#ooh but shes like them in the most tragic way. the high expectations of a princess and a hero

[smokszyvverstar]

Sweet Chanterelle, if only you knew what you will risk, what you will give, all to keep your kingdom safe.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Banjo-Kazooie Spotlight

Hello, all! Guest writer Bynine here with an article on my favorite game of all time! Despite the immense popularity of this beloved N64 classic, the enemies of Banjo-Kazooie are not something that often comes up in discussion. Well, I'm here to change that!! Or at least, write well too much about some choice picks from the bestiary. Let's go!

Topper

Topper is the first in a small collection of sentient, googly-eyed vegetables that live in Spiral Mountain, where heroes Banjo and Kazooie also reside. Get used to those googly eyes, by the way, because you'll be seeing them a lot. Anywho, I really like the name Topper. You know, like "carrot top"! Great names are another feature of this series.

Bawl

Speaking of which, here's Bawl. Bawl is a fun name! It's hard to say without a southern drawl - bawwwl. Besides that, I don't have much to say about this hopping onion, but I still appreciate you, Bawl.

Colliwobble

The finale of our vegetable trio, and I'll be honest, I've saved the best for last. Sorry, Topper and Bawl, but it's a flying cauliflower called Colliwobble! How can you not love that? It flaps around gently with its big leaves, sustaining flight in a physically improbable yet adorable manner. How come the real thing can't do that, huh? No amount of bourbon roasted, brown butter baked cauliflower can convince me that we didn't get the short end of the stick here.

Gruntlings

The henchmen of the villainous witch Gruntilda, these oafish ogres patrol the halls of her lair, running after Banjo in a stance I'm sure they think is very intimidating.

Or maybe they want a hug? C'mere, big fella.

The most striking thing about Gruntlings to me is their impeccable fashion sense. They come in a variety of colors, and each one has a rakishly charming cloak to match, emblazoned with a fetching skull emblem. Would you mind stretching your arms out, Mr. Black Gruntling?

Thank you. Did Gruntilda coordinate these outfits? I'd believe it - she has a great ensemble herself, replete with a gorgeous purple striped scarf. And this is the same lady who's decorated her entire lair with images of her own face, after all...

Shrapnel

These ornery armaments are in the tragic category of enemies whose only goal in life is to detonate directly next to you. It's fitting then that they're based on a naval mine, but they also (perhaps unintentionally?) resemble sea urchins! How fun!

Normally they look fairly docile, even cute with their little underbite, but when Banjo draws near they growl and do... this. You okay there, buddy?

They're also the only enemies that appear in every Banjo-Kazooie platformer game! Clearly Rare knew they had a winner on their hands. Look at their pretty colors in Banjo Tooie! Look, but don't touch, please. It won't end well for anybody.

Sir Slush

Anyone who's played Banjo-Kazooie will be familiar with these goons. Living snowmen are usually quite jolly, and Sir Slush is no exception, with his consistent and hearty laughter. However, instead of frolicking in the snow, all Sir Slush does is pelt our heroes with snowballs. Rude!

Similar to the platonic ideal of living snowman himself, Frosty the Snowman, the life force of Sir Slush seems to be concentrated in its hat. It's invulnerable to most forms of damage, but if Kazooie strikes its hat at high velocity, it will be blown into icy chunks. Is this a similar principle to the "aim-for-the-head" zombie-killing technique? Are snowmen not merely zombies, extra ice, hold the flesh? Human bodies are 70% water anyway! 

Slappa

Another classic bestiary staple, the living hand! Slappa are gargantuan mummified arm-hand combos that pop up without warning from the dusty sands of Gobi's Valley, the requisite desert level of Banjo-Kazooie. True to their name, their main method of attack is a slap, where they simply fall over, crushing anything in their path. The most confusing thing about Slappas is that they have the ability to speak - they laugh if they manage to land a hit, and groan in pain when defeated. How are you talking, Slappa? Do you have a mouth hidden under those bandages? Maybe a whole face?

Artist's interpretation

There also exists a single non-violent Slappa called Grabba, who clutches onto a Jiggy and hides underground with it if you get too close. Should you manage to grab it, they mention having had it for a thousand years, but then congratulate you on your technique. Of all the traits to be assigned to a mummified hand, "sportsmanlike" was not one I was expecting, but I'll gladly take it.

Tee-Hee

Another winner of a name! Tee-Hee! That's great! This design is great too, in my humble opinion. You wouldn't expect a ghost to have such a goblinoid appearance, but Tee-Hee delivers both flavors of common RPG monster at once in an elegant package. Naturally Tee-Hees can phase through walls and are invincible to most attacks, staples of any Game Ghost (TM), and their pursuit is marked with constant laughter. Admittedly their laugh is more of a "mua-ha-ha" than a "tee-hee", but I'm willing to forgive it.

There's also a purple version! This one ignores Banjo and Kazooie entirely, preferring to move around in square patterns. Don't worry, though, it still laughs a lot. What's so funny about squares? Only the purple Tee-Hee knows.

Grimlet

Appearing on a ship known as the Rusty Bucket, Grimlet will disguise themselves as ordinary pipes, only showing their eyes and fangs when Banjo and Kazooie draw near. Despite their metallic appearance, they can stretch their bodies way out to take a bite out of bears and birds alike. You know, I like this design, but I feel like it could be improved somehow. Hmm...

Ooh! The beta version of Grimlet has a really interesting twist- eyes in its own mouth! Of course, any monster is improved when it puts its peepers in its gullet, and Grimlet is no exception. Well, let's keep going! 

An even earlier screenshot shows them with white, human eyes... and with a fleshy inner maw... Nope, I don't like this one bit. Abort!

Ahhh... Much better. Now that's a sentient cowl ventilator that I'd let take a chunk out of me. No, I don't have a problem! Quiet, you!

Of course, there are many more denizens of the BK universe worthy of scrutiny - in a universe where even common collectibles will strike up a conversation with you, that's not surprising. In particular, a Banjo-Tooie showcase would be a lot of fun... But I have to stop myself somewhere. Until next time!

[mongooseblues]

Bless You Father for I Have Sinned (Fleabag, Hot Priest) 1/1

Did anyone watch Fleabag and/or want to read about a hot priest sneezing?

This works just fine as a standalone if u haven’t seen the show but for context: Hot Irish prob alcoholic “cool swear-y” priest and recovering sex addict and all-around hot mess main character (who doesn’t have a name) strike up a “friendship” that is just a poorly veiled excuse for spending time with someone they want very badly to fuck but can’t bc priesthood vow of celibacy and whatnot.

Here’s ~2k words in which I continuously get off on the idea of blessing a priest and unresolved sexual tension I also don’t resolve.

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

“Fuck you, calling me Father like it doesn’t turn you on just to say it…”

It happens for maybe ten minutes before it starts to stick out to her. Because it’s cold, as it always is on early-spring nights in London, and while they’re both fully dressed (unfortunately), neither is probably quite dressed enough to be out in a garden at this hour. And they’re a bit drunk—not that drunk, they’re both pretty practiced—on the G&Ts he’s so fond of for whatever reason. He specifically likes the kind you get already mixed in a can, which are especially shit, but it’s almost endearing that he likes those in particular. Well, very endearing actually. Goddamn this man—or… hmm, poor choice of words.

It doesn’t really grab her attention until he combines the sniffling with pinching his nostrils together.

“You alright, you’re quite sniffly?”

“I know, I dunno what’s going on,” he says, and punctuates it with a harsher sniffle than the ones previously unacknowledged, “Think ‘m just cold.” He zips his sweatshirt up a bit as if to illustrate.

“We could get you a blanket and swaddle you up like baby Jesus.”

He laughs. She extracts from her coat pocket a pack of cigarettes, takes one herself and angles the carton toward him in offering. Mostly because she wants him to scoot closer to her on the bench as she flicks the lighter for him. The flame illuminates the angles of his face in orange, the back of his fingers grazing her hand by happy accident, and yes, it’s a little pathetic that this momentary skin-to-skin contact is as erotic as it is to her, but that’s what you get when you fancy a priest isn’t it?

“They’re always describing him as being swaddled. Odd word, swaddled. Sounds kind of violent.”

“It does kind of,” he agrees, leaning back against the bench and exhaling a stream of smoke into the night air. Her plan worked, he’s ever so slightly closer to her now, post cigarette exchange, close enough that when he sniffles she can feel the slight vibration of his shoulders through the loose fabric on her coat sleeve. It unites them like an accidental spark of electricity she can sense just faintly enough to feel jumpy. Or turned on. Or both.

She really shouldn’t be this shameless about trying desperately to corrupt a man of the cloth she wants to get under. Maybe she’d feel properly guilty if she wasn’t quite so fucking horny.

“So you did read more than just the passages I marked for you?” He asks, at once surprised and pleased and maybe nervous, grinning but also looking away for a moment as if he could disguise all of that.

“Not really, just the birth of the ol’ lord and savior. It seemed like it’d be climactic.”

“Was it?”

“Can’t say I climaxed reading it, no,” she says with a cheeky look that elicits the laughter she’s looking for, “No offense but it’s really quite boring, this book you love so much.”

“Yeah… that’s a tragically common sentiment among reviewers.” He’s scratching at his nose with the back of one wrist with such intensity it’s unmistakeable how much it’s bothering him.

“Don’t care much for the writing style either, I have to say.”

If the irritation could be resolved with a mouse-like scrunch of the nose he’d have figured it out by now, and clearly he hasn’t because he still has to shrink into his crossed arms like an accordion with a fairly high-pitched, vocal and thus somehow Irish-accented, “Hehh-ishhYUE!”

“Bless. The only way I was able to get through it was by imagining you in every speaking role.”

It’s a sentence meant to provoke him, not unlike most of her sentences, and for a minute as her eyes are on her own exhaled smoke and he fails to respond, she wonders whether it sounded even weirder than she meant it, but as it turns out he’s just about to sneeze again — squinting into the distance and bringing an arm to his face in slow motion.

“Mmff-SHOO!” He blinks in surprise as he resumes his previous position on the bench, now shifted just a bit farther away from her. Damn.

“Ugh, sorry. Every speaking role?? Ohfuck��� ahh-ishSHEU!”

“Jesus.”

“You imagined me as Jesus??”

“No I mean Jesus, are you okay, did you catch something?” Of course she imagined him as Jesus.

“Ooh I hope not,” he says with a nervous look, “that’d be lousy timing.”

“The lord works in mysterious ways.”

“Thuh-that he does—” A sudden inhale, a crooked arm rising at a much hastened speed. It begins in a manageable way, somewhat controlled, but then it seems to get away from him.

“Hh… hehd’SHHUE!”

“Bless you, Father."

He mumbles a thank you bookended by soft snuffling.

“Maybe he’s sent you a plague of sneezing. He does that sometimes doesn’t he? Send plagues?”

His face just scarcely conveys amusement before it’s hijacked again by the same expectant expression, but he still attempts to talk through it, even as irritation becomes evident in every feature. “S-sometimes…”

She thinks about saying bless you in advance but decides instead to just wait for him to succumb to it. A flicker of lashes, a reveal of the very tips of canines, his entire face crinkles around his visibly twitching nose. It pulls him downward and then forward in that order, as he collapses into a crooked arm as if stumbling despite being seated.

An especially desperate, “hehhSCHOO!” that begins quietly but certainly doesn���t end that way.

“God bless you, Father, again.”

“Wow,” he says with a sniff, knuckles swiping under his nose in a single smooth motion, “Maybe I’m allergic to you. My body’s having a reaction.”

“Is it?”

An eyeroll and a grin, and then he goes back to scratching at his aggravated face in a manner that’s becoming aggressive.

“Well stop manhandling your nose that’s clearly not working.” Before she can think better of it, she takes his elbow to pull the offending arm away from his face. She can feel his muscles tense with the movement, but when she looks up at him there’s only a blurry-eyed smile chased by a nervous huff of a laugh. Another line she can’t uncross but doesn’t particularly want to.

The therapist hadn’t needed to point out that her all-consuming attraction to someone she couldn’t have was probably a healthy coping mechanism of her recently adopted abstinence. She hadn’t really expected this though — for her advances to not be rejected entirely. She hadn’t planned for hope to cease feeling like such a daft, one-sided notion.

“Should I even be blessing you or is that overkill? Or am I even qualified to bless you? Can one bless a priest if they’re not like, anointed or something?”

“You can bless me,” he confirms, looking like he’s barely got a handle on controlling his own eyebrows. Or lips for that matter. God, that mouth, those lips. Parting by accident the way she’d like to make them open on purpose.

“Little greedy of you. You’re not blessed enough as is?”

“Neh—neverhurts…” He pitches sidewards with a slurred, tellingly tipsy, “hehh-ESHHyoooo!”

“Bless you…”

“Thank you,” he sniffles with embarrassed necessity, bringing the back of a sleeve to his nose.

“Hold on, I think I have some tissues,” she says as she feels around in her bag in the darkness, “Well, cocktail napkins at least.” Another knuckle brush as she hands them to him. How arousing. How pitifully arousing. She really should come up with ways to hand him things more often.

“Ahh you were holding out on me,” he says, and then after a gentle blow, “Sorry.”

“You are coming down with something aren’t you?"

He thinks about it, bringing the napkin away from his nostrils with a final follow-up dab. “I dunno, maybe?”

“Do you feel ill?”

“Mostly just very itchy.”

How many other chances will she get… She reaches a hand to gingerly press the back of her fingers against his forehead. He blinks a few times in response, rapidly and reflexively, and swallows back a smile. There’s a burning in her stomach that’s neither pleasant nor unpleasant.

“Um, you feel okay I think?” She says, attention course-corrected back to the cigarette crumbling in her hand, but still glancing at him to measure the aftermath of the relatively bold gesture and they lock smiling eyes in the process.

If he really wanted to ward her off he’s doing a phenomenally shitty job of it. She knows he wants her. God if only that was enough, to know he wanted her.

“I think you’re right I’ve been sent a plague of sneezing. Probably trying to tell me something.”

“Something about how your new friend could take care of you?”

He grins with half of his mouth. “Or something about how I probably shouldn’t be drinking G&Ts in the middle of the night with my new friend who I like a little too much.”

Oh he… really shouldn’t have given her that.

“ExxSHHUE!!” He shakes the whole bench with this, then straightens back up, not looking entirely recovered, and says almost to himself, “And about how I probably shouldn’t tell my new friend that I like them a little too much.”

“But you did anyway and he hasn’t, I dunno, smote you down yet.”

Irritation is still etched into his features, his chest slowly swelling with air, hastily fiddling with the napkins.

“Are you actually going to sneeze again? You haven’t finished?”

He shakes his head as his eyes close and seizes into a rushed, “hehESHHyue!"

“It’s a plague I can’t stop! Snf, it’s out of my hands."

She knows the night’s over, she does. She gets the sense that she’d been invited to overstay her welcome, but it’s getting past that point now. Whenever she leaves after being around him her face hurts from smiling like an idiot the whole time and she comes away aching in more ways than one. That ache is starting already, another sign they’ve stretched this interaction too long once again.

However, alcohol. “If you tell me to leave and you sneeze again perhaps we’ll know whether or not it was divine intervention.”

“He might just be punishing me now anyway,” he sighs, remembering a cigarette he may not have taken a single drag from, neglected and foreshortening in his fingers.

“We haven’t done anything we’re just talking. I’m a—what is it, parishioner?”

“That is a word, yes. Snf! Though it implies someone who’s actually going to church to, you know, practice their faith."

“I’m a parishioner here to…” she’s not even sure what to say, she still doesn’t know shit about Catholicism aside from the fact that it’s a massive cockblock, “seek your… counsel? Guidance? Guidance counseling.”

He puts a hand over part of his face, tired but amused. “You can’t act innocent even when you’re trying your best, can you?"

She almost snorts. Is this what he thinks trying her best looks like?—No, don’t actually say— “Who said I was trying my best?”

Why can’t she stop herself from saying things like that to him? The only thing that’s going to stop her now is a ‘no’ that’s actually firm enough not to give way when she presses against it relentlessly. He honestly needs to just get it over with before he really gives her too much to hold onto. She’s not going to win out over God, the guy’s pretty fucking stiff competition.

Goddamnit, just break her heart already, what the fuck is he waiting for? This should have ended ages ago, and now it’s getting dangerously close to too late.

Was it unfair to assume he’d be stronger than her? Or is he trying to hurt himself too? A duetted exercise in masochism, mutually assured destruc—

“—ESSHHYUE!” He looks at her through wet lashes, bleary and sheepish and drunk and cute and fuck.

She sighs loudly, looks skyward and says, “Right, you’ve made your point! I’m leaving!”

[neurodihuegent]

[Weird Sisters AU] "in tenebris magicae: a story's beginning"

Words: 2,495

Chapters: 1/17

Characters: Lena Sabrewing, Webby Vanderquack, May Duck, June Duck, Violet Sabrewing, Black Heron

Summary: Following the tragic loss of her mother, Lena finds herself returning to the Magical Realm to piece together the truth behind the fall of her mother. However, the deeper Lena digs, the worse things become.

(Text Under 'Read More').

Do it for her.

Because she certainly didn't want to do it for herself: If it were up to her, she wouldn't even be here. But the stakes were high, and her next move relied on her being here.

If anything sucked the most, it was that she didn't have her own room anymore: Her roommate, a human named Violet Sabrewing, had woken her up at 5 A.M with the blaring sound of her alarm.

"I like to start early when I study throughout the day," she said.

Lena had managed to get some sleep after being rudely awakened, but not much: It was 7 A.M., and now she had to be awake.

Dragging her legs out of the bed, Lena sat up and stared out of the window for a good five seconds: Everything about this place felt like Earth, but it also didn't. The Sun still rised and shined the way it did on Earth. It was a bit comforting to Lena.

"Late start?" Lena took this as some kind of a joke, but considering what had happened merely two hours prior, she didn't find it any funny. She flashed a glare at Violet before trudging out of the room into the bathroom in the hallway.

Five months ago, Lena felt like she had everything, that the life she had on Earth made her not even want to come here and find out about her roots. Now, she had virtually nothing, and that predicament forced her to be here.

Lena's eyes became fixated on her feet as she neared the bathroom day, replaying the past five months of her life over and over again in her head. The day it happened, the feelings of panic and hopelessness that swallowed her body, how lifeless she looked. It was hard to forget, it was an image that would be burned into her brain for the rest of her life.

Caught up in her mind, Lena didn't notice that there was someone leaving the bathroom as she was walking to enter it. Her body collided with another girl's, sending them both to the ground.

"Hey, watch where you're-" The girl cut herself off once she got a better view of Lena on the ground, "Wait, you're one of the new girls right? Don't tell me you're that human."

Word seemed to spread fast around here.

"You're thinking of Violet," Lena half-smiled, extending a helping hand to the girl once she pulled herself off of the ground, "I'm Lena. Nice to-"

The girl swatted Lena's hand away, glaring at her as she found her composure and stood up on her own. "Either way, watch it." Before Lena could respond to that remark, May stormed off.

Rolling her eyes, Lena pushed the bathroom door open and began her morning routine for the day. Great, Lena thought to herself, I've been here for less than 5 minutes and I already have a target on my head.

--

Lena could feel the eyes burning the back of her head as she took her seat for her first class. From the looks of it, Violet didn't seem to mind to curious and judgmental stares, but Lena hated it. Part of Lena wanted to tell them to find something else to stare at, but another part of Lena just wanted to sit in silence to not make her already rough start, any rougher.

The teacher hadn't entered the class yet, but Lena was sure that they'd ask her and Violet to stand up and introduce themselves, so Lena spent the down time she had now mentally preparing for it. Lena wasn't really a nervous person, but these stares she was getting from classmates whose names she didn't know yet, were enough to melt her into a puddle of timdity.

"Hi, I'm Webby!" Lena hadn't even noticed that this girl had walked up to her, but the piercing shriek she let out was enough to make Lena jumped out of her skin. "Lena." Lena responded sheepishly, looking over Webby's shoulder to notice the girl from the bathroom was shooting daggers at either her, Webby, or the both of them.

They looked exactly alike, so Lena assumed they were sisters.

"You're from the Earth, right? Oh, I have so many questions! What is it like on Earth? What are the animals like? Ooh, what is the foo-"

"Webby, enough," The girl from the bathroom cut her off, and Lena was somewhat grateful for it even though she knew a condescending comment would be following this, "I doubt it's anything interesting compared to what we have here. You don't need to drown her with your questions."

"May, you're no fun." Webby pouted, crossing her arms. She turned back to Lena, saying "It was nice meeting you though!", before she scurried back to her seat next to May and... another girl that looked exactly like them. Triplets?

Her attention on them being triplets was shortened when she went back to thinking about how off putting this May girl had been acting towards her. It soured her mood a bit, thinking about how this girl, for whatever reason, had to make it known that she thought she was better than Lena.

"So you're the human." May seemed to turn her attention to Violet, who just silently nodded in response. Lena felt no connection to this Violet girl, not enough to just mindlessly defend her anyways, but she wasn't opposed to kicking May off of her high horse in defense of her.

"What brings you here?" The other sister, whose name Lena had yet to catch, asked seemingly with innocent intent, "Do you have any powers?"

"Um....no... at least not yet," Violet murmured, fiddling with her hair, "I was actually recruited through the school." Webby and this other sister gave Violet looks of approval, but Lena couldn't help but notice the scowl on May's face.

"Not yet? What do you mean not yet? Either you're born with it, or you're not." May snickered, gaining questioning looks from both of her sisters, not that she seemed to particularly care. Violet bowed her head in embarassment, and that's when Lena decided that she had finally had enough of this May girl's attitude.

"What's your issue? This pretentious little mean girl role you're trying to live up to right now, really isn't a good look, you know." Judging from May's reaction, Lena could tell that this girl never had anyone stand up to her before, and that was just pathetic.

"Well thank god I'm not trying to look good for the likes of you." May hissed, and before Lena could get another jab in, the entire classroom was silenced by the arrival of the teacher.

"Welcome to the first day of the new semester." The professor looked like a character straight out of the kinds of old movies Lena's mom used to watch, her hair having flipped ends, and her red dress resembling the style of a Go-Go dress. The professor's prothestic arm, which seemed to be made completely from metal, caught Lena's eye, but it wasn't something she paid too much attention to. Her eyes drifted over to the sister, the one that wasn't May and Webby, and noticed how her entire demeanor changed once this professor entered the room.

"It seems like we have two new students here, Violet Sabrewing, and Lena Duckwell. Nice to meet you two, I am Professor Heron." Lena could've sworn she saw a smirk when the professor had read her name, but she was too busy feeling shocked that she didn't make them stand up and introduce themselves.

Lena's mother always told her that if she were to come back here, if she were to start a new life here, she'd have to conceal her identity. "Duckwell" wasn't the most creative fake last name, but something told her she couldn't exactly waltz in here with the last name "DeSpell". She never knew why she needed to keep her identity a secret, but she wasn't exactly trying to figure out, either.

"Students, you know that I am expecting nothing but the best work from you this semester, especially knowing what's ahead. Now, open your books to page 14..."

--

Lena went to school on Earth, so she knew how dreadful and boring the school days could be, but this first day really drained her of any energy she had left. She had almost ran out of the classroom as soon as Professor Heron dismissed them, and she waited for nobody.

"Hey!" Lena felt a tap on her shoulder, turning around to reveal none other than the other sister whose name she hadn't caught yet.

"Hey."

"My name is June, nice to meet you!" She extended her hand for a handshake, and Lena took it. This June girl seemed much nicer compared to May.

"Nice to meet you," Now that she was here, maybe Lena could get some clarity of the things from class she was still confused about.

"What did the Professor mean when she said something important was ahead? Is it a test?"

"I guess you could say that," June explained, "But really, it's the total eclipse. You know what that is right?" Lena shot her a look that said 'I'm not dumb.' Was it that obvious that she hadn't been touching up on her magic?

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I just didn't know if it's ritual on Earth like it is here!"

"So what do you do for it?"

"On Earth, the Total Eclipse only happens every 100 years, but here, it actually happens every 10 years. During the Total Eclipse, all magical forms at their highest level of power. So, the ritual is kind of made to celebrate that, but also to show off that power. But it's not any time soon, actually it's exactly three months away."

Three months? There was no way Lena could master the power that she did, in three months. She didn't even know what she was fully capable of, because on Earth, both her and her mom stressed her living a normal "human" life, and not using any magic. And the rare times that she did use magic, ended up in haywire. Surely, three months was not enough time for Lena to perfect her craft.

"Hmm, sounds like fun...."

"I wouldn't know, this is the first time I've actually been old enough to attend and participate in one!" June flashed a bright, friendly smile, and in a way, it sort of put Lena at ease. After all, she was the first person here that Lena was able to maintain a normal conversation with.

"Oh, and sorry about my sister earlier, she can be a bit.... overbearing," June said, her cheery tone of voice shifting into a more serious one, "But if it makes you feel any better, I'd take it as a compliment. It means she sees you as a threat." Lena sent her a halfhearted smile in response.

"Oh, thank you. That's... great." The last thing Lena wanted, was some onesided rivalry with a girl she barely knew and barely cared to compete with, especially given said person had the advantage.

Lena and June had reached the end of the corridor, preparing to part ways with each other.

"Well, it was nice talking to you! I'll try to... talk my sister down from whatever pedal stool she's on right now, but I can't guarantee it'll work!"

"As long as you try."

Lena did like this June girl: She seemed to be the middle man of her sisters, the overly hyper Webby and the overly confident May, and Lena thought it was nice. She was definitely the kind of person Lena would be friends with back home, if Lena allowed herself to have friends back home.

But based on the 15 second interaction she had with Webby, she didn't have any negative feelings towards her either: She just had a lot of energy that Lena hadn't dealt with before, and Lena wasn't all to sure she was willing to deal with that energy level now.

Lena had finally made it to the door of her and Violet's dorm room, unlocking the door. Violet was nowhere in near sight, probably utilizing the last couple of hours the library was still open for.

"Well, at least I have some alone time, for now." Lena sighed, flopping onto her bed.

She allowed herself to get lost in her thoughts, reflecting both on the events of today and what happened five months ago. Maybe this total eclipse was exactly what would give her the answers she needed. But for five months, she began seeking answers, trying to piece together what happened and who could've possibly done it. It was caused by Magic, and to her recollection, besides a family residing in Finland, her and her mother were the only magical beings on Earth. But nothing was adding up, and it was starting to look like she would have to figure everything out with the help of someone else.

Lena remembered staying temporarily with the family in Finland after everything had happened: They were familiar with her mother, but knew next to nothing about her. But they offered her shelter, food, and some support whenever Lena wasn't pushing them away, and that felt good enough until it started to feel like time was closing in on her. Until what happened to her mom, would happen to her. So she, with the help of the family, devised a plan to return to the Magical realm during the beginning of the new school year, to get more practice with her magic, and to find the culprit. She didn't know what she was expecting, but she felt a weight of disappointment that she had been here for all of three days, and not even the slightest new discovery appeared.

Suddenly, she heard the door unlock, and knew that Violet was back from her study trip.

"Back so soon?"

"No, I'm actually going back. I just forgot a book."

Lena hummed in response, turning her attention to her phone. There wasn't anything eventful going on social media wise, but it was better than the awkward and forced conversations she and Violet had so far.

"Also... Thank you. For sticking up for me today."

"Don't mention it." Lena sent a grin in Violet's direction, waving goodbye as she left the room again to return to her studies. Maybe Violet was the kind of person she needed on this case: She had no magical powers, at least to both of their knowledge, but she did seem to know an awful lot about the magical realm, especially compared to Lena herself.

It had only been 3 days since she was here, but she was already feeling the weight of the stakes: Lena had to do to whatever it took to avenge her late mother, even if it meant facing the culprit head on.

[suttttton]

Elias Bouchard vs. Destiny

Febuwhump, Day 4 (alternate): Identity Reveal

***

Working at the Magnus Institute is… surprisingly normal.

At best, Elias expects to see his own terror reflected in his coworkers’ eyes. At worst, he fears they will all be like Wright, their eyes cold and monstrous and hungry. He expects to be brought into a world of darkness, to face true monsters that ordinary people never imagined existed.

Were you drawn here? Against your will?—

Instead, his job is just… paperwork. Spooky paperwork, sure, but still paperwork. He talks to a lot of people on the phone, most of whom admit that the statement they gave was just a prank or a dare or whatever. Even the people who genuinely believe their experiences were real seem… more than a little unhinged.

“It saw me through the pages, it’s coming”—

He avoids James Wright, of course. It isn’t difficult. Wright spends most of his time in his office on the third floor, only occasionally coming down to visit Research. When that happens, it’s easy enough for Elias to excuse himself for a smoke break, avoiding Wright’s eyes the entire way. Elias doesn’t understand why his coworkers don’t do the same, although he imagines it would get very crowded in the alley behind the Institute if all of Research tried to take a smoke break at once.

The first time he sees his line manager return from a meeting with Wright, Elias watches her very closely, looking for… unease. Fear. Anything to reflect the way he feels whenever he so much as catches a glimpse of Wright in the halls.

She notices him looking, and smiles at him. No sign of distress in her whatsoever.

Elias returns to his work, but the moment sticks with him. She’d just spent thirty minutes having a meeting with a monster, and she isn’t the slightest bit disturbed.

Have you ever had an experience that you would consider supernatural?—

They don’t know.

All of these people who work here, who interact with Wright every day, and none of them know. Elias is the only one who sees it. Elias is… different.

Elias doesn’t get much work done, that day.

***

Two months later, Elias’s line manager informs him that he has a performance review scheduled with Mr. Wright.

His mouth is dry. “But—I thought you did my performance reviews.” He tries for a smile, but it’s weak.

“Mr. Wright likes to do an in-person review with everyone at the end of every quarter,” she says. She notices the look on his face, and softens slightly. “It’s no big deal. They usually only take five minutes or so. He just goes over the reviews I submitted, and asks if there’s anything he can do to improve your experience here.” She rolls her eyes. “Standard management stuff.”

“Okay,” Elias says, his voice faint. He has to go into that office again? Sit across from the thing that looks out from behind James Wright’s eyes, and just—what? Pretend he isn’t terrified?

Allan’s lifeless body—

What did they do with his eyes?—

“He won’t fire you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” his line manager says. Her voice is gentle, very different from the thinly-veiled annoyance she usually addresses him with. “Wright hasn’t fired anyone the whole time I’ve been here, and your reviews are fine. You’ll be okay.”

“Right,” Elias manages.

The day of the review, Elias seriously considers going to work high.

He decides against it. Wright would know, and then he’d smile and ask Elias some question that he isn’t prepared for, that no one would be prepared for.

What are you afraid of? A very sensible fear—

Elias wonders what would happen if he just—skipped the review. It would be rescheduled, probably. He could skip it again, obviously, but he isn’t sure Wright would tolerate a farce like that for very long.

So, at 2:00pm, he climbs the stairs to Wright’s office. By now, his terror has faded to a blank numbness, an acceptance that he can’t stop whatever is about to happen. He almost feels like laughing.

“Do you enjoy your work here?” Wright asks, after he’s seated and the little introductions are complete.

“Yes,” Elias says, and it isn’t even a lie. He does enjoy the work. He enjoys the variety involved in followup, enjoys chatting with total strangers on the phone. He gets along with his coworkers, and even his line manager is more tolerable than other bosses he’s had. He’d be planning his career here, if not for James Wright’s unfortunate presence. As it is, he’s just trying to survive each day.

“Is there anything about working here that you… hate?”

Elias is not going to tell James Wright that he hates him. He’s not. That’s clearly what Wright wants, leering at him as he is, but Elias refuses to engage with these games.

“Uh—The commute,” Elias says. “It’s a bit far from my flat, and taking the tube every day isn’t exactly the height of luxury.”

“Yes, I’d imagine it would be difficult for you, dealing with the unwashed masses every day.” Wright is still smiling in that cold, slightly-bored way of his. Like what he’s just said is a normal sentence, and not—

“So many gifts, and you’ve squandered them all”—

“What?” Elias’s voice is soft now.

“Do you miss the luxury?” Wright asks, his smile curling up into something more vicious, and Elias—

“Enough! Your friend died in a tragic murder, and it’s well past time you accepted that!”—

No, no, Allan knew what was going to happen, he told me—

“You had a bad drug trip. That’s all.”—

It wasn’t—I didn’t imagine this, there was a book and—

Elias gasps, suddenly back in the present. Wright’s expression is exactly the same. Elias is trembling. This shouldn’t—Wright shouldn’t be able to—What do these questions have to do with his performance?

“Are we done here?” Elias manages, his voice soft to hide its shaking.

“Not quite,” Wright says brightly. “There’s still the matter of your past reviews.” Elias’ review forms are stacked on Wright’s desk, and Wright picks them up, flicking through them. “In general, Lydia’s feedback is very positive, but there are a few concerning things here. You chronically miss deadlines, and on a few of your cases you’ve neglected to follow very promising leads.”

“I’ll try to do better.” Elias’ voice is flat, toneless. The numbness is returning.

“See that you do,” Wright says. “I hope to see improvement by next quarter.”

Elias nods.

What are they doing to his eyes?—

Wright dismisses him, and he makes his way back downstairs. He should return to his desk, return to his caseload that he’s been largely ignoring in favor of panicking about his review.

But he—can’t.

He goes to the alley instead, lights a cigarette with trembling hands. His shaky legs won’t hold him, even when he leans against the wall, so he ends up sitting on the ground.

The first sob forces its way up his throat, and then—he’s crying.

Sobbing on the filthy ground in the alley behind his less-than-respectable workplace. Pathetic. What would Father say?

Probably, “Elias, I’ll be happy to talk to you once you get help for your drug addiction.” Christ.

While he cries, Elias tries to think of what to do. He could quit, he supposes. But he really does need this job. His bank account had been full when his parents first cut him off, and there were provisions in the trust to provide for his needs when he was still in school. Now, though, his money really is running concerningly low. He needs the paycheck.

His tears are just starting to slow when the door opens. Elias starts, turns his face away, trying to hide the fact that he’s crying while hiding from his job.

“Oh—sorry,” she says. Elias recognizes the voice, they work together in Research. He can’t quite remember her name—Megan, maybe? “I can go, if you want some privacy.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he says, and his voice wobbles. If she didn’t already know he’d been crying, she definitely does now.

She sits down on the step just outside the door. “Um—are you okay?” she asks.

“I’m fine.”

“Right. Yeah, I also like to come out here and cry when I’m feeling fine,” she says, her voice light with humor.

Elias smiles slightly, and wipes some of the wetness from his face. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“I’m all ears,” she says. “Unless you really don’t want to talk about it, in which case, keep your secrets.”

Elias doesn’t respond to that. Doesn’t know how to reply, really. It would be nice, to talk to someone about it, but—It seems cruel, to force someone else into this mess. If she even believed him.

“I just—” She takes a deep breath. “Okay, this is going to sound really weird, but… We look after each other, in Research. A lot of the people who work here don’t really have support networks in our personal lives—ghost stories attract lonely people, I guess—so we try to support each other. So… if you need someone to talk to about this, you can talk to me.

Elias takes a breath. Might as well try. “Have you��noticed anything… off, about Wright?”

“Oh, you mean his whole mind-reading thing? Sure,” she says. She doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t take a moment to consider.

“I—yes,” Elias says, a little unbalanced. She knew? “The way he—drags up all your worst memories.”

“Oh yeah, he’s like that,” she says, wincing. “Did you just have your first performance review? Those can be kind of intense.”

He nods, uncertainly. She’s talking about this as if it’s completely normal.

“You’ll get used to it eventually,” she says. “In research, we like to make jokes about it. She wiggles her fingers at him. “'Ooh, I know everything about you,’” she says mockingly, pitching her voice down.

Elias doesn’t laugh. Just stares. “Aren’t you afraid of him?”

She laughs, really laughs, like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “What’s he gonna do, fire me? No. Why would I be afraid of him?” Then she sobers. “Are you afraid of him?”

Something sinks in Elias’s chest. He’d assumed that they didn’t know, that Elias was unique in being able to see Wright’s monstrous nature.

Turns out he’s just unique in being frightened by it.

He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Just—had a bad performance review.”

She nods in commiseration, and he excuses himself not long after. Returns to his desk, his heart loud in his ears. He looks around at his co-workers, all of them so happy, so careless. Why aren’t they afraid?

Why did you heed the call?—

He doesn’t know.

He can’t trust them.

***

He asks to be transferred to Artifact Storage, and his request is accepted, albeit with some strange looks. No one requests to go to Artifact Storage.

For him, it’s infinitely preferable to Research. The monsters in Artifact Storage are acknowledged, for one. Feared, treated with caution. Not allowed to run a so-called research institute. Not joked about. For two, the turnover rate is so high that he won’t have to deal with pretend camaraderie. He knows, now, that he can’t trust any of these people. He’s on his own.

For four years, he does his work, cataloging dangerous artifacts, sending the more junior assistants to do the more dangerous tasks. He doesn’t try to be good at his job, he doesn’t want to be good at his job, but after years of working in Artifact Storage, he is by far the most senior member of the staff. He starts to pick up a few tricks. He becomes knowledgeable. People respect him.

His line manager says he’s looking to transfer to the Library, and asks if Elias would like to be recommended for the promotion. Does he want to be Head of Artifact Storage?

He should say no, but some part of him that never quite managed to kill its ambition answers for him. “I’d be honored,” he says.

***

Meetings with Wright never get easier. In four years, he manages to drag up everything Elias would rather keep hidden, everything he doesn’t want to think about. Allan is a popular subject, as are his parents. And there’s always—

He cannot move. He cannot scream. What are they doing to his eyes?—

Elias doesn’t get used to it, and when Wright schedules a meeting with him to discuss his forthcoming promotion, Elias dreads it just as much as that very first performance review.

“I am very impressed with your progress,” Wright says, steepling his fingers over his desk.

“Thank you,” Elias says.

“Nearly five years in Artifact Storage,” Wright says. “I wouldn’t have guessed it, but perhaps I should have. You’re not a brave man by any means, but what does that matter, when you’re running from the most frightening thing you can imagine?”

What are they doing to his eyes?—

Elias swallows. There’s something heavy in the air. He always feels watched, in the Institute, in Wright’s office, but this is—different, somehow. Closer.

“If you were more curious, you actually might have guessed it. If you’d looked into the history of the Institute, investigated the men who preceded me in this position. You might have noticed certain similarities. You’re smart enough to have put the pieces together, but alas.”

—squandered—

“You never were the curious sort, were you? You were more interested in self-preservation than answers. Keeping your distance from anyone who might drag you away from your… destiny.”

Wright stands, and Elias flinches. “I-I don’t—” This is wrong. Something is wrong.

This is the place I know I should be—

But—

“What did you imagine was calling you here?” Wright says, and now he’s close, too close, towering over him. Elias wants to stand, want to retreat, but he doesn’t—He can’t move—

Wright places his hands on the two arms of Jonah’s chair, trapping him. Elias shrinks back, as far as he can get. “Did you think it was something noble, that you were destined to be a hero of light, to put an end to the sickness of this place? You would drive a knife into my eyes, killing the monster and setting everyone free?”

He doesn’t know what he thought. He thought he was destined for something better, to be something more than other people.

“You will be,” Wright says, leaning over him, too close. “Have you figured it out yet?”

He shakes his head wordlessly, a sob gasping from his throat.

Wright smiles. “James Wright didn’t either.”

***

When the thing that now controls his body takes over the Magnus Institute, they all think, nepotism at its finest.

Elias understands why he’s here, now. Understands the thing that called him here. Understands the many paths he could have taken, to reach a different end. Too late.

Elias’ eyes are carved out of his still-breathing body, and the Eye feasts on latent terror, cultivated so perfectly, for so long.

Elias is replaced, and no one misses him. He himself ensured that no one who worked with him knew anything about him. And everyone else is dead already.

James Wright is discarded. Elias Bouchard is taken.

Jonah Magnus lives on.

[livlepretre]

Ooh, let’s talk character interpretation! I have two questions, but they are both long, so I am going to do them in separate asks.

1.) I’m of the opinion that The Originals portrayed Klaus as a father in a way that doesn’t line up with how he actually is. I think that had more to do with the fact that it was a CW show, and they wanted a redemption arc for the character. Obviously they weren’t going to go for anything that could be misconstrued as actual child abuse- I.e verbal, emotional, or physical abuse. How do you think that Klaus with a child would actually be? Elena would protect her children at all costs, so I know she would take care of any problem she saw arising with Klaus’s parenting skills, but let’s for arguments sake say that Elena and her survival skills don’t factor into this. Klaus grew up dealing with every type of child abuse in the book. Her was demeaned, belittled, and physically beaten, and we know this is what started his psychological issues. I totally agree with your FE interpretation of the Mikaelson incest problem and the fact that it all stems from Klaus and his power issues. He wants to control Rebekah because he wants her to stay and love him above all and manupulation through sex factors into that. Sadly, this dynamic is a problem in the real world, and is extremely unhealthy, vile, and illegal—especially because Rebekah is around a decade his junior and permanently stuck in the mindset of a teenage girl (side note: I remember in FE, Rebekah says she gave her virginity to him. I’d love to hear your take on how that line was crossed and how many years after they had become vampires that this happened. It is certainly a moral line that is hard to cross, although they were born in the 10th century.) Klaus also won’t hestitate to hurt his family emotionally and physically when they upset him whether this is killing their loved ones or daggering them. I guess I just want to know if you think Klaus-who remembers being an abused child- would ever continue this pattern of behavior with a child of his own and if so, would there be lines he would refuse to cross? I feel like he wouldn’t intentionally start out doing abusive things (like how he didn’t immediately start abusiving his sibilings), but once he loses his temper and does something once, the lines of what he is willing to do get blurry. He’s definitely not a stable individual and is a creature of habit- especially when he starts to feel as though he isn’t being respected or when he gets ignored from those he wants to love him. Finally, do you think there would be a huge difference between Klaus raising a boy or girl? We saw how Marcel turned out (also, the dynamic between Rebekah and Marcel when she started out as an Aunt figure and turned into a romantic partner is something that I feel like was strange and very Klebekah in the 1920s weird where it was clearly there but no one ever chose to expand on it or even mention it in the narrative? But I digress!), and Klaus is clearly threatened by the fact that Marcel grew up and was able to take over Nola despite the fact that Marcel was just doing what Klaus taught him. He sees Marcel as a threat, but if he had a daughter, I feel like he would end up treating her sort of in a Rebekah like manner where she isn’t ever really viewed as a threat, just a girl throwing a trantrum. Idk, there is just so much to think about here and immortality definitely screws with your perception of what’s okay and what isn’t. I’m very curious to see how you think all this would play out long term.

You’re spoiling me with these questions and I pretty much agree with your thoughts on Klaus’s general fucked-uppery. 

I’ve put a great deal of thought into “Klaus as a parent,” both because of the show, and because of ficcish things. I think he’s acutely aware of all of the ways that his own father failed him, and so he would be actively really determined to have the kind of relationship with his own child that he never had with his father. His intentions there would be good, and probably better than his intentions with his siblings, since a child is a more direct extension of himself, but the question would be whether he is actually capable of being a good parent. It’s true that victims of childhood abuse often end up tragically rehashing the same patterns with their own children, but it’s equally true that many are able to break the cycle. I tend to think that Klaus would actually be exceptionally good with his children while they were still children. He shows in canon that he was very good with talking to Marcel and making him feel valued when he was a little boy still-- Klaus empathizes very well with children, and I think while he has tremendous difficulty understanding the emotions of others, at least when they are not mirrors of how he would feel, his own experiences of feeling neglect and belittlement and fear as a child would guide him in how to make a child feel loved, heard, special, etc. And of course, a child is able to give a parent the sort of unconditional, center-of-the-universe love that Klaus craves. The problem would come about in the transition from childhood to adolescence. His problems with Marcel, for example, stem from Marcel becoming a young man with ambitions and interests of his own-- no longer idolizing Klaus, no longer his shadow and perfect companion, but instead someone testing boundaries and breaking away. 

How Klaus handles a teenage and later an adult child is a more complicated question. Yes, I think he would ultimately have an easier time with a female child, because Klaus is a misogynist and could therefore slip into a familiar dynamic of treating that child as a pet-- he could shower her with gifts and affection and never take her too seriously, much like Rebekah. A boy would inevitably grow into a rival, I think... or, almost inevitably. Whether or not the son even construes himself as a rival would be irrelevant if Klaus decides he’s a rival. It’s that same problem as with Marcel all over again-- if he stays by Klaus’s side, it’s not an issue, but if he pursues his own life... The son thing is also hard, because that son would inevitably be, to Klaus, a direct reflection of himself, and I’m convinced that Klaus would desire nothing more than to create the kind of father/son relationship he badly desired... and so the expectations and pressures would be tremendous for a boy. 

There’s a big question to address along the lines of: would Klaus treat his adolescent/adult children the way he treats his siblings? It seems to me like the essential difference between sibling vs child relationships would be that Klaus, an actual narcissist, would inevitably see his children as extensions of himself, whereas his siblings each represent the greatest threats to his ego, his power, and his image of himself. He therefore exerts control over them, especially Rebekah, who is the easiest for him to control (as both the youngest and the only female, and also, since she is the most insecure and I would argue traumatized of all of them). He’s high-handed to the extreme, daggering them whenever he so chooses, therefore controlling whether they even get to actually live, deciding on which lovers are acceptable for Rebekah (and sometimes his brothers), dragging them all over the planet, lying to them all for centuries on end... the list goes on. There’s a lot of interpersonal violence there, but I would say that the one line he never crosses is that he never kills them-- because in his head he’s justified it as “I’m daggering this sibling for their own good” etc etc. (It’s interesting also to note that his siblings would be just as fast to dagger him should the opportunity arise.) Would he have the same need to exert his dominance over his children? Because, as father, his power over them is the natural order of things (especially in his medieval head). Whereas, amongst his siblings, yes, he’s the most special, but he’s also the third son and suffers from middle child syndrome, so it’s more about wresting power from the rest of them. Never underestimate how deeply medieval the thinking of each of the Originals is-- things like birth order definitely matter, and that’s definitely part of Klaus’s familial chaos. 

The strongest point of tension I could predict between Klaus and his children would be at the point when they are old enough to wish to exert their independence from him as individuals. I question whether Klaus would ever see that though, or be able to let them go. I think there could be an inevitable slide into methods of control-- lying “for their own good,” killing a daughter’s suitors to keep her from leaving the nest... no matter what, he would probably prefer for his child to find interests that kept them close to him. 

In terms of physical violence, I’m up in the air about that. It’s possible he could lose his temper and strike out at a child-- although, the more I think about it, the more I think that’s not how he lashes out so I don’t think that would be the issue. He daggers his siblings a lot but we don’t see him torturing them physically (I don’t think? I could just be blanking). There are times when they come to blows, but we see that with Damon and Stefan all the time... and that might just be a vampire thing in general. Most of what he does to them is really psychological torture/abuse and when he does have a violent fit, he tends to take it out on  those around the object of his furor, like every single one of Rebekah’s lovers whom he murders, or Katerina’s family. What would be the equivalent of daggering that he could do to his child? Lock him up in a dungeon? (lol if it’s Elena’s child, GOOD LUCK.) Maybe some other threat to hold over their heads? This would be totally situational though. I think he would be deeply regretful of ever striking his child (doesn’t entirely mean he wouldn’t, in the heat of the moment), but could justify other methods like imprisonment pretty easily. 

I think that just leaves the last awful stone to turn over: the incest. I don’t even know what to say about the Mikaelsons other than that there is definitely an incest issue in that whole family--  but especially with Klaus and Rebekah-- and honestly at this point Rebekah’s incest vibe with Marcel just sells their relationships to me even more. Of course she’s transposed that fucked-uppery onto Marcel. Like you mentioned above, and like I’ve developed in Fairytale Ending, Klaus’s incest with Rebekah is definitely a power thing with him-- he’s not in love with Rebekah, but she is his special favorite-- and part of that is that she’s the sibling he can control, through sexual dominance and appealing to her abandonment issues and insecurities (in a wild feedback loop with his own abandonment issues and insecurities). It’s awfully telling that the only lover he actually lets her have is Stefan... because Stefan is so clearly also his lover. (And that when faced with Rebekah x Marcel, he chose to dagger her and shelve the issue of oh no! I can’t kill my son! until it was no longer an issue) 

Personally, I don’t think there would be any parent/child incest issues with Klaus-- his incest problems don’t stem directly from his parent/child trauma, and we never get a hint of incest between him and Marcel, so, at least we can breathe a sigh of relief in this one facet of Klaus-as-father--  but I do think if he were to have multiple children he would be very suspicious of them and very hunted by the idea of their incest. 

I think that sums up my thoughts on Klaus as a parent/the possible ways he would fuck it up? 

I do think there’s a possibility it could go well-- obviously I daydream most about what a Klaus x Elena parent team would look like, which might actually work. As you said, Elena would cut any nonsense out right away. But also, I think that Elena is a true equal for Klaus, and one of the things about finding a real equal is that it lends itself to partnership-- which is what Klaus would need in a co-parent. Someone who could balance him and strengthen the parts of him that could be good at being a parent. His siblings definitively did not do that-- Elijah wasn’t interested enough, and Rebekah is ultimately too immature-- but Elena has a shot. So, despite all the ways it could go to non-proverbial hell in a handbasket, I think with the right circumstances-- a partner who would voluntarily choose to stay at his side, for example, thus eliminating so much of his neediness and extenuating control issues-- he could deal with that shift from child to adolescent to adult much better, and that foundation of a very strong parent/child relationship during the first decade or so could really help Klaus and his child’s relationship withstand any later turbulence. (Also, with Elena around as a co-parent, I kind of think instead of grooming a child to be some sort of feudal lord who could become a threat to Klaus’s sphere of power, she would encourage her kid to be... like... a veterinarian or something normal. And having that strong female role model would also go a long way toward forcing Klaus to give up his “over-bearing father to my precious jewel of a daughter” schtick....) So maybe my actual stance is “Klaus would be a terrible single-father, but he might be okay if he’s not the only parent in the picture/he has an adult meeting and grappling with his issues in a long-term committed relationship” 

(I think the final you asked about were my thoughts on Rebekah/Klaus in the FE timeline, which is basically just my headcanon in general... so, to start off, I don’t think the incest would have ever happened had they remained human. I think it’s a direct result of the trauma and psychosis they all experience from their transformations into vampires, which reifies all the problems they had as humans and exponentially makes it worse. And also, like you said, immortality seriously fucks with concepts of right vs wrong. Like, part of what’s wild is that nowhere in the canon does it say that vampires have to be monsters... it’s just that needing human blood to survive quickly turns into hunting humans, which turns into a psychological barrier between the vampire and humans... which eventually transforms them into monsters, callous, cold, playing with their food, hunting humans for sport, arbitrarily pulling them apart because they’re bored. So, becoming a vampire doesn’t instantly make one into a monster, but it does seem to inevitably precipitate becoming one down the line, and it’s just a matter of how fast the vampire arrives at that destination. To get back to the incest question, my thought was that the Originals would be already well down that road-- years past the death of their mother and fleeing their father, living as savages enslaved to their appetites and their flights of fancy, when that shift would occur between Klaus and Rebekah. Because by that point, what can possibly still be taboo? They’d already divorced themselves from their humanity, their inherent sense of “right” vs “wrong,” certainly any cultural understanding of it, so thoroughly that the barrier between sibling and lover must have felt thin and insubstantial as a bit of mist. I’m sure they were gradually heading that way for a while-- Klaus probably clung to Rebekah hardest of all, and Rebekah was so traumatized that telling the difference between different kinds of love would have been truly difficult. When I think about how long this might have taken, I imagine probably only about a decade-- long enough that it wasn’t immediate (they were still young, and time would have still passed at a human rate for them), but not long that Rebekah would have a chance to really start looking at all the men who might be potential lovers for her. It’s possible in fact that her interest in a human man could have precipitated Klaus changing things up with her. (And it’s very much explicitly about Klaus wanting to be #1 with Rebekah-- I think he slept with Tatia Petrova as a human, and I think he was sleeping around a good deal-- probably in a lot of gruesome ways, actually-- in that time before Rebekah became his lover.) What’s interesting to me here is that none of the other siblings-- especially Elijah, because Kol is shifty as fuck-- ever seemed to object. They just... accepted it? Rolled with it? That, to me, really demonstrates how deeply screwed up they all are.) 

[sitcomified]

we can’t make any promises now, can we, babe?

summary: impromptu peraltiago wedding one-shot set in the b99 season three finale  word count: 5.4k rating: general

read below or on AO3

A buzz of chatter spills across the bar. Jake, Amy, and Charles are reunited at last, sharing stories the past few weeks over cheap drinks on a sticky wooden countertop. Amy finally tells Jake she loves him so much and he reciprocates without second thought. Charles offers a knowing glance to Amy, but Jake’s phone buzzes before he can follow up.

“Ooh, I'm gonna get this.” Jake excuses himself from the conversation and answers the call from an unknown number on his phone.

“Jake Peralta? This is Jimmy Figgis.” He feels like his throat has been shoved down his stomach. Cases were never truly solved, and usually the perps harbored resentment, but he had never been singled out like this, on his personal phone number. His first instinct is to try to locate Figgis, but even if he wanted to track the call he couldn’t. The voice on the other end has been altered by a robotic filter, and the background noise is indiscernible. 

He hesitates for a moment before responding, “oh, uh, hey, dog.”

“You and Ray Holt took down my operation. Now I'm gonna kill you both.” Jake squints across the room in search of anyone remotely suspicious. Unfortunately, he could read too much into anyone when given the chance. He doesn’t recognize the new bartender, and he’s been less chatty than the others. There’s a lady squeezing her purse against her chest as she looks in his direction. His anxieties boil over in his throat as he tries to stammer out a response, but Figgis ends the conversation before he has time to interject: “later, dog.”

Jake’s hand is still shaking as he lowers his phone. His eyes dart around the room. “Uh, Captain Holt?”

“Peralta,” Holt says from across the bar, approaching the counter after politely excusing himself from an odious conversation with Hitchcock and Scully. His arrival catches the attention of Amy and Charles, who drop their conversation about where to find the best sundaes.

Jake scans the room once more before speaking in a low voice. “I just got a call. From Figgis. He knows that you and I busted his operation and he’s coming for us.” He sighs and his shoulders fall down with defeat.  Amy instinctively reaches for Jake’s hand. 

“Oh dear,” Holt replies. Even his ever-emotionless expression is disturbed by the news, with raised eyebrows and a slight frown. “Well that is certainly unfortunate.”

“What does this mean?” Amy asks, her voice trembling. Jake squeezes her hand, in a futile attempt to calm the storm of worst-case scenarios she’s piecing together. 

“We’re screwed,” Charles says, “don’t worry Jake, I’ll make sure to tell your story.” 

“We are not ‘screwed’,” Holt replies, “however, we should discuss proper procedure in a more private place.” He gestures to the couple making out at the table to their left. The group nods in agreement. “Go ahead to the precinct, I will meet you there.” He exits the conversation just as swiftly as he arrived, sparing no second in rallying his—albeit somewhat tipsy—squad.

The walk to the precinct is uncharacteristically somber. Charles doesn’t even comment on the fact that Jake draped his jacket on Amy’s shoulders the second they left the bar. The omnipresent breeze of arguments between neighbors, loud music, and traffic goes still and the only noises they can hear are their own footsteps, and the occasional sigh. 

The precinct is at least familiar, but laced with uncertainty as night shift officers occupy the bullpen. The trio make their way to the empty briefing room, which is fortunately unlocked. Amy takes a seat in the back, and Jake hops on the table next to her. Charles heads for the bathroom to face the consequences of the “Authentic Asian-Mexican Fusion” cocktail he tried earlier.

“It’ll be okay,” Amy says, gently stroking Jake’s palm. His blank gaze is fixed at the wall in front of him for minutes that seem like hours, and he still hasn’t said a word. Usually when he was worried, she couldn’t get him to shut up. Seeing him silenced sent an eerie chill across her. “At least for now, Figgis and his guys are way too smart to infiltrate an active precinct.”

He finally replies, “So you want me to live the rest of my life here?” He lets out a meek chuckle. “I think that would be worse than getting shot.”

“Oh, come on, it wouldn’t be that bad. I’d see you every day, you already eat most of your meals out of a vending machine, and the bathrooms are nicer than your apartment.” Amy jokes. 

“Hey, one day that will be our apartment, watch your mouth.” He cracks a smile. For just a moment he allows himself to forget about the immediate danger surrounding him and indulges in the idea of a daily life with Amy. They would order takeout and sit on the couch watching an action movie, and she would be curled up with her embroidery and he could smell her eucalyptus shampoo. Or maybe he'd learn to cook, and she'd put on another nature documentary, and he'd get to listen to her laugh at the stupid voices he did for the animals. He runs his fingers absentmindedly through her ponytail. That’s a life he would buy a million mattresses and toss his grey towel thousands of times over for. 

His fantasy is, however tragically, cut short by the Captain’s arrival. “Peralta, a word, in my office please.” Jake nods and follows him through the bullpen, without even bothering to greet any of the officers. It's as if he was watching himself enter the room, rather than actually experiencing it.

“Take a seat,” Holt gestures to the chair across from where Jake was standing awkwardly across the desk, and he hadn’t thought about sitting down. To be completely honest, he wasn’t entirely aware of the fact that he had a body. “I have contacted the U.S. Marshall’s office to make arrangements to send the two of us into Witness Protection. I know that this comes as a disappointment, but I believe that this level of security is necessary to avoid the threat.” 

The news hits Jake like a punch to the gut. It’s a new type of dread, one that’s crushing him in instead of pulling him apart. He had worked on high stakes cases before, but this was a new level of imminent danger. He’d always been able to talk his way out of any threat; the squad was always there to help him. Even without them, he could fend for himself. Hell, he survived six months undercover in the frickin mob. Jake clenches his fingers against the captain’s desk. “Captain, with all due respect, is that really necessary–”

“–I understand your hesitancy, but it is absolutely critical that we take the utmost caution, but this is non-negotiable. Our Marshall will be here in two hours. Sergeant Jeffords is on his way to brief the squad on necessary protocols right now.” 

“How long will we need to stay in WITSEC for?” Jake tried to reason with himself. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. It could be a couple weeks, a month tops. It would hurt like hell, but it’s nothing he couldn’t handle. If it was somewhere cool, then he could also get a killer story out of it.

“Indefinitely,” Holt responds, as if it was obvious and insignificant as the color of the sky. His answer severs the last thread holding Jake’s sanity together. He bangs his fists on the table.

“What the hell? You just assumed I would be okay with all this?” he shouts, “I can handle myself. I don't need to be babysat. I've been a detective for ten years!”

“Precisely, that's why I assumed you would react like an adult, and not like a petulant child.” Holt retorts. His dismissive delivery only fuels Jake’s anger.

“What did you expect me to do? I just got to see Amy for the first time in weeks and now my life is at risk because of some stupid case?” He pauses for a moment, recalling the ridiculous conversation from the briefing room moments ago. “Let me stay here, I’ll take down Figgis. I’ll even live in the precinct.”

Holt manages to convey a magnificent lack of amusement. “I don’t have time to deal with your immaturity right now. There are several arrangements I need to attend to, for your safety, If I may add.”

Jake’s heart is still pounding as he storms out of the captain's office. A pair of officers look up at him with concern before returning to their paperwork. He walks directly to the evidence lock up. As much as he wanted to squeeze out every last moment he could with Amy, he couldn't risk ruining it with some impulsive hot-headed remark.

He paces around the room before eventually landing on a box to rifle through. If he couldn’t address his feelings, he could certainly distract himself from them. It’s an old case—from before Holt became Captain. From what he could remember, the perp was busted for poisoning victims she catfished, and stealing their identities. When he opens the box, a puff of dust fills the air, hitting him with the heavy reality of just how much time had passed. He occupies himself by sifting through the contents of the box: the bracelet she used to store arsenic, the harddrives containing compromised information, and the perfectly crafted report that Amy had spent their whole lunch break editing. He really didn’t know how lucky he was then. He spent every day with the most wonderful woman alive and wasted it by teasing her.

Suddenly, he hears footsteps. He would recognize Amy’s awkward clunking in her “going-out heels” anywhere. Even if he was deep undercover all the way across the country. “I knew I’d find you in here,” she greets him, standing in the door frame with a bunched up tissue in hand.

“It’s like you’re a detective or something,” Jake says. He aims for the light flirtatious tone that the two have grown so accustomed to, but it comes out too aggressive for either of their comfort. 

Amy hesitates before clearing her throat and approaching him. She closes the lid and returns the box of evidence to the shelf, and reaches an arm across his back. She notices Jake’s widening eyes, slowing heart rate, and just as he opens his lips she accepts his implicit apology. “This is stressful, I understand.” She pauses and Jake can hear the soft popping of her lips; she's choosing her words very carefully. “I was thinking. Figgis will take a while to track down. I can’t let you go alone for that long.”

Immediately Jake tenses back up. He felt that they were in an awkward stage relationship wise, even before Amy went undercover. He worried she thought that he was moving too fast too soon. That he wasn’t serious or responsible enough. He can’t stop himself from vocalizing his anxieties. “Ames, are you breaking up with me?”

Luckily for him, Amy looks equally horrified at the idea. “No, the opposite, actually—” she takes a deep breath, as Jake violently racks his mind for what that could possibly mean,“—I think we should get married. I know this is all really soon and we haven’t hit all the relationship milestones, but WITSEC only allows contact with immediate family, and after what we just went through I can’t imagine—”

He interrupts without a second thought. “—Duh-doy, of course I’ll marry you.” 

Although the proposal was a mere technicality, excitement washes over the room. Amy launches herself at Jake with wide-open arms. He squeezes her tightly and lifts her up. Figgis was still on the loose and his life was still in jeopardy, but it all seemed insignificant when he knew Amy would be by his side. He slowly lowers her down onto a pile of boxes. With their faces pulled back from each other, Jake can actually see Amy’s brilliant smile. He almost feels guilty for dampening it. “Uh, the Captain said the Marshall would be here in two hours, and everything’s closed.”

Her eyes are illuminated by that specific laser-focused excitement  that was reserved for completing a crossword puzzle, or, choosing a new notebook, or, someone concerningly, receiving praise from her captain. “Leave that to me,” she says. 

Jake can barely muster a response as Amy races to her desk. “You’re my dream girl.”

“I know,” she replies from across the precinct, no doubt doing one of her lovable dork dances from behind the door. The officers must assume that they’re somehow crazier than they already do, but Jake doesn’t care. Amy’s voice is still echoing in his ears when he returns to the captain’s office. His senses return to him, and he’s even grateful for the precinct’s faint smell of metal and burnt-coffee. 

Holt seems to have calmed down from earlier, or at the very least, he’s so immersed he can’t be bothered to deal with Jake’s crap right now. He has a pile of binders on his desk and his reading glasses are on the verge of sliding off the tip of his nose. Seeing Holt in serious action almost makes Jake feel guilty for acting out earlier.

He enters the room awkwardly, and Holt looks up from a particularly thick file and clears his throat. “Detective, I noticed you and Santiago were conversing. I trust that you have sufficiently addressed any emotional concerns this process might have, given the romantic nature of your relationship. I understand that the prolonged separation can be quite challenging to navigate. Kevin and I recently had quite an emotional conversation ourselves.”

“Hello Kevin, it is I, your husband Raymond Holt.”

“May I inquire about the occasion? This is a rather unusual time to call.”

“I agree it is quite unorthodox, but this news is urgent. I just completed a very dangerous case and my life is in danger. I am headed into a Witness Protection program indefinitely.”

“I understand. I am quite disappointed by this news.”

“As am I.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Jake replies. In any other circumstance he would declare his eternal love for Amy from the top of the Brooklyn Bridge, making sure that the whole city could hear. But, although he would never admit it, he cares just as much about the Captain’s approval as she does. Whenever he imagined proposing to Amy, years down the line, he knew it would be elaborate and tasteful (to the extent he was capable of it) and when both of them were ready. He knew that’s what Amy deserved, and Holt knew it too.

“Pardon?” Holt takes his eyes off the monitor and folds his arms, and Jake feels as if he’s being interrogated. Through the glass, he watches Amy at her desk frantically typing and scribbling down notes.

He purses his lips in anticipation. He doesn’t have time to do a bit or give a fake story to dull the big news like usual, and that makes the ripping off of the bandaid even more painful. “It is possible that Amy and I maybe just decided to get married before the Marshall gets here.” 

Holt opens his mouth with a slight indication of confusion, before swallowing a gulp of air. “I see…and you’re sure that you will be able to file the requisite paperwork in time?” An entirely unremarkable—and characteristic—reaction to the situation. No hints of judgement or celebration, just an acknowledgement of simple facts. Jake supposes that he filed any emotional response away to be processed at a later point.

“Don’t worry sir, we have a plan,” Jake assures his still-skeptical Captain. “Well, Amy has a plan,” he clarifies, and Holt indicates marginal relief. 

Holt sighs, “I know I am not one to talk you out of your schemes—”

“—It’s not a scheme, it's a plan, and it’s a great one. Amy and I are going to go to whatever craphole state the Marshalls send us to, solve the case in no time and then make out 24/7,” Jake says with a new rush of adrenaline. 

“As I was saying, you seem to be quite confident,” Holt continues,  “which is why I’m not going to attempt to negotiate with you. You are excellent detectives and you clearly care a lot about each other. Congratulations to you both.” He gestures to Amy, who has her face nearly pressed to the glass behind the shades, as she tries to listen to their conversation. “Santiago, you may enter.”

Amy almost trips on her way into the office, and Jake greets her with a hug, “Did you hear that? The Captain approves!” 

Her face floods pink, undermining her already futile efforts to maintain composure. “Thank you sir, it means a lot.”

“Of course. It’s highly enjoyable to see a couple as compatible as yourselves.” Jake has to bite his tongue to avoid mocking his word choice. “Now, given that time is of the utmost essence, I urge you two to go home and gather personal documents. I’ve already spoken to the night shift’s Sergeant, and he has agreed to lend officers to escort each of you.”

“We need to get all the marriage paperwork sorted out, I can just stay here,” Jake adds, turning to his girlfriend, “Amy, all my important stuff is under my beanbag chair.” 

“That's why it's so lumpy!” 

“I’m sure Detective Boyle would be more than happy to help out with your nuptials,” Holt replies, pushing aside his disgust with his Detective’s living situation. “Here is a list of things that the Marshall will need,” he hands over two slim printouts from one of the many binders on his desk. “You are dismissed.”

“Thanks,” Jake says, flipping through the sheets. He would be so screwed trying to find this all in his apartment. 

“See you on the other side, babe,” Amy whispers as she leaves the office.

“See you on the other side,” Jake says, planting a soft kiss on her forehead before heading downstairs.

///////

One hour later.

Amy returns to the precinct with a sleek folder containing every document the Marshall requested. While gathering her necessities, she changed into her old graduation dress. It’s knee length with cap sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, not nearly formal enough for the wedding she had several binders dedicated to, but for all she cared she would marry Jake in sweatpants and grandma glasses. 

Her jaw drops as she enters the break room.  As it turns out, Charles wasn’t the only one in the squad ecstatic about a Peralta-Santiago wedding, even if it was just a formality. As soon as the rest of the squad found out, they volunteered to help in any way possible. Rosa took her motorcycle to the City Clerk’s office where she obtained a Marriage Certificate and License, though she wouldn’t disclose how she got into the locked rooms. Terry convinced his neighbor who worked in the State Court to begrudgingly sign a letter authorizing the marriage in under 24 hours (“Theirs is a love story for the ages, for the ages Margo!”) Hitchcock and Scully even rearranged the furniture to form a sort of mock-chapel although it didn’t help that Scully was asleep on one of the couches in the back.

Charles himself went full-Boyle. The room is decorated with a beautiful miss-match of flowers from the 24/7 bodega down the street, and soft classical music was playing over the precinct’s sound system. It’s enough to make the holding cell containing a single perp with thirteen charges of public urination seem miles away. “Amy!” he turns around when he sees her, letting the banner of post-it's he’s hanging drop to the floor. 

“Charles, this is incredible!” Amy exclaims. 

“Thank you, it's not the wedding I dreamed about for you two,—that one has far more exotic birds involved, both for eating and for pleasure,—but I figured it was my job to step up as Jake’s de facto best man,” he says, pulling her into a hug. “If you hurt him I swear to god I will make you suffer for the rest of your life,” he whispers into her ear.

Amy pulls back hesitantly, “yeah, of course I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Jake.” She laughs, but no one joins.

“Seriously, we mean it,” Rosa adds, her tone somewhat undercut by the bouquet of roses she’s tying together.

“Everybody, leave Santiago alone, she’s not going to do anything,” Terry says, but his authority is undermined by the mouthful of tape from hanging up decorations. 

At that moment Jake walks in, “Leave Santiago Alone, She’s Not Going To Do Anything: title of Amy’s sex tape.” He’s changed into a white button up shirt under his leather jacket and dark jeans. His red tie and scuffed sneakers match the flower petals around them. Charles must’ve coordinated this, Amy thinks. He looks so handsome that she forgives the insult. Besides, they both knew he wasn’t speaking from experience.

“Dude, you’re literally getting married,” Rosa says, as Jake rolls his eyes. He saunters over to Amy and gives her a quick kiss. She takes his arm around her, and they walk to the back of the room for a semblance of privacy, taking a seat on the couch opposite Scully.

“Hello future wife,” Jake greets Amy. 

“Hi future Mr. Santiago,” she responds, with a slightly smug smile.

“Wait, what are we going to do about last names? Should we hyphenate?” Jake asks, frazzled. He’s still processing everything that’s happened that day. 

“We can work all that out later, but it would make paperwork a nightmare,” Amy says, as she tucks a tiny curl behind his ear. It immediately bounces back. Jake smiles at her. Of course she could still be thinking about paperwork at a time like this.

“I know it’s cliche, but I really do feel like the luckiest man on Earth,” he says. 

“Well you are being targeted by one of the countries largest crime families, so I guess it evens out.” Jake looks away in response, and Amy bites her lip. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up, I just thought with everything—”

“—No, it’s fine,” Jake says, and he quickly pulls back his frown. At some point over the past evening (early morning, really) Jake had allowed himself to believe that this marriage was forever. That it was the next step in the infinite journey they would share or whatever. His stomach churned at the nagging idea that this was just a loophole for Amy to work a case with him. 

“Babe, is everything alright?” She turns to face him, and he realizes the uncharacteristic length of his silence. 

“After all this is over—if it’s all over—are we going to stay married?” he asks, not quite able to make eye contact. 

“Is that what you want?” Amy counters.

“Maybe,” Jake responds. He definitely knows what he wants, but he tiptoes around putting Amy in a precarious position. The last thing he wants is for her to feel compelled to stay married to a guy she’s only been dating for a year. Instead, he returns the question, “is that what you want?”

She pauses for a second to think. “I want a proper wedding. With my family and everything—I think my mom would kill me if I didn’t. But I want to marry you. Preferably not in a police precinct though,” she adds. Now it’s her turn to avoid his gaze.  

“I want that too,” Jake smiles in agreement, “Although a precinct wedding doesn’t seem that bad. Terry’s kids could be our flower girls.”

“That would be adorable,” Amy says.

“Do you think Sarge could bring them in now?”

“Jake, it’s the middle of the night on a school night,” Amy reminds him. Stupid reality always getting in the way of his great ideas.

“Right,” he pauses, and then lets out a laugh. “I love you, Ames.”

“I love you too, Jake,” she says, with her head on his shoulder. He wishes that they could stay like that forever, but time (or, to be more precise, his captain’s anal scheduling practices) were not on their side.

Amy explains all the different forms they have to sign and Jake watches her carefully scan each line and write her name in font-like handwriting. She feels Jake’s leg shake underneath the table and lays her warm hand against his knee to calm him down. He picks up a pen from the floor and adds his name next to hers. He takes a moment to appreciate the smooth black ink from her favorite fountain pen next to his skipped blue-rollerball scrawl. 

“Alright, we’re married,” Jake announces, going in for a high five. Amy looks at him with disbelief, and Charles takes the opportunity to cut in and slaps his palm. The rest of the squad joins them around the table, except Hitchcock has fallen asleep on Scully’s lap.

“I can’t believe it,” Rosa shakes her head, “someone actually agreed to spend the rest of their life with Jake.”

“Hey,” Jake protests, “that’s my wife.” He looks up at Amy with his adoring heart eyes and she feels a flutter in her chest. It was the first time she was referred to like that, and he didn’t even use the Borat voice like she expected.

“Whatever. I’m happy for you dorks,” Rosa says and she’s just drunk enough not to hide her smile. “This is unacceptable,” Charles interrupts, “I mean all this work, all this build up—years of watching your heightening sexual tension—just to sign a few papers? At least give us the vows.” He gestures around at the decorations to emphasize the point.

Jake is about to butt in about how it’s not for him, and if they were able to they would celebrate more, until Terry adds on. “I agree with Charles! Terry loves love.”

“Eh, seems like a good way to kill twenty minutes, babe, you in?” Jake turns towards Amy. 

“Why not?” she says. 

“Yes!” Charles exclaims, “I can officiate, I’ve had my speech written for years. How familiar are you with the different types of tentacles?” Amy and Jake exchange horrified glances, and Jake gets ready to talk his friend down. “I’m just kidding, about the tentacles,” he clarifies, although Amy isn’t entirely convinced.

“Am I going to be able to stop you?” Jake asks.

Charles is already running to his computer when he replies, “Not in a million years!” Terry soon follows him outside, inviting every officer to come watch the ceremony. Rosa tries to wake up Hitchcock and Scully with a gentle nudge before eventually slapping them awake.

In the meantime, Jake and Amy stay at the table. They’re both exhausted from the events of the day, and Amy tries to stifle a yawn as Jake asks her nonsensical questions about life in WITSEC. “What do you want your undercover name to be? I’m thinking Larry Sherbert.”

Amy rolls her eyes, “I’m not taking the last name Sherbert.”

He smiles, “that’s right, because I took yours, Rainbow.” 

“You want my name to be Rainbow Sherbert?” she responds incredulously.

“Yep, you had hippie parents,” he explains. She’s about to tell him to knock it off, when Captain Holt enters the room. Amy instinctively straightens her posture and smooths out the front of her dress.

Holt lays the bottle of champagne he’s holding on the table, “This is from my miniature fridge. I was saving it as a mentor-to-mentee gift for when Santiago passed the Sergeant's exam, but this occasion seems equally appropriate.”

“Thank you sir. This is too kind,” Amy says, in the most formal voice she can muster. 

“Of course,” Holt says, “It is a customary gift between workplace associates such as ourselves.” Jake shifts his puzzled gaze between his wife and his Captain. He loved them both, but couldn’t for the life of him decipher their relationship.

Terry and Charles return and a few officers trickle into the chairs in the back. Holt takes a seat in the front row, next to Rosa, and Amy and Jake join Charles in the makeshift archway between the vending machines. 

“This is the happiest day of my life,” Charles whispers, putting his arms around Jake and Amy. 

“Because you found out you were adopting a child, right?” Jake checks. 

Charles blushes, “yep, totally that. I’m going to be such a responsible dad.” He rifles through his papers one last time, “Ok I’m ready whenever you are.”

Amy glances expectantly at Jake who gives her two sharp thumbs up. “I think we’re good!”“Alright let’s get this party started!” Charles announces. His volume catches the attention of the crowd, and the chatter dies down. “We are gathered here to celebrate the union of the two most magnificent people I know: Jake Peralta and Amy Santiago. Many of you have had the privilege of watching Jake and Amy’s relationship blossom from the overly competitive co-workers who drove us crazy with their constant bickering, to the glorious sight it is today.” He continues his speech, skipping over entire pages that have been crossed out, containing metaphors everyone is undoubtedly thankful not to hear. “To Jake and Amy, partners in crime solving, and now also, partners in life!” 

The room applauds, and Jake takes the time to dab at the tears he was holding back during the speech. “We come now to the words you’ve all been waiting for. Before you declare your vows to one another, I want to hear you confirm that it is indeed your intention to be married today. Jacob Zachary Peralta, do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to Amy Maria Santiago in marriage?”

Jake and Amy share a mischievous glance, realizing he never told Charles his actual middle name. He’s about to bring that up, along with the fact that none of the day’s events were remotely close to his intentions, but he gets the sense that Amy wouldn’t be happy if he derailed the ceremony. Instead, he smooths out his tie and confidently says, “I do.”

“And Amy Maria Santiago, do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to Jacob Zachary Peralta in marriage,” Charles continues, oblivious to their antics.

“I do,” Amy smiles. 

“Please face each other and hold hands,” Charles says,  pulling two silver bands out of his pocket. Amy looks at Jake with confusion and he mouths the words beanbag chair. Charles instructs the two to repeat after him as they place the rings on each other’s fingers. The whole ceremony starts to blur in Amy’s mind as she realizes Jake already had this ring that somehow slid perfectly on her finger.

“And now, by the power invested in me by the state of New York, it is my honor to declare you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride!” Charles declares, tossing his papers on the ground for dramatic effect. Jake reaches his arm around Amy’s back in an attempt to dip her as some grand romantic gesture. She fumbles a little and ends up standing up and pulling her head up to his until their lips meet in a warm, invigorating kiss. Both of them chuckle as they pull apart. A few of the officers take that as a cue to return to the bullpen.

“It’s my grandma’s—the dead one’s,” Jake explains, pointing to Amy’s ring, “—and that’s like the one Peralta marriage that wasn’t a total failure so I thought it would bring good luck or something. Plus, you know the crushing debt.”

“It’s perfect,” Amy says, examining the carefully carved diamonds.

Captain Holt rises from his seat and reaches for the bottle of champagne, announcing a toast. As he starts to open the bottle, the cork goes flying across the room, shattering the vending machine glass. Hitchcock and Scully race towards the rubble to steal some free snacks. It’s at that moment that the Marshall, who unbeknownst to the squad had been waiting outside the Captain's office, decides to examine the break room and investigate the noise. 

There’s a moment of silence, interrupted only by the fizzing of the overflowing champagne. Amy feels her stomach churning as if she’s somehow in trouble. Holt is at a complete loss for words. At last, it’s Charles who speaks up, hesitantly saying “Mazel Tov?”

[ohshit-itsyagorl]

Four Dipshits and a Michelle

Part 1 

Hey, Loves! This is a fanfiction I’ve been working on recently. Hope you like it!

Summary: Michelle never believed in soulmates. But what happens when she turns seventeen and gets her mark? What happens when she inevitably finds the person with the matching tattoo? And what is she supposed to do with Peter Parker. Her best friend in the whole world. Her crush. Someone she feels drawn to for some inexplicable reason.

Michelle Jones never understood the infatuation human society had with soulmates.

As a little girl full of hopes and dreams, she admits she was rather fond of the idea: someone out there who was perfect for her, someone who she could share her life with, her soul-bonded partner.

Until her mom got sick. And her dad started treating his wife like his own personal punching bag and then left them with barley enough money to get by. And that sucked, but Michelle could deal with it. She really could.

(But she was not okay.)

But after that initial honeymoon phase, after seeing a relationship that was supposedly written in the cosmos fall apart, she was wrenched back to a sad, logical reality.

After giving up on her soulmate, she found it grating how often it came up in seemingly normal discussion.

This, Michelle thought, was rather ridiculous, considering they were all freshman in high school, and wouldn’t be turning 17 for at least two years, three for most of them.

When she woke up on the morning of February 27th, she was not expecting the day to be anything special or different.

Trudging to the bathroom, half asleep with hair in her mouth, she thought she might pass out. Damn her for opting to take the PCB (physics, then chemistry, then biology) route instead of being normal like almost every other kid at Midtown Tech.

The only bonus to PCB was that she had the same kids in her science class every year. Betty and Cindy and Ned and Peter. The only downside was Flash, who was insufferable on the very best of days. He was also on the PCB track.

(Ugh.)

Point was, Michelle had stayed up super late the previous night studying for a massive test with Peter and Ned, and she was absolutely exhausted.

(Physics could be a bitch sometimes.)

“Hey, Sweetie, how did you sleep?” Her mom was laying on the couch, nose shoved into her book, right arm hooked up to an IV. When Michelle didn’t answer immediately, she looked up and let out a soft oh. “Rough night?” She asked.

Michelle sighed. “Yeah. Big test today. Studied with the losers last night.”

“Well, good luck, honey.” MJ started walking toward the door. “Oh, and, Michelle? Don’t call your friends losers.”

Michelle ran a hand through her hair, the chocolate curls a tangled mess perched atop her head.

————————————————————

“Hey, MJ.” Michelle looked up to see Peter waving at her, toothy grin and glasses and a dark blue sweater. She narrowed her eyes, shaking her head. Too early, Idiot.

Physics went as well as could be expected. Lunch was a different story.

“I can’t wait,” Betty said dreamily. “I wonder what they’ll look like.”

“I wonder what my soulmark will be,” Ned said, looking up from his English notes. “With my luck, it’ll be worse than that senior with a foot tattooed down the right side of his face.”

Michelle snorted. “Yeah, maybe it’ll be a giant dick or something.”

“Maybe yours’ll be a unicorn, MJ. You know, to match your personality,” Ned fired back.

She stiffened, looking around at the group. ‘‘I don’t want a soulmate,” she muttered.

“What? Why not?” Cindy exclaimed, her eyes almost comically wide.

Peter looked up at that. His glasses had fallen down his nose considerably, and he shoved them back up his face. Dork.

Michelle shrugged. “I just don’t. They’re pointless.”

“Well,” Peter started, “maybe one day you’ll change your mind.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not likely, Parker.”

“Tell that to your soul-bonded partner.”

A soft chorus of oohs echoed from the Table around her. She needed new friends.

“Whatever. Even if I find my soulmate, I’ll just avoid them like the plague. Shouldn’t be that hard with all my practice when it comes to you lot.”

Peter let out a small uh-huh, and went back to whatever the hell it was he was doing.

It wasn’t like she and Peter didn’t argue. As best friends, it was kind of part of the job description. But Peter and Ned already knew how she felt about soulmates and soulmarks. Michelle was surprised he had pushed her on that front. Weird.

She cleared her throat.

—————————————————————

Sophomore year rolled around, and with it came Academic Decathlon. Michelle befriended Liz almost immediately. She was so nice, and perfect, and smart.

About halfway through the year after a field trip for AcaDec, Peter missed school for over a week. Something about catching a bug on the trip. On day 10, Michelle went to his apartment.

May opened the door. “Oh, hey, MJ! Peter is in his room. He’ll be glad to see you,” she said, a smile gracing her face.

Michelle walked past May with a small nod of acknowledgement. When she entered Peter’s room, she was fairly surprised to see that he, in fact, did actually look very sick. He was on the floor covered in sweat and shaking.

“Ohmigod, Peter! Are you okay?”

“Oh, MJ. Didn’t know you cared. How sweet of you,” he managed through chattering teeth.

“I don’t, Loser. Here,” Michelle leaned down, “let me help you to your bed.”

“No!” Peter scrambled backward over a pile of schoolwork, the pages sticking to his hands. The sweat, probably, thought Michelle

She quirked an eyebrow.

“I, uh—I don’t want to get you sick, is all,” he explained.

“Whatever, Loser,” she said. “I brought you your schoolwork, so… here you go.” She dropped the stack onto his unoccupied bed, spared Peter one more glance, shrugged, and turned to walk out of the room.

“MJ, wait. Thank you, for, uh, for the schoolwork.”

She flipped him off on the way out the door. Weirdo.

Peter started changing after that. He started filling out his shirts more. She figured he had started working out or something.

Not that she was looking at him. Because she wasn’t.

He no longer wore glasses, and dropped out of marching band and robotics club. He disappeared at nationals, showing up only for the ride home after the fiasco at the Washington Monument (of all the times to gain a rebellious streak AcaDec nationals was not the time or the place). Michelle glared at him nonstop for a week after that.

People started avoiding the topic of soulmates and soulmarks around her, knowing it was a touchy subject.

Over the course of the year, Michelle grew closer to Peter and Ned than the other kids in Acadec.

—————————————————————

“MJ?” Peter looked back at her from where he was squatting down in front of the DVD player. He was wearing sweats and a math pun t-shirt that stretched tightly across his chest. His arms across his legs were lithe and muscled. How had she never noticed before…

And she was staring. Michelle blushed furiously. Peter smirked. She flipped him off. He chuckled.

“What do you want?” She asked. His hair was gelled back like every day, but it was a bit mussed, falling onto his forehead. Her blood heated. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, wondered how soft it would be.

Peter ran a hand through said hair, biting his lip. “Have you—uh—have you ever seen The Princess Bride?” He asked.

MJ rolled her eyes. This boy. “Bits and pieces. I was never really interested in that mushy, gushy, sappy shit. Besides, we are not watching that.”

“Uh, yeah, we are. It’s simply tragic how your previous social circle failed you,” he said, scrunching his nose up. It was cute annoying.

Michelle squinted at him, mouth becoming a thin line. He smiled back innocently. She flipped him off. Again.

She relented in the end.

Peter hopped up next to where she was sitting, stretching his arms up and over the back of the couch. Michelles’s eyes snagged on the bit of exposed skin where his shirt had ridden up. Were those… abs? She shook her head, looking back toward the now-glowing TV screen. Her nerdy best friend Peter Parker could not have abs. But.

Michelle had to admit that the movie wasn’t actually as bad as she had initially thought. The reason for that was mostly Peter. The absolute dweeb was acting out the fight scenes with himself. Watching Peter try and punch and defend himself at the same time was pretty funny.

MJ looked over at Peter during the end of the movie. He was looking at her.

“Why don’t you believe in soulmates?” He blurted, then proceeded to clap a hand over his mouth. “Shit, I’m sorry. You really, uh, really don’t have to answer that.”

And maybe it was the laughter they had shared together. Maybe it was the way she felt safe around him, or how his hair curled behind his ears, but, “My parents were soulmates. It—it didn’t work out."

That was all she was willing to share.

Peter nodded, swallowing thickly and looking back to the movie. “I think Ned’s right,” he said. Michelle raised an eyebrow at him. He cleared his throat, “Your soulmark is definitely going to be a unicorn. Or a pegasus. Or a rainb—”

“Shut up, Parker.”

Peter raised his hands defensively, grinning.

They talked for another hour, but Peter couldn’t seem to drop the conversation about soulmates.

“Hey, MJ?” He said, giving her a curious look.

Michelle hummed.

Peter ran a hand through his hair. With all the posing while acting out the movie, it looked like he had just gotten out of bed. Maybe even just had—

No. Best friend. Peter was her best friend. Nothing more.

“On your birthday,” he ventured, “when you get your mark, will you tell me about it? We could, like, make fun of each other’s or something. Once I get mine, that is.”

Michelle hesitated. Then: “Sure, okay. Yeah, that sounds good.”

Peter beamed at her and her heart did a backflip. It was worth talking about her soulmark to see that smile, different from his usually timid upturned lips. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Awesome! What are best friends for if not to make fun of shit,” he said.

Best friend. The words stung a bit, even if they were true.

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

Junior year came faster than any of them expected, and with it, standardized testing. Michelle was sad that Liz had moved away the year prior when her dad was caught selling alien technology illegally, but she was excited to be team captain this year. She, Peter, and Ned had all celebrated with aLord of the Rings movie marathon, but over the past few months, Peter and Ned had been sharing hushed conversations. MJ wasn’t sure what was going on, but it made her feel kind of shitty—like she was being pushed out of their friend group.

But then Peter would shoot her a shy smile, and she would feel a little better. There was definitely something going on, though.

Betty got her mark over the summer—a small cat’s eye in the palm of her left hand—but she had had no luck finding the person with the matching tattoo, much to her chagrin.

Michelle truly felt like she was rocketing toward her birthday. Somehow, she and Peter had found a way to turn her soulmate into a bit of a joke, which helped. A little.

That’s how Michelle found herself on the phone with Peter, wearing a tank top and shorts in the middle of winter, watching the seconds tick down to midnight.

“I’m so excited,” Peter said over the phone. “I can’t wait to see if it’s a unicorn or a pegasus.”

“Can it, Parker,” Michelle snapped. She was strangely terrified, though she wasn’t sure why.

“Okay, Magic Princess Unicorn—”

“I mean it, Pete.”

“Ten seconds, MJ.”

“Shit,” she whispered, hands shaking as she hastily put Peter on speaker, and set down the phone, turning to face the floor-length mirror.

“Do you see anything?” He asked. Did he sound… nervous?

Michelle scanned her arms and legs in the mirror, turned around and did the same on the back. “Fuck.”

“What?” Peter said, voice crackling over the phone. “What is it? Is it a Unicorn?”

“No,” Michelle gasped out. “I don’t see anything.”

It was true she didn’t want anything to do with her soulmate, but it did hurt that she didn’t even have one.

She let out a sob, then slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

“MJ—MJ, calm down. It’s probably just somewhere else. Try taking your clothes off.” Michelle felt her toes curl into the carpet, her breath hitched. “Fuck,” Peter said. “I didn’t mean it like that—fuck, that came out wrong.”

You don’t need to apologize, Michelle thought. Instead, she nodded, then, realizing he couldn’t see her over the phone, she cleared her throat and said, “No, I get it—what you meant, I mean.” She cringed, Christ, she was absolutely horrible at this. “God, I hope it’s not on my ass.”

Peter let out a bark of laughter. Michelle smiled, then remembered her situation, frowned.

“Stop frowning, you’ll get premature wrinkles,” Peter said.

Michelle frowned deeper. “How do you know I’m frowning?”

“I know you, MJ. Now stop frowning. There’s only one way to know if you have a tattoo on your ass,” Peter said, choking on the last word. “Just check.”

Michelle loosed a breath. “Okay. I guess you’re right.”

She turned back toward the mirror, reaching for the waistband of her shorts and underwear, pulling them both down at the same time. Nothing on the front. She shimmied around a bit, before giving in and stepping out of her shorts. She glanced over her shoulder into the mirror. Nothing.

She took off her tank top next, checking her back first, since she was already facing in that direction. Still nothing. She turned around and ran her fingers over her stomach. Nothing there, either. Goddammit.

She slowly reached back to unclasp her bra and let it slide down her arms. “Mother fucker,” she said quietly.

She’s not sure how, but Peter heard her. “MJ? What’s the status? Did you find it?”

“Yeah, I did. And I fucking hate the universe.” She hissed.

Peter laughed nervously. “Well, what is it? Where is it?”

“Like hell I’m telling you!” MJ screeched.

“C’mon, Michelle, we had a deal!” Peter said. She could picture him laying down in bed, then sitting up abruptly, hair mussed like that night they had watched The Princess bride together. And that strip of skin she’d glimpsed and—fuck, she was thinking about him while she was naked.

“Peter, I literally had to take all my clothes off just to find it. I am not telling you about this ever. God, this is so humiliating.” Michelle looked in the mirror again and winced. Staring back a her was her naked body, dark skin gleaming in the moonlight, curls coming down over her breasts. She moved her hair out of the way to get a better look at her mark, and… there it was. A fist-size black spider sitting in the middle of her left breast, right over her nipple. She groaned, burying her face in the crook of her elbow.

“Oh, c’mon, M. It can’t be that bad,” Peter said.

“It’s bad, Pete,” Michelle sighed. “Well, at least this way my soulmate won’t be able to see my mark.”

Michelle stroked a finger over one of the spider’s legs and shivered. Peter swore over the phone.

“What?” Michelle asked.

“Nothing,” Peter said, though his voice was shaky. “Just got a shiver. That’s what I get for not wearing a shirt.

This boy.

And now she was picturing him shirtless. Fuck. With that mussed-up hair. Double-fuck. She looked down to find that the hand near her breast had grabbed on, kneading the soft flesh. Holy mother of god, an infinite amount of fucks. But it felt good. Really good. She let out a quiet moan.

“MJ? What’s going on, are you okay?” How the ever-living hell did Peter keep hearing her? She could barely hear herself.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she managed. Thankfully she sounded normal, if not a little breathy. “Just a little messed up after seeing the mark, you know? I wasn’t expecting to feel so… attached to it.” Because that’s what it was, she realized. She could already feel her connection to someone else, and she hated herself for loving it, for craving that sensation to be stronger.

“Okay. We should probably both go to sleep anyway,” Peter said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” He sounded worried, but he was willing to give her space. That was one of the things she valued most about their friendship.

“Yeah,” Michelle said. Then, when she heard him start to shift, presumably on his bed (God help her), she interrupted, “and, Peter?” He hummed in response. “Put a shirt on. It’s cold out.”

He grunted. “Yeah, will do, M.”

Somehow Michelle got the feeling he wasn’t going to put on a shirt. Idiot.

Part 2

[vonlipvig]

Ok, time for my thoughts on The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, now that I’ve finished it! This is probably gonna be long, probably gonna be incoherent, so under a read more it goes!

Alright, overall? I had fun! I really enjoyed the book! I mean, I love the Hunger Games, I love the universe, and I’m always gonna be excited for more content, whatever it is. But I really did enjoy the book! It was interesting, engaging, and ok maybe it had it’s ups and downs, but it was a fun read, and it gives me a lot to think and talk about, so I consider that a win in my book.

I also didn’t have any expectations going into it, so I guess that helped, too. I honestly only found out this book was out by chance while I was reading the HG wiki (and kinda spoiled myself about the rebel bombing, I was like yo did I miss this in the books or movies, whaaa?), so I really didn’t have all that time to get my hopes up or anything. Do I want a Haymitch book? Yeah, for sure. But I think the idea of focusing on Snow was pretty interesting. I love a good villain backstory, getting to see the journey and the evolution (de-evolution?) of that character, seeing them slowly transform themselves into the version we all know and hate. So when I found out the book was out, I was sold!

Story

Going plot-wise, or story-wise first, I think the first two parts of the book were fun overall. It’s pretty cool we get to see a Capitol perspective, which we’ve never really had before (and to see the aftermath of the war, even there, that was pretty interesting). The whole school thing was cute, and felt kinda like, IDK, anime-ish, or something? Does that even make sense? But yeah, it was fun spotting all the ancestors of characters we know, it was cool to see the shaping of the Hunger Games we saw in the future, and although the stakes were high for Coriolanus, I felt it was more chill than the trilogy (I mean, duh, Katniss was fighting for her life). Not that it wasn’t exciting, cause it was--and a lot!--but it was a lot more relaxed, I think.

The Games itself were super fun, as always. The third part was unexpected, and it did slow the story a lot, I felt, though I guess it makes sense. It...did confuse me a bit, at times, like I felt I didn’t exactly know what Coriolanus was gonna do or think--Is that a flaw of the story? Or is it because he himself is conflicted and even lying to himself? I’ll leave it up to you--, but some all the things I thought were gonna happen happened, and I really enjoyed the ending.

Characters

This being Snow’s book, I definitely knew most of the characters were just gonna be pieces that make up his story. I also had the feeling that not many were gonna have a happy ending, and yEAH yeah I was right! While I wish that some had had a lot more depth and autonomy cough LUCY GRAY cough, this was Snow’s story, so it was what it was.

So, Coriolanus Snow, huh? For a while there, as I said, I really wasn’t sure where they were gonna take his character, and it really confused me. We know President Snow, and all the time we’re waiting for him to make the choices that man would make. Sometimes he does, then sometimes he doesn’t...and then comes around to it. Either it’s pretty “realistic”, or kinda confusingly written, but I wasn’t that disappointed, I’ll tell you this.

Regarding him being in love, I actually don’t think he was ever in love at all. Not that he didn’t believe he was, that’s the important part. In this book we see his inner thoughts, we see what he thinks about Lucy Gray, and I HOPE TO GOD that was never meant to be romantic, because it really, really wasn’t! It was possessive, and controlling, and isn’t that what Dr. Gaul taught him, after all? During the Games, as he thought to himself that wow, I really need Lucy Gray to win...because I care about her? Hmm, no, actually no, you’re after the prize. You’re telling yourself that you care about her, but I don’t think you do at all. It’s very cruel but also what I expected from him, so I did like that.

I got confused at first when he actually agreed to go away with Lucy Gray, but if we take into account that he really thought he was going to get hanged for treason, then I can see how he’d do that. That ending with both of them in the forest, turning into the Hunger Games in the blink of an eye, THAT was really exciting and intense. Him screaming Lucy Gray’s name while firing blindly, and being surrounded by the mockingjays...yeah, I needed that shit. That’s the good stuff.

His “friendship” with Sejanus...Oh, Sejanus. Oh, poor Sejanus. I get to have one of these per book, and Sejanus is BABY and I love him. Ok, with that out of the way, goddamn I knew this was gonna end this way and it still hurt.

Something that I thought was a bit silly, was that Coriolanus didn’t...consider that by recording Sejanus they’d...surely kill him? Like, that’s the first thing I thought of? But he was like OH THEY’D PUT HIM IN PRISON...dude, no. I think it could have been cool for him to at least think he’s ok with sending Sejanus to his death, and yeah maybe when he’s at the hanging have a bit of remorse or terror as the jabberjays echo Sejanus’ last words, but yeah, Idk. I still loved that we got that tragic ending. I was convinced it was gonna happen, and I’m happy it happened. Well, not happy, it’s gonna haunt me, but you get the feeling. 

As for other characters, I don’t know what to think about Dr. Gaul, tbh? She was weird, the whole applying Hobbesian philosophy to the HG was...like, I get it, but also...? IDK, it was confusing and strange and I’m not entirely sure that worked as an explanation (I don’t think you can put much of an explanation, really), but whatever. I did like Dean Highbottom in the end, I kinda digged him character and the way Coriolanus’ father betrayed him, it was pretty cool. Also, am I the only one who thought he had a one-sided crush on Coryo’s father? And Sejanus with Coryo, as well? I meAAAAN, how well would that work thematically, hmm!

Aaaaaand then, we have Lucy Gray. I...have some things to say about Lucy Gray. First is that I love her a lot and god, how I wish things could have been different. I loved her spirit, and her vulnerability, and her charm and wit and instinct to survive. But...god, Idk, I just think they really tied her to the male characters, and that kinda bothers me. Like, she needs Billy Taupe or she needs Coryo and Idk! They should have let her be more independent! That irked me a bit, not gonna lie. Obviously, as I said, this is still Coriolanus’ story, but it just rubbed me the wrong way. 

At first I thought, I don’t know, maybe when Coryo shows up in 12 she doesn’t actually want to see him, which makes him angry or jealous? I don’t have a problem with her being kinda in love (I mean, she went through a really traumatic experience, it’s understandable that she’d latch onto Coryo), but Idk, I felt a bit disappointed. 

I did love the ending, I’m afraid. It sucks, of course, but if he was to go on to become President Snow, then that was the only way it could have ended between them. I felt such rage when Coriolanus started sympathizing with Billy Taupe, when he knew he had to kill her. What a betrayal, although I always knew it was gonna be like that! It was so tragic, and I feel so sad for her. I’m glad her music lives on, and that in the end, she had her revenge.

And now, for the ONE THING I TRULY DON’T GET...WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED WITH TIGRIS!? I felt so cheated by that! They introduce her as Coryo’s cousin in the first chapter and you go OH SHIT SOMETHING BAD’S GONNA HAPPEN BETWEEN THEM...AND THEN NOTHING. Like, at the end of the story she hasn’t been betrayed! I mean, maybe it was a case of ooh you can iamgine what happened! maybe she found out about him betraying Sejanus or killing/wounding Lucy Graaaay, but like c’mon. They really baited me with that one, and it sucks.

So...I think that’s it! I had a lot of fun!

[bomberqueen17]

thicc replies

themagnificentmags replied to your post “chapter 3 of Fugitive”

Ooh, the plot thickens!

plots are like unto béchamel: irresistible to me when properly thickened (lol that was the most pretentious way I ever could have said that, I am delighted)

gnomeicecream replied to your post “we took the wyverns on a tour of the coast by boat”

High amounts of saphic energy in the prequil of this tale.

Fellas, is it gay to-- ahh, I’ll be serious, answer below.

childoffantasy replied to your post “we took the wyverns on a tour of the coast by boat”

B I am a humble queer, you can't just describe MM like that and NOT expect me to come away with a lil crush. Also I desperately need a lilac bush of my very own, cause idk how well the neighbors will react to me pilfering theirs once they bloom properly and I love gin cocktails

LISTEN. She is magnificent. I should mention, to be fair, that DF is also a reasonably attractive man (6′, hazel eyes, even features, lean but sturdy build, dresses nicely), it’s just, you know, men are much less aesthetically appealing in general. I have never not acknowledged that I am Hella Bi. However, I am also demisexual, and the Beast of Genuine Sexual Attraction bites me but seldom. So, for the record, while it would not be wrong if my residence in this house and love for its occupants was not entirely platonic, it is, but that doesn’t mean I can’t aesthetically enjoy its occupants. My mother is beautiful too, my sisters are great beauties, each in their own way; I can describe them as such without intending it to be a particularly thirsty description. But, for the record, I am and always have been bi as fuck, just, sort of ace too, as it happens. 😊

MM Fashion Update: Last night she dug out a pendant of a gryphon that she owns, to wear it in honor of poor Coen, since she finally got to the part of Ancient Sea where his Tragic Backstory is somewhat enumerated. ❤️

And, re: lilacs, I have EXCELLENT NEWS, which is that at least one manufacturer does make a lilac gin all pre-flowered for you, should anyone wish to recreate the Yennefer and not have a lilac bush just blooming at their disposal. 

Black Button Distilling makes a lovely lilac gin. Which, honestly, I should go buy some of, since I happen to be in town... ah, there’s kind of an inside reference here, Rochester NY is historically known as the Flour City because they had huge mills to convert grain from the Midwest that had come in via the Great Lakes into flour for use in New York and New England, as they were situated ideally right between the Erie Canal and Lake Ontario and at the hub of some railroads. Obviously all of that is long gone, but at some point it got converted over to the Flower City, and to make this a worthy name somebody filled up Highland Park with lilac bushes and every single year (except this year 😪) they have a wonderful big hullaballoo of a Lilac Festival and every single year, Rochester’s weather is so wildly unpredictable that the lilac bushes are not blooming during the festival, and that’s part of the charm of the festival. ANYWAY, so pale purple lilacs are a semi-official symbol of the city of Rochester. Which is where I am now, though it’s not where I live. ANYWAY *exhales* you can get lilac gin and make the Yennefer but you’d have to add bitters somehow to replicate the true beauty of it, the lilac gin is mostly a soft pleasant flowery aromatic experience. 

ANYHOO

you could always just ask your neighbors... I never would though, I don’t blame you one bit.

[writingontheclouds]

How You Get The Girl

Read it on AO3.

Chapter 2. How To Know If A Bloke Fancies You (Spoiler: Ask His Best Mate, He'll Snitch)

Lily,

I know.

Sirius

...

Sirius,

Stop being cryptic and tell me what you know.

Lily

...

Lilyflower,

Something that seemed to have happened on the last night of the term? *wink wink*

Sirius

...

Sirius,

He told you, didn't he?

Lily

...

Lils,

Uh huh he did. That is not the only thing I know.

Are you telling him or should I?

Ecstatic now the unthinkable has happened, Sirius

...

Sirius,

BLACK IF YOU TELL HIM, I SWEAR TO MERLIN AND DUMBLEDORE I WILL END YOU!

So now that you have figured it out, help out a poor soul, will you? Does he still, you know, fancy me?

Waiting impatiently, Lily

...

Lils,

Relax, Red. I'm not telling him.

I will help you, darling. After all, I am the godfather to your first child who you will so kindly name after me.

Sirius

...

Sirius,

Black, you delusional little git. I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF HE STILL FANCIES ME HOW ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT NAMES OF CHILDREN??

About to commit a homicide, Lily

PS. No child of mine will be named after you.

...

Lily,

Ofcourse, he does. He's fancied you for years.

Homicide is quite frowned upon in the society, darling, Sirius

PS You wound me. I'll be talking to James about it.

...

Sirius,

…he does?

Lily

...

Red,

A hundred percent sure he does.

Awaiting red haired babies with Quidditch abilities, Sirius

...

SIRIUS

THANKYOU. You put me out of my misery.

Ignoring the babies jab and prancing around, Lily

PS I should probably stop prancing lest I break my leg.

...

Red,

Keep dancing, but there might be just a teensy bit of a problem.

Sirius

PS I'll send James for your rescue if you do break something.

...

Black,

I’m sending hexes you’ve never heard of in the next letter if you don’t spit it out.

Lily

...

Lily,

He might have not EXACTLY said he still fancied you.

A toad would be highly preferable, I'll have you know, just in case. I hate cockroaches. Sirius

...

Sirius,

.

Lily

...

Lily,

I swear to Merlin’s pinkie I’ve never been frightened more by you.

Alright. He said he's moved on and didn't fancy you anymore.

Also, he might have said he's asking out Emily Cooper from Hufflepuff the week we get back. Might. I'll neither confirm nor deny that for the fear of red heads popping out from underneath my bed and hexing me while I sleep.

Sirius

...

Sirius,

HE'S ASKING OUT EMILY THE TART?!

Insulted, Lily

...

Lily,

Now, now Lilyflower, let's not disrespect others. They've already been on 3 dates this past summer and I'll have you know she's a completely fine bird. Blonde and blue eyed without any anger management issues.

Sirius

...

Sirius,

3 DATES? WHERE DID THAT INFORMATION GO WHEN I ASKED YOU WHETHER HE FANCIED ME OR NOT SIRIUS SODDING BLACK?!

Lily

...

Lils,

Told Isis to peck me, didn't you? She did, and since her temper quite matches yours, I'll have permanent scars from this ordeal.

Just tell him, would you?

Highly annoyed, Sirius

...

Sirius,

No, thank you, I'd rather not get rejected.

Lily

...

Lils,

Trust me, he does. He's just protecting himself from your rejection, it's not the other way round.

In any case, you have a week before September starts. Tick tock, Red, time is ticking. Tell him or you'll lose your only chance. Who knows? Maybe it'll be blond babies I'll be godfathering.

Sirius

...

Lily Evans sat on her desk, the book in her hand long forgotten, with her gaze locked onto the clouds rolling above the little town of Cokesworth. She loved sitting at her study, which had a perfect view of the countryside behind their little house, reading another classic or stargazing.

But today, she sat by the same window, her mind in a whirl, half of her heart hoping to see a grey feathered owl heading towards her house and the other half wanting to fling herself off the darn window and end it all.

Usually, when she was home for breaks, her window always had traffic from a certain female owl delivering colorful little letters and small, friendly chocolate treats from a bespectacled black haired boy she had come to adore. But this summer was a long, hard, dry spell, and Lily often found herself looking out the window with a sorrowed expression, waiting for something that apparently wasn't coming anytime soon.

The summer when she actually wanted to hear from him was when he decided he preferred the silence between them. And Lily was sure this silence would end in her booking herself a ward in psychiatric care at St Mungo's.

She was pulled back into reality when she heard a familiar pecking on her window. Looking up, a barn owl flew right outside her window, with a letter attached to its talons, looking expectedly at her with big brown eyes. She promptly opened the window, her heart sinking just a little and Odin, Marlene's majestic owl, flew in swiftly and landed in front of her.

"Hello there, Odin." Lily spoke, as the owl nibbled Lily's hand gently. She untied the letter attached quickly, stroking Odin's feathers as he cooed.

Lily Evans,

This is an intervention. If I receive another letter about you moping around, I'm going to set your flaming red hair on fire and I'm not kidding.

Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron tomorrow at 12pm sharp. Don't be late. There's something you need to know.

Marlene

"Marlene is such a bossy little thing, isn't she?" She asked Odin who hooted in response.

Lily sighed. She had no desire to go out, much less change out of her 3 day old pajamas. But she needed to complete her school shopping. And she was shocked at how low she let herself get. Sod him.

Hastily scribbling down an affirmative reply, she sent Odin on his way before going down to the kitchen to fix herself a bowl of ice cream.

...

The streets of Diagon Alley were bustling with last minute shoppers on this last weekend of August. September 1st was a mere few days away, and the excitement of a new year lingered in the air. As Lily wove through the crowd behind Marlene, ducking here and there from things flying overhead, she realised how much she loved to see Diagon Alley in its full dramatic flair. After 7 years, this magical world still hit her by surprise sometimes.

The pair made their way through the crowd to reach the entrance of The Leaky Couldron, a popular wizarding pub and inn.

"Ooh c'mon, or we'll be late.” Marlene exasperated, urging Lily to catch on with her quick. She was busy inhaling the sights of the street.

"Late for what?" Lily asked, confused, as she increased her pace.

Marlene didn't answer as she pushed the heavy door of The Leaky Cauldron open. The aged pub attracted both young and old alike after an exhausting day of shopping.

Scanning the crowd, she smiled at two guys sitting in one of the booths, nursing butterbeers with smirks plastered all over their faces as they spotted the girls.

Lily's heart stopped as she registered the familiar faces of the Marauders. No, no, no, no, no, no, her heart thumped in rhythm with her thoughts.

She pulled Marlene back by her clothes violently; she stumbled backwards into Lily but she paid no heave.

"You called the Marauders?!"

"Yes." Marlene answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Mar!" Lily exclaimed loudly. Her cheeks were boiling hot by this point, and the heat in the pub wasn't making things easier.

"Oh my god, you've got it bad." Marlene snickered, then stopped when she saw her best friend's vicious glare. "Don't worry, he's not here."

"He's not?" Lily's face visibly fell as Marlene shook her head.

"C'mon!" She tugged Lily along as they reached the booth.

"Hello boys!"

"McKinnon!" Both boys sang together.

"Red." Sirius said mockingly with a giant smirk.

“Hi Remus,” Lily said, completely disregarding the presence of Sirius Black.

Lily and Marlene sat in the booth opposite the boys as Peter came trodding, carefully trying to balance three butterbeers in his hands.

“For you, girls.” He said, as he put down the mugs.

“So, Marlene, ready for your last year on the pitch?” Sirius started the conversation.

“Oh, absolutely. I trained all summer. Need to leave Hogwarts with a bang,” Marlene replied, the excitement of a new quidditch season evident in her gleaming eyes.

The conversation drifted into the nitty-gritties of Quidditch, which Lily did not particularly understand. They discussed, nay argued, about Chudley Cannon’s new beater formation strategy, how the tragic fall of Harpies is going to affect the coming years of Quidditch World Cup and the incoming seeker of Puddlemere.

When the conversation finally died down after a good hour, Lily plucked the courage to finally ask, "Where's James?”

"A little too excited to see James, are we, Lils?" Remus smirked, giddy like a little kid.

"I thought I could expect some maturity from you, Remus."

"I'm still a Marauder, Lil.” Remus shrugged, lifting his mug to her.

"James is otherwise occupied." Sirius answered, as he gulped down the last of his butterbeer.

"What?!" Lily's head perked up at that, shock colouring her face. She looked like she was about to break down.

Remus, Sirius, Peter and Marlene promptly burst into laughter. Everyone in the pub paused to look at them howling with laughter for a moment, then turned around to their conversations.

“You were right, McKinnon, this was totally worth it,” Peter spat out between his laughs. Marlene gave him a high-five.

"My apologies, Evans," Sirius tried controlling himself under the murderous gaze of Lily, "By occupied I meant sneezing and coughing his bloody brains out."

"He's poorly?"

"Just a nasty flu. Courtesy of a thrilling game of Quidditch in the rain."

Lily nodded and shook her head, now embarrassed to have been caught red-handed, though her mind couldn’t help but wonder Quidditch in the rain, such a James thing to do. She really has got it bad.

"So, Lily, how do you plan to tell him?"

"Tell who what?"

"James."

"I'm not telling James anything."

“And why in Merlin’s pants not?”

“I don’t know."

“You have to tell him.”

“I don’t HAVE to tell him.”

“But why wouldn’t you?”

“Because-“ Lily tried, but her heart hurt thinking of James with Emily. Happy. She sighed, and shook her head, playing with her nails instead. Sirius, Remus, Peter and Marlene exchanged glances.

"Alright, I knew she wouldn't be convinced. You're as stubborn as James." Marlene said, shaking her head. "And that’s precisely why I brought you here." She turned to Sirius. "That's your queue."

Sirius nodded, and produced a piece of parchment from his robes and passed it to Lily. It was crumpled and then smoothened out. Surprised, she took it.

"What's this?"

"Just read it."

Lily opened the folded piece of parchment. There were just a few lines in a very familiar scrawl.

Lily,

I don't know how to start this letter, but it's high time we talked, shouldn't we? I know you must be mad at me, you should be really, because of what I did. And you know what? I'm not sorry I kissed you.

I've fancied you for a long time now, and truthfully speaking, I don't know remember a time when I didn't.

Just wanted to get that out of the way.

James

Or Potter, whatever you prefer.

"I don't understand, was I meant to read this or..?"

Sirius thought about it for a moment. "Yes, and no."

Lily raised an eyebrow in question.

"A few days ago, I found him in his room writing a letter to you. Well, trying is the key word here. The room was filled with half finished letters, some were just a pain to read, you know how cheesy James can get. Well, this one particularly piqued my interest, and I kept it. He burned the rest of them because I threatened I’ll send them all to you."

"What if he wrote I don't fancy you anymore Lily, it's best we just stay friends on the last letter he wrote?"

"But he still wrote this." Lily furrowed her brows and Sirius sighed. "He wouldn't have written this if he didn't fancy you. Doesn't matter what he wrote on the other, he wouldn't have been spending so much thought into what to write if he wasn't scared of hurting your feelings, or his own."

"I've never seen this insightful side of you, Sirius. I must say, it's rather frightening.” Remus remarked. Sirius grinned at Remus.

"He just doesn't want to be hurt again, Lil.”

Lily nodded, staring very hard at the parchment in her hand. She swallowed. There was silence for a moment as the group stared at Lily as she read the words on the parchment over and over again.

"So? What’s the verdict? Can we expect some Potter babies soon?" Remus asked.

Lily glared at him. "It's like there are two Sirius' now." She shook her head in disbelief but laughed in the end.

"So?"

"Lils?” Marlene urged.

Lily looked at each one of them. They looked so hopeful that she didn’t want to break their hearts by saying no. But more importantly, she didn’t want to break her own heart by not trying.

"James Potter wouldn't know what hit him." Lily stated and gave a small smile.

Marlene cheered and hugged her best friend. The Marauders’ grinned and cheered on. Remus pointed his wand to the ceiling and produced confetti while Sirius whistled. The bartender brought around another round of butterbeers.

“Here's for the future Potters.” Sirius took his mug and raised it in the air. Everyone else followed.

"To Lily and James!” Marlene and Remus piqued together, and they clinked their mugs together and drank.

"5 Galleons says James will shit his pants when he hears.” Peter added, and they all dissolved in laughter again.

[thegizka]

Cherry Conversation (fic)

Ino enjoys a weekend away with some of her best friends.

Originally written for Ino Week 2019 Day 3:  Favorite Moments.

Read it on Ao3.

Their laughter echoed across the lake as they stumbled back to their cabin.  Ino had made sure to rent an entire lake house because she figured things would get wild, but she wouldn’t be surprised if they were still waking up half the people at the resort.  Right now, she was too high on joy and sake to really care.

She hugged her friends closer--Hinata on one side, Tenten on the other.  Temari was laughing and trying not to trip as she wove strands of Hinata’s hair in messy braids.  Sakura was skipping along beside them.  She had considered inviting Shizune, Tsunade, and Kurenai, but she wasn’t sure she wanted her mentors as witnesses when she really let loose (though Lady Tsunade was notorious for enjoying a good night out).  She had also invited Karui, but she was busy with business in the Hidden Cloud, and they didn’t know each other super well yet.  They’d have to party together some other time.

“Anyone want to go skinny dipping?” Tenten asked mischievously as Sakura unlocked their cabin.

“What?” Hinata squeaked.  She was really pretty when she was buzzed.  She was pretty normally, of course, but it seemed particularly noticeable in this moment.

“We’re too drunk,” Temari laughed, collapsing onto a couch.

“But it’d be fuuuun,” Tenten giggled, collapsing on top of her.  Those two were rarely so friendly with each other.  Apparently having your back nearly broken by someone in your youth was hard to forgive.  But at this moment they were cuddling like the best of friends.

“It’ll be fun for like two minutes until y’all drown, and I am not going to spend all night resuscitating you.  This is supposed to be a weekend free from work.”  Sakura leaned against the door frame, though it was a more casual lean than an attempt to find support.  She could handle her alcohol better than most.  Ino suspected it had something to do with her medical ninjutsu strengthened body, but she wasn’t sure.

“You’d save me, right?” she asked, wrapping her arms around her best friend and leaning into her.  “It would look pretty bad if you returned from this weekend as the sole survivor of a tragic accident, especially since you’re the best medical ninja in the universe.”

“Not true.”  Sakura gently pushed her away.  “I am not saving anyone because no one is risking their lives for a swim until they’re sober.”

“Aw man!” Tenten moaned.  “You’re no fun.”

“Sakura-chan is right,” Hinata hummed.  “Besides, we have all weekend to go swimming.”

“Know what I think would be fun right now?” Temari asked, extracting herself from beneath Tenten to the other’s groans of protest.  “Pajamas.  And then maybe ice cream.”

“Ooh, actually ice cream does sound good.”  Tenten heaved herself up off the couch. “Race you!”

She was already shooting past Sakura when she said this, and the other scrambled to follow her upstairs to the bedrooms.  They changed quickly, and soon they were racing back downstairs to the kitchen where Temari and Tenten began fighting over the chocolate ice cream.  Hinata tried explaining that there was plenty for both of them, but the two competitive kunoichi had already made it a game to see who would win.  Ino grabbed a bowl of chocolate chip and escaped to the back porch as globs of ice cream began flying through the air.

The sky was already dark, a thin streak of lavender on the horizon the final proof of what had been a beautiful summer sunset.  They had watched it from a rooftop bar and restaurant where there had been karaoke and perhaps too much sake.  Ino loved vibrant atmospheres like that where she was surrounded by noise and people and a sense of life, but she also enjoyed quieter moments like this with insects humming on the warm night air as stars winked into view.  She appreciated the range in experiences and the beauty that came from different moments.

“I see you escaped the chaos, too.”

Sakura sat down beside her on the porch steps, bowl of caramel pecan ice cream in hand.

“I barely made it out before they started flinging sprinkles at each other.  Hinata’s threatening to take the chocolate ice cream away, but I think that’s backfired and she’s now caught in the middle of it all.  I did manage to smuggle the cherries out, though.”

“Thanks!”  The lid of the jar made a soft popping sound as Ino twisted it off.  She fished a cherry out by its red-stained stem, popping it into her mouth and licking the juicy syrup from her fingers.

For a while the two friends didn’t say anything, simply enjoying the warmth of the night and the sweetness of the dessert.  The buzzing of insects and muffled shouts from the food fight inside were a sort of background music to their companionship.  The lake before them reflected the increasing constellations nearly perfectly, its surface marred only by the occasional fish attempting to snatch bugs foolish enough to land on its surface.

“So,” Sakura said, breaking the relative silence, “you’re getting married in a week.”

“I am.”  She still felt a rush of excitement every time she remembered this fact.  She fished for another cherry.

“Do you think you’re ready?”

“Everything’s been ordered and arranged, if that’s what you mean.”  She popped the fruit into her mouth.  “And I wouldn’t have said yes to Sai if I wasn’t ready to spend the rest of my life with him.”

Sakura hummed in agreement and took another bite of her ice cream.

“It is a lot different than how we thought it would be as kids, though, isn’t it?” Ino mused.

“Well a lot of things happened that we didn’t expect as kids.”  War, losing loved ones, heartbreak--those unexpected developments were left unspoken.  That wasn’t to say that all of the deviations from their childhood dreams were bad.  They had found greater strength and a greater capacity of love than they could have imagined.  And Sai--strange, savage, beautiful Sai--was more incredible than any boyfriend she had thought up in the romantic musings of youth.  If all of the twists and turns of her life had brought them together, Ino figured she could live with that.

“That’s true.  I never expected to let you have Sasuke, for one,” she teased.  Sakura rolled her eyes, but the reaction wasn’t as playful as it could have been.

“Sasuke isn’t the boy we thought he was.”

“And we’re not the women we thought we would be.”  Ino dug her spoon into her ice cream.  “But that’s not a bad thing.  One of these days Sasuke will come back to the village and to you.  You just have to give him time.”

“I know.”  Sakura twirled a cherry stem between her fingers thoughtfully.  “I just wish I knew how much time he needed, y’know?  Naruto’s already married, you and Sai practically are, and I feel a bit..stuck.  It’s like you’re all moving on with your lives and I’m still waiting to take the next step.”  There was no bitterness in her words, just sadness.

Ino didn’t have any sufficient words of comfort.  Sometime during their years of crushing on Sasuke she had realized that loving him would be a long trial of endurance.  She wasn’t patient enough to wait for him, and she wasn’t kind enough to help him pick up the pieces of his life.  It wasn’t that she didn’t still love him, it just wasn’t the love he needed.  She loved him like she loved Shikamaru or Chouji or Sakura.  They had been part of her life for too long to discard easily, and she wanted to see them happy and thriving.  But she wasn’t strong enough to help Sasuke.  Her best friend, though, was a healer to her very core, and she had a bigger heart than anyone she knew.  Sakura was strong enough to walk with Sasuke into his future and all of its uncertainty.  Their love would never be easy, but it would endure, and that made Ino sure they would be alright.

“Y’know sometimes,” she confessed, “it feels like I’m running after you.”

“Ino, you don’t need to lie to make me feel better,” Sakura sighed.

“I’m serious!  Every time I think I’m getting ahead, I look up and you’re already excelling.  I mean, you’re beautiful, you’re smart, you’re changing the world…  You’re the whole package, girl.  I’m an average medical ninja with an average mission record who sucks at one-on-one combat.  You’d cream me if we fought right now.”

“I don’t think so.  You’re better than me at a lot of things.”  Sakura offered her the cherry jar.  “Remember our chunin exams?  You nearly beat me.”

“That was a long time ago,” Ino reminded her, fishing for one of the fruits.  “Besides, you nearly beat me then, too.”

“But I couldn’t.  You came up with a response for everything I threw at you, and you threw some curveballs at me, too.  That was the first time I felt like we were equals.  For a long time I looked up to you, Ino.  I still do, in some ways.  I don’t think I’ll ever be as confident as you are.  But seeing everything you’ve accomplished makes me want to do better.  You motivated me to work hard to keep up with you and Naruto and Sasuke.”

“I am nowhere near on the same level as Naruto and Sasuke,” Ino laughed.  “But it’s sweet of you to say so.”

“I dunno.”  Sakura scraped her spoon around her bowl to get the last of her ice cream.  “I think you’re more powerful than you realize.  That thing you did with your mind jutsu during the war--where you connected every shinobi in the allied forces so we were all on the same page and of the same will?  That was incredible!  I don’t think we would have made it without you.  You saved us just as much as Naruto or Sasuke or anyone else did.”

“Aw, Sakura.”  She felt warm and full and beautiful and believed in.  “That’s really sweet of you to say.  How did I get lucky enough to have you as my best friend?”  She wrapped her arms around her and squeezed.

“Yeah really, I have no idea,” she laughed, flicking cherry juice at her friend playfully.

“Hey!”  Ino squealed and withdrew.

“No!  I only just got these two to stop fighting.”

They turned at Hinata’s groan.  She, Tenten, and Temari were standing in the doorway, giggling and messy with ice cream and toppings.

“Who won?” Ino asked.

“The kitchen floor,” Temari smirked.  “Someone dropped the ice cream during the struggle and it exploded everywhere.”

“It definitely wasn’t me,” Tenten declared.

“It doesn’t matter,” Hinata sighed.  “But we have a giant mess to clean up now.”

“I know a good way to get cleaned up,” Tenten declared mischievously.  “Swimming!”

She was already streaking down the path to the dock before they could stop her, pulling her shirt over her head and discarding it in the grass.

“Wait!” Temari laughed, two steps behind her.  The other girls exchanged a rueful look.

“Be careful!” Hinata called, following more slowly and picking up their discarded bits of clothing.

“I’ll go grab some towels,” Sakura laughed.  She took their empty ice cream bowls and disappeared inside.

Ino smiled to the sounds of splashing and laughter.  She snatched the last cherry out of the jar and popped it into her mouth.  She sure had gotten lucky with the people in her life.  With a flick of her hair and an excited whoop, she raced to join her friends.

[noiksy]

Kitchen and Moonlight Shadow Book Review

Book Review: Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto

Date of Publication: January 30th, 1988

Date started: May 15th, 2019

Date ended: May 25th, 2019

Recommended by: Amzy

Beware of spoilers!

I wanted to get back into reading, so my dear friend Amy recommended me the book Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto. Immediately, I was very attached to the two introductory paragraphs. From the simplistic hook to the tonal shift with the line, “When I raise my eyes from the oil-spattered gas burner and the rusty kitchen knife, outside the window stars are glittering, lonely” (Yoshimoto 2), I knew I would be one of my favorites. I haven’t read much Japanese literature or any literature at all recently. Growing up, I have always been fascinated with manga and anime, especially throughout 2015-2017. For a book project I had at the end of Sophomore year of High School, we were able to choose a book above a certain Lexile level to write a book report on. A few years back, I had ordered a book titled No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai that I discovered from the anime Bungou Stray Dogs. I decided it would be the perfect book to read due to it being so short, and it ended up being one of my all-time favorite books and since then I’ve wanted to read more Japanese literature. And now here I am, reviewing another one! Kitchen is a novel taking place in 1980’s Japan staring the character Mikage Sakurai, a young adult orphan who had recently lost her Grandmother. She begins the story lying on the kitchen floor, contemplating how she ended up where she was. Not soon after that, we are introduced to the male lead Yuichi Tabane who rings on her door and asks Mikage to move in with him and his mother, Eriko. The book is very simplistic in nature, but it is easy to become attached to every character. I am someone who enjoys Boys Love (BL), so to have me so emotionally invested in a heterosexual pairing is amazing. Both Mikage and Yuichi had a wonderful connection! There was immediately so much chemistry between the two that I found myself writing cute little comments such as "Does she fancy (a reference to Twice) him? Ooh~" and "So soft!" beside all their dialogue. I never felt as if there was a power dynamic between the two. The two seemed to genuinely care and understand each other. There is a particular part that stands out to me in chapter 1 when Yuichi asks Mikage to come over (Spoilers ahead!). Mikage commands Yuichi to buy ingredients for dinner and she is helping him bring them upstairs. They stare at the moon and Yuichi begins talking about Mikage’s passion for cooking by stating, “Don’t you think that seeing such a beautiful moon influences what one cooks?” he goes on to say, “You know that I think of you as an artist. For you cooking is an art. You really love your work in the kitchen. Of course you do. Good thing, too” (Yoshimoto 61). These two seem to truly connect with one another on a spiritual level and I am happy the two have each other to lean on, especially throughout the events in chapter 2. I am someone who aggressively ignores synopses. I have a hyperactive mind and with titles, clips, and synopses, I create an image of what I expect a story to be and I am always disappointed. Because of this, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that Eriko was transgender! I am not well versed in identity politics in Japan in the 1980s, but even America in 2019 struggle with this! While the characters seem very conflicted on how to identify Eriko, I noticed that never had anyone referred to Chika or Eriko by pronouns other than she/her! Even when stating that Eriko was a man, they still referred to her by her proper pronouns. I didn’t realize how touched I would be by this simple gesture, but it shows the reader just how accepting and loving these characters all are with each other. They truly come across as a family who wants the best for each other. The book is very short and it is hard for me to find someone that I actively disliked. The only thing that bothered me was the introduction of ex-love interests such as Sotaro. I assumed they would be more important than they were, but they definitely give us some background on the characters and helps ground them to reality.

One thing I would critique is the cover. I know people say “Don’t judge a book by its cover!” but I have to disagree. Many may know that I am an artist, while I’m not a designer, composition is a fundamental everyone is required to learn. I have recently become aware thanks to Amy that there are two book covers! I will be critiquing both book covers.

This is the cover that I received when I ordered the book off amazon. I feel like the cover portrays the contents of the book well. I am someone who is not the biggest fan of people on book covers. I am an artist, so seeing illustrations on the cover is always a plus for me. I feel like I would have preferred the cover if the girl was removed from the front cover. I don’t mind her on the back cover, but she almost feels out of place on the front cover? I would never consider this to be an ugly cover, but I am a firm believer that anything can be improved! I do enjoy the color scheme! It feels very carrot-y? It feels very kitchen-esque.

This is the second book cover I have seen. This cover reminds me a lot of No Longer Human, which is another cover I enjoyed. It is a very simple cover with different shades of pink, Kanji, and the English title and author name written in white. I find simplistic covers to be the most stunning, but I almost find the first cover to fit the story better.

All in all, I feel as if this has become one of my new favorite novels! It is very short and bittersweet! I love a nice story where the events are very self-contained, almost slice-of-life like where the events are very personal to the characters. While the incident in chapter two might only affect Mikage, Yuichi, and Chika, they are very personal and develops their characters. Due to this, I highly recommend this to anyone who wants to get back into reading with a very short yet easy read!

Bonus: Moonlight Shadow

Moonlight Shadow is the companion novel to Kitchen. It is the second book in the novel and continues to explore Kitchen’s themes of life continuing after losing a loved one with new protagonist Satsuki. Satsuki has been with her lover Hitoshi for almost 4 years before his tragic accidental death that also took the life of Yumiko, Hiiragi’s –Hitoshi’s younger brother- girlfriend. Satsuki takes on jogging to help her cope while Hiiragi begins wearing Yumiko’s sailor uniform. This story suggests that everyone has their own way of coping and that closure is needed to properly move on.

This book also deals with food bringing people together. when she is sick and tells her to open up to him. Urai first bonds with Satsuki over Pu-Arh tea. Similar to how Katsudon brought Yuichi and Mikage together, it also brings Hiiragi and Satsuki together. Hiiragi joke’s that Satsuki has fattened up, when really, she has lost a dramatic amount of weight. Hiiragi brings Satsuki KFC when she is sick and tells her to open up to him. Urai first bonds with Satsuki over Pu-Arh tea.

In comparison to Kitchen, Moonlight Shadow is a heavier story with a more ambiguous ending. While Kitchen was, for the most part, straight forward, Moonlight Shadow has a more fantastical element with the introduction or Urai. Urai is an intuitive figure whose goal is to bring Satsuki closure due to her connection with the river (Spoilers ahead). While it is never fully addressed how Hiiragi was able to see Yumiko again, the story does end with both characters beginning their journey to move on.

Kitchen and Moonlight Shadow are both amazing stories that deal with various themes of mourning and isolation. Despite both stories having similar themes, I did find myself enjoying Kitchen more. They were both amazing stories, but I ended feeling more connected to Mikage and Yuichi’s relationship. Despite this, I still highly recommend both stories!

[verycharismaticdragon]

Momo Yaoyorozu from bnha for character headcanons!

Ooh, thank u! Didn’t expect her but good!

1: sexuality headcanon a lesbian if i ever saw one

2: otp I’m a simple person, I see Momo/Jirou and I like it! Though to be honest I don’t put quite as much emphasis on “one” in “one true pairing”, and Momo/Kendo is also… v cute….

3: brotp Momo and Todoroki have a very solid brotp vibe! Although I must say, I do wish Momo had more connections to other girls. Because like yeah she interacts with them, but most of it is kind of - small talk background stuff? Aside from Jirou and Kendo she doesn’t have meaningful scenes with girls and that’s just tragic.

4: notp Listen, every Momo/dude ship makes me :( for obvious reasons, but none of them piss me off as much as hk letting that one rotten grape exist in same frames as her. (actually scratch that, that sentence should end on ‘exist’) Literally that’s my notp, Momo being on the same plane of being as that skeevy little fuck.

5: first headcanon that pops into my head She likes knitting! And some people are like “why would you do that if you could just create a finished thing” but for her it’s about the process. It’s like meditation, helps her untangle bad thoughts and let go of anxieties.Also not a ‘first’ headcanon but: I would die for chubby Momo and every artist who draws her as such.

6: one way in which I relate to this characterPerfectionism? Setting the standard too high and then beating myself up when I don’t quite measure up and then panicking because of it is… a big problem of mine so Momo’s arc between sports festival and practical exam was… oof.

7: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this characteri dont think i have one? she’s a good kid. …ok, her outfit does but that’s on horikoshi not on her.

8: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?cinnamonest of rolls

[the-desolated-quill]

Knock Knock - Doctor Who blog

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

Holy moly, do I love this episode! XD

Now yes, Knock Knock isn’t perfect and I will be talking about some of the flaws, but it honestly doesn’t matter to me one jot! I LOVE this episode! Wholeheartedly and unashamedly!

I must confess I was a bit worried when it started. You’ve got Bill moving in with quite possibly the world’s thickest bunch of housemates, renting a creepy old house from a mysterious old guy they’ve only just met and know next to nothing about. Talk about gullible. And the housemates themselves are a bit of an obnoxious bunch. I think the only significant thing we ever learn about them is that some of them like Little Mix and the rest don’t. But once night falls and the shit hits the fan, I was completely hooked.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been properly frightened of Doctor Who, so kudos to writer Mike Bartlett for being able to scare the living bejesus out of me. It’s the traditional haunted house setup with creaking floorboards and everything, but it’s the execution that really sells it. The use of sound in particular really helps ratchet up the tension dramatically and I love how minimalist everything is during the first half. Admittedly the horror is weakened slightly by the fact that I don’t give a shit about any of the victims, but from a purely conceptual standpoint, it’s extremely solid. Wooden doors and shutters that seal themselves, David Suchet’s creepy landlord character, that grinning wooden woman and OMG, there are alien cockroaches coming out of the walls! This is really macabre stuff. By the time we got to the bit where the cockroaches started swarming over people and devouring them, I was cowering behind a cushion.

What I especially love about it is how intimate and small scale it is. Recently I’ve grown accustomed to these big, bombastic threats and one dimensionally evil characters from Moffat era stories nowadays, so to have a very human villain with a very human motivation at the centre of it all really elevates the material. David Suchet is a truly phenomenal actor and gives a very strong performance here. He’s immensely creepy as the Landlord, but it’s not too in your face or pantomime-esque. This is a very nuanced character with relatable motivations and goals. He’s feeding people to the alien cockroaches so that they can keep his ‘daughter’ alive. You can tell that he takes no pleasure from the deaths and after 70 years he seems to have started trying to find ways of justifying what he’s doing to make it rest easier on his conscience. All this talk of how his victims have become immortalised and preserved has the clear whiff of bullshit about it, but it comes from a place of real guilt. That instantly makes him much more complex and interesting than the generic evil capitalist from Thin Ice or the Emojibots from Smile.

Equally as good is Mariah Gale as Eliza. The creepy wooden woman/daughter and later revealed to be the Landlord’s mother. The scene where both she and the Landlord confront each other over the terrible things he’s done to keep her alive has got to be one of the most heartbreaking and moving moments I think I’ve ever seen in Doctor Who. It’s dark and twisted, but also tragic and strangely touching. Suchet runs the full gambit of emotions from threatening to vulnerable, and Gale is able to match him equally with her breathtaking performance, portraying her character’s innocence and confusion before transitioning to strength and resolve when she realises what she must do. It’s a captivating and powerful scene that moved me near to tears. Despite everything that’s happened and all the horrible things he’s done, you do actually feel genuinely sorry for the Landlord, and I found myself caring for both him and Eliza much more than I ever did for any other character in the Moffat era.

This scene also contains something that has been largely absent from New Who. Subtlety! I’ve already spoken about the performances of Suchet and Gale, but there’s also the way in which this whole story connects to Bill. At one point the Landlord asks if the Doctor and Bill would go as far as he did to save someone they loved. Obviously one of the big details we know about Bill is that her mum is dead, and if this were a Moffat penned script, we’d most probably have gotten flashbacks of Bill staring lovingly at her mother’s photo while an oh so poetic tear trickles down her face just to ram the point home. Instead the camera just lingers on Bill for a moment after he asks the question. Pearl Mackie’s understated facial expressions said more than a flashback or 10 page monologue ever could. I’d almost forgotten that there was a time when Doctor Who actually respected the intelligence of its audience and didn’t feel the need to spell everything out in 50 foot high neon lettering.

I have to say Bill is really starting to grow on me. Now that the obnoxious oohing and aahing has been toned down, Bill is starting to feel like a fully realised person, and Knock Knock gives us a chance to explore other aspects of her character. She’s excited about travelling with the Doctor, but she seems reluctant to have her student life and TARDIS life mix. She wants to make a good impression for her gormless housemates, and someone as eccentric as the Doctor could jeopardise that. What I especially like about this is that she doesn’t have that same smug, bossy attitude that Clara had. She’s not the typical Moffat dominatrix who expects the Doctor’s life to revolve entirely around her. She’s simply a normal person trying to compartmentalise her life and priorities as best she can. Same goes for the bit where she works out how to find the secret entrance to the tower room or when she deduces that the Landlord can’t be Eliza’s father because of the age factor. If it were Clara, there would have been a lot of insufferable showing off. With Bill, it’s just presented matter of factly. We can revel in the fact that Bill is clever without the show trying to rub our noses in it.

Peter Capaldi is also impressive as the Doctor. In fact I feel this is the kind of story where this Doctor works best in. In large scale stories like Death In Heaven and Hell Bent, Twelve is required to act in a much more bombastic manner and ends up falling flat on his face because, as I’ve said loads of times now, that simply doesn’t work for this kind of Doctor. But with stories like Knock Knock, Into The Dalek and Mummy On The Orient Express, where the stories are much smaller and more self contained, Capaldi seems to be very much in his element. This kind of story just suits Twelve much more than the grand sweeping epics Moffat often tries (and fails) to write.

Now as I said, Knock Knock isn’t perfect, and there are some teeny tiny plot holes here and there. If the cockroaches feed on people every 20 years, why are they attacking people now? Why were they keeping Eliza alive? Why not just eat her? Why was that guy stuck in the wall when the record player was playing? How come Bill and co haven’t heard of this creepy old house where people keeping disappearing from? This has been occurring for 70 years. Surely it must have built up a reputation. If the cockroaches ate all the housemates, how did they bring them back to life at the end? Why didn’t they bring all the other victims back to life? Why did the house collapse at the end? But honestly, these are just minor nitpicks. They certainly didn’t affect my enjoyment of the episode whatsoever.

For me, Knock Knock is a special little gem of an episode. Is it flawless? No. Will it go down as a classic? Probably not. But to me, it serves as a stark reminder of what I feel has been missing from Doctor Who ever since Moffat took over back in 2010. In my less than humble opinion, the show could do with a lot more episodes like this going forward.

[thecaffeinebookwarrior]

Tips For Writing Time Travel:  An Illustrated Guide.

@jjpivotz asked:

“What is a good way that I could write time travelling without it being cliche?”

Ooh, I love questions like this!  They’re so much fun, and on a somewhat self-indulgent level, they really get me thinking on the tropes themselves.

So without further ado, here are my personal thoughts on writing about time travel:

1.  Embrace the fact that it’s not gonna make total sense.

This goes for a lot of creative fiction.  When I was writing my urban fantasy novel, for example, I used a lot of traditional mythological figures whose duties and depictions (i.e. one humanoid being reaping the dead despite the fact that over a hundred thousand people die a day, billion-year-old entities who still look and behave like teenagers, figures from religions whose world views wildly conflict interacting with each other, etc.) weren’t compatible with what we currently know about the laws of physics.  

And the sooner I resolved not to even attempt to explain it, the sooner my novel improved.  

The wonderful thing about fiction is that it doesn’t have to imitate reality as we know it;  the laws of the physical universe need not apply.  And as long as the characters in your universe accept that, so will the reader.  

I’ve had around twenty beta readers look at my book, and not one of them has poked holes in my casual disregard for the conventionally accepted rules of physical reality.  The suspension of disbelief is an amazing thing.

As for how to best apply this to time travel, take Back to the Future, for example. This is one of the best time travel series ever made, but if you really look at what’s going on, you’ll come to find that none of it really makes any sense at all.

First of all, Marty McFly is a popular high school student whose best friend is an eccentric nuclear physicist.  Conventional wisdom (and just about every fiction writing book or advice blog I’ve ever read) would dictate that this is a pretty heavy plot-point and warrants some explanation.  But the narrative never questions it, and as such neither does the vast majority of its audience.  

It is in this exact manner that Back to the Future handles its heaviest of all plotpoints, the act of time travel, which is the main driving force behind its entire plot.  

How does it explain Doc Brown’s ability to time travel?  Well, he invented the Flux Capacitor, of course.  What is a Flux Capacitor, you ask?  How does it work, exactly?  Well, fucked if I know.  All I know is that the narrative treats it like it’s a real thing, and by default, so do I.    

The same could be said for the magically changing family portrait, the fact that the characters can’t interact with their past or future selves without universal destruction, flying cars, and the fact that the McFlys’ future children inexplicably look exactly like them.  None of it makes any sense.  And it’s fucking magical.

Another of my favorite examples of this is pre-Moffat Doctor Who.  The science is campy, occasionally straight-up ridiculous, and unabashedly nonsensical, yet paves the way for some truly great and thought provoking storylines and commentary.  

Bottom line is, I don’t know how to time travel.  I’m guessing you don’t either, otherwise you probably wouldn’t be asking me for advice on how to write it.  Accept it.  Embrace it.  Don’t be bashful about it -- trust me, time travelers are probably a minority in your readership, so they won’t judge you.

So as to what would be a good means of writing time travel, the short answer is:  any way you want.  For obvious reasons, I’d stay away from old cars, police boxes, and phone booths, but with the power of the suspension of disbelief, virtually nothing is off the table:  a pair of magic sneakers, a refrigerator, a closet, a treehouse -oh, crap, that one’s been done before.  But you get the picture.  You can be as creative as you want to be about it.  Don’t be afraid to step outside the police box, so to speak.  

Trust in the magic of the suspension of disbelief, and don’t overthink things.  Your story and readers will thank you.

As for how to avoid other cliches, that brings me to my next point: 

2.  Look at the tried and true tropes of time traveling.  Now subvert them.

This might just be me and my adoration of irony talking, but since you specifically asked how to avoid cliche I’m going to indulge myself here.

Do the exact opposite of what people expect from narratives about time travel.  You know the old trope:  the protagonist steps on a bug, and comes back to the present to find the world being ruled by gorillas.  

I’m not telling you not to include drastic consequences for time travel, because there would probably be quite a few (at least if you believe in the chaos theory, which states every action has a universal reaction.)  

But you could toy around with the idea that fate isn’t something that can ultimately be altered at all, and that all the protagonist accomplishes is solidifying (or even triggering) a pre-existing outcome.   

My knee-jerk suggestion, as someone who takes fiendish glee in incorporating humor into my writing, would be to make the protagonist have some Forrest Gump-type encounters that unwittingly trigger huge, history-defining event, but it can also be significantly more tragic than that:  maybe the protagonist goes back in time to save his father from a hit-and-run car accident, for example, and then accidentally kills him.  Or perhaps he realizes that his father was a bad man (beat his mother, planned on killing someone, etc.) and makes a moral decision to kill him (which is also a great way to ask philosophical questions.  More on that later.)  

I don’t know what kind of time travel your writing or what your style of writing is, but these are things I’d personally just love to play around with.    

Or maybe time travel does change things, but it’s not even close to what the protagonist expected:  maybe his words of wisdom to his newly married mother about true love and the meaning of life and whatnot unexpectedly lead her to realize that she’s deeply unhappy in her current marriage, and he returns to the present to find her divorced (lesbian stepmom optional.)  

Maybe absolutely nothing at all changes, but he realizes that he’s responsible for some famous Mandela Effect, like the Bearenstein/Bearenstain discrepancy.  

Bottom line is, don’t be afraid to do the unexpected.  But conversely, don’t be afraid to use tried and true tropes, either:  regardless of how overdone they may seem to be, they can almost always be rejuvenated when interjected with a thought-provoking plot.

Which brings me to my final point:

3.  Make sure it has something to say.

Science fiction, especially the speculative variety, tends to be best when it begins by asking a question, for which it will later provide an answer.  Take, for example, Planet of the Apes.  The pervasive question of the movie is whether or not humanity is inherently self-destructive, which it ultimately answers with its famed final plot twist that humanity has long since destroyed itself.  

Rod Serling (who was incidentally responsible for the original Planet of the Apes, by the way) did this remarkably well:  almost every episode of the Twilight Zone packed a massive philosophical punch due to the fact that they followed this simplistic formula.  The episode would begin with the presentation of a question, big or small (frequently by the charismatic Serling himself) and by the end of the episode, that question would be answered. 

I’m not going to go in to detail here, as it would spoil the magic of uncovering the plot twists for the first time, but Serling used his speculation to tackle the narrow-mindedness of beauty standards in Eye of the Beholder, the dangers of fascism in Obsolete Man, the communist paranoia of the time period with the Monsters are Due on Maple Street, and countless more.  

I would recommend watching the original Twilight Zone for almost anyone looking to write speculative fiction such as time travel. 

Even if your work isn’t compatible with this specific formula of Question => Debate => Answer (which some work isn’t) it will still need to have some kind of underlying statement to it, or no matter how clever the science fiction is or how original the time travel is, it will fall flat.  

This is why Twilight Zone, Planet of the Apes, Back to the Future, and (pre-Moffat, as I always feel inclined to stress -- he does literally the opposite of almost everything I recommend here) Doctor Who still remain widely enjoyed today, despite the fact that many of their tropes have been used many, many times since they original aired.

So for time travel, remember that it is a means, not an end.  You could write the most cliched type of time travel story imaginable, and your audience will still feel fulfilled by it if your message is heartfelt, thought-provoking, and/or poignant.

Maybe you want to use time travel to make a statement about your belief in the existence of fate, or lack thereof.  In this case, using the Sterling Approach, you would have your story begin with the question of whether or not humans can alter or change destiny, allow the narrative/characters to argue the question back and forth for a while, and then ultimately disclose what you believe the answer to be.

Or maybe you want to use time travel to explore or subvert the treachery of history and how it is taught, and show how the true narrative can be explored, purposefully or otherwise, by the victors.  

Maybe you want to show that there’s no clear answer, or maybe no answer at all, a la the cheerful nihilism of Douglas Adams novels.

Either way, figure out what you want your message to be long before you put pen to paper, and then use time travel, like any other creative trope, as a means to an end to answer it.  Your story will thank you for it.

(I hope this helps!)