his presence. 

You understood when you were hired that you would be spending a lot of time with Mr. Wayne, but you didn't realize just how much time you spent with him. Months passed, and you spent less time talking to your friends and more time talking to your boss. It started when Mr.Way- Bruce (he insisted you call him by his first name) asked you to join him on his business trip to Japan. You agreed, not because you would get the chance to ride in a private plane, but because you knew he needed someone to go with him. You'd like to say everything changed after that trip, but it was hard to tell.

You noticed Bruce would come up to your desk much more and ask you to do things that wouldn't be in your job description: Get lunch with him so you two could coordinate his schedule for the next week, come over to his manor and have dinner so you two could discuss the itinerary for your next trip together, etc., etc...

Alfred saw right through Bruce's behavior. Right before the trip to Japan, Alfred caught Bruce pacing in the cave after patrol. Bruce finally broke down when asked what was wrong and asked Alfred if he should ask you to join him on the trip. He said he needed someone organized like you to keep him on schedule; Alfred just nodded. After all these years with Bruce, he was still attempting to 'hide' something from him. 

Eventually, Bruce was sick of getting you to tag along on various things with him. He knew he needed to ask you out for real. So, he did just that. It was a bit of a shock to you when Bruce admitted he had feelings for you. That should've been the first clue, but he overlooked it. 

He spent days trying to plan the perfect way to ask you out. He admitted his feelings to Alfred, who told him he'd already known long before Bruce even admitted it to himself. Hee caught you just before you were about to leave for the day and asked you out to dinner. You happily agreed and made plans for the next week. 

It wasn't until he had taken you out to your favorite hole-in-the-wall sushi joint and walked you to your doorway that he discovered your lack of relationship experience. He thanked you for a good time, and before he let you open your door and walk away, he grabbed you and pulled you close to him. You tensed, and he froze, backing away. Had he made you uncomfortable? 

You looked down before you spoke, scared he would judge you. "I- I'm sorry. I just-"

He shook his head and cut you off. "Don't apologize. I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable."

You gazed up at him then with shaky hands. "Bruce, you didn't make me uncomfortable. I-" you take a deep breath and exhale. "I've never been kissed. Or had any relationship." He looked stunned. "I know this makes things awkward now. I had a great time." You started to open your door and slip inside.

Bruce was speechless but in a good way. He knew he should say something before you leave him waiting on your doorstep, so he pipes up, reaching to steady your shaking hands. "This doesn't change anything. You know that, right?"

You gawked at him and looked down at his hands enveloping yours. He started to bring you closer to him again, and you started feeling braver. He moves your hands to rest on his neck as his hands go just above your hips. Your lips are almost touching now, but before he inches closer, he breathes, "Is this okay?"

You feel his warm breath against your lips. Your voice is weak as you answer his question. "Good," he responds, but you reach on your toes and give him a chaste kiss before he can kiss your lips. It leaves him wanting more, but he knows he will have to take his time with you, for both of your sakes. As you reach back, you mumble a quick "Like that?" leaving Bruce speechless. 

Maybe it was good that you waited to date. You might have never met Bruce or had such a flawless first kiss, where you felt nothing but fearless. 

[cappymightwrite]

What draws you to incest ?

*sighs* Ok, here we go. I'm a real card carrying Jonsa now aren't I?

Anon, listen. I know this is an anti question that gets bandied about a lot, aimed at provoking, etc, when we all know no Jonsa is out here being all you know what, it really is the incest, and the incest alone, that draws me in. I mean, come on now. Grow up.

If I was "drawn" to incest I'd be a fan of Cersei x Jaime, Lucrezia x Cesare, hell Oedipus x Jocasta etc... but I haven't displayed any interest in them now, have I? So, huh, it can't be that.

Frankly, it's a derivitive question that is really missing the mark. I'm not "drawn" to it, though yeah, it is an unavoidable element of Jonsa. The real question you should be asking though, is what draws GRRM to it? Because he obviously is drawn to it, specifically what is termed the "incest motif" in academic and literary scholarship. That is a far more worthwhile avenue of thinking and questioning, compared with asking me. Luckily for you though anon, I sort of anticipated getting this kind of question so had something in my drafts on standby...

You really don't have to look far, or that deeply, to be hit over the head by the connection between GRRM's literary influences and the incest motif. I mean, let's start with the big cheese himself, Tolkein:

Tolkein + Quenta Silmarillion

We know for definite that GRRM has been influenced by Tolkein, and in The Silmarillion you notably have a case of unintentional incest in Quenta Silmarillion, where Túrin Turambar, under the power of a curse, unwittingly murders his friend, as well as marries and impregnates his sister, Nienor Níniel, who herself had lost her memory due to an enchantment.

Mr Tolkein, "what draws you to incest?"

Old Norse + Völsunga saga

Tolkein, as a professor of Anglo-Saxon, was hugely influenced by Old English and Old Norse literature. The story of the ring Andvaranaut, told in Völsunga saga, is strongly thought to have been a key influence behind The Lord of the Rings. Also featured within this legendary saga is the relationship between the twins Signy and Sigmund — at one point in the saga, Signy tricks her brother into sleeping with her, which produces a son, Sinfjotli, of pure Völsung blood, raised with the singular purpose of enacting vengence.

Anonymous Norse saga writer, "what draws you to incest?"

Medieval Literature as a whole

A lot is made of how "true" to the storied past ASOIAF is, how reflective it is of medieval society (and earlier), its power structures, its ideals and martial values etc. ASOIAF, however, is not attempting historical accuracy, and should not be read as such. Yet it is clearly drawing from a version of the past, as depicted in medieval romances and pre-Christian mythology for instance, as well as dusty tomes on warfare strategy. As noted by Elizabeth Archibald in her article Incest in Medieval Literature and Society (1989):

Of course the Middle Ages inherited and retold a number of incest stories from the classical world. Through Statius they knew Oedipus, through Ovid they knew the stories of Canace, Byblis, Myrrha and Phaedra. All these stories end more or less tragically: the main characters either die or suffer metamorphosis. Medieval readers also knew the classical tradition of incest as a polemical accusation,* for instance the charges against Caligula and Nero. – p. 2

The word "polemic" is connected to controversy, to debate and dispute, therefore these classical texts were exploring the incest motif in order to create discussion on a controversial topic. In a way, your question of "what draws you to incest?" has a whiff of polemical accusation to it, but as I stated, you're missing the bigger question.

Moving back to the Middle Ages, however, it is interesting that we do see a trend of more incest stories appearing within new narratives between the 11th and 13th centuries, according to Archibald:

The texts I am thinking of include the legend of Judas, which makes him commit patricide and then incest before betraying Christ; the legend of Gregorius, product of sibling incest who marries his own mother, but after years of rigorous penance finally becomes a much respected pope; the legend of St Albanus, product of father-daughter incest, who marries his mother, does penance with both his parents but kills them when they relapse into sin, and after further penance dies a holy man; the exemplary stories about women who sleep with their sons, and bear children (whom they sometimes kill), but refuse to confess until the Virgin intervenes to save them; the legends of the incestuous begetting of Roland by Charlemagne and of Mordred by Arthur; and finally the Incestuous Father romances about calumniated wives, which resemble Chaucer's Man of Law's Tale except that the heroine's adventures begin when she runs away from home to escape her father's unwelcome advances. – p. 2

I mean... that last bit sounds eerily quite close to what we have going on with Petyr Baelish and Sansa Stark. But I digress. What I'm trying to say is that from a medieval and classical standpoint... GRRM is not unique in his exploration of the incest motif, far from it.

Sophocles, Ovid, Hartmann von Aue, Thomas Malory, etc., "what draws you to incest?"

Faulkner + The Sound and the Fury, and more!

Moving on to more modern influences though, when talking about the writing ethos at the heart of his work, GRRM has famously quoted William Faulker:

His mantra has always been William Faulkner’s comment in his Nobel prize acceptance speech, that only the “human heart in conflict with itself… is worth writing about”. [source]

I’ve never read any Faulker, so I did just a quick search on “Faulkner and incest” and I pulled up this article on JSTOR, called Faulkner and the Politics of Incest (1998). Apparently, Faulkner explores the incest motif in at least five novels, therefore it was enough of a distinctive theme in his work to warrant academic analysis. In this journal article, Karl F. Zender notes that:

[...] incest for Faulkner always remains tragic [...] – p. 746

Ah, we can see a bit of running theme here, can't we? But obviously, GRRM (one would hope) doesn’t just appreciate Faulkner’s writing for his extensive exploration of incest. This quote possibly sums up the potential artistic crossover between the two:

Beyond each level of achieved empathy in Faulkner's fiction stands a further level of exclusion and marginalization. – pp. 759–60

To me, the above parallels somewhat GRRM’s own interest in outcasts, in personal struggle (which incest also fits into):

I am attracted to bastards, cripples and broken things as is reflected in the book. Outcasts, second-class citizens for whatever reason. There’s more drama in characters like that, more to struggle with. [source]

Interestingly, however, this essay on Faulkner also connects his interest in the incest motif with the romantic poets, such as Percy Bysshe Shelley and Lord Byron:

As Peter Thorslev says in an important study of romantic representations of incest, " [p]arent-child incest is universally condemned in Romantic literature...; sibling incest, on the other hand, is invariably made sympathetic, is sometimes exonerated, and, in Byron's and Shelley's works, is definitely idealized.” – p. 741

Faulkner, "what draws you to incest?" ... I mean, that article gives some good explanations, actually.

Lord Byron, Manfred + The Bride of Abydos

Which brings us onto GRRM interest in the Romantics:

I was always intensely Romantic, even when I was too young to understand what that meant. But Romanticism has its dark side, as any Romantic soon discovers... which is where the melancholy comes in, I suppose. I don't know if this is a matter of artistic influences so much as it is of temperament. But there's always been something in a twilight that moves me, and a sunset speaks to me in a way that no sunrise ever has. [source]

I'm already in the process of writing a long meta about the influence of Lord Byron in ASOIAF, specifically examining this quote by GRRM:

The character I’m probably most like in real life is Samwell Tarly. Good old Sam. And the character I’d want to be? Well who wouldn’t want to be Jon Snow — the brooding, Byronic, romantic hero whom all the girls love. Theon [Greyjoy] is the one I’d fear becoming. Theon wants to be Jon Snow, but he can’t do it. He keeps making the wrong decisions. He keeps giving into his own selfish, worst impulses. [source]

Lord Byron, "what draws you to—", oh, um, right. Nevermind.

I'm not going to repeat myself here, but it's worth noting that there is a clear through line between GRRM and the Romantic writers, besides perhaps melancholic "temperament"... and it's incest.

But look, is choosing to explore the incest motif...well, a choice? Yeah, and an uncomfortable one at that, but it’s obvious that that is what GRRM is doing. I think it’s frankly a bit naive of some people to argue that GRRM would never do Jonsa because it’s pseudo-incest and therefore morally repugnant, no ifs, no buts. I’m sorry, as icky as it may be to our modern eyes, GRRM has set the president for it in his writing with the Targaryens and the Lannister twins.

The difference with them is that they knowingly commit incest, basing it in their own sense of exceptionalism, and there are/will be bad consequences — this arguably parallels the medieval narratives in which incest always ends badly, unless some kind of real penance is involved. For Jon and Sansa, however, the Jonsa argument is that they will choose not to commit incest, despite a confused attraction, and then will be rewarded in the narrative through the parentage reveal, a la Byron’s The Bride of Abydos. The Targaryens and Lannisters, in several ways excluding the incest (geez the amount of times I’ve written incest in this post), are foils for the Starks, and in particular, Jon and Sansa. Exploring the incest motif has been on the cards since the very beginning — just look at that infamous "original" outline — regardless of whether we personally consider that an interesting writing choice, or a morally inexcusable one.

Word of advice, or rather, warning... don't think you can catch me out with these kinds of questions. I have access to a university database, so if I feel like procrastinating my real academic work, I can and will pull out highly researched articles to school you, lmao.

But you know, thanks for the ask anyway, I guess.

[barbarianprncess]

of these rushing waves

(you’ll be the oxygen i breathe)

A week after the Titan War, Annabeth is drafting a temple to Hestia when the weight of being the only person in the world that knows Percy's weak spot hits her.

Like. Really hits her.

(or 2k words of annabeth discovering what she means to percy)

(the biggest of shout outs to @timelesslords for helping me make this coherent, and to @colorguardfreak97 for encouraging me every step of the way. enjoy <3)

read on ao3

A week after the Titan War, Annabeth is drafting a temple to Hestia when the weight of being the only person in the world that knows Percy's weak spot hits her.

Like. Really hits her.

And after about a day and a half freaking out about what it means and what she should do about it, she decides to go talk to him.

(Because not talking to him about what was bothering her led to the worst year of her life. Progress.)

They’re sitting on the beach, sharing Percy’s too small blanket- they both know he has bigger ones, but it’s an excuse to be almost on top of each other. She’s curled up resting on his chest, and he has one hand secured on her waist tracing patterns on her thigh, the other tangled in her curls. They watch the sunset and Annabeth is almost perfectly content.

Almost.

“How did you know?” The words tumble out of her without context.

He shifts to face her and raises an eyebrow. Annabeth finds it unfairly attractive.

“Know what?”

“When you told me your weak spot. How’d you know I could handle it?” The unspoken ‘because I don’t think I can handle it ’ must be apparent enough because Percy’s expression softens.

“Have you been worrying about this?”

Annabeth’s first impulse is to brush it off and change the subject. But then she hears Silena’s voice in her head: tell him how you feel. So she ducks her chin and forces the words out.

“Well yeah, I mean it kinda freaks me out that I just have this power over you. I don’t trust myself.”

Percy tilts her chin with featherlight fingers and an unadulterated fondness her seven year old self would kill to be on the receiving end of.

“I trust you enough for the both of us,” he said.

“How are you so sure about this?” ‘How are you so sure about me?’

He gives her a ‘duh’ look that she’s so used to giving him, it's a bit shocking to be on the opposite end of it. She decides immediately she doesn’t like it.

“You know why.”

“No, I don’t, hence me asking you why.”

She's watched Percy's face morph to pure amusement. He chuckles, and hesitates. “Well, because...”

He trails off clearly thinking about how to word his answer. As he thinks it over she allows herself to look at him properly.

He’s beautiful. Sharp jawline, defined cheekbones, devastatingly symmetrical features. His eyes are deep and content, looking out at the sea as if it has the answer he’s looking for. He can’t seem to find what he wants amongst the waves, but his eyes meet hers and the words seem to come to him.

“It’s you, Annabeth.”

He says it like it answers not only her question but thousands of others. It does neither.

“What’s me, Annabeth?” She attempts at light-hearted sarcasm despite her impatience.

He looks at her with a glint of mischief in his eyes and she knows that look. She hates that look. That look means she’s not getting an answer anytime soon.  

“Oh my gods, you really don't know?”

She glares daggers.

He smiles winningly. “Oh, this is going to be fun.” She bites at his shoulder in retaliation.

“You’re the smartest person I know-” Percy starts.

“True, but flattery will get you nowhere-” Annabeth cut him off.

“So figure-’ He presses a kiss to her temple.

“It-’ A kiss to her left cheek.

“Out.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but he kisses her before she can get out the words. And His knuckles are gentle under her chin, and he smells like ocean breeze, and his lips are chapped yet achingly soft, and he tastes like home. Annabeth resigns herself to find out what he means later, and allows herself to get lost in him and saltwater and home.

...

She digs up every legend about the curse of Achilles she can find. She scours Daedales’s laptop until it runs out of battery. She didn’t even know that was possible.

She researches.

And researches.

And nothing.

She has no idea what he means. Annabeth famously hates not knowing.

And. Percy. Won’t. Budge.

She has tried every trick in the book. She tried baking blue cookies (she burned them), refusing to kiss him till he tells (she caves), and asking Grover to get it out of him (something about the bro-code).

Everytime she asks him he just looks at her with his dopey, baby-seal love eyes and says those same two words.

“It’s you.”

She hates him.

...

It’s three more days before she figures it out.

Nico is looking at her skeptically. His all black get-up makes it so he almost blends in with shadows of the Big House’s basement.

“You need my help?” He deadpans, leaning against the wall looking almost bored.

“Sort-of,” Annabeth shifts on her feet,  “So, I know you were the one who took Percy to the River Styx, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Well he’s explained to me bits and pieces about how the curse works, and told me where his… you know… spot is.”

“Ok.”

“So my question is-” Annabeth stopped short. “Wait doesn’t that surprise you at all?”

He shrugs noncommittally, “Not really, no. You were saying?”

Annabeth clears her throat and soldiers on.

“Uh yeah. Right, well it sorta freaked me out how readily he told me about it and I asked how he knew I could handle it and he just said ‘it’s me’. And he refuses to elaborate, and it’s kind of killing me so, do you know what that means? And if you do, could you please explain?”

She’s been staring at her shoes while she rambles on and when she looks up she sees…

Is that humor in his eyes?  

“So, I'm guessing you've done your research on the curse?” She nods. “So you know that when Achilles mother dipped him in the Styx, she held him up by his ankle, which then became his mortal point.”

“Like a sort of anchor.”

“Exactly. Now what the legends don’t mention is that the mortal point wasn’t just the ankle. When his mother pulled him out she became part of his mortal point. Still with me?”

“Not really.”

“Perfect. Going in on your own is no different. You still need someone to help you out of the river, just not physically. You need to picture someone pulling you out, someone to motivate you, someone to bring you back to earth.”

He looks up at her, silently asking permission to continue. Annabeth nods with urgence.  

“It's not just someone who can keep you mortal, but the one person that makes you want to stay mortal. That person and your weak spot become intertwined.” He looks up at her and must still see traces of confusion.

“Your mortal point isn’t just the point of your body that’s unaffected by the River Styx, It’s the person in your life that you saw that gave you the strength to survive the Styx at all.”

Oh.

Oh.

“So when he says ‘it’s...He literally means…” She trails off and looks up at Nico. His smirk is patronizing, but she can’t bring herself to care.

“It’s you.”

…

She vaguely recalls thanking Nico for his help, but how she ended up in her bunk staring at the wall is a mystery. Annabeth has never truly understood the word dumbfounded until now.

...

It’s her.

...

By the time she comes to, it's dark out. Annabeth is already grabbing her invisibility cap and pulling on her shoes. She should probably change out of her pajamas, but her urgency to get to Percy outweighs the little vanity she has left in her. Percy has seen her in far worse conditions than messy hair and sleep wear.

Normally she would climb in through his window, but tonight is strictly business. Percy is still up waiting for her like he has been every night since the war ended. His face brightens when his eyes land on her face then immediately scrunch in concern when he sees what must be a manic look in her eye.

“You ok?”

“It’s me.” A whisper- she says it like she can't fully comprehend the words.

“It’s me?” A question- not necessarily for him just unsure.

“It’s me!” An accusation- this time it’s directed at Percy, who smiles with unnecessary pride.

He tugs at her hand and pulls her to sit on the bunk.“You figured it out.”

She’s briefly tempted to explain the whole visit with Nico, but she has other things on her mind.

“That’s how I knew on the bridge. That feeling that you were in danger, even though you hadn’t told me where the spot was, I knew.”

He shrugs, “It would make sense, but to be honest, I actually have no idea.”

She entwines their fingers and he lifts her hand up to press kisses to her knuckles.

“You saved me.” Percy says it soft and reverent, like a prayer.

“On the bridge?”

“No. Well yeah you saved me on the bridge, but I’m talking about the Styx. It was the worst pain I’ve ever felt. I was burning alive. It was like I was back at Mt. St. Helen’s all over again.”

She feels a swift wave of guilt that she quickly pushes down so she can pay attention to the rest of his words.

“Except instead of the lava being thrown at me, I was dunked in it. And it was ten times hotter. I was drowning.” He laughs mirthlessly, and she squeezes his hand. “I was in so much pain I couldn't remember who I was.”

She knocks her forehead against his, partly to bring him back to reality, partly to remind herself that he did in fact survive to tell her this story.

He looks up at her, green eyes wide with a wonder and reverence she doesn’t believe she deserves.

“Then I heard you. Your voice. I heard your voice and I saw your face and you held out your hand. You didn’t just pull me back. You put me back together. The thought of you put me back together. I took your hand and I survived because of you. You saved me Annabeth.”

Annabeth is stunned into silence.

She has no doubt in her mind that if it were her in the Styx, she would've seen Percy and he would’ve saved her in the same way she saved him. But, it's different hearing it from him. It’s a rare feeling to know that this full-bodied, utter devotion (the kind she feels for him), is mutual. To hear it spoken out loud is almost unheard of.

She doesn’t have the words to articulate the supernova of emotions exploding her chest, so she kisses him. She kisses him with everything she has. Percy kisses her back with the same intensity. Percy’s kisses are safety and contentment and light. He’s so good with words (better with them than she is), and she thinks it translated into the way he kissed. He kisses her like he’s trying to say something--typically some shy declaration of the love that they both know is between them but tiptoe around speaking into existence.

He kisses with his whole body. He clutches at her waist like he couldn’t bear to let go, and she arches her back because she doesn't think she could bear it either. He occupies all five of her senses, the only thing she knows is him. Her hands are buried in his hair. He’s the sun, and kissing him is sunshine personified.

When she finally pulls back, he removes one of the hands gripping at her waist to slip into the junction between her collarbone and her jaw to keep their foreheads together. He keeps pulling her in his orbit, freckles like constellations, breaths mingled like they could survive on kisses and shared oxygen alone.

She thinks she’d like that.

Percy ends up curled on top of her, his head resting in the crook of her neck. One of her hands in his hair, the other on the small of his back like she can protect him with force of will alone.  They fall asleep the way they survive- anchored to each other.

...

[lumoshyperion]

I hope this is ok, but do you have any recs for canon compliant post cc scorbus? I like long but one shots are ok too. Thank you very much.

Ahhh, I must admit I'm a bit behind in terms of Cursed Child fics - particularly canon compliant ones, as my favourites have always been AUs. I've also been reading mostly fics from other fandoms lately, and before that I just didn't have the time? And I had a long fic rec list saved to my drafts, but it was a rookie mistake not having a backup because now it's been lost along with my old blog 😭

But I've put together just a couple of fics and anyone who has their own recs is more than welcome to suggest them! Either on this post or through my ask box, and I'll share whatever you rec! ❤

The Quietly Series by starlightpeddler Albus and Scorpius aren't sure what they're doing when their relationship starts to change, and they discover the complexities of balancing a relationship and keeping secrets while immersed in Hogwarts where nothing stays quiet for long. As they find their footing in uncharted territory, Scorpius finds out he bears a heavier burden than just the Malfoy name, and Albus realizes some things are more important than his life.

It's Tea Time Series by ellizablue Ginny Potter estimates it will only take three days into the Weasley-Potter family holiday for Albus to act on his feelings for his best friend. Albus estimates it will only take three days for him to die of embarrassment. And Scorpius, well. Scorpius is just glad to be there with Albus in the first place.

We Had Found the Stars by gobstoneswithhector Albus is just trying to get through Fifth and Sixth Year without imploding from the growing feelings he has toward his best friend. A post-Cursed Child, episodic slow burn about mending relationships and finding happiness.

a perfect heart's length away by trolleybitch Once the dust has settled after their fateful trip back in time to Godric's Hollow, Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy return to their fourth year at Hogwarts, but not everything falls neatly back into place. Memories of the suffering they witnessed won't be easily forgotten, their relationships with their parents are tricky to navigate, and their friendship is under more strain than ever. They find that sometimes, writing letters is the best way to express the things that are too difficult to say out loud.

sun sinks down, no curfew by dustyspines Albus and Scorpius never actually thought they would make it to the end of their seventh year in one piece. Except now they have and the entire wizarding world is waiting to see what the two of them do next. Nobody really expects them to take a month-long trip around Europe to escape from their impending future. But, Albus thinks, they've never had the simplest of lives, so why would they start now? A month away from the hustle and bustle of life at home is exactly what the two of them need after their recent escapades and perhaps, Albus thinks, it'll give him time to try and work out when Scorpius started to look so pretty in his eyes.

Christmas Isn't Cancelled by starlightpeddler Albus Potter isn't doing well after the events of Godric's Hollow. In fact, he's doing very poorly, and it's up to those who love him the most to help him through it. Even Scorpius can't seem to cheer him up, and it will take a Christmas miracle to break him out of this rut.

Magical Months by hogwartsahoy September is always the start of a new, fresh year for Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy. Told through the point of view of others close to them over the entire seven years at Hogwarts, each September brings a chance to start anew and grow for the two Slytherin boys, who grow closer and closer to each other as the years go by.

Conversations for a Rainy Day by SunshineScorpius A collection of ficlets following the conversations between Scorpius and Albus that take part on rainy days. A.k.a. SUPER soft boyfriend snippets.

petal-pink by the almostrhetoricalquestion In the middle of the night, some of the Slytherin Sixth Years swap Albus Potter’s shampoo out for hair dye. Pink hair dye. The consequences of this prank knock very politely on the window into Scorpius’s whirring brain, and, when he refuses to lift the latch, they proceed to batter it down and force him to face the truth. Albus Potter is extremely pretty, and Scorpius is a fool for not paying more attention to this fact.

[bloodstainsontengensfloor]

Tsumiki and Megumi childhood HeadCanons!

*some slight spoilers on what happened to Megumi’s dad

———————————————————————-

BEFORE the abandonment: 

-Megumi didn’t like Tsumiki when they first met. She was so happy... why? Like him, she only had one parent and didn’t have the nicest things. She smiled despite not having the nicest clothes, not having the nicest toys, and with not having a dad.

-They walked to school together and Tsumiki would just talk his ear off

-Megumi didn’t really warm up to her until he tripped and scraped his knee and Tsumiki’s entire cheerful demeanor changed and she went to fretting over him

-It annoyed him but at the same time... made him feel happy

-He warmed up to her gradually after that. She always checked in how he was doing as his dad started to check in less and less

-Megumi was aware that his dad didn’t care for Tsumiki’s mom as much as someone you married should, and was surprised when he found out that Tsumiki shared the same sentiments 

-Tsumiki and Megumi’s dad... she was a ray of sunshine to him of course and he... had literally no clue how to deal with it. He also didn’t like how a second grader was a better parent than him, but in the end... he knew Megumi would be in good hands 

-(If he stayed around, Tsumiki and Toji would have a relationship like Hori and her dad for Horimiya I take no arguments) 

AFTER the abandonment: 

-Megumi’s dad left first. he didn’t really understand what was happening or why his dad stopped coming to say goodnight and then stopped coming home at all

-Tsumiki was emotional over it for the sake of Megumi and her mom, and started to do little things like get Megumi small gifts when they would walk from school- little stuffed animals (the first one was a dog ofc), chocolates, candies, etc. 

-When Tsumiki’s mom left, leaving only a little money behind, Megumi expected Tsumiki to cry or shut herself in, but she didn’t. She took on the role of taking care of him and barley took care of herself. 

-He didn’t know why his non emotionally constipated sister wasn’t crying and was smiling. Why was she not showing her hurt? Her dad left her and her mom, and now her mom left her too. 

-”Don’t worry about it! She’ll be back soon!” Tsumiki had said when making breakfast for them. 

-Oh, Megumi thought, she was in denial. 

-When the denial ended, Tsumiki didn’t show any evidence of going through the other stages of grief. When he asked her about it one day, Tsumiki sighed, and looked really tired. “I saw it coming. I don’t remember my dad much, but I remember how he was in the days leading up to when he left.’ 

-”Stupid Sister,” Megumi said as Tsumiki tried to do the dishes. “Go to sleep. You suck at cleaning anyway.” 

-A year of them living alone was fine. Neither of them asked for anything too much and Tsumiki tried to hide the fact that the money was running low as a year was about to pass

-Megumi was having trouble sleeping one night and he and Tsumiki were playing hand shadows. and then. DOGS. Tsumiki screamed but then started coddling them whereas Megumi was just like shocked. 

-Megumi was confused at Tsumiki’s naivety but eventually the dogs melted into the shadows again  

-Enter creepy dude with white hair. 

-Tsumiki saw him talking to Megumi, got a broom, and attempted to whack this giraffe on the head 

-But infinity kicked in, and Gojo was invited inside to explain everything. 

-Literally everything. Tsumiki asked a lot of questions and was taking notes. If this was something Megumi would be involved in, she had to know as much as she could. They would have been more skeptical had Megumi not discovered   his technique. 

-Gojo stayed the night by accident, and woke up to Megumi and Tsumiki using the stove, cooking food etc and he wasn’t surprised that they could do this, but rather annoyed that a second grader and first grader could do this and he couldn’t. 

-When Gojo ‘officially’ became their guardian, he teleported into the house with party poppers and the certificate yelling “IM YOUR GUARDIAN!” 

-Tsumiki just was in shock for a moment before politely smiling. She was more of an adult than this teenager at this point. 

-Megumi just deadpanned and went “Why”. 

-They had a nice little dinner after that, and because Gojo would always spoil them, they both got luxuries they never had before. 

-They got like phones and ipads or ipods or whatever was the most popular product at the time. Tsumiki was so grateful and embarrassed whereas Megumi was annoyed but accepting. 

-Tsumiki and Megumi would eat dinner together, and with Gojo whenever he came 

-Tsumiki kept on trying to get Megumi to open up a lot more, and he always gets annoyed over it and will rarely ever talk about how he’s feeling

-Except that one night when Megumi had a nightmare that he was alone. Alone in the shadows, unable to summon anything to help him or comfort him, and just wandering down a dark, dark road. At one point, he entered a hall of mirrors, and he saw Tsumiki in one. He was so scared at that point that he kept on trying to get to her but she changed mirrors every time. Megumi shattered every mirror with his fists, cutting them open. In the end, all that was left was a lily flower. 

-Megumi, aged 10, woke up crying silent tears and ran into Tsumiki’s room. Tsumiki woke up, concerned but aware that her prying would get her nowhere. She sat up and Megumi hugged her so tight. He ended up sleeping in her room for the next week after that. 

-”Megumi..’ 

-” I’m gonna protect you-” 

-”i.... okay.’ 

-Tsumiki never curses... unless talking about her father, her mother, and Megumi’s dad 

-They are both aware Gojo killed him, he almost let it slip when first meeting Megumi and he relayed the info to Tsumiki. 

-One time, Gojo asked about Tsumiki’s parents. Megumi was asleep at that point and Gojo was terrified. 

-seeing the nice, angel, sunshine 12 year old he knew for years curse worse than Utahime whenever Gojo was remotely near her?? 

-Please, Tsumiki’s abandonment issues are off the chart. That’s why sometimes she gets too involved in Megumi’s life because she cannot lose him. No matter what. He’s her little brother who’ll scold her if she works too much or tries to take care of too many people. 

-Now... for some reason, I Headcanon Tsumiki has lesbian, or having at least some kind of wlw vibes. Idk why... 

-Tsumiki told Megumi first ofc, and he didn’t understand why it was a big deal. 

-”Ok and?” 

-”y-you don’t think it’s weird?” 

-”You can like who you like, it isn’t hurting anyone. If you wanna date a girl, date a girl.” 

-Tsumiki was grateful to have a brother like Megumi 

-Now as for Megumi’s possible coming out for whatever his sexuality (personally i headcanon him as pan, but this will be opened ended for whatever you headcanon) 

-Tsumiki just got so happy for him. Began researching everything about it. 

-”AWWW MEGS!!” 

-hugs. lots of hugs. Always. 

-As they got older, they started to but heads more. but despite whatever petty arguments or fights they had, at the end of the day, they loved each other and would do anything for each other. 

-and sadly... I gotta add some part of 

AFTER THE CURSE: 

-Megumi came in yelling and screaming. The denial?? He was convinced this was some prank to get him to stop fighting kids. 

-It broke Gojo’s heart. It was the most emotion he ever saw from Megumi and that kind of hysterical accusation of it being a prank soon dissolved into full on sobbing. Gojo hugged the boy as tight as Tsumiki would 

-”Never again... I’m... I’m going to get stronger. Then no curse will hurt her again... that’ll work right?” 

-Gojo patted the boy head. “Yea... it will. But it won’t be easy.” 

-Megumi’s emotions settled and he quickly wiped his tears away. His emotionless expression returned but it was different... There was more fire, more resolve, as he said “i know.” 

-Every Friday he visits Tsumiki. He tells her everything that happened in the week.

-”And then he ate it. Tsumiki he may be more naive then you. He ate the finger.” 

-When talking to Tsumiki, he reveals his ability to tell stories. Like it’s amazing. He can distinctively set up a scene  and gets a little more emotion  in his voice. 

-God Forbid if Kugisaki or Itadori ever saw him when he told Tsumiki stories

—————————————————————

WOO! This has been in my drafts for a while, so here! I hope you enjoyed!

Thanks for reading!

[knickynoo]

Hi! @/chickenmcfly1 here, I can’t actually send asks Bc my blog is a sideblog and idk how to work tumblr lol, but I realized I’d never sent you an ask even though I feel like we’ve rambled a lot on each other’s posts and I appreciate your takes so much so here’s one. What do you think the new 2015 McFly family is like? What is Marty like as a dad and what are jr and Marlene like (do they have the same names?) Etc. Have a good day!!

Yes, we do ramble on each other's posts a lot, don't we? And I think I've sent you a couple of asks at some point, so now that you've sent me one the cycle is complete. 😆

McFly fam 2015:

Marty is psyched to be a father (he's also very nervous, but mostly he's excited), and he's an emotional wreck when the twins are born and cries because he's so happy.

Jennifer, despite having gotten that look at the sad, dysfunctional version of her future family in 2015, feels a lot of hope as she and Marty really begin their life together. She's confident that she and Marty have grown enough as people and will make the right choices to help make a bright future for themselves as a family.

Though by the time his kids are born, Marty's had several years in his updated, more stable family, he's still obviously been shaped by his upbringing in the old timeline. As such, he's very focused on raising his kids with love, support, and encouragement. He protects them, but also allows them to try new things and experience the success and failure that comes with it. He corrects and guides them, but is careful not to be overly critical because he knows what it's like to feel like you're being put under a microscope and having your shortcomings pointed out.

Jennifer loves being a mother, and I can see her wanting to stay home for a while when the twins are young and just devoting her time to being with them. She takes them on outings to expose them to different experiences, has them in playgroups with the kids of her friends, and sets up all sorts of cute routines for them at home (afternoons where they do crafts, bedtime stories, etc).

Marty often fills the house with music. He writes and sings songs for the kids from the time they're born and has special songs for both of them.

Idk if I have many specific ideas on what Jr. and Marlene are like, but I do think that Jr. would be somewhat different than what we see in the movie. He's still shy and sort of discombobulated and easily flustered (takes after his dad that way), but he's not a complete pushover or easily manipulated/bullied by others. Marty and Jen, being much more involved in the new future, model to Jr. from a young age how to deal with those situations and stand up for himself. Plus, having parents who are in a healthy marriage and are overall happy really helps him to not be so anxious.

There's a draft of pt II where Marty (our Marty) is upset to discover that Jr. is in a remedial school, and while I don't like the way it's handled in the draft and am glad it was cut, I actually like that detail in general and am gonna insert it into the future I imagine for them. Mainly because I want to imagine future-Marty not being at all ashamed that his son needs help academically/has a learning disability, and instead being a father who lovingly supports Jr. and wants to do all he can to help him be successful.

Marlene is very independent from a young age. She definitely "mothers" Jr. to the point where Jen sometimes has to be like, "Um, hey. Hi. Yeah, I'm the mom, ok? Go and color or something."

Marlene and Jr. have their own lives and friends, but when it comes down to it, they're each other's best friend. They have all these weird, elaborate inside jokes that leave Marty and Jen scratching their heads because they just have no clue what is going on or what their kids are talking about.

Overall, the McFlys are a tight-knit, loving family. Marty and Jennifer create a wonderful life for themselves and feel happy and fulfilled. They never forget what could have been (and almost was) though, and it makes them all the more thankful for the choices they made and the way they've stuck together through the years.

SIDE NOTE: Doc is also very involved with the McFly fam because I said so, and also because his medical overhaul adding 40 years to his life allows him to continue to be around for a long time. He's known as Uncle Doc and Marlene and Jr. LOVE when he comes to visit because it's nonstop chaos and fun and he brings great presents. Although, they are a little confused as to exactly how old he is and try over the years to get a straight answer and figure it out but never can, so they eventually just accept that it's part of the mystery of Uncle Doc.

Thanks for the ask! Hope you have a good day too! Also, thanks for the quality responses you always add to my posts. =)

[ashlingnarcos]

unhinging my jaw like a massive fucking python rough draft Carrillo meta rambles, extremely rough draft Carrillo meta rambles

there’s really no reason for me to feel more nervous about writing for carrillo than for other characters but that’s where we’re at rn so I’m just. going to make a long ass list of things I know to be true plus other things I think are true plus other things I just pulled out of my ass smelling of roses ok???

violence as gateway to intimacy

i think for him intimacy and permissiveness are linked? in his head, it’s probably more that intimacy and shared values are linked. intimacy and trust are linked. intimacy and understanding are linked. but the specific instances of shared values, trust, and understanding that he responds to? are fucking war crimes, okay. it’s a really clear pattern for him, that once he receives assurances that the other person (whether that be Javi or Steve) is willing to cross moral boundaries to commit violence in service of the anti-Escobar cause, then that is, for him, basically the building block of a certain type of trust/intimacy/relationship. for him it’s about commitment. and a “we’re on the same wavelength” kind of thing. but it is, and this is key, expressed through permission to commit extreme, illegal, and arguably immoral violence

the pointlessness of one cruelty is key to understanding the thread of cruelty & revenge running through all of it

on the other hand I think there’s a streak of cruelty and vindictiveness in this which he himself never acknowledges? I’m thinking specifically of dropping people out of helicopters, over a forest. This isn’t something that he does to even have an intimidation factor. in all likelihood these bodies will not be discovered, given the remote location. also, while he attempted to extract information using fear of death, it clearly didn’t work, yet he still threw the last person out of the helicopter. so that’s about cruelty. even if it comes down to eliminating certain players, which frankly I don’t think it is as these were not super high level guys and could’ve easily done the old “rot in jail” thing—even if it WAS that, he could’ve just shot him in the head. to drop a man from that height, in a remote area, with nobody left alive to intimidate—that’s for one reason and one reason only, which is that you want him to suffer extra. that’s the difference between the helicopter and the bullet. it's about the fall. if we acknowledge that on at least one occasion, he committed an act of violent murder primarily out of revenge, vindictiveness, cruelty, sadism, spite, whatever, then I think it's perfectly fair to call into question how much of his other acts of violence are motivated at least in part by revenge & cruelty. I think it's fair to say that whatever the motivation percentage is, it's nonzero.

"i wouldn't judge him", loss, & responsibility looping back to intimacy

no but like there’s an element of responsibility, leadership, and camaraderie that is the other side of that violence coin. He specifically bonds with Javi over the killing of Gacha not only because it was a killing but because, in Carrillo’s own words, he is tired of sending young men to die, and it is implied that Gacha’s death is in some way rendering meaning to those deaths, preventing more of those deaths, or both. He speaks of widows and orphans and I don’t think he’s talking about them in the abstract, I think he’s talking about them as individual people, as a widow he personally had to talk to, a young orphan barely old enough to go to school that he’s tried to look in the eye. I think it must take courage, for someone who cares, to make the kind of decisions that will lead to more of these losses. I think even the most stalwart of hunters must sometimes doubt. I don’t think all the widows and orphans he speaks of really necessarily care whether the narco targets get killed—perhaps some do, but the children especially likely only want their fathers back. He can’t give them that, though.

Javi says that Carrillo has had several partners before, but in the show we mostly see him operating only as a commander or receiving orders—the closest to someone at his level, a peer, is Javi, and that’s just not the same. Trying to imagine how hard it would hit Steve or Javi if their partner died, that’s tough. We saw what Javi turned to after Carrillo was killed, how much of an influence that was on him. Now try to imagine what it must have been like for Carrillo, to have that happen several times.

We were not told, so we will never know, whether he stopped having partners because he himself couldn’t take it anymore, or whether he stopped having partners because no good soldiers were able and willing to take that risk.

us vs them & the magnifying effect of being cloistered

yeah so I think he dehumanizes his enemies to an extreme and that’s amplified by the way his whole world appeared to be separated into enemies and allies. Outside of his coworkers and his wife, who is he ever with? Who could he be with, when there’s such a large target on his back? Perhaps if he was less of a workaholic and got out into the world more, he’d experience more contact with people who aren’t engaged in the war, people who are trying to get by in a way that’s barely relevant to the war. As it is, his view is skewed because all he has are, broadly speaking, people who would gladly kill him if they could, and people who are risking their lives to further a cause he shares. That’s a world of extremes. In many ways, his sense of morality is less about rules surrounding specific acts and far more about teams. He approaches each person not as an individual but someone who he can place in the constellation of relationships that make up this war. It’s about context, it’s about history

I can see the bottom of the pool but just barely

You know how in Succession, Rhea says of Logan, “I can’t see the bottom of the pool?” As in, I don’t know how deep this darkness goes? I am both relieved and disgusted to announce that I have found the bottom of the pool. Unfortunately it is very deep, but it’s there. Notably, he told Pablo that he knew where Pablo’s family was, that he knew where Tata had shopped that day. Didn’t kill her, didn’t kidnap her. Clearly there is some type of divide in his head between civilian and non civilian, and she made it on the civilian side, however barely.

this part is specifically for the Javi x Carrillo shippers I know you're out there bless you’re doing the lords work

No but I’m serious the entire episode about getting Gacha and the way that Javi reacted to Carrillo’s death, what am I supposed to do with that??? There’s such an intimacy in the way Carrillo has left his fingerprints on Javi’s whole worldview and it’s so fucked up but there’s a form of memory there, there’s a kind of Javi carrying Carrillo forward. Leave me alone I’m fine. No but think about how he and Javi were just hanging out having dinner when Steve called with the information that led to the raid that killed Poison. “Cheap” okay but how is that not a date???? How is that not a date????? Genuinely how. These two clearly do not get much understanding and companionship on the level of “you know where the bodies are buried, both literally and metaphorically” and so. Just to have a little human understanding in what is usually an ocean of treachery—Carrillo has to eavesdrop on his own men to ensure their loyalty! He might have eavesdropped on Javi if he could, but I don’t think he could, and he went ahead and trusted Javi anyway. “Y yo en ti.” I am feeling so fine and normal about this rn okay

but what do we actually know about Carrillo's canon relationship and children?

Juliana had a pretty solid role in her own way as his wife. It’s a very traditional marriage, as far as I can tell, but it appears functional in every way except one. He’s relaxed and affectionate with her. Noticeably, I think the costume department gave her that green dress because it looks literally so much like an army uniform and I do think that Juliana serves in her own way. Her reaction to a knock at the door and her husband reaching for a gun is concern, but not panic. This is not something she’s unaccustomed to and it will by no means drive her away.

As for the fucked up part of things, aka she has no idea the lengths to which he will go and the literal children he will kill to achieve his goals, well, in a sad way I think that’s what makes the marriage work for him? He has a place, home, where he is very much just a straightforward good guy, adored, able to be domestic and happy. Doesn’t fear being judged.

But in a way I think that’s really wrong of him, to keep all of that from Juliana. If you’re living with a man, having and raising his children, taking his ring, sleeping with him, tending to his emotional and physical needs, that’s a level of support at which you’re definitely supporting him in his work and just the idea of waking up one morning to find out your husband is dead and also guess what he was a war criminal and you never knew…horror story. Genuinely think he did her wrong with that shit. It’s every woman’s right to Lysistrata the living hell out of a man whose actions she can’t support, but without knowing his actions, it’s like they were living in different worlds. Juliana was loyal in the face of literal assassination attempts and this is what she gets? She did nothing wrong, she deserved better treatment. And as I say, I see why he did it, but also, fuck you for that one Horacio in like a big fucking way

He wants control, right? He is used to getting it, at least among folks on his own side. He’s willing to be affectionate and soft, but on his own terms and with someone whose view of him he apparently tried to restrict a fair amount. So I’ll just let that thought marinate for a second…the gender roles and relations of it all too oof. OOF

There’s literally no interactions with his children. I can’t believe that he’d be massively neglectful given his general inclination towards duty and responsibility, but I also can’t believe that he’s home every night given how often and hard he works. It’s overtime on overtime afaik

Room to move and change

one question I’m always asking myself is, oh cool you have a character you love? How can you believably change them and/or fuck them up even worse?

The thing is, he’s a remarkably stable character throughout his two seasons. I can see his categorization of who is a civilian becoming smaller, his categorization of who is an enemy becoming larger, as part of a moral corruption arc. I really doubt at this point that he’d change in the opposite direction on those categorizations, and I doubt that he would narrow the list of things he’s willing to do to his enemies.

In terms of the other things that make him who he is, I could always try changing the external circumstances that provide the foundation of his life. I could remove his responsibility, which a pillar of his life, possibly even stripping him of military rank—who would he be if he wasn’t a soldier? That would probably severely fuck up his life and worldview. Similarly, he is beloved by his men and he is known for being incorruotible. What if that element was taken away? And as I’ve stated, I do think his home life is part of why he remains functioning despite the amount of stress and trauma that he’s enduring on the daily. So if you take away Juliana, you would likely get a man who a) tries to get that sense of stability, affection, and domesticity in other ways b) if he can’t, maybe is a workaholic to an unsustainable level ?? Oh don’t mind me I’m just crouching over my bubbling pot muttering about my potions and poisons I’m an old hag and imna ruin some lives it’s fine.

I should write a fic about his reputation being attacked specifically regarding his loyalty, his care for his soldiers, and/or his incorruptibility

NO but also what if he finally got Escobar? What then? Next up the Cali cartel? But here’s the thing, Cali doesn’t operate the way Pablo did. They would not have bombed a ducking airplane for starters. He would have a harder time justifying his all-out, no holds barred approach when it comes to them…unless he connected them to Los Pepes…which in turn would put some blame right back on him…no but would Los Pepes in the world of the show even get as much done as they did if Javi hadn’t turned to them jnthe wake of Carrillo’s death??? Man I’m losing it trying to think my way outta this one

Yeah I mean bottom line is I think there would be far less tolerance for his human rights abuses if he had a different enemy, one who tried to stay as clean-looking as possible and who treated the media aspect and the civilian casualties aspect way differently than Pablo did

Like ultimately the cops did take Pablo out, but in a way he took himself out by endangering his own operations. First eith his desire for love/political power, then with his increasingly bloody tactics. The part that really got him was the part in which he started killing so many civilians AND even some of his own allies out of a mix of rage, desperation, and paranoia. Without that, though, would Carrrillo as we know him even exist????

The tl;dr

Face: ten out of ten

Morals: zero out of ten but three bonus points for passionately pursuing what he thinks will better his country and caring for his men

Shoulders: ten out of ten

Javi chemistry: seven out of I don’t think they fucked and not all intimacy has to be romantic but like it deffo could’ve been you don’t gotta squint much

Marriage: ten out of ten but I’m docking it like six points because he kept her in the dark for the whole time about the war crimes

Bravery: eleven out of ten

Diagnosis: absolutely hopeless, he’s in a weirdlu politically symbiotic relationship with the worlds most powerful and violent drug dealer and all he wants is to kill him but the second he DOES kill him, he’s basically no longer the right man for the moment he’s basically the Pablo Acosta of unethical policing and I think he’d probably deal with it either by finding another white whale to hunt somewhere in the world or by, you know, doing a Pablo Acosta

[matbaerzal]

Love Notes | B. Boeser

Summary: Brock surprises you with a weekend camping trip. He sets up a scavenger hunt with clues for you to find out where he is waiting for you. A/N: I got this idea way back in June when I was out camping, and I finally put my mind into finishing it. let me know what you think 💕 Warnings: FLUFF, like one swear, gossip girl references & camping... Words: 3,5K Copyright © @matbaerzal 2020 All Rights Reserved Tagging: @powerblais​ because the photo is a screenshot of her gif 😅 & @tkachukme​ @captainkreider​ @yeeehaw-hockey​ @tysojost​ @puckbitchesgetmoney​ @canadianheaters​ @shirarihena​ 

Coming home from work on a Friday during the off-season you’d grown used to having Brock welcome you home, Coolie and Milo following after. So when you open the door and find the house empty you can’t help the frown that takes over your face. Though, as you see one of his perfectly folded notes on the fridge door, a smile takes over.

Brock liked leaving you little notes, he’d been doing that ever since you were in elementary school. Back then they were filled with stupid jokes or questions that could’ve definitely waited until after class. Now, they were filled with words of love and adoration. Regardless, they had always made you smile. You’d known him forever, you grew up on the same street, went to the same school and your parents had always been really close.

You walk over, putting your bag on the kitchen counter, before unclipping the note from the magnet on the fridge. You unfold it, scanning the paper quickly. It’s a bit lengthier than his usual notes, so you sit down on the island whilst you read the first sentence.

I hope you had a good day at work, sorry I’m not there to hug you and kiss you.

You smile to yourself, leaning your chin on the palm of your hand before reading the rest

But, I thought we could go camping this weekend. I’m already there, probably just finished setting up the tent by the time you read this. Before you join us there are a couple of things I need you to pick up for us. Each clue will bring you to a new location where you’ll find a new note.

Your first clue: The first time we kissed

Love, Brock x

This was new to you, not Brock surprising you with a weekend getaway, but the scavenger hunt. You bit your lip in excitement, reading the note again as your mind drifts off to when you first kissed - to figure out what his clue could mean.

You and Brock had a lot of almost-kisses as you were growing up. But, your first actual kiss happened when you were sixteen years old.

“All you ever do is watch gossip girl” he rolls his eyes, you poke your tongue out at him. “You’re free to watch it with me,” you say. Before you know it he’s laying his whole weight on top of you, and you can’t help but laugh in surprise.

“What are you doing?” you say through your laugh, and he has the audacity to shush you. “Brock?” you try to push him off of you, his weight crushing you, but he doesn’t budge, “will you calm down? I’m trying to watch,” he says, pointing at the TV.

“You’re the absolute worst” you gape at him. He finally looks at you with a smile, and he’s a lot closer than you thought, though he doesn’t seem to mind. You feel your heart beating against your chest as his eyes scan your face.

Like so many times before, your eyes drift down to his lips, and you feel his breath across your face. Like so many times before, you think you might actually kiss him - but at the sound of the end titles of an episode you’re hit with your reality.

You can’t kiss Brock - he’s your best friend. You don’t want to risk losing that for some silly crush.

You clear your throat, turning your head away from him, struggling to reach the remote so you can play the next episode. You don’t notice the defeated look in Brock's eyes as he adjusts his body, so only half his weight is on you, making it easier for you to reach the remote.

The two of you watch a few more episodes, but all you can focus on is him. You’re painfully aware of his hand and how it’s on your waist - his thumb mindlessly rubbing back and forth over the fabric of your hoodie. Though, even through the layers, you feel it - and it’s torture. His actions are so sweet but you know he means nothing by them, that he’s just mindlessly doing it.

“Hey, this show’s actually good,” he speaks up, making your focus shift to his voice instead.

“You’ve been laying here for 4 episodes, and you’re only just now realizing that?” you laugh.

“Well, in my defence, I wasn’t really focusing on the show”

“Oh? What were you focusing on, then?”

“What I always focus on,” he says matter of factly, confusing you further.

“And that is-?”

“You.”

A breath hitches in your throat, and you suddenly notice how his arm has tightened around you - as if you’d drift away if he didn’t hold you close.

“I always focus on you” he confirms with a low voice, but it feels loud to you, and his words make you dizzy.

He lets his hold of you go a little when you try to turn in his arms. It’s only when you face him again that you notice the deep breaths he’s taking, and the nervous look on his face. You’re close again, like before, and the same thought comes back.

His lips are parted, and they just look so soft and you wonder what it would feel like to just-

Suddenly you don’t have to wonder anymore as he presses his lips against yours. The kiss is cautious at first, but as you melt against him, it grows firmer. Your fingers thread through his hair like you’ve done this a thousand times before - like it’s what you’re meant to do.  

Anything else around you disappears as the two of you stay wrapped up in each other. The conversation about what it all means is a worry for another time - though, you’re not really worried about it anymore.

You touch your lips, remembering how his lips felt against yours then - how they still feel. Going over the moment again you try to figure out where his next clue might be. Then, you remembered how he’d bought you a box set of all the gossip girl seasons, and you wonder if he might have hidden it in the box.

Sure enough, when you take out the DVD covers, you find a note stuck to one of them.

Your second clue: The first note I gave you.

This time, you know exactly where to go as soon as you read the clue. Setting the note down on the counter next to the first one before going to the bedroom to get changed for the trip.

Your parents always told you, that at first, you found Brock annoying, all he wanted to do was shoot rubber disks at the wall by his garage - and even though he was polite and invited you to join, you could think of a million things that would be more fun.

Eventually, you grew bored of having to find other things to do, so you decided to take Brock up on his offer - only to discover that it wasn’t as easy as it looked. So instead, you decided put up targets on the asphalt in front of his garage for him to try and hit. Your teddybear, Cuddles, got the worst of it.

You were both 6 when Brock gave you his first note. It was more of a drawing really, of him hitting you right in the stomach with a puck. But the letters written with blue crayon unmistakably spelled out “I’m sorry”.

After getting changed and packing a few essentials, you grabbed your car keys along with the note and drove over to his parents’ house. You’ve barely made it out of your car before his mom comes out to greet you. “Hey honey,” she says rushing over to you, “Hi Laurie,” you lean into her hug. “Hey Duke,” you say, seeing him standing in the doorway over her shoulder.

“We’ve got something for you” she sings, her whole body language telling you there’s something she’s keeping from you. But you don’t press for it as you reach the doorway. Laurie goes into the house as you give Duke a hug. She reappears in a second with a sleeping bag in her hands. “Here you go, have fun camping” she sings, “thank you” you smile, giving them both one more hug before going back to your car.

With a million thoughts running through your head you get back in the driver seat, finding the note tucked into the side of the sleeping back before throwing it in the backseat. Before you unfold it you look back at Laurie and Duke, the same secretive smiles on each of their faces as they wave at you before closing the door. Before you overthink and look into things that might just be your imagination running wild, you unfold the paper.

Your third clue: Our first date

Though you shared your first kiss when you were sixteen, you didn’t have your first actual date until you were eighteen - according to Brock, anyways. See, after you kissed, the two of you just started dating, you didn’t need to go on “dates”, because you knew each other so well already.

And every time you went to the movies together or went to the lake - you didn’t really consider that to be dates, because you’d done all that before even when you were just friends. And while you weren’t too fussy on what was a date and what wasn’t, Brock had been insistent on one evening, in particular, being your first date.

You were out for dinner, just the two of you, celebrating the draft and him being selected by the Canucks. It wasn’t until the desserts came that he realized - “this is our first date”.

“What? We’ve been on plenty of dates” you laugh at him.

He doesn’t exactly disagree, but you know he’s about to contradict your words anyway.

“We’ve never dressed up and went out to a fancy restaurant before though,” he points out.

“True, but that doesn’t mean we haven’t been on a date before”

“Ok, so name the last time we went on a date, then” he challenges with a smile.

“Well, last Wednesday-”

“Being on the lake with my parents doesn’t count as a date” he argues.

You laugh, holding your hands up giving up the argument, “if you want this to be our first date, then - this, is our first date” you smile softly at him. He raises his glass, and you clink yours against it, “you’d think we’d be running out of firsts by now” you muse.

“Oh no, my love. We have a lifetime of firsts ahead of us”

It hits you then, just how well you and Brock know each other. No one else would have been able to answer that question but the two of you. Even if you asked your mom what she thought yours and Brock’s first date was, she’d just joke and say the first day you met - back when you were kids.

Well, there’s one other person that knows of that detail - the owner of the restaurant you went to, Nora. You and Brock had been there many many times by now and she would always come over and chat for a little while whenever you were there. After the two of you we’re old enough to drink she’d given you both some wine on the house - laughing as you both pretended to like the taste, just to be polite.

You could already see her as you parked your car across the road from the restaurant. You practically skip across the road after looking both ways.

Nora perks up when she sees you - the look she gives you reminds you of the way Laurie and Duke had looked at you earlier. As she hugs you and ushers you over to the counter you don’t have time to look into it too much. She disappears into the kitchen momentarily, coming back with a take away bag for you. You see the folded note attached to it instantly.

“Your favourite,” she winks, and you can smell the sweet chocolate chip cookies without even taking a peek at them. After you’ve taken the bag from her she looks around to see if anyones looking before bending down and getting a bottle of wine, quickly putting that into a bag as well.

“Nora, you don’t have to-” you start, only to be interrupted, “I know, but you know I can’t help myself” handing the wine over to your reluctant hand.

“Thank you” you smile at her.

“Anything for my favorite couple” she brushes it off.

You give her another hug before you walk out, skipping across the road to get back to your car. Once you’re back in your seat you remove the note from the bag, setting it down in the passenger seat along with the wine.

You bite your lip as you unfold the note, your eyes scanning the handwritten letters with wonder.

Your final clue: The first time I told you I love you

You picture the scene vividly in your mind, not having to think twice before putting the car in drive. You’d been to the small secluded clearing by the lake countless times with Brock, and shared many treasured moments with him there.

If you had to have guessed where the scavenger hunt would end up, it would be your first guess, and you loved him for being so predictable even in his adventures. As you drive down the familiar roads you think back to that moment, years ago, when you first uttered those words to each other back when you were seventeen.

You and Brock jumped at the chance to go camping together the first week of summer. Packing his car full of essentials, and only essentials. Because, according to Brock, a bunch blankets and pillows, fairy lights and s’mores were all under that category.  

He’d found the spot a couple weeks ago when he was hiking, and he instantly thought of you when he saw it. The walk wasn’t too long, and Brock carried most of your stuff anyways - you almost had to fight him for the few items you were carrying.

You sighed out after everything was finally set up, sneaking your arms around Brocks waist as his arm slung across your shoulders. Then, you went for a swim, staying in the water until your skin turned pruney.

After that, Brock got started on the fire as you set up your chairs right next to each other, and got all your snacks ready. When your stomachs were filled you fell into a comfortable silence, and you fished out a book from your bag that Brock had given you a little while ago. With your head leaned on his shoulder, you opened the book for the first time.

A surprised chuckle leaves you as a familiar looking piece of paper falls into your lap.

“I’m sitting right next to you, you know,” you say, showing him the folded note. “Well, it’s been in there since I gave it to you,” he says matter-of-factly, “not my fault you didn’t open the book until now”.

You unfold the note carefully with a small smile on your face, shaking your head at him. You do a double take as you take in the words he’s written down for you.

Three words, eight letters

You look up at him, a breath catching in your throat when you meet his eyes, “Brock-”

“I love you” he cuts you off. The way it leaves his lips is effortless, and it makes you completely melt. You’re torn between wanting to wipe the smirk off his face and kissing him. You decide on the latter, grabbing his cheek - leading his lips to yours.

You don’t kiss him for long, quickly realizing you didn’t say the words back to him, and they all but stumble out of your lips “I love you too”.

Your car pulls up next to his and you breathe in deeply when you step out, double checking that you have everything before you make your way over to the start of the path. Your steps are hurried, eager to see him, to wrap your arms around him - to kiss him.

You see the hints of the sun setting through the trees, and you know you’ll just about make it to see the colors change.

You hear the water before you see anything and as a twig snaps under your foot you hear Coolie and Milo bark out for you. Coolie comes running up to you, and you kneel down to greet him before letting him lead the last of the way to Brock.

As the site comes to view you instantly feel relaxed. There’s a soft breeze, warm against your skin. The sun reflecting on the tiny waves in the water, the clouds have turned light pink as sunset comes near.

Your breath is taken away from you as you look over at Brock, he’s hung up what seems like hundreds of fairy lights in the trees by the tent. You’re barely able to look away from the scene as Milo comes up to you. You look at Brock in awe as you crouch down to pet Milo, giving him a short kiss before standing up to walk over to Brock.

“What’s all this for?” you say as you approach him. He doesn’t answer as he takes your items out of your hands, setting them down before kissing you deeply, making your mind go blank for a moment, getting lost in the kiss.

“Hi,” he finally says - you’re not able to get a read on the look on his face.

“Hey” you laugh, confusion still evident in your voice, looking at the scene again as if to make sure it was real.

Then, he takes your hand, biting his lip as he plays with your fingers, he almost seems out of breath now that you study him closer. He takes a deep breath before a smile takes over his face as he speaks.

“I’ve been searching for the perfect moment, for the perfect way to do this. Because you deserve the world - and more. This idea popped into my head months ago, and fuck- waiting till the season to be over and then waiting for both our schedules to clear has been near torture”

He huffs out a laugh before continuing, “but, I wanted everything to be perfect, even though I almost slipped up a couple times - like the time I was practicing what to say as you were sleeping and I thought I woke you up. You’re my world, and I couldn’t imagine my life without you-”

The way he says your name then, is unlike any time before. It’s not like how he says it in the morning or when he’s about to give you something that reminded him of you. It’s almost like when he’s telling you he loves you, but it’s so much more than that.

Your heart beats a mile a minute as you predict what he’s about to say, but nothing could’ve ever prepared you for what he does next. He takes a small velvet box out from his pocket as he gets down on one knee in front of you.

“Will you marry me?” his voice breaks a little as he takes in your glossy eyes, tears threatening to spill from his own as he opens the box to reveal the ring.

“No way-” you cry, the words stumbling out of your mouth. You can’t believe it, how lucky you are to have this man in your life and here he is, asking if he can spend the rest of his life with you.

A laugh leaves his lips at your words, because although you’d said “no way” your whole body was screaming “YES!”. A hand covering your quivering lips, a tear falling down your cheek as you nod. He stands up wrapping his arms around your waist, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you nuzzle into his neck.

Your feet lift off the ground as he spins you around, a joyful laugh leaving both your lips. He carefully sets your feet back on the ground and your hands slide to thread through his hair, urging his lips to yours.

“Yes- yes of course, I’ll marry you” you murmur, he nudges his nose against yours - leaving another kiss to your lips. Then his hand slides up your arm, gently taking your hand again, leaving it to rest on his chest. His other hand, still grasping the box comes between your bodies as he takes the ring out before grasping your hand again.

A breath catches in your throat as he slides the ring onto your finger, your free hand caressing his cheek, wiping the stray tear away.

You’d spent the day reminiscing over your past with Brock and now your mind travels to the future. Looking forward to spending it with him, and knowing that you’d have each other through the good and the bad - like you’d always had, like you always will.

[xiaomoxu]

MLQC CN Victor - Chapter 37

SPOILER ALERT!!

A main story from CN server which hasn’t been released in EN server. REALLY contains detailed spoilers. A mixed feelings such angst, sweet and love-his-dummy by CEO Victor!

PART 1

Downstairs LFG, the film crew is still busy in an orderly manner.

A month ago, LFG launched an unprecedented charity project, mobilizing all the resources of the group, and watching the last moment before the arrival of the comet group with all mankind.

In addition to regular material donations, psychological counseling, and medical assistance, there is also a special item one wish list.

In the last issue of "Miracle Finders", we selected this subject for reporting.

Photographer: Everyone pay attention, go one first, and prepare the light for one-

Teenager: Ok, can I just say the words directly?

Willow: To put it straight, there is nothing to worry about, we can do it again, let's do it again!

The teenager was encouraged, and smiled and showed two small teeth.

Teenager: I am seventeen years old. I am an ordinary high school student. Although you can't see it now, I have lived in darkness for these seventeen years.

Teenager: Due to chromosomal abnormalities, I have suffered from congenital blindness since birth...

Teenager: The doctors all said that despite the advanced level of medical technology, they are still helpless against such diseases and hope that I will accept the reality.

Teenager: But I still don't give up. I don't want to usher in death without actually seeing the world, so I contacted LFG Group with the last hope!

Just as the teenager expected, LFG quickly found a Healer Evolver on the Island, and treated him so that he finally saw the light.

Teenager: Although I can only look at the world for a short time, how many times in a person's life can I witness miracles happen? I am very satisfied!

After he finished speaking, he gave everyone a young and a little embarrassed smile. The beautiful dark eyes are full of light, especially bright in the night.

MC: ... That's nice.

Until the last moment, miracles continued to happen.

I raised my head and looked at the towering LFG Building in front of me, thinking back to Victor when he started the project and jokingly said-

"I hope everyone can be like an idiot, as long as they fulfill their wishes, they will be happy." The tone couldn't help but felt a moment of surprise.

I hope that the last issue of "Miracle Finders" will produce satisfactory answers to him.

With emotion, I strode into the LFG Building.

--

At this time, most of LFG's staff has left, and most of the work spaces in the building have been vacated.

Even if some are still willing to suspend their posts and help Victor handle some charity projects, they are no longer sitting here and only exchange information via phone and email.

Goldman: I have been waiting for you for a long time!

I was still in a daze, and Goldman came over with aggrieved expression. Probably because I told him that I was almost there an hour ago, but I didn’t come up because shooting for most of the day in the downstairs town.

As soon as he saw me appear, he cast a "God finally" look.

Goldman: The CEO handed it to you, I'm going to prepare for the next meeting.

He hurriedly put the previously prepared contract into my hand, lightly approached the door of the CEO's office, and knocked the door.

Victor: Come in.

Hearing Victor's voice coming from behind the door, I quickly hid the hand holding the contract behind my back.

Goldman opened the door halfway and walked in.

Goldman: CEO, can we conduct an induction interview now?

Victor: Interview? When is it scheduled?

Goldman: Yesterday, I remember it was in your schedule.

After a short silence, Victor gave instructions indifferently.

Victor: Bring it in.

I strode forward, held back a sneer, and stood still in front of Victor. Before speaking, Goldman hurriedly took the door out, leaving a room of silence.

MC: Hello, CEO! I am the candidate for interview today!

I said hello to Victor very politely, and even bowed symbolically, with a sincere expression when I raised my head.

Victor: ....

Victor let out a sigh of relief, as if he had lifted his spirits from a long and exhausting work, and couldn't help but laugh when he met my sincere gaze.

MC: Reporting to the CEO, although I have limited work experience, I am active in doing things.

MC: The CEO of the most ruthless venture capital company in the industry has won a 500 million investment!

MC: Moreover, the level of stress resistance is first-rate, no matter how big the challenge is, how many plans are rejected, you can face the difficulties!

MC: In addition, I am quite familiar with LFG's business and can start working in a short time.

Victor sighed lightly, probably because I was too noisy.

Victor: Only you can make such boastful remarks without blushing at all. You come to LFG, don't care about your company?

MC: The final issue of "Discovering the Miracle" will soon be filmed, and sister Anna will be responsible for the remaining post-production work. I don't need to worry about it anymore.

MC: I always find a place to shine and heat, right?

MC: Or I have to be a rice bug for a month...

MC: In short, I am especially willing to share the worries and problems for the CEO

Victor touched his lips slightly, revealing a smile.

Victor: Didn't you often say that being a rice bug is your ultimate dream? Now that you have a chance to realize your dream, but you are not willing?

He was so eloquent, so that scenes of past scenes of bluffing and saying that I didn't want to go to work really appeared before me.

MC: But I have already changed my dreams.

I stepped forward two more steps, narrowed the distance with Victor, and stared quietly into his eyes

MC: My dream now is to be with you.

The outline of Victor's smile on the corners of his lips curled up, and his expression sank duplicity, and put out the CEO's frame in a serious manner.

Victor: LFG’s attendance system is strict, and the consequences of absence are serious. Be mentally prepared.

I walked up to him, took out the contract that had been hidden behind my back, and unfolded it on the table.

MC: I won't be absent, I will do what you say.

Speaking softly, pressing his usual fountain pen directly on the contract, it seemed to be "forcing the signing".

MC: If I can't do it... I will be punished.

Victor hastily flipped through the contract, which was only a few pages long, and paused as his gaze passed by the post.

Victor: Confirmed?

MC: Yes!

I deserved to be confident and without any explanation. Victor raised his head and looked at me with a clear smile in his eyes. He turned the contract another page.

Victor: The contract is valid for three years.

MC: Huh? It should be the contract template copied by Goldman, right? Renew after the three-year period expires!

Victor neatly signed his name on the last page, stood up and took my hand.

Victor: Let's go, the meeting is about to begin.

MC: What meeting? Wait, am I going to work as soon as I start?

Victor: According to the contract, every minute of yours belongs to me, and it takes effect immediately.

Is there such an unequal clause? Goldman's drafting of a contract is quite tricky

MC: You capitalists are squeezing employees too much!

Victor was slightly late to me, with a smile on his lips.

Victor: Well, capitalists are like this.

The conference room was already full of people, only the first two seats were still empty.

One of them is where Victor often sits.

I remember when I came to LFG for a meeting for the first time, I could only sit on the small bench in the corner and couldn't see his face even when I stretched out my head.

 Victor: let's start.

I sat down next to Victor, glanced across the crowd, and leaned silently on the back of the chair.

Goldman opened the prepared PPT and stood in front of us.

Goldman: Now carry out the relevant reports on the work of last week,

PART 2

A sign hung at the door of Souvenir, which said that today is the last day of the restaurant’s business.

MC: Thank you for your preference for this restaurant, Souvenir will permanently close the store

LFG provoked too heavy responsibility, and Victor had no time to take care of Souvenir. I raised my head and looked at the blue light on the TV tower.

During the eternal night, the TV tower is bright yellow during the day and blue at night, marking the day and night. These days, people have been accustomed to measuring time in this way.

It seems that no matter what kind of predicament they are in, as long as there is a moment of peace, people are willing to steal a moment of peace and delay satisfaction.

I am no exception.

With Victor in front of the wind and rain, I even occasionally forget the reality that I am about to face, can let go of all my worries, and be silly in front of him carefree.

If time can be reversed, I can go back to the first time I stood in front of Souvenir...

I lowered my gaze and pushed the door into the restaurant.

MC: Mr. Mills, I

Before I could say hello, I was stunned by the scene before me.

Souvenir, who had always been cold and cold, is now full of voices, all seats are full of seats, even those who have never been before, and he has added new chairs.

Mr. Mills was busy between the tables with a smile on his face.

I hurried over to ask if I need help.

MC: Mr. Mills, shall I do this?

I was about to take the tray from Mr. Mills, but he shook his head hurriedly.

Mr. Mills: No, no, it's going to close in a while, the manager is waiting for you inside.

MC: Alright!

I walked towards the kitchen, and along the way, I was surprised by the food on the guests' table.

Like what the customer wanted to eat, Victor made something for them.

At the last moment, Souvenir's rules are no longer important.

Girl: Mom, this one is delicious, so delicious!

Six or seven-year-old children ate the little cakes with all their faces, holding their little hands and sending the spoons to their mothers, wanting their mothers to taste them too.

The young mother cooperatively ate the cream in the sentence and smiled hesitantly. She gently touched her daughter's head, but her eyes were full of sighs.

The family at the table next door talked about the topic of the younger son's college entrance examination this year, and they were rushing to plan for his future. They seemed to believe that someone would come out to save the world.

I stepped into the restaurant and walked into the back kitchen.

MC: Victor....

He stood at the window with his back straight. There was a deep night outside. I dazzled my eyes to see his black suit melt into the darkness, lonely and silent.

I walked over and pulled his sleeve slightly.

MC: Have you been busy all night?

MC: You can call me over in advance, and I can give you a hand.

Victor: With your culinary skills, you can't match up with Souvenir's back kitchen.

Victor glanced at me from the corner of the light, smiled faintly, and closed the slightly open window.

The moment he raised his hand, I saw that the pointer on his wrist watch was already three o'clock in the morning, but everyone didn't realize that the night was deep.

The world freezes in the dark, making time lose all meaning.

MC: The guests outside all had a good time.

MC: By the way, there was a little cake that a kid ate, with a few blueberries on top, and a layer of soft stuff inside. I don't know if it's ice cream... it looks super delicious!

Faced with my vivid expressions, Victor looked helpless as expected.

Victor: Three year old are not as good as you in eat. A pair of eyes fixed on the food all day long.

MC: Isn't it great? I will eat everything you make clean and happy, and I will change my way to praise your superb cooking skills!

I used an exaggerated tone to learn the child's way of speaking, trying to make Victor smile, but he still looked calm.

Victor: Ah, very good.

Those eyes that met me were as light as water, and they saw an unspeakable feeling in my heart. After he came back, something changed in his eyes.

I can't be sure, but I just faintly feel that the person standing in front of me at this moment is stronger than before but also lonelier than before.

In the past, silence was due to work habits and character.

The silence now means that no matter what you face, you can be calm and calm. The calm is strange.

MC: Victor, seven of the travel coins you gave me have not been exchanged. You said before that you would do everything you promised me.

I changed the subject suddenly, and Victor was still indifferent.

Victor: Seven? Didn't you secretly put a lot in the box again?

MC: … you’re not paying attention.

Victor: Really, when I don't pay attention?

The silence of the night was always reflected in his eyes, brewing the silence deeper.

MC: So you won't break your promise, will you?

MC: Everything you promised me will be honored in the future, right?

Perhaps it was because my words were too impatient to be too direct, Victor finally touched my hair as if calming down, and stepped forward to get closer to me.

The familiar temperature fell on the front of my forehead, which made my panic feelings find support.

Victor: Don't worry, I won't break my promise. Not now, and not in the future.

At this moment, I saw a slight surge of joy in his eyes.

Mr. Mills: Mr. Victor.

Mr. Mills walked in slowly, smiling.

Mr. Mills: Mr. Victor, after proofing today, I would like to continue to look after the restaurant. Please allow me.

Victor: Mr. Mills

Victor took two steps forward and solemnly nodded to Mr. Mills.

Victor : Of course. Over the years, thank you very much for taking care of Souvenir.

Mr. Mills turned to look outside the kitchen.

Mr. Mills: The guests all had a nice evening, and they hoped that I would convey my thanks to the chef.

Victor: It is..

Victor paused slightly and thought of something.

Victor: Excuse me, please take out all the wine in the cellar and give it to the guests tonight.

Mr. Mills: .... I understand. Do you need any congratulations?

Victor turned his head and looked at me, raising the corners of his lips indifferently

Victor: Just thank time for giving us abundant food and accumulated wine... With the feelings that have passed through the years.

Outside the window, the silent snow fell slowly in the dark night. In the cool night breeze in midsummer, a layer of untimely coolness blows off.

PART 3

Victor: Is this your specialty?

MC: Do you look down on tomato scrambled eggs?

Victor did not speak, but frowned slightly to express affirmation.

MC: The scrambled eggs with tomatoes are delicious. You can't judge the taste of a dish by its difficulty. I feel wronged for him.

When the Haikou that I once boasted was fulfilled, I vowed to make a rich meal for Victor.

Victor probably feels a headache for me to prepare a home-cooked meal and have to put out ten kinds of kitchen utensils...

He has been standing in the kitchen supervising the work since the beginning, and I don't know if he's afraid of what would happen to the kitchen or what'd happen to me .

MC: Can you stop staring at me like this, I'm nervous.

Victor: What is the guilty conscience?

MC: It feels like waiting for you to approve the plan.

MC: I dropped the eggshells into the bowl when I was beating the eggs just now, I was thinking that you must spit me out.

Victor took out a bottle of red wine from the wine cabinet and unsealed it skillfully.

Victor: I'm used to it as you are.

I dealt with the ingredients in my hand and smiled without saying a word.

In the fireplace in the living room, the wood made a snapping sound under the lick of the tongue of fire, and it sang softly to the piano music from the record.

The fine snow outside the window disappeared into the night as soon as it fell to the ground, and time seemed extremely long at this moment.

I carefully handled the ingredients in my hand, and did not notice Victor's gaze.

He put down the wine glass, the glass collided with the marble countertop, and there was a pleasant sound.

At this moment, the night snow stopped in the air, and the fire and the record were speechless. The whole world stopped, and everything was quiet.

Victor: If I let time eternally stop at this moment, would you think I am selfish?

He murmured, as if asking himself or answering himself.

Staring silently at her profile for a while, he stretched out his hand and silently hugged her in his arms.

This is an overly tender hug, without a trace of strong attitude, even the palms that are close to the back appear cautious

MC: Victor...

I stretched out my hand and hugged him tightly without leaving any gap.

Victor took a breath, as if he didn't expect that I would break away from his Evol, but didn't say anything.

MC: If I were not the dignified Queen, I would be completely controlled by you. Your Evol is stronger than I imagined.

He laughed and teased me helplessly.

Victor: It's amazing.

Although he was smiling, I heard a dumb sigh in his voice, so I opened my arms as much as possible to hold him tighter.

MC: Not even...

I stayed securely in his arms, with no intention of leaving this embrace.

MC: It’s just that I always remember the reason why I want to fully awaken, because I don’t want to let you bear everything. Always remember.

This dinner took longer than expected. When we sat down on the sofa in front of the fireplace with red wine, the night was already almost reaching the sky.

For all this time, I have a lot to say to him.

Whether it is the heated discussions in the recent issues of "Discover Myself" or the process of LFG helping people realize their wishes one after another, I am deeply moved.

A couple wanted to go to a very famous sea island to watch the sunset before the end. Unexpectedly, before the trip, the island disappeared overnight.

MC: In fact, I also feel that it was a pity that I couldn't help them realize their wishes. I had seen that island before on the Internet.

MC: At that time, it was also selected as one of the "Top Ten Scenic Spots to Go to Before the End", I did not expect to be submerged by the sea so soon...

Victor: This is what you often say, do what you think of, and don't leave any regrets for yourself. Sometimes impatient fools can do things that many people can't.

I listened to every detail and smile in his voice, and my fingertips drew across the texture of the leather on the sofa.

The more I get to this kind of time, the more I feel that even his laughter seems precious.

MC: But I was a little surprised. The wishes that everyone wants to achieve before the end are so simple.

MC: Look at the light, look at the world, eat a delicious meal with the most important person.

Victor: What people really want has always been very simple. Before that, it was only controlled by desire.

Victor: No matter how long this moment of tranquility can last, for many people, it is enough to enjoy the life they still have.

MC: It is not easy to find the true desire in the heart.

Victor put the empty glass on the coffee table.

Victor: What about you? What is your wish?

After drinking a few glasses of wine, my thoughts were empty. I only heard his low and hoarse voice falling in my ears, and many pictures flashed before my eyes.

MC: I want to see your heart.

I turned to Victor and wanted to find the answer to this question very seriously.

MC: I want to see the real Victor. Without the burden of the CEO, there is no need to worry about the world...

MC: I can put down all the responsibilities on my shoulders, just be yourself... In this way Victor, What will it be like?

He paused for a few seconds, but quickly laughed faintly.

Victor: People cannot put aside all the past and responsibilities independently. In front of you, Victor will always be the most true.

I turned to him, stared at his deep eyes carefully, then stretched out my hand and slowly touched the position of his heart.

When the five fingers fell slowly, I already felt the warmth under his shirt.

A little closer, and the fingertips rubbed the texture of the shirt, and soon, my palm felt the rhythm of his heartbeat warm and powerful.

Victor: ...

With a sigh, Victor reached out and held my fingertips lightly.

Suddenly, the scene before me changed.

PART 4

This is a space I have never seen before.

The solitary galaxy and the dazzling sunlight are constantly flashing in front of my eyes, just like every ray of time that has been inscribed in memory, the brilliance of the moment only flashes, making it impossible to capture.

MC: Victor

He was sitting in the seat directly in front of me, proud and lonely.

All the changes in the stars passed through his silent and deep eyes, and he just stared lightly.

Time passed, he had been sitting like this, his back was straight, his eyes were firm, and he was silent without a word, yet he caught every light and shadow in his eyes.

He seemed to had been sitting here for thousands of years.

For a while, my heart felt like being held down by a deep sea-like loneliness, which made me breathless. After a slight pause, I walked along the long carpet to him.

I squatted down in front of him and looked up at him.

He lowered his head and met my gaze, as if waking up from a long wait, with loose eyebrows at the corners of his eyes.

I stretched out my hand, my fingertips slowly climbed over the edge of his slender finger, and squeezed him from the gap between the slightly bent fingers.

At this moment, I recovered, seeing Victor's eyes reflected in the fire of the fireplace.

We don't know since when we clasp our fingers together and hold our hands together.

In a silent night, only the firewood was still snapping.

MC: Victor, are you tired?

Victor: What do you mean?

MC: Everything.

*All the fatigue of endlessly walking through the timeline, all the tragedy you had to witness, all the pain that you had to bear, all the hopes that you've repeatedly dashed countless times .

MC: You said that it is enough to enjoy your current life before the end. You already know the ending, understand the truth, or do you want to move on?

Victor: Not enough.

Victor spoke softly, but every word made a sound.

Victor: I am not someone who can transcend desires, I also have my own desires.

He doesn't need to say anything, I already know everything.

I curled up on the sofa, silently nestled in his arms, clasped his waist tightly with my hands, and fell on his sturdy chest.

Victor pulled the blanket and put a light hand on my shoulder.

With fire light and falling snow, the sound of two hearts beating is clear.

I know that I am embracing the most real Victor, the extremely real Victor.

PART 5

Time passed quietly, and it came to the last moment.

The whole city is shining bright neon under our feet. Busy and calm-as usual, as if we can wait for every night in the morning light.

MC: Victor, when you brought me here for the first time, did you expect the world to become like this?

Victor shook his head.

MC: So what was the anxiety in your heart when you stood here?

Victor turned his head and looked at me, then smiled.

Victor: It is impossible to completely hold a fool in his hand, hold it tightly, and keep her from leaving.

MC: Did I make you worry a lot? I know you have been looking for me for a long time.

Victor: Not long.

Victor: After experiencing real time, I only feel that the years when I found you were as short as you went to buy me a cup of coffee

Heard what he said, I couldn't help being reminded of memories long ago.

MC: I just thought you were really harsh and annoying. There were so many conditions for asking me to buy a coffee.

MC: .. Now, I really want to buy it for you again

MC: No matter how many weird conditions you have, I will never get it wrong again.

Victor looked towards the boundless sky with emotion. In the night, countless meteors slowly fell, dazzling light across the blue to dark night sky.

It's not long since 19:17.

MC: Victor, I want to do something very important.

Victor: I know.

MC: But I just want to be your dummy and live the most ordinary and ordinary life.

MC: Let you have endless heart and endless planning plans every day, and bring you all kinds of trivial troubles.

MC: Then in the blink of an eye, you can...

With tears in my eyes, crying was already entrained in my voice, so I refused to continue.

Victor: She also said that she didn't like crying anymore.

I took a few breaths and stubbornly held my voice.

MC: I didn't cry!

Victor stepped forward and held me tightly in his arms. Surrounded by the familiar smell, I closed my eyes and gripped the corner of his suit with my hands.

My only wish is to be with him.

It’s okay to laugh and being embraced in his arms like this, I don’t want others.

But more important than this wish...

It's him. He can't just usher in the ending like this.

MC: When I come back, I will bring you a cup of coffee.

I grab his arms and made a promise, and he softly responded by caressing my hair.

Victor: Alright.

MC: That’s all? Don’t you have anything else to say?

MC: In the past, you always remind me about the deadline of my proposal, you would remind me not to oversleep like an elementary school kids for the meeting the next day.

MC: At this important moment, don’t you have something else to say?

MC: I’m going to do something big this time.

Victor loosened his arms around me slightly and looked at me.

Victor: I know.

Victor: But you’re no longer a dummy you used to be, there’s nothing you can’t do.

I have already understood his calmness from his eyes. As expected, I can’t still beat him. 

I want to say something, but I felt something. There were snow-white feathers on my fingertips.

There is no time.

I subconsciously grabbed Victor’s hand--  

MC: Victor..

My heart was overwhelmed by the huge perseverance, I almost called his name from the deepest part of my throat.

As he was holding me, there’s deep complex look between his brows.

Victor: Are you afraid?

I kept shaking my head, shaking my head anxiously!

It is not fear, nor regret, no matter what is waiting for me in front of me, at this moment I will walk firmly.

But even so, I still want to stop for another moment, a moment is enough for me to call his name again, to look at him again. .

Even... hoping that time can stop at this time.

I don't want to let go of his hand.

Victor hugged me with one hand, lifted my chin, and dropped a deep lingering kiss. 

During the exchange of our breathing, I looked into his squinted eyes & saw a love that I had never seen before.

The tears that kept spinning in my eyelids were still drawn from the corners of my eyes when I was on my post. I gripped his shirt tightly, very tightly.

Aware of my silent choking, Victor clapped his hands and wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes with his index fingers.

Victor: Don't be afraid. No matter how difficult things are in front of you in the past, can't you always do well?

Victor: This time, there will be no exception.

The scene in front of me and his voice were slowly dissipating, and I looked at him deeply, unable to say a word.

I clearly felt that Victor held my hand tighter, tighter than ever, as if he wanted to keep me too.

Like he didn't want to leave me alone.

He opened his mouth, what he was saying, but I couldn't hear anything and my senses were blurred.

Victor: ...Remember, to get me back.

MC: What?

I vaguely heard something, but couldn't be sure.

The white wings spread out in the dark night, and the sky is connected one after another, and the scattered white wings sit on the tall buildings together with the meteor, and fall into the street...

Victor let go of my hand and stepped back half a step, his eyes showed unprecedented joy.

MC: Victor!

Victor: I....

He was telling me something. His deep voice was mixed with a firmness that I've never heard before, but I could only vaguely recognize the words that I wanted to hear the most from his mouth. After that she calls his name

MC: Victor...

The sight was finally dark, and Victor's deep gaze disappeared in front of me.

The city fell into the night amidst the noisy shouts-

Victor slowly opened his hand and caught a piece of pure white feather in the air. The corners of his lips were gentle, his eyes drooping slightly.

That feather just lay quietly on his palm, soaked in moonlight, as slender as she looked at him at the last moment.

---- END ----

I’m sorry if there’s some mistranslation. Kindly tell me if you found some :) thank you for read it~ ^^

[yunhowhoitiss]

𝐜𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐮𝐦

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭!𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐟𝐞𝐦)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k+

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, fantasy au (?), slow burn, angst if you squint, ft co-worker jongho :)

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You’re finally starting to make ends meet when you start working at your school’s local café, but the world is so full of surprises.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: reader panics a bit(?)

𝐚/𝐧: I came up with this at 4am a couple days ago so it’s not my proudest, but I felt bad just letting it sit in my drafts so here you go :) enjoy!

masterlist

The gentle smell of freshly baked pastries, accompanied by the stronger aroma of ground coffee beans, wafted through the comfy café. There was a constant chatter as customers scattered around the joint whilst waiting, disguising the soft hum coming from behind the coffee machine. Your face was out of sight, except your hair peeked out above the espresso machine where you were pouring a latté, entertaining yourself by decorating a small heart in the foam. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as your eyes turned to soft crescents when soft wisps of your hair had fallen out of your bun and across the sides of your forehead. The steam floating from the cup caressed your hands as you picked up the mug along with an assortment of macaroons. 

“Order for Julie: four macaroons, a chai latté, and an espresso affogato, extra dry!” You announced through the coffee shop, turning a few heads. 

You made your way back to the station to continue other orders but stopped as you noticed something missing; you had run out of cinnamon to top off drinks. Your coworker ought to know where another carton would be, so you turned towards the kitchen to find him wrist-deep in bread dough. 

“Jongho, where are the extra containers of cinnamon again?”

“Oh, those are in the grey cabinet below the pastry display,” he smiled back, all the while kneading the dough. 

Flashing him an ‘ok’ sign, you headed back to the front of the shop. You hadn’t been working at the Crescent Café very long, but you happened to be a pretty fast learner, according to Jongho; you could make latte art before other trainees could even make a latte. Quickly getting back to work, you served a customer until something caught you eye whilst jotting down an order on your notepad; had the writing been on your wrist all day? It must just be something I wrote down earlier, you thought.

As the sun made its way towards the horizon, you returned to the comfort of your small apartment to freshen up, eat dinner, and momentarily forget your academic responsibilities— homework, ugh-- before heading to school again the next day. You entered you apartment with a relived sigh and threw your keys onto a nearby dresser, mumbling "I'm home" to nobody in particular. Too lazy to go to your room, you simply undressed as you walked towards the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothing behind you. Note to self: clean that up later. 

The moment you stepped into the shower, your shoulders loosened as the hot water washed away your tension. The writing on your wrist caught your eye again. Scrutinizing the messy handwriting, you saw what seemed to be a shopping list. 

“Eggs, lucky charms, and aftershave,” you read aloud. 

Aftershave? I don’t use that. Could it be… you were lost thought, not noticing the warm steam filling the bathroom. You rubbed at your soapy skin frantically in an attempt to wash off the pen, to no avail. Lately, although rarely, you’d started to notice small bruises or random marks on your skin; you’d never seen writing, though. You briefly wondered if there was possibly another person causing this, but you only saw such things in movies or books... right? 

Your heart rate started to pick up, and a heavy sensation built up in your chest. It isn’t possible, it can’t be. The cramped space of your shower started to feel suffocating. Nearly slipping, you jumped out of the shower and dried yourself off. You got dressed in whatever shirt and sweats you found hanging around your bedroom. Was something wrong with you? Am I imagining things? I’m not going crazy, right?  Worrisome thoughts flooded your mind as you spiralled deeper into a panic. Calm down. Don’t skip to conclusions. You threw yourself onto the bed. In and out. It’s that simple, you consoled yourself. Slowly but surely, you felt your heart come to a rest. 

When you lifted your hand up above your head the writing was still there, unchanged. So you weren’t losing your mind. Could somebody else be the cause of this? Was someone else somehow writing on your skin? No, you felt stupid for even considering the thought; otherworldly things like that only happened in comics or movies. Nevertheless, it was the only possibility that made sense to you in the moment. You let your curiosity get the best of you, and paced towards the living room to grab a pen off the coffee table. On your right hand, you simply wrote "Hi," in hopes of eliciting some sort of response.

The following day proved to be a rather sunny, warm Monday, but you had to spend your time in a closed lecture hall. The cold-toned ceiling lights were much too bright for your liking, and the monotonous professor spouted information maybe only a handful of people were genuinely listening to. That morning, you had woken up to find the list on your wrist gone, leaving only your own message from the night before. You started to think you'd really had a hallucination of some sort. 

Half an hour into the lecture, you were already bored out of your mind and absentmindedly sketching intricate doodles on your notebook. I should just give up on biochemistry and become an artist, you mused to yourself. You remained focused on your art, while marks started to take shape on the back of your hand. Your soft eyes widened almost comically at the sight, and you shot a brief look to the people around you to make sure they hadn’t seen anything. Whipping your head back to your hand, you saw that the words stopped writing themselves, leaving a short message saying “Am I going nuts?” 

Wondering the same thing yourself, you jotted down a response below it: “I dunno, you tell me,” followed by a cheeky smiley face. If this really was real, you might as well make a good first impression. 

Weeks trickled into months as you made short exchanges with your newly discovered friend. Some nights you would write “good night” followed by a drawn heart, earning a sweet “sleep well” in return. You would frequently wake up to thoughtful words written on the palm of your hand, or you'd kindly ask your companion how they were doing when you had a quiet day at work. Even so, all you had learned about this person was their name, age, and that they were a student as well. Yunho was a twenty-one-year-old elementary education major with a minor in physiology-- he also worked as a dance teacher on weekends. You still didn’t know much about each other, so the messages never went further than greetings and simple conversations. 

Be that as it may, you liked it like that. Your relationship wasn’t complex; it felt comfortable and pure, and you didn’t want to change it.

Mellow spring afternoons at the café had always been your favourite. The wispy clouds in the sky were painted a buttery yellow by the slowly setting sun, and a steady stream of nearby students stopped by for coffee. Your new friend had sweetly noted "It's golden hour. Made me think of you," on your palm, leaving you in a bubbly mood. You had started your shift by drawing a heart on your wrist, hoping your secret companion would see it. 

You worked by the espresso machine as usual, humming to yourself as always. The bell rang, indicating that customers had arrived; it was a group of what seemed to be three guys and a girl. 

“We’ll be right with you!” you called. You turned towards the kitchen.  “Jongho, can you take their orders?” Silence. “Pretty please? I need to clean up my station.” you persisted. 

“Fine, yeah,” you heard your colleague grumble. 

As you tidied up behind the machine, you felt as though someone was watching you from the counter. You lifted your head curiously, meeting a pair of inquisitive doe eyes coloured a soft hazelnut brown. The warm eyes instantly turned into friendly half-moons as the boy smiled shyly upon being caught staring. You hurried back to cleaning up your station, hoping to hide the pink tint of your cheeks, but the red shade consuming your ears gave you away. 

Jongho handed you the cups for their orders and walked over to the pastry display. You got started on a hot chocolate and three iced americanos, getting back into your “barista brain,” as you liked to call it. After finishing the drinks, you called out "Three iced americanos, a hot chocolate, and two blueberry muffins!” 

You turned around to grab straws, and you overheard one of the guys say “I’ll grab ‘em, you guys can stay here.” You made your way back to the counter, looking up only to be met with the boy from earlier. Butterflies littered your stomach, fluttering up into your chest. “Oh, um, here are some straws,” you smiled gingerly.

“Thanks. Could I please get a sleeve as well?” he asked, “For my hot chocolate.”

“Of course!”

As you handed him the cardboard sleeve, his hands caught your eye. Not only were they the most beautiful hands you'd ever laid eyes on, but the boy had a heart drawn on the valley of skin between his left thumb and wrist, exactly where you had drawn one on your own hand just a while earlier. He seemed to recognize the message on your palm as well; a confused expression ghosted over his face. Gathering all your courage, you nodded towards his hand and did your best to form a coherent sentence. “That’s—”

“Your heart,” he interrupted, “Right?” 

You giggled softly in response, barely containing your excitement.

“Right,” you smiled down at your feet in an attempt to hide the bashful grin that pulled at your lips. A hand popped up in front of you.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. My name’s Yunho-- Oh, but you know that already, don’t you?” Yunho chuckled sheepishly. You looked up and slipped your hand into his, shaking it gently. His hands were warm, fingertips ever so soft.

“Nice to meet you too.”

[ragrottend0ll]

School Crush (Vinira Fanfic)

(In december I posted this little idea and now I decided to started it, hope you enjoy and forgive the misspelling, english isn’t my first lenguage)

Chapter one:

‘‘I like girls’’. Emira started.

‘‘I like girls, too’’. Amity seconded after a few seconds of silence.

‘‘Ok...’‘. Alador responded a little shook. ‘‘I-- Wow, yeah, ok.’’

‘‘Is that all you are gonna say, dad? Really?’’. Asked Emira. She didn’t spend seven years in the closet for just to get an ok.

Alador shruged a little. ‘’Congratulations...?’’

‘‘Fine, that’s better’‘.

The Blight siblings and Alador were hanging out. This was something that have been happening some time ago. At first it started as a sisters’ night, just for Amity and Emira, but then Edric discovered this and was begging, crying and basically annoying his sisters for let him ‘’in’’. 

He finally achived it.

So, every friday night, while their parents were in important meetings or fancy restaurants, the three would reunited in Emiras’s room and just talk. Sometimes they watched a series or practice some makeup. Even tried on clothes from either Edric or Emira. Sometimes they would sing a karaoke or just talk about their day, their friends, Luz, and throw bullshit of their parents.

They didn’t need to worry about the mansion’s staff. They all like them and have never said something bad of them to their parents. Plus, some have sewn up mouths so... Anyway.

What they did not expected was that, one night, their father would return early. 

Alador was honestly tired. He have been awake for three days straight and needed some sleep. Even when his lovely wife, Odalia, told/demanded him to stay awake and attend another important meeting, he denied. Alador was sure that, if he stayed awake for another hour, his body will just collapse.

When he arrive to the mansion, the buttler (he never can remember his name, really) was there and took his coat. Alador didn’t wait more and went upstairs. The Bight manor was splendant, huge and, now that he was walking alone through the corridors full of old portraits in the middle of the night, he would consider it spooky.

The portraits gave him chills in his back. He felt like the eyes of his wife’s ancestors were following him in every step he took. 

‘‘I wouldn’t be surprise’‘, Alador tought. ‘‘They may be haunted for real’’.

‘‘I should probably ask Odalia about it’’.

Alador walked to his bedroom’s door, and when he was about to open it he heard something.

It was a scream. 

‘‘The kids’’. He tought.

Alador ran as fast as his tiredness allow him to the wast wing, where the children’s bedroom were. The screams kept going, ‘’Where is the staff?’’ Alador asked himself mentally. His kids could be diying and non of the guards he hired were even near.

The screams were coming from Emira’s room. But the shouting didn’t sounded like Emira.

He looked at Amity’s and Edric’s doors. They haven’t come out and their doors were closed. Alador was tempted to open the other two door, but decided not to. If his children were being kidnaped, he’ll deal with the kidnapper in Emira’s room first.

Alador took a deep breath and casted a spell, ready to attack if he needed to. He opened the door, fast and hard. What he saw let him speechless.

There was no kidnapper. There was no danger.

But, he really didn’t know what to think about the scene that was display infront of him.

Emira’s room was a disaster. There were snacks in the ground, Alador wonder if Odalia would be mad about it, he answered himself almost inmediatelly with a yes. The room was dark, except for the karaoke that, Alador supposed, one of the twins bought.

Edric was lying in the floor with a microphone in his left hand, while his right hand where finger-brushing his hair. Oh, and he was using Emira’s lastest grom dress and a twelve centimeters tall heels. 

Amity was sitting in the little sofa that Em buy two years ago. Her face had some very excentric makeup, specially her eyes. A wildly combination of pink, glitter and black. With red-sparkled lip gloss. Her triangular earings were replaced with a pair of Emira’s expensive earings that were only used for important meeting or fancy parties. She was wearing her regular pajamas, with the slight difference that, over her pants, she was wearing a puffy skirt. And that her feet were covered with long cowboy boots. 

 Emira was sitting in her bed, face was covered in some kind of skin care treatment. A phosphorescent green skin care treatment. Even with that, she was the most normal looking of the three. All her makeup was in the bed, (probably the responsable of Amity’s face) and her hand was grabbing her scroll, that was recording Edric’s  performance, before he opened the door, at least. The scroll was still recording, by the way. Em didn’t have time to stop it before his father abruptely came in the room.

The Blight siblings were looking at him like deers flashed by a light. Each of them praying in their heads that if they don’t move Alador wouldn’t be able to see them, like some of the animal in the isles.

‘‘You... uhm,... arrived early’‘. Edric stated the obvious, crearly nervous. But, can you blame him? Not everyday your dad found you wearing a dress and using heels . Actually that never really hapened to him. 

The music of the karaoke was still playing. Alador connected the dots and figured out that his son was the responsable of the screams.

‘‘Yes, I did’‘ Alador responded. He never had been a man of words, but in this moment he didn’t know what would be the correct way to react.

Should he scold them for being up at one in the morning making a fuss? Or He should just close the door and pretend that none of it happened?

He was definitely going to ask the servants if this was something that happened often and why they had not reported those... meetings that their children did.

‘‘Mom’s here, too?’‘ Amity asked. Her face now was now also covered with a strong blush of embarasment, that reached even her neck.

‘‘No, she is still in the meetong with the Hogson’s’‘ Alador answered.

‘‘Do you want to talk this now, or would you preffer to wait until the sun comes out?’‘ Alador asked. He wan’t sure if this was the right thing to do, but the words came out of his mouth even before he could think about it. That was something that didn’t happened to him since high school.

The kids glare at eachother and said a ‘’now’’ at the same time. If they waited for the sun, Odalia was probably going to arrive and they didn’t wanted to have that conversation with their mother. 

None conversation, actually.

‘‘Alright’‘ their father said ‘‘Clean your faces and put on presentable clothes’‘ 

And with that he leave the room.

‘‘That could have been worse, right?’’ Edric said. He finally stoped doing the pose with his hand trought his hair.

‘‘Yeah...’’ Emira answered him ‘‘Mom could have catch us’’

‘‘Titan forbid’’ Amity said.

Once they cleaned their faces and put on their pijamas, the three siblings made their way to Alador’s office, who has completely forgot how tired he was.

They were nervous, Edric, specially. And were honestly surprised when the scolding was more about how they broke the curfew than about all the mess they did. 

And after that, things evolved rapidly. The kids felt better in Alador’s pressence than ever before. They trusted their father even more because he didn’t said a thing to Odalia, and even gave the order to the servants to keep those meetings as a secret. 

 Two months later, Alador found himself spending the family-bonding-time, as Edric renamed it, with his children. The bonding-time had to be moved to saturday’s night, because Alador had the obligation to go to the meeting on friday. But the kids weren’t mad at all.

‘‘Dad?’’, Edric called for him. It has been five minutes since Emira and Amity’s comming out and Alador haven’t said anything esle since the congratulations. ‘‘Girls, I think you shouldn't have done it at the same time; now you’ve killed him’’.

‘‘We didn’t!’’ Amity shouted inmediately.

‘‘No, I think we actually did it, Mittens’’ Emira seconded.

‘‘I’m fine’’ Alador said some time later. The twins were disscussing if they should call an ambulance or just leave their dad there. Emira was drafting in her mind all the possible ways to hide Alador’s corpse in the manor, too. You have to be careful, right?

Alador sit up straight in the couch were she was lying. Before his both daughters come out to him some minutes ago, they were all watching a movie. If Alador had to be honest, he wasn’t really paying attention. He was falling asleep. This week has been rough, but for no reasom he would cancel the saturdaynight bonding time™. 

‘‘None of my kids are straight, huh?’’ Alador thought. 

Ok, to be fair, Edric haven’t come out to him (yet), but Alador prectically confirm his son’s orientation when he founded him performing when he discovered that friday sisters’ night. No straight, cis, man would use a dress and heels. Not even walk on them in the propper way Edric managed to do. 

‘‘So, uhm, are you... mad or...?’’ Amity began.

‘‘Oh, no. No!’’ Alador answered, with a little laught that lately the siblings were more used to hear ‘‘I’m actually kind of relive.’’

‘‘Relieve?’‘ Edric asked, genuinely curious.

‘‘Indeed. I don’t have to worry about any potencial boyfriend and the concecuences that would imply-’’

‘‘Shut!’’ Amity and Emira shouted at the same time. ‘‘The school already teach us that. No need to repeated.’’ Emira continued.

‘‘I was talking about a heartbroken, but yes, sexual education is very important too.’’ Alador said. And, tho he seemed serious, he was teasing his daughters.

‘‘So, you are ok with this?’’ 

‘‘Yes, Amity.’’ 

Actually, I’m kind of a pansexual, myself. Alador tought,  but keep shut.

The movie was paused. Probably since some time ago but Alador didn’t notice. He glare at Emira’s wall clock. 12:05, it marked.

It was early, Odalia wouldn’t be back until three in the morning. Anyway he open his scroll to verify that his wife haven’t texted him or something.

There was nothing, as expected. Only Odalia’s last message where she told him that she was going to leave the party at 1:45 and was expecting been home around 3:00 a.m.

‘‘So,’‘ Alador started ‘‘any particular reason to tell me your orientation?’’ 

Yes, it was sweet, but Alador did knew his daughter a little and can almost tell that, at least Emira had something else to say. 

‘‘No, no reason.’’ Amity answered. ‘‘Just to tell you with Em.’’

Alador look at his older daugher, waiting for her answer. 

Yes, they were closer than bever before, but the sad truth was that even if his children did trusted in him, he didn’t think that they trusted him that much. 

It was reasonable, not less hurting, but understandable.

‘‘Well...  You see, er. Ok, so. I actually wanted to tell you because, uhm....’’

Alright, now this was new. Alador never in his life had heard Emira stutter.

All his children were raise to be the embodinment of perfection, as Odalia describe it. The three took classes of everything. From music to etiquette, and diction was not left behind.

Now, Alador was sincerely curious.

‘‘There’s this girl in the school, and well-’’

‘‘Emira has a big crush on her.’’ Edric interrupted.

‘‘But Emira can be around her without being a red mess.’‘

‘‘You are one to talk, huh, Mittens.’’ Emira asked. Her cheeks were already a little blushy.

Amity looked away and Emira continue: ‘’My point is, that, her dad is kinda, a little... short budget. And-’’

‘‘Emira, I love you, but if that girl is using you for your money-’’

‘‘No! She isn’t! Sh doesn’t even know that I liked her’’

‘‘Well that’s debatable’’ Edric said ‘‘It’s really obvious and Viney it’s not as oblivious as Luz, plus-’’

‘‘Who’s Luz?’‘ Alador asked.

‘‘It doesn’t matter right now’’ Emira stated. ‘‘The point is, dad, that she didn’t even tell me his dad was in a little hurry. I was walking towards her and she was talking to her friends about it and I just heard a little. When I told her I could give her some snails she declined and actually was pretty mad about it, until last week, when I apologized. But I really want to do something about it.’’ Em talked fast, but Alador, as the good listener he had always been, didn’t missed anything.

‘‘And how can I help?’’ Alador asked.

‘‘Well, you can make him get a job? Maybe here in the manor or somewhere else. Her dad is in the construction coven, I think he is like, the right hand of the leader.’’ 

Alador hummed. Contruction coven right hand? He was a right hand once, before he was level up to coven leader. And he knew very well the salary of the seconds on board. It was a great amount of snails.

‘‘And before you say something like ‘she’s scamming you’, I want you to know that her family is really big. She has like, twelve siblings, not including her.’’

Alador sigh.

‘‘She really is a good person, dad. And if I can help her, I will.’’

‘‘She’s one of the noblest people we’ve met. There’s no danger’’ Edric said in favor of Emira’s propose. 

Alador looked to Amity, who haven’t said much, and asked her with his eyes for her opinion.

‘‘I don’t hang out with her a lot, but she’s indeed good.’’

‘‘Well, I guess I have no other option, do I?’’

‘‘Thank you, dad!’’ Emira shouted and jump to her dad’s lap to trap him in her arms in a tigh hug.

‘‘I don't promise anything, but I'm going to see what I can do.’‘ Alador responded and hug Emira back. 

He looked at Edric and Amity and with a head movement he invited both of them to join the hug. 

Edric took Amity’s hand and join to it.

Well, Alador thought, I guess I have some work to do now.

[frozenartscapes]

Hey, so remember that idea post from earlier today? I followed through with something...

-- -- --

“What...the fuck.”

Edelgard cocked her head to one side, eyeing her former professor with confusion. “Something has...happened,” she stated, blunt as she always was.

“Yeah, no shit!” Byleth exclaimed, running her hands through her hair as she tried to piece together what was going on. One minute, she was alone in the throne room of a palace-turned-museum. Standing before a solitary candle marking the spot where she once was forced to strike down her old student because of some stupid war and now...now...

That same student knelt in place of that candle, exactly how she had been moments before Byleth’s sword split her skull in half.

Edelgard frowned, mostly at the exasperated tone. She pulled her eyes off Byleth, who looked considerably less threatening now than she did mere seconds ago. She closed her eyes on a hardened mercenary, dressed to the nines in gaudy religious garb and wielding the most terrifying weapon in history. Now... She was wearing some kind of jacket - and using the sleeves properly - and had smooth, pristine pants and heels. There wasn’t a speck of dirt or blood on her, and rather than a weapon of incredible destruction she had a rectangular bag, strap slung over one shoulder.

Enough ogling her old professor... She glanced around and, yes, it was still the throne room. But...it was also different. The banners were wrong. There was a different rug. There were these strange...glowing orbs positioned at the top of each pillar, shining artificial light along the central nave. All of the chandeliers were outfitted with similar-looking lights. They weren’t real candles, she could tell that much.

Slowly, she pushed herself up to her feet, an undignified grunt leaving her lips as her body strained under her injuries. That was easier said than done - she had been using the Sword of Seiros as a crutch moments ago, but now it has vanished into thin air.

Byleth took a step back, subconsciously reaching for a sword that wasn’t there. “It’s...alright, my Teacher,” Edelgard breathed, “I doubt...I could give you...much of a fight...”

“Right. You...you’re injured,” Byleth remembered, “We would have just fought...”

Edelgard narrowed her eyes. “You don’t...remember?”

“I...” Byleth gulped nervously, shifting back and forth on her feet anxiously. She tightened her grip on the strap of her laptop bag, and drew a deep breath. Might as well rip the bandaid off. “It’s been... 850 years since our last battle, Edelgard.”

Edelgard blinked. Byleth assumed she was in shock, but then she looked around the throne room once more. “The palace...still stands after all this time?” she wondered softly.

“You...you’re not... Freaked out by this?” Byleth stammered.

“I am... Processing it,” Edelgard admitted, “I imagine...it will hit me when I’m...in better shape.”

“Oh shit, right. Here.” Without thinking, Byleth stepped forward and gently pressed her hand on one of Edelgard’s most concerning injuries. She tapped into magic she hadn’t needed to use in centuries, surprised at how easily it all came back. Healing magic spread through the Emperor’s body, and it wasn’t until most of the wounds were closed up that Byleth realized she had just healed the woman who she had been fighting to the death against.

She leapt back, drawing the only weapon she had on her: a small pocket knife. Edelgard regarded the weapon in curiosity more than anything. Although Byleth did see her reach for where her dagger had been on her belt, only to discover it wasn’t there. ‘Of course it’s not,’ she thought to herself in relief, ‘That dagger is in the Flame Emperor exhibit.’

“I’m not going to kill you,” Edelgard said simply, taking her eyes off the knife and focusing on Byleth’s face, “Not that I could. I appear to be unarmed. For some reason.”

“O...ok,” Byleth stuttered, still not quite ready to lower the knife, “Erm...why?”

Edelgard shrugged. “If this truly is the future, then I find myself here without any kind of guide, and loathe as I am to admit it, I will likely need one of those. You seem to know what’s going on.” Her eyes narrowed again. “And you’re here, too. I suppose that means you cannot die, even if I tried.”

“Well, technically I still could...” Byleth began, before shutting her mouth. “Ok, so... I accept your truce,” she said, lowering the knife and tucking it back in her pocket, “I...I suppose I should... Oh goddess, what am I going to do?”

“Well, that depends,” Edelgard said, assuming that dignified air only an Emperor could pull off, “In this future, would something like the tyrannical Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg magically reappearing be received well, or would you rather keep such a thing a secret?”

Byleth’s eyes widened slightly. “I...” she stammered, before looking away nervously, “You were never a tyrant.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Professor,” Edelgard told her with a small, sad smile, “How does history view me? A monster? A madwoman? A visionary who lost her vision in all the bloodshed? There’s no need to sugarcoat it - I already know how I must have looked.”

“Misunderstood.”

“...What?”

“I...” Byleth blushed, awkwardly rubbing one arm. “I found...notes. In your office, after...” She gulped, and continued anxiously, “I found letters and drawings and diaries and drafts... I pieced together what happened to you. I made sure the world knew. I picked up where you left off. I couldn’t let the things that happened to you keep happening. Edelgard...the world we live in now wouldn’t exist were it not for you. You were a... troublesome political figure. But ultimately you were good. I made sure the people knew that.”

Edelgard stared at her, wide eyed and slack-jawed. Eventually, she broke her gaze away, turning and covering her mouth with one hand. “I...” she muttered. She quickly wiped away something on her cheek.

“Look... We should get out of here before someone sees you,” Byleth said, suddenly worried she had said something wrong.

Edelgard turned, and there was a smile on her face. “Yes. Lead the way, my Teacher,” she said softly.

Byleth nodded, feeling something wonderful stir in her chest at such a beautiful sight. “Ok. Let’s head to my car. I’ve got a spare room in my apartment - you can sleep there until we get things sorted out. I should have some spare clothes you can borrow, too.”

“I...I trust you, Professor,” Edelgard said, the slight stammer in her voice the only betrayal of her confidence, “I just have one question.”

“I’ll do my best to answer it.”

“...What’s a ‘car’?”

[maxwell-grant]

You've talked quite a bit about Shiwan Khan, would be OK with talking about the other villains who show up more than once, Benedict Stark and The Voodoo Master?

The Voodoo Master tends to get overshadowed by Khan by virtue of being less prominent and because, in a lot of ways, Mocquino does feel a bit like a prototype for Khan. Like Gibson was testing the waters of what kind of major supervillain he wanted the Shadow to have, and was gradually figuring details like the hypnotic traps and unique henchmen and mystic background and a fraudulent dark magician figure with Mocquino, before Khan blew it all up to bigger proportions. Twice already we’ve had instances where Mocquino was set to appear in a Shadow adaptation after Khan, and said adaptations got canned before he could show up (and I don’t think it does either character a favor if Mocquino comes after Khan). And of course Mocquino has the problem of being an ethnic supervillain whose identity and name are tied up to grotesque prejudice that twists cultures and beliefs into Hollywood boogeymen, and the novels sadly treat vodou beliefs far less charitably than how the other novels approach tibetan/asian mysticism. It’s definitely a problem, but not without it’s solutions.

Putting that aside, The Voodoo Master trilogy is very fun, the first novel in particular was the number one rated Shadow novel in a fan poll back then. Personally, my favorite is City of Doom because of it’s blend of gothic, urban and industrial settings, great battles even for a Shadow novel, and a spectacular finale, but they all have very strong points. And I do like Mocquino himself as a character. He is historically significant as the first true supervillain of Shadow Magazine (if you don’t count other odd criminals like The Black Master or The Cobra). He is different from Khan personality-wise in the sense that he is more of an old-school supervillain, who likens his conflict with The Shadow to a “game” they play, who likes to boast and brag about his powers and whose goals largely revolve around extortion. He has a vendetta against industrial society (although he himself employs industrial tactics, because he is a hypocrite), and said vendetta being largely just him trying to destroy it so he thinks people will fall in line with his cult more easily. Unlike with Khan, there’s no delusions or aspirations of grandeur and greater purpose here, it always comes down to crime and profit with Mocquino and he barely bothers to pretend otherwise.

He is resourceful and insidious and racks up a bigger body count than Khan on City of Doom alone, and there’s a real creepiness to his zombie minions as they are regular people stripped of all identity and forced into becoming walking meat shields. I think one way to make him work better on his own could be by playing up his ruthlessness and charm, and focus on the mind control/cult leader aspect. Make him the Jim Jones of Shadow villains.

Justice Inc redesigned him to look like Boris Karloff, divorced him of racist trappings, played up his dark magician persona and ballooned up his abilities into outright superpowers, all of which worked quite well as the closest he's ever had to an update And interestingly, there’s some odd Joker-esque aspects to him in his final appearence in Voodoo Trail:

Though almost silent, the explosion was forcible. The tank disgorged a greenish gas that spread like an expanding monster, filling the entire room that the trio had just left. 

There was something parched and withery in his face, particularly noticeable when The Shadow saw the Voodoo Master's profile. Mocquino bore the scars of flame, not only on his face, but upon the scrawny arm he extended from his robe. Those burns showed like livid brands: a fitting mark for a supercriminal.

That hissing sound in the zombi cave! It was gas, leaking from underground pipes that led into Manhattan. Filtering through the porous stone, it gathered other chemical elements. Mocquino must have discovered that leakage and noted its effects. He had put the discovery to his own use. 

...lips formed a grin so jagged that it was difficult to note where his mouth ended and his scar began.

Mocquino's shrill laugh told that he expected his men to overwhelm The Shadow through force of numbers.

Honestly, “Doctor Mocquino” I think is a better name for him than Voodoo Master. A Rogues Gallery isn’t complete without a major Doctor in there, and divorcing Mocquino of “Voodoo Master” and all that implies could be the better way of making this character work again. Play up the fact that he’s exploiting Caribbean religions and citizens for personal gain and roping them into his crime ring, maybe even have him use similar theatrics as The Shadow to paint himself as this great master of voodoo, but in the end, he’s always just Doctor Mocquino, an evil, rotten shyster who puts his knowledge to use for evil and evil alone. 

Responsible for the first and only cliffhanger of Shadow Magazine with the kidnapping of Rutledge Mann, Benedict Stark is easily the single worst scumbag out of all Shadow supervillains. Just this completely horrible, wretched monster who ends up being somewhat dissappointing and frustrating of a villain in my view. Despite having quite a bit going on for him, Stark is not really interesting enough to warrant the 4 novels he gets, and where as Khan and Mocquino usually escape The Shadow thanks to prior planning and last-minute escape and strokes of luck, Stark seems to get away with it only because the narrative says so, not nearly as impressive as the other two despite being far, far worse, which makes it you don’t want The Shadow to match wits with him, so much as you just want The Shadow to kill him as soon as possible. In fact, here’s what Stark gets away with in the first ten pages of The Prince of Evil alone:

He gaslights a man named John Harmon into thinking he was developing amnesia

Gets Harmon to sign away enough money to be bankrupted for life, and no one, not even his wife, believe him when he says he was conned

Causes Harmon to commit suicide. 

Then, while Cranston's talking with a friend of Harmon named Jackson who wanted to help him, the two go to Jackson's house to find it completely destroyed, his priceless belongings acid-ruined. 

Then, they find Jackson's dog dead, with it's throat slit, and a Bible scattered nearby with the story of the good Samaritan marked, making it clear that this all happened because Jackson tried to help Harmon. 

And then, as Cranston tries to stop one of Stark's goons from brutally assaulting a boy who was just paid by Cranston to watch his car, he gets attacked and knocked unconscious.

And THEN, the henchman gives the kid a brain concussion and then hauls him in front of a coming truck, with Cranston just barely saving the kid in time as the henchman escapes.

This is just the first 10 pages. Not even Spider novels usually start with this many atrocities happening all at once. Whatever problems Tinsley has as a Shadow writer, I’ll give him this: He definitely knows how to go from 0 to 100 in ways Gibson never would. The book obviously doesn’t keep this up forever (thank goodness), but The Prince of Evil is really all about building up Stark’s presence as this new ultimate Shadow villain, and I think the build up is quite solid up to a point.

He’s established as possibly the richest man in America. Where as Cranston is a millionaire, Stark is a billionaire, who owns “ailways and steamships, factories and mills all over the United States". Nobody knows what he looks like, nobody’s ever seen a picture of him, and Cranston, who knows everyone and everything, has never once laid eyes on the man. We also know in advance that he uses drugs delivered by chewing gum to turn his thugs into bloodthirsty savages who desire only terror and torture and inflict those at his beck and call, and we get a passage where Clyde Burke ingests one of these gums, experiences it’s effects, and ends up chasing down a mouse and killing it, for no reason other than it was the only living being nearby, much to his horror. And it very nearly develops into something even worse:

He could hear the snoring of a man sleeping inside a cellar apartment. Clyde halted. His fingers tightened on his iron bar. He guessed that the man asleep inside was the building janitor. He fought against a hot impulse that flared anew in his blood.

He wanted to kill that janitor! He wanted to smash at him with the iron bar until the man was battered and dead! Murder seemed so exciting. And so easy! Clyde could picture the terror of his victim as he struck at him. It would be sheer delight to maim the fool before he killed him.

The thing that saved Clyde was the thought of the chewing gum. He knew that the savage whisper that urged him on to murder was not his own brain talking, but the voice of a powerful drug.

Laying the bar on the concrete floor, he ran for the cellar exit. He didn't glance back. He was afraid that if he did, he'd be tempted to pick up the bar and commit a senseless and brutal crime.

The cold bite of the breeze was like a draft of cooling water against his parched lips. He began to get a grip on himself. Once more he was Clyde Burke, a normal human being who would go out of his way to avoid hurting a fly.

Stark has weaponized and mass-produced a drug that creates an army of Mr Hydes at his beck and call, that can turn even one of the kindest and most heroic characters into the series into a sadistic maniac itching to main and murder anything that’s in front of him, and that alone is not just a much more viscerally horrifying kind of mind control than what Khan and Mocquino use, it’s also got a an edge to it more suited for gritty urban drama. It’s an idea I definitely would have liked to see used again even after Stark’s out of the picture.

And then we actually get to see Stark for this first time, and he’s described as a grotesquely deformed baboon man leering at his beautiful secretaries, who deliberately employs the most attractive people to make his own deformities stand out further, and who is cartoonishly vile everytime he opens his mouth. He never really displays exceptional cleverness, compared to other Shadow villains, except for the fact that he keeps suspecting Cranston is The Shadow, and sometimes just seems to get really lucky. Stark tends to get much, much less interesting as the build-up evaporates and he has to stand on his own feet as a character, I barely remember anything he did in the following books. At the time, I thought Stark’s characterization was weak, and I still do. 

This text blurb here was used on a promo S&S did for Prince of Evil, and it starts by talking about incredibly well-liked people who are kind and how Stark is the opposite because he's evil. Of course, as we all know, evil and well-liked are not opposites. 

Stark may have been a tad more interesting had they went with the angle of him being a horrible monster who's also incredibly popular and beloved and friendly. About 70% of The Shadow’s villains are already middle-aged to elder rich businessmen pretending to be good, so maybe Stark being young and attractive and initially sympathetic-looking, atop being the richest and cruelest of them all, could also help set him apart. Sort of an evil Harry Vincent maybe. 

But instead he's so obviously and viscerally awful all the time he shows up, so incapable of restraining himself, that it's impossible to buy him as a deceiver who’s pulled the wool over society’s eyes. At the time, I thought to myself that he was just painfully obvious of a villain and too brutish and stupid for me to buy that he’s supposed to be the richest criminal genius in America. 

But then again, nowadays I’m well aware that wealthy and respected figures of society, who are cartoonishly horrible even openly in public, is just what billionaires are like, so maybe Tinsley had a point here.