#one of his kids was actually hugely painful and detrimental

[lesenbyan]

Scientists: want so badly for adult children who are friends with and/or still dependant on parents for money or a roof to be Bad that they are intentionally looking for detriment in the study results

Study results: so overwhelmingly positive they can't actually find the data needed to twist the narrative

Scientists: >:|

[dyed-red]

phyn! happy wincest wednesday! I am thinking about how Sam and Dean are both not great at sharing their feelings. they're inconsistent and bottle everything up until they blow up at each other. do you have anything to share about FEELINGS and the ways the brothers are similar, and different, in how they handle theirs? not sure where I'm going with this but have at 'er

mmmmmmm feelings. they taste so good when they're all suppressed and thorny. this is all opinion and initial thoughts and a super long post but here we go:

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Similarities

Compartmentalization is the big one, to me. Although there are some differences in what and how they compartmentalize, both of them are masters at it. Dean is a bit more blunt about this, especially early on, although I'd argue the pendulum sort of swings at a certain point and we've got Sam with more boxes of unacknowledged shit he's placed in carefully organized rows down in the depths somewhere.

they're also both far more likely to use problem-focused coping, sam especially in the early seasons despite how he tries to get others to acknowledge their emotions. from seasons 1-4, at least, possibly including s5, sam's main (only?) coping skill is to Solve The Problem. this often looks like identifying the issue, researching it, finding a solution, committee 200% to that solution no matter how insane it might be, and putting that plan in motion.

(see: driving the impala into a derelict house in the pilot, the entire episode of Faith, the way he throws himself at finding dad and then at the yellow-eyed demon all to the detriment of saving others and his own life until dean pulls him back from whichever ledge it happens to be this week, the way he approaches the special kids stuff, then the entirety of season 3, and especially how this manifests in both mystery spot and the period we see in 'i know what you did last summer' when dean was dead, and it's part of what makes him so susceptible to ruby who promises solutions, and part of how he ends up rationalizing blood drinking and the kill lilith at all costs attitude)

and i put this under similarities because while dean is actually honestly genuinely better at emotion-focused coping than sam is in those early seasons, he is very solution-oriented in how he tries to approach feelings and emotional issues. this is most especially true for the big things as well: he wants to solve sam's grief in season 1 and he wants to do it by throwing him at women, he decides to solve sam's death by selling his own soul, he even attempts to (re)solve dad's orders to kill sam if needed by trying to convince sam that they should maybe give up hunting early in s2 (it's a weak and half-hearted attempt but worth noting).

and then of course there is just straight-up suppression. play through the pain, push it down and let it come out through bouts of alcoholism and violence, Do Not Talk About It even if you acknowledge its impact on you (sam and his grief over jess, both of them over john's death, dean eventually and his time in hell). this is different than compartmentalization in that it's there on the surface in a huge way and it's plain as day and you know it and acknowledge it but there's nothing you can do about it so you just sort of ignore it and refuse to sit with it or talk about it and just... continue existing with this wound bleeding inward or outward.

(see: getting angry and breaking things, being reckless or self-destructive and endangering self and others, etc. this is not a tactic that works. this is bottle up and explode.)

distractions is one i should mention here too, as one of their core (more healthy and adaptive) emotion-focused coping strategy, but i'm tempted to talk about it more under differences because they have really different distraction methods except for one. they both use fresh/new hunts to distract themselves from whatever it is that is causing them stress or pain.

Differences

continuing on the thread of distractions, dean uses media and escapism through narrative in a way sam simply Does Not. dean watches scooby-doo and horror movies and explicitly says he enjoys the escape and knowing that the bad guy is going to lose in the end. he references books and quotes them far more frequently than sam, everything from aesop to vonnegut, and we know that he loves music quite a bit, probably part of how he drowns out reality or escapes from it when he needs to.

in general, i think dean also dissociates more than sam does. this is integral in some of that 'dean as object' stuff. he separates himself from his physical body and steps behind it and away, so that what is happening to his body isn't happening to him, often when a monster or demon is threatening and implying some sexual violence.

conversely i think sam rationalizes and medicalizes a fair amount. he wants to understand and be able to explain (at least to himself) what his emotions are and what he's going through, because / as if the ability to understand and explain it provides a degree of power over it. sam craves control, and rationalizing affords illusory control over his emotions, allowing him to convince himself he has mastery over those feelings even when he's in fact very off the rails and being dragged around by his emotions like a dog on a leash.

this tends to mean that sam is up in his head explaining and re-explaining his own shit to himself until he's got a handle on it, and dean is out of his head escaping.

sam uses distractions as well, as i said with a new hunt, and with reading the lore. the lore thing is two-fold though -- it provides a sense of control over things again, illusory or real, because that knowledge can help in a pinch, even if it's not related to a current case. so he can kind of convince himself he's reading for work or for a present problem or that it will be helpful, even when he's using it as a distraction.

sam also somatizes more, i think, which is when your psychological stresses manifest in your physical body. we're dipping a little into headcanon territory here but i picture him as someone more prone to headaches and stomach aches than dean as a result of stress and anxiety (dean's stomach aches are earned through eating food he shouldn't have).

i connect this partly to sam's clean living/eating/exercising more as time goes on, although that is also about control. much like reading the lore 'just in case' and developing encyclopedic knowledge of things they may encounter no matter how far-fetched, eating well and exercising affords a small advantage against monsters.

exercising as a coping mechanism more general can also be a way to distract oneself and is a good emotion-focused coping mechanism when used to get restless energy out and improve one's mood. i think sam does use exercise adaptively and healthily like this and it's generally good for him, but yeah that it can and does tend toward obsessive control/coping sometimes.

something i think they do in different ways is also their problem- and emotion-focused approach to 'tend and befriend'. we can cope with our own shit sometimes by getting out of our own heads and focusing on others instead -- helping them with their problems or giving them stuff or just generally socially connecting with laughter and fun.

on this, sam likes to find a person experiencing a problem, get them to open up, provide empathy or offer words of support, and in so doing, stop focusing or worrying so much about his own shit. he does this with dean but also with victims on cases and gets more out of hearing about their issues and offering them advice/support than dean does. dean will engage in the practice too, but it doesn't emotionally feed him the way it does with sam, who processes his own emotions through empathizes with others, and dean does it out of necessity more than anything.

in contrast, dean likes to solve another person's problems for them (see: trying to throw sam at women) or distract himself by hearing about what is going on with others (see: asking cas to distract him when crowley and gadreel are co-possessing sam). solving their shit allows him to stop worrying about it or allows him space to process his stuff, potentially by hearing about theirs and having his own churn themselves along alongside the other person's, or in the meantime.

relatedly, dean also tends to mother hen others, and in so doing he uses caretaking as a means of coping with his own shit. this is part of dean's illusory control methods, because it affords him the sense that he's doing a job and if he does it right then things will be okay. he engages in caretaking by identifying and meeting the needs of others, and this is distinct from him trying to solve their problems only in how it tends to be more emotional, whether that's being 4 or 5 years old telling his mom things will be okay, as an adult pointing out bobby's drinking and later giving him whatever speeches he needs after he's become paralyzed from the waist down, and manifests in so many ways with john and with sam it's not worth counting.

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tl;dr

while both brothers use compartmentalization, suppression, helping others, and distractions at a broad level, at a more specific level, both sam and dean have very different emotion-focused coping mechanisms, and different ways their problem-focused coping manifests.

sam hits his head against a problem until it cracks open, and does so rigidly and to his own (and the planet's) detriment until he is forced to learn some more emotion-focused coping mechanisms after the cage. he is always seeking a sense of control so he reads lore, eats well, pushes his body, and rationalizes/medicalizes until he can gain a sense of control. some of this is adaptive. eventually he learns to sit with his emotions enough to process them as they arise and threaten to overwhelm or overtake him, which allows him to compartmentalize them more effectively as needed.

dean copes with a similar sense of helplessness by distracting himself from the issue through hunting and the job, and sometimes through narrative transportation and by taking care of others, all of which can be adaptive for the smaller issues or one-off hurts, but causes him a lot more pain with the big stuff like his betrayal over sam going to stanford or his emotions about his father (john's death and his treatment of dean and their messed up dynamic all included) or what hell wrought on him. when bigger hurts stack up, much like sam, he is eventually forced to learn more adaptive or flexible ways to navigate overwhelming feelings, which i tend to think involves sitting with them and acknowledging them and allowing himself to think about them, something i don't think he did when he was younger except when he lost control over his compartmentalizing, but that allows him to go over them and then set them aside better, when ready.

for both of them, when circumstances demand or emotions overwhelm, they will open up and talk out or acknowledge the emotion. this tends to manifest in distressed sadness from dean and in distressed anger from sam, when they're at their wits' end, with dean expressing shame but seldom guilt, and sam expressing guilt but seldom shame. exceptions include how dean expresses guilt over ways he's hurt sam or others and how sam expresses shame over actions taken related to victimized aspects of himself. at the end of the day though, they both get better and more adaptive and healthy as time goes on at sitting with their feelings instead of trying to control or ignore them.

[productofmyancestors]

And to this day, he hasn’t let me in on his perspective. Although, that may be more of my fault than I understand.

But I just felt like if he wanted to, he would. He didn’t need my permission to text or call and talk to me about why he made his decisions. Why didn’t he try to make things right or, at the very least, clarify?

He didn't even try to rectify our relationship once it was over. There’s one thing to break up with someone, but then to not even try to salvage it is another. That made me feel like he couldn’t have truly meant what he said to me over the years. Promising marriage and kids to someone is lifelong & from my perspective, this person dashed our future away so easily, like it meant nothing to him. How could he have wanted forever with me if it was that easy to let me go? And that was scary for me. Nothing prepared me for that kind of pain.

I feel like he had multiple chances to explain his side of things, but he chose to avoid the conversation instead. I tried to offer counseling. When he called to apologize, I listened hoping he would give me more than he did. But there was nothing. No explanation, just a vague apology.

I can admit that when I reached out the last time, I was definitely doing it in reactivity and anger. Although I didn't realize it then, I can acknowledge it now.

I fell back into the bad habit of dumping on him. I was being mean even though he gave me kind responses. I was so angry at his decisions. I felt abandoned by the person I adored most in the world.

Some of what I said about feeling "at peace" contradicted how I actually felt. I was not at peace. I was tired of feeling like I was being vulnerable while he wasn’t. I remember texting him and asking to have a convo on compromising. He was so cold and mean. Just seemed like he didn't really care. I was tired of being the only one to say that I didn't want the relationship to end. Tired of getting my vulnerability thrown back in my face.

From the moment he broke up with me, it felt like he didn’t care about getting anything besides what he wanted. But I also didn't give him any space during that conversation to express himself and that wasn't fair.

I just wanted to feel vindicated. I used his actions as an excuse: He was selfish, so I could be, too. I decided to stop expressing vulnerability; he would just eat what I had to say. But I made choices in anger, and those cannot be undone.

And at my core, all of this anger was fueled by feeling rejected. I didn’t care about acceptance from any other person besides him. I just wanted to be enough for him, and I didn’t feel I would ever be. It was wrong. I shouldn’t have attacked him like that.

Yet it’s really frustrating that people think it’s ok to stonewall you, keep you in the dark about important feelings, and not communicate. That is a form of emotional control I wish people would acknowledge more often.

There are so many layers to our breakup and post-breakup. But I think our downfall was the lack of transparent and intentional communication. It created a huge disconnect between us and our responses, too. If we had responded differently, I think our relationship would be different right now. We both upheld behaviors that were detrimental to our relationship.

I still have so many things to talk about with him, but it’ll probably never happen.

[marymoss1971]

Random thoughts on SNW Season 2

Broken Circle

Not a great season premiere. However, I did like the premise of a rogue Klingon/Federation organization trying to Ignite the war again for profit. I also liked that this was Spock's first command. Him stealing the Enterprise was bold, I liked it!

Note--this is the introduction of M'Benga's super drug. I thought the "Performance drug" angle was interesting. I suspected he was using it at the detriment of his health. I feel that would have been a very interesting and timely story. So, I'm disappointed they never went there.

Ad Astra per Aspera

This was my favorite. I LOVE courtroom episode, and this was right up there with my favorite all-time TNG ep "Measure of a Man." This is one of those allegory episodes that Trek does so well! At the time I thought it would've been nice if Pike was the one defending Una since we've seen captains do that. However, given the seriousness of the it does make sense she'd have an actual civil defense attorney.

Plus, it was great seeing Batel as prosecutor! You could see how conflicted she was. She was trying to do her job, a job that in this case she didn't really agree with.

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorow

Time travel episode! I enjoyed this one. I liked that they had the action in Toronto, rather than New York City. That was an interesting change of pace. I loved seeing Kirk too even if it was an alternate universe one. This was a great showcase for La'an. I loved how she dropped her guard around Kirk.

I wasn't completely keen on the "let's push Khan out thirty years. However, I have to admit, it does help the timeline of the WWIII make more sense.

Among the Lotus Eaters

I keep seeing this last among various rankings. I like this one a lot. I'd put it in my top five. I liked the idea of revisiting Rigel VII. I loved the premise of "radiation causes the society to lose their memories" And I really liked the "Starfleet officer, one who used to be a friend, becomes evil" trope with Zach. That's one of my favorite tropes.

I loved that scene where it looked like Pike was going to kill Zach. It just showed how much he almost lost himself without his memory. (Now that I think of it, that moment was a lot like Voy's "The Chute")

And Erica saving the day was awesome!

Charades

This is my least favorite for the year. I really liked "Faces" so you'd think I'd this but no. Maybe because this seemed to be played too much for laughs. The most cringe-worthy part was just the idea that they were going to play charades. Thank GOD that did not happen!!

That said, I did like Christine entreating the aliens (who were amusing) to help because even though all human Spock is easier to relate to, he's just not Spock. I loved seeing T'Pring's parents her father is like the most open-minded Vulcan ever which I love.

Lost in Translation

Uhura saves the day episode! I enjoyed this one. I didn't love it, but I liked it. I liked Sam and Kirk's discussion at the bar. I was good character development for Sam--he hates being overshadowed by his kid brother. I loved that Kirk, a lieutenant commander, treated Uhura, an ensign, like an equal and not a junior officer. That earned him a lot of respect from me.

Pelia and Una were also great. Oh, and the handshake between Kirk and Spock--awesome!!

Those Old Scientists

The crossover episode! This was really fun. I loved that we saw all four lower deckers at the beginning. I love all the fanboying and fangirling. I really loved that Pike, normally unflappable is totally at a loss with Boimler here. All through the episode he's facial expressions are "I can't handle this."

Oh, and my theory was right. Una IS on a recruitment poster for Starfleet! "Hottest first officer in Starfleet history" -- loved that line by Ransom!

Cloak of War

This one i REALLY liked! It was heavy but it was one of those stories that are important to tell. PTSD is such a huge issue among soldiers, and I applaud SNW for tackling it is. You could see Joseph's pain in this one. You see him at that dinner party trying to hold it together while Ra keeps talking about peace and healing. I completely understand Joseph snapping at the end especially when Rah just won't leave him alone.

We got a little more backstory with Ortegas--she saw combat in the war. So, this, "Among the Lotus Eaters" and possibly the finale were the Ortegas development we were promised? It's a start, I guess. But I really think she deserves an entire episode.

Subspace Rhapsody

The musical! The one that I dreaded but ended up loving! I loved that there was a reason for the singing and the characters were aware that they were doing it. To me, that helped ground it in reality. (kind of weird that the effect went all the way to Starbase 1)

I loved the character bits we got here too. Christine's happiness at getting the fellowship, Uhura saving the day, La'an opening up to Kirk, Spock decided to embrace his Vulcan side, the Pike/Batel stuff.

Hegemony

My next to least favorite, but not for the reasons others have. I didn't have issue with the tone of the episode or anything that Pike did. It just felt lackluster to me.

I like the idea of the Gorn as the big bad, but they have to be careful they don't run into "The Arena" which it seems like they're close to doing.

I found the idea of a colony based on 21st century small town model to be really interesting. We've seen colonies like the one in 'Up the Long Ladder" that went without technology, so I thought one founded on 21st century interesting.

I loved seeing Batel. I was certain she was a goner so it's great that I was wrong (at least for now). I loved, loved, loved seeing Scotty! I was taken aback by how young he looked but he's still great!

Pike's stare at the end. I don't think it was supposed to play the way it did. I feel like it was the director's choice to make it into a big dramatic moment leading into the cliffhanger and it failed.

Overall, an enjoyable season but I think Season 1 was much better.

[harbingerofsoup]

Undemonlike Demons (The Misfits)

Undoubtably, the Misfits have only gotten stranger compared to their fellow demons under Iruma’s influence, but all of them, for some reason or another, ended up in the Misfit class before meeting him. Personally, I feel that rather than changing them, Iruma’s presence has amplified traits they already had. It’s an interesting contrast to the main villains of the series, who want demonkind to return to their origins, which, in their minds, seems to refer to rampant violence and anarchy. The question, therefore, becomes one of nature. Are these traits typically unassociated with demons actually natural, or will the villains prove to be correct? I guess the answer is obvious considering we know Iruma will be the demon king, but what’s important is how we get to that conclusion.

We’re consistently told that demons only do what’s interesting to them. Balam is confused when Iruma talks about his improvement in studying. Archery isn’t suitable for demons because of the concentration it requires. Basically, demons are fixated on their own best interest, preferring immediate enjoyment and progress over slow and painful development. However, during the Training Arc the Misfits are put through near endless suffering and failure, pushed past the breaking point where most demons would’ve given up. Yet, these kids got a taste for success and used their frustration to power through in order to meet the expectations of their tutors. Many of them discovered the satisfaction of improvement while studying for their exams, and that, along with their life-or-death escapades, seems to have laid the foundation for their immense growth, which is considered abnormal in demon society.

Asmodeus maintains a perfect demonic image most of the time, so it’s hard to find moments when he can be considered undemonlike, but there are certain aspects of his character that we can look toward within this line of thinking. While Azu rarely lets himself be a regular kid, under Iruma’s influence he’s far more emotionally volatile and does things out of simple enjoyment instead of success and is willing to participate in activities he’s uninterested in for his friends. Ranking up is a huge deal in demon society because the higher your rank, the higher your place is. Yet, due to his fixation of Iruma (which at this point is out of pure devotion instead of personal benefit) Azu completely disregards societal norms. His love for Iruma is also what snaps him out of his wicked phase. I want to talk about his wicked phase on its own though (spoiler warning ahead.) Wicked phases are as close as most demons get to a true “return to origins” and therefore serve as an outburst of desire and emotion. It’s not necessarily a representation of their morals or real personality, it’s more of a release.  As much as I’d love to wax poetic about the beauty of its destruction, the real undemonlike qualities of Azu’s wicked phase are revealed in the Heartbreaker arc when we learn that fire isn’t his bloodline magic. That means that even when he entered his wicked phase, which is specifically describes as a freedom from inhibitions, he maintained the self-control to keep it under wraps. Using his bloodline ability would give him an edge in combat, but Azu repeatedly forgoes the easier route, choosing to limit his power where every other demon would win at all costs.

Again, Goemon is an absolute sweetheart. He’s dedicated to the people around him and to strangers, helping them at his own detriment, a concept we were told in the Walter Parc arc that demons don’t understand. There’s never any mention as to why he wants 100 allies, so it seems like the point is just to have others in his life. It’s no something he can just stop doing either. Instead, getting involved in other people’s business is part of who he is, making this undemonlike trait a core aspect of his character.

Jazz is the ultimate example of not giving up when things are tough. He literally lost and decided to keep going. Sure, part of it was revenge, but it was also to help his fellow classmates despite not being strictly necessary for him. Allocer is able to use Jazz’s influence to his advantage, and makes significant gains, but ultimately sees no point in winning without him. In the same situation, I’m sure many demons wouldn’t make the same choice.

Additional examples of Misfit students not using all their advantages include Kerori, Goemon, and Agares. Kerori can’t bring herself to use the beasts that she worked with during the festival despite the bump in points it would give her. Goemon and Agares did receive additional points for helping their fellow students, but it’s clear from their reaction that they genuinely didn’t expect it, meaning they acted out of the kindness of their hearts.

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[bazzybelle]

Magical Equality Within The World of Mages

I’ve been thinking a lot since I finished reading Any Way The Wind Blows, and there are SO many things that I still need to process. I took my time with reading it, I’ve listened to the audiobook and I plan on re-reading it several times, once I move into my new house and have THAT stress done and over with. I cannot wait to re-read it on my back porch with some iced tea and a notebook to annotate and comment on pretty much everything that gave me feelings.

But for now, there is one massive issue that I want to address, and it plays into the plot for all three books.

Warning for those who have not read Any Way The Wind Blows, this post contains spoilers, so proceed with caution. I am tagging this appropriately, but adding an extra warning just in case.

Huge thanks to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz for reading this over and making sure I didn't sound like a rambling mess.

The World of Mages is an incredibly toxic place! This is especially true for anyone who isn’t a magical powerhouse, or stupid rich.

I’m going to not focus on the obvious socio-economic bullshit, because I’m not familiar enough with the British class system to properly comment on it. But if anyone wants to add onto this with a whole meta like that, please do so!

Instead, I’m going to focus on magic use and how detrimental it can be to grow up in this world if you aren’t one of the few who are blessed with the RIGHT kind of magic (I say right kind of magic for a reason, and I’m going to come back to that). I want to focus my attention on three characters (two of whom were drawn into Smith-Richard’s fake promises, and one who was just fed up with it all): Martin Bunce, Daphne Grimm, and Agatha Wellbelove.

1) Martin Bunce: We first hear about Martin Bunce in Carry On. He’s Penny’s dad, a renowned scholar and is leading a team researching the effects of the Insidious Humdrum. He’s a highly respected individual, in his own right. Penny adores him, she only speaks his praises, and I get the feeling she gets along better with Martin, then she does with Mitali. When Penny needs help with Shep’s curse, she trusts her dad to help her after her mother flat out refuses.

While Martin is respected in the community, he isn’t a magical powerhouse. In fact, he isn’t very powerful at all. Baz makes a cheeky little comment about how he must have come from mundanity with a name like “Bunce”, and he doesn’t teach any magical classes at Watford, he focuses mainly on Linguistics.

Professor Bunce is one of the people taken in by Smith-Richard’s message, and I’m kind of glad he is. It shows that Smith-Richard’s message can reach anyone, even someone as scholarly and learned as Martin. Martin Bunce is intelligent, loving, devoted, and the apple of his family’s eye. But, when push comes to shove, all that does not matter because in the end, he isn’t as magically powerful as his wife and kids. How many times has Martin been compared to his wife? How many times has he been compared to his kids? What was it like going to Watford and having to hear about how you barely scraped by in the magical classes? His whole family is obsessed with magic, his daughter's best friend is the Most Powerful Mage. Martin is constantly surrounded by people making comments about power and magic and being strong enough as a magician.

That stuff stays with you... So when you see someone performing magic that can pull you to your full potential, of COURSE you grab onto it and hope that it’s a real thing.

Something interesting to note here; Towards the end of AWTWB, Martin casts a drinking spell, and Baz makes a comment about anyone who could cast that spell in quick succession doesn’t need a power-up. Now, was Martin truly not powerful, or did he just not have the right type of magic? Could he have been a better magician if he was able to find the right situations where his magic responded better? If he was allowed to learn in a way where his magic could have reached its full potential, without the use of a horrible curse?

I have a teaching background, and I’ve worked with a lot of kids in Inclusive Education. I’ve had to differentiate practically all of my lesson plans so that all the kids in my classroom would understand the lesson and be able to reach the goals outlined for them. Admittedly, it’s been a while since I’ve taught, but I look at stuff like this in the World of Mages and my teaching ear perks up.

2) Agatha Wellbelove: Another person who comes to mind, especially with not having the right kind of magic is Agatha Wellbelove. Agatha does not see herself as a very strong magician. She tells Simon that magic for her is like holding a muscle. Pair that up with a mother who is OBSESSED with magic and power and who’s got the most power, and which magical matches will bring about powerful children, and you get someone who becomes resentful of the whole effing thing! I’m not even going to touch the whole “dating the Chosen One” thing because that’s a whole other can of worms.

When we first meet Agatha, she’s already fed up with magic, and wants nothing to do with it, and I can’t say I blame her. She spends all of Wayward Son running away from magic, and meandering through life, being still so unsure of herself and of her place in the world. She calls herself a poor excuse for a magician, yet she manages to save both herself and Penny from the NowNext by summoning fire! That’s a huge flipping deal! Not everyone can do that, yet Agatha is able to summon the power inside herself to do so! Imagine the wonderful magic she could have done if she was taught in a way that spoke to her.

In AWTWB, she is the ONLY person who is able to get through to the Goats. Her magic seems to be connected to nature (if I had to guess). The Dryad, all the way back in Carry On, tells Simon that she and the others find Agatha “peaceful”. That’s her magic. Agatha was able to come full circle by finding peace with the magic she has. She was able to find a place for it. What’s sad is that she felt the need to run away and not want to have it in her life anymore. Her magic is beautiful, yet not enough.

3) Daphne Grimm: So, this is the character that stood out to me the most. Daphne is the reason I even wanted to write this commentary. Those of you who know me, know that I adore this character. Partly because, I’m obsessed with the idea that Baz has people looking out for him and who care about him.

Anyway, Ms. Daphne Grimm is the apple of my eye essentially. I love her, I adore her, and she is treated SO UNFAIRLY by the World of Mages.

What do we know about Daphne? She is Baz’s stepmum, and has four kids with Malcolm. From the first book, there are snarky little comments about Daphne’s lack or power and magic. Baz himself makes a shitty comment about how Daphne’s “blood is as thin as gruel”, even though Daphne goes out of her way to make sure he’s got food sent to his room. She’s extra careful in making sure Baz feels safe in his own home. She suggests to Malcolm that Baz should see a therapist for everything he’s been through, making her the ONLY parent who not only acknowledges her child’s trauma, but tries to do something about it!

She is a GOOD mom!

Ok, we know that Baz wears a ton of masks of indifference in Carry On, and he softens up tremendously in Wayward Son, calling her lovely while teaching him to drive a car.

We learn a lot about Daphne in Any Way The Wind Blows. Namely that Fiona has some pretty nasty opinions about her. (That comment about her kids not being legitimate, and that she’s as “thick headed as she is thin blooded”. Now, imagine you’re Daphne, and the widower of the Great Natasha Pitch asks to marry you. That’s already some MASSIVE shoes to fill. You accept, and you do the best you can, taking care of his son and being a positive presence in his life, meanwhile going to all these posh functions where EVERYONE talks about power and magic. Then to have the sister of your husband’s first wife make snarky comments about your level of power and magic.

That stuff sticks with you.

Daphne doesn’t want her kids going to Watford, the ONLY magical school in the UK (as far as we know). She wants her children to succeed and be known for everything they are capable of doing, instead of being ridiculed for all the ways they’ll come up short. According to Baz, the only reason Daphne graduated from Watford was because she was smart enough to pass every exam (yet, Fiona still makes snarky comments about her intelligence).

Daphne is well aware of how painful it can be to live in the World of Mages and not be a powerhouse magician. Like Martin, she takes matters into her own hands and seeks out a way to make herself more powerful.

It is heartbreaking to look at these three amazing, beloved characters, and think about the suffering they have had to endure by their peers. Both Daphne and Martin get frustrated when those around them question their choice to follow Smith-Richards, stating “you don’t know what it’s like”. Luckily for Daphne, Baz makes an effort to actually understand her, and doesn’t judge her. Even when Fiona mocks her, Baz defends his stepmum. When Daphne berates herself and compares herself to Natasha, Baz reflects on how Natasha would have killed him (something Daphne would NEVER do to any of her children).

We know that Watford did not allow magical creatures, or differently-abled magicians (I use this term for a reason) to study there until the Mage came around and allowed everyone into Watford. This was a great thing, because now, every magical child was given the opportunity to learn how to speak with magic.

However, it should not have stopped there. I spoke earlier on differentiation and on finding the right place for everyone’s magic. What if magicians like Martin, and Daphne, and Agatha are all powerful in their own right, and they just haven’t found their place where their magic fits? Instead of finding the right way to teach these magicians, they are left to struggle and ultimately resent their magic and the magic of the world around them.

Do I hear a social commentary on the state of standardized education? I can’t really comment on the British Educational System, nor the American one, as I am Canadian. What I can say, from my own experience in Canadian classrooms, is that for all the talk we do on making education inclusive, there is still a big push from higher ups for high grades and standardized testing. If any of my followers are British or American and care to share your two cents, feel free to do so. Let’s keep the conversation going!

I think this post might have gotten away from me. I think my point was to act as a defense for people like Daphne and Martin who found themselves fished into a scam all for the promise of feeling like they are enough in their world. I also wanted to defend people like Agatha, who did all she could to run away from all of it, only to find the place where she (and her magic) belonged.

I remember having this discussion on Discord, and one of the points that came up was that maybe The Greatest Threat to the World of Mages was this deeply ingrained prejudice over magicians with different sorts of magic. Magicians who need that extra bit of help to find their way.

We’ve seen in this series how these prejudices can threaten to split the World of Mages apart, and it looks like magicians like Penny, Baz, and Agatha are learning from these mistakes. Only time (and us fanfiction writers) will tell how they end up shaping their world for the future generations.

[strawberrysoup]

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 1

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever. 

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader word length: 3.3k chapters: 1/? warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. Open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter.

Cleaning rich people’s vacation homes hadn’t been your dream job growing up. You had such high hopes when you were a kid, well into your teens, of becoming a zoologist. It had started off like most kid’s dreams—in kindergarten you wanted to be a veterinarian. That grew into wanting to become a herpetologist, but then you wondered, why limit yourself? As a zoologist you could be around tons and tons of animals, studying their behaviors and ecological impacts. It was about half way past your fourteenth birthday that you realized none of your dreams mattered.

You woke in the middle of the night to a crippling pain in your stomach, an unbearable heat boiling under your flesh. You must’ve been screaming, because your parents burst in frantically—only to stop dead upon stepping past the threshold. At the time you had no idea why, but it had been shock. Omegas were rare nowadays, more and more betas were being born while the number of omegas dropped. It was a point on contention; betas could breed with alphas, rendering the omega almost obsolete but alphas, especially ones with packs, wanted omegas.

Personally, you figured that evolution had decided to take things into its’ own hands. Everything about omegas spat in the face of adaption; they were small and delicate, hardwired to obey alpha commands even to their own detriment, experienced a full weeks’ worth of being completely and utterly incapable of survival on their own—

Well, unless one acquired (through whatever means necessary) methods to prevent it that one. Heats, a homegrown threat guaranteed to commit acts of violence at least twice a year. By the time your first had worn off, your parents had already jumped into action. They had three different packs bidding on you. Your mother had been bubbling with glee, talking about how wonderful it was that she had produced an omega when she herself was a beta. Your very existence was about to rocket them into both fame and fortune. So, you ran away. That same night.

It had been shockingly easy to locate illegal suppressants. They taught all about them in school, how they were horrible and taxing on an omega’s physiology. Suppressants masked an omega’s scent, prevented their heats, and (in your opinion) were the best invention of the twenty first century. You couldn’t have given a flying fuck about what negative impacts they might’ve had on your body—death would be a reprieve. Unfortunately you’d yet to have any of the widely touted negative effects (effects that you were pretty sure were made up to keep omegas afraid and compliant) and so you found yourself cleaning rich people’s vacation homes just over the Canadian border.

You’d been living out of your car since you first bought it at sixteen, for five hundred dollars. You gave a creepy beta a blowjob to get your license forged. It was the best investment you’d ever made (not that you had the opportunity to make many) and the clunker was still getting you from point A to point B and that’s all you needed. You had to move constantly, staying in one place too long meant people started to notice you, especially in the small towns you frequented in Ontario. But there was so much forest surrounding you that every once in a while you could just drop off the face of the earth, camping so deep in the woods no one would stumble across you. It made staying anonymous so much easier.

That was actually the current plan, after you finished cleaning this last massive cabin; to abscond into the woods for a while, until you’ve faded from everyone’s memory. You won’t return to this town for at least a year. You’ll spark recognition when you return, but not enough for anyone to consider you more than an outsider in their close-knit community. The kind woman who lets you work for her cleaning company so sporadically will remember you when you ring her, the only person particularly thrilled to hear you’re back for a few months.

You do an excellent job and you do it fast— you can thoroughly and perfectly clean a 6 bedroom mansion by yourself in less than 10 hours and you were paid under the table so you didn’t require overtime, which Mrs. Hunt loved (there was no tax to be taken from an unreported cash payment though, so it was a fair trade in your opinion). You would work yourself to the bone, 10 hours a day everyday there was work available for at least three months and then dip without any expectations until the next time you returned, when she was gushing over the amazing reviews your work had gotten the last time you were around.

It was symbiotic existence—you were paid well for your efforts, more than enough to sustain living out of your car for months at a time, and your performance drove her online reviews into the 4.9 stars range and made it feasible for her to raise her prices. Mrs. Hunt didn’t ask any questions either, even when you requested to only work alone and couldn’t provide any identification beyond a driver’s license.

You were finishing up the kitchen in what was definitely one of the nicest places you’d ever cleaned when your phone went off in your back pocket. It made your skin prickle. Very few people had your number and you couldn’t think of a single reason they’d ring you instead of texting unless something was wrong.  You propped the mop against your shoulder and dug out the phone, frowning at Mrs. Hunt’s name on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Oh sweetie, I’m so glad I got a hold of you! How are you doing?”

“I’m well, Mrs. Hunt,” you answered, your voice coming out semi-robotically as you strained not to sound panicked while continuing the conversation like a normal fucking person, “I’m just about done here, I was finishing the dry mop in the kitchen when you called and then all I need to do is pack up.”

“Oh perfect! I was calling because the owner just rang me, apparently some of his packmates will be arriving a bit earlier than anticipated—potentially within the next hour. Something about someone getting caught up at work, I’ll spare you the details. But if you’re almost done then you’ll probably be gone by the time they arrive.”

“Certainly Mrs. Hunt,” you’d immediately started frantically dry mopping the moment the words ‘within the next hour’ escaped the woman’s mouth, phone clamped between your ear and shoulder. “I’ll be gone in the next few minutes.”

“Now even if you aren’t its okay,” the concern in her voice meant that your own had betrayed you, waivered when you responded without your knowledge. “I always warn the owners that if they arrive before the scheduled time that there’s a possibility the house won’t be done and/or there might be people actively working in the house. You won’t get in any trouble, okay?”

“R-Right, thank you ma’am,” you swallowed heavily, finishing the last swipe across the tile in the kitchen and hustling back into the foyer. “I really won’t be but a minute though. I always keep all of my equipment put away and together if I’m not using it, so I really just need to pack up the mop.”

Which you’d already shoved into the rolling cart you picked up each morning that held all of your cleaning supplies provided by the company.

“Don’t forget your bucket too!” Mrs. Hunt sounded smiley again, “I’ll leave the key under the mat so you can stow your cart tonight. Have a good one swee—.”

“You too!” You might’ve hung up a touch too soon to be considered polite, shoving the phone back into your pocket and running into the kitchen. There was no time to dwell on manners. 

The mop bucket was sitting on the counter, already washed and dried and waiting to be put away. You’d started keeping your things completely put away at all times the same day you’d been accosted by a homeowner who arrived home earlier than expected while you were still trying to pack up. You’d tried to put your notice in that night, a couple of years ago now, but Mrs. Hunt begged you not to—promised it would never happen again. This must’ve been her best attempt at preventing it. At least you had already planned to leave town tonight anyway.

You nearly sprinted back to the cart, haphazardly tossing the stupid bucket on top and wheeling it towards the huge front doors. You’d just stopped to reach around and grab the handle when the knob turned and the left door was pushed open, nearly hitting your cart.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he was a beta, curly haired and dark eyed with pale skin, wearing a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Did I knock anything over?”

“N-No, sir,” you pulled the cart back a few steps, nearly trembling with the effort it took not to blast right past him, especially when you noticed him carefully scenting the air. "The house is all clean, I was j-just leaving.”

“Thank you, for getting everything clean for us. We don’t get to come out here as often as we like, I’m sure the place collected a lot of dust in our absence,” he smiled, looking both parts shy and calculating to your well trained eye— and you had no time for such consideration.

“Not too much, h-have a nice night!” You could feel your pulse racing and that was bad. Even the good suppressants, the ones that most of your money went to, had difficulty completely masking the scent of panicking omega.

“Did you use bleach?” The question caught you off guard and you almost jumped when he put a hand on your cart, glancing through the array of chemicals.

“Y-Yes, in the bathrooms. I wasn’t informed of any sensitivities—”

“Nothing a little fresh air won’t take care of,” you wanted him to stop looking at you like that, like there was some pale flash of recognition behind his eyes. “Would you go open the windows in the bathrooms upstairs? I’m afraid my nose is pretty sensitive, several of my packmates are similar.”

You did not like that his nose was especially sensitive and you hated that his packmates were similarly afflicted. It felt like getting punched in the face with a fight or flight instinct, your brain immediately demanded that you leave the cart and run past him—fuck the cart, fuck the job, you could find something else.

“Oh, and do you have the key to the front doors? I might as well get them from you now instead of us having to go down to the office tomorrow.” Your hand immediately dove into your pocket, yanking out the single key and dropping it in his palm. “Thanks— and the windows? Sorry, I just can’t go up there until it’s aired out.”

He wasn’t a huge man but the way he filled the doorway made you second guess trying to run past him, even if he was greying at the temples and looking a little rumpled. It was strange, you wouldn’t usually have such an intense reaction to a beta, but something about him was vaguely unsettling. So instead of trying to make a run for it, you turned on your heel and forced yourself to calmly walk up the stairs. There were four massive bedrooms in the cabin, each with its own bathroom and you’d need to go through and open the windows for the three bathrooms that had them. It meant darting into huge bedrooms, dodging expensive furniture and knickknacks and trying not to dirty the freshly mopped and swept hardwood floors in the process.

It took about five minutes but you felt like you’d run a marathon, your heart was pounding and there was sweat at the nape of your neck. All you wanted was out of the stupid fucking house, immediately. You dashed down the stairs and turned the corner, seeing your cart right where you left it. The door was still open too, but the beta was no where to be seen. You immediately darted forward, grabbing the cart tightly and beginning to push it past the threshold—

You were stopped in your tracks at the sight of two unnecessarily broad alphas. Both were tall, the white man standing just an inch or so taller, with a full beard and blond hair. The black alpha had facial hair too, a cleanly edged goatee to match a faded cut. Both were incredibly attractive and putting off waves of pheromones, to the point that your head floated for a moment.  Your lips clamped shut on a whine, instinct trying to push through and alert the two powerful alphas of your presence. Instead you ducked your head and continued out the door.

“Hi there, sweetheart.” Your gaze snapped up, immediately locking with a pair of dark brown eyes. “You the housekeeper?”

“Yes sir,” you answered quietly, stopping short in front of them when neither moved out of your way. “Sorry to have been here so late. Have a good evening.”

Both were still smiling, still pointedly not moving.

“My name’s Steve, that’s Sam,” the blond’s nose twitched, just slightly, and you realized he was very discretely scenting the air. “Nice to meet you. Do you live in town?”

“N-No, please excuse me,” you nudged the cart forward just an inch but they still didn’t budge and panic began coursing through your blood with renewed vigor, “excuse m—”

“Your scent is… confusing,” Steve’s head tilted to the side, “I don’t mean to be crass, of course, but I couldn’t help but notice.”

“It’s always been this way,” the response was automatic and your brain began shutting down all unnecessary functions; you were about to have to run and hope your omega physiology would make you faster than them.

“You smell almost like an omega,” he continued, both hands coming to rest on his hips, emphasizing the width of his shoulders. “But not quite?”

“I’m a beta.”

“Are you sweetheart?” Sam’s voice was a rumble, his head tilted to the side while his dark eyes burned holes into your skin.

The tone an alpha used with naughty omegas was deliberate and tightly controlled, the same as a command or a purr or a growl. It was on purpose, an attempt to nicely draw out the correct response. He wanted you to admit you were an omega, to tell them the truth of your own volition. The fact that your hindbrain desperately wanted to comply was a completely different issue—one you didn’t have time to address right now.

“Positive,” you breathed, clenching your fists tightly around the handles of the cart for just a second before deciding to leave it behind; you’d never be coming back here, there was no reason to worry about preserving your job.

Your eyes were quick and indefinitely perceptive. Being an omega was one step up from being a prey species, it came with inherent instincts that made you especially good at predicting behaviors. After all, an omega was only as good as their ability to please and soothe packmates. One of the single upsides to being an omega was that you were fast though—fast enough to outrun most alphas. And you only needed to go about a hundred and fifty feet, once you were in your car you could certainly get away. So the second you realized the pair was about to shift, moving to face each other more than you, you darted around the cart and dodged to the left.

It wasn’t your fault, honestly. There was no way you could’ve known you weren’t dealing with normal alphas. The blond was so fast that he almost moved between blinks—one moment he was still, the next he’d wrapped his arms around you and tugged you back into his chest. His arms were like steel, one wrapped around your torso to keep your arms pinned to your sides while the other carefully held your chin. Your hindbrain was screaming now, submit, submit, make alpha happy and you bit down on your tongue to hold in the whimpers, the omega sounds your throat was trying to produce.

“Shhh, shh, calm down,” it was half a tone away from being a purr and you continued to squirm while you still could—an alpha command was coming, you could feel it in your bones.

“Let Steve smell you,” Sam was rumbling instead of talking again, a similar half purr to how Steve had started speaking. "Everything’s okay, omega.”

You felt a nose nudge down your neck, towards your scent gland and you bared your teeth at the man in front of you. “I’m not an omega!”

“You smell like omega,” Steve’s breath ghosted over your skin and you fought a shiver. "Sort of. It’s buried, under… beta… sour beta?”

“What sort of suppressants are you on, sweetie?” You startled as the beta from earlier emerged from the house, wiping his hands on a dish towel absently. "Are you cutting them with anything? Heroin, or coke? It’s okay, you just need to tell me.”

“Tell Bruce sweetheart,” Sam coaxed, automatically moving to roll up the sleeves of your shirt, evidently looking for track marks. "Where do you get them?”

“I’m not on suppressants!” Your voice was almost a shriek at this point, desperately imitating the behavior of an angry beta rather than a terrified omega. “I’m a beta! Get off of me!”

“Okay, okay, here then,” Steve’s arm around your torso tightened, the one on your chin beginning to work its way down towards your jeans. "There’s only way one to tell for sure.”

Shock and fear and humiliation; an array of emotions swarmed through your body as his hand popped the button but those were the three you could identify and you immediately started thrashing your legs—he was going to check if you had an omega ridge and then everything would be over. It was a defining physical characteristic that couldn’t be passed off as anything other than what it was: a boney protrusion meant to catch on an alpha’s knot so they could be locked in place. In females it was found in the vagina, prominently featured directly before the g-spot so a knot would cause persisting pleasure. For males it was similarly positioned next to the prostate.

“Calm down, calm down!” Sam crooned, hands coming up to cup your face as while Steve’s slithered down the front of your jeans and into your panties. "It’s okay sweetheart, no matter what. Whatever Steve finds, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll keep you safe.”

The thrashing was doing nothing but tiring you out, you’d already been intensively cleaning for the past 9 hours without a break and it certainly wasn’t dissuading the hand slithering between your folds. You bit down on your tongue harder, until you drew blood to prevent the whimpers—you couldn’t make that stupid sound, you’d never make that stupid, pathetic, whiney noise, you couldn’t. Not even when a long, thick finger penetrated and sunk knuckle deep. Not even when the pad of said finger brushed your g-spot before hooking onto the ridge, tugging gently in a way that would’ve caused blinding pleasure had you not grounded yourself with the pain of biting your tongue.

“There it is,” Steve’s voice was soft, finger carefully running the length of the ridge. "A nice deep one too.”

“How long have you been taking suppressants?” Bruce prodded quietly, coming to stand next to Sam. “I need to know what sort of damage we’re looking at.”

When you didn’t respond Sam sighed, fingers brushing gently over your chin as he directed you to face him. "Please don’t make us use an alpha command, sweetheart. We just wanna take care of you. Tell Bruce how long you’ve been on suppressants, please.”

You regarded the handsome alpha for several short moments before spitting a mouthful of blood directly into his face.

 content warnings: assault, noncon vaginal fingering

edited 7/9/21 - still on hiatus

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

sorry for all the harry potter posting in 2021…. but like….. reflecting on just how dark the later books were/are, why on earth did every harry potter fan always romanticise having a movie marathon with the movies??? like yeah, it’s basically what i’ve been doing for the last few weekends staying at my sister’s on my own…. and since i’ve been awake this morning, i’ve gone through ootp, hbp and deathly hallows part 1 so far….. and like…… these movies, to me, aren’t really made for marathon watching/binge watching in a sense….. due to the heavy subject matter imo. they’re made to be standalone (although part of a series) viewed movies one by one, not back to back to back in succession; when there’s just so many incredibly substantial themes like death and obviously racism, systemic corruption etc etc. to be thought about while watching.

like of course everyone is going to say that im reading far too deeply into this and that the hp books and movies are trash….. but like the constant romanticisation in the 2000s and early 2010s of wanting to do harry potter marathons as if they were as cutesy and happy go-lucky as romcoms…. or simply just as lighthearted kids movies backed by whimsy and fuzzy feelings back in the day, was just so fucking backward.

like obvs since im older now, i can see that harry was abused by petunia & vernon for example. and by reading other teen fiction (specifically aussie YA fiction series’ tomorrow when the war began series and the ellie chronicles trilogy); harry’s horrible dreams/flashbacks of cedric before/after he was killed in goblet of fire is a symptom of PTSD (which i read in harry potter essays in uni when i did i philosophy essay on epistemic injustice in ootp in the courtroom scene). i can actually see how harry is being used as a pawn by dumbledore in his master plan. and obvs in analysing these things im putting my apparently “useless” arts degree in english and philosophy to use lmao. and of course as kids, we either ignored those themes or never picked up on them because they went straight over our heads.

on this bent then, another YA movie series that is NOT made for binge watching is the hunger games. which i found out to my own kind of detriment last year….. considering that i had never bothered to read the books back when they were popular past the titular namesake hunger games book (and had also forgotten all the early 2010s tumblr posts about how dark it was)…. while deciding to watch all the movies til catching fire part 1 in a binge watch sesh in the middle of 2020. the binge watch sesh was also spurred on by the book about young president snow that came out in 2020 lol.

so last year, when i finally decided to watch hunger games, i could actually understand and contemplate the political ramifications of katniss’s & peeta’s behaviour and defiance… which was something that i completely brushed off while it was hugely popular in the early 2010s because it was “too political”…… while i utterly denied the GLARINGLY OBVIOUS major political undertones and themes in harry potter because i was so obsessed with it….. but I obvs was most specifically preoccupied with what hogwarts house i’d be in lmao and whether i was more like hermione/luna/ginny or a mix of all of them. like yeah. it was so backward.

of course, the HP movies do have a bingeable quality to them; but my god. from really goblet of fire onwards, they’re heavy as fuck and really don’t need to be binged back to back in succession….. like you can do with how i met your mother or Loki eps in terms of tv shows. or idek, for movies, old rom-com faves like suddenly 30/13 going on 30 or rom-coms starring sandra bullock (bc they’re some of my faves)…. or teen indie comedy faves like juno or napoleon dynamite.

bc harry potter at it’s core, is a war story, more obviously from the end of GOF til the end of the series. it’s heavy, it’s dark, and emotionally devastating (for me when i was younger obvs). in some scenes, such as when harry returns with cedric’s dead body in GOF and it’s backed by the cheery marching band music but then drowned out by fleur’s scream and amos diggory dramatically scream sobbing “MY BOOOOOY!!! MY SOOON!!! MY BOY IS DEAD!!!!” (which as a kid i used to laugh incredibly inappropriately at every bloody time i watched it)…. but NOW??? THE PAIN! THE SUFFERING! THE TURMOIL! which is finally paired with the sad score music and camera panning out from the tri-wizard cup school stadium??? oh! i am but torn asunder by it all (okay not really, but i feel amos’s pain more acutely and i can shed a tear or two is the point here). and speaking of GOF, it’s pretty sad that over the years, it’s always been reduced to “C A L M L Y” and hermione’s yule ball dress being pink instead of blue bc of both the real and supposed lack of book to film accuracy…. when there’s obvs more important things to focus on lol.

bc literally one of the most horrifying scenes in the gof movie for me, in retrospect, is voldemort being reborn???? and wormtail sacrificing his own hand to get that essentially cursed silver hand that ends up strangling him to death in DHP1. and also david tennant’s albeit very disappointingly short appearances as barty crouch jr???? that was good casting. and also the incredibly fucked up storyline in GOF of BCJ imprisoning the real mad eye moody in moody’s own enchanted chest for his hair for polyjuice potion???? it hit me last week again (bc it hit me in 2020 when i reread the series with audiobooks as well) just how ridiculously FUCKED UP and BATSHIT that ENTIRE storyline really was. and i read and watched that???? and was fine with it at 10 years old???? jesus christ lmao.

okay. i went a bit off topic and overboard. but y’all get what i mean??? it’s so weird that an entire generation romanticised a YA series that was essentially about a war in its later instalments (and obvs a full blown one by deathly hallows) as some cutesy marathonable story bc it was/is so whimsical and its filled with childhood memories. but in doing it myself over the last few weeks, it’s just not. it was definitely one of the heftiest book series for kids/teens back then. but also for the movies, aside for their run times mostly all being close to 3hrs long, they’re quite emotionally charged and are astonishingly dark & dense in subject matter/themes for a KIDS movie series for the backend of the series. and mostly the only reason it’s “marathonable” in a sense, is because we all know the story so well.

[jonroxton]

can you talk about chlark beyond chloe? personally i think it's weird that the writers kept adding kisses and weird romantic moments without any pay off. i don't know much about the fandom back then but i think the writers were baiting fans since clark/chloe seems to be the second most popular ship after clex. second i personally think chloe would never be happy with clark or anyone tbh and she doesn't seem like the type of person who would have kids so the finale was weird to me.

this got looooong :)

0. it WAS weird, and the choice to never not once go for it with them was to the story's detriment. I'll get into it a little later on in this post.

Re: shipping in sv fandom. there was definitely drama (clana was HUGE when the show was airing and every ship was basically derailed by it lol) but I stayed in my clois lane with a small circle of fandom friends much like I do now. a good measure of clois fans were fans of lois and clark from other mediums, come to sv just for lois and clark, myself included. we were pretty insulated as a fandom even back then. I do remember seeing more Chlark after the S5 finale (when Chloe kisses him goodbye), but those dropped off after Jimmy was introduced right away in S6. The most drama I encountered was with Chloisers: Chloe fans who believed wholeheartedly that Chloe was Lois. They hated SV!Lois and were convinced she would die so Chloe could take her name and job and place by Clark's side, thus a Chlark endgame. this was a popular theory amongst that fandom even into s9, when the clois ball started to roll for true.

bait and switch

a lot of Chlark is rooted in this notion that chloe WOULD be the best thing for Clark, the ideal Lois, the true best friend, the human hand guiding him through Earth's troubles. she would be could be the BEST possible lois archetype for Clark. it's not a wrong interpretation. she was specifically written as a lois-and-lana-proxy (teenage lana is a reporter in some AUs and even some as an adult as a tv correspondent) and she's given many lois-ish traits (tenacious, secretly crushing on clark and in denial), but this interpretation is deeply flawed. first, because lois does eventually enter into the picture and she has her own defining traits that, when compared to chloe, make chloe seem much shallower than realized. secondly, within the complete context of the story, her position in the greater narrative is not as ~the one who got away, the way it did very early on in S1-S4, but one who clark tolerates.

they're friends because clark is forgiving and chloe has staying power. their friendship is riddled with insecurities and unknowns the characters create for themselves. their dynamic is defined by conflict, not resolutions. this is not made easy by the fact that chloe is such a strangely written character, but ultimately she is positioned as a counter to clark achieving his happiness. not a thematic narrative foil but an obstacle clark eventually relents to.

2. and it has been so from the get-go

S1 is the best season for them and the single season which actually considers Clark's side in this dynamic. everything about them later on can be explained with how they are in this season. and that's the problem. when they're 14 it's nice teen angst drama and works perfectly to establish the dynamic. when they're 24 it's at best a pattern, at worst regression. we expect certain behaviors, dismiss them too, when it's children, at least I do. clark and chloe never move beyond the dynamic they establish in s1 and early s2. in essence, clark and chloe remain children around each other. they have many discussions in the later seasons that make at least one appear petulant.

so S1 clark has just been told the greatest secret of his existence and he imprints on lana hard that same night (right AFTER jonathan tells him, he meets lana at the graveyard and talks to her for the first time EVER, a lot of childhood imprinting going on in SV). all of s1 follows clark's heartache over lana, watching her from afar and figuring out a way to be near her. this pain is exacerbated by the fact that he believes he caused her her greatest grief: the death of her parents via the meteor shower which he arrived in.

here the first beat of the chlark dynamic is established: chloe's job and passion – the wall of weird and her pursuing the meteor infected oddities of SV - directly affects clark in a negative way (he's suicidal for much of s1-s3). so her crush on him is countered with her unknowingly causing him great grief. om top of that: clark becomes part of this passion of hers and she eventually begins to pursue him as a story to be uncovered, very superman yes. here tho, it causes nothing but strife for them and paints chloe in an awful light (and clark too, highlighting his refusal to open up). I personally enjoy this aspect of them in s1. bc they're so young I give em a free pass and it's a good conflict playing around with old superman tropes, but it makes for a fraught friendship.

3. the second beat

is that neither chloe's crush on clark, nor his asking her to stop pursuing his truth, do anything to stay her. her tenaciousness becomes intrusiveness and inconsideration (many of her accomplishments irt the daily planet are directly bc she betrays clark). she simply will not listen to her friend and does not believe his livelihood and autonomy is worth losing a story over. this is literally the opposite of comics/live action lois lane, who in various versions drops the clark reveal story to protect him. this passion turns vindictive pretty early for chloe, who eventually pursues stories about clark out of jealousy and entitlement (against lana also).

4. the third beat

is that clark doesn't ever see chloe as romantic prospect except this time in s1. the tornado trapping lana pulls him away from any solidifying of the clark/chloe dynamic, and that's that. but we know clark was willing to go for it in early s2 when he apologizes to chloe about running off on her. it's chloe who decides not to go on with the relationship. clark is visibly confused, but also 15 so he can't see that chloe is putting on a brave front to protect herself from clark running off again. I liked this too as it's another play on superman tropes, but my sympathy for them stops here.

5. and stays here

these beats are the entirety of this dynamic. everything about chlark can be distilled down to their childhood. it's why I don't hate them completely, bc I have a lot of love for kids who hurt in such a way and that time is never easy. in s8 (I think its s8) when we get a flashback to when they meet as kids (more imprinting!). little tenacious cute chloe kisses insecure clark bc of the funny awkward tension, acknowledging it, and then immediately takes it back because they're better as friends. (also they’re like 11 lol)

every single romantic moment with them is undercut either by chloe herself, or by the presence of other storylines/romances the writers wanted to pursue. the lack of integrity in chloe and the lack of interest in clark, regardless of how sincere their connection or how messed up, is a central part of their dynamic that needs to be reconciled with their friendship. and its exhausting bc there is never a point they are ever truly comfortable around each other.

6. to a fault

knowing the secret doesn't change chloe's methods. it doesn't make chloe clark's great confidante. if anything, it complicates matters for both because their relationship then becomes about the greater good and clark's great destiny. everything chloe does becomes about that, which in theory sounds awesome, but is executed much the same way as s1!chlark: by reiterating behaviors that highlight the negative aspects of that loyalty and the negative aspects of their characters.

the single time they do actively examine what this loyalty means and how chloe's hero complex complicates things for chlark is with s8 and davis. she protects davis with the skills of subterfuge and secrecy she developed as clark's friend. and it costs her jimmy and a lot of her personal integrity as a character. tho ironically it makes chloe the strongest she's been as a character. this is the first time clark is forced to view chloe as an enemy and he never quite recovers from discovering the dark depths she’s willing to go to. 

it's an arc dealing with the established beats: how far chloe is willing to go for a kryptonian (very far), how much she's willing to do for him (A LOT and all of it illegal), and what it costs her (jimmy). it deals with her jealousy (always second choice) and her motivations (uncovering the truth). this great want that she struggled with for years is turned on its head and examined, revealing just how weird and dark her hero complex is because obviously davis is not clark. davis/chloe served to highlight more than any other arc how it's really too bad that clark never saw her that way, because she has so much love to give and when channeled, it's a great force. only it's a great force for evil. clark has to confront that it’s not just lex but his other closest friend who is willing to go so far. they backtrack hard in s9 and s10 but they keep this underlying wariness in clark towards Chloe throughout. it’s not anything new, but it’s no longer subtext that clark doesn’t fully trust chloe.

7. And that's the rub

in the end. chloe and clark have many storylines they're in together and chloe's important.... to develop clark and as a counter to clark. clark never instigates anything, not once, for 9 years! when the show did give us Moments TM, clark is reacting, not actively making choices to connect to her. if anything, clark is incredibly awkward about chloe when they become intimate. he doesn't seem to know what to do with her crushing on him (the elevator scene is a great one to show just how awkward chloe makes him feel). more than that. clark never tells her his secret. and later on, chloe doesn't tell him half the crazy wild shit she does to protect him bc she knows he would disapprove. I still hold that the only reason they work is bc clark is a forgiving character and would give her chance after chance after chance. that's the watsonian explanation, but the doylist explanation is that the writers just never cared to explore them beyond this point.

8. and what was beyond that point?

they would've been a great counter to lexana in S6 and early clana (clark finally having a gf who knows). it’s playing the clark/Chloe as a straight lois/clark proxy before actually pursuing lois and clark. it could’ve been the precursor to davis and caused an even more personal conflict! the kiss at the end of s5 was their chance. they could've written chlark devolving much the same way lexana did in s6 (or not). but again. the writers never went that far and clearly never wanted to. it kept chlark forever in this stage of childhood friendship always on the brink of collapsing, tittering either way. it's also tough to speculate bc clark's just not into her. in fact he becomes more and more wary of her, to the point where he believes she can do horrible things, and he's right. the stories continually make their methods complete opposite.

they go out of their way to show chloe realizing how happy clark is with lois. and even play a joke on the fandom by literally turning her into lois and seeing the sparks between her friends. it's almost... cruel but it does serve to show how clark is when he's smitten and he's never looked at chloe that way except during the dance when they were kids. other unrequited dynamics have at least some spark from the desired, but nil from clark. clark is into chloe in late s1, but she shuts him down, and when he seems to be into her again (damn that s5 kiss was a good one lol), she shuts him down again. it's just a weird writing choice all around, and that they kept nuggets of it throughout the show is the thing I cringe at most whenever I rewatch.

9. bait and switch 2

with hindsight it is definitely ship baiting and that sucks for that dynamic bc without it their friendship would’ve been the stronger, or at least not full of so much negativity. all it did was remind everyone that chloe’s been duped since she was a kid and that clark is both stupid and strange for never noticing and letting her get away with shit just bc she’s the most loyal. I don’t ship them and even I get frustrated lol

[mothernaturesdaughter]

2, 12, 21 for the controversial ask thing ;)

(ooh thank you anon)

2. Unpopular Paul opinion

When I was a kid, I thought he was super ugly and never understood how he could be considered "the cute one", does that count? Also, I hate his old man voice and old man face, I'm sorry I know that's unfair but I just do.

(fyi i thought ringo was OBVIOUSLY the cutest one, i was like 7)

12. What do you think of Yoko’s art?

I'm going to put the rest of this post behind a cut because I have A LOT of thoughts on Yoko's art. I was an art school kid, so... uh, I'm sorry?

I really like Yoko's art. I listened to her solo stuff before I listened to John's, and her solo stuff is really cool particularly if you like early EDM. I love her album "Yes, I'm a witch", like, what an amazing title. Yoko being a troll and fully embodying her villain reputation is my favorite Yoko. Her voice is weird, yes, but it's part of her charm, and by that album she's fully in her "idgaf what you think" phase, so i highly recommend it.

(brief aside: yoko is a funny bitch??? and no one ever talks about it and i'm just like.... john lennon married her??? you know, famously funny sarcastic bastard john lennon?? people think she's 100% serious all the time when yoko is a huge troll)

With her performance/conceptual art, I've had a harder time. Some of it is because of my own taste: Yoko's art frequently tackles simple concepts (war, love, repeat, etc) in what can feel like trite childish ways. Yknow, it's a lot of stuff like writing "Give Peace a Chance" on a wall, or this Mommy piece, or writing "Peace" and "Dream" all over New York... Even the first piece John saw of hers, the Ceiling Painting/Yes painting, is so.... cutesy. I can totally see how it appealed to John though, it's very Manic Pixie Dream Girl.

It's interesting to try and pinpoint where my own discomfort with her art comes from, because I think it's related to how hermetic Yoko is as an artist and as a person. Her art never feels personal, you never really get a sense of why she cares about these topics and what she has to say about them beyond the obvious.

But who am I to demand access to the true feelings of Yoko Ono? I think that's what makes Yoko so infuriating to people: she refuses to perform interiority for us. She refuses to show her pain through her art, to share her inner feelings (especially her grief) and being refused this access, we interpret her in the least charitable way possible. I think Yoko's feminism is very much of the "women don't owe you anything, and me in particular, I owe you less than nothing and certainly not an explanation" variety. She's not interested in being liked, and not even in being understood. I think for Ono, control is power.

That's why I think her feminist art is so much more interesting than the anti-war stuff. It's easy to forget how fundamental Yoko's work was to early 1960s and 70s feminism. In a way, I think her relationship with John was detrimental to the way we view her legacy. I'll be honest, up until I started writing this ask, I thought Cut Piece (her performance art piece from 1964 where she allowed people to cut her clothes off her) was derivative of Marina Abramović's Rythm 0, but Marina's actually happened almost a decade after Cut Piece, and Yoko's influence on it is undeniable.

This kind of misremembering for me is a symptom of how little due Yoko gets even in the art scene, and it's definitely because of her relationship with John. In a way, I think her career would've been better off without him, which is funny.

(note that i say career as in "artistic appreciation of her work", not money or even fame wise, calm down)

In regards to John-and-Yoko, I think actually they both made each other kind of worse?? at art?? In a way, that makes them so fucking interesting to me. Their vibes are so badly matched, even musically, that it's hard to understand how John could feel so strongly about this partnership. It always feels like John is a rock and roll guy to his core, while Yoko is more interested in dance music and noise. I admit I've listened to "Double Fantasy" and thought "Ugh I wish Yoko was a better singer" because the dissonance is... a lot. But actually, if you imagine an alternative universe where Yoko got together with someone like idk, Bowie, I think her music in that album could've sounded way better.

tldr; yoko's art is good, but john and yoko are one of those artistic partnerships where everyone is worse

21. Was George closer to John than Paul in the ±18 months after the first acid trip?

Nah 😂In my experience, profound revelations under psychedelics last about 48 hours.

[meimi-haneoka]

While we see a comparison with SyaoSaku and Akiho/Kaito (They might need a ship name soon), there is also this interesting contrast. Even though SyaoSaku still needs to work on communication, they do have that great level of trust when they do interact. With Akiho/Kaito, we see them having casual conversation with little issue. But when things get serious or concerning, there is some level of dismissiveness and gaslighting from Kaito, much to Momo and all of our detriments.

Thank you very much for posing this question anon, as I think I haven’t said everything I wanted to say in my analysis post, and I will use this space to ramble a little bit more about “that side” of the parallelism in this last chapter...

(long rambling under the cut)

First thing first, they do already have a ship name! :D The japanese fandom has named them “YunaAki”. Why they chose “Yuna” over “Kaito” is not clear, it seems it sounded better. After all, we don’t know which is the given name and which is the last name. As it’s a fake name, it probably doesn’t matter.

Yes, I totally agree with you. I think, probably the whole meaning of the chapter was to show how different can be the outcome for two similar situations, if you keep your heart shut and don’t trust the person you’re supposed to care for.

As you said, Syaoran and Sakura still have some minor communication issues going on, but they’re working on them and they are solving the situation, this chapter was another proof of that. It’s incredible to think that most of the resistance actually comes from Sakura, but...

Syaoran has accepted and decided to be frank with Sakura, to the point of being even too blunt, sometimes. Sakura, instead, keeps sweeping her negative emotions under the carpet, but Syaoran is slowly pulling her out of that behavioral pattern.

What do we have on the other side, the YunaAki side?

We have, first of all, two battered souls who are trying to cope with their past, each in their own way.

One is doing her best to leave her past behind, with a positive attitude, and doesn’t let the occasional moments of discomfort to halt her progress. She might trip and fall because certain scars are simply too deep to heal in such a short time, but we see Akiho being stronger and stronger, everyday.

One...is basically just doing what Sakura does, sweeps everything under the carpet, the problem is that he doesn’t do that only with the negative emotions, he does that with everything. Even the emotions that are supposed to give him joy and happiness. He’s completely, impossibly shut in himself, and doesn’t let anyone in, not even the creature who is supposed to be his ally in his “quest”.

It’s very important to keep in consideration Akiho’s and Kaito’s pasts, when analyzing their behavior, because their pasts still have great influence on their mindsets. Akiho struggles to let go the “I’m good for nothing” mentality that her clan has engraved so deeply into her heart, while Kaito thinks he’s still that brooding, dull, aloof kid who used to walk down the hallways of the Association all alone, watched from a distance by all the other magicians.

In this chapter, those behavioral patterns came out completely in the sunlight.

But while Akiho took her own patterns and decided “I don’t want to be this way, I’ve already changed so much because of you and I want to help you in return”, activating a sort of “positive response”, Kaito saw her getting closer and insisted in barricading himself behind that thin wall that he’s built around his heart. 

It’s not by chance that I wanted to make the parallel with the SyaoSaku situation more obvious with the use of the “knocking on the door” metaphor, since that’s really what I felt when I’ve read the chapter.

We have a boy and a girl in love with someone and seeing that loved one in pain. Both kids try to be of help because they can’t stand to see them bearing all the burden alone. 

And that’s when trust comes into the picture.

I am saying trust, and not love, because I do think Kaito loves Akiho (and here I have to specify again that we don’t know what kind of love is, but at the very least he has affection for her).

While Sakura trusts Syaoran to the point of not losing faith in him even when he revealed to be the one who took the Sakura Cards, or even despite all the dreams with MCF Syaoran she’s having, Kaito doesn’t trust Akiho. He cannot trust her. He’s too afraid of what would entail to let Akiho closer than the safe distance they have right now.

There are many reasons for this.

One, the most obvious: he’s about to die. He is going to die and that, in his mind, is a certainty, because he needs to save her before it’s too late, and even if the time rewindings won’t kill him, probably the last taboo magic will.

There’s absolutely no point, in his head, to get closer to her.

Two, actually accepting her offer for help would mean that at some point he would have to explain why he’s so worn out, and all that’s behind it. With that, he would inflict on her a pain even greater than the one he’s living on his skin. He has carefully avoided to let her know *any* thing about the terrible spell that is at work on her, in order to give her a life as normal as possible, and he wouldn’t nullify that for anything in the world.

Three, he’s terribly afraid of human connections. To the point of turning himself blind to the beating and stirring of his heart. He’s still convinced that he doesn’t have a heart, just like when he was in the Association.

But Momo was clear: no matter how strong you are, or what kind of life you live, no one can ever stay the same, if they’re given the trigger to change. And Kaito has already had that, when he decided on that fateful day, “I’ll go”.

He just has to stop refusing to admit it.

It was painful to see him going in circles, in hope to avoid where Momo was getting at in chapter 51, and the saddest thing of it all is that it seems this is an automatic behavior, he seemed genuinely confused when Momo said “You missed something”. “Missed”, past tense.

Akiho is terribly scary to him, when she runs on her assertiveness and starts making questions. This was obviously not the first time and he knows that she’s damn observant when she wants. Everytime Kaito changed expression, everytime something was wrong with him, she always caught on.

Dammit, she loves him, what else is she supposed to do? She can’t turn a blind eye on him. 

But this is all too scary for him, because she demands a connection he’s afraid of. Letting someone inside of you means to see your comfortable, perfect, reassuring bubble getting turned upside down, because in a relationship of any kind, you are two, not one. Each with their own expectations, behaviors, personalities. While he has already changed his lifestyle to adapt to one that would be healthy for Akiho, he isn’t definitely ready (or so he thinks) to change his heart. And that’s why, when Akiho mentions that she has changed parts of her thanks to him, he is definitely triggered and literally runs away, interrupting her attempt to tell him “I’m here for you. Let me in. Tell me what’s wrong”.

He doesn’t want to hear that she changed thanks to him, because that would force him to realize that he’s changed too, thanks to her. And what’s more scary than aknowledging that you’re not the same person anymore, that you already have a seat ready in your heart with her name on it?

His feelings are most apparent in the “stupidest” things, like going all the way to cook character bento only for her (that's definitely, definitely, not a butler’s duty), or let nonchalantly slip “because it’s you” without even realizing what that implies (and making Akiho blush furiously) (talking only manga side here, the anime had one huge display of what he feels and we all know which scene it is).

You can well understand why Momo feels so frustrated with him, when the situation is in plain sight and yet he turns a blind eye on it.

So gaslighting and dismissive, we were saying. That’s his defensive reaction because he actually feels like the one attacked, in that moment.

And when he realizes that lies don’t work, he just panics, and instead of elaborating a better lie, he totally cuts her short and runs away. He could’ve said “Thanks Akiho-san, but I’m fine, really”. But no.

That explains quite well why he was shaking, after that. I know CLAMP have skillfully thrown that symptom among his conditions worsening, as soon as he left Akiho’s room, so everyone thinks he was shaking because he’s in terrible shape, and maybe it’s partly true, but I don’t think he would’ve been surprised, if the trembling was caused by his health. He knows he’s dying. He doesn’t wonder why he has heart attacks, he knows what causes them.

Instead, with this, he’s so confused that he even slightly laughs, like he can’t believe what he’s actually feeling.

This is gonna be a rough journey, for Kaito (and for us), because the more he goes on and the more his time narrows down, the more he seems on the brink of insanity. He needs someone interrupting this slippery slope by force, someone who understands where he is coming from, and understands his biggest problem of turning away his eyes from his heart.

Y’all know who I am talking about, right? :D

[blackjack-15]

Avenge My Twistery Depth — Thoughts on: Trail of the Twister (TOT)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH, DOG, CAR, DDI, SHA, CUR, CLK, TRN, DAN, CRE, ICE, CRY, VEN, HAU, RAN, WAC

Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with links to previous metas.

These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: TOT, WAC, mentions of GTH.

The Intro:

Let’s talk about Trail of the Twister, shall we? No clever intro, no pun, no sassy statement on the quality (whether lacking or overflowing) of the game…let’s just Talk.

Like I said at the beginning of my WAC meta, TOT is one of two games that doesn’t really fit into a category besides it and WAC demonstrating HER’s growing pains. The world opens (kinda), the characters get a little deeper (kinda) and a few new things are tried with plots and character (to varying degrees of success). Both WAC and TOT — but especially TOT — represent a shift in the tone of the games and their approach. You can ascribe this to a lot of reasons — an aging fanbase, technology marching on, a new writer in the mix — but you really can’t ignore it, no matter if you’re a Classic Games Elitist or a Newer Games Snob (or neither one).

To paraphrase a fabulous song, there’s something there that wasn’t there before.

This is not me saying in any way that TOT is a fabulous — or even moderately successful — game. In fact, it whiffs a lot where WAC hit solidly, which makes playing them one after the other a sort of chore; WAC is weighed down by the knowledge of what comes next (after such a brief respite from games like ICE, HAU, and RAN), and TOT’s repetitive chore list seems even bleaker after the snack shop and secret societies of WAC.

Which is truly unfortunate, because hiding behind the rat traps and the car chases (or drives, if you drive like a normal person in this game) and the endless moon chunk offerings is one heck of a story. Unfinished and beleaguered and (to my suspicions) censored as it is, there is a definite, multilayered, morally ambiguous, honest-to-moon-chunk story in TOT.

Like I said, something there that wasn’t there before.

Playing through the games in order, it seems like the reason WAC is so solid is, in part, because the games before it have so little cohesive story as to be laughable. Playing them out of order will show you that though WAC does come off a little better than it actually is due to the games that came before it, it’s also actually a step-up from a lot of games in the complexity of its plot and characters. At this point in the series that’s about to happen a lot, but WAC is the first real instance where you get it. Like I said, these two games mark a tonal and approach-based shift in the games.

So let’s turn our attention to TOT.

There are a lot of things that bog down this game — it feels sometimes as if you’re simply going through Farmville-esque tasks to get from Point A to Point B — but its plot and characters (save in one large instance) aren’t actually the culprits. Surprisingly enough, we have a mystery here with enough twists, turns, small crimes, and red herrings to make for a perfectly serviceable plot with relatively well-developed (for the length of the game) characters (whom I’ll go into more below).

A huge difference from a lot of the games is that we have a prominent unseen character who isn’t the one who hired Nancy or who is part of the historical background. Brooke’s actions actively move the plot along no matter what Nancy does, and I do like that the world of TOT goes on spinning (as it were) without Nancy driving everything.

You get the sense that Nancy truly was just dropped into the middle of this without having any control over the situation, and that she spends the entire game (or most of it) playing catch-up, rather than being on the scene for the crime(s) or arriving shortly thereafter.

In TOT, this sabotage has been going on for a while — the competition is nearly over, in fact — and Nancy has to actually do some detective work to even get caught up, let alone to try to step a few feet in front of the guilty party.

One interesting thing is what TOT and WAC share: they both feature casts who are only a few years off of Nancy’s age; in WAC, they’re a tiny bit younger, while in TOT, they’re a tiny bit older. Nancy, being Nancy, is much more in her element with the ages of her suspects in TOT than she is with high schoolers — with how much time Nancy spends around people significantly older than her, I’d be shocked if she got along well with high schoolers when she was in high school herself.

As a side note, I know it’s sort of a fandom thing that Nancy gets along well with children, but honestly outside of Lucas, it’s not something we really see (no, I’m not counting pelting Freddie with snow 10 times sans mercy as getting along with children) — and honestly Lucas is just charming, so I see no reason why Nancy wouldn’t get along with him. Generally speaking, kids who grow up the way Nancy has [especially as an only child] are far more comfortable with ‘adults’ — well established, 35/40+ adults, who make up the majority of her suspect pools — than they are with peers or children.

There’s also a great deal of care taken with making all the suspects (mostly) equally likely for a large portion of the game; it’s not until past the halfway point that a suspect (Chase) is cleared due to his confession of a different crime, and even then, he doesn’t really become Nancy’s helper, as is the usual case with cleared suspects. This is actually one of the few games where Nancy doesn’t really have a helper; she relies on herself, the Hardy Boys, and (questionably) P. G. Krolmeister to get the job done.

And speaking of the Hardy Boys…you knew an intro wouldn’t be complete without my mentioning them, hush.

The Hardy Boys are arguably the set piece that benefit most from Nik’s writing (and yes, I’m going to ascribe it to him; he’s the most prominent variable). Don’t get me wrong, the Hardy Boys were great before, but the Nik games are where they start attaining a place of more prominence and solidify their distinct personalities other than “focused killjoy and playful scamp”. In this game, you get more of Frank’s protectiveness (directed towards Nancy) and Joe’s actual sleuthing abilities — not the least of which because this game coincides with that DS Masterpiece “Treasure on the Tracks”.

Oh yeah, we’re going there. It’s relevant.

Treasure on the Tracks, as mentioned, was a game for the Nintendo DS (and the only one, mind you) focusing on the Hardy Boys. In the game (as in TOT), they’re tracking down the Romanov treasure with the help of a surprising ally — Samantha Quick herself. Samantha is under orders (from who, she never says, but a future game makes it obvious) to help the boys find the treasure aboard the royal train that the Romanovs used to own.

And yes, I would have loved that to be a joint Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys PC game, but I’ll push the bitterness aside for the facts. Which are that this game has a rad premise and would have been a very cool addition to the ND series…but I digress. Regardless, that’s what the boys are doing during TOT, so we get little hints to their investigation as well as having them help Nancy out.

I love that the Hardy Boys have an actual mystery that they’re investigating, as beginning with this game we see a lot more of their ‘agent’ side being brought out. It’s nice to feel that Nancy isn’t alone out there fighting against the forces of evil, and gives excuses to have the Hardy Boys in the games more, so I’m a big fan in general. It also helps build them up as investigators; while they offer hints to Nancy a lot, we don’t get to see them doing a lot of spy/detective work, and it’s lovely to be able to see it here.

And I love their sibling banter. It’s obvious that JVS and Rob Jones have a lot of fun with their roles, and it really lightens and enhances any Nancy Drew game that they’re in.

The last interesting thing that I’ll point out before diving into the game itself is what TOT does for the world of Nancy Drew. Beginning with this game, we start the tradition of each game leading directly into the next one; for her help in TOT, Krolmeister sends her to his favorite ryokan in Japan, which leads to her being hired for CAP; her absence and fight with Ned in CAP lead her back home for the Clues Challenge in ASH, and so on and so forth.

It really makes the world feel solid and cohesive, and lets our characters grow and shift and change without making it feel episodic or sudden. The Nancy of SPY is quite different from the Nancy of TOT in how she behaves and tackles mysteries, but her character growth throughout the games in between make it feel right and natural — like actual character growth.

The Title:

As a title, “Trail of the Twister” isn’t bad — it’s got that alliteration that ND books tend to like doing, and makes it feel a little classic. It also gets a play with words in there — you’re tracing the actual trail of the actual twister, and you’re also walking through the evidence left behind (aka a trail) of a twisting plot. Solid, if not exceptional, with its only real detriment being the hilarious acronym (TOT).

The book it’s (loosely) based off of is called “The Mystery of Tornado Alley” which, obvious to anyone with eyes, is a much worse title while telling us the same thing. It also doesn’t apply to the game as much – you’re not figuring out a mystery as much as unwinding the tangled threads of character motivations — and is supremely clunky to boot.

The Mystery:

Called in by P.G. Krolmeister to go undercover, Nancy joins a team of storm-chasers bent on winning a grant for their research — and beating the opposing team that wants the same thing. Nancy begins the mystery by finding a tin box full of cash (payment for an as-of-yet unspecified action) and it spirals from there, putting the not-so-amateur teen sleuth through her paces learning about tornados and storms, taking pictures, and trying her best to keep everyone happy and working towards the money.

It’s not as easy as it sounds, however. There are competing forces at work outside (and sometimes within) the two teams, and the personalities of the storm-chasers that Nancy must investigate mean that no one trusts anyone else. Things continue to go wrong and Nancy chases down the clues until the mother of all tornados hits town, and our culprit takes advantage of the distraction…

I mentioned above some censorship that I suspect went on in this game, and I’ll talk about it here. Given the darker themes of this game and the mentions of death and serious injury (more than most other games in the series at this point), I would say part of the reason why our story is a little more…displeasing, especially by the end, is that HER was really intent on the 10 part of the 10+ rating.

There’s lots to explore — the Ma storyline that goes nowhere, the collateral damage of these tornadoes, the fact that our cast is filled with genuinely unpleasant criminals — and yet it gets glanced over while feeling like the game is building up to it. Like CRE and ICE where I postulated a lot of the attention went to the new engine, I’m going to postulate here that the reason why we have hanging plot threads and injustice at the end (which I’ll talk about later) is that the game was censored by the HER bigwigs to ensure it still fit in a 10+ rating.

As a mystery, like I said above, there’s absolutely nothing wrong here. We’ve got plenty of means/motive/opportunity spread out in our cast (and in the periphery cast, just to keep things interesting), the threads and smaller crimes/wrongdoings/etc. are realistic in scope and in motive to keep them hidden, and it’s the personalities of the suspects that give us our conflict and tension, rather than random “interferences” by the writers. And speaking of our suspects, let’s go to the other area that TOT does (almost) nothing wrong.

The Suspects:

First off is Chase Releford, a junior who took Scott’s class for a science credit who got super interested in the actual work. The team’s handyman, Chase has noticed (and fixed, and fixed again) the equipment acting up, and is being stretched pretty thin in order to keep it all shipshape and in working order.

He’s also one of Nancy’s sources of Pa Pennies, if you wanna spend hours doing circuit boards.

As a culprit, Chase is a great option (which is a sentiment you’ll hear repeated for all of our suspects, never fear). He’s secretly spending his time looking for oil with Pa’s divining rods, which puts two crimes on his conscience (stealing the rods and not working on company time) and helps the team fall even further behind. It’s important to note that for a large chunk of this game, the likelihood of the suspect also hinges on how much they want Scott to fail, and Chase is pretty much the only one without any real anger towards Scott.

The owner of the local general store, Pa Ochs might be a surprising option to put ahead of Chase in order of culprit likelihood/suitability, but I stand by it. Having lost his wife (Betsy “Ma” Ochs) to a tornado (the warning sirens, which were Scott’s responsibility, didn’t go off), Pa alone mans the counter, helping Nancy find everything she needs — for a price, of course.

The price being annoyingly hard to get Pa Pennies. Unless you exploit a glitch.

Here’s where we start with the culprit possibilities that have an actual grudge against Scott. Though not as angry as he could be, Pa is deeply hurt by the loss of his wife Betsy, and has grounds for an axe to grind with Scott. As much as I would have loved to have the ‘friendly general store owner’ be the culprit, it would have been like a mix of DOG’s Emily and FIN’s Joseph (minus the Crazy), and it’s (sadly) best to leave that ground alone without re-treading it.

Frosty Harlow is next up; a second-year grad student in digital media, Frosty got his nickname (his real name is Tobias) from his storm photography and is, well, trying to re-capture that lightning in a bottle.

He also screams like a little girl. So that’s fun.

Like Chase and Pa, Frosty is a wonderful option for a culprit. His crime is selling university property (the video of the storm he and Nancy shot) to an aspiring photographer (who happens to be on the rival team) to help them get a toehold into the business, along with working with Debbie to try to stress Scott into quitting.

What really makes Frosty stand out is that, unlike Chase, Frosty doesn’t feel bad about what he did at all. He also holds far more animosity towards Scott than Pa does, and has a little more…innate anger as a person.

If you haven’t noticed by now, we’re going in order of “worst” culprit option to “best” (and then the actual culprit), and it really says something about how fleshed out these characters already are that we start with people who are solid options to begin with.

Though only appearing vocally and for a few minutes total of the game’s runtime, I’m going to list Brooke Tavanah as our next most likely culprit — in part because, well, she kind of is our culprit. The leader of the rival storm-chasing team, Brooke offered Scott money to sabotage his own team to let her team win the grant — an offer that he takes her up on.

Of course, Brooke isn’t the only one sleeping with the enemy (so to speak) to ensure her team’s victory; her videographer, Erin, is apparently so talentless as to need to buy footage from Scott’s team as well.

Things don’t exactly look great for the Kingston University team — as they can’t really get ahead even through sabotage and skullduggery, and one does wonder if they’d even be able to put the grant to good use. That, of course, is not the point; Brooke wants her team to win, come hell or high…wind…and a little thing like scientific ability isn’t going to stop her.

(Interestingly enough, this is the first of three times we’ll see Kingston University pop up; we meet their alumni again in TMB and DED).

I love that Brooke is guilty, because so often in Nancy Drew games the tendency is to implicate an unseen character and then to have that implication be a poorly done red herring. Instead, Brooke isn’t a distraction, nor a smoke screen — she’s just another piece of the puzzle.

Our last non-Culprit (by the games’ common definition) suspect is Debbie Kircum, a recent PhD graduate who is on her fifth time working with Scott in chase season, and who has gotten a lucrative offer to teach at a university in New York.

Worrying that Scott would let his resentment towards the college hurt their chances in the competition, Debbie leads the conspiracy to stress him out so much that he just quits. I’ll talk more about this later, but it is both one of my favorite and least favorite things about this game. For now, I’ll say that her plan works…but not the way that she planned; for her and lots of other suspects in this and upcoming games, the quote “the price for getting what you want is getting what you once wanted” works perfectly to describe their arcs.

As a culprit, (as Debbie fully qualifies as a culprit), Debbie certainly has the shortsightedness and nastiness that Nancy Drew culprits tend to have. She’s extremely good at getting what she wants…but see the quote in the previous paragraph.

She also over-contours her cheeks so much that it looks like someone slapped her with an open compact of bronzer.

That takes us to our final culprit and character, Scott Varnell, genius professor of meteorology and the leader of the Canute team. Scott is my personal favorite character not just because he’s the most interesting, but because he’s a tragic figure who isn’t historical/dead, and those are a bit of a rarity in Nancy Drew games, especially at this point.

Being an expert on tornadoes yet denied tenure based on his personality, rather than his academic prowess (a gripe I share as it applies to jobs/academia), Scott holds a grudge against those who don’t recognize his contributions to meteorology and to the study of tornadoes specifically. Unbeknownst to him, two members of his four-man team have been conspiring to stress him out so badly that he’ll just quit, as they think he’ll be a hindrance (again, due to his personality) in winning the competition.

Scott is in some ways the obvious option, and yet the game never turns into a howdunnit. Throughout the mystery he tends to be the prime suspect, but is also the prime victim — a dichotomy we’ve never seen before in the Nancy Drew Games. I’ll talk more about Scott below (a sentence increasingly common in this meta), but I both love and hate him as the culprit, and that’s something new (and interesting) that TOT brings as well.

The Favorite:

Don’t worry, we’ll get into TOT’s myriad flaws soon enough, but for now I want to focus on what it does right.

The first thing the game nails is the Hardy Boys. Their inclusion, their plot, their characterization, the voice acting — all of it is nigh-flawless, and is by far the most enjoyable part of the game. Don’t get me wrong, the Hardy Boys are usually quite far up there on the list of things I love about a game with them in it, but they really start to shine more in TOT, gaining some character development, plot relevance, and just overall depth.

Oddly (or perhaps not oddly at all) I don’t have a favorite moment nor a favorite puzzle in this game; barring that, I’ll talk about some of the great threads to the game, rather than any particular moment/puzzle that stands out.

I love that we get new and interesting layers to our story and characters. As I mentioned briefly above, there’s a real sense of the world existing before Nancy’s arrival, which works wonders for the world of the games, and our characters here are more layered, more distinct, and more ‘realistic’ (for the value of ‘realism’ in stories) than they ever have been before.

This is a game unafraid to deal with the topics of death and mistakes, and that accounts for part of the depth to the game as well. No, not the whole “Where’s Ma” thing — which I fully believe to just be a script that didn’t fire/didn’t stop firing in the game’s code after finding the newspaper that says exactly what happened to Ma — I’m talking about Scott’s mistake in the tornado warning system, Debbie and Frosty’s mistakes in dealing with Scott (which I’ll talk more about), and even Brooke’s miscalculations that lead to the ending of the game. Everyone here deals with the fallout of their mistakes, and it’s how they handle it that forms the basis for our plot.

It’s a seemingly small thing, but I love the sheer level of detail in this game. You can click on everything, read everything, explore everywhere — there’s a lot of information crammed into the game that sometimes you won’t get until the second or third replay (that is, if you have the stomach to play through this game repeatedly).

The use of our tertiary NPCs (Brooke, Krolmeister, Erin) is also inspired; they help the world feel whole and varied rather than existing simply for the benefit of the game, and show that Nancy doesn’t have control over everything when she’s investigating — and that she can be wrong in her focus of investigating (whether because she pays too much or not enough attention to the ‘minor’ characters).

Speaking of characters, I also love that our characters in this game – our suspects — are able to be fully formed without (on purpose, I feel) being particularly likable. It’s always fun to get a cast of characters that are hostile to Nancy, but TOT’s characters are slightly different from that: they just don’t care about her. She’s another intern to them, nigh-invisible except when they need a chore done. Nancy also doesn’t really try to befriend anyone because of it, and I like that too. Sometimes, a game should just be 1 vs 4, with some backup in the wings courtesy of phone friends.

The last facet of the game that I love is Scott himself as a character. Sure he’s cantankerous, blunt, egotistical, and a thousand other things, but the game is very clear that these ‘faults’ don’t make him anything other than what he is — a brilliant meteorologist and the foremost mind when it comes to tornadoes and tornadogenesis. The university undervalues him, but the team really can’t function without him, sabotage or no sabotage.

His motive for the sabotage isn’t the money nor fame — it’s simple tit-for-tat. For such a complex game (note, I’m still not saying it’s a fun or good game), our ultimate motive is deceptively simple: do unto others what they have done unto you. Tired of being devalued and having his worth judged on his personality rather than his work, he decides that if the university doesn’t care enough to keep him around (and for his worth as a professor, look at how accomplished and passionate his team of former students is), then they don’t care to keep up their program either.

It’s hard not to sympathize with that, especially if you’re the kind of person who’s been valued based on any defects in your personality — rather than your ability to do a job and do it well — and been found wanting. Whether you’re too serious (or not serious enough), too flighty (or too inflexible), or any other stupid “personality defect” that the workforce loves to throw around, we’ve all heard it before. Scott’s thrown into an unfair situation and — wrongly or not — decides that his troubles are going to have trouble with him.

The last thing I’ll add on the topic of Scott for this section is that I do love that Debbie and Frosty create their own villain. In figuring that Scott’s personality is going to prevent them from getting the grant (never mind the 4 other years that Debbie’s been on this team with him where it hasn’t been a problem), they decide to screw him over presumptively — and thus create a Scott who actually does want to prevent them from getting the grant. It’s usually a mark of a solid story (and solid writing in general) where the villain is created not from some problem inherent in them, but because they’re perceived to be a problem in the future — and thus live down to the expectation.

The Un-Favorite:

The problem with everything TOT does right — and that’s nearly a thousand words about what it does right above — is that it never combines to make a game that’s enjoyable to play. Before I go into the specifics, I do want to make that clear; TOT is a fascinating game to think and write about, but it’s honestly nigh-unplayable. The puzzles and chores are laborious (and repeated ad nauseum), pieces of the plot don’t make sense, and the ending is the bleakest in the series until GTH’s multiple endings took the cake.

A game should be well-written, complex, and interesting, but it just has to be fun to play as well. It has to. And that seems to have been forgotten during the course of making TOT. My least favorite moment is the ending of the game (more on that below), but I don’t have a least favorite puzzle — on the basis that most of the puzzles are equally bad. There’s no real standout…but that’s not a good thing.

Now let’s get into some of the bits and parts of the game that I really despise.

The handling of Scott is one of my favorite parts of the game, but it’s also my least favorite part of the game as well. They’ve set up a character who firmly believes that everything ends poorly, that he’ll never profit no matter what, and that, ultimately, no matter how hard he tries, nothing will go the way it should. And then the game confirms that worldview to the end. There’s no other option; no matter what Scott does or doesn’t do, no matter if he tries his best or blows it off, the end result is the same, and that’s a tragedy. Sure, you can argue it’s his actions that led him to a bad ending, but he only took those actions because he was heading to a bad ending anyway.

The feeling you get at the end of the game isn’t a feeling of justice served, nor success — it’s pity in a way that’s never been cultivated for any criminal up to this point in the series. And it’s not cathartic — it’s just more misery.

The other huge thing that I hate about this game ties into it — there really is no justice. The supposed ‘happy ending’ is Debbie getting people from both teams to ‘win’ the grant (where does it ultimately go — Canute or Kingston? Can it count as winning if there’s only one team? HER certainly didn’t bother to think about these things)…but Debbie’s hands are just as filthy — and I think more so — than Scott’s are.

Debbie leads Frosty in conspiring to make Scott quit and actually created their own monster — does she even know Scott at all? He’s lead a team through at least the last 4 years, probably more, and not had a problem; why now? Power? Greed? Pride? Whichever way you spin it, she and Frosty are guilty.

Frosty and Erin (of the Kingston Team) are also guilty on a separate charge; Erin for buying the footage and Frosty for selling it. If Brooke and Scott are kicked off, Frosty and Erin (at least) should also go for the same conspiracy charge. Everyone on the team (excepting possibly Chase) knowingly sabotaged their team; why is Scott the only one punished? Why does Debbie (and Frosty, and Erin) get off scot-free (pun intended) to win the prize, despite everything?

When I say that there’s no justice nor success here, this is what I mean. The whole thing stinks from top to bottom, and any way you look at it, a culprit walks.

Honestly, the ending should have just been “Chase, guilty only of petty theft, led the team (of himself and Pa) and was given the grant, which they donated to a charity for tornado victims”. Kingston actively cheated and Canute doesn’t deserve it either. In a game where everyone deserves to lose, declaring a winner just leaves a bad taste in my mouth — and a black mark on the game.

The Fix:

So how would I fix Trail of the Twister?

My feeling is that if you’re going to go with a downer ending — which TOT is — then go for a full one. Have Nancy discover everyone’s crimes — and I do mean everyone’s — and report to Krolmeister, asking what he wants her to do. Don’t forget, Nancy’s got an actual client in this game, and can’t go off half-cocked like she tends to in her more informal mysteries.

In the end, as nearly everyone would be disqualified, the competition should go to a third party — a storm chasing team that’s not Kingston nor Canute — and create chances for less corrupt institutions to study tornadoes at a level they haven’t been able to before. Sure, our suspects would lose, but, honestly, outside Chase…does anyone deserve to win?

I’d also be a fan of Scott getting a second chance due to outside sabotage (directed solely at him) with a job opportunity to consult for storm chasers. It’d be an arena where he’d be seen as the expert he is, without having to deal with the namby-pamby bureaucracy that infects universities (and that he hates anyway). He’d get the name recognition and the ability to actually do work in his field that he needs without being put in situations where he can’t help but fail. Honestly, I’d prefer that P. G. Krolmeister offered it (while saying he’s going to be keeping an eye on him), but really anything would do.

Exposing the crimes of everyone – and focusing on more than just Scott’s — would be the quickest way to improve the story of the game. The puzzles, on the other hand, need to be completely redone; a mix of ostensibly tornado-related intern-type chores (like the circuit boards) and more detective-type puzzles (fingerprinting suspects for a match on the tin bribe box, tracking everyone’s movements, solving codes used for communication) would be a big help in making TOT not just feel like a list of chores with a bad ending.

Oh, and fix the broken code leading Nancy to ask about a man’s dead wife over and over again. She lacks tact as it is.

[writingsofmyimagination]

Instinct |6|

Levi x Reader

Summary: An unwelcome(ish) blast from the Captain’s trainee days comes back to the Scouting Regiment and old habits die hard.

Instinct: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

So I decided to carry on with the series. Bit of a time jump... now around Chapter 72 time :)

tags: @nefelimalfoy​ @beautifulimperfections13​ @pjimochi​ @submissive-bangtan​

Enjoy :)

Words:3232

Warnings: Swearing (Obvs), Smut, Smut -Pretty Sub Levi…..Like Oooof!

“Sooo, how did it go with Erwin, I assume you tried again to convince him to stay” Levi and you merged to walk the same direction in the dusty courtyard. Green cape briskly swept over your shoulder as the wind nipped at your forearms; little pin pricks of cold. The temperature measured equally in Levi’s dark face; hair half drooped over his forehead. The orange hue from all the lamps casting a shadow covering a scowl which quickly came into view.

“That good huh?” you added, trying to coax blood out of a stone.

“Those two brats just don’t stop” The stone completing dodging the question.

Oh

“Again!?” Eyes rolling.

“You should just let them go for it; they’d tire themselves out eventually”

“Ugh… if I didn’t need to make sure his energy was fully preserved for tomorrow I would” Levi unburdened you of the large unopened bottle of vodka from under your arm.

“Corporal YL/N” Erwin called as he added another walking body to the courtyard.

“I’ll catch up” You offered Levi as he’d already turned his back to you and walked off. The trio of Mikasa, Eren and Armin bundled out of the canteen hall in a cheery ball of jest.

“Hey suicidal maniac!” Jean called propping the canteen door open with his foot, hand gripped around a green survey corp jacket.

“You forgot this” Jacket launched quicker than Eren could react. You rushed over before Eren had finished screaming ��You little…’. Your fist tight around Eren’s. You twisted his arm manipulating him to the ground before he could strike.

“Aaah” Eren wailed as he picked himself up from the dirt.

“Jean, extra clean up duty” His face shadowed with annoyance; Eren’s on the other hand brightened.

“Eren after this mission cleaning duty with Levi wherever he chooses”. It was now Eren’s turn for his face to drop and Jean’s to brighten in a balanced 360.

“Yes Corporal” They both mumbled heads down. Jean disappeared back to the canteen and Eren slumped down on the steps next to Mikasa and Armin.

“Sorry Commander” Returning to where you were called.

“It’s quite alright, ready for tomorrow?”

“As ready as you can be” Your response was still yet polite.

“Oh come on Y/N, I know your pumped, no need to be restrained for me. Anyway, I just wanted to assure you that I will be commanding tomorrows mission Despite the chattering going through the core at present”

“Sir, honestly,  I wouldn’t expect anything less, this is your dream too”

“Levi tried to convince me otherwise, to his failure of course”

“He did mention it, mostly in the form of him being quieter and slightly grumpier than normal”

A slight knowing smile crept minutely onto Erwin’s lips.

“I thought as much, anyway, enjoy your night. I assume the bottle Levi stropped off with was for you”

“Most definitely more for me. Good night commander. Rest well”.

The trio were still sat perched on the steps. Armin, the forever motivator of life beyond the walls exciting the others. The glimmer of hope sprinkled on their expressions light bright fairy dust a refreshing view. Even on Mikasa it was a sight to behold.

Entering the archway something black and still in the corner drew your attention. Head dropped down, his sullen gaze lightened, a few creases less on his face when the confusion struck yours.

“Didn’t know earwigging was your thing” You said, quieter to not alert the three kids. Levi shuffled himself off the floor and vigorously brushed himself down, slight creases grew in his forehead at checking his hands. He gave one more rushed wipe down before you both made your way to his office

“I wasn’t earwigging… I was listening to the brats be hopeful and dream about the future” There was slight distaste scattered through his words.

“Sooooo earwigging…. And is that a bad thing?” The over-dramatic roll of his eyes was heard like a sassy echo in the bare office he liked to squirrel away in.

All that was scattered on the wooden table to the back of the room was a few sheets of paper with diagrams, drawing, indecipherable scribbles that only Levi could understand.

He slumped himself down onto the armed wooden chair, scowl still present staring blankly down at the desk.

Jeez he really is in a grump.

“Okay captain scowl!” You began.

“Erwin needs this, I’m sure he is more than aware that this could potentially be his last mission. He’s not the type to sit back the same way you aren’t” Your arms now folded, strength firm in your stance.

“But his loss would be detrimental to humanity, guy is a damn genius”

“Yeessss he’s a genius, will it be a huge hit, course it will, but he wouldn’t be going if he knew that the Corps wouldn’t be in good hands if something were to happen” He shuffled the papers into a somewhat neater pile and placed them meticulously down in the centre of the table.

“I suppose your right” He conceded twiddling a pencil through his fingers.

“Aren’t I always?” Whisky frosting half of the small tumbler a golden brown which soon disappeared when the glass touched your lips.

“Now....” hanging onto the word diffusing into something much more sultry

You waltzed over to his desk, fingers already teasing undone the buttons of your blouse.

“Can you please stop thinking about work, it’s going to be a challenging day tomorrow as it is” you pleaded leaning against his desk facing him. The final button undone, sight teasing him away from his concentration. Holding the sides of the shirt like curtains to a happier Levi.

“Understatement” He mumbled, his finger finding its way through a belt loop, corner of his lips turning up to a wicked smirk, just how you like them.

“It’s also an understatement that you’re such a tease” he added, the shimmering glaze of mischief reflecting in his eyes coaxed a raised eyebrow with the victorious tinge of your lips.

“Oh Soo I am tempting you then?” his leg now in between yours, his hand resting on your sides

“Perhaps” He tugged at your bra with strong determined hands freeing your breast for his teeth to lightly toy with. Your only was response to hum in approval.

“LEEEVVIIII!” A high wailed cry barely muffled by the dark wooden door.

“Shit!” the pair of you breathed unanimously. You didn’t have any time to fix any of your clothing predicament before the door crashed open and Hanje burst in. To her you were just lent up against Levi’s desk with your arms folder; Levi remained in the chair stoic as ever.

Don’t come round!, don’t come round!

Panicked thoughts spun through your mind like a pin wheel.

“What do you want Hanje?” Annoyance slipping over Levi’s voice coating of distaste thoroughly embedded through it.

“I just wanted to let you know everything is ready for tomorrow”

That’s oddly calm considering her entrance.

Hanje looked mildy uncomfortable, her cheeks were slightly puffed, eyes were wide and flitty. Thankfully she’d not move from where she stopped on the right side of the desk.

You and Levi both waited a beat

“AREN’T YOU BOTH SOOO EXCITED!” She finally burst, her body fully exploding with movement. High pitched; almost intolerable. Levi’s eyes rolled. Obviously.

There we go.

“We’re going to THE BASEMENT!” she continued, her hyped up voice became distant as it was drowned out by the concentration of your fingers being sly in trying to do your buttons up. Levi thankfully battered no eyelids at your miniscule movements. Your shoulders dropped, reveal crisis averted.

“I’m aware” Levi droned

“Is Levi not too much of a damn stone to be spending all this time with? If I didn’t know Levi had such a small capacity for emotions, I’d say you two are a thing”

Hilarious. He may not have the massive heart…

“Can you actually imagine?” You laughed competing with her hysterics.

“Jesus Christ Ladies!” Levi complained tutting.

“I’m sorry Levi” Hanje managed still trying to control her laughter turning and leaving humming way too loudly on her exit.

“Can you not encourage that damn woman” He whined, stood out of his chair encroaching on your personal space, stealing a hard kiss from you.

“I thing you’ll find I’m helping our cover.” The two of you quickly became absorbed into each other again. As cold as he could be, his body never failed to be the warmth pressed against you that you needed.

“I think you’re a pain in my ass” he quipped back.

A pain in his ass he couldn’t let go of

“If you take me upstairs, I will be” You tested. His smirk against your lips was matched, pupils growing pools of craving.

Door clicked shut on the rest of the world, his shirt racing to the floor before you could tussle the buttons of your own shirt back open. The back of your legs hitting the rough surface of the table, the contact not disrupting the soft pressure of his lips dancing with yours; his bottom lip catching numerous times between the gentle tug of your teeth. The harsh pillows didn’t linger on your lips for long. The nips at your neck quickly ached with desperation, impatience crying through the hands fumbling at your trouser buttons. Your trousers pooled at the floor; strong grip at your waist encouraging you half onto the table. You placed a stern hand on his chest in halt.

“What’s wrong?” He breathed through staggered breathes. You answered with movement grabbing the towel from the dresser and coating the table.

“I’m not getting splinters for you. On your knees” You ordered sliding up onto the table after slipping of your underwear in a seductive swoop. Levi on his knees focused glistened eyes zoning on your every small movement. His glare ran ablaze with your foot firm on his shoulder, drinking in the view of soft pale skin. The thighs he knew looked so pretty with blossoming red flower bruises. The way he loved to make them quiver; you whimpering his name.

“Always so patient” you praised. His insides were clenched, teetering on the edge of desperation. Dying for your call. He swallowed hard, with the insatiable thirst had ravaging over him. This may have combusted when your hand dipped between your own thighs. Humanities strongest kneeling desperate on the floor beneath you trying to harness all the will to stay put.

“Tell me what you want” you offered your hand, foot sliding of his shoulder.  His mouth enveloped round the wetness of your fingers; a deep hum vibrated through his throat.

Your legs now parted with him snug in-between. He was making you wait for his answer.

“Well?” He stilled for a moment completely faking to ponder. Hands ghosting up your lower leg, your soft skin only imploring him higher. Your index finger stroking come hither under his chin

“Mmm” The pair of you mumbled, white knuckles gripped his shoulders. Even with your lips pressed together you could feel the wicked way the edges of his lips curled upwards.

“This” he managed, drowning out your whine. Already feeling the controlled digits inside pressing to your walls.

“Be more specific or you get nothing” pleasant strain and held back whines hidden terribly in your voice.

“Ugh” Levi complained.

“Did you roll your eyes at me?”

“On the chair!”. Your tone snapper quicker than a whip.

“You can’t tell me what you want, then I’m just going to keep giving until I’m finished with you”

“Hands behind your back until I say otherwise” you added, hands prying his thighs wider.

“Eyes on me baby” He tried not to blink. Forcing himself to look down, refusing his eyes to roll upward as you’d dropped to your knees. Tongue licking a slow stripe on the underside of his member. His bottom lip catching between his teeth. He could only enjoy the sweet warmth of your mouth for a few blissful moments before his bottom lip puffed out in hardcore sulk mode. You turned from him, sweeping your hair to the front of your shoulder carefully balancing your weight as you lowered yourself onto him; not how he’d like. You’d sat on his lap purposely avoiding him. Your hips circled, your head back resting the side of his neck, his low whines now right at the shell of your ear.

“Oh did you think I’d give it up that easy?”

“Don’t think so ….”

You thumb teased over the tip of his cock before honing your attention to focus on the movement of your hips”

“Please” He whined

“I’ve hardly done anything” You toyed. Knowing full well it didn’t matter; not with the fact the pair of you had had little time over the last week or so. It was all just too easy to get to him.

“Mmm…no. You can sit there and feel me.”

Frustration began seething though his controlled breaths, hips trying to match your movements under your weight. Your skin was heating up, but yet you could almost shiver with how sparked your nerve endings were. His lips stuttering soundlessly

“Something you wanna say?”

“Please just cum on me…”

//

Pale milky wax in droplets solidified on his chest. Each one earned a hiss past his lips with the occasional curse chucked into the air for measure. Moisture gathered where his hair met his skin and shone in the flickering candlelight

Small red flower patches blossomed so prettily when the wax dropped of his skin. Your lips followed the beautiful field to the buds on his chest. His desperate groan elicited at the grip of your teeth his hips couldn’t help but buck up into you.

“Levi…Fuck!” Finally allowing yourself to sink down onto him, exasperated pants omitted by both of you in solace.

“Please let me have you now, I need yooou” Your hands still at his chest, hips circling at a painful pace. Torturous eyes hand in hand with the unforgiving smirk beaming.

“But I love it when you’re so desperate, you’ll be begging me to stop when you’re too sensitive”

“How many times can you cum before you can’t take it anymore?” Levi had a damn near ridiculous refractory period, in addition to his extraordinary strength and healing speed. You loved it and saw it as a fun challenge to push it.

//

“Had enough? More?” You asked the writhing body under you, smirk still strong on your face. Moans choked in his throat. His stomach drizzled with himself, the rest of him you wiped away from around your lips. The veins in his neck jumping as he turned to you, his chest rising and falling in steadying moves. The unmistakeable moisture filled eyes, water gathering at the corners in frustrated droplets. His muscles quivering under your touch, so flooded with sensitivity.

“You” he whined, voice becoming dryer and crying with desperation with each passing breathe.

“Oh you think you can go one more with me?” You’d allowed yourself very little. Your walls were throbbing against nothing. The tension that had filled your muscles the tightly wound fibres needed an outlet.

The exhausted body beneath you moved with a sudden refilled confidence and stability knocking you back. Your hands locked behind his neck; you were half sat up and supported through his hand at your lower back. A fresh accelerated fire fight raging behind the dark orbs of his eyes, you’d pushed him, he’d had enough. Your cry had the hint of a giggle finally having him inside you, cheeky smile under your bit lip.

“Stop being a tortuous brat, ride me, make yourself cum around me or swear to god”

“Swear to god what?” you challenged clenching around him. His response; hissing with regret. Over-sensitivity pained in his features; brows knitted together as yours widened with your smile.

“Mmm” the pained hum melted right in your ear. Melted chocolate dripping of a soft pink marshmallow. Unwavering stable hand still solid supporting you. Your weight cradled into him, fingertips digging into his shoulder blades. Finally allowing your hips to spiral, unwinding all the patience you’ve exercised. Currents of heated heavy breaths washed across your chest. He ceased to challenge with any more words. Chest pushed against his; heat gathering in moist droplets between you.

You stole as many messy kisses in-between your moans and whines as you could; Levi had resorted to mostly grunts, his hips movements becoming staggered, each thrust becoming harder but seemingly more exhaustive. You shifted your weight forward. You’d felt his muscles begin to shake.  Levi was now on his back hair falling against the pillow as beautiful black spikes.

“God you feel so good” You whined rolling your hips. Hands planted cupped around his thighs, gripping hard nails leaving crescents in the muscled flesh. With your back arched, chest bare and vulnerable to the dragged out firm knead of Levi’s hands. His arms dropped to cradle your hips slowing them down.

“Too much for you baby?” You cooed sliding your hands to his chest, one creeping further to sit at his throat.

“Mmmhm…Don’t ……” He warned. You were never going heed his warning; you tightened your grip disobeying the pressure at your hips and rocking him freefalling off that cliff. His head rolled back harsh against the mattress. The intoxicating chimera of blissful pain bled into relief. Hearing the beautiful stuttering sounds and pants of Levi falling apart had you equally calling out his name with jaggged breaths.

//

You were gently coaxed out of sleep by floating plump kisses at your shoulders, a wandering breeze of his hand cloaking round your waist.

“Why does time go so fast” you mumbled, shifting onto your back. The cotton sheets were fresh against your exposed chest, cooled by the crisp air flowing in through the open window. High positive chirps from the birds living un-unbeknown to the burdens of the day ahead.

“Wait how come you’re not up and dressed and kicking me out of bed earlier than necessary?” The pleasant surprise had you smiling more sweetly than you’d like him to see and you felt more peace than you’d normally allow yourself.

The peace went to full blown serenity like a spring morning trickling stream when his lips half turned up followed by a soft chuckle oozing with acknowledgement.

“Jeez you moan when I up and leave and moan when I stay, am I ever going to get a break with you?” Levi huffed way to animatedly to suit him; he kicked off the sheets and went to lug himself out of the bed. You tugged him back towards you just off balance to get him on his back to secure your thighs at his hips.

“Do you honestly wanna break from this?”  Flicking your hair up in your grip allowing it to trickle loosely out of your hand. You fought his weight trying to push you off, which when he actually re-calibrated his balance he managed. One hand weakly holding your wrists together above your head. You were met with silence and a smirk worthy of the first ring of hell. He bounced off and slid his white shirt on. Neither of you spoke again until you dragged yourself to the bathroom.

“Annoyingly even when you act a brat I still can’t stay away. I’d would be weird without you now”

“Exactly”

Wait what?

[radley-writes]

this is a friendly neighborhood WIP anon! who's your favorite oc from all your current wips?

First off - this is so sweet! This hit on a day where I really wanna ramble about my WIPs, rather than... actually... writing them...... so YOU HAVE ENABLED ME MOST WONDROUSLY

1) STRICTLY NO HEROICS

God this is THE HARDEST one to answer. Riley’s spunky and snarky and oh-so-good at using humour to hide genuine pain. But as Sherman is based on my 17-year-old self’s fantasy badass girlfriend, I, uh, gotta give her the crown. A classic Jerk With A Heart of Gold, she might come over as grouchy and rude, but she cares so much for the people around her!

Honorable mention for the Captain, a middle-aged henchman who cleans up after Supervillains on a daily basis and is just... so very done with life.

2) DRESSAGE DRAGONS

NEVE. Pandora held the torch for a while - she’s such a fascinating character, and I really enjoyed exploring how she interweaves anxieties and privilege! But Neve wins on account of being an older, buff, tattooed butch firefighter in a polycule! I.e., directly tailored to my interests. Because I’m shameless. 

Charlie Darling starts off with a very overt crush on her, but (as all adults should, when receiving amorous overtures from 17-year-olds) Neve firmly plants Charlie in the ‘little sibling’ box and refuses to let them crawl out. She looks kinda tough, but she has huge Mom Friend energy. Especially when dealing with a pair of idiot kids who are trying to teach massive, fire-breathing carnivores to dance.

3) HIS MAJESTY’S STARSHIP

I gotta go with Kitty, because she’s such a delight to write. She’s just... constantly waggling her eyebrows in the back of my head. I love her. A desperate dying flirt who just wants to use her last year on earth (or off it) to BONE.

4) VOLT

Buck is an eight-foot-five herbo??? Nuff said. 

She’s a bit abrasive, a lot of a brat, and loyal to a fault. Only that might be a big fault, when you’re starting to suspect you’re loyal to the wrong person. Dark past; cares too much; struggles to let go. She’s one of my most complex characters - which is interesting, as on the surface she reads as a typical dumb bruiser. And - yeah, she’s absolutely that. But she’s got LAYERS, and her gnarly, not-very-healthy, problematique relationship with Vash (sort-of girl/boyfriend) and Zeebe (sort-of daughter) really appeals to me as a writer! Damn I miss writing Adult books 

5) KROW DYNASTY

Wulfgaard is (you guessed it) another herbo... Looks really intimidating, actually shy to the point where it’s a major detriment to her life. Huge, scar-faced warrior woman, with huger social anxiety. She flusters easily and gets so tongue-tied (especially around pretty ladies) that she mostly just... doesn’t say anything at all. Which, given she’s the queen’s executioner and has a bad case of resting murder-face, has earned her a reputation for being an absolute monster. Really, she just wants friends! Please, somebody, hug her.

Thank youuuuu for the ask

[wickedmilo]

ASK ME ANYTHING | MILO & HARSH

PLACE: Harsh’s apartment TIMING: A couple of months before ‘Sweet Summer Child’ SUMMARY: Milo begrudgingly accepts the fact that if you don’t know, sometimes you just have to ask WRITING PARTNER: @notsoharsh CONTENT WARNINGS: Mentions of overdosing, needles, and drug abuse

Milo stared down at his notebook, his hasty, and cluttered handwriting making it difficult to spot any spelling mistakes or inconsistencies. Not that it would matter, really. He had no plan on actually letting Harsh see his work. But it felt important to appear at least semi-composed. He was already making himself vulnerable, embarrassing himself by showing his blatant lack of understanding. He knew Harsh would be kind, and patient. The man had yet to show any sign of regretting his decision to take him in, something that was both a comfort, and a concern. It was forever looming over his head, the thought of the older vampire growing bored of playing mentor. But he knew he couldn’t live in fear. Either it would happen, or it wouldn’t, and right now, what was important was his distinct, and disorienting lack of knowledge. Hopefully, by the end of the night, he wouldn’t feel so lost, or confused. He might finally get some answers.  

People had been helping him, Harsh in particular had made him feel safe, and secure in a way he could never have anticipated. But there was so much to learn, and it was very rare for information to come up organically. He was learning, that much was undeniable, but the pacing was slow, and eventually he had come to decide the best course of action would be writing a list. A list of everything he felt he had missed, everything that wasn’t about to come up in conversation, every question that hit him at 6 in the morning, every worry, every passing query, every fact that Rio wouldn’t know. Harsh would be there for him, in the same way he had been there for him since the moment they first crossed paths with each other. So he saw no harm in presenting him with said list, of asking him outright in a bid to know more. 

The overwhelming scent of human food told him he would find Harsh cooking in the kitchen. It was something he did an awful lot considering he wasn’t able to enjoy the food, but the sound of somebody cooking, the smells, and routine that came with seeing his roommate busy over a stovetop, was something he genuinely enjoyed. It made the apartment feel more like home. Slipping out of his bedroom, and making his way into the hall, his socked feet were soft, and quiet against the apartment’s hardwood flooring. When he finally arrived at the kitchen, he hovered in the doorway so that he could watch for a moment before making his presence known. No doubt Harsh was fully aware he had an audience, he was very good at staying vigilant, but he pretended otherwise so it felt polite to announce himself. “So…” He started, trying to ignore the sudden spark of anxiety that ignited within his chest. It was an unhealthy product of his academic upbringing, but he hated not knowing. If he needed to know the answer to a question he had always been encouraged to search for it himself, which made it very easy to pretend he had automatically known the answer. This was different. Harsh was him searching for information, only to get it, he first needed to admit that he didn’t have it. Something that didn’t come naturally to him. “What’s on the menu tonight?” He asked, leaning against the door jam, offering an affectionate smile.  

There was something strangely comforting about having a roommate again. No, comforting wasn’t quite the word. Settling, balancing maybe. Harsh didn’t care to get hung up on the particulars. He knew what he was like when left on his own too long, had been there too many times. He got reckless, he got sloppy. Even before he had turned, before he had thrown his soul away, he had been impulsive. It was worse now. Though he had learned from two hundred years of mistakes, there were still times he slipped, fell into old, bad behaviors. It was so easy. Instant gratification. That was the name of the soulless game and it was one he had played for two centuries. He liked to think he played it well, but there had been close calls and plenty of them. Now though, there was someone else to worry about. A couple of someones, if he was honest with himself now. He had friends, people who gave a shit. And he wanted to give one too. It was weird, the feelings scraping up the hollow where his soul should be. Wanting one wasn’t the same as having it, not by a long shot, but he had been pretending for a while. Fake it till you make it, the words had served him pretty damn well so far. What was a bit more? 

Harsh didn’t take his eyes off the sizzling pan in front of him as Milo made his way down the hall. The kid was learning. Stealth wasn’t part of the vampire package, but it was necessary to know to make it out there. Still, Harsh hadn’t made it this far without knowing when someone was sneaking up on him, when he was being watched. But he kept his eyes on the food before him. Neither of them needed to eat, but it was a habit he had never quite managed to shake. He remembered it vaguely how much he had liked to cook when he was alive. Though the tastes had faded off his tongue, the fun hadn’t. He grinned as he flipped the vegetables, tossing and catching in the searing pan. Glancing over his shoulder at Milo’s question, he grinned. “Stir fry, I found this new recipe I wanted to try. Extra spicy, careful around the garlic though, makes your fangs pop out if you get a big bite.” 

Grabbing two dishes from the cupboard, he plated up the food smoothly and slid one across the counter to Milo. The apartment wasn’t huge, but it was big enough to suit their purposes and had a landlord who didn’t look too closely at references. The kitchen was separated from the living room only by a half wall sort of island, a bar stool on either side. Harsh sank onto his after grabbing a mug of blood out of the microwave. “You want a cup?” he asked. “There’s more in the fridge. Should last us a couple weeks.”  

Milo eyed the vegetables as Harsh flipped them, looking back up at the man in time to catch his easy grin. It was so obvious he enjoyed cooking, though he had never thought to ask why before. Was it something he used to do a lot when he was human? Maybe he had been a chef in some past forgotten life. “Wait- you put garlic in there?” He asked, moving forward to peer into the pan, his notebook still clutched to his chest. “That’s really a thing? Like, vampires and garlic?” He couldn’t hide his skepticism though he definitely wasn’t about to demand any kind of proof. He figured that was one question he would be able to tick off of his list. Leaning against the kitchen counter as Harsh moved to ready two plates, he couldn’t help the way his expression brightened at the prospect of blood. He had always been self-indulgent. If something made him feel good, or he enjoyed it, then he wanted more. He wasn’t in the business of denying himself simple pleasures, and thanks to his new life, blood happened to be one of them.  

He had kept note of his roommate’s eating habits, he knew vampires only really needed a moderate amount every couple of weeks if they wanted to get by without descending into bloodlust. But much to the detriment of Harsh’s supply, he had been drinking far more than he needed to. Why not? If Harsh was happy to let him then he saw no reason to hold back. “Sure!” He enthused, picking up his plate of food and setting it down opposite Harsh so that it would be ready for him when he got back. Leaving his notebook beside it, he moved to pull a blood bag out of the fridge. Using a pair of scissors from the cutlery drawer to cut open the plastic, he looked back over to his company as he began to empty the blood into a mug. “Did you have a good day- I mean, night at work?” He absentmindedly corrected himself, still not used to the shift in scheduling. “Anything interesting happen?”  

“Oh yeah, a whole bunch. I know it’s weird.” Harsh shot Milo a grin as he drew closer, glancing at the notebook. Huh, he was actually trying to do homework on this whole vampire thing. That was probably smart. “It is… sort of. It doesn’t hurt us or anything, but it makes it pretty hard to pretend to be human. Try a clove and see what happens,” he said, passing one over. “I just eat them like popcorn sometimes. They actually taste like something. I go a little crazy seasoning things sometimes.” As much as he swore by the perks of being undead, he couldn’t really deny that not being able to taste things properly was sort of a pain. After two hundred years, he was used to it, but playing around in the kitchen, trying to find something that would cut through the dullness never quite got old.  

The blood wasn’t going as far as it used to, but that was to be expected. Sharing with a roommate, and a newbie at that, was going to make things a little tighter than usual. Oh well. If they started running low on blood bags, Harsh could just go eat a couple joggers. He slid onto a stool at the counter, popping a large forkful of food into his mouth. Decent, but he could do better. “Well, Dr. Gnick killed three people in surgery today and made his interns talk to their families, so that was kind of a shit show. They seriously need to take that guy’s medical license away. If you ever want a watch though, let me know, he loses his in patients all the time. They’re nice ones too. What about you, man? Finding stuff to do around here?”  

“Everything about this situation is weird.” Milo countered, throwing the empty blood bag into the bin before putting his mug in the microwave. Setting the timer in the way he had been taught to, the drink should be body temperature by the time the alarm eventually sounded. Just the fact that he knew how long to microwave blood for inarguably supported his statement. That was not normal information to retain. Turning around to lean back against the counter behind him, listening to the quiet hum of the appliance, he wrinkled his nose at the thought of eating garlic cloves like popcorn. He knew as he tried to imagine doing so he was remembering the overpowering taste that came with being human, but it was still a difficult habit to understand. Hesitantly reaching out to take the clove offered to him, he held it up to his eye level, analysing it quietly before deciding he had nothing to lose. Popping it into his mouth, it definitely wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, and Harsh was right about being able to taste… something. But it was only a matter of seconds before he could feel his fangs protruding. They made him feel clumsy, and awkward as he continued to chew. After forcing himself to swallow, he reached up to prod at them with the tip of his finger, raising his eyebrows at his roommate. “So that’s what happens?” He asked. “It doesn’t hurt us but it stops us from looking human?”  

It was kind of depressing to think something as mundane as an ingredient could reveal what he was now, draw this monster out of him against his will, but he tried not to dwell on that fact, focusing instead on the microwave as it beeped to alert him that his drink was ready. Once he was comfortably hugging the mug to his chest, he settled into the chair opposite his friend, a quiet laugh escaping him at what he sincerely hoped was a joke. “No he did not.” He countered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Though honestly, shit like that would probably go unnoticed in a place like this.” If doctors could steal blood bags, and he could forge his father’s prescriptions, then people weren’t exactly being vigilant. “I can’t say I’m in the market for a watch,” he admitted. “But I’ll take one if it’s got a gruesome backstory.” Faltering at the question of how he was spending his time, he realised it was the perfect way to change the subject of their conversation. Move it over from lighthearted small talk to something heavier, and more difficult to discuss. Chewing on his bottom lip for a moment, his fangs sharp and uncomfortable against the skin there, he pulled his notebook back towards himself. “Actually…” He tapped his fingers absentmindedly against the page facing upwards. “I spent today coming up with a list of questions.” Offering Harsh a sheepish grin, he watched him carefully for any sign of judgement. “If- if you don’t mind me asking, I mean- I guess his is probably the last thing you want to do after work.” 

“Eh, after you’ve been doing it a while, it doesn’t seem that off.” Harsh hardly even thought about it anymore. Drinking blood was just one of those things, like showering or brushing his teeth. But then, he did have about two hundred years to get used to it. He snagged a couple cloves of garlic for himself, not so much as blinking when his fangs jutted out. It took a moment’s focus to get them back in place. Though he didn’t need to. Not like Milo was going to care about it. “Pretty much. So if you’re ever hanging around humans, just make sure you skip the garlic bread.” Garlic usually didn’t prove to be too much of a problem, though Harsh had encountered a couple humans over the years who had tried to slip him some, just to force the fangs out, to prove what they were already certain of. “It would be worse if we could still taste things. I would miss Italian food way more if it still tasted like something. If there’s any kind of food you miss though, I can try to make it. I like playing around with recipes, see what I need to do to make it actually have flavor.” 

Harsh laughed, one shoulder rising in a shrug. “Is pulling a watch out of a dead guy’s guts gruesome enough? I swear, the stuff you find in bodies at the hospital is wild.” He had a small collection of things that had been found by the unlucky doctors dealing with the patients who didn’t make it. Maybe it was stealing, but he was pretty sure that no one wanted any of it back. “Questions?” Harsh blinked, caught a little off guard. He shouldn’t have been though. It made sense. When he had first turned, he had probably driven Eleanor crazy with all his questions. “I don’t mind. Better you ask me than try to find vampire forums online, people always make up the weirdest shit. So go for it, kid. Ask me anything.” Hell, this would probably be a better way to spend the night than just watching whatever mindless crap was on TV.  

Milo could understand that. Even though on occasion he still caught himself doing something and was inevitably struck by just how strange that something was, his more vampiric habits were slowly becoming second nature. How long until he did things without thinking? Without remembering a time where he didn’t need to? Taking a sip from his mug, washing away the taste of the garlic, he watched Harsh as he retracted his own fangs. It wasn’t the first time he had seen him do it, but now felt like a very good time to ask him how it was possible. “How do you do that? Make them disappear?” He offered a sheepish grin, hiding behind his mug to avoid acknowledging his embarrassment. Maybe no matter what he did, he was going to feel ridiculous for asking so many questions. Maybe he should simply embrace that fact. “Noted.” He laughed quietly at the mention of garlic bread. He wasn’t sure there were many humans he needed to worry about eating around, so it wasn’t very much of a concern. Still, he was willing to take any advice he could get his hands on. “Italian food is your favourite? What was Italian food even like… two hundred years ago? How old are you again?” Making a mental note to think back on any food he missed that Harsh might be able to recreate, he wrinkled his nose at the mention of objects being found in dead bodies. Of course he had ended up with a roommate who liked to collect said items.  

“I actually don’t want to know, I’ve changed my mind.” He teased. “I can’t believe you have a collection. Have any ghosts followed you home demanding their shit back?” He was only half joking, he definitely wouldn’t be surprised if the answer ended up being yes. Feeling a little more confident in himself now that the conversation was flowing easily, he nodded, grateful for no longer being able to blush. “Oh, jeez. Thanks for the heads up. I’ll, uh… I’ll stay away from the internet.” Offering his company a genuine smile, he took one more sip of his drink before begrudgingly setting it down. This was going to require his full attention, he couldn’t afford to get distracted. Pulling his notebook towards himself, he let out a huff of breath. Why was it this hard? It shouldn’t be this hard. Especially when Harsh made him feel so comfortable. “Okay, so you know I wrote a list… I’m just going to- I’ll start with the first question.” It was only going to complicate things if he jumbled them, so he swallowed his nerves, steeling himself to rip off the bandaid. “So… why can’t we sleep?” It was something that had been bothering him an awful lot, as of late. He could almost sleep, achieve something that passed the time and felt similar to losing consciousness. But it wasn’t the same. He missed the comfort, and the warmth. He missed the dreaming. “It’s like I can, but I can’t- if you know what I mean. I don’t get it…”  

That was a decent question actually. Harsh hesitated, trying to think about it. There was so much that was just automatic now. He had spent so long learning to blend in, how to make himself seem more human, it was something he barely thought about. “You have to kind of relax your mouth. Think un-bloody thoughts. Just let them sink back in. It’s… kind of an instinct thing when they pop out sometimes, y’know? So you have to train yourself to just let them slip back in when you don’t need them. It’ll get easier with time.” At least, that was the hope. If Milo couldn’t figure it out, well… that was going to be a problem for later. He considered the question for a moment, shrugging. “I don’t know if it was my favorite. It depended where you went. I travelled a lot before I turned, everywhere had their own special dish. I’m 262… wait, I might be 263 actually. I sorta stopped keeping track of birthdays a while ago. They seem less special after the hundred year mark.” The date hardly mattered. If he really sat down and thought about it, he could probably remember, but there didn’t seem to be much of a point. It was easier to keep track of the years ticking by.  

“Hey, it’s not like I just keep them for the hell of it. Loose watches and rings sell for a lot if you know who wants to buy.” It wasn’t something Harsh technically needed to do, the hospital job paid well enough and he had a decent amount saved. Still, a little extra spending money never hurt. Watching Milo’s posture shift, Harsh sat up a little straighter. So the kid was serious about this. Good, that was good. The more he knew, the better he would handle things out in the world. Huh, that was actually a pretty good question. Harsh rubbed at his chin. “Yeah, I know what you mean. The short answer is that we just don’t need to. I… think when we turn, things in our brain kind of shift a little bit. You don’t need that deep sleep to recharge anymore, so we just… don’t. It’s weird. It’s one of those things that gets easier over time. I think another part of it is… well, humans are kind of wired to sleep at night, but that’s the only time we can really go out and do anything, so we need to be awake for it. If you really miss sleeping… I know a couple people who might be able to help with that.” It wasn’t a guarantee, but hell he had seen spellcasters do a lot more than just put someone to sleep.  

Milo glanced down at the blood in his mug, it was tempting him even as they spoke. Maybe thinking ‘un-bloody’ thoughts would need to wait for another time. “Hm, you keep saying that.” He pointed out. Though he had no doubt the words were true, sometimes he felt too impatient to wait for things to become easier with time. Why couldn’t they become easier now? Falling silent again, genuinely intrigued by the answer to his question, he couldn’t imagine how different travelling was back when Harsh had been human. Did he use a horse and cart like in the movies? Or ships, maybe? What other modes of transport were there? A quiet laugh escaping him, he did his best to avoid dwelling on his roommate’s age. It was fun to joke about every now and then, but the reality of it was terrifying. He had gone from feeling certain he probably wouldn’t reach the age of fifty, to knowing he might very well live to see his two hundredth birthday. What were you supposed to do with that information? How were you supposed to come to terms with that? “I guess fitting more than a hundred candles on a cake is pretty impossible anyway.” He teased.  

His smile growing as he realised Harsh sold the items he took from the morgue, he wasn’t sure whether that was more or less reassuring. It could definitely be considered economical. Watching as his company sat up a little straighter, he felt another wave of gratitude wash over him. He didn’t need to be taking this so seriously, but apparently he understood how important it was. How desperate he was just to understand. His smile faltered as Harsh began to explain the way their bodies worked, but it didn’t take away from his appreciation. He wanted to say he wasn’t disappointed, that he had inevitably drawn the same conclusion. But he was disappointed. He was never going to have the feeling of waking up next to somebody again. He was never going to be able to drift off in the morning knowing he didn’t need to be up for anything. It was an opportunity to escape reality, to just enjoy being comfortable, and it had been taken from him. Stolen like so many other things. “You- you do?” He asked, unable to hide the sudden spark of hope he felt ignite within his chest. “Like actually sleep? Because I already know from experience I can still drink myself into oblivion.” Taking a quick sip from his mug before picking up his pen and crossing out question number one, he tapped the top of it against his notepad, already thinking over question number two. “Okay…” He continued, making it clear he was moving on. “So how can we be killed? There has to be more than one way, right? And we can get injured, so if we get injured enough, can that be fatal... or is it only if we’re injured by wood?” 

“Ah, yeah, sorry. I don’t mean to be a broken record. It’s just… you’re still pretty new to all this, man. You’ve gotta give yourself a break. There’s no rush, y’know? You’ve got a couple hundred years to figure shit out if you play your cards right.” It felt lame to say, but Harsh knew he had been repeating himself. That didn’t make it less true. There were so many things that he had just stumbled onto as time went on, things that just became natural the longer he spent as a thing that went bump in the night. Honestly, some of Milo’s questions kinda threw him. He hadn’t thought about his fangs in such a long time. They were just part of him. It was like asking about how his tongue moved when he was eating something. It just… did it. But that wasn’t a helpful answer. With a laugh, he nodded. “I tried to put a hundred on a cake once. It wasn’t really worth the joke, the whole thing got all waxy and gross. It’s easier to just get those number shaped candles, cheaper too.” The thing about birthdays is that you needed people to celebrate them with. Harsh didn’t always have those. But… maybe he should look into it. There were people in White Crest, his friends, they might like that kind of thing. It was weird to think about.  

“Yeah, I do.” Harsh sort of did. It was… maybe a weird ask, but that was probably something Nell could whip up, or maybe he could track down someone a little shadier and ask. It wasn’t as though he had never dreamed as a vampire, though the few times he had, something magic had definitely been at work. So it was possible… probably. He had never actually figured out what it had been that caused all that dream sharing stuff, but it hadn’t been all that important. At least not for him. “Actual, real sleep. It… might get a little weird, magic can do that, but I think it would be more like what you want.” Magic always had its risks. He wasn’t anything close to a spellcaster and he knew that much. Onto the more intense questions then. That was a pretty smart ask though. “There’s a couple ways,” he said, nodding, “stake through the heart is the most popular. You probably know about the sun thing, if you stay out too long, it’s bad news. We’re also shockingly flammable, so I would avoid campfires and arson. And getting your head cut off, but I’m pretty sure that kills most things. Most other things we can heal from, and we heal fast, but you don’t want to get too reliant on that. Bullets and knives still hurt like hell, and if you haven’t had blood in a while, you heal slower.” Harsh didn’t exactly have the scars to prove it, but he could remember more than a few times where he had gotten a little too cocky and paid the price.  

Milo smiled at Harsh, silently assuring him he didn’t need to apologise. Especially not for trying to comfort him, even if he did use the same lines on occasion. He was right, although the reminder of his new lifespan still made him nervous. He had time to figure things out, time to become comfortable with what he was, and the strange world he had been thrown into. He was already feeling far better than he had when Harsh first crossed his path, and that was largely due to his help. In a few more months he might even be happy, there really was no way to know. “Hm, but those number candles aren’t anywhere near as dramatic.” He pointed out. “Isn’t a hundred kind of a flex?” Wrinkling his nose at the thought of biting into icing only to realise it was actually wax, he couldn’t deny the inconvenience. But then, did vampires even eat cake? Making a mental note as the conversation shifted back to sleep, he didn’t want to forget. He longed to know who these people were, who he could go to and ask for some spell or potion that might allow him to replicate sleep. But that wasn’t what he was here to discuss. There were more important questions demanding his attention. “I can handle weird.” He assured his roommate, although he had a feeling there might be a lot of evidence to prove otherwise. Until recently he had been a mess, and they both knew it. Only with Harsh’s support had he been able to brush himself off, and hesitantly begin to deal with the loss of his human life.  

Pushing away the thought, he focused on his mug of blood, nearly half empty now as it sat on the table in front of him. He picked it up, taking another sip before it was able to get cold. Nodding to show that he was listening to what was being said, he considered the new information. He was more than familiar with people trying to force a stake through his heart, but the mention of fire surprised him. “Wait- we’re flammable?” He asked, his mouth open slightly as he stared in indignant disbelief. “What, so every time I pull out my lighter I could literally fucking die?” As far as he was concerned, he would much rather take the inconvenience of wax on a cake over being scared of the candles. “You’re saying smoking can still kill me…” He added, pouting petulantly as he began to realise how frustrating navigating his smoking habit was going to be. “Shit.” Finishing what was left of his drink, he undeniably did feel better after putting his mug down again. Blood, like so many other substances in his life, was proving to be a wonderful aid when it came to avoiding his problems. “Okay, so…” Letting out a huff of breath, he turned his attention back to his notebook, scanning the questions he had written there, searching for the next one on the list. “You said if I haven’t had blood in a while then I heal slower? How much blood do I need to survive? And what happens to me if I don’t drink it?”  

It was a pretty big adjustment, going from expecting to croak in fifty years to knowing there might be hundreds to go. Harsh had been pretty thrown when he had realized just how much time he had. Sure there was that distant deadline, four hundred years, but even that wasn’t an end. It was… a change, but one he wasn’t really eager to think about. Even though he was getting closer to that than he was to a normal human lifespan. Still, not his main problem right now. “Kinda, yeah. I definitely made a pretty big deal of it when I hit triple digits. But the second century seems a little more meh, y’know?” Though maybe that was just him. By the time he had started getting close to two hundred, everything had started to seem… less than it used to be. The hollow inside had started to grow, nothing ever filling it. Nothing lasted, nothing mattered. Huh, were souls a thing on Milo’s list? Harsh was half tempted to ask. Nah, probably better not to touch that unless the kid brought it up. “Alright, I can ask. Do you--have you messed with anything magic before? We can’t do it, at least I’m pretty sure we can’t. But there’s kind of… a lot of it just going off around here.” Milo was from the area, he had to have noticed some things weren’t quite normal in town. How anyone didn’t know that White Crest was a supernatural hot spot was beyond him. Denial was a hell of a drug.  

With a little laugh, Harsh nodded. “Yeah. I mean, you’re probably not going to go up in flames if you drop your smokes on you, but… you might just want to be a little more careful with them. Just in case.” He had seen a few vamps catch fire before, it wasn’t pretty. Still, it didn’t usually happen by accident… usually. There had been a few idiots here and there who had landed themselves in rough shape. “It’s possible,” he said, shrugging and shooting Milo a sympathetic smile. “Just be careful and you shouldn’t have a problem… but I might stay away from bonfires if I were you.” Ah, blood, of course. It always came back around to that. Harsh hardly thought about it now. But the questions were good ones. “Yeah, and it’s not just healing. If I go too long without blood, I start getting antsy, it gets harder to focus on anything except for when I’m getting that next blood bag.” He fought down a slight shudder as he spoke. It had been ages since the last time he had gone too long without a drink, but the times he’d stretched his supply a little too thin always stuck in the back of his mind. “It depends. You’re still new, so… I wouldn’t go more than a week without a pint of blood. Once you adjust more, you can probably stretch it to two weeks, maybe three, but it starts getting risky around then. If you don’t get any… for me, I start feeling a lot less like a person. It gets to where it’s all you can think about. And, if it gets really bad, you might kind of lose yourself until you get another drink, and at that point, you’ll probably do anything you have to to get it.”

“Hm, the second century…” Milo echoed, amused by the absurdity of the statement. He could only imagine being that old, but one day he wouldn’t need to. One day it would be him reaching the triple digits. “Have I- no.” He answered, caught off guard by the unexpected question. “I mean, I don’t even know anybody who can do magic… I don’t think I do, anyway.” It was still strange to consider how many people from his life had been living in a secret, supernatural world. If he was being entirely honest he probably did know a witch or two. They just hadn’t told him about what they could do. “Why? Is it like, dangerous or something? Are you going to tell me it’s more trouble than it’s worth?” He almost dreaded the words, not because he would heed any advice Harsh had to offer, but because it would be another element of his life that came with risks, strings attached, people worrying over his safety, and growing restless when he refused to listen to them. He already had enough of that without turning to magic as a sleeping aid. “Yeah, no shit.” He added. “Ever since I died this place seems to get weirder by the fucking day…” He missed the days of blissful ignorance, the days where he could leave the house without worrying whether a Slayer might be waiting at the end of the street to stake him. Picking up his mug again, he sighed, clutching it to his chest as he listened to his roommate.  

“If I did careful then I wouldn’t be a vampire.” He pointed out. Though they both knew he would be careful knowing the risk fire now posed to him. Not as careful as any sane person, but given his record any level of vigilance was commendable on his part. Paying closer attention as the conversation moved back to blood, he finished what was left of his drink, carefully savouring the taste of it. “I guess I kind of know that feeling…” He admitted, thinking back on every time he had ever been forced to go without his pills, or his cigarettes, or abstain from drinking alcohol. It was never an enjoyable experience. “I, uh… don’t think stretching is for me.” He realised as he said the words that maybe sometimes stretching would be his only option. Blood wasn’t exactly easy to source in an ethical manner. Without Harsh’s connection to the hospital, he didn’t know where his supply might be coming from. He wouldn’t let himself dwell on the thought. Swallowing as his company began to tell him about the risks of not eating properly, he lowered his gaze, tapping his fingers against the ceramic in his hands. He already knew what it felt like to lose himself, he never wanted to suffer through that again. “Like when you wake up… after you die...” He asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Would Harsh even be able to remember waking up? It had happened to him so long ago.  

Forcing down the memories of his first, and only attack, he stared at his notebook, at the questions still written there demanding to be vocalised. “You mentioned healing…” He murmured, determined to change the subject, although he knew his next question was going to be a difficult question to ask. Harsh was more than aware of the fact that he liked to indulge, the man had even walked with him to pick up on the night they crossed paths with each other, but he still worried he could end up facing judgement, or the specific brand of sympathetic concern that still managed to set his teeth on edge. “This is hypothetical,” he started, knowing his lie would be obvious but feeling the need to insist upon it all the same. “But with the whole… the healing faster than humans thing, do you think I could still use, y’know- intravenously?” Glancing down at the marks on his arms, scars from long ago that were apparently going to forever blemish his skin, he forced himself to press on. “I guess I can’t OD anymore, right? Is that something I still need to worry about?” 

That sort of made sense. Most people didn’t believe in magic until they saw it right in front of them, and sometimes that wasn’t even enough to do it. Harsh shifted his weight from foot to foot, a slight frown on his face. The question here was just how much to tell Milo. “More like it’s just literally not a thing we can do. Something about undeath and magic just doesn’t seem to mix. I don’t really know much more than that, honestly. I’ve heard people kind of lose their mojo if they turn like us. They’ll try to do a spell and just, nothing. I tried to mess with some a while back and never got anywhere.” He kept his tone light, casual, hoping Milo wouldn’t ask just what he had been trying to do. There were a dozen things he could make up, a few that weren’t even that far from the truth. “It’s also dangerous as shit if you don’t know what you’re doing. I won’t tell you not to mess with magic or spellcasters, I’m not the boss of you, but that stuff can go wrong and it’s not pretty when it does.” It was only just now getting weirder for him? Well, maybe that made sense. Milo had sort of been thrust into the thick of it.  

With a soft laugh, Harsh nodded, holding up his hands. “Fair enough.” He couldn’t really argue with Milo on that one. Careful and becoming undead didn’t exactly go hand in hand. He nodded. “That’s probably better honestly. What really gets people in trouble is when they think they can make it on just a sip of blood every month. You’ll be a lot better off if you stay regular with it, especially if you’re not always drinking human blood.” He was still going to have to teach Milo how to hunt. It wasn’t exactly necessary at the moment, but two vamps meant a few more blood bags needed to go missing every month. Harsh had gotten good at keeping a low profile over the years. Milo though was still new, and new vamps weren’t exactly predictable. With a grimace, he nodded again. “Just like that. It’s… rough. People do a lot of things they regret if they go hungry for too long. I’d try just to not let it get to that point.” Easier said than done, honestly. 

Ah, that. Now that was a bit of a hazy area. Harsh smoked and drank here and there, but he had never dabbled much in stronger stuff. It had never really appealed to him. A blood addiction was enough as far as he was concerned. But it was still worth asking. “Right, so… I’m not exactly an expert on that. But I think you could. You’re probably going to have to jab a little harder and you might need a stronger dose than before if you want to feel something.” He paused, letting his thoughts drift back for a moment. Though he had never messed around with anything beyond a few pot brownies, he had met a couple vamps over the years who hadn’t been able to leave their old vices behind. “I did have a few buddies a while back, they said they could still get what they needed if they fed from a human who just used. I don’t know if you’d want to do that, but… it’s an option, I guess. It sounds kind of risky to me though.” Drugs and drinking straight from a human sounded like a combination that was bound to end in disaster, but hell, Harsh had never tried it himself so what did he know. “I don’t think you need to worry too much about OD’ing now. I’d be more worried about someone thinking you OD’ed and sending you to the hospital. It’s really hard to explain waking up in a morgue.” 

Milo made a mental note to avoid magic when he could, although toying with it didn’t necessarily interest him. He was looking for a way to replicate sleep, if that wasn’t possible he wasn’t sure staying away from potions, and spells would be difficult. Part of him was curious to know why, and how Harsh had been involved in spellcasting, it was becoming increasingly clear he was speaking from experience, but the older vampire was always so open when he wanted to be. If he wasn’t volunteering the information there was definitely a reason. He was under his roof, drinking his blood, picking his brain for answers to his never ending list of questions. The very least he could do was respect his privacy. “I’m not about to try and learn, don’t worry.” He insisted, hoping to alleviate some of his company’s concern. He had far too much going on to invite more chaos into his life, especially for something as simple as a good day of sleep. Smiling at the sound of Harsh’ laughter, he enjoyed the fact that the conversation felt casual, and calm. Any embarrassment, or vulnerability was fading away, replaced by a familiar sense of comfort. It was a reminder that he was safe in Harsh’s company, a reminder that for some unknown reason, the man wanted him to be okay.  

“Is it good for you?” He asked, unable to help himself. He had never once considered the nutritional value of his diet, what his new body needed from it now. “To drink both?” He thought back to his nights spent on the edges of town, chasing aimlessly after every animal moronic enough to cross his path. Sometimes he got lucky, sometimes he actually managed to catch something, but the animals were usually weak or injured. He knew he wouldn’t stand a chance against a healthy creature, one determined to escape him. The blood couldn’t compare to human blood, but it had still tasted decent, and more importantly, it had kept him sane. Would he ever have to go back to that? Should he never have left it behind? Chewing on his bottom lip, fighting to keep his expression neutral, he didn’t want to talk about his own experience with losing control. He wasn’t ready to discuss that with anyone, not even Harsh. So he stayed silent, nodding quietly in response. It was only as Harsh moved on to his next question that he finally looked back up to catch his eye again.  

A stronger dose. He wasn’t exactly against the notion, although he could hear his wallet adamantly protesting the news. He really should start thinking about going back to his job, but that part of his human life felt so out of reach, impossible to even consider. Not yet. Not now. Not after everything. “You did?” He asked, immediately desperate to know more. There were people out there who understood what he was worried about, who knew everything he needed to know if he wanted to continue supporting his habits. Where were they? How could he find them? Just as quickly as a sense of hope washed over him, it was replaced by a chill that seemed to shoot up the length of his spine. He couldn’t remember very much of his death, but his hazy memories were enough to make his friend’s words sound uncomfortably familiar. So he could give somebody drugs, and get high through drinking their blood? Apparently that particular strategy ended with people bleeding out on the floor of abandoned buildings. He suppressed a shudder, trying not to think too hard on the subject. He didn’t know that was why he died, and until he did he was determined to forget the details of his death, forget the trauma that he couldn’t seem to shake. “Yeah…” He murmured, reaching up absentmindedly to press his fingers against the base of his throat. “It does…” Forcing a smile again at the mention of waking up in a morgue, he had seen enough tv shows frame the situation as a joke to be able to glean some humour from the warning. Lowering his hand, he leaned forward to pull his notebook closer towards himself, scanning the list, surprised to realise he was nearing the end of it. “Okay,” he said, brushing off the previous questions, ready to be replaced. “How do you make somebody a vampire? What do you have to do for them to, you know… change? Obviously I’m not asking because I want to... I just… I can’t remember what happened to me. I want to know what was done to me.”  

It was sort of a relief that Milo didn’t ask. Because if he did, Harsh would tell him. Maybe he should anyway. Was there anything about souls on that vampire question sheet? He almost wanted to sneak a peek at it. It wasn’t exactly… uncommon knowledge, but he had run into plenty of vamps over the years who had never even thought about their soul, let alone getting rid of it. He gave Milo a little smile. “Probably better that way. There’s plenty of witches hanging around town if you need some magic done anyway. It’s actually pretty cool if you watch someone who knows what they’re doing.” Cool and terrifying. Even when a spell was going right there was a chance it could go south at any second. Harsh sort of liked that rush… and he wouldn’t be that surprised if Milo did too.  

“Yeah, a while back. I can try looking them up if you want.” The offer was one Harsh might not be able to cash in on. It had been ages, and those buddies weren’t really the type to have a consistent phone number or address… if they were even still around at all. “You might be able to find some people who know more about that down at this club called Teeth. You heard of it?” It probably wasn’t the sort of place he should send Milo to alone. He didn’t go there much himself, but he could chaperone now and then. God that was a weird idea, being the responsible one. When the hell did that happen? He was going to have to go out and make some dumb choices after this. Being responsible felt off. He had been trying to fake it, force it, for years. The fact that it was just kind of… happening now was weird. Unnerving.  

Oh… now that was a question. Harsh let his fingers drum on the counter for a second. “Yeah, I get you.” It was understandable, wanting to get a grip on what had happened to him. “It’s not that complicated… mostly. You have to drain someone till they’re almost dead then get them to drink your blood and they should turn.” He paused, lips pulling into a grimace. “But you’ve got to be careful with it. Sometimes people turn, but… they don’t end up like us. Have you heard of spawn before? They’re… still vampires technically, but they’re not people anymore, not like we are. Some vampires make spawn on purpose, but it’s pretty messed up.” He should know, he’d done it a few times for shits and giggles. It had never turned out as funny as he had thought it would. 

Milo resisted the urge to let out a huff of breath, of course White Crest was filled with witches. It seemed as though you could roll a dice on supernatural creatures and run into one the second you opened your door. “It sounds pretty cool.” He admitted. “But I can’t think of any reason why I might need magic… apart from the whole sleeping thing.” And maybe he should hold off on that for now. If magic could come with complications, didn’t his life have enough of those already? Humming softly as he considered the offer, he shot Harsh a sheepish grin. He was grateful he wasn’t being judged, or even reprimanded for his blatant intentions, but he hadn’t been expecting such a genuine level of support. “You’ve already done so much for me… I mean, only if it isn’t too much trouble?” Teeth. He felt sure he would remember visiting any place with such a distinctive name. “Uh… no,” he said, hoping to prompt a further explanation. There weren’t many establishments in White Crest he hadn’t frequented at least once before. And now he was incredibly curious to know more.   

Feeling the atmosphere shift, becoming more serious as Harsh considered his latest question, he watched his fingers as they drummed against the surface of the table, the noise was quiet but incredibly distracting. Hearing the words, feeling them wash over him as his brain began to process what they meant, he had to swallow the bitter taste in his mouth. “I… drank somebody’s blood?” He asked, repressing a shudder. Drinking blood now was part of his every day routine, but he had been human then. Had he willingly taken it, or had his attacker forced it upon him? “Spawn?” He nodded, a frown creasing his brow as he looked back down at his list. The question ‘What does Spawn mean?’ jumping out at him in his clumsy, familiar handwriting. “Someone mentioned them to me once… but I didn’t know what they meant.” Feeling his stomach jolt as he realised he could have become the something other Harsh was talking about, he wondered what his chances had been. Whether he should be considering himself lucky for waking up as a vampire. “How do you make them? Is it the same… process?” He asked. If they could be created intentionally then surely there was a technique. “How do you know what somebody is going to become?” 

“You never know. It’s pretty helpful if you lose something.” Harsh wasn’t about to list off his big reason for needing magic. But he should. Milo should know. He should tell him the truth. No… there was no reason to scare the kid. And it wasn’t like he owed him that information. Souls were personal. If Milo found out about them, Harsh could tell him then. Why was he even so hung up on it? It wasn’t like it mattered. He was faking it perfectly fucking well. No reason to go and throw all that away. “It’s no problem, kid. I don’t get out enough anyway.” Probably better to have someone around for Milo’s first big vamp outing. There were a lot of bad influences out there. Harsh should know. He used to be one of the worst. Plus, if Milo went on some kind of drug fuelled blood bender, that would just make things more difficult for everyone. “We can hit it up this weekend if you want, see if it’s your scene.” 

Huh, so Milo really didn’t remember any of it. That was… rough. Harsh could still remember his. Well, parts of it at least. He hadn’t been alone. Eleanor had held his hand as the world went dark around him and been there when he woke up desperate to feed. Poor kid didn’t have any of that. “Yeah, that’s… kind of how it works,” he said, with a little wince. So he had at least heard of spawn, that was better than nothing. “Spawn give us a bad name. They’re the ones slayers should be dealing with.” He nodded, arms crossing over his chest. “Same process. I… don’t know exactly. I’ve always thought of it as an intent sort of thing. I know it can be done on purpose.” No need to tell Milo he knew at least partially from experience. “When you turn someone… it’s kind of this whole… thing. Siring someone isn’t something most people do lightly. I guess I’ve always thought of it as kind of a willpower and focus sort of thing. When you sire someone, you have to mean it, you have to want it. And if that’s not strong enough… it can go wrong. It gets easier to turn someone else properly the longer you’ve been at it. I’ve known some people who just turned who try to bring their family along for the undead ride and… it doesn’t usually go well.” 

“I don’t have all that much to lose these days.” Milo admitted, thinking about the meagre collection of belongings he had managed to salvage from his friend’s house. He should probably go home, he still needed clothes, his laptop, and maybe there were even a few comic books he couldn’t live without. But the task felt so daunting. Watching Harsh, noticing the shadow of an emotion he couldn’t quite place, he wondered whether the older vampire had ever lost anything. Maybe one day he would ask him. “I, uh…” He shifted uncomfortably, thinking about how ready he was to walk into a room full of vampires. His killer could be there and he might never even know. “Maybe… I’m still getting used to going out again, period. It’s a- it’s a weird adjustment.” He offered a smile, letting his roommate know he was incredibly grateful for the offer. For everything. He wasn’t sure where he would be without the man sitting opposite him, who worked in a hospital, and liked to cook human food just for the fun of it. He cared about him, in an altogether unexpected way. He had been saved by Harsh. It was undeniable at this point.  

“From the way it sounds they don’t mean to give us a bad name.” He pointed out, feeling a strange pang of sympathy for the monsters being described. It was a horrifying thought, becoming twisted, and warped in a way that forced you to lose who you were forever. At least he was still Milo, at least he could cling to the things that made him exactly who he was. “So… the person who did this to me, they wanted me to become a vampire. They cared enough for this-” He gestured vaguely to his neck, wrinkling his nose as he remembered the scars there. “To be successful, just not enough to stick around, I guess…” Letting out a huff of breath, he tried not to look affected, finally picking up his fork and taking a mouthful of his stir fry, if anything just for something to do. Glancing up again at the mention of people turning family, he couldn’t imagine that thought ever even crossing his mind. Maybe because he refused to acknowledge the way his future stretched out before him. Maybe because he didn’t want to admit the fact that one day his parents would no longer be there for him. Everything about the idea felt wrong, somehow. Dooming your family simply because you yourself had been doomed. He was never going to be that person. “M’kay…” He hurried to swallow, turning his attention back to the notebook, to the final question written at the edge of the page. “The last question is probably dumb but… you know the whole sunlight thing? What does happen if we stay out in the sun? When I first… y’know, I was in the sun for a while and I started to feel... I can’t explain it, I just knew I had to find some shade. Do we just get ill, and weak, or is it something more than that?”  

A weird adjustment period was putting it pretty mildly. Even more than a hundred years later, Harsh remembered the shift being rough. He returned Milo’s smile easily. Milo was a good kid. He didn’t ask for any of this shit, not like Harsh did. The fact that he had been left high and dry to figure it all out on his own… even without a soul, it rubbed Harsh the wrong way. At his very worst, he had still stuck around to make sure the vamps he sired knew what was up. It was just the thing to do. “Don’t worry if it takes you a while. It’s better to be safe than sorry with… everything. But you’ve got time now, man, you don’t have to rush it.” That was a pretty big perk of the whole undeath thing. Milo had at least a couple centuries before him if he wanted them… and if he was careful.  But that was always a pretty big if with new vampires. If Harsh was smart, he wouldn’t get attached, wouldn’t get invested. Harsh had never really considered himself particularly bright.  

“They don’t,” Harsh said, sighing. “They don’t mean to do anything but feed. It’s not their fault really… spawn can’t really think like we can. Everything gets stripped away except that hunger.” It was pretty bleak if he actually thought about it. Usually, he didn’t. That was easy, not dwelling, not thinking. But Milo wasn’t like him. Milo still had his soul, he still felt for people. Now that was an interesting question. Did whoever turned Milo actually care? What were they after? Why him? Harsh nodded slowly. “They meant for this to happen. Whoever it was, whatever reason they had… they wanted you to be this way.” Probably. Harsh had heard of plenty of people accidentally creating spawn. But he had never heard of someone accidentally siring someone if they meant them to go the other way. Sunlight, that was another good question, even if it had Harsh fighting down a wince. “You don’t want to test it, trust me. If you stay out too long, you start to burn. Remember how we’re flammable? Think of the sun like the biggest lighter out there. It just takes a while to get the fire going.” 

“Yeah…” Milo agreed, despite feeling as though maybe he was taking too long. Had Harsh been this shaken up when he first became a vampire? How long did it take him to stop feeling nervous, and scared? But he did have time, an awful lot of time, and somebody willing to be patient with him. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe, for the first time in his life, he was being forced to process change in a healthy manner. “Thank you…” He added, struck by a sudden sense of gratitude. “I mean, I know I say that enough for the phrase to lose all meaning but I do still mean it.” Taking another mouthful of stir fry, chewing it for longer this time to see if he could bring out any more flavour, he used his fork to push the food around his plate, listening as Harsh began to elaborate on Spawn. The subject made him uncomfortable for so many reasons. Because it made him anxious knowing he could have become one, because it upset him to know other people were suffering, because there was no way to save them, or teach them how to live again. It was over. It was a fate worse than death.  

Letting out a quiet huff of breath, he hesitantly glanced back up at his friend. They meant for this to happen. It was one thing to draw a conclusion himself, another thing entirely for Harsh to tell him he was right. There was no room for doubt, his roommate was speaking the truth. But that only left him with more questions, questions he might never find answers to. “Yeah, well… fuck him, right?” He muttered, wishing he could say the words and miraculously let go of his trauma. Even though speaking them did offer him a degree of satisfaction, it was never going to be quite that easy. Raising his eyebrows as Harsh seemed to wince at the mention of sunlight, he was so relieved for the distraction that he found himself resisting the urge to laugh. It wouldn’t exactly be appropriate until he understood the context, until he knew what Harsh had been through to warrant such a reaction. But a vampire being so averse to sunlight that he didn’t even like somebody mentioning the sun was amusing. He couldn’t pretend otherwise. “Right,” he nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. “Like an ant under a magnifying glass, jeez…” Repressing a shudder, he made the conscious decision not to dwell on the information. He could truly consider everything he had learned in the morning, when he was curling up in bed, alone, and safe underneath his comforter. Now he only wanted to enjoy an evening with Harsh, his roommate, his friend… his mentor? It was true, he wasn’t sure where he would be without him. But he did know, all things considered, that he was more than content with where he had ended up. 

[clearblue--water]

When say teaching is hard..

I don’t mean standing at the front of the class and teaching students how to write letters, or add numbers, or memorize the days of the week.

I mean it’s hard having such a huge heart without the ability to truly heal and help.

It’s hard to see the kids on the playground who have no friends and offering them to walk with you so they aren’t alone.

It’s hard to see the students come without snacks or a lunch and watching their friends eat all the fun foods and promising them I can secretly get them an apple or sandwich without their classmates seeing so they don’t feel embarrassed.

It’s hard knowing the lasting impacts of bullying first hand and not being able to prevent it.

It’s hard to see the shame and self doubt within the children when they don’t get a good grade.

It’s hard to hear the stories of parents being trapped back in their countries and the child feeling abandoned.

It’s hard to see children crying because they have no friends and you can’t force people to play together so you offer to be their friend when you’re on yard duty.

It’s hard to have a student say he has no dad because his dad is in jail.

It’s hard to get someone to focus on writing when they’ve just been adopted after being sexually abused by foster caregivers for their whole life.

It’s hard to see students struggle with mental health or behaviours that are so far out of your area of expertise that you can’t come near to saving them.

It’s hard to have a student say they’re not hungry just because they have no food to bring.

It’s hard to know the students need so much love and affection and attention, but you’re not even allowed to hug them.

It’s hard to witness bullying and doing your best to stop it but knowing you truly can’t prevent every opportunity that they have to torment other children.

It’s hard to try to convince children to keep their hands to themselves when they moved from a country with horrific violence that they were exposed to.

It’s hard to see children struggle with anxiety in the worst ways because they hate school.

It’s hard to know that the students who act out the most are truly struggling the most.

It’s hard to walk in the class and know that math, writing, and reading are on the agenda, but in reality they just need someone to talk to about their fears, hopes and dream.

It’s hard to comfort a year 1 student who witnessed domestic abuse the night before and woke up to sirens and police banging and her door.

It’s hard to discover a year 6 with cuts on their wrists and have to report it and find out they attempted suicide days before.

It’s hard to have students confide in you and say you’re the only person they trust when they should have so many people to trust.

It’s hard when parents won’t be on your side and recognize their child needs help.

It’s hard to be involved in children for such a huge amount of their life, while being able to only impact so little.

It’s hard when students say that no one cares about them and they’re not good enough for anyone.

It’s hard when a year 6 student cries all class saying they’re always sad and can’t talk about it because they don’t know why they’re sad, and you know that’s exactly what depression feels like.

It’s hard to be a teacher and feel the most guilt and self disappointment for not being patient enough or understanding enough towards the students who need it most because you’re human too.

It’s hard to not have a magic wand to heal and help every student because the innocence in their eyes is enough to shatter your heart with the pain they’ve had to feel.

It’s hard to leave that at the door. And to not go home at night and think about them at dinner and wonder if they’re eating too.

It’s hard to be one person with 30 children who need you to be on par everyday, to be their support and cheerleader, when you don’t have nearly enough time to give to all of them.

And by hard, I mean it’s hard because I care and love children so much and can’t fathom the thought of the trauma and struggles that some face. The rejection and abandonment. The abuse and mistreatment. It’s hard because no one prepares you for this. There’s no book on how to deal with children who hate themselves at age 6, who have no friends at age 12, or who have experienced an entire life of abuse at age 8. No one can teach you how to handle these circumstances, what to say, or how to prevent them from taking over your mental state. When you leave the classroom at the end of the day, their faces, voices, and stories don’t say behind. Most teachers have pure and gentle hearts which is why we care so deeply about each student which leads to the most guilt because you can only do so much. And it’s hard because I know first hand how detrimental bullying, name calling and not fitting in is on the rest of your life. The mistreatment and feeling of being an outcast lingers and never leaves no matter how many years pass. Teaching is hard. It’s not hard for the reasons people assume. Sometimes we forget the importance of putting on our own oxygen mask first because we’re so focused on making sure everyone else has theirs. I’ve been in the classroom for almost 3 years between student teaching and being an actual teacher. All of the challenges above are my first hand experiences. As one teacher. So before you judge a teacher in a negative way, don’t forget how much weight they’re carrying.