#or to take the extra effort to go back to bring the parasol to the statue

[chestersbraincell]

Probably not the first one to draw this metaphor but I just like how this is a neat little detail pointing to Asgore’s character being that of shouldering most of the burdens of his people in order to keep them as happy as he can. Idk.

[seijohsfairy]

you’ve been in love with kuroo tetsuro for years, silently supporting from the sidelines. it’s where you feel comfortable, felt- comfortable. so now that kuroo finds out you’re his most loyal fan?

.wordc. 9.5k tw manipulation, degradation!, corruption, bullying, dubcon/noncon, coercion, yandere kuroo, fingering, oral, Kuroo is on the world’s biggest ego trip

.author’s note. I finally finished this monster after struggling for so long ( ɵ̥̥ ˑ̫ ɵ̥̥) inspired by fanatic by @/jackrrabbit​. if you want to read an amazing bullying smut, it’s seriously perfection

+

An obsession. If someone asked, you’d never call it that. An appreciation of the sport maybe, or of the hard work and dedication of the players. But an obsession might’ve been more accurate, as you have been a fan for years now. At least you can admit it to yourself. Not a day goes by where you forget to think about volleyball, and more in particular, him. It’s not your fault it makes you so happy… It’s not at all, and yet—

You’re able to watch the young men through the open doors of the gym, the resounding bangs of spikes flattening against the polished floor filling the building. You huff out in the afternoon sun and hide under the sun-bleached, red parasol as best you can, before wiping a bead of sweat from your temple. Soon everyone will be pouring out of the classrooms, which brings a smile to your face. But for now, you spare another look inside the bright hall, following the red jerseys as they move swiftly around the court. The speed at which the balls connect with the floor have always impressed you, but your eyes are instead on the middle of the group, tracing the number one mindlessly.

“Senpai, are you alright?” your junior squeaks out. You flinch in surprise at her question, almost dropping the drink you’re holding in the process. Her short brown hair sticks to her face where a wide-eyed expression marks it, though a small, unsure smile stays in place. You quickly bring out a laugh though, waving off her concern.

“Oh, yeah! Sorry,” you put down the glass can and press your cool fingers to your forehead, smiling, “the heat just makes it hard to actually pay attention. Could you repeat that, please?”

“I’m just so glad you suggested this, s’all!” she beams, putting the last of the lemonade out on the table, each can in between ice packs. They’re already dripping, coming summertime close to unbearable. “My big brother always talks about the fanclub at home and that other teams don’t have a fanclub near as good as ours!” You smile at her while you pour chunks of ice into the white wine, putting it out too. The entire table is decorated with the team colors, flyers to one side, donation jar and cash register on the other, with all the drinks, ice pops and watermelon slices in the middle.

You even made all of the small, red cat charms that hang from the parasol yourself. A bit overkill perhaps, but no effort really feels big enough when you’re as dedicated to a team as you are, even if it’s embarrassing to say. But well… you’d do just about anything to support Nekoma and the man you’ve been crushing on for years now. While you peer up at the windows of the classrooms, mentally keeping track of just how much longer you’d have to wait for the rest of the fanclub to join you, you miss the proud look the younger girl sends your way. Yui, the libero’s younger sister, pulls her hair up in a tiny ponytail. “You must be so proud since you started it all by yourself.”

You look back down at her, flushing. “Of course I am proud of the fanclub, but I’m even more proud of our team. Y’know, I’ve been watching some of them since middle school and they all seem to enjoy it so much. It makes me want to support them in any way I can.” You’ve taken the requests of the team to heart to the best of your ability. Hopefully you can sell a lot, they’d really need new cleaning equipment and some of the shorts and jerseys could definitely be replaced with new ones.

“Of course Nekoma’s angel would say that,” a voice giggles, the black haired girl strolling up behind you. All the others walk close behind, right when the bell indicating the last class rings. The rest of the fanclub waves politely, many of the girls with their own healthy flush. “Make some space, Mrs. Kuroo, everyone will be getting out in a minute or so.” You give the other third-year a little poke in her side, looking down at the menu as you pick at the corner of the laminated sheet. It’s so silly, but the nickname makes you all warm inside. How nice it would be to actually be… well. You shouldn’t think so far ahead, or not ahead at all, since Kuroo Tetsuro has absolutely zero interest in you. The overflowing amount of love you have for him isn’t making up for anything.

“Don’t call me Mrs. Kuroo. It’s embarrassing,” you tell the raven-haired girl, glancing back inside the hall for just a moment to watch as said man gulps down his water, sweat drenching his hairline and dripping down his chin. “Even if I like it, he doesn’t know I exist.” Some of the girls coo at your admission, all of them at least aware that you’ve looked up to the Captain for years. Your friend sends you a knowing look, before cracking her fingers and getting to work on the cash register. She’s been trying to get you to say something for months, and with the last few weeks of high school growing closer and closer, you can’t even blame her.

But what would you even say to the guy you’ve crushed on for so long? After all, you’ve been in his class for three years now and he never once spoke to you directly either. He’d probably be creeped out by your dedication to him. Before you can think of any more, bunches of students start pouring out of the buildings, looking tired out by the day. When they see your stand, many of them light up, already taking out their wallets to get some cool lemonade. You clap your hands and look at the girls surrounding you, before nodding. “Alright, let’s do this! We’re going to sell everything out today. Yui, you get that side?” You turn to the first few customers and put on your best smile, handing them a menu. “Welcome to the Neko Outdoor Café! Would you like a drink?”

///

“Captain!” Yamamoto calls, pout more pronounced with each passing second. “Please let us take a break. Please.” He’s about to get on his knees and beg. “Come on, man. I need this.”

The raven haired man just lifts a brow in his direction, before turning his attention back to the bench so he can tie his shoelaces properly. “Shut up, you’re being noisy.” He doesn’t care to ask what the guy is on about, already more than annoyed at having to practice in this sweltering heat. Every movement feels slower than usual, it’s pissing him off.

“They’re going to sell out and leave, Captain!” the other tries again, tugging at the edge of Kuroo’s jersey like a child. In fact, he looks like he might burst into tears. The Captain ignores him.

“I’m sure they’re keeping some extras for us,” Yaku tries, smacking Lev’s hand away from his water bottle and downing the last of it.

Kenma hums. “You know they wouldn’t leave us with nothing, they’re all so thoughtful.” The setter is already trying to soothe a teary-eyed Yamamoto, while Kuroo straightens out to wipe himself down with a towel. “They probably have a whole pack of ice lollies stored away for after practice. Our cheer squad leader wouldn’t be caught dead forgetting about anyone.” At the mention of your name, the Captain frowns, the sound unfamiliar. “She even remembered to bring some mango for me last time, and I don’t even remember telling her I don’t like watermelon that much.”

“Who now?” Kuroo frowns. He pokes out his tongue to wet his lips, following his team’s gazes to outside the gym, where rows of students are lining up. He can just see the edge of a red table, curiosity peaked.

Kenma’s face blanks when he looks over at his long time friend. “The leader of the fanclub? She’s been to every one of our matches since like… eighth grade or something. How have you never noticed her?” Some of the boys turn to him in confusion too. Kuroo crosses his arms over his chest, before chewing on his answer. It’s not that he ignores anyone on purpose. But your name doesn’t ring a bell, neither does the description.

“Pretty sure she really likes you, too,” Lev suddenly says, getting up from his spot on the floor to bound closer to the door to watch past it. “She always wears clothes with the number 1 and your name on it. She’s very nice, she bought me chocolate milk after our last game.” He stares out the door for a moment longer, before perking up and waving for his older teammates’ attention. “Ooh ooh, she has ice creams for us, she’s calling. Can we please take a break, Captain?”

Everyone turns to the third year. Even Kenma is giving him an unspoken question with his expression. “Fine, whatever,” Kuroo just sighs, giving into their antics. “But after that we’re getting back to spike training and you better all jump higher than I’ve ever seen you jump.”

While waiting in line, he asks to point you out. You’re busy smiling at every single student that comes by, colored shadow falling over you because of the sun shade that is just as red as the rest of the table. Just as red as your flushed face, and as red as the shirt that you’re wearing with his name on it. You look kind, with a childlike joy on your face, innocent in the way you beam out warmth. And after staring at you for a while, you do start to look a bit familiar. Huh. So this is what his biggest fan looks like. He’s not let down, not exactly, though he does wish that you’d focus less on the lemonade and more on him as he waits in line with the rest of the team. But it’s understandable, you’re just trying your best. Even he can see that.

Suddenly, you look up from the cash register, having been shoved in the side with an elbow by your friend and in the split second he catches your eyes, he can see several emotions flash in them. The last one before you look away is definitely wide-eyed mortification though. You look away from him and turn to your friend, whispering something in her ear as your cheeks grow red-hot. You blank at her answer, before biting your lip. It’s strange, but something in the things you do are cute to him. How you nervously toy with the edge of your shirt. How you try to keep your eyes on the ground but glance back every so often anyway. How you put on a smile. You must really, truly like him. And he can’t say he doesn’t like at least that. That innocent expression on your face is to die for. Really.

After a minute or so, you seem to gather your wits and look up to walk from behind the stall. “Guys, you don’t have to wait in line. Come up here,” you wave them over, not looking at him at all. Somehow, this only makes him giddier, wanting to see you flush even harder. Maybe you’d pass out if he talked to you. Maybe you’d cry. Would you even be able to handle it if he got any closer? The smirk that clings to his lips is one of ego-filled happiness, he can’t help himself. Something about you makes him feel like he’d be able to break you with the slightest of pressure, and though he’s never quite wanted to control someone like that, he can’t say it doesn’t feel exhilarating.

Everyone moves out of the one line to skip to the front, as you busy yourself by glancing under the tables to pull out an extra cooler, opening it swiftly. That way your skirt pulls up insanely high, though you try to keep it down with one hand. Oblivious to what you’re doing, surely. His cute, little fan. He’ll have to give you a lesson on proper manners, but not now. All in due time. When everyone starts thanking you, you just rub your neck, straightening back up.

“How much are they?” Kenma asks, “I’ll pay. Is it alright if I get the money to you after practice though?”

“No, no!” you beam, “they’re free for you guys! I could hardly let our own team pay for some stupid ice pops and lemonade.” You don’t hesitate to smile at Kenma. Kuroo holds his tongue from breaking into your conversation for now, instead taking one of the watermelon slices and biting into it. You seem to sink into yourself a bit when he turns back in your direction, almost as if you’re trying to disappear into the background entirely. Would be hard though, with that bright a shirt. “We also have wine if the adults want any,” you continue, shooting Kai and Yaku a guilty glance then and trailing off. “Though that might not be a good idea if you’re still practicing.”

You still have yet to look back at him, creating a void of something in the pit of his stomach. Why don’t you want to look at him as much as he wants to look at you? “Are there any strawberry pops?” Lev asks, probably aimed at you but Kuroo’s already taking a step towards you before you can answer.

This way you’re not able to ignore him any longer. Your eyes are so big and stunned when you glance up at him, tilting your head back just so you can look him in the face. There you are, he thinks. You pull a lip into your mouth, cheeks burning with color. Your chest heaving up and down, heart clearly pounding so hard he swears he can hear it. And Kuroo is living for it, the thrill of making you so affected by his presence undeniable. He wants to be the one to make you so flustered, wants to be the one to taint it too. He does know that’s probably not normal, but it’s so tempting. He smiles down at you, watching when your lips tremble softly. Cute. He softly calls out your name, grinning wider when you seem to mellow for a moment at the sound. “Did you do all this yourself?” he asks, enjoying the starstruck expression on your face.

You have to take a moment to get yourself back on track, clearly. Understandable. “Mhm,” you manage though, looking anywhere but him again when you realize you’re staring. “W-Well, everyone helped plan it, of course. I just made everything they planned out.”

“Yeah?” His smirk has yet to leave his face, but if it could grow any wider, now would be the time. You give a shy nod, looking back up at him for a moment. “The lemonade looks good. The watermelon’s good too.”

You’re practically glowing at his compliment, taking a step back to roll yourself back and forth on the balls of your feet. He wants to place his hands on your shoulders to keep you still, but really, you might just faint if he does so he holds himself back. “T-thank you s-so much! I’m glad you like it. I hope you’ll be able to use the funds well, but if you ever need anything else, you can always ask me,” you lift your shoulder and smile at him for just a moment, blush still raging on your face. You blank then, quickly adding, “or any of the other girls! We’re all here to support you, so… p-please keep working hard and doing your best a bit longer!” You’re stuttering like crazy too. He’ll have to work that out of you.

Before he can say anything else, someone calls for your name, so you quickly bow and rush back to your spot behind the stall. The girls giggle and poke at you, some of them hardly subtle in their whispering and cooing. And Kuroo smiles, because he might have just found something new to peak his interest.

///

You couldn’t have known. Not really. You couldn’t have known the full extent of his anger and definitely not how it would turn on you. So why does it feel like you made a horrible mistake? As you are sweeping the last of the hall, you hear the familiar, resounding echo of volleyballs smacking against the smooth surface. It’s a sound that’s long grown near and dear to your heart. Still, you put the brush to the side to make your way to the gym door where it stands swung open. It’s a Friday. The Nekoma team doesn’t play volleyball after school hours on Fridays. You frown as you peek around the cold, metal door into the otherwise vacant hall. As the class representative this term, you’re basically expected to be the last one here.

The man causing the constant butterflies in your stomach is facing away from you, frustration seeming to radiate off him in angry, black swirls as he throws balls against the wall, making continuous tosses to himself. You wait for a moment longer, glancing back into the school building as you debate your options. Though you were unable to watch the end of practice, you saw the beginning. Kuroo was anything but the collected player he normally is, the sight of it making your heart ache. Very hesitantly, you knock your knuckles against the metal. You rather wouldn’t be putting yourself in his proximity by choice, last time enough to make you so flushed and flustered you were stumbling all over your words.

Still though, you just want to help him. Maybe you could make him feel just a bit better. “Kuroo-san?” you try softly when he doesn’t react. He catches the ball at your call, pausing for a second. Then he turns to you. A shadow on his face, tall shape seeming to loom over you even from afar. You dig your nails into your own palms at the sharp glare that’s sent your way, his eyes flicking over your entire body, coming to rest back on your face. He doesn’t say anything, so you try to gather your courage and clear your voice, taking a step into the gym. “I- Sorry, I heard you still practicing. Are you- I mean- I don’t want to assume or anything, b-but- you don’t normally practice on Friday.”

The brief flicker of courage you had soon sinks deep within the pit of your chest as the silence continues. He bounces the ball on the floor once before catching it again, lifting one of his brows. Still with that gleam in his eyes, the one set off by the darkness cast around him. Then he sighs, and in a second his smile is plastered back on. The smile you’ve grown so used to seeing from afar, but it doesn’t feel quite right. It certainly doesn’t reach his eyes. It looks a bit off too, lopsided like he’s trying to convince himself to keep it up. “You— Ah, you’re the… fan club girl,” he nods. He tosses the ball up a few times, seemingly thinking, before he clicks his tongue. His deep voice resonates through the empty hall. “Yeah, sorry if I’m bothering you. I wanted to get some more practice in.”

You wring your hands into the front of your shirt, mindlessly bunching it up in between your fingers. When his eyes are back on you, you have to fight yourself from taking a step back. “No, you’re not bothering me at all, I don’t expect any less from our team Captain.” You swallow. Then, barely louder than the thumping of your heartbeat against your ribs, a thought tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. “Would you like me to help you practice for a bit?” It’s a little thing, so small, and you’ve done it for Lev and Kenma plenty of times. But your hands shake when you ask.

Kuroo’s eyebrows pull tightly together, his expression looking so off-putting even when you normally think everything about him is beautiful. You think he’s perfect, even drenched entirely in sweat and with grooves dug deep under his eyes, exhausted to the bone, so why? Why does he glare at you this way, and how can you make your heart stop wavering in your chest? You briefly stand there to think about what you just said, trying to figure out exactly what you did wrong to make him feel even more shitty, but come up blank. He must have misread your tone of voice, or maybe you had a dumb expression on your face. Just some stupid mistake you made. That’s the only explanation you have why amazing, gorgeous, perfect star player Kuroo is acting the way he is.

“Do you even know anything about volleyball? You don’t look like you do.” The sharp comment feels like a slap to the face, and you take in a little breath as you attempt to rid the unsettling tension between you two. Maybe soothing him isn’t the way to go, but you know Kuroo makes himself feel better with practice and that is something you can do. For him, you could for hours.

“I— I can… serve alright,” you hesitate, looking from his face to his shoes instead. “I know a l-lot about volleyball and though I- I might not be the best, I’d still help, right?” His sharp eyes are still on you like an accusation, and no, no, no, this is all wrong but you don’t know how to fix it.

“Aah,” Kuroo coos then, chuckling to himself as he passes the ball your way, “you want to help me.” You barely catch it, clutching it close to your chest as he motions you closer with his hand. “O‘course you do.” With sheepish steps you make your way toward him because he asked, staying an arm’s length away for your own poor heart. Last time you were this close to Kuroo, all you could do was give some mindless encouragement, even though you were trying. You just couldn’t help get flustered back then. A cold shiver makes its way up your spine though, and you fight the pressing feeling to run. This is your favorite person in the world you’re looking at, and you’d do anything for him. You would, really. “Because you’re my fan, aren’t you?” he echoes your thoughts, and you bob your head in reply.

Your voice is barely above a whisper now, throat closing up when he leans in as if to inspect you more thoroughly. “Yes, of course, Kuroo-san. I’ve been a fan since I first saw you play a match back in middle school.” You wince at your honesty. Don’t tell him that, your mind screams, but it’s too late. All you can do is bite your lip to keep more from tumbling out.

“Yeah, yeah, so I heard.” He gleams, petting your hair and you try to keep your elation to a minimum, because his eyes are still just as sharp as they were when you first walked in, but butterflies flutter in your stomach. His fingers linger for a moment, the weight of his hand making your heart jump. It’s gone soon enough. “You in my class?” You nod eagerly, but while you do he’s already speaking again. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You’re my biggest fan, huh?” He’s leaning closer again, closer, too close, almost like he’s going to kiss you and you might sink through the floor if he gets any closer.

You try not to let the faint smell of his cologne overwhelm you, his face flushed at the edges of his cheeks because of the exertion. You open your mouth to figure out a response again, but Kuroo is faster. “You come to each match, hoping I’d notice you, right? Begging for my attention like a little kid, wearing my name on your body like that. Don’t you feel embarrassed?”

It takes your brain a while to unfilter the words, playing and replaying them now that you take a step back. “Aren’t you embarrassed to be so obsessed with me? Such a cute, little fangirl, just begging for a look your way?” No. It’s not like that, you are not like that. You’re not obsessed, you just care a lot about him. About the entire team. “Pretending to be into volleyball so you can talk to me, right? Do you talk to Yaku’s sister so you can get to me? Do you talk to Kenma so you can get to me too?” You want him to stop talking, why is he still talking? Why is he acting this way at all?

“N-No, it’s not like that,” you bring out, flushing when his hand wraps around your one shoulder to keep you from backing away from him. He straightens out to his full height, towering above you and as you follow his tall body up to his expression, you hate how he is smiling. A loathing, off-centered smile that gleams on his handsome face. The feeling to run grows so strong in your mind that for a moment you can barely ignore it. There’s something wrong. But of course you remain, you just want to make him feel better. “It’s not like that at all. They are my friends. I love volleyball.”

“You love me, Y/N-chan?” he asks then, dark eyes glazing over.

“I— I’m your biggest fan,” you settle on responding. Wouldn’t it be too much to admit you love him, even if you do? He doesn’t seem to take it, looking down at you with thinly veiled irritation now. The fingers on your shoulder tighten, though you’re too distracted to notice. “I mean- Of course I… love… you, but not in an obsessed way! I just have a lot of respect for how hard you work,” you drawl out, throat closing up when the gleam on Kuroo’s face seems to drop in favor of something softer. Something like admiration. You used to love how he would wear his emotions on his face, but now it’s too much. He’s still not satisfied, you can see it. “And I’d do anything to make you feel better so-”

“Hah. Aren’t you just incredibly sweet,” he sighs, finally letting go of your shoulder. You can feel the weight of it long after it’s gone, warmth trailing down your limbs tentatively. You’re so glad you let out a trembling puff of relief. He takes a deep breath, before he smiles again. Softer, familiar, and your heart slowly comes back to life. This is how it’s meant to go, this is how you always imagined it as Kuroo leans down to brush a strand of hair away from your face back behind your ear, sweet and tender. Hair that you keep longer than you’d want because you know Kuroo likes it that way. You’re sure your stress of earlier was showing on your face, cheeks burning for attention. “You’re so pretty like this, my little fangirl. Mine.”

You don’t miss the drop in his voice, a possessive tone that seems misplaced. As he brushes a knuckle past your cheekbone, tingles pool in your belly. “I’ve had a really tough day today, you have no idea. But I’m glad you’re here now. I think I do know how to fix my shitty mood, actually!” He takes your hands in his then, enveloping them with soft traces of his fingers. He pulls you toward the side of the gym, dragging you behind him. Kuroo Tetsuro is holding your hands. It feels too quick, sprung on you so suddenly it makes your head spin, but they are just so warm around yours like you hoped they’d be. The dark-haired man looks back over his shoulder. “You said you will help me, right?”

“Mhm,” you smile, watching him, how his shoulders move under the red volley jersey and his hair waves softly with each step. And he’s still holding your hand. This must be a dream. You’re on a mindless path until he walks you past the lockers and the damp feeling of the shower air hit your face. That’s when you slow your feet and pull against him a little, blinking out of your daze to glance to the side. Kuroo turns to face you. “Hey, this is the boys’ room.” Your obvious statement makes him chuckle, one hand coming up to cup your cheeks and though it’s insanely overwhelming, you don’t have the heart to pull back. He squishes your cheeks together until your lips turn into a cute, little pout.

“You’ve never been in a boys’ locker room, sweet thing? You’re just that good, huh?” Kuroo stares you down with his pretty, golden eyes while you fail to answer. Isn’t being good supposed to be a positive thing? But he says it like it’s something dirty, like you’re not quite right and you can’t help the sinking feeling that fills you to the brim. He pushes the door to your side into lock, the loud clang making your heart race. When he turns back to you, the darkness in his face is what scares you most.

Cats don’t eat cats, do they—

He doesn’t hesitate to grab you by the shoulder and shoves you up against the lockers, your back connecting with the cold metal sharply. You wince, his hand still around your cheeks. It’s so much bigger than you, you realize, he’s so much bigger than you. That never scared you before, but now you’re painfully aware of the looming shape and the way he’s able to look down at you like this. You swallow and keep his golden gaze. But he releases his hold on your face to hold the back of your neck, long fingers splayed across the soft skin, before leaning down so far into you, you can feel the tremble of his breath on your face. “Would you like me to kiss you?”

Your eyes are wide, unbelieving. Of course you do, but… You wait for what feels like a lifetime, his warmth too close to you. You can’t say no, can you? So you nod and drop your shoulders, eyes fluttering closed. If he were to kiss you all those uncomfortable feelings swirling inside would surely vanish. Kuroo hovers his lips over yours, you can feel them so close, but no more than that. And he chuckles, tilting your head to the side with two fingers instead. “No. You don’t deserve it yet. Don’t you think you have to work a bit harder for it? I know you’re good at that.”

He walks toward you until you’re fully pinned to the cold locker in between his legs, as he connects his lips with your neck. His lips are so hot, like steaming coals on you, and you can’t help but grab onto his bicep for support. It flexes under your touch. He kisses down your throat and jaw, lips dragging trails of kisses and tongue carving paths down to your collarbones and to the edge of your shirt.

And you’re so overwhelmed that the person you’ve loved for so long is actually touching you, that you don’t notice how tight his grip is wrapped around your neck, fingertips pressing ovals into the expanse. “You just wanted this the whole time, huh,” he coos, voice sickly sweet. But when he looks up at you from under those lashes, the gold in his eyes has the sharpness of a blade, daring you to reply. You shudder when his hand drops down to drag your shirt up. “Bet you’ve had so many guys hoping that one of them would feel and taste like me.” He unceremoniously shoves it up from your body, over your shoulders. You look to the side where it drops to the floor, your school uniform a crumpled mess.

“Kuroo-san,” you bring out, self consciously wrapping your arms around yourself to cover up. You don’t like this. You don’t like him telling you that you’ve had people just to prepare for him, don’t like him eating up the sight of you like you’re a piece of meat and you definitely don’t like how he presses his thigh in between your legs to pin you up to the locker. “W-what are you doing?”

He huffs in amusement, tangling his fingers into the hair at the top of your neck to tug back your gaze towards his. “You can drop the politeness, silly girl,” he says again, letting go to brush softer circles into your skull. His lips brush over yours as you stand there, trembling, unsure what to do. How can you say no to him if he’s here, so close, with you for the first time in ever? He taps his fingers on your hands to make you release your hold on yourself, which you do with a bit more coaching. Maybe you just think this is going way too fast because it is him. The boy that offers his friends water before drinking himself, the one with the loud laugh that rings through the halls and makes your heart thump. The guy you’ve been head over heels with. That one.

This is okay, you say to yourself, calm down. His other hand traces along the bottom of your bra as soon as you drop your arms to the side, slipping a finger under just enough to lift it from your skin and you shiver. “You gonna take this off for me?” he asks, rubbing his thigh in between yours more. You can’t answer because you’re dropping your head back against the locker, overwhelmed and unsure still, with the lack of oxygen getting to you all you can do is let out a little whimper. You don’t know a lot about this, you’re sure he does. The hand around your neck drops so he can flip your skirt up, chuckling at your cute panties. You look down in embarrassment and attempt to shove the plaid fabric back down over your thighs but then he lets out a growl, holding it in place. “You wear my name on your body like my personal whore. Don’t play too shy to follow through.”

His long fingers trace over the edges of the panties, where you take deep breaths to calm down. You can’t help but push your waist down on his muscular leg for some friction, looking to the side when he chuckles. “You really are a little slut.” This time you shake your head though, pouting at him.

“I’m not, Kuroo.”

“Liar,” he breathes, pressing his nose to the crook of your neck. “You act like a well-mannered princess but we both know you want to be put in your place.” Not waiting up for a response, he lifts you by your thighs up higher, so he can bury his face into your covered chest, dragging his tongue over the one cup. You can feel the wetness of his tongue seep through the lacy fabric onto your skin. It’s warm and uncomfortable, his breath cooling your skin down instantly. “If you’re not going to take it off, I will,” he gleams, looking up to check your expression again. Ever so slowly he starts pushing the fabric up, not bothering to unhook the piece of clothing. Instead he toys with brushing over your pointed nipples, kissing up your sternum. His eyes flick to yours continuously, like he’s making a show of undressing you. He licks his lips, leaning towards you again.

“Kuroo,” you manage to mumble, resting your one hand on his shoulder to push him away from you. You stumble when you land back on your feet, looking down at the floor. Burning heat covers your entire face, from your cheeks up to your ears. It’s physically painful to be so near him, and the tight grip on your thighs isn’t helping. Your heart is pitter pattering so hard it might break through your ribcage. Despite how much you dreamed about falling in love with him, it wasn’t like this. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I have to lock up the halls and go home.” Your friend’s voice rings through your head then, something about bad guys and the way they prey on kind girls like you, creating cold goosebumps along your arms again. Kuroo Tetsuro can’t be one of those guys, you’ve looked up to him for so long. If he is, what would you even do? “I want to—”

“Don’t lie,” he interrupts, glaring up at your disapproval, “don’t ruin this for me.” Without hesitation he locks his mouth onto your exposed skin, rubbing his knee against your covered center, hard. It sends a spike of heat down your body. You breathe out at the rough laving of his tongue, only soothing after he sucked and bit the tender skin. His one hand reaches up to pull down your panties from under your skirt as soon as you’re closing your eyes, and though you open your mouth to stop him he shuts you up by pinching your thigh sharply between his long fingers. “I told you to stop lying to me. Whatever comes out of that pretty mouth next best be the truth.” He trails his digits up and down a few times, the slightest soothing to your anxiety.

“I… I just don’t—” you swallow, looking away from his eyes to focus on the shine of the lights. They make your eyes burn, but at least you don’t have to undergo his vicious glare this way. It really feels like he despises you for even breathing in his direction, though then why would he be kneeled in front of you. The conflict makes you nauseous, more insecure than you’ve ever been around him and your throat closes up a bit. When his stroking stills, you push through the words anyway. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

He laughs. A warm, bubbly sound against your thigh. “No one’s ever stuffed you with their fingers before?” He looks gleeful, nuzzling your hip in a too-intimate gesture. You’re his fan, but he barely knows anything about you. You slowly shake your head, cheeks warming. His hands start moving again as he shuffles closer between your thighs so his mouth is level with your chest. As he eyes you up and down, he giggles to himself. “Did my slutty fan get herself off on the thought of me? D’you beg for me when coming around your useless, little fingers?” You bite your lip, eyes flicking down at him when he calls your name. “I’m waiting for an answer~”

“I don’t—,” you bite out, flustered and feeling small. He must hear the edge in your voice. With a quick flick of his wrist, he brings his down on your thigh, pinching you hard for good measure. You yelp and grab hold of his head to steady yourself, before quickly pulling your hand away again. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Wanna try again?” he mumbles though, trailing two fingers up and down the crotch of your panties. It feels warm, and really good, but you’re still cold to the touch. Is this really okay? You doubt it. When he starts licking at the edge of your panties you shudder, letting your weight fall into the sturdy locker for support. “Hm, d’you get off to me?”

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth. You might have touched yourself down there once or twice, but in your imagination that was always long after he’d gotten to know you. In your imagination he was gentle, caring. Nothing like the impatient trailing of his fingers, like he can’t wait to play a game you never agreed to. At his golden gaze, you let the truth spill. “Sometimes,” you breathe, immediately hiding your face in your own shoulder from embarrassment.

“That’s what I thought, dumb girl.” He pushes your panties unceremoniously to the side to collect the slick there, grinning. You didn’t even notice you were getting wet while trying not to anger him. He doesn’t waste time taking advantage of this fact though. He spreads your bottom lips open with his fingers, looking up at you easily. His deep voice feels loud in the pressing silence of the abandoned gym, and you can’t help but wonder how much trouble you’d get in if anyone found you here. “Listen, brat,” he calls, pushing his lips to the top of your thigh to bite the plush skin. You jerk away from him with a cry, but he doesn’t let up.

“I’m gonna push my fingers inside that filthy cunny of yours, stretch out your little hole so you can actually fit something in there. ‘Cause I know you’re a good girl, so you’re probably gonna go braindead if I fuck you like this.” He chuckles at your hitched breathing. You can’t even begin to understand. The person you love more than life itself wants to fuck you? Well, his fingers are still playing down there, slowly pushing into you and they are thick, much thicker than yours. You can’t believe it. Kuroo Tetsuro wants to fuck you, in the boys locker room of the school gym while you should be long on your way out by now. No, you can’t. But you don’t find the words to speak up under his gaze, not wanting to disappoint him. If he notices your mental struggle, he doesn’t show it. “Then you’re gonna help me out like you promised by sucking my cock, right?”

You freeze up. You did say you’d help him, you said that didn’t you… But you didn’t know it would be like this, if you did you would’ve said ‘no’. You curse yourself for saying anything at all, trying to calm your heart as best as you can. You’re feeling so overwhelmed. By his touch, his presence, the situation, the stress put on your poor, frazzled brain. When two of his digits are halfway inside you, you let out a whimper. That’s at least three of your own, you already feel spread so thin. Your fingers find purchase in his soft, raven hair, needing anything to cling to. “Say, ‘Yes, Tetsuro’,” he coos, pressing a row of kisses over the front of your panties, chuckling at the little bow. But the sweet tone is taken away as soon as it comes. “Say it.”

“Y-Yes… Tetsuro.” He hums happily, shoving his fingers inside you in one swift move until his palm is against your center. Your legs almost give out at the feeling. “Ah- ah! S’too much, Kuroo.”

The raven haired man grins at that, curling his digits inside you and pulling them out just as quickly. Like striking a match. You reach up your hand to bite into it, hoping to contain your sounds. Your slick sounds ring through the empty locker room as Kuroo slides them back in and out at a punishing pace. “My dumb, pretty baby really is clueless, huh,” he sighs, long fingers sliding under your knee to place it instead on his shoulder.  It only debases you even more, struggling to stay upright as he brings his face in between your legs. When you whimper in embarrassment, calling his name, he scoffs. “You should let me play this how I want to, since you clearly don’t know anything.”

The curl of his long fingers brushing up against the soft, spongy part of your walls makes your brain numb. His words hurt. You don’t want them to, you wish they didn’t. “My dumb slut,” he hisses, before the harsh lines of his mouth are buried between your thighs. His tongue sweeps out to deliver a long swipe from his pumping fingers to the top of your slit, before swirling around the nub making you tremble. Your belly tenses, coil in the pit of your stomach growing irritatingly tight as he grinds his face against your pussy, obscenely slurping at the wetness. Your fingers twitch in his fluffy hair, attempting to comb through it best you can as your eyes flutter closed.

“Kuroo, ‘m close. Really close.” You can barely raise your voice enough to make it be heard over his motions, though he looks up at the call of his name. “I want to cum,” you say, “please.” He doesn’t still his fingers, but the twitch in his brows seems to indicate disaster, and you quickly bite your lip to think. “C-Can I?”

“D’you think this is about you, Y/N-chan?” He grins at your blown out expression, relishing in the wide eyes and bobbing lip. He uses his thumb to continue putting pressure on your clit, as he tuts his lips. “I’ll decide if or when you cum, because you’re mine. And when I decide to stuff this cunt you best consider yourself lucky, baby, that my cock is breaking open your perfect, little body.”

“Y-yes, but—” you bring out, ignoring the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You can’t hold it if his fingers only speed up their devouring of your body, mouth wrapping around you to suck hard.

“Don’t cum yet,” he mumbles, going so hard it’s making your vision sway. His tongue and mouth go harder, despite his order. And with mindless pleas you come around his fingers, shutting your eyes tight at the white splotches. Legs flexing and fingers tightening in his hair. You let your head drop as he works you through the feeling, until you’re pushing him off from overstimulation. Your cheeks feel akin to a forest fire when you open your eyes to his huff, tracing the lines of the hardwood floor under your feet. When he pulls his fingers out of you, you can feel some of the slick drip down your thighs and you instantly burn brighter.

But you don’t get to think about it, because Kuroo is straightening up before you, back to his overwhelming posture above you. He stares at you for a moment, before he leans in. Out of instinct, you lean back, away from his face when he wipes it. The glint in his eyes is a scorch mark on your sanity, his face so close to yours. “Can’t you listen to what I say, or are you just that cockhungry and stupid?” Your head is shaking side to side before you can stop it, hoping that you’ll be released soon. But you said you’d help him and if you don’t, Kuroo might hate you. You don’t think you could handle that. Rejection would’ve been better, after all. “Get on your knees and make it up to me.”

You choke back a sob at the order, looking up at him with big eyes again. You don’t want to, you don’t want to sit on the cold floor of the locker room where teenage boys drag their sweaty bodies— Kuroo seems to soften slightly at your expression, lowering his palm to your crown to pat your head, gently brushing over your temple. “You’re my biggest fan, aren’t you?” The low rumble of his voice right next to your face, his warm body so close and the curl of his pretty lips, everything makes you so docile. Dreamlike. “You’re really helping me so much,” he coos, and before you know it his mouth is on yours. His mouth… is on yours. And he tastes like you, and he’s kissing you. You freeze, not stopping him as he grabs your hands and loops them around his neck, his own picking you up to melt into an embrace.

Like two lovers in a painting, he claims your mouth with his tongue and curls your feeble body into him. So strong, with hard lines of his body that make your heart swell under your ribs. His hand on your thigh, the other on your neck, he kisses you and you think the stars might be exploding around you. He pulls back for a moment enough to breathe, before peppering another few kisses on your agape lips until you could turn black and blue from the bruising weight of your adoration. Kuroo brushes your hair away as you look at him, chest heaving against his each swell of your lungs. He starts peeling his lanky body away from you. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought that you were my biggest fan, but if you don’t—”

“No, I am!” you squeak, grabbing onto his jersey to keep his warmth close.

The noirette gives a faint smile, shaking his head. You don’t stop to question him acting so different from before, since your greedy brain clings to every word. “It’s okay,” he mumbles, “I’m used to being taken advantage of by girls.” His eyes shift to the side, lips dropping into a downturn. “They tell me how much they care about me so that I’ll have them, then leave me. I know my teammates are always the favorites anyway. So I understand that you don’t want to do anything more, it’s okay.”

“No Tetsuro, I want to, I swear!” you blurt out, grabbing his large hand despite the jitters in your system. He gives you a slight raise of his eyebrow. “I want to— s-suck you off.”

He chuckles, gaining back some of the brightness to his eyes. “You can’t even say it without stuttering.” The hand on your neck slides to your shoulder, slowly pushing you toward the ground. You hesitate for another moment, before dropping to your knees when the pressure becomes too heavy. When you’re eye level with his shorts, you swallow, bringing up your hands. The fabric is pulled taunt, showing off your effect on him. Ever so slowly, you pull the elastic of the red shorts down, taking his boxers with them in the process. You push them down until his hard cock is freed, curving up towards his belly and twitching with anticipation. Kuroo just bites his lip when you look up at him. “Give it your best shot, baby.”

He’s hot and heavy in your hand, tip glistening with precum. You slowly start moving your hand down his length, but you’re clearly not going fast enough because his hand is back in your hair, yanking you closer to his dick this time. He presses the tip to your lips, and you whimper out as you open your mouth. He’s quick to grab hold of himself to push inside, too quick and stretching you painfully. He’s big and wide and you immediately know you’ll ache once this is done. But as he starts working himself deeper, your eyes fluttering at the feeling and focusing on not choking, he makes pretty grunts that you tell yourself make this worth it. He reaches the back of your throat with plenty to spare, and you bring your hand up to hold yourself on his thigh. It stings.

But he doesn’t stop, even when you whimper around him and push at his leg. “Take it all the way,” he grunts, cocking his head back. The noises you make only make him more vocal, but you’re fighting through the feeling of panic in your chest. Each time he pulls back more saliva messes up your face, keeping Kuroo’s attention on the pretty way you take him. “You think you deserve my attention? My dumb, useless little bitch wants my approval?” He grunts when he hits the back of your throat again. “Because if you can’t even take my cock in your mouth without drooling all over yourself, I don’t think you do deserve it.” He slows his hips when you make a throaty sound, fingers tangled tight in your hair as he pushes in until your nose is pressed to his skin, before letting you back. You gasp for air when you’re finally let up, holding a sob that threatens to crawl out of your throat.

“Kuroo, I can’t,” you bring out, wiping your fingers under your eyes to get rid of any tears, but he doesn’t let go. Your voice is already raspy, grating against your tender throat.

“Yes you can, you’re doing well.” He pushes his cock back to your lips and though you’re more prepared for it this time you’re still shocked by how big he feels. Spit seeps out along the edges of your mouth, tongue being pushed down and your lungs struggling. He moves your head up and down his cock over and over, barely leaving you enough time to take a couple deep breaths. He slowly starts fucking your face when the tears spill over your cheeks and clump your lashes, hissing when you gag on him. “That’s how you suck a cock, idiot. Can’t do anything right without my help, can you?” His words just make you cry more. He bruises your throat until you can’t take any more, pulling out of his grip despite the pain and falling back onto your butt.

“Kuroo,” you cry out, losing control over your own tears. Your voice sounds double, like it’s been split in two. “I don’t like this.” A little squeak falls from your lips, airways painful and ragged. “I want—,” this time you can’t hold back the sob, “I want you to be nice to me.” You sound so pitiful, even to your own ears. You’re crying. But the man you’ve looked up to for so long is calling you all these names, making you feel so dumb. Are you really that dumb for liking him, supporting him, being his fan? “I don’t wanna do any more.” Tears are flowing, wet and warm down your cheeks and neck. Stop, stop crying. You reach a hand up to smear them away, but in their place new ones still come. “Please, I wanna go home.”

“Shh, shhhh,” he hushes, petting the top of your head like you’re a well-behaving pup, and you hate how you lean into it. The idea of yourself makes you sick to your stomach. Why are you even letting him walk all over you like this? Is this really the amount of self respect you have? Kuroo peers down at you between his legs. “You’re doing so well for me. You’re the best fan I could ask for. I’m sure you can take a bit more.”

“No,” you squeak when he reaches for your face again, “it hurts and I don’t like it.”

Kuroo stills. Regards you with a long, drawn-out breath, before humming in what you pray is understanding. “Alright,” he helps you up from the floor, steadying you in his arms and moving you both to one of the benches instead. “I wouldn’t want to hurt my number one fan, would I?” He sits down on the bench first, pulling you to sit on his thighs facing him. You wipe the mess of tears and saliva away as best you can, watching as Kuroo slides you closer to him without a care in the world. And you want to be mad, you want to push off him and do anything other than sit here and take it, but you can’t. You can’t, because you’re weak. You can’t, because you’re an idiot fangirl, and he’s been everything you’ve wanted since you were thirteen.

“Push your legs together,” he orders, squishing your thighs and reaching down to slip his cock in between them. He fucks your legs with the last of his restraint, pace from fast to punishing, kneading the doughy expanse between his fingers and pressing his forehead to your shoulder. You can feel the warmth of his breath, the shudder down his spine and the tensing of his legs below you, but you don’t process it. Everything feels far away. And then he calls out your name, and cums on your thighs, spilling white all over your panties and skin. He kisses your neck, and your lips after that. And you just stare at the tiles of the boys room showers before he slides you off of him.

Your legs tremble. He quickly uses a towel to clean himself up before tucking himself back in, and smiles down at you. “Thank you so much, baby, that was perfect.” He leans down to press a kiss to your temple as he hands you the towel. “Clean up?” The fluffy towel with the red cat embroidered on it is stained with the cum you clean off yourself, as tears roll down your face. You loved him so much, but now you just hate him. Embarrassed, hurt, useless. Kuroo’s bright face as he talks is another slap in yours. “Lighten up, I’ll lock up the gym for you, okay?” He smiles when you lift your eyes to his figure in the doorway, your crumpled skirt bunched in your hand. “And don’t even worry about it, I’ll walk you home. It’s the least I could do for my fan.”

It is the least he could do.

You nod and put up your most convincing smile.

///

thank you so so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed. did this have to be so long? probably not. did i make it that long anyway? yes. mean kuroo will live rent free in my brain for the coming six months.

[box-bunny-grey]

Who wants to hear a random jackass ramble about Shadowlands and not edit what he wrote? No one? Too bad.

I’ll start this by saying that this is from the perspective of a Mistweaver monk, Necrolord Covenant, who only does content through pugs who cleared Normal Nathria and as of now has never cleared past a seven keystone.

So when I wrote out an outline for this one late night for the hell of it, I was thinking I’d be positive. That I’d say I had problems with the game but the main meat of the game, the group content, was still good.

This opinion has shifted.

So I’m just going to ramble through what I put in my outline and then see if it looks good.

The Good (Sometimes)

So as I said group content feels good… When it’s good.

Mythic 0 was a lot of fun early in expansion because groups were generally patient. Like I’d have a plaguefall group that was just really positive even as we wiped a few times getting a feel for the second boss, and was super receptive to advice. Even with the Sanguine Depths being pretty aggravating at zero plenty of groups were kind, and hell being able to heal tanks through it as they rushed through felt rad. Even played with a friend tanking a few times and it felt awesome to just be around and do well.

Nathria is also great at feeling like a logical progression of things. A lot of raids can feel like there’s a bunch of quarters that just exist, but Nathria did feel like a real siege. Starting off dealing with the first line of defense, dealing with the animal tamers before they could unleash the hounds, dealing with an infestation that could come back to bite you if left alone, culminating in that portion in the defeat of a boss established earlier in the leveling experience and technically dealing with the first major threat: the anima leaking into the maw. From there you deal with an attempted thief in the armory that should not be left to their own devices, keep Kael’thas from becoming a weapon to remove that option from Denathrius, and deal with his most powerful sycophants. I actually really like Sludgefist as an obstacle to the finale bosses and the reuse of Shriekwing’s room: Shriekwing might have bloodied the floor but kept everything intact, Sludgefist if there to say “Denathrius doesn’t care if he has to take down the whole castle, at this point you’re too dangerous.” And the end of the Stone Legion Generals and Denathrius was a nice was to finish up the instance.

Then everything goes not so good.

Mythic+ woes

Mythic+ is fun… When your group is competent. I’m not even talking going full meta here. I’ve had awful DH tanks as well as DH tanks that react amazingly. The bad runs where the DH tries to act like running at the speed of sound far above his ilevel, and the good runs where when I die because there’s so much to keep track of the DH IMMEDIATELY starts gliding back to where I’d spawn to make sure we don’t lose the progress we’ve gotten on the mobs. I’ve had amazing WARRIOR tanks in runs, and that’s a class I’ve been told right now is at the bottom of the meta in so many ways.

But then you have groups that disperse as soon as they see there’s no bloodlust, or call for it repeatedly when no one can (look I pug I have to take what I can get, I’m lucky I don’t get full melee groups honestly). Or more recently a group that could not get past blightbone in Necrotic Wake because someone kept getting eaten by their mob and getting it to explode, causing AOE damage I could not heal through in a Mythic 9 at my gear. Or a group in Plaguefall that, when I died because I had to focus on healing because the tank wasn’t tanking the second boss right and the DH and the tank accuse me of not paying attention when that disease he does because the tank wasn’t doing their job is pretty hard to keep off and would make my life much easier of the tank remembered that but no it was my fault.

I am still mad.

Speaking of Plaguefall, that comes back to my favorite experience of assholes in Mythic+. Had two warlocks in party, so two soulstones for battle rez. I die. No soulstone. Alright, it’s trash, guess I gotta walk back. Do so. Get to boss. Die again, don’t even remember what. No soulstone. Okay, maybe they’re mad because I died to something easy. Someone asks about battle rez. “Sorry it’s on CD think the healer used it.” I say I got no battle rez. They get uppity. Other warlock used their soulstone on themselves. People keep talking about it. Other warlock gets angry because he thinks they’re talking about them. Leaves. We manage to 4 man it.

I was not happy and now I do not like Plaguefall.

Raid time

When I completed my first Castle Nathria is was about 3 AM. It was a pretty painless run, mostly one shots with a couple of hiccups. It started at 9 PM. This was a mostly good run. That’s a good run. Now imagine what happens when you have a bad run. But I figured hey, late night lost on a Saturday is fine, it seems like even pugs with no voice chat can finish raids on normal easy, so pugging, and I got 10/10 so I could always do earlier runs, especially guild runs. Should be fine right?

I’ve learned how many melee do not know what an interrupt is.

I’ve learned how bad some guides are when giving kill orders for heroic over normal.

I’ve learned how easily people can kill a raid not realizing very obvious tactics will leave death pools behind.

I’ve learned Council of Blood is the big obstacle for any pug to find out whether or not you should be here, even more than Sludgefist.

Which brings us to the final point.

Oh Boy! 35 Anima!

Cold to the point of sub-zero take: loot drops in Shadowlands suck. This is coming from someone who got lucky in one of his Castle Nathria full clears and got multiple pieces in a single week. But overall the frustration of groups, Myhic+ or Raid, gets exacerbated when you see that 35 anima drop, and then notice the asshole who kept dying got an upgrade.

Mythic 0 works out well enough, the dungeons are easy enough and with every boss in them dropping something, even with the weekly lockout, feels a lot better than putting your all into a raid only to get nothing. I’d say the deluge of loot from 0 helped keep me going since there was always the chance of something coming from them.

And honestly, the Great Vault doesn’t fix it. I’ve had a week where, out of a full clear Nathria and 2 slots of mythic+, four out of five of my options were rings. And that one was alright because if it didn’t drop a trinket I could have used that. But I’ve had weeks where every possible upgrade was a slot that was already covered, while other slots wound up being stuck. I’d say even the catch-up mechanism of covenant gear doesn’t work due to both the anima cost of upgrading (which is FAR above 35 anima) and the extra put on your repair costs since the gear is worth 250 gold to vendors. Not exactly enticing.

And remember, I said group content was the GOOD part of the expansion.

Solo Content: Boring, Aggravating

It’s all downhill from here.

The New, Painful World Quests

When World Quests were introduced in Legion, they were usually pretty simple. Either quests you did to level, rares that you might have missed, and occasional puzzles from the Kirin Tor. BFA seemed to follow that in general, with the Tortollan replacing the Kirin Tor and occasional more involved battlefront world quests. But these were generally so plentiful that more often than not, if you wanted emissary but didn’t like an activity it was easy enough to find the simple ones.

Shadowlands World Quests attempt to be all the more involved type, and of small enough number that you’re going to hate some of them by the end of it. Some are fun, I will admit. Playing with Draka’s dog, the Maldraxxus running of the olympic torch, Theotar’s parasol, (most of) the tea time ones, and even one where you fly through the air to collect pupas. But then you have others.

And I’d say my biggest headaches have a common covenant: the Kyrian. Poorly programmed flappy bird. Dumb ‘training’ simon says. One that should be simple, just kill mobs… Except you have a stationary zone you have to pull them to and god help you if someone else is killing in the zone, doesn’t notice you, and now you have to wait out the cooldown to drop another one.

The gear rewards suck, the anima amount varies how much it’s worth it, and every other reward straight up aren’t worth it.

Also a lot of treasures are obnoxious. Like I can’t even think of how to elaborate on it it’s just so many are not worth the effort to find out how to open them because so many rewards are, you guessed it! 35 Anima.

Stagnant Sanctums

When I first saw sanctums I thought I’d have the patience to keep a few going. Having leveled 2 alts I can confirm I haven’t had the energy to even attempt to start their anima/soul grind.

First, we have the Mmission board. Because I chose the Necrolords first I didn’t realize just how bad some people’s were. Then I started night fae I soon fond out how blessed I’d been. Maldraxxus’ unit types are frontline and backline splash damage, and your first follower is entire board splash damage. I forgot what the follower for night fae did, but the night fae units are a healer and a dot applying unit.

Guess how man missions are massive amounts of enemies and how many are single objective focuses.

But then we have the anima conductor, and at first I thought it was a neat idea. Get rewards for putting anima back into the Shadowlands, and when I saw the second tier daily quests had a chance to give 500 anima . That seemed amazing and considering some of the quests were obnoxiously long and boring I assumed it was encouragement if you didn’t have the patience for other 35 anima rewards.

Then they hotfixed it the day after I found out it was only Necrolords. Now the quests are just boring and obnoxious world quests with the extra step of picking them up.

So now not only did the anima grind lose something to make it less obnoxious, and the time gating of souls for sanctum features, in addition to a lot of features just being underwhelming. I decided to waste resources on my travel network’s second level for a slow moving necropolis around my zone. There has NEVER been a point where the necropolis was a faster way to get to my destination over just mounting up and running. But hey, at least the shitty necropolis did what it promised and didn’t have people upgrade to find out their transport network didn’t do what it promised.

And hell, I’m liking making abominations, but the fact that so many options to customize them are behind a really obnoxious RNG (no Chordy, it’s not around here) it gets all the more aggravating to have fun with it. And I like stuff like Roseboil asking me if I have a boo-boo and telling me I’m tough.

Though with all these problems I have with anima, I guess at least it not being tied to progression like artifact power and azerite. Yet so many things fun things tied behind it with such slow, time-gated progression is aggravating. So clearly the solution would be infinitely grindable things, right?

Well…

Why are the Avowed a Thing?

I assume the Avowed were originally what the Venthyr had instead of the Ember Court and then realized it was terrible but then left it in to annoy alchemists and Venthyr that want certain tints.

I am no Venthyr. But I am an alchemist.

Least the Shadestones make me plenty of money.

I do not know why this faction still exists other than annoyance, or why they’re infinitely grindable like they are. In the sense that WHY DOES IT TAKE SO LONG?

Covenant Woes

I do like the Necrolords. Didn’t even choose them because they were (somewhat) meta for MW monk. I did it because I liked the aesthetic and the concept of my covenant ability being just tossing dust at someone is hilarious to me.

But I only like the wings part of my mog. I do not like the look of the leather set on my troll. And every other mog looks like actual armor. I mean I get it: cloth is house of rituals, mail is intended to be house of eyes (since Draka wears it), and plate is house of the chosen. So house of constructs is what is left for leather. I still don’t like it.

And the issue I have with a ‘right covenant’ is that that has changed already for some classes. Remember how I said Necrolord was somewhat meta above? Well that’s because the meta changed, they found out Kyrian is generally best overall. Or people who played warrior, heard their DPS was universally Venthyr, and found out later people did the math and found out that the night fae was best to do Mythic+. Not the worst thing since changing is easy. But I get the feeling more and more frustration is going to come as the expansion goes on.

Speaking of things that will definitely get worse.

The Maw Fucking Sucks

“Well it’s intended to be a hostile land that you want to get in quickly and out of quickly!”

Yeah. Still sucks. Transport options suck. The place tries to act like it’s bigger than it is by removing mounting except for a select few mounts. The dailies do not give enough ve’nari reputation to be worth it, in addition to the fact that, outside of the one use purchases ve’nari’s items are rarely worth it (wow a skeleton key for the incredibly simple puzzle chests that’s single use!). I feel bad for people who can’t do twisting corridors and have to rely on the shadehound hunt to make time in there feel less hellish.

Apparently Worgen can use running wild to circumvent it and you know what? Good for them. I hope that never gets/got patched.

Well Torghast is fun right?

Torghast is Terrible

The entire thing’s a timesink. Not enough fun builds to actually make it feel worth it past what you do to get your legendary. One of the deathroach pets seems to sell for a bit so I guess that’s a positive. It really feels like they did exactly what they did with World Quests: took something other mmos generally use for levelling, in this case the deep dungeon, and assumed people wanted to do it at max level. And I’d say it’s a good way to know they’re out of touch with their playerbase considering they had to nerf the last layers when they went live.

I think I was able to get through Twisting Corridors solely because I was a monk and our anima powers are good, but without a large amount of stamina or the right powers early on it goes to shit quick. But I got my mount so never have to see it again.

Also reminder that when Twisting Corridors went live there were still placeholder powers.

Future Worries

While mostly Torghast related figured I’d make this its own section.

What’s going to happen when new content comes out and legendaries have to be higher ilevel? Will they simply up the soul ash cost or put in another aggravating currency. What about legendary memories? Will more be added or will they have to be upgraded? Will we be wearing multiple? And how will anima be handled as things go on.

Really the big issue I have with all of this is from what I can gather, the mindless grind of wow continues to get more and more aggravating as expansions go on, with rarely a reprieve in sight.

Nitpicks

This is shit even I understand is probably not a big deal or might be personal preference.

LET MY TROLL WEAR SHOES THE VENTHYR MAIL AND NECROLORD PLATE DOES IT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I’M PRETTY SURE SOME SHOES AT LEAST HAVE OPTIONS FOR HOOVED CHARACTERS.

Soulbinds vary in importance in covenant stories. Using Necrolord as an example, by the time you start the campaign Marileth is already done with his arc, Heirmir only exists to say they’re the Primus’ apprentice in smithing, and Emeni only shows up if you choose necrolord and is the only one with any prominence in the story. Necrolord is mostly the Azeroth trio each dealing with things, and it does have neat moments (always enjoyed the story of the Ashbringer, and Alexandros going “this is a large locked chest” crushing the lock, and then saying “it is now a large chest” was good) but I’d assume soulbinds would have more to do.

To compare, the Kyrian campaign seems to spend the most time with soulbinds, with Venthyr being second place, and Night Fae I think being a third. Further, odd things like a little under 2/3 of the Necrolord campaign being shared with other covenants, while Night Fae doesn’t interact with any in theirs. This is despite the fact that the Kyrian campaign interacts with all other factions, the Necrolord part being the same for that faction; and the Venthyr campaign interacts with Kyrian and Necrolords, once more the Necrolord version is shared. I guess I’d say I’d prefer they either commit to separate stories or overlapping uinversally, but maybe that’ll come with the next part.

Conclusion

Running out of steam for this random smattering of thoughts so conclusion.

Shadowlands I think is like most expansions. Launch is fun because everything is new, then the grind wears everyone down.

Make more loot drop for more difficulties or fix the great vault.

Really that’s all I got here’s a picture of my monk.

[dwkinternational]

DWK Podcast - recap

Mika Braun is the costume designer since the very beginning. She created the Look of the wild soccer bunch in the first, second, third and fifth movies. Her costumes influenced and even changed the book covers and the Illustrations of Jan Birck. When it came to the creation of your own world, she was a great teacher for Joachim Masannek.

She basically created the whole look of the wild soccer bunch, according to Masannek

He distinctively remembers their trial and error while trying to get a hairstyle for Leons character, because they wanted him to look like the real Leon and he and Jimi didn’t really look alike (They even tried to colour his hair blonde)

Joachim Masannek and Mika Braun first met at Samfilm

She originally was there for a meeting to talk about a different Movie that was going to be produced, but the people in charge didn’t think she was capable enough, she hadn’t brought her portfolio with her because it was all very rushed

When she met with Joachim however they instantly clicked, they got along great and knew what they wanted to make was going to be Mad Max for Kids. She did bring her portfolio with her this time but he didn’t even want to take a look inside

Because she had worked on a lot of projects regarding TV and advertisements he had a lot of respect for her previous work and felt like he couldn’t judge it as he had never made a movie before, only short films

To him it only mattered that they got along and that he had the feeling he could trust her since they were making something new that may have been made before, but not in that way

She also felt that they were eye to eye as she had also never done a movie for cinemas before. The whole process was not about her experiences and what she was capable of or not capable of, but about him developing this Idea and how they were adapting that together. To her that was so special about these movies, that you could see that everyone put their heart and soul into it

At least you saw it with the german crew. When they were shooting in Prag, they had a few problems. One of the Camera assitants just forgot that the camera was running and when Masannek reviewed the footage (back then it was on VHS) the take was 20 Minutes long.

Another example is one Woman in the costume department who always called people “Darling”:

They were searching for the kids helmets one time and the Woman kept saying the helmets are props and the backpacks are part of the costume, darling until Masannek got so fed up that he took the helmets once they were found and said “Look, darling. I’ll take your darn helmets now and put them into the darn backpacks and then its your problem where they are”

Braun says that that happens quite often during shooting in foreign countrys, because they have differently distributed teams and work with different systems

It just happened to Mika that she was baffled that the crew she was working in had no Parasols for the actors even in 40 degree heat or if it was raining, they didn’t care and said that its not their job. Even though in america for example they have a position (personl assistant) just for that. Or you have someone for directing assistance or Script or Continuity. But to her suprises like that are whats so nice about the job

During Masanneks last Movie Luliane Susewind they were shooting in Aachen but also in Belgium and he also had to learn a few things:

the first one was that the Makeup artist didn’t do the hair of the actors, they found out two to three weeks before the shooting started and had to hire an extra Hair stylist

the second things was that part of the crew just take three weeks of vacation unannounced and their replacement doesn’t have a clue about anything and Masannek showed up at the set one day and his costume designer was nowhere to be found and when he asked where she is he got told “Uh...shes on vacation”

Mika was very glad that the second wild soccer bunch movie was shot in Bavaria, not in the Czech Republic, because she was able to bring her team with her.

To the kids the shooting of the second movie was the most fun, but to Masannek it was the most exhausting to the point he thought he never wanted to make a kids movie again

He was like, well, the first movie was so exhausting and complicated and he wouldn’t have to work as hard with the second one.He worried that that movie wouldn’t be as good because he felt like he wasn’t putting enough effort into it and it didn’t seem as complicated

but then Mika Braun invited him to a flea market in Braunau and he thought it would be great to do something else than the movie for a day, he would find something nice to buy and she showed him a lot of nice stuff

that day Masannek found out what making a movie does to someone because he was going through the flea market but couldn’t see anything other than the movie and couldn’t focus on anything

although he did buy something that he found ten years later in his basement when he moved (it was around a 120 Whistles although he does not remember why he bought them)

They mentioned their Vision of Mad Max earlier and Sascha Heimanns asks them how they get from an Idea to the finished product, like the helmets they talked about or the necklaces

Mika answers that there is a whole development process behind everything. It starts with her reading the script and getting an Idea of what something looks like, she discusses that with Joachim who tells her about how they are basically all in black and have these logos, but everyone has their special thing and they search together for what fits best

She will never forget the discussion about Staraja Riba. Originally she thought that the witch was supposed to be big and terrifying like the thunderbolt giants, so that the kids would feel small next to her or no one would be afraid of her

Joachim insisted that she should crawl over the ground like a spider and in the end she thought it was good that they did it his way because it was the scariest thing in the whole movie series to her and that was one instance where they didn’t have the same opinion

The Staraja Riba thing was overall difficult to get righ tin the end

Because Buena Vista didn’t want the director to attend the test screening ( although he was present during the screening of the first movie and that went pretty well) Masannek was offended and they hired a different director who went to cut the scene differently. The producers said that the scene with the witch wasn’t believable or scary anymore and Joachim got to fix it

He thinks the bravest thing they did was the scene with the love letter and the glowing hearts, he originally wasn’t allowed to do that scene because it was a “boys movie” and the audience wouldn’t like it

They did a test screening for an audience that only consisted of boys without approval of the producers and the feedback was good except for the love letter scene which the boys didn’t like

Another thing that was difficult was the paint the actors had on during the scene where the bunch plays against the SV 1906. That originally took too much effort and time to do (because drawing the markings for everyone took 4 hours and taking it off took 4 hours also Sarah was allergic to the paint) but Joachim just decided they were going to do it anyways

Mika said that she appreciated the fantastical aspect of the movies, to try something that hasn’t been done before and that that was probably what the kids found so fascinating and fun

To her it was very special to work on it even though it was relatively low-budget

because of that for example they spent whole nights painting Logos on T-Shirts

Joachim said that she played a huge role in the evolution of the Logo itself, the first thing she put the minimalistic Logo on was the black shirt Maxi wears at the beginning of the third Movie

It was her idea to only put the eye and the teeth on there and that has been adapted for Merchandise ever since

Sascha asks why Mika hasn’t worked on the fourth and sixth movie

When they were shooting the fourth movie in Mai 2006 she was in Kenia to adopt her daughter and because she spent 7 Months there she wasn’t able to work on the movie

But she said Susann Bieling did a great job with that movie

She shared the 5th one with Andrea Spanier because her daughter was still so small that she felt like she wouldn’t be able to do it alone

These are some of her costume designs for the 5th movie, for Leon and Klette

They worked so well together that Mika sais she was spoiled afterwards and when she went on to another production it didn’t go as smoothly anymore

That production was Gangs, for which they also asked Joachim Masannek if he wanted to work on it, but he was in contract with Constantin Film for Wildernacht

For the sixth movie Mika was also unavailable due to another production she had already agreed to

Question:

Sibille 24 years old: She grew up with the wild soccer bunch and because they talked about the new series in the last podcast episode, she wanted to say that she thinks the idea is great. The bunch has been inspiring to her back then and thinks that the bunch is a great role-model with their creativity and bravery. She would be thrilled about a new series.

Answer:

The Procuders originally wanted to retell a story in the vein of the first and second movies but Joachim said he is sick of writing that fight against fat Michi over and over so they decided on something new

The story will take place in Berlin

The Kids will come from different social backgrounds

One boy will be the son of a Maori Woman, who came to germany when she was 17 years old and pregnant

His dad was a german tourist but he dumped his Mom

She currently lives in Marzahn and has her own Tattoostudio

The boy wants to become the best Goalkeeper in the World

hes very stubborn but a great guy overall

Then there is a girl whose Mother is a turkish Policewoman and she lives in an allotment garden

they hear about this hidden world of the wild bunch in which Kids can fight to do what what they believe in

The series will be called “Forever wild”

Its still rooted in what has already been established

there will be some characters from the movies but they will appear in a different way than how we know them

He said that the girl that asked the question is over 20 and that generation is exactly who they want to do the series for

Mika chimes in to say that back then the movies created a boom and more girls started to play soccer

She said its never wrong to challenge society and gender stereotypes

Joachim says that to him its very fascinating that times are getting more conservative and we are not living in a world anymore where little boys have to be raised by a woman

He said that the perspective of society is different right now with metoo for example and that its an exciting challenge to define what a role model is

To question what is a boy, what is a girl, what is a man or woman?

One family in the series he is planning consists of a native american father and a mother who is a descendant of the Aborigines

They live in Spandau and have an indian daughter and a son who is african

The parents take turns on who is leading the company and who is taking care of the kids, to them every job is equal and everyone has to take on some responsibility

Masannek says he notices even with his little Kids (his 9 years old daughter and his 2 years old son) that they already want to know what exactly a woman is or a man is

He wants his kids to develop freely and once they know what the stereotypes are they can decide to not support these stereotypes anymore

Mika Braun agrees that these topics are very important right now and that it is a responsibility of all creatives and all the tolerant folks to take on these kinds of topics so that the conservative ideals don’t take root

And thats it for Episode 29!

[royaltealovingkookiness]

@zutaraweek Prompt: Found.

Summary: Katara is snooping around, looking for trinkets that help her solve the Zuko-Puzzle. Ember Island days, canon compliant. Read on AO3 or below.

“What do you think you’ll find up there?” Suki asks as Katara heads again to the dusty attic, laced with cobwebs. 

It is a good question. Katara mutters something about pots and pans, ignoring Suki’s amused smile. Of course, the kitchen in the summer house is the best-equipped Katara has ever seen in her life, and yes, she’s been cooking for the team with nothing more than a clay rice-pot for the last couple of months. Also, it’s not her first visit to the attic. Or the second. Or the third.

The royal vacation home is full of trinkets. Some of them really useful, like the colourful paper lanterns that now adorn the patio or the parasols that come handy on the beach.  

But it’s the other things that draw Katara back; objects that tell a story about Zuko. And now that they’ve become friends, Katara is eager to learn more.  

-0-

The cedarwood-chest is full of Zuko-memorabilia, no doubt carefully collected by his mother. There are strands of silky hair tied together with ribbons, baby-teeth sewn into an ornate pocket, tiny handprints in clay.

Katara opens something that looks like a school-report:

Could do better in his lessons if he were less prone to daydreaming.

Shows great talent in all fields of athletics. 

Great aptitude for music. Can read notes proficiently and sing clearly. His interest should be nurtured further…

Katara smiles as she imagines him as a schoolboy. She pictures a young boy with dreamy eyes. 

A handful of tiny red papers, rolled into cylinder shapes grab her attention. She unrolls one randomly. It’s a prayer, written in the clumsy scribbles of a child. 

Agni, please give me bigger sparks. I think Father might like me more if you did. 

Katara feels like she’s intruding on something entirely too private, so she rolls back up the tiny scroll and puts it back in the box. 

Maybe she could just ask Zuko, but he rarely volunteers any private information. He trains Aang, does his share of the chores, hangs out with the group mostly quietly, sometimes making the effort to butcher one of his uncle’s jokes. Katara wonders if it’s painful for him to be back in this place, conspiring to bring his own father down. For the first time she admits to herself that he’s not in an enviable position.

-0-

The objects serve as conversation-starters. The first thing she brings to him is the drawing of a dragon; made in red and gold ink with bold strokes. The proportions are all wrong, but the eyes of the dragon are strangely expressive. Pain and compassion.

“Did you draw this?” she asks curiously.

A small, wistful smile forms on Zuko’s lips as he turns the paper around. “Yeah. I was trying to explain to Azula what the dragons in my dream looked like.”

“You are quite talented.”

He playfully puts his fingers on his lips. “Don’t tell Sokka, he’ll challenge me to a painting kai.”

Katara promises to keep it as their secret. It feels nice to have a secret to share.

-0-

“Did you make these?” She scatters colourful paper-animals on the steps during the training break. He picks up a badger-frog and makes it skip. 

“Some of it. Mum taught Azula and me. You see? Those perfect ones are hers.” There is barely disguised bitterness in his voice. His sister’s perfection seems to be a permanent shadow he still struggles with. “I probably made all the crooked ones.”

Katara picks up a fire-hawk from the crooked pile. “Can you teach me this one?”

“Sure, it’s not that hard,” he nods. 

He folds the paper in deep concentration, his tongue sticking out from the effort. It makes him look like a kid. The folds are perfectly aligned. Katara copies his movements carefully. 

The others all gravitate towards them, first watching, then joining in. Even Toph insists on having a go, letting Zuko guide her hands through the motions to make a lotus. 

Sokka -  who else - suggests a frog-jumping competition, adding extra folds to upgrade his design. Instead of jumping, his frog spins around madly, which inspires new and even more extravagant designs. Soon, the steps are covered with mythical creatures, monsters and strange animal hybrids. Most of them crooked. Nobody really cares. Laughter echoes among the old pillars; Zuko’s chuckles melding into the group’s merriment.

-0-

“I really like this one.” She picks up one of the kites. It’s blue like the sea, decorated with a sea-lion. 

His eyes turn sad. “It was Lu Ten’s.”

Katara has no idea who he’s talking about, but the heaviness of his voice implies a tragic story. She waits patiently. Zuko pulls his fingers along the reed crossbars. “My cousin, Uncle’s son. He died in the war.”

“I’m sorry. Were you close?”

“He was older than me and he knew the best games. He taught me to sneak around, to wrestle, to fly kites,” Zuko smiles, lost in good memories. “I wish he was still alive, things would be different…” ha adds quietly. 

Before Katara has a chance to ask what he means, Aang interrupts with an enthusiastic yell. “These are some great kites. I haven’t flown one in a century!” 

Inevitably, Sokka appears to examine them. Ten minutes later, the entire group is down by the beach flying kites. Zuko is running close to Aang to get the airbending boost. He’s holding the string of Lu Ten’s kite, the blue silk is flying impossibly high.

-0-

Katara drags out a heavy box full of instruments. The tsungi horn is on top.

“Can you play this thing?” she asks, thinking of the old school report.

“A little,” Zuko replies shortly, keeping his eye on Aang’s movements as he drills the new set.

Aang perks up immediately and stops practicing. “I love music.”

“You have firebending practice to do,” Zuko replies strictly. He’s relentless with Aang.

“Come on, Zuko. Practice, practice, practice. I never get to have any fun anymore,” Aang pouts.

Zuko looks at Katara. Positive reinforcement, her lips form the words silently. It’s an argument they have had quite a few times.

“I’ll tell you what. If you can do this set perfectly by the end of the day, we’ll do music night,” Zuko offers.

Aang restarts his practice more enthusiastically, his concentration and form are perfect. As the sun starts to disappear on the horizon, Zuko declares the set mastered. 

He puts the horn to his lips and starts playing, eyes closed. The courtyard grows quiet. The music sounds both strange and beautiful to Katara’s ears. Clearly, he knows more than a little.

-0-

One early morning she drags a surf-board to the beach, where Zuko sits in quiet meditation waiting for the sunrise. The others are still sleeping in the house. 

“Do you know how to use it?”

“Don’t tell me you want me to teach you,” Zuko looks at her in confusion. 

“Actually, I had something else in mind.” Katara bends her own surfboard and spins around on top of the wave. “Come on, the water is delicious.”

Zuko watches her with a skeptical expression, but he picks up the surfboard and starts to paddle in deeper. Katara gives him a big boost with a wave of her arm. “That’s really neat,” laughs Zuko. 

Balancing himself on the board, he starts moving with the waves. He’s not half-bad for a firebender. Every once in a while, Katara sends him on a spin. On the first two tries, he ends up under the water, but by the third attempt he figures out the rhythm of her bending and moves with it. They chase the waves in the rising sun, their laughter carried by the water. 

Katara collapses in the warm sand, the dancing waves coursing inside her veins, making her feel alive. Zuko soaks in the rising sun, covering his feet in sand. 

“This was fun,” Katara giggles. 

“Last time I was out there, Azula set my surfboard on fire because I won some stupid game we were playing,” he notes. He doesn’t make it sound like anything out of the ordinary, but rather a regular occurrence. Just a normal day in the family. Katara’s stomach squeezes painfully at the thought of growing up like that, constantly watching your back, wondering if your family really hates you. 

He shakes his head, as if to get rid of the bad memories and smiles at her. “But surfing with a water-bender is certainly an experience I never knew I needed.” There is no sarcasm in his voice. “It’s great to have you guys here. It makes this place come alive again.”

Katara nods. “We all love it here, you know. Sokka swears it’s the best place in the entire world.”

“Maybe, after...after this is all over, we could come here for a real vacation.” His voice is a bit shy and hesitant, as if he feared they would turn him down. As if he still didn’t believe that they are friends now.

Katara for one can’t think of anything better than winning the war and taking a long holiday on Ember Island. “That would be great, Zuko.” 

She puts her hand on top of his. He watches it intently, like a painter trying to commit to memory every detail. After a long beat of silence he pulls away his hand.

“I’d better wake up Aang,” he says and heads back towards the house. 

Katara leans back against the old, battered surf-board, enjoying the last quiet minutes of the morning. 

She thinks that after breakfast, she’ll go back to the attic. These objects are part of the puzzle, through them she’s found the real Zuko. But maybe there are more layers to be found. And maybe, through all this, he’s found something too.

[lichlover]

taakitz getting stuck in a rainstorm on a date?

The pros of a parasol: An excellent accessory, fits seamlessly with his fantasy Scarlett O’Hara vibe, easily transmutable to match his color scheme of the day. He’d add “does not contain the arcane essence of his long-lost sister” to the list, but that’s sort of a given.

The cons of a parasol: Provides absolutely no protection whatsoever when the heavens open up and drop an ocean’s worth of rain on them.

To be fair, the forecast had predicted a perfect day. Sunny, with the promise of autumn in a cool breeze that buffeted the coastline. It was the kind of weather that encouraged long skirts and gauzy sleeves and wide-brimmed hats, and if you were feeling particularly flirty, a nice lacy parasol to complete the look. The look is always key, of course, but especially on the afternoons Taako can get Kravitz all to himself. It’s an auspicious thing when their schedules align, so Taako’s going to do a little more than go the extra mile. Or the full nine yards. Or whatever distance he needs to cross in five-inch wedges to fluster the hell out of his husband.

So that’s why he’d met Kravitz on the patio of a seaside café, decked out in his finest beach chic and a pair of rose-colored glasses (because he’d just known Kravitz’s cultured, dorky ass would appreciate the reference). They’d had some halfway decent crepes and lemon tea as the odd cloud flitted overhead, and Kravitz caught Taako up on the astral plane’s latest top-notch gossip. It morphed into a brief but heated discussion over whether or not fishnets should be regulation wear for reapers—Taako’s position was entirely self-indulgent, of course, but no less valid—which was promptly forgotten when the talk of dress code turned into questions about his latest visit to the Amazing School of Magic. “Oh, y’know,” was all Taako had said. “Still amazing. Gave some kiddos a kickass lecture on the virtues of arcane cosmetics. Not that I’d know. Wink.”

Their date was going flawlessly.

And then they’d noticed the clouds.

More specifically, that the clouds were not so innocent anymore. They’d grown heavy and dark over their last hour of conversation, and now Taako could make out the occasional flash of lightning across the horizon. He’d waved his gold card at the waiter, who brought them their check in a hurry, and they were out of there faster than he could namedrop his brand. The once-bustling boardwalk was almost completely cleared.

“Well,” Taako had said, nudging Kravitz with a good-natured smirk. “Can’t rag on us for PDA if there’s no public around, eh?”

Right as he’d said that—like a well-timed joke—a fat, round raindrop had landed on Taako’s parasol.

Then another.

And another.

And that’s how they find themselves huddled under the awning of a kitschy little souvenir shop, watching rain lash the pavement just inches from their feet. Taako’s blouse is sticking to his shoulders, and despite his best efforts, he can’t swallow a shiver. He shifts his parasol to a different arm and tucks further into Kravitz.

“Gotta say,” he mumbles into Kravitz’s shirt, “this is not how I was hoping the day would go. I mean, fuck’s sake, I got you to wear grey.”

True to his word, Kravitz is sporting a light grey button-up and a vest that ripples with iridescence, shifting from a deep indigo to an impossibly dark blue. He huffs a laugh and brings his arm up to rub circles into Taako’s shoulder, and, well, it’s a real trip when your undead beau is warmer than the utterly abysmal weather around you. “You know, I still don’t know how you talked me into that.”

“Easy,” says Taako, and shoots him a sly grin from underneath the brim of his sunhat. “I’m charming as all get. Just look at me.”

Kravitz looks at him, raises an eyebrow, then staggers dramatically back against the exposed brick of the shop. “Oh, spare me. I’ve been hopelessly charmed. I don’t know if I’ll ever recover.”

A gust of wind sends another chill cascading over Taako and leaves his hat dangling off his shoulders, and his ears pull flat against his head as he lunges for Kravitz’s arm. “Fuck off and get back here. You’re the only source of heat I’ve got.”

His husband pauses. This time, both of his eyebrows quirk upward and threaten to graze his hairline. “It’s that cold?”

“Wh—you can’t tell?”

“I mean… no. Not at all.” He frowns and steps forward to put a hand out towards the rain. “I guess it feels a little chilly, but…”

“It’s fuckin’ freezing, Krav.” Taako gives up on Kravitz’s arm and wraps around himself in a desperate attempt to kickstart a little friction. Between his icy hands and sheer sleeves, it’s a brave but futile thing. “Oh my God, get over here or I’m gonna kick your ass for real.”

Kravitz holds up his hands in surrender and retreats fully under the safety of the awning. He wraps Taako in a loose embrace, and Taako’s best ploy at mock frustration melts away with the rain as he relaxes into Kravitz’s arms. It’s like trying to leech warmth out of a half-drowned, charmingly dapper statue, but he’ll make do with what he has. The closeness isn’t so bad, either.

“The one day we’ve got,” he mumbles.

A sigh ruffles the top of Taako’s head. “It’s been hard, lately, hasn’t it?”

“Considering the universe is trying to get us to take a fuckin’ raincheck, yeah, I’d say it is.”

“And yet,” Kravitz reminds him, “we’re making it work.”

“If that’s what you wanna call this, fella, have at it. I mean, if we’re gonna drown, at least we’ll drown together, right? Very Fantasy Titanic of you.”

For awhile there’s nothing but rain dripping off the awning and the roar of waves beating against the shoreline, surging up to meet the storm. Taako’s parasol dangles off his arm as he makes himself small against Kravitz, shrinking inward to conserve every scrap of heat he can. Kravitz’s hands drift upward and shape themselves around his, coaxing feeling back into his fingers.

He’s humming, Taako realizes. It’s nearly soft enough to lose itself in the rain, but he keeps it up—a jaunty, consistent melody.

And then he recognizes Kravitz’s gentle falsetto, partially mumbled into his hair.

“… in the rain,” he’s lilting. “Just… singin’ in the rain.”

Taako snorts. “You absolute dork. Is that what I think it is?”

Kravitz just hums again and leans them into a lazy, languid sway as he goes on. “What a glorious feeling… I’m happy again.”

It’s not just a show—hell, it’s an entire production, the way Taako rolls his eyes, but he sways with Kravitz anyway. They shuffle in the limited space of the overhang, framed by the sheet of rain coming down around them and the souvenir shop’s tacky storefront, and across the boardwalk the ocean lunges and dances along the coast.

[wellesleyunderground]

Little Women reviewed by Shloka Ananthanarayanan ‘08 (@shlokes)

This review originally appeared on Shloka’s blog, Pop Culture Scribe.

A year ago, I learned that Greta Gerwig had written and directed an adaptation of Little Women and it would be released on Christmas Day 2019. Since that announcement, this movie is what I have been most looking forward to all year. Little Women is one of my most cherished novels. The 1994 film (also a Christmas Day release) is a highlight of my childhood and I have watched it countless times. I have been in love with the character of Jo March my entire life, and I thought no one would supplant Winona Ryder as Jo in my imagination. But it has now happened, because Saoirse Ronan (and really, Greta Gerwig, who is the true Jo of this movie) has stolen my heart. The following review lists out everything I so deeply loved about this film and as such is brimming with spoilers. Please watch this movie first and read this review later. You deserve to treat yourself to this cinematic feast. However, if you do want a teaser, I highly recommend this Vanity Fair video where Gerwig and some of the cast dissect a scene in the movie. It will immediately tell you everything you need to know about how much love and artistry went into making this film.

1. The casting. Every character in this film has been impeccably cast: shout out to casting directors Kathy Driscoll and Francine Maisler. Yes, Saoirse Ronan as Jo is perfect, with her angular face and wild carefree attitude that is so at odds with the women of her day. But Emma Watson is also the perfect Meg, the beauty of the family who is gentle but strong, tempted by riches but wise enough to know that love is more important. Eliza Scanlen is a wondrous Beth, demonstrating her crippling shyness but also the efforts she takes to acknowledge others' kindnesses and give of herself in myriad ways until she no longer can. And Florence Pugh is a delight as Amy, the most irritating March sister. While it's definitely a hard ask to play 12-year old Amy in the childhood scenes, Pugh does a creditable job, highlighting what a brat Amy can be, but helping us to understand how she fits into this family and how her mind had been molded to think that her only escape from her existence will be to marry well. Then of course there's Laura Dern as the indomitable Marmee, the woman who is tirelessly raising these little women while her husband is off to war and does it with a cheerful composure that masks her own frustration and fatigue. And there's Meryl Streep as the cantankerous Aunt March, a horribly plain-speaking woman who wants the March sisters to do well but has very little hope that they will. We also get the wonderful Jayne Houdyshell as the hardworking Hannah, the Marches' maid who ensures they are fed and clothed and keeps things moving while the girls are off on their adventures. Moving from the women, we have Timothee Chalamet as Laurie, who is charming and always a treat opposite Saoirse Ronan: that casting helps as the two are such great friends in real life and it shows on screen. But he suffers from the opposite problem as Florence Pugh: while he's lovely as young Laurie, the older, more careworn adult is a harder thing to pull off and I'm not sure that he succeeds. For now, Christian Bale from the 1994 film will still be my Laurie. Louis Garrell as Professor Bhaer is also an interesting choice, because he's French, not German, which is a departure from the novel. But given how Gerwig treats that particular plot point (more on that later), it makes sense she wouldn't be too fussed about his nationality. We also have Chris Cooper as Laurie's grandfather, and this movie really amps up what a tender-hearted friend and surrogate father figure he becomes to the March women. Which brings us to the only casting decision that I found bizarre: Bob Odenkirk as Mr. March. To me, Odenkirk will always be Saul Goodman or some sort of comic relief, and I can't take him seriously as the patriarch of the March household. But he is barely in the film, so it doesn't really matter. 

2. The script. This movie captures everything I love about the novel. Every vignette, every line of dialogue, every plot point. They're all in there. But rather than following the straight timeline as the girls grow into women, Gerwig starts with the adult Jo marching into a New York editor's office to sell a sensational story, and then flashes back and forth between childhood and adulthood. This lends novelty to the piece since all the prior film adaptations have never messed with the novel's structure. But it also helps to develop these characters and remind us of what events in their childhood led to the decisions they made as adults. Meg's marriage to John Brooke is so much more compelling when immediately contrasted with her girlish fantasies of high society. Amy's desire for a rich husband is so much more nuanced when you see her as a young girl being taught by Aunt March that she is her family's only hope to rescue them from poverty. And most devastatingly of all, we contrast the first time Beth falls ill from scarlet fever and recovers to the second time when she dies, and it broke my heart. Beth's death is always sad, but told in this fashion, it is utterly devastating. Of note, the book and movies always seemed to focus on Jo's sadness when her favorite sister dies, but in this movie, it was Marmee's reaction that destroyed me. Massive kudos to Gerwig and editor Nick Houy for successfully executing all these time jumps and ensuring the story remains intact. As detailed in the Vanity Fair video, credit is also due to cinematographer Yorick Le Saux, as the childhood scenes are suffused with a "golden glow," which also helps to delineate timelines.

3. The feminism. As faithful as the script is to the novel, Gerwig throws in some curveballs and amps up the feminist manifesto. This is all in keeping with author Louisa May Alcott, a woman who never married and said she preferred to be "a free spinster and paddle her own canoe." Alcott was always my role model and I loved that quote, so nothing delighted me more than when Jo actually says it in this movie when she's trying to convince Meg not to get married. What is so important, however, is that this film doesn't sideline the ambitions of any of the other women and say that Jo is the only one who's living a proper woman's life. When Jo is being petulant and saying Meg shouldn't feel obligated to get married, Meg gently explains to her that, "Just because my dreams are different from yours, it doesn't mean they're unimportant." There are plenty of scenes in the movie where Amy grapples with how marriage is an "economic proposition" and Jo is railing against the unfairness of being a woman and we are reminded repeatedly of how few options these women had to lead independent lives. But the moral of the story is never that everyone should be like Jo and forge ahead with a brilliant literary career and no husband. Instead, the feminist moral is that all women should have the freedom to pursue their own dreams. They should be allowed to dream, and accomplish those dreams, without judgment from society or their own sister. Ultimately, all four sisters have very different fates, but there is never any doubt that they followed their hearts' desire, and that is what makes Little Women such a feminist masterpiece. Of course, the one quibble is Jo's marriage to Professor Bhaer, a twist that Alcott was forced to include to make the novel more commercially viable. I won't spoil what Gerwig does with that ending in this movie, but let's just say that she lends her true auteur's stamp to that particular plot point. Some diehard fans of the book won't like it, but Louisa May Alcott would be proud.

4. The costumes. The Vanity Fair video gave me a primer before the movie but I would have been captivated by these costumes even if I had no inkling of the effort that costume designer, Jacqueline Durran, put into them. Jo is always clad in something a little masculine and comfortable, while the other women are always a little more constrained. In one scene, Jo is walking arm-in-arm with Amy and Meg, and it is so bracing to see her uncorseted with no hoops in her skirt, unencumbered by all that burdensome femininity, embodying the tomboy attitude that made her such a heroine to me as a child. I kept noticing the color palette, with Jo wearing pops of red, Meg usually in something green, Beth in pinks and browns, and Amy in that gorgeous light blue that captured all of her desire to be refined and elegant. Early on in the movie, there is a scene in a Parisian park that genuinely looks like something out of a Monet painting and it quite took my breath away. While the focus is on Amy, Laurie, and Aunt March, I couldn't help gazing at the extras carrying parasols and furbellowed gowns and marvelling at how picturesque everything looked. It was a short scene, but every element was as perfect as if the entire movie was to be shot in that park, and it showcases the art that went into every frame of this film. 

5. The humanity. All of the above elements of the movie work together beautifully to create the world and develop these magnificent characters. As I watched the film, I was incandescently happy, because even though I knew every story element and who these women were, it somehow felt like I was seeing them through fresh eyes. The constant flashbacks meant that my emotions were always seesawing, which encapsulates the human condition; there are always ups and downs and these women go through events that can seem like utmost tragedy, only to recover the next day and have a laugh about it. Gerwig aptly captures the relationships between the sisters and gives all four women their due. She shows how they fight - not like petulant girls, but like proper sisters who want to tear each others' hair out when they have been wronged (paritcularly in the case of Jo and Amy). All of this leads to you feeling a bit emotionally on edge throughout the movie. And then we get to Jo's monologue after Beth's death, a moment when she is feeling unsettled, unsure of what her next steps are going to be, sad and purposeless. She first delivers a speech that is actually from another Alcott novel, Rose in Bloom, but which feels very apt for Jo March. It's a speech that's in the trailer, so you may have already heard it, but it is a screed about how women are full human beings, capable of so much, but are always just told that love is all they're fit for. On its own, it's a powerful speech. But what breaks your heart is what follows. Because Jo now confides to her mother that if Laurie were to propose to her again, she would probably say yes. And when Marmee asks, "Do you love him?" she can only reply, "I want to be loved." And when Marmee wisely declares, "that's not the same thing," Jo declares, "I'm so lonely." It is the most fundamental declaration of the pain of being human. We are capable of so much, and can do so many things, but sometimes the price of pursuing our dreams is that we are so incredibly lonely. It is something I have declared many times, and to see my heroine, my idol, espouse the same sentiment on screen, made me sob buckets. I had to re-read that chapter of the book, and realized that while that exchange does take place in the novel, Gerwig has wisely re-worked it to give it a more fiery intensity and pathos. As far as I'm concerned, she deserves an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay for that one scene alone.

So that's Little Women. I went into this movie with insurmountable expectations, and somehow those expectations were blown out of the water. It is told with so much warmth, humor, brilliance, and insight, and it is as close to perfect as any movie could be. It is a cinematic masterpiece that I plan on rewatching multiple times and luxuriating in for decades to come.